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esonetwork · 7 months

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Sherrilyn Kenyon loves Dragon Con just as much as you do

New Post has been published on http://esonetwork.com/sherrilyn-kenyon-loves-dragon-con-just-as-much-as-you-do/

Sherrilyn Kenyon loves Dragon Con just as much as you do

by Jen “Lil’ Bit” Schleusner

I had the pleasure of chatting a bit with Sherrilyn Kenyon while at this year’s Dragon Con. A beloved staple guest, she also began attending con as many of us do – as an attendee and then later, a track volunteer.

Q: I was wondering if you could speak to how you feel about how there’s just such this great big love for you here at Dragon Con and the stories that you tell.

A: Oh, because I grew here in Georgia, near the airport, and I attended Dragon Con many, many times. Because I grew up here, I never thought, I mean – I was what, I think I was number one on the New York Times – but they’re like, you should apply to be a guest. I was like, oh yeah, cuz I volunteered and I’ve done all kinds of stuff with Dragon Con until then. So I’m like, yeah, that’d be nice to have that badge. I think it shocked them, even though I grew up down in Riverdale with Titan Comics and I used to go in there all the time as a 14, 15 year old kid. And yeah, it, it’s been amazing to watch it grow and to be on this side of the table was so weird.

Q: You said you used to volunteer – what departments did you volunteer in?

A: Oh with Nancy Knight, I’ve known her since the 80s, so when she started doing writer’s track, when Storm Constantine was doing the horror track – whatever they needed, I’d be happy to do.

Q: I know you obviously enjoy horror and vampires, Greek mythology, all that. What were some of your favorite stories, either from the past or favorite movies, favorite properties?

A: Oh god, There’s so many…

Q: Or do you have any new favorites?

A:Oh, my new, okay. My shameful thing, Cocaine Bear. Oh my God, I’ve not laughed so hard in a movie. I wish my mother was still alive because she would so love Cocaine Bear. Oh, the Pope’s Exorcist was actually pretty good.

Q: I just watched that a few months ago. I was surprised how good it was.

A: Yeah, I was not expecting it. So yeah, that was a really good one too. And I just found a new one that was recommended to me on a panel that I’ve got to see – Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey. Yeah, cuz I made a joke: “I want to write a really slasher Winnie the Pooh book” and they said “oh, it’s been done.” I’m like, what? Okay, well I won’t do it, but I’ll go watch it.

Q: Remember the very first time you were on the New York Best with your book? That feeling that you had then, do you still get that one over your books?

A: Oh yeah. When they first come out it’s like, “oh, my book!” – Yeah, no, that has not, thankfully, ever gone away. But interestingly enough, I was coming from here going home. I lived in Tennessee when I hit the New York Times and I got the call from my editor and we were at a gas station, and so we got out of the car and we were dancing around. Everybody’s looking at us! I still do my ugly spooky dance. And my son’s funny because like “I can’t believe you’re still like, look, it’s a real book!”

Q: What do you think about the technology side of the writing now?

A: I love it and I hate it like everything else. Interestingly enough, I was the first New York published author to do an ebook back in the nineties, and I remember having discussions with my publisher where he’s like“eBooks will never, it’s not going to be a thing”. And I worked IT at the time – I’m telling you buddy, watch out. They’re going to take us over now two years later he’s like, “God, they’re like 80% of sales.” Remember the discussion we had.

Q: I’ve read a lot of books – whether they’re written by men or women where they’ll describe a sex scene. But usually I’m just like, this doesn’t seem realistic or this doesn’t speak to me and I just want to gloss over those scenes. I don’t find it believable. But the way that you write intimate scenes to me, the details – It makes sense for those characters and it’s believable and I don’t want to skip over those scenes.

A: Well, and to me, not all of them have scenes in them. So it really depends on the book. It depends on the couple. And yeah, like you said, it’s not like part A goes into part B. To me, it needs to come from the characters and each one has their own rhythm that they do. It just depends.

Q: It’s honest. They’re honest scenes and it’s really easy to tell when it’s not written, honestly.

A: Well, everything when I’m writing is from the character, so if it doesn’t feel natural for the character, it’s on the cutting room floor. I want y’all to love the characters – I don’t even care if my name’s on the book. Just love the Characters..

Q: Archeron, Julian, Grace, Simi, love them all. So well-written that you can see each character that you’ve written.

A: The funny thing is, I really don’t describe the characters that much. One to me was the biggest compliment I got was, “your characters are ethnically invisible.” I’m like, but I do that because I want whoever’s reading the book

Q: To be identified.

A: Yeah, you put what you want. And if it’s important, like Ash’s eyes, I will explain that. But the rest of it, I may say it once, if you pick it up good and if you don’t – because I would rather the reader be able to insert, what to me, it’s such a great relationship with readers because their imagination, it’s the greatest tool. And so I give ’em just enough to let them fill in a lot of the details.

Q: Well, and there’s so many times where if somebody puts too many details, then you’re just like, okay, yep, there’s okay 20 pages telling me what the forest looks like or what somebody’s outfit looks like and now I’m no longer invested.

A: A good example of that’s Bride or Brida, but everybody calls her Bride, so I do too. She’s a heavy character. I have a lot of characters who are heavy women, like Elena, Sunshine, Grace – is not small, but they don’t harp on it. Someone like me, I’m like, oh my God, I’m so big -I slipped on a copperhead and I shocked it. I know the Copperhead went back and said, “lemme tell you, I was minding my own business. I was comfortable in this house. A big old woman came and stepped on my head.”

Q: With the character Asher, was that based on somebody you knew personally from the past?

A: No, I mean the characters, there are pieces of me in every character because that would be completely disingenuous to say, “no, they’re not.” We write what we know. But no, I really tend not to do that. The only character that really resembles somebody is Bubba, an homage to my older brother who passed. But yeah, normally the characters are just the characters.

Q: Do you like writing about the holiday season?

A: I do and I want to do more. We’ve got “Hebrew For the Holidays” coming out, which is some of my old stories being republished. Ironically, I was talking to my editor today about doing a Nick Christmas book, so we’re hoping to do that. And I want to do a semi Christmas with Simi.

Q: I could see her just bouncing around and harassing Santa.

A: So Much fun , handing out barbecue and oven mitts to everybody.

Q: Going by and lighting Christmas trees on fire.

A: There you go, “I was trying to help it”

Find out more information about Sherrilyn and her career at: https://www.sherrilynkenyon.com

#Author #Chronicles of Nick #Dark Hunters #Dragon Con #dragon con 2023 #ESO #ESO Network #interview #Lil' Bit #Sherrilyn Kenyon #Urban Fantasy #writer

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imagine-darksiders · 3 years

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I hope you feel better soon! When you're feeling better would you be able to write something about jealous Strife? That ask made me curious

“Do you really have to go?”

From your seat at the vanity, you heave an exasperated sigh and set down your lipstick, swivelling around in the chair to face the Horseman who stands sulking at your bedroom door.

“Strife,” you begin patiently, “I'm afraid my answer still hasn't changed since you asked me ten minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I know. It's just -” Averting his gaze, he crosses his arms and grumbles, “I thought we were gonna hang out tonight.”

“And I told you two weeks ago that I wouldn't be around tonight.”

You can't see his expression, hidden as it is behind the silver helm he wears, but you're fairly confident in guessing that there's a pout on his lips.

“And besides,” you add, “We hang out all the time. You practically live here. Hell, you've already turned my spare bedroom into your own personal den.”

'Den' is an understatement. Your spare room is now less of a bedroom more of an Earth museum, filled from floor to ceiling with all of the things that Strife has picked up simply because they took his fancy. For the most part, it's all junk. There's an obsolete gaming console that no longer works, a skateboard, a horse figurine made of glass, no less than three Nerf guns and not a foam dart between them...

Honestly, you're loathe to tell him to get rid of any of it, though you fear you might have to soon if you don't want the mess spilling out into the rest of your house.

Giving your head an exasperated shake, you check the time on your phone and stand up, throwing your bag over a shoulder. “Listen, it's just one evening with an old friend who I haven't seen since before the apocalypse. We can hang out tomorrow, I promise. But now, I really need to dash, he'll be here to pick me up any minute.”

Pausing to stuff your phone into the pocket of your trousers, you head towards the door, hardly noticing that the Horseman is still standing in front of it with his arms folded neatly across a broad, armoured chest. It's only because you glance up right at the last second that you manage to avoid a painful collision. “Um...Strife?” you ask, halting in your tracks, “... Move?”

In response, he simply leans back against your door and begins to inspect the claws on one of his gauntlets. “Nah... I'd rather hear about this friend of yours. You've never mentioned him.” Pausing, he shoots you a sly smirk that you can sense more than see, his golden eyes flashing, “You guys close?”

With a roll of your eyes, you mimic his posture, crossing your arms and giving him a glare that would make Death proud. “Strife, what's gotten into you? I just said I'm going to be late for my friend.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he returns coolly, “Just wanna know that my friend isn't walking into a trap.”

“Oh wow – a trap? Really? Of all the-” You cut yourself off and raise a hand, massaging at your temple. “Okay. Now you're just being ridiculous. It's not a trap.”

“Why don't you let me come with you, just in case?”

“Because!” you cry, throwing your arms up, “It'll be awkward! You remember what I taught you about third-wheeling?”

He remembers it well, in fact. Just like he remembers everything you teach him, committing the moments to memories that he'll carry with him until the day he snuffs it. He only has you for less than a hundred years, after all, and he's determined to remember every last bit of it. The Universe must have thought itself pretty hilarious when it placed you in his life. Of all the creatures in all the realms, the one he ends up caring about most just so happens to be the one with the shortest lifespan. It makes him want to hunt down the Creator and shoot a hole where a heart might be.

Shoving down his contempt for the omnipotent bastard, Strife returns his attention to you and lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I don't mind tagging along. You know, just in case I have to watch your back.”

Your response hits him harder than a crack from Fury's whip. “I don't need you to watch my back every second of every day! Stop being so paranoid.”

The Horseman is too proud and obstinate to ever let the stab of hurt show in his eyes, but he can't ignore its presence in his chest.

He is not being paranoid... He's being a good friend - watching your back, looking out for you, all the things a friend is supposed to do. Not that he's had much experience being friends with a human. Or anyone, for that matter, who isn't a horse or his siblings. It's been a learning curve for both of you, though more-so for him, and so far, the most prominent challenge he's faced is balancing the line between being a friend and being an overprotective nuisance.

It perhaps hasn't helped that, ever since humanity was resurrected, the pair of you have been nigh inseparable. He's grown used to your presence – is dependant upon in, according to Death; a fact that Strife had vehemently tried to deny, at least until he learned that you'd made plans. Plans with someone else. Plans that didn't involve him.

It was only once he'd taken some time to reflect and found that he had indeed been glued to your side for months, that he realised the awful truth.

His older brother was right, after all. The smug ass.

A shudder rolls over the Horseman's body and he blinks, realising that in the few seconds he's been lost in thought, you've managed to reach around him to push open your bedroom door.

“Hey!” he complains as you all but shove past, and he – being the soft-touch that he is – simply allows himself to be moved aside. Grumbling, he follows you across the landing and down your sweeping staircase until you reach the front door and stop beside it.

From outside, the thunderous roar of an approaching, automobile's engine thrums in his ears.

“That's him!” you chirp, and Strife hates the way your face lights up at the mention of whoever 'he' is.

Throwing open your door, you head outside and try to pull it shut behind you, yet find your efforts abruptly halted by the Horseman sticking close to your heels. He ducks through the low doorframe and moves to stand beside you, his viciously keen gaze raking over the vehicle that idles at the end of your driveway.

By his own admission, Strife has always had a weakness for those 'motor bikes' the humans like to ride, with their shiny gaskets and noisy engines. But this one – the one upon whom sits a tall, lanky human – Strife does not care for.

“Anton!” you call out, flying down the driveway, splaying your arms out wide in anticipation of a hug.

'Anton' laughs brightly and kicks down the bike's stand as he leaps from the seat, his own arms only just opening in time to receive you when you crash into him with a whoop of delight.

As soon as those long, stringy arms wrap around your shoulders, the Horseman's hackles raise like a feral beast's and the sudden presence of Anarchy begins to claw at the confines of his ribcage. For a few moments, he wrestles with himself, weighing the pros and cons of letting his most primal form take over for a while, but after envisioning the disapproving frown that's sure to adorn your face should he pull such a stunt, he bitterly shoves a reluctant Anarchy back down and settles upon prowling down the gravel drive after you, glaring hard at the stranger the entire way. Admittedly, he is a little surprised at himself for the animosity. On the whole, he's always maintained a good rapport with other humans. He likes the species, a lot. So to suddenly be filled with such a strong disliking for this particular human strikes him as odd and out of character.

Then, Anton's hands slide down to your lower back and another bout of indignant fury flares up in the Horseman's belly. After what he thinks is, quite frankly, an obscene amount of time, the stranger releases you, holding onto your shoulders and leaning back to get a better look at your face.

“God, it's good to see you, Y/n,” he drawls, eyeing you from head to toe in a way that makes the Horseman's skin crawl, “I can't believe it! You've changed so much!”

Grinning shyly up at him, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and reply, “Hopefully for the better?”

His own smile widens. “You were always at your best, even before the apocalypse. Still, being Humanity's Hero seems to be really suiting you, huh?”

At once, your expression falls and you pull a face, extracting yourself from his grasp. “Oh god, don't call me that. I've told the media till I'm blue in the face - the Horsemen are the ones who deserve to be called heroes. Oh, speaking of whom...” You turn to face the looming presence at your side and gesture up to Strife. “I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine.”

Anton's gaze leaves you long enough to flick over towards the Horseman and you watch as he does a very comical double-take, his eyes bulging for a moment before he manages to compose himself again and lifts his hand in greeting. “Hey! You must be one of those Horseman guys. Death, right?”

Noticing that the Nephilim's hands curl suddenly into tight fists, you interject, “Uh, actually, this is Strife, Tones.”

“Tones?” He really does try to keep the disdain from his voice when he switches his burning, golden glare between you and the other human. “I thought you said his name was Anton?”

How many other friends do you have?

“It's a nickname, Strife,” you reassure him quickly, “This is Anton.”

A nickname... Of course. The Horseman's stomach twists itself into a knot and he can't stop himself from blurting out, “How come you've never given me a nickname?”

The human concept surrounding abbreviated names was a fairly easy one for him to grasp when he first learned of them. They're terms of endearment, meant to signify familiarity and friendship.

He's your friend. He's familiar. Why doesn't he have a nickname too?

"Ugh, I'm sorry. We'll brainstorm nicknames when I get back," you huff, "But the restaurant will give our table away if we don't hurry. So -"

Turning to usher Anton onto the bike, you hardly manage to take one step before a large, metal hand is sliding around your forearm and tugging you gently to a halt. Biting back a groan, you glance over your shoulder, ready to scold him, but one look at his slouched stance and averted gaze stops you in your tracks.

"Uh. Hey, Tones?" you call, never taking your eyes off the Horseman's mask, "Can you give us a sec?"

The human behind you is careful to check that Strife isn't looking when he rolls his eyes and grunts in acknowledgement before he turns and saunters over to his bike, leaning up against it and pulling out his phone.

Once Anton has turned his attention elsewhere, you raise a brow at the Horseman and wait, patient, expectant. After working his jaw for a moment or two, he finally looks at you properly and tightens his grip on your arm, not until it's painful, but enough that you understand what he's trying to convey in the gesture.

He really doesn't want you to go.

"Strife?" you prod.

Reluctantly, he lets out a rough exhale.

Although he's far better at it than his siblings, watching Strife try to openly express emotion isn't unlike watching someone pull their own teeth out with a pair of pliers. The process is slow, and it's best to sit back and listen to him rather than try to encourage him to speak. So, that's what you do, and eventually, your patience is rewarded when after another few seconds of silence, he offers a strained chuckle and says, "This guy isn't my replacement, is he? I know the bike is cool, and all, but..."

"Your replacement?" you laugh, incredulous, "Strife. I don't know how it worked with Nephilim, but for humans, having another friend doesn't cancel out any existing ones."

He knows that. He's not some whelp who never learned how to share. Frustrated with himself, the Horseman huffs and turns his head to the side, glaring hard at nothing in particular.

"Hey..." An old habit kicks in, and before you can stop yourself, you reach up to trace your fingertips along the underside of Strife's helm, tipping it back towards you and smiling at the bewildered look in his yellow eyes. Confident that he's paying proper attention, you pull your hand away again and state, "I could search the whole universe from top to bottom for the next hundred, thousand years, and I'd never find a friend who could replace you, okay? So stop worrying. Your ranking as 'my best friend' is not under threat."

"M'not worrying," he grumbles, but inside, his heart is aglow with the warmth of your words. At the back of his mind, Anarchy rumbles happily. You said best!... He's your best friend? He tries to recall you ever calling him that before. Then he realises that, no, you can't have done. He wouldn't forget a moment like that. Not in a million years. Just like he won't forget how he feels right now after hearing those two words.

Oblivious to the fate you've just sealed for yourself, you clap your hands together, bringing the conversation to what you hope is an easy conclusion. "Good. In that case, will you please let me go with Anton now?"

The Horseman's mood sours almost immediately, but at least he peels his fingers off your arm.

"Hey, kid?" he address Anton, packing his voice with all the menace and threat that he can muster, "If I find out she gets hurt on your watch, I'll introduce you to a couple'a friends of mine..." His hands fall less-than subtly to his holsters, where the silver handles of Mercy and Redemption glint in the sunlight.

Anton's face pales upon seeing the Horseman's legendary pistols.

"Stop that," you scold him, smacking the back of your hand against the armoured chest plate before turning to your other friend and calling, "Come on, Tones, let's go."

Anton all but throws himself onto his bike, kicking the stand back and jamming his keys into the ignition whilst you climb on behind him, albeit far more gracefully. The man tosses you a helmet and you shove it onto your head.

Strife's eyes remain settled upon your hands that wrap snugly around Anton's waist and it takes everything in him not to grab you, haul you off the bike, drag you back to your home and lock you inside.

“I'll be back late tonight,” you call over the roar of the engine as you begin to pull away, “There's food in the fridge if you want to eat! And my Netflix is still logged in! I'll see you later, okay!?”

Strife doesn't respond, not because he can't think of what to say, but because there would be no point. Anton has already peeled away and pushed the bike to a reckless speed. All the Horseman can do is stand there at the end of your driveway, his shoulders drooping dejectedly.

After you're nothing more than a dot on the far horizon, he tears his eyes off you and lets them fall to the tarmac near his boots.

He never notices you looking back.

#darksiders #darksiders genesis #Strife #reader #jealousy

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thalassa-caelum · 3 years

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IN/ENGLISH:

Well, this is going to be the last post I'm going to do on this topic and then "The End". As you know , followers and friends, a couple of months ago I have been receiving hateful (anonymous) comments from useless people who have a lot of free time. Normally, I ignore these kinds of things because they're the sick pastimes of cowardly people, but I have found out that they have been spreading slurs on me, so I'm going to dedicate this post to politely answer them:

1."Your Liar Princess is a copy of xxxx": Wrong. They told me this in 2021 but my AU was published on Feb 17th, 2019. You just have to go to the original post and you will find their publication date. This AU was born out of my fanaticism for the video game. There is no more story behind this. However, it's important to emphasize that my Au's story is VERY DIFFERENT from the story of the video game. The Knight and the Huntress don't exist in the video game, the Wolf's intentions are different (the game's wolf is much friendlier), and the Prince doesn't have magical eyes. These are some examples. Is it a copy of what exactly?

2. ”Your Identity V3 AU is a copy...too”: My AU’s was posted on Oct 17th, 2018, two years before the DRxID Collab announcement. I'm not a time traveler, is impossible for my AU to be a copy, and even if I decided to draw something on this today then that would just be a fanart, not a copy. To this I add, this AU’s was born when the Identity V game wasn't the globally recognized game that is today. I just thought "it would be a cool mix" and the rest is history.

3. “Your D. of Shuichi is a copy" (of what? They have never specified it): Wrong again. My comic (January 12, 2021) is slightly inspired by a book that I love called "Disarticulations", which tells the story of a woman with Alzheimer's. Obviously, neither Shuichi nor Kokichi have this sad disease, since the only thing I took from the book was a phrase ["only when we forget something, can we begin to remember"] and the rest is a modern interpretation of a philosophy concept name that I willn't mention because it would ruin much of the mystery. It isn't a copy, at most it has an intertext inside.

4. (This is perhaps the most inconceivable lol), “Your Remake is a copy”. because it makes all the logic in the world... to copy myself. I know that my style has changed, but I think is clear that the two drawings are the work of the same person because... they both have my watermark on them *sigh*.

- I think this shouldn't even be a topic of discussion, it's very easy to find the publication dates of each of the Au's in this blog, and if they need more "proof" I have each of the original files saved on other platforms. In addition, it's very easy to identify the same dates in the metadata. Personally, I wasn't going to say anything about this because is a waste of time for me, however this post is to affirm that I'm not going to delete my drawings or my account just because some children are bothered by my saiouma, my ideas or they "don't like me" for their immature reasons. Here posted drawings just for fun, I don't want money, or anything like that, I'm never going to profit from this because I'm not a professional artist like many of my friends and, thanks God, I don't need it. For this same reason, I have the total freedom to posting what I want since, as I said, is a hobby.

My apologies for this text, but I thought is necessary to clarify the obvious in case any of you became a recipient of this nonsense.

Have a nice day, ladies and gentlemen.

Long Live Tonight.

SPANISH/ESPAÑOL:

Bueno, este va a ser el último post que voy a hacer sobre este tema y luego voy a concluirlo. Como ustedes saben, seguidores, hace un par de meses he estado recibiendo comentarios (anónimos) de odio de parte de gente inutil que tiene mucho tiempo libre. Normalmente, ignoro esta clase de cosas porque son los pasatiempos enfermizos de gente cobarde, pero me he enterado que han estado esparciendo difamaciones sobre mí, así que voy a dedicar este post a contestarles:

1.Tu Liar Princess es una copia de xxxx. Error. Esto me lo dijeron en 2021 pero mi AU fue publicado en Feb 17th, 2019. Solamente tienes que ir al post original y encontrarás la fecha de publicación. Este AU nació por mi fanatismo por el videojuego. No hay historia más detrás de esto. Sin embargo, es importante recalcar que la historia de mi AU es MUY DIFERENTE a la historia del videojuego. El Caballero y la Cazadora no existen en el videojuego, las intenciones del Lobo son diferentes (el lobo del juego es mucho más amigable), y el príncipe no tiene ojos mágicos. Estos son algunos ejemplos. ¿Es una copia de qué exactamente?

2.”Tu Identity V3 AU es una copia”: Mi AU’s fue publicado el Oct 17th, 2018, dos años antes del anuncio del Collab. No soy una viajera del tiempo, es imposible que sea una copia y aunque yo decidiera dibujar algo sobre esto el día de hoy, entonces eso sería simplemente un fanart, no una copia. A esto agrego, este AU’s nació cuando el juego de Identity V no era el juego mundialmente reconocido que es hoy en día. Simplemente pensé “sería un mix cool” y el resto es historia.

3. “Tu D.of Shuichi” es una copia (¿de qué? Nunca lo han especificado). Como sea, de nuevo error. Mi comic ( Jan 12th, 2021) está inspirado levemente en un libro que amo llamado “Desarticulaciones”, el cual cuenta la historia de una mujer con alzheimer. Obviamente, ni Shuichi ni Kokichi tienen esta triste enfermedad, ya que lo único que tomé del libro fue una frase “solamente cuando olvidamos algo, podemos empezar a recordar” y lo demás es una interpretación moderna de un concepto de la filosofía cuyo nombre no voy a mencionar porque arruinaría gran parte del misterio. No es una copia, a lo sumo tiene un intertexto.

4. Esta es quizás la más inconcebible, “tu Remake es una copia”. Porque tiene toda la lógica del mundo el copiarme de mí misma. Sé que mi estilo ha cambiado, pero creo que es evidente que los dos dibujos son obra de una misma persona porque ambos tienen mi marca de agua en él.

Creo que esto ni siquiera debería ser un tema de discusión, es muy sencillo encontrar las fechas de publicación de cada uno de los AU’s en este blog, y si necesitan más “pruebas” tengo cada uno de los archivos originales guardados en otras plataformas. Además, es muy sencillo identificar las mismas fechas en los metadatos. Personalmente no iba a decir nada sobre esto porque es una pérdida de tiempo, sin embargo este post es para afirmar que no voy a borrar mi contenido ni mis cuentas solamente porque a unos niños les moleste el saiouma, mis ideas, o yo no les agrade por sus razones inmaduras. Publicó dibujos solamente por diversión, no quiero dinero, ni nada parecido, nunca voy a lucrar con esto porque no soy una artista profesional como varios de mis amigos y, gracias a Dios, no lo necesito. Por esta misma razón, tengo la libertad total para publicar lo que yo desee ya que, como dije, es un pasatiempo.

Mis disculpas por este texto, pero creí necesario aclarar lo evidente por si alguno de ustedes llega a ser receptor de estas tonterías.

Tengan un buen día, damas y caballeros.

Long Live Tonight.

#Ask #Asks #text post #Thank you all for your support and kind words #But we won't waste anymore of our time on potential sociopaths #Kisses to my anonymous cowards <3 #I still have a lot of AU's for all of you

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sprnklersplashes · 2 years

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prompt: I’m a barista and you keep making weird faces when you drink the “Christmas cheer in a cup” coffee I make, why do you keep ordering it? (ao3)

Janis is convinced that whatever corporate asshole came up with this drink is a Grinch who hates Christmas and wants to ruin it for everyone. And by ‘everyone,’ she mainly means baristas who make minimum wage at a coffee shop because their parents are no longer willing to fun their cosplay habit. Meaning if they want to put together the best possible Yelena Belova costume in time for Comic-Con next year, they need to start saving now.

Hence, they have a “do it for her” meme filled with pictures of Yelena saved as their phone background.

You see, this isn’t just a regular drink. Oh no. If it were a regular drink, then Janis would be able to make it through their workday with the usual amount of groaning and complaining expected from any teenager working under the capitalist hellscape at Christmas. But this drink is different. Because in addition to costing more than she makes in half an hour (something she’s pointed out to Damian frequently), this shit takes twice as long to make as your average coffee. Not only are there three different syrups in that bitch-caramel, peppermint, and hazelnut-but she also has to throw some nutmeg in there, top with whipped cream and more cookie crumbs, and then remember to stick a little gingerbread man on top. All without killing herself or burning herself on the coffee maker because it’s probably older than the actual business is, and this place hasn’t been health checked since the Great War.

They call it Christmas Cheer In A Cup. Janis calls it “I do not get paid enough for this.”,

But the wildest part is that the damn coffee is only half the story Janis tells Damian on their break. Because apparently, the world is determined to make their December both incredibly stressful and also just so god damn weird.

It happens almost every day they work. They work Monday 5-10, Wednesday 4-10, and Saturday 9-2. Easy enough, and they can balance it with their schoolwork. Hell, sometimes when it’s dead, they’ll start making their notes at the counter, just to save time. And every time they’re on… they appear. Janis has taken to calling them “Mystery Athlete” on account of the letterman jacket they’re always wearing when they come in because it’s not like they ever get a name (they don’t do that kind of thing here). Six o’clock on Monday and Wednesday, one o’clock on Saturday. They were slightly late last Saturday, coming in at 1:15, but they still came. Sometimes alone, sometimes with two or three obnoxiously loud boys wearing the same jackets. Which is fine; regular customers are nothing new here.

Except for the fact that Mystery Athlete always orders that damn Christmas Cheer In A Cup, the very drink that makes Janis want to throw herself headfirst into the coffee grinder. They gave up on hoping that they’d change their order two weeks ago, and instead channeled their energies into not screaming every time they pick up the cup. If Janis thought they were cute at first, that has made them significantly less so.

Damian raised an eyebrow when she remarked that to him one day and wouldn’t even tell her what he meant by that. Bastard.

But again, that’s not even the weirdest part of this thing. Because that would be too simple. No, the weirdest part of this entire saga is that this person has ordered the Christmas Cheer In A Cup a total of ten times now, and every single time, they gag. Janis has seen it with their own eyes; every day they’re here, they come in, they order the monstrosity, they dump four packets of sugar in it, they take a sip, and they gag. And it’s not subtle either; they fully stick their tongue out, their eyes bulge out, their whole face scrunches up. Sometimes when Janis is close enough, they can even hear the choking-gagging noise they make. Janis doesn’t blame them, because yes, this shit is disgusting, but surely they know their pain is entirely self-inflicted.

Yeah, Christmas Cheer Kid is an utter mystery to Janis. And despite all the pain, they’re causing them by ordering this drink, they’re also the single most interesting thing to happen around here.

So there Janis is on Saturday morning, red apron over their ripped jeans and All I Want For Christmas playing in the background (she’s already asked, and no, apparently she can’t change it). The place is completely quiet; she’s only had two customers in the past hour. One of them still sits in the corner; broadsheet newspaper open in his lap as he sips his black coffee. He’s pretty cute, with his mustard coloured shirt and little beige fedora. And so Janis spends part of the morning sketching him on the back of a take-out page. They stick it up against the shelf, earning a compliment from their co-worker Sophie, and then take out their calculus textbook. Apparently, getting a half-paid scholarship to an arts-based school means you still have to do math. They plow through equations with pursed lips and a furrowed brow, scribbling out answers and rewriting them. They try not to fall into a pity party about their dyslexia, but it’s times like this they realise how much they hate it.

“Wow, that’s a face.”

Janis’ feet leave the ground, her whole body jerking backward. Her head snaps up, and her eyes widen, and of course who should be there but her Mystery Athlete, plus some of her usual pals. Standing there with an apologetic smile on their face while Janis tries to get their heart to stop hammering out of their ribcage. The universe must be having a field day, they think.

“Sorry,” Mystery Athlete says. There’s a red tingle in their cheeks, and it looks kind of nice against their caramel coloured hair. “Just… you looked in pain there.”

“Retail will do that to you,” Janis sighs. “As will calculus.”

“Oh, you’re doing calculus?” they squeak. To Janis’ surprise, they lean over the counter, and to her further surprise, she makes no move to hide her book. The kid looks up again, the red having faded to pink, and Janis wipes down the counter to ignore the flutter in their chest. “Sorry, I just really like calculus.”

“Really?” they snort. Anyone liking calculus is bizarre to them, but especially now. They shrug, tossing the cloth between their hands. “Never heard of a jock who likes math.”

“Jock?” they echo. Janis gestures to their letterman jacket. Now that they’re actually conversing, she can see the small ‘North Shore High’ stitched on in yellow. Ah, North Shore, she should have worked that out.

Mystery Athlete looks down and gasps, a small chuckle escaping them.

“Oh, no, I’m not a jock,” they explain. They clasp their hands together and rise up on their toes, the proud smile brighter than the fairy lights around them. “I’m a Mathlete.”

Janis freezes, their brain stalling to a complete halt. They don’t know what they were expecting but…. Not that.

“You’re… a Mathlete,” they say slowly. “Not a jock.” It feels so obvious now. The number of times they’ve come in and sat in the corner flying through a notebook. Their school plays against North Shore, and they’ve still come in on game days.

To top it off, they look at them again and just then notice the ‘mathletes’ written across the left side.

Wow, she’s setting a new record for stupidity. The kid doesn’t make fun of her; instead, they seem sympathetic, and that just makes it worse. She says a silent prayer for the ground to open up and swallow her down to the Earth’s core. Because plunging into boiling lava must be less painful than this.

“So, your usual?”

“Huh? Oh yeah. Thanks.”

They turn around as the milk heats up, their conversation sparking something in Janis. After all, they just looked at her notes, and that’s pretty personal shit. So it’s only fair that they can pry back to satisfy their raging curiosity.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Um, sure. I guess.”

Janis leans forwards on the counter, and the Mathlete mirrors her. The corner of her mouth turns up.

“I’ve seen you every time you come in here. You order this drink every time. That’s three times a week. Not stalking, by the way, just observant.” Mathlete nods before letting them continue. “So three times a week, I make this drink, and every time you hate it.”

“What?” they scoff. “No, I don’t.”

“Yeah,” Janis replies dryly, one eyebrow raised. “Ya do.” She shrugs her smile dipping, softening even. She looks down at the counter, rolling a paper straw between her fingers. Part of her whispers to get out of there now, a small danger alarm flaring up in her mind. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending, she’s never really listened to that alarm. “I mean I’m not mad or anything. I’m just pretty curious.”

“Well….” They begin. “I’m-I… I just-” Red flushes their cheeks now, and Janis is torn between having fun and wishing she’d never said anything. Because while she pretends not to have feelings, she does, unfortunately. “I mean I-”

“Okay this is painful.” Janis gets her second shock of the day as one of the other jocks-Mathletes, she corrects herself-comes forward. He walks with a little too much swagger in his step, not to mention his lips seeming permanently pursed. Coffee Kid flashes them an apologetic look and that really tells Janis all they need to know. He flings an arm around them and Coffee Kid tries not to roll their eyes. “You see, my friend Cady here thinks you’re kinda cute, but they don’t know how to talk to pretty people-ow!” He rubs his side, where Cady’s elbow had just dug in. “What? It’s true. Anyways, they like you but they don’t know how to talk to you and they ordered that one drink the first time we came here and now we have to drive twenty minutes after practice to get coffee from here while we pass three perfectly good coffee shops on the way.” He beams, perfect white teeth and bright eyes. “Anything else?”

“No-thank you Kevin,” Cady says flatly. They rub circles into their forehead, their face crumpled. Kevin nods, either completely oblivious to the chaos he just caused or not caring, and asks for an oat milk latte.

He goes to sit down, taking the rest of the Mathletes with him, then it’s just them and Cady again.

“So…” Janis begins. That’s all they have really, because how do you react to something like that.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Cady says. “I didn’t mean for it to end up like this. I can-I can just go, it’s fine. You don’t need to do anything.”

“Woah, woah, wait.” The words are out of Janis’ mouth before they realise it, and this time they don’t ignore the fluttering in their chest when Cady stays. They follow their gut, as they often do, for better or worse, and lean down on the counter, a smile tugging on the corner of their lips. They play with a spare wooden stirrer, but they don’t take their eyes off Cady. “I finish in an hour. And if you’re still around… what do you say we grab something? Maybe hang out a little bit?”

“Sounds nice,” Cady says, and now it’s Janis’ turn to blush. “Just… no festive coffees this time around. Or at least no more Christmas Cheers in Cups.”

“Oh no,” Janis agrees. “I think we’ve had enough to last us a lifetime. And we don’t want to risk you getting any cavities.”

They end up getting milkshakes instead, despite it being the middle of December. As Cady talks away about their love for math, Janis reckons it was the right call.

#cadnis #mean girls broadway #mean girls musical #cady x janis #mean girls fanfic #cadnis fanfic #cady heron #janis sarkisian

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wackatoshi · 4 years

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love letters

satori tendou x f!reader

summary: (soulmate au) in which tendou writes a letter to his soulmate.

definitely based off the song IDK You Yet by Alexander 23, please listen <3

“I’m here for the letter thing,” Tendou says, fingers drumming on the wooden countertop apprehensively.

He feels too tall, too large, having to duck his head so as not to disturb the string of paper cranes hanging from the low ceiling.

There’s a distinct preloved smell lingering in this little hole-in-the-wall op shop. Everything about this room speaks chaos — from the mismatched furniture to each dust-bitten ornament, tied to a handwritten price tag.

He wonders if he’s walked into the right place.

“The letter thing?” the elderly woman repeats, peering up at him through thick-framed glasses.

“Uh,” Tendou stammers, running a hand through his blazing hair. “The love letter thing?”

If the woman notices his blush, she’s too polite to show it. “Oh, of course, dear. Why don’t you take a seat and fill out this form for me? I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”

She hobbles off to the back, leaving him alone in this musky room with a sheet of paper containing some very peculiar questions.

What did you eat for breakfast this morning?

Gee, is it bad that he can’t even remember?

Balancing the paper on his knee, he scribbles down his answers as best as he can, feeling rather hopeless, rather embarrassed for being here at all.

It was a colourful leaflet he’d chanced upon earlier in the afternoon. Bold, audacious and almost comically sensational: Write a love letter to your soulmate!

Tendou was no stranger to these crafty swindles.

The prospect of having a soulmate is a lifeline for lonely people. It’s reassuring to know that someone out there is meant for you, to fall in love and into forever with — all in due time, of course.

But comfort lends itself to vulnerability, and vulnerability is a magnet for exploitation. Clever ruses, catchy gimmicks — for some people, the wait is simply unbearable. Tendou figures that there’s just something people like about racing against the clock, trying to outsmart fate and take hold of their own destiny.

But he’d stared at that leaflet with a little more attention than he gave most things these days.

Maybe it was because Ushijima had just met his last week, and it had been emblazoned across a local newspaper much to his former captain’s annoyance. Maybe it was because Reon had just popped the question to his — a rather futile thing, in Tendou’s opinion, if you were destined to be together anyway.

Maybe it was none of those things. Maybe it was the fact that late at night, while the rest of the world was fast asleep, he was wide awake, paralysed by the dreadful realisation that in a world of seven and a half billion people, he’d never felt so alone.

The creak of a door interrupts his thoughts. Tendou glances up, and sees the same frail woman smiling kindly back at him.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she says, her voice warm like blankets and home. “Come in.”

He listens, but it’s a little hard to concentrate with how much is going on in this tiny little room.

The old woman pours him a cup of tea as she talks, instructions mingled with brief anecdotes about past customers, her profession, and the wonderful mystery of the soulmate phenonemon.

Tendou gazes at the orange walls and its countless fading photographs, framed in gold. There are bookshelves filled with thick hardback volumes, stray papers and miniature figurines, wrapping around the room like the arms of a tree.

It feels like he’s stepped into the pages of a storybook.

“Tell me,” she begins, pushing some blank sheets of paper towards him. “Why do you want to write? Why not wait?”

There’s nothing accusatory in her tone. In fact, there’s something akin to compassionate understanding, making him relax, take a sip of the tea — cinnamon, with something unidentifiable — and think.

It’s an impossible question to answer. Was it down to his aching loneliness, the incessant desperation for comfort he’d been fighting? Had it been sheer curiosity, the absurdity of that leaflet proving too much of a temptation?

There’s a sliver of light in the cave of his chest, flickering like a candle. Something that helplessly hopes this letter might actually fall into your hands — whoever you are. That something tangible can tether you to him now, even if it isn’t the right time yet.

He breathes out. “If I could tell her something, for sure, I think it would make me a little more patient.”

A knowing and sagacious smile plays over her lips as she pours the tea into her cup. Tendou squints at the steam and wonders if he’s seeing straight — tiny little stars twinkling through the fog — but blames it on the trick of the light.

“Are you afraid, child?”

“Afraid?” he asks. “Of what?”

“Of meeting your soulmate.”

I don’t even know her, he wants to laugh, but quickly realises that maybe, deep down, he is a little bit afraid.

“I think she’ll be scared of me,” he admits.

The old woman laughs, a sound of cosy warmth and amusement. There’s a youthful chime to it, and Tendou catches a momentary flash of who she might’ve been fifty years ago.

The flickering Turkish lamp on the table scatters shards of colour on the blank pages before him. He swallows tightly.

“What should I write?”

“Whatever your heart has been waiting to say.”

So he writes.

To whom it may concern,

Dear you,

Dear soulmate,

Is that too upfront? There’s something weighty about that word. But that’s the suggestion the lady gave me, so I guess we’ll both have to endure it.

Apparently, there’s not a lot I’m allowed to say. Not even my name, where I live, or how old I am. Something about cheating fate and whatnot, so that’s cool.

What can I tell you about me? I’m six foot, shaped like a Greek god, all washboard abs and walnut-cracking biceps...

Just kidding. (Not about the six foot part though - at least I have that going for me.)

I probably was a Greek god when I used to play volleyball, though. My team and I still keep in touch, but it’s becoming less frequent now — everyone’s lives seem to be getting started while I’m still here, in my hometown, like nothing’s really changed.

So hurry up, alright? Kidding.

To be honest, I’m not sure if you’ll even get this letter. I’d like to hope so, because talking to a sheet of paper like this is just a bit pitiful, don’t you think?

I would really like to know what you think.

Do you think I’m stupid for indulging in one of the oldest cons in the book? I wasted a good portion of my manga savings for this, you know. But what’s life without a little risk, anyway?

Do you think about me?

Do you think there’s life outside of earth? Somewhere in that cluster of stars, is there a whole other universe with the same old customs and traditions like us?

Or do you think it’s just us, circling around and around this lonely space, repeating history like a lazy sitcom rerun on a Sunday afternoon?

Do you think you can miss someone you’ve never met?

How do you like your coffee? Or do you drink tea? Do you have it black, or with sugar and cream?

One day I’ll know. Maybe not today, maybe not even tomorrow. But I’ll wait for it.

I hope you’re doing well, soulmate. I hope that even if you’re not, even if life just sucks right now, you’ll hang on. I know it can be rough, believe me.

I promise I’ll look after you. Even when you’re sick, I’ll make sure you’re fed and warm and just you watch, I’ll still make you laugh yourself to death. You can take me anywhere — shopping, movies, parks, a random convenience store two hours away because only they sell the type of chocolate you like — just take me, I won’t mind.

I hope that weird thing called fate gets us right.

I hope this letter makes it into your hands, somehow, and I hope it makes you feel a little more at ease once we meet.

But until then.

Love,

Yours truly.

It’s sealed in a glittery envelope, so flamboyant that he has to bite down a laugh. The old woman douses the letter with a puff of pink perfume — a pungent scent of flowers.

Tendou watches in amusement, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie.

“Well, it should arrive in a week’s time,” the old lady says, nodding emphatically.

She sure has a lot of conviction, for a con artist.

“Great,” Tendou plays along, with a wry smile. “How will I know?”

He’s taken aback by the mysterious glimmer in her clouded eyes.

“Oh, you’ll know.”

One fall afternoon, as the sun is beginning to retire for the day, the pathway outside filled with commuters rushing home, Tendou’s wiping away the crumbs on the bakery’s counter, polishing the glass pastry display.

Suddenly, the door swings open, its bells ringing.

He glances up, mouth automatically parted to say, sorry, we’ve just closed, but then he sees you.

It’s exactly like they say, and nothing like it at all.

A sweeping feeling rushes through him, like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff face, listening to crashing waves roar beneath him, beckoned by the salty secrets carried by the wind.

It’s exactly as they say — you’ll feel like you’re falling.

The way your eyes settle on him, how they soften and blink with delicate surprise. The pleasant smile blooming into something larger than life, more colourful than spring.

It’s nothing like they say — you’re far too beautiful for words to do any justice.

He steps towards you, carefully, curiously.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

There’s a long pause as he stares, unabashedly awed at the sight of you. He wonders about it all — what does your voice sound like, what does his name sound like, who are you, you’re so beautiful, what would it be like to hold you, where have you been, you’re so beautiful—

And then, you laugh, a shy little song that sounds like a wind chime. It pulls him back, tethers him to this moment, to you.

“I’m, ah, my name’s Tendou Satori,” he says quickly, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Satori,” you repeat, softly, and it drips from your lips like pure honey, like molten gold, and it’s suddenly the best thing he’s heard in his entire life.

You tell him your name, with a nervous little hiccup. It’s so sweet, it’s so you, and he feels himself falling and falling and falling...

“I love you,” he blurts out, overcome.

You blink.

“Well,” he quickly recovers, “I will. Won’t I?”

The unwavering confidence in his voice sweeps you off your feet.

He’s a flustered mess. He asks for five minutes to finish tidying up the store, then tosses his worn apron over the counter and pats himself down for the shop keys, his phone and wallet. Once he’s pulled himself together, you let him take you out somewhere.

There’s something comforting about his presence that you know must belong to the whole soulmate deal. The way you want to slip your hand in his — even though he’s a stranger, even though you know nothing but his name — the way you want to hold on like you’ll never let go.

So you do. You catch his swinging hand and lace your fingers between his, learning and committing the gesture to memory. Because this is what forever is going to feel like.

Tendou looks down at you in surprise, his heart stuttering at the contact. You throw him a warm smile, and he smiles back, and then you laugh, and he laughs. And it’s so simple, it’s so easy, and a part of him thinks he wouldn’t mind waiting another eternity for you, knowing this would be on the other side.

As you walk down the footpath together, a bounce in your step, hands interlocked like two halves of a whole, Tendou glances to his left at a now-vacant shop space, once occupying a strange old hole-in-the-wall op shop. He furrows his brows.

“What is it?” you ask, peering through the glass, into the barren room.

“Funny,” Tendou says, with curiosity. “I could’ve sworn I’ve been here before.”

#tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #satori tendou x reader #satori x reader #tendou satori #satori tendou #tendou imagine #satori tendō #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #hqappreciation #PLS PLS PLS WORK #FRICK #I WORKED SO HARD

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sanchoyo · 3 years

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danny phantom season 2, episode 17-20 thoughts! finishing up season two! the finale is the THIRD 2-PARTER OF SEASON 2. that's so many! I wonder how many season 3 will have?

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-UERGH WHY DOES VLAD HAVE AN AI WITH MADDIE'S FACE ON IT. SOOO CREEPY. AND MORE 'CREATIONS' waiiiit. vlad is Dr. Frankenstein! (despite his ghost design obviously referencing vampires) HE HAS 'CREATIONS' HE MAKES THEN WONT TAKE REAL RESPONSIBILITY FOR!!! this bitch.

-danny was late and his friends immediately start going off about how hes inconsiderate, and has been treating them like sidekicks??? he just overslept, my god. chill. even if he has, be nicer about talking about it with him?? he really can't help that he sometimes has to chase the ghosts, or has a secret identity to protect...

-'what kind of ghost haunts a miniature golf course' umm. me as a ghost. next question

-imagine going home and theres a tiny child on your bed claiming to be your cousin. with as many cousins I have, I would probably believe her. but the 'ran away from home' BIT....SHES 12?? SHES SO TINY. I hate that they have her belly out in her ghost form, but I like how her colors are asymmetrical. something about her design...maybe the proportions?? are weird to me...anyway danny was good to feed her, but he shouldve taken her to his parents FIRST. or, tbh, probably jazz. (JAZZ DIDNT EVEN GET TO MEET HER!!! NOOO. I mean she said she'll be BACK BUT STILL)

-ANYWAY. shes voiced by AnnaSophia Robb, the girl who was in because of winn dixie, played as violet from charlie and the chocolate factory, and was the girl from bridge to terrabithia. (the movie that made me cry hysterically when I was 12 and I never watched it again because it Broke Me!) thats super cool.

-vlad sucks: the episode, basically. what's new!! I love how he's like, I'm Not A Villain. *immediately cuts to him torturing danny to make him transform, to get mid-transformation DNA, to perfect a Clone.* *immediately shows that he doesnt give a shit about his new daughter Dani and just wants a ''more perfect clone'' and will put her in danger to get that. will let her DIE to get that*

-Dani is danny's clone and is a girl? transgenderism....one of them has to be trans. or they both are.

-dani just. leaving at the end. WHAT? SHES 12. DONT JUST. NO!!! SHE WAS PROBABLY JUST BORN, A MONTH AGO AT MOST, RIGHT?? SHE NEEDS...SOMEWHERE TO LIVE. MONEY? FOOD?? A FAMILY?? AN EDUCATION???! WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S LEAVING!!! OKAY BYE I GUESS!!! D: concern!!!

-the next ep opens with skulker chasing a ghost down. ...does skulker count as a ghost hunter in the way valerie and danny do? I mean, sure, he hunts the good guys too, but he. he hunts ghosts...also, we haven't seen his Real Form since his debut episode! tiny...

-the guys in white are back! ngl, I assumed they were a gag for that one episode. you're telling me they might actually be a threat? ok.

-valerie in her lil nasty burger uniform looks so cute!! glad shes not in that mascot uniform this time. I guess she stopped hiding that she's working there now?

-gregor having white hair, dressed in black and white...and green eyes...sam has a Type, I guess.

-danny being unnecessarily hostile about gregor. danny!!! hes been nice so far. he looks a little...tall to be 14, but. danny doesnt know anything about him! (he does Suspect, but...you cant just spy on people and be rude to them from a hunch.) also, gregor kissed her, and when she freaked out, he was like 'oh no!! sorry, we can take it slow! I understand!' which was NICE. I hate jealousy plots still tho.

-altho. umm. tucker, being concerned about danny spying on them??? SAM AND YOU WERE SPYING ON DANNY AND VALERIE A FEW EPISODES AGO!!!!! im not saying its RIGHT, but dont be a hypocrite!!! AND THEN SAM BEING MAD ABOUT IT, TOO.

-DANNY IS A 7 ON THE SCALE OF ECTOPLASMIC POWER!!! out of 10? so I want to know where the other ghosts rank...I mean it's a list from the guys in white, so, it may not even be accurate, like, they havent seen ALL of his powers, have they?

-Lancer being like 'im not cooperating with the FEDS' until they said they could access his tax records. they already did that joke with jack, but like, its still funny. kings of tax evasion.

-tucker's aggressive third-wheeling. but gregor being super into it. gregor/tucker is the real ship here. then gregor kissing danny on both cheeks after hugging him. bi poly king gregor. (he does turn out to be a liar with a phoney accent. unsurprising, BUT THE CONCEPT OF HIM BEING GENUINE AND THEM ALL DATING IS FUN)

-THE...GUYS IN WHITE THINKING GREGOR IS DANNY PHANTOM. LMAOOO. GET HIS ASS. or,, Elliot. lmfao

-sam saying tucker is part of the package because theyre friends was super sweet <3 but also 'part of the package'...polyships are obviously the solution to these dumb jealousy/love triangle plots.

-danny crashed a whole plane. the collateral damage...

-is he....

-you know....

.... (ITS NOT GAY IF YOU'RE DOING IT TO PRETEND TO BE SOMEONE YOU'RE NOT, AND LIE TO A GIRL. RIGHT? he was getting a little too into pretending to enjoy tucker's company, and the above...c'mon, guy.)

-lmao, freakshow is in actual prison. I didn't expect a follow up, or for him to show back up! in the finale of this season, too!

-THE SICK TATTOO GHOST IS NAMED LYDIA!!! more Lore On her. freakshow seemed genuinely concerned about her. also, is she mute? I don't think she talked the first time we saw her, either. and we didn't know freakshow 'envied' ghosts, either, the first time, we just knew he was controlling them. interesting!

-...they literally stole the infinity gauntlet from marvel and called it the reality gauntlet. is that legal. what the fuck. even with the gems in the lil slots, having different powers...they had freakshow in jail, but didnt check his pockets??! hes just still in his lil outfit??? what kind of ...oh, its in amity park. yeah, all of the adults are idiots, okay, sure.

-'freakshow!' 'in the anemic flesh!' dude take some iron pills then. also, sure, the red eyes could be contacts for his aesthetic, but the whites of his eyes are yellow! does he have jaundice?! he severely needs more...like, every kind of vitamin. (this is what im worried about as freakshow attacks danny with giant robots)

-again, goth circus is a sick theme, and I love his goth train.

-oh FUCK every single person saw danny transform. on a stage. including his parents via TV. oh god. the guys in white and immediately like 'youre coming in for experiments!' SCARY. at least the crowd is willing to help him to escape...perks of now being a local celeb! even the kids at school are accepting :) this is what, the third time his family has found out? its always been an alt timeline tho. and danny fully intending to just rewrite things again instead of...I dunno, trying to roll with it this time? hes really worried his family won't accept him, huh...

-'maybe our son IS THE GHOST BOY, but its not as if our family's ghostly activities have EVER PUT YOUR FAMILIES IN DANGER' maddie. mmmmmmmmmmmm. okay.

-danny 100% prepared to run away from home because of this :( oh :( and saying his parents are 'looking for him, or a scalpel to dissect him with' ouch...

-THE GUYS IN WHITE TRYING TO ARREST A 14 YEAR OLD. fuck da feds.

-side note (another one about voice actors...) freakshow's voice actor, Jon Cryer, was lex luthor in pretty much every DC tv show, which is why I recognized his voice, because my dad loves those shows so I've seen a good bit of them without seeking them out...)

-the old man saying 'hey, i still had minutes left!' and danny saying 'you gotta watch those roaming charges!' about danny destroying the people in the diner's phones so no one could report seeing him...would kids today understand these things. can you even BUY minutes anymore...I remember my first phone being a flip phone, and the fact I always had minutes when my sister ran out super fast, because I didnt have friends calling or texting me like she did...:/

-the fentons being genuinely like 'why didnt danny trust us and tell us this, we love him :(' and JAZZ LAYING INTO THEM WITH THE 'DISSECTION/MOLECULE BY MOLECULE' LINES. LITERALLLLY. they need to apologize

-technically, lydias stronger than you! -jazz lesbianism moments! when did you even learn her name!!! but also get freakshows ass. lydia is also cooler looking. looove her design sm still.

-jazz psychoanalyzing freakshow... (also, her also having ghost envy? au where jazz is a ghost!! id like to see it)

-im glad the kids still got to go to their respective vacation things, even if they cant really stick around and enjoy them much...

-furry: confirmed. (also tucker calling her hot. tucker is a furry confirmed)

-danny being mad someone at the comic con is selling comics of him without permission, lmfao. give him his royalties!

-freakshow > thanos because hes a drama clown and does use his gauntlet to be FLASHY AND DRAMATIC.

-jazz's 'USE PYSCOLOGY' to danny about freakshow LMAOO. AND THEN IT WORKING. but, oh, freakshow's ghost form sucks. I like him as a clown better tbh. good thing danny took away his ghost powers!

-his parents hugging him and saying theyre proud :"( and saying 'of course you lied to us, we never gave you a reason not to!' and saying they were in the wrong basically for always talking about hurting ghosts aaaa :""(

-then he WIPED THEIR MEMORIES AGAIN!!! FUCK. I can understand him wiping the goverments/student bodies' memories, but why his parents?? they were being accepting!! ARGHHH. season 3 couldve been them all trying to adjust to them knowing!

-I know, on a meta level the showrunners probably wanted to just reset things to the status quo of him having a secret identity. But. We've been doing that for (2) seasons, I'd love if season 3 could be like, his parents adjusting to this and trying way harder to learn more and accept it (and the shenanigans that could come from that) and for fun, if he didn't wipe the students memories, it could be him being popular for a while, then everyone slowly realizing, oh, he's still Danny. Like. he might have ghost powers but hes Just The Same Guy instead of putting him on a pedestal (and seeing them all try and help him hide it from the giw/people who don't know!!)

-fuck they didn't even explain WHY he wiped everyone except sam, tucker and jazz's memories. he just Did It right when his parents were saying they loved/accepted him!! and sam and tucker didnt question it at all!!! HELLO??? very annoyed about this turn of events.

-anyway. onto season 3! I know its shorter than the first two seasons, and is the last season... I might just do it in 2 bursts if I can... :3c depends on the episodes' content and how much I want to say about each!

#sanchoyorambles #danny phantom #dp thoughts

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fubukiswifenoimnotjoking · 3 years

Note

💎

Ooo, fun facts or trivia! This one is super hard bc I feel like every mega OPM fan already knows the trivia and I’d just be preaching to the choir, but I’m gonna think on it!! Might have to result to personal opm facts u know?

1. I first found out about OPM when I saw a commercial for season one on adult swim and thought it looked really creative and funny

2. It’s my second manga ever! I tried reading Sailor moon but only got two volumes in bc I hated it :/ was too girly and convoluted to me

3. My pop got volume one for my 13th birthday! I remember unboxing it and being like :0 it was a Halloween b day party too 😏😏

4. A few months after I started opm I drew Saitama’s face in sharpie on a craft egg and he was my first OPM toy/figure(?). Still have him somewhere! I tried to draw Genos too but his face was too squished

5. I have a dvd of season one that’s just the normal edition and a bootleg af version with the OVAS that my uncle got from god knows where. The OVAS are only in Japanese tho :/

6. I have a miniature cottagecore house for my Sai and Genos nendos!! I’ve talked a little about it before but never posted pics for it bc tumblr kept messing it up. I’ll try to show it soon tho! It’s got an overhead light, oranges and orange leaf wallpaper, tiny pictures of fubuki, Garou, Mumen, etc, hanging pots, fake moss on the outside, windows, Keith haring art, tiny teacups, a picture of saitama punching Nick Wilde that I got off tumblr (I’ll try to link it if I can find it) and so much more. I just now thought of putting up some gay flags in there, like why haven’t I thought of that before?? I’ll prob put up and mlm flag for Genos and a demi flag for Sai bc that’s how I hc them. I’m very proud of the house and I’m always adding onto it :) OO and I like to pose my nendos every now and then, tho I’ve posed them so many times that I’m running out of ideas 😭

7. I have a really cute lanyard I got years ago at a comic con that I never wear bc when DO you wear a lanyard? Wore it recently tho bc I was bored. Its got Sai Genos Tatsu Mumen and fubuki on the strap in chibi, they’re so cute.

8. Including posters, official Murata art, fan art, my art and posters, I have 10 opm things hanging around my room. It’s unhealthy I know 😃

9. I started with the manga, watched s1 of the anime then s2 when it came out years later and finally decided to check the wc after. If you had to make me choose, I’d choose the manga. I love the webcomic but the manga is more solid (not completely of course) and just more fun to read. Tho the webcomic IS fantastic don’t get me wrong, ONE is a great artist. The anime is pretty good, I’m still sad they had to cut s2’s budget but I love it anyway. THO I HATE HOW THEY TRANSLATED THE SAITAMA SAVING EVERYONE FROM CENTICHORO SCENE BC THEY TOTALLY DIDNT GET THE DRAMATIC LOVESICK LOOK ON GENOS FACE AND THE SURPRISED LOOK ON SAITAMA LIKE THAT SCENE WAS SO ICONIC AND THEY FUCKED IT I—sorry. Still upset.

10. I used to hate Tatsumaki Amai and Suiryu! Suiryu is still on thin ice bc he gives me such arrogant fuck boy vibes. Tatsumaki has grown so much in the current arc and even the arc before it and I just love her so much, even if she’s mean. Amai is a sick but he’s loveable and an interesting one you know? Especially bc of the webcomic. Used to get annoyed by Fubuki but now I’m in love with her LOL

11. I straight up thought Sonic was a girl until I watched the dub and heard his voice 💀

That’s about all I can think of! Sorry if this totally isn’t what you asked for, just a little lost on how to talk about fresh trivia u know? Thanks for ur ask tho :)

#opm #one punch man #opm asks #fubuki #genos #saitama #genosai #mumenrider #tatsumaki opm #speedosoundsonic

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

Impersonator

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, death of minor character.

Words: 1953.

Summary: Meeting a cosplayer in Berlin isn’t a big deal, really. You don’t actually know why you are drawn to this guy in his stunning horned helmet, standing on the train with a seidr in his hand.

P.S. I own the plot of this story to amazing @caffiend-queen and my determination to write it to lovely @kinathewolf <3 Although I changed the story a little (this post made us discuss the idea), I hope you will like it!

_____________________

Waking up when it was barely six, you kept yawning and rubbing your eyes while sitting on the train. You worked for one of the thousands of start-ups in Berlin, and your boss always liked to start pretty early. Well, despite waking up when it was still dark, you didn’t mind, really – the U-Bahn was much less busy now than thirty minutes later, and you didn’t have to stand the whole way to your station.

Today was a bit different, though. Not that there were too many people, but that one guy with his horned helmet looked so fantastic you simply couldn’t take your eyes off him. He had entered on the Bismarckstraße station, and since then you had been staring at him shamelessly. He was the spitting image of Loki, that god from Asgard, the one who had been released by Avengers not so long ago for his aid in protection of Earth from an invading alien force. Now Loki had his own fan club, and this guy was probably one of the squad. Seeing him in a full suit wasn’t surprising either – tomorrow was the first day of Comic Con, so he was probably going for a cosplay catwalk rehearsal before the event.

No one was really paying attention to him as he stood silently near the door with his seidr, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Come on, he was probably the most handsome guy you had seen in years, not even mentioning his gorgeous costume. Although you had never been Loki’s fan – for God’s sake, you still remembered that day in Stuttgart – this guy’s passion for cosplay was admirable.

When you reached Wittenbergplatz, a group of cheerful tourists entered the train, and the guy had to move further, taking a place close to yours. Of course, you still stared at him in awe, and he quickly noticed you. His piercing gaze finally made you realize it was unacceptable to gawk at someone like this, and you averted your eyes, feeling your cheeks growing hot. The cosplayer chuckled at your reaction.

“I’m so sorry!” You muttered, clenching the fabric of your jacket. “I just- ugh, I mean, your cosplay is stunning!” Now that you said it, you were just too humiliated to add anything. Why couldn’t you be like all other people who didn’t harass the poor guy with them staring? Of course, no one would be comfortable with some creepy girl watching over them.

But the guy didn’t look worried or embarrassed even the slightest bit. When you saw his face, you realized he was amused as he looked at you with a grin on his face. Now you even felt a little scared because there was something animalistic in his gaze.

“Thank you. I was spending day and night crafting this costume.” He was smiling, and you realized he was probably playing the role of Loki now.

Oh damn, of course. Being a cosplayer meant not only wearing a costume of your character but being this character, behaving like them, speaking like them, sometimes even moving like them. This guy was doing exactly this, and, to be honest, he was really good at acting since for a minute you believed he wasn’t just a mere human.

“I’m sure you will be the winner of the contest this year.” You smiled shyly at him, still embarrassed at your behaviour earlier, and the guy laughed at you a little. God, you felt so terribly awkward.

“Thank you. If my brother won’t show up, I’m sure I’ll have a chance.” For a second you thought there was something bittersweet in his eyes, but then it was gone, and the cosplay rose to his feet, shining in the electric light of the subway. “This is my stop. Have a good day, my lady.”

Of course, you barely nodded at him, felling like you’re gonna explode from the way he called you and how the guy bowed his head a bit at you as if you truly were some Asgardian goddess. Minutes later you would curse yourself for being so stupid to not even ask his cosplayer’s nickname – how on Earth were you going to find his profile on Facebook now? Since you were in the middle of a new marketing campaign, your boss would never let you leave tomorrow to visit Comic Con, and that was your only chance to ever see that amazing guy again.

Ugh, living with that useless brain of yours was quite a challenge.

You had already bid farewell to the cosplayer since you knew meeting him by chance again in a city as big as Berlin was impossible – especially if without his costume and wig and makeup the guy would be unrecognizable. The next evening you were sitting in the train just like all other evenings when you were coming late from work, a bag with a chicken sub in your hands along with an already cold cup of tea. You sighed, thinking of Comic Con and all the fun people were having there. Damn, next year you would definitely take a short vacation to finally visit the convention. Maybe you would have a chance to meet that mysterious guy again.

“It smells nice.”

You immediately raised your head, staring at the cold blue eyes of the guy you met yesterday’s morning. He was still wearing his horned helmet and shining golden armor, the Scepter in his hand. He sat close to you again, and you suddenly found the courage to smile at him widely. God, it was happening. He was really here, with you.

Was he coming back from Comic Con? You thought they finished way later, but maybe he was just tired to spend the whole day in this outfit – you could imagine how heavy it was – and left earlier. You couldn’t blame him, thinking of how many people probably wanted to take a photo of him during the day, too, and it was definitely tiresome as hell to pose in front of tons of people for hours.

“Would you like some?” You handed him your paper bag. “It’s a sub with chicken. I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Ah, it’s a very generous offer. It would be rude of me to decline it.” His smile sent chills down your spine, but you reminded yourself he was still playing his role. Anyway, what could he do? Follow you to your apartment in this outfit? Seriously? He would be stuck in the hallway with those horns of his.

You watched like the Loki-guy took a half of your sub and returned the other half to you, then taking a bite and chewing slowly. To your delight, he nodded, telling you he liked it without words, and you chuckled at him. Now he looked almost cute with his puffed cheeks as he kept biting more and more. Apparently, the sub wasn’t bad, and you dug in it enthusiastically, caring little for a few other passengers. No one was looking at you two, anyway.

Halfway through finishing his part, the guy stared questioningly at your paper cup of tea, and you smiled at him with confusion.

“You can have it, too, but it’s already cold, sorry.”

Now he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Did he think it was funny? Was it because he thought real Loki would find it funny? You were too confused but decided not to ask. You looked silly enough yesterday when you were gaping at him with wide eyes. No more of this today! You couldn’t blow it if you wanted to ever see the guy again.

“It’s quite alright. Let me help you.” He carefully lowered his seidr so it touched your cup, and in the next moment you saw a soft blue glowing surrounding it. It was coming directly from the Scepter, and you literally opened your mouth while staring at it wide-eyed. Wait, did this guy put something inside the seidr? Like, a light bulb or something? God, it was beyond your imagination!

But before you started throwing questions at him, you suddenly saw a wisp of steam coming from your tea and felt how the cup grew hot in your hand. Oh shoot, it definitely wasn’t just some light bulb! His Scepter was a real machine!

You probably looked like a little kid, your eyes shining and jaw dropped at the sight of something that looked like a miracle to you, and Loki-guy chuckled softly. He was seemingly content with your reaction as you even sniffed your tea a little bit to feel it really was hot again. But when you brought the cup to him, thinking he wanted to drink, he gently refused it.

“Thank you, but you have already given me enough.” His smile was much softer, and your cheeks grew hot again at his kindness, though it was you who shared your food with him. Strangely, it was like this stranger had some effect on you, and you smiled back at him, lowering your head to have a sip of tea.

However, the next moment the guy furrowed his brows, looking somewhere behind you, and you saw him lifting his seidr again, pointing at something behind your back. You missed his concerned gaze, but not noticing the blinding light coming from the Scepter was absolutely impossible – for a second you almost lost your eyesight, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching the paper cup in your hand. What was that?! But before you got truly scared, the light had disappeared, and all you saw was that Loki-guy sitting close to you with a piece of chicken sub wrapped in a napkin in his hand. His Scepter looked the same as before, no blue glowing coming from it. Wait, you didn’t imagine this blinding light, did you? It was here just a second ago!

As you tried to turn back to see what was happening, the stranger suddenly stopped you, his warm hand on your shoulder as he leaned closer to you, smiling, “Your tea is going to be cold again.”

“Yes, b-but-“ You gawked at him and then stared at his seidr, unsure what to say. “I-I mean, have you seen that light? Did it come from this thing?”

You heard someone behind you letting out a sudden scream and smelled metal and plastic melting. It was disturbing enough as it was, but then you realized you smelled the burning flesh searing from someone’s bones.

The Scepter. The guy’s resemblance to the Asgardian God of mischief. Shit.

Before you tried turning again to see what was left of the seats behind you, Loki’s grip on your shoulder became painfully strong. You watched him leaning even closer to you in slow motion, the world around you slowing down as the man whispered to you in a dangerously low voice, “Don’t look back. You don’t want to see what is left of that creepy man who was staring at you all the time, do you, dear?”

Frozen on the spot, you barely nodded, your eyes not leaving Loki’s pale face as he smiled, letting go of your shoulder and touching your arm surprisingly gently instead. You heard the sounds of crying and whining, people around you scattering to the different part of the car to be as far as possible from a man in the horned helmet. But you just couldn’t move from your place, glued to your seat, an Asgardian God looming over you.

“I am grateful for you sharing your meal with me. I’d like to thank you properly,” he said softly, and you swallowed your tongue instead of letting out a loud scream. “Let’s leave on the next station. I know a few nice places in Mitte.”

___________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight

#loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #dark loki #dark loki x reader #yandere #loki of asgard

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harley-sunday · 3 years

Text

The Draw - Epilogue

Summary: The whirlwind starts at the 2018 ACE Comic Con in Phoenix but you’re not sure where it will end…

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language.

Word count: 1.9k

AN: This it. It’s done. I don’t really know what to say other than that I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. The ending (part 17) was supposed to be something completely different up until last week, when eL convinced me to take the angsty-route. I’m glad she did, because it allowed me to include a piece in the epilogue I wrote a long time ago but never really got to use until now. Thank you, sweets! Here it is, guys, enjoy! ♥

Masterlist

His collar is up and his hands are tucked deep into the pockets of his jacket because it’s cold, much colder than it usually is this time of year anyway. He looks up at the dark sky and wonders if there’s any snow in the clouds that slowly drift by, trying to remember if he’s heard anything about it on the news earlier that day but not recalling a weather warning going out.

He’s on his way home after another meeting with his lawyer, who, for some reason, always insists they meet in a restaurant rather than his office. It’s never during normal business hours either but always late at night, and always somewhere else. At first he was fine with the arrangement but it’s starting to annoy him that the restaurants have become increasingly more expensive and he’s always the one that ends up footing the bill. As if he doesn’t pay his lawyer enough to help him come out of this messy divorce as unscathed as possible.

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the guilt that he feels about wasting three years of his life in a loveless marriage that never had a chance of succeeding in the first place. His therapist tells him to look at it as personal growth, but he doesn’t agree, not really, anyway. At least the court date has been set, he thinks, and this should all be over and done with two weeks from now.

He quickens his pace as he lets his mind wander, taking long strides, looking straight ahead and not paying much attention to the few people that are out this late. Most of them ignore him too. It’s New York after all. For a moment he debates the option of hauling a cab to get him out of this cold but he dismisses the idea quickly. He likes the walk home from downtown, it gives him an opportunity to clear his head and helps with the insomnia that sometimes bothers him.

Crossing the street absentmindedly there’s something on the other side that catches his eye. He does a classic double take and then shakes his head, not quite believing what he sees. He must have walked by these storefronts at least a dozen times and tries to recall if the art gallery has always been there, but he simply can’t remember. The black canvas that’s displayed in the window is illuminated from above by a single light bulb, highlighting the various brush strokes going from left to right and top to bottom. He knows it’s called ‘Love’ before even looking at the little card pinned to the bottom right corner, and it’s like someone’s punched him in the gut. He first saw it a few years ago, when it was still a work in progress, standing on an easel in her guest bedroom in Charlotte, the paint still wet, and the black somehow less black.

It’s then he notices the lights inside the building are on and it’s like his body has a mind of its own and before he knows it he’s on his way in. A bell chimes above his head as he enters and he hears a chair being pushed back in response somewhere. The space he’s in is long and narrow, only about fifteen feet wide, but the ceiling’s high and makes it feel more spacious than it is. There’s a wall about forty feet in, with a door that’s slightly ajar, and music flowing in from the back room, some song he thinks he recognizes but hasn’t heard in a long time.

“I am so sorry but we are closed,” the voice is soft, coming from behind the door, but he would recognize it anywhere and he chokes up a little at the familiarity of it all. The door opens a little more then and all of sudden she’s there, exactly like he remembers her, “I must have forgotten to-” but she doesn’t finish her sentence because it’s then she sees him. Her eyes widen in shock and she actually drops the paintbrush she’s holding, her eyes never leaving his.

“Hey,” he says with a foolish grin, because never in a million years did he expect to run into her again, not here, and definitely not tonight.

“Hey,” she mimics, her eyes softening and the hint of a smile on her lips.

He takes the few steps needed to get to her, and for a moment he hesitates, unsure if she’d let him, but then he throws his arms around her and pulls her in for a hug. He can feel her smile against his shoulder, and he presses a kiss into her hair, because God, does it feel good to hold her again.

“Here you go,”

He takes the beer she hands him and waits until she’s uncapped hers before he raises it in a toast. She clinks her bottle against his and takes a swig and he follows suit.

They’re sitting on the floor of what turns out to be her art gallery, their backs against the far wall, looking out on the dark street on the other side of the window. She turned the lights off before she brought him his beer, except for the lone bulb illuminating ‘Love’, and it feels like they’re in a little bubble, shielded from whatever’s going on outside and if someone told them he’d have a way of making this little moment in time last forever, he’s sure he would.

He’s taken his jacket off, using it as something to sit on after she admitted she’s only got one chair here, his legs stretched out in front of him and his head resting against the bare brick wall. He’s got a million questions for her but he’s not sure where to begin and so he takes another sip of his beer instead, letting the silence settle between them.

She’s sitting next to him, close enough that her arm brushes against his whenever she takes a drink and it feels like there are little electric currents running through him every time she does. She looks up at him then, her eyes narrowed, almost as if she’s studying him, “You ok?”

He wants to tell her he’s fine, great even, but the way she looks at him tells him she’ll see straight through any bullshit answer he’ll try to give and so shakes his head, “Not really.”

“Talk to me,”

He opens his mouth to say something but then decides against it. They haven’t seen each other in four years and so much has happened but none of it they went through together and-

“It’s ok if you don’t want to,” her voice is soft and kind. She clears her throat then, “It’s just- I’ve read the articles about your divorce and- Well, the accusations she's made and- I don’t know, Seb, I figured maybe it has something to do with why you’re out this late.”

“Yeah,”

“I’m sorry.”

He lets out a heavy sigh because he doesn’t want to bother her with everything that’s going on in his life, not really, but he also knows she’s a good listener and there’s no one he’d rather talk to than her right now. Looking down he plucks at the edge of the label on his beer bottle, deciding then to be honest with her, “I guess I should have fought harder, should have made it work, I-” another sigh, “They say you never know what you got ‘till it’s gone, right?”

He sees her nod out of the corner of his eye, and then her hand’s on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze and it’s like a bolt of lightning runs through him, “Then why don’t you?”

His eyebrows knit together in confusion, “Why don’t I, what?”

“Fight,” she explains. “Try to make it work. If that’s really how you-”

“Would you let me?”

“I-” she hesitates and pulls her hand back then, “What?”

“I wasn’t talking about her,” he confesses quietly and when he looks up at her he sees her eyes are wide in shock. He tries to smile, “It’s always been you.”

“Oh,” she breathes, her eyes a little glossed over now. She doesn’t say anything else and he doesn’t really know how to go from here so he keeps quiet too. But then she puts her beer down and stands up, holding out her hand to him, “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

He takes her hand and lets her pull him to his feet. She doesn’t let go when she leads him to the front of the gallery, her hand warm against his, and when he gives it a gentle squeeze she smiles at him from over her shoulder and it warms his heart in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

She stops in front of a painting, reaching behind it to turn on the searchlight, the warm light casting a golden glow on the canvas. “I made this one right after we broke up,” she says, her voice a little rough, “took me forever to finish because I couldn’t stop crying.” His heart breaks a little, but she dismisses her statement with a wave of her hand, “I got there in the end. It was like therapy.” A smile then, “I submitted it to a local art competition and I don’t know-” she shrugs but he can tell it’s important, “People seemed to really like it. Someone actually wanted to buy it but I couldn’t- I would never.”

She gestures around her then, “This is all because of that.” He must look confused because she continues, “I kept painting, had some of my work on display in local art galleries, but it wasn’t until I decided to quit my job after Deb retired last year and Mark got appointed as her successor that things really took off. More art shows meant I sold quite a few pieces, enough so I could open my own art gallery anyway.” She looks up at him, “I don’t really know how I ended up in New York, but,” another shrug then, “here I am.”

“Here you are,” he agrees quietly. He doesn’t know how these things work, if it’s karma or faith or destiny he has to thank for this, but he likes to believe that her coming back into his life at this exact moment was meant to be and he vows right then and there to never let her go. There’s still so much he wants to tell her, has to tell her, and he’s sure the same goes for her, but it doesn’t matter. Not now anyway. Now he just says, “If you’ll let me, I’m willing to fight.” He squeezes her hand, “For you.”

“Me too,” she whispers. “For you,” she looks at him then, “and for us.” She lets go of his hand a little, only so she can intertwine her fingers with his, leaning into him, her other hand on his arm. She nods towards the painting, “Do you like it?”

He looks at it then, really looks at it, taking in the different shades of green she’s used, which, even when they’re on opposite sides of the canvas, seem to pull towards each other, always meeting or almost meeting in the middle, and somehow he just gets it. “I do.”

“It’s called ‘The Draw’.”

#The Draw #Sebastian Stan imagine #Sebastian Stan fanfic #Harley Sunday x Sebastian Stan

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olderthannetfic · 4 years

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Hey, sorry to ask this, but a few days ago I saw a post/discussion about the history of original work on ao3 (i.e. how and when it was allowed). I thought it was in my likes, but it's not, and I thought you had reblogged it recently, but I didn't find it. I was wondering if you have seen this discussion around? Or where I can find more about it? This specific post talked abt how who defended original work on ao3 were not the BNFs, if that helps.

That was me running my mouth in the reblogs of something or other. It’s just the one comment.

But what’s that you say? Some tl;dr about a pet topic? Don’t mind if I do! ;) (To be honest, most of this debate happened years ago, and a lot of the long meta was by me back then too, so…)

Okay, so, the situation with Original Works is actually super interesting and a microcosm of early years OTW wank.

This is going to be even more tl;dr than my usual. To try to summarize very briefly:

There were two big cultural factions. One thought “original” was the opposite of “fan”. That one was in charge of OTW. It was hard to get voices from the other side into the debate because they already felt excluded from OTW.

This divide broke down more or less into Ye Olde Slash Fandom on the “it’s the opposite” side and anime fandom on the ��WTF?” side. Americans on one side and a lot of non-US, non-English language fandom on the other.

I. Media Fandom, Anime Fandom, and Early OTW

I went to that first fundraising party that astolat threw in New York City back in… god… 2007? 2008? I wasn’t on the Board or any official position until the committees got started later, but I was around right from the very beginning.

Whether you’re looking at volunteers or at people who commented on astolat’s original post, there were always a variety of fans from a variety of fannish backgrounds. People aren’t absolutely in one camp or another, and fannish interests change over time. If you go dig through Dreamwidth posts to find who was actually participating in this debate at the time, half of them are probably in the other camp now.

If you think like that sounds like a preamble to me making a bunch of offensively sweeping generalizations and divvying fans up into little groups, you’d be right! Haha.

I.a. Ye Olde Media Fandom

There are a lot of camps of people who like fanfic. One of the biggest divisions has been Ye Olde Media Fandom vs. anime fandom. Astolat’s social circle–my LJ social circle–was filled with people with decades of fannish experience and a deep knowledge of the Media Fandom side of things.

Those fandom history treatises that start with K/S zines in Star Trek fandom in the 70s and move on through the mainstream buddy cops like Starsky & Hutch to the more niche, sff buddy cops like Fraser and Ray or Jim and Blair are talking about Media Fandom. I try to always capitalize it because the name is lulzy and bizarre to me unless it’s a proper noun for a specific historical thing. It was coined as a rude term for “mass media” fandom aka dumb people who like, ughhhh, Star Trek, ughhh, instead of books. This is a very ancient slapfight from the type of fandom you find at Worldcon, often called “SF fandom” or plain “fandom”.

(Yes, this leads to mega confusion on the part of some old dudes when they find Fanlore and fail to understand that “fandom” there refers to what these people would call “Media Fandom”. They think only they get the unmarked form. But I digress…)

Media Fandom is a specific flavor of fandom. It’s where the slash zines were. It’s where the fans of live action US TV shows were. It’s the history that acafans have laid out well and that tends to get used to defend the idea of a female subculture writing transgressive and transformative fanfic. On the video side, Media Fandom is where Kandy Fong invented vidding by making Star Trek slideshows.

(Kandy’s still around, BTW. She’s usually at Escapade in L.A. Ask her to tell you about the dancing penises sketch in person. She’s hilarious.)

Astolat and friends had been going to slash cons for years. They founded Vividcon. And Yuletide. That meant that when astolat said “Hey kids, let’s put on a show!” we all jumped to help. This is a lady who gets things done.

From a Worldcon perspective, or even from an older Media Fandom perspective, this group was comparatively young, hip, and welcoming. Their fandom interests were comparatively broad. Just look at Yuletide!

In fact, yes, let us look at Yuletide… [ominous music]

I.b. Yuletide sucks at anime

From the very first year (2003), Yuletide mods have asked for help with anime fandoms, been confused about anime fandoms, or made bad judgment calls about anime fandoms. They’ve fucked up on Superhero comics and plenty of other things over the years, but anime has been the most consistent (well, and JRPGs, but there’s so much overlap in those fic fandoms).

There was already bad feeling about this. There were years of bad feeling about this.

I.c. Where are the historians?

Academic study of fanficcy things pretty much got started with Textual Poachers and Enterprising Women. Other acafans who are well known to LJ and later Tumblr are people like Francesca Coppa who wrote a very nice summary of the history of Media Fandom. These are not the only academics who exist, these academics themselves have written about many other things, and by now, OTW’s own journal has covered a lot of other territory, but to this day I see complaints on Tumblr that “acafans” only care about K/S and oldschool slash fandom.

There were years of bad feeling about this as well.

I.d. What kind of fan was I?

Now, by the time OTW got started, I’d moseyed over to not only a lot of live action US TV but a lot of old-as-fuck US TV that is squarely in the Media Fandom camp. But once upon a time, I was a weeaboo hanging out with my weeaboo friends in college. I learned Japanese (sort of). I moved to Japan. Livin’ the weeaboo dream!

More importantly, I used to be a member of a lot of anime mailing lists back in the Yahoo Groups days. I didn’t realize what a cultural gap that would cause until the original works issue came up on AO3.

I.e. Anime Fandom, German-language Fandom, Original M/M

Once upon a time–namely in that Yahoo Groups era–there was an archive called Boys in Chains. It was where you found The Good Stuff™. Heavy kink and power exchange galore! It was extremely well known in the parts of fandom I was in, even if you weren’t on the associated mailing list. It contained lots of fic, but it also had lots of original work.

Around that same era, I was on a critique list called Crimson Ink, which was mixed fic and original. The “original slash” and “original yaoi” crowds mixed freely and were in fanfic spaces. Remember, this is like 2003. You’re never going to get your gay fantasy novel published in English in the US. A couple of fangirl presses started around then, but they died an ignominious death after their first print run.

Fanfiction.net used to allow original work before it spun that off into FictionPress. We forget this today, but if you were an early FFN person, the separation wasn’t so great either.

Meanwhile, German-language fandom was hanging out on sites like Animexx.de, a big-ass fic archive that prominently mentions also including original work. I have the impression that Spanish-language fandom was similar too.

Shousetsu Bang*Bang was founded in 2005. It was a webzine for original m/m, but it was entirely populated by fanfic fandom types.

In all of those kinds of spaces, there was a lot of “original” work that was kind of slash or BL-ish and seen as fannish if it was posted in the fannish space. These weren’t anime-only spaces. They were multifandom spaces where it was seen as obvious and normal that a couple of huge fandoms like Harry Potter would dominate but that everything else big would naturally be anime.

While fans from every background are everywhere, I found that the concentration of EFL fans living in Continental Europe, South America, and Asia was much higher in this kind of space, even the exclusively English language part of it, than in my US TV fandoms.

II. AO3 Early Adopters

AO3 went into closed beta in 2009. In 2010, it was open to the general public (albeit with the invitation queue it still has). But not everyone was interested yet. Just like fandom is loath to leave the dying, shambling mess of Tumblr, fandom was loath to leave dwindling LJ/DW circles or was happy enough on Fanfiction.net. I used to see a lot of posts like “Why are you guys trying to STEAL fanfic from the original! FFN is enough!”

I literally could not give away the invitations I had. No one wanted them.

So who was on AO3? Obviously enough, it was all of us who built it and our friends. So that means a bunch of oldschool Livejournal slashers coming from fandoms like Due South or Stargate Atlantis.

The queue was open. Anyone could make an account. Everyone was welcome. In theory…

But more and more, there started to be these posts about how “AO3 Hates Anime Fandom” and “FFN is for anime. AO3 is for Western fandoms.” and “If you guys actually wanted anime fandom on there, you’d invite us better and make us more welcome.”

At the time, I found these posts obnoxious. People aren’t purely in one sort of fandom or the other. No one was stopping anime fandom from making accounts. No one was banning anime fandom. If there wasn’t much from old fandoms, that was because old fandoms seldom move.

Things began to change. Trolls on FFN forced the Twilight porn writers out, creating enough fuss and brouhaha to mobilize people who would rather have stayed put. AO3 got big enough that randos found it by accident. Original work started to pop up, posted by people who’d never looked at the rules and had no idea it was not allowed.

III. History of AO3’s Policy

I had argued for allowing “original work” during the initial discussions about the ToS. On one side of this issue was me. On the other, everyone else on the committee.

I was overruled.

Open Door started importing old archives to save them. Boys in Chains was hugely important to fandom history from my point of view. It was slated to be imported… maybe. Except that Boys in Chains is half original. AO3 was happy to grandfather in those stories, but the final archive owner felt, quite rightly, that it would be unfair to tell half of the authors they were welcome in the new space while spitting on the other half.

I was pissed. I had been pissed since being overruled the first time. To me, the fact that it should be allowed was so blatantly obvious that it was hard to even explain why.

(To be honest, this difficulty in explaining why and the even greater difficulty in figuring out the source of that difficulty is what held the discussion back for so long. When every assumption on either side is completely opposite, it’s hard to communicate.)

I felt betrayed. It would be like if you helped build something, and everyone was suddenly like “Well, obviously, we can’t allow m/m. It’s not normal fanfic.”

So we discussed it again and, again, it was me vs. literally everyone else. And still the “AO3 is only for Western slash fandom” bitching rose in volume and more and more people complained of feeling excluded from the new fandom hub. Finally, the committee agreed to open the issue up for public comment and get some more input. I was a fool and neither wrote nor proofread the post. It went out phrasing the question as allowing “non fannish” work or something of that sort.

I was furious. The entire point of the whole debate was that I saw some original work, the original work that belongs on AO3, as inherently fannish. And now this had been presented to the AO3 audience as something completely different. Think pieces were popping up in the journals of everyone I knew about diluting AO3’s mission and how we needed to save AO3 from encroachment. Public opinion was very negative. That’s both because of how the post was phrased and because OTW die hards at the time were mostly from the same fannish background. This tidal wave of negativity meant that there was virtually no chance of changing this poisonous rule. And if the rule didn’t change, the people who wanted the rule change were never going to show up to explain why it mattered.

If you’ve been reading my tumblr, I think you can guess what happened next.

I posted a long post to my Dreamwidth. It was a masterwork of passive aggression. In it, I wrung my hands about how simply tragic it would be if AO3 had to delete all of the original work… like anthropomorfic.

Now, I think anthropomorfic counts as fanfic as much as anything else, but I also knew that it fails most rigorous “based on a canon” type definitions of fic and, more importantly, it’s a favorite Yuletide fandom of many of the people on the side that wanted to ban original work.

That’s a nice fandom of yours. It would be a pity if something happened to it.

Yup. Passive aggressive blackmail. Go me. Suddenly, there was a lot of awkward backtracking and confused running in circles in various journals. The committee agreed to table the idea for a while but not rule out the idea of allowing original works in the future. We agreed to halt all deletions of original work. If a fan posted it, the Abuse Committee (which I was also head of at the time) would not delete that work even though it was technically against the rules.

Time passed. The people on the negative side got tired. I wanted off that committee and had wanted off for ages, but I was damned if I was going to leave before ramming through this piece of policy. Grudgematch till I die! (Look, I never said I wasn’t a wanker.)

After a while, some other fans came forward with more types of “original work” as evidence that it should be allowed. These were from parts of fandom none of us on the committee knew a damn thing about.

This new evidence combined with the gradual accretion of original stuff on AO3 without the sky falling eventually led us to quietly rule Original Work a valid fandom. There was never even a big announcement post. I slipped a word to the Boys in Chains mod myself.

IV. What Were They So Afraid Of Anyway?

So why were people so resistant? Seems like a dick move, right?

Not exactly.

I mean, I was enraged and waged a one-woman war to change the rules, but the other side wasn’t nuts. The objections were usually the following:

I just don’t get why it would be allowed. It never was in my fannish spaces.

Most of our members don’t want this.

Most of the examples of things that ought to be included are m/m. We are privileging m/m if we allow it, and AO3 already has a m/m-centric reputation that can feel exclusionary to some fans.

AO3 is a young, shaky platform that can barely handle the load and content we already have. If we open to original work, we’ll be opening the floodgates. The volume of posting will be so high, it will drown out the fic we’re actually here to protect.

Protecting stuff that doesn’t need protection because it’s not an IP issue would dilute OTW’s mission.

If we allow it, idiots will try to turn AO3 into advertising space, posting only the first chapter and a link to where you can pay to read the rest.

If we add another category of text before we add fan art, that’s a slap in the face of the fan artists we are already failing.

These arguments all make perfect sense in context.

Obvously, the issue with the first two is that different fannish communities have different norms. I knew that a very large community disagreed with the then current AO3 policy, but since so few of them were around to comment, it seemed like a tiny fringe minority.

The m/m thing is… complex. M/M content with zero IP issues is at risk. It is always at risk in a way that even f/f is not (though f/f is also always at risk). Asking for m/m to be exactly equivalent to f/f or m/f in numbers, tropes, whatever is ignoring the historical realities. In our current moment of queer activism in the West, we treat all types of queerness as part of one community with one set of goals, but once you get to culture and art or even more specific activism, this forced homogenization is neither useful nor healthy.

OTOH, AO3 really did have PR problems related to the perception that we gave m/m fandom the kid glove treatment. That objection wasn’t coming from nowhere.

AO3 was shaky. It was tiny when I first brought up this argument. Hell, it wasn’t even in closed beta the first time we discussed this. Part of what made the quiet rules change possible was AO3 organically getting much bigger and OTW having to buy many more servers for unrelated reasons.

The “floodgates” thing was put to rest by tacitly allowing original work before the rules change. We had a period to study how fans actually behaved, and as I predicted, only a small amount of original work got posted. It was indeed mostly things like original BL-ish stories or original work that had been part of a mixed original/fic fest, exchange, zine, etc. Currently, the “Original Work” fandom on AO3 only has 76,348 works. That’s pretty big compared to individual fandoms but tiny compared to AO3’s current size.

The commercial argument was spurious because commercial spam had been against the rules from the very beginning. OH THE IRONY that nowadays AO3 has all these idiots trying to post the first chapter of their fanfic and then direct you to where you can buy the rest.

AO3 has plenty of fanfic of public domain works. One of the problems with gatekeeping original work is that any way you try to distinguish it (not based on a specific canon, not an IP issue, etc.) will apply to some set of obviously allowable fandoms.

As for fan art… OTW has failed fan artists. They needed protection as much as or even more than fic writers. Just look at Tumblr! If we had succeeded at making DeviantArt but allowing boners, fan art fandom could have been safe all these years. Or when Tumblr inevitably shat the bed, we could have scooped up all those people instead of them scattering to twitter and god knows where.

OTW has failed vidders too, at least in terms of preservation. I know I’m not the only one who thinks this. Other major people from like the first Board and shit have discussed this with me offline. Doing some kind of vidding project, possibly outside of OTW is on a lot of our to-do lists. But at least one of OTW’s biggest victories has been that copyright exemption. OTW has demonstrably done really positive things for vidders that other organizations and sites have not. As a vidder, I never expected to see good hosting for the actual video files, and I’m quite content.

But fan artists… yeah. That argument makes sense at least from a place of frustration.

BTW, for the love of god, if you’re a n00b to OTW stuff, please do not reblog this post excitedly telling me that hosting fan art is on OTW’s road map, so yay, good news. Someone always does that, and it’s so irritating. I haven’t been involved in OTW in years, but I used to be, and I know what is on the roadmap. The couple of you who do heavy lifting on sysadmin and coding and policy things are welcome to weigh in as usual. I know none of us like that we can’t host fan art. It’s not what we intended.

Nonetheless, I found this argument to be the perfect being the enemy of the good. If we can save more text now without losing much of anything, we should do it. The fact that we’re fucking up on the fan art front is not a reason to spread the misery around.

V. Is “Original” the Opposite of “Fanfic”?

Okay, so that tl;dr above is why “BNFs” were on one side and “nobodies” were on the other. BNFs from one cultural background founded OTW. BNFs from the other cultural background weren’t even aware that the debate was going on.

But what was the underlying philosophical problem in even having the conversation?

It took me a long time, but I finally worked it out: We had two completely different ways of categorizing writing, and they were so baked into how we phrased questions that everything ended up being unanswerable to the other side. Here is what I came up with:

Schema 1

Fanfic - based on someone else’s IP

Original Work - the opposite

Schema 2

Non-Fannish Work - School essays, stories you are writing to try to sell to a mainstream publisher

Fannish Work Type 1 - based on other people’s characters directly (i.e. fanfic) Type 2 - based on tropes or whatever (“original slash” and the like)

Now, in the current moment when half of Tumblr just got into Chinese webnovels and the m/m ebook industry is thriving in English, original, tropey, BL-ish work is no longer different from “things I am trying to sell”. But this is how the divide was circa 2005 on fannish websites, and it’s the divide that was driving this internal OTW debate.

VI. Let’s Summarize the Camps One More Time

So, again, the debate makes perfect sense if you understand who was involved.

On the mainstream “But that’s not fanfic? I’m confused?” side:

Big US TV fandoms in English

Fandom historians of K/S–>buddy cop slash–>SGA, etc.

Americans

On the other side:

Anime fandom

“Original slash” fandom that had already been chased off of everywhere

People upset that AO3 wasn’t farther on translating the interface and supporting non-English language fandom.

People upset about US-centrism in fandom

Yes, I am very white, very American, and by now very into old buddy cop shows, but this was basically how the breakdown worked. It meant that something that looked like a minor quibble to one side was really, really not.

#fandom history #fandom meta #original work #cowboyformitski

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gleekto · 4 years

Text

Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV

Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA, and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.

He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Even Better than the Real Thing (11/13)

Well, so much for finally getting a decent night of sleep.

Night three of Kurt’s staring at the ceiling is, however, significantly better than the first two. Kurt reads Blaine’s text over and over again, Some rules are made to be broken, as if it will somehow reveal its hidden meaning. Which, as Mercedes texts to Kurt the next morning, really isn’t that hidden.

Kurt: What could he mean?

Mercedes: Kurt, he practically spelled it out for you.

Kurt: He said he wouldn’t have asked me out if he had known. Golden rule.

Mercedes: Rules that are sometimes made to be broken.

Kurt: What should I do? Should I-

Mercedes: Oh shit.

Kurt: What now?

Mercedes: Kurt, you better get on tumblr right now-

Kurt: I don’t have a blog anymore. What?

Mercedes starts sending him screen caps of her dashboard. The picture already has 343 reblogs. Blaine Anderson with a fan at the Coffee Bean in Los Angeles...and that random guy he was with sitting as inconspicuously as possible in the corner. Oh god.

I spy with my little eye a potential new boy with him...

Oh I see him! He’s cute. (Thanks. He’ll take it). Same age-ish? Maybe younger? Definitely isn’t a friend we’ve seen before. I think something is happening...

Oh there he goes queerbaiting again. This time coffee with a well dressed friend (Thank you?). Could he be any more obvious?

OH MY GOD THAT IS @LIMABLAINEFAN!! I swear guys. I met him at the Sing!Con two summers ago. That is HIM. Literally having coffee with Blaine Anderson!! (Shit shit shit shit).

And fandom, the story is heating up because we obviously all remember that @limablainefan stopped posting a little while ago because of a conflict with a “friend” who knew Blaine and he DELETED his blog yesterday.

What? omg limablainefan deleted? I’m so sad. I love him and I love his blog. (Well, thanks).

Mercedes: At least you’re loved?

He’s fucking dating him. How can Blaine Anderson be dating a fan? Like a fan who drooled over him for years. There must be a law against this.

Kurt: Well, that’s it. So much for a second chance. Blaine is going to hate everything about this.

Mercedes: He probably won’t love it.

Kurt: Ugh Mercedes. What do I do?

Mercedes: Tell him, obviously. After all that, no more lies, right? He was there. He knows the picture was taken. It is not actually your fault that it ended up on tumblr.

Kurt hates when Mercedes is right. Which is usually. Anyways, his overnight basking in Blaine’s suggestive text is over and it’s time to face the music. This was not exactly his hoped for song but alas. He responds underneath Blaine’s previously hopeful breaking the rules text.

Kurt: You may want to take back that offer.

He sends the screen cap of the pic in the coffee shop.

Kurt: The fan pic from the coffee shop ended up on tumblr. And I got recognized. With you.

Blaine texts back immediately. Shock face emoji. Cry-laugh emoji. Okay, this isn’t the worst sign.

Blaine: Two celebrities trying to have a normal adult conversation and suddenly it’s the talk of the town.

Kurt: Not sure tumblr is exactly front page news.

Blaine: Only for the Sing! fandom.

Kurt: So you knew about all us fans and our crazy?

Blaine: Of course. Well, not about you specifically. But generally, yes. How else would I know what outfits pop? Or who I’m rumoured to be dating?

Kurt sends him the screen cap discussions.

Kurt: Ugh. Sorry about this.

His phone buzzes and it’s Blaine. Calling him.

“This thing is not actually your fault.”

“I could have made sure I was not in that picture.”

“I knew you were there. Everything I do can end up on the internet - twitter, tumblr, paps. Last year, there were amazing pap pictures of me eating a banana in pajama bottoms and nothing else on a walk of shame the morning after the night before.”

“I remember those,” Kurt says it before he catches himself. “Though of course I didn’t know it was a walk of shame,” He adds quickly.

“Mr. Pink, actually.” Okay, Blaine’s not mad and now all Kurt can think of is Blaine gently peeling his banana after a steamy night in a terribly decorated bubblegum room.

“Of torrid sex fame?”

“I hope that part wasn’t on tumblr.”

“Nope. No one ever got a picture of you with Mr. Pink actually. ”

“I told you that you had one up on him.” Kurt thinks he hears a smile in Blaine’s voice. He couldn’t possibly think this is funny.

“You’re really not mad?”

“At you? No. This stuff happens. But please tell me that you are, in fact, 19?”

“Almost 20.”

“Okay, I’ll handle it.”

“Just to be clear - it’s the talk of Sing! Tumblr. Blaine Anderson dating a longtime fandom fan - he’s younger-”

“And well-dressed,” Blaine chimes in, reading the caps.

“Yes, well, I try. Seriously, though, we’ve got excitement, jealousy, speculation, denial - soon there will be fics-”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Kurt can hear comical amusement through the phone.

“X-rated ones,” Kurt adds for emphasis.

“I hope so or what’s the point? I better be good in bed,” Blaine says flatly. Kurt laughs, slightly scandalized. “Honestly, I’ll deal with it.”

“As long as you know that we are the current headline, and everyone is talking about Blaine Anderson and his younger fanboy tryst.” Kurt may be exaggerating slightly but over the top honesty is better than any more secrets.

“Fanboy tryst?” Blaine repeats.

Just as Kurt’s trying to think of something appropriately flirty but not too suggestive to say back, there’s a knock on his apartment door.

“Sorry, I have to get the door. Rachel’s filming all day. I’ll call you back in a sec.”

Or not. The door opens and Blaine is standing there with a smirk and flirty, amused eyes. He’s leaning casually against Kurt’s door post in tight blue jeans and a white t-shirt, slightly untucked.

“Let’s give ‘em something to talk about.”

#gleekto writes #even better than the real thing #wonder what comes next...

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angelic-holland · 5 years

Text

Four’s A Crowd But Baby I Like to Party

Summary: Tom indulges your biggest fantasy one night after ACE comic con. Or the time that Tom lets you fuck Seb and Mackie while he watches.

Warnings: foursome??? unprotected sex, filth and debauchery, mild overstimulation, just like lots of sex

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: I had to indulge in my dream and I’m sorry for posting this at 8am my time. also first time I’ve ever written anything like this so give me a break. Mackie’s family is not mentioned and neither is any infidelity, for the sake of the story everyone is single. Not adding my regular tag list because idk who wants to read this.

***

“No, it’s so embarrassing,” you giggle, pressed against Tom’s side at the very empty hotel bar.

“What? Can’t be as embarrassing as when I said I wanted to fuck you in a corner of a club.”

“Shhh, Tom, they could be here,” you shush Tom, pressing a finger to his lips.

“Who are, love?” He kisses along your finger as you finish your first glass of wine.

“The, mhm, remember when you asked me who, who of your friends, I would, you know,” you fall into another fit of giggles as Tom mouths at your neck, kissing along your jaw.

“Who of the avengers you’d fuck?”

Sometimes Tom is so blunt and it kills you, because you’re almost tipsy and you’re eyes are darting around the empty bar.

“Shhh, oh my god,” you’re putty in Tom’s hands as he bites down on your neck, soothing the spot with his tongue as your hands grip his arms, hands wrapped around your waist and gripping right above your ass.

“What pretty girl?”

“They’re here,” you moan as Tom leaves a hickey on your neck as your eyes widen.

“Who?” He looks up from his spot and his eyes land on two taller men, dressed in what they wore to the panel earlier, who’s eyes immediately land on your face in momentary bliss.

“Woah, children, please,” Mackie laughs as they strolls over to you, “careful Tom, your Instagram girlfriends might have a problem with your side piece,” he jokes as him and Sebastian come to a halt in front of you, Tom turning to face them.

You and Tom both groan at the outburst from the fan from earlier, a surge of embarrassment coursing through Tom’s veins.

“It’s okay, we all have crazies like that, just not used to hearing from them at conventions,” Seb laughs, patting Tom’s shoulder.

“Either way, whatever you were doing, take it upstairs because that 90 year old perv in the corner is getting an eyeful,” Mackie nods towards an older man sitting in the corner of the bar.

“Do you boys wanna join us for a nightcap?” Tom asks, hand giving your ass a gentle squeeze as you yelp, shyly tucking your head into his neck.

“What kinda nightcap we talking about?” Mackie cracks up, slapping Seb’s chest and you peek out at the beautiful men in front of you.

“Keep it in your pants for now,” you joke, both you and Tom are surprised by your flirting.

Seb and Mackie are as well, giving each other a look that’s shared between friends, you can’t quite understand it.

“Why don’t you boys head up to our room while I settle the tab?” Tom pulls out his wallet and you tuck your head back into his neck as they all exchange a look.

“Are we really going to do this?” You mumble as they leave and Tom pays the bartender.

“Well, it’s up to you, were they the ones you wanted to fuck?” Tom whispers as the two of you make your way out of the bar, hands slipping out of each other’s grip as you walk into the hallway, sure someone might recognize the two of you, you’d rather not let the whole world know your secret. There were rumors, of course, the two of you being spotted at clubs together, the looks you gave each other on red carpets, the hickeys you would have all over your neck and the smug look on Tom’s face when you were photographed in public with friends.

As you pushed the button for the elevator every bone in your body felt like it was vibrating.

The doors shut and Tom was on you in an instant, pulling your hips flush with his as he kisses down your neck.

“I don’t know if, I dunno if I could take all three of you at once,” you whine as his fingers push your dress up, hand resting against your bare ass.

“Why’d you always gotta not wear panties with dresses?” He grunts as he tugs at your ass.

“Cause, you’re always wanting to fuck me in public, figured it was easier to give you access rather than you tearing my panties off.”

“How about,” Tom smacks your ass, groaning at the whine that slips past your lips, “you let them have your way with you, and I can sit back in that desk chair and watch.”

“Fuck Tommy,” you whimper as he smirks against your collarbone.

“You like that idea pretty girl?”

There’s a ding that indicates the elevator is on your floor and Tom pulls away from you, you’re slightly flustered as you pull the skirt of your dress down. Tom looks down the hallway and when the coast is clear his hand slips in yours and pulls you towards your shared room.

“Wait,” you stop in your tracks as you come to a realization, “how do they have a key to our room?”

“Remember when you let me send some photos of us to my phone? I saw your albums full of their faces. I may or may not have asked them a while ago if this would be something they’d be into.”

“Tom! Wait, they’d want to?” You ask, hand resting on his chest as he grips your hip.

“Why do you think they’re waiting in there?”

“Wait, what if I’m awkward, or it’s weird or I do something wrong?”

“Hey, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to, we can just have some drinks and send them on their merry way. But pretty girl, you’re so fucking hot even just thinking about you gets me hard. If you want to fuck Mackie and Seb, you fuck them.”

“Is there any, I mean, should we have any rules?”

“What do you mean? Like, what they can and can’t do? What are you comfortable with? We can discuss it with them.”

“I guess, I’d want one of them to fuck me, and maybe I could suck the other off?”

“And are you okay with kissing them?” Tom asks, cupping your cheek as you lean against the door to your room.

“I mean, yeah, would you be okay with that?”

“I might be a little jealous, but I know after tonight you’d be all mine again, so I wouldn’t be too bothered.”

You nod and smile as he kisses your lips.

“So why don’t we go ahead and talk to them? And you can stop at any time, all you have to do is say the word, sound good pretty girl?” He whispers against your lips.

“Let’s do it,” you turn around, pressing your ass against Tom as you unlock the door.

“Welcome to the party,” Mackie laughs, leaning against the dresser opposite the bed. You smile at the two men, Sebastian sitting on the edge of the bed as Tom shuts the door behind you.

“You wanna get them undressed while we talk pretty girl?” Tom asks, kissing you fiercely, his hand sliding to cup the back of your neck as your tongues meet. Your hands are all over him as you whine into his mouth, slipping under his shirt, cupping his hard cock over his jeans. You’ve got other ideas.

“Wanna give them a little show?” Tom smirks against your lips and you nod, smiling as you kick your heels off, dropping to your knees and unbuckling Tom’s pants. Arguably one of your favorite things, leaving Tom a whimpering mess above you, one of the few times he really lost control was when you had him in your mouth. Your eyes glide over to the men watching with bated breath as you pull Tom’s cock out of his boxers, one hand wrapping around it while the other steadies yourself against his thigh. Mackie’s got a smirk on his face while Seb’s mouth is slightly open, both watching as you wrap your lips around the head of Tom’s cock.

“Fuck, good girl,” Tom grunts as you suck at the head of his cock before taking him further down your throat, relaxing your gag relax as you bob your head.

“That's one hell of a mouth,” Mackie comments, sending a shiver down your spine as you moan around Tom’s cock, hand slipping down to rest against his other thigh as you blink up at him.

“Want me to fuck your face pretty girl?”

You moan again, feeling Tom’s hand rest on your shoulder as his hips pull back, leaving just the head of his cock in your mouth before snapping forward, causing you to gag and instinctively pull away.

“Nuh uh, take my cock, thatta girl,” Tom smiles down at you, and it’s incredibly soft even as he’s fucking your mouth. It pulls on your heart slightly as your eyes slip shut.

You focus all your energy on sucking Tom off, savoring each grunt and moan that falls from his lips. You know he’s close after a while, spit running down your cheeks, eyes glassy as you feel Tom pull you off. You take deep breaths as he cups your chin.

“Not gonna last?” Mackie laughs.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tom almost growls back, helping you back off your knees and wiping the spit from your chin, hand cupping your neck and pulling you to his lips. You smile into the kiss before he pulls away.

“Go ahead, go take care of them pretty girl,” Tom tucks his cock back into his boxers before dropping his hands, watching as you stumble over to Sebastian.

“Can I?” You ask, eyeing his thighs, thick and mouth watering under his black jeans.

“Take a seat baby,” he pats his leg and you almost fall apart, straddling his thighs, your dress riding up and giving Mackie and Tom a view of your bare ass.

“Holy shit, she always do that?” Mackie asks as you run your hands up Seb’s chest, over the thick material of his black sweater.

“Only when she wants to be a slut,” Tom chuckles and you whimper as Seb’s hands glide up your bare thigh, hesitant before you nod, hands gripping his shoulders as you pull him in for a kiss. It’s scorching and it’s hot and completely different from the way Tom kisses you. His scruff burns your cheeks as your tongue presses along his lips, asking for entrance. He lets you in and his hands scrunch your dress up, hands hot against your bare hips as his fingers run up your sides.

You hear Tom behind you say something but your mind doesn’t comprehend it until you feel another set of hands against your back, gently brushing your hair to the side as they unzip your dress.

“Can I touch you?” Mackie’s deep voice is music to your ear as you moan into Seb’s mouth, nodding. His hands brush the straps of your dress down your arms and you drop your arms for a second to let him tug the dress down, cooler hands moving around your front as hot lips press against your neck, eager and less hesitant than Seb, nipping and sucking against your skin. His hands grope your breasts, fingers longer and bigger than Tom’s, and he knows it too, smirking against the skin of your neck.

“Like the way my hands feel on you baby? They bigger than Tom’s? Fit your tits perfectly huh?” Mackie smiles as his fingers pinch your nipples, making you cry out against Seb.

“Shut the fuck up Mackie,” Tom grunts and Mackie moves back to suck and bite at your shoulder while Seb’s fingers inch towards your heat.

You whine into Seb’s mouth as his thumb grazes your clit.

“They’re gonna make you feel good okay pretty girl?” You hear Tom and you nod, feeling Mackie’s hands pull at your dress.

“Arms up,” Mackie orders and you pull away from Seb’s lips with a pout, missing the burn of his stubble against your cheeks.

You do as he says and he pulls your dress over your head, tossing it to the side. You feel very exposed, being the only one naked. You grab at the bottom of Seb’s sweater, helping him pull it off. Mackie’s strong hands are gone and you whimper as Seb pulls you back towards him, hips flush as his hands cup your breasts.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles before kissing down your chest, taking one nipple into his mouth and you cry out, arching your back as his hand works on your other nipple.

“Like when he touches you? Like the beard huh?” Mackie smirks, brushing hair out of your eyes as his hand covers your throat, not applying any pressure, thumb stroking your jaw as Seb works over your nipples, scruff leaving a path of burning skin as he moved to your other nipple.

“Fuck,” you moan as Mackie’s hands are back on your body, gripping your ass as you grind down on Seb’s crotch, feeling how hard he is underneath his black jeans. You feel Mackie’s bare chest against your back as Seb’s thumb moves faster against your clit.

You’re falling apart between the two men, your eyes glancing to Tom who’s pulled up the desk chair and watching them take you apart.

His hand is around his cock and he’s tugging it slowly, you whimper as you feel a thick finger against your entrance, slowly pushing into you as you cry out for him.

“Seb…” your voice is breathy and spurs him on, adding a second finger as he fucks into you quicker.

“Gonna come all over Sebastian’s fingers baby? You’re practically shaking against me,” Mackie whispers into your ear before tugging your earlobe between his teeth.

“Fuck, please, please can I come,” you whimper as Mackie’s hand slowly presses down against your throat.

“You got her asking for permission? So well behaved,” Mackie smiles and Tom nods, eyes sparkling with admiration for your obedience even while you’re fucked out between the two men.

“You can come pretty girl.”

You thrash against Seb’s fingers, clamping down on them as you come, body shaking as both of their hands help you stay upright.

Seb continues to fuck you through your orgasm as you twitch against him, grunting as his teeth graze your nipple.

“How’d you want us baby girl?” Seb mumbles against your breasts as his fingers slip out of you.

“Fuck, I, just take me, please,” your mind is hazy and all you can think of is how much you want their cocks.

“No, gotta use your words, tell them exactly what you want,” you hear Tom above the buzz in your ears from excitement and the sound of Seb sucking your juices off his fingers.

You know it’s not meant to humiliate you, instead, it’s supposed to do the exact opposite. He wants to make sure that everything that’s happening is your idea, that you make the rules and they play to your limits. You shouldn’t give them free reign, you needed to tell them what they could do, even just a simple nod in the right direction. That doesn’t stop you from feeling heat rise through your body as you whimper against Mackie’s hold.

“Can you, can you fuck my pussy Seb, please, and can, fuck,” you can barely get any words out as they work over your body and you’re struggling to say the next words, “Mackie, please, please fuck my mouth.”

Mackie almost growls at the command, pulling you off of Seb’s lap, hands gripping your hips tightly as you wobble slightly.

You watch as Seb stands up, his hands working down his pants and boxers at the same time. You can’t help but whimper as Mackie grinds against your ass and you see Seb’s cock for the first time.

“Like what you see?” Mackie kisses along your shoulders, biting down harshly and making you yelp before Seb is grabbing ahold of you and helping you down on the bed, turning you around on your hands and knees so you’re perpendicular to Tom who gets to see you get absolutely ruined from both ends.

“Gonna take our cocks?” Seb asks, your hands shake as you hold yourself up, watching Mackie slowly strip off his jeans, moaning as Seb runs his cock along your folds.

“Please, fuck, need them, need you, please,” you turn to look at Tom, eyes begging for permission, waiting for his go.

The two men notice and as Mackie climbs onto the bed he teases you.

“Gotta ask Tom permission for everything huh? Ask him if you can come, ask him if you can make him feel good? Who knew you two were so kinky,” he kneels in front of your face and your jaw drops as his cock bobs in front of you, thick and veiny and you want it in your mouth yesterday.

“Answer him pretty girl,” Tom demands and you nod, gulping before you respond.

“Yes, love asking him permission.”

“Mhm, do you like when he gives you that permission? Or do you like when he says no? When he doesn’t let you come? Leaves you a dripping mess but never gives you relief?”

You gasp as Seb’s cock pushes ever so slightly into your entrance as Mackie’s thumb hooks into your mouth, running along your lip.

“Like when, sometimes he’ll edge me a lot and then make me come, oh god,” you whimper as Seb pushes into you.

“How much does he make you come?” Seb asks curiously, his hands tight on your hips as he pulls you back against his cock.

“Fuck, I, I don’t know, the record was, oh, fuck,” you whine.

“Got such a filthy mouth baby girl, want something to keep you full?” Mackie asks and your attention is back on him.

“You remember our record?” Tom asks, watching as you strain to reach Mackie’s cock with your lips.

“I uh, mhm, fuck,” you whimper, remembering that time Tom tied your arms above your head and ate you out until you were sobbing, that definitely held the record, “fifteen?”

“I think it was sixteen, that was a good night wasn’t it?” Tom smiles and you nod your head, keeping your mouth wide open as you wait patiently for the feeling Mackie’s cock on your tongue.

“Fifteen? I bet you were a drooling, whimpering mess huh? Kinda like now, gotta get some more orgasms out of you then? Think we can fuck you better than that?”

You whimper at the condescending tone of Mackie’s voice, laced with confidence as he pushes his cock into your mouth.

Seb’s hand slips under you, rubbing your clit as your throat constricts around Mackie’s cock.

You feel yourself ridiculously close already and your legs are shaking as they struggle to hold you up as Seb pushes you close to the edge. You can’t ask Tom permission with your mouth full so you squeeze your eyes shut, praying they don’t push you over the edge.

You’re whining against his cock, spit dripping down your chin and he laughs, you cry as he pulls out of you, his finger running through the drool before fucking it back into your mouth.

“Do you have something to ask Tom?”

“Can I come?” It comes out garbled and messy with Mackie’s fingers still in your mouth.

“You can come as much as you want tonight pretty girl, it’s all about you.”

You cry out as your cunt clenches down on Seb’s cock, his thumb flicking your clit as you come.

“Thank you,” you whimper around Mackie’s fingers before he pulls them out, shoving his cock right back in.

There’s no fight or struggle between Seb and Mackie, while one fucks you down on their cock, the other pulls you almost clean off, leaving one end of you positively full while the other is close to empty. They’ve definitely done this before is your only thought as you come again, unexpectedly just because your throat is constricting around Mackie’s cock and Seb told you how pretty your pussy looked stretched around his cock.

Each whimper against his cock sends a shiver down Mackie’s spine and causes your cunt to clench around Seb, which only spurs him on further, fucking into you with abandon.

You would sometimes catch yourself asking Tom for permission to come, voice muffled and absolutely pathetic around their cocks, it didn’t even sound like English as you attempted to speak.

Mackie would force out a laugh between moans which would have you close to tears as you came.

You knew they were both close as their words became fewer and fewer and the room was filled with grunts from Mackie and softer groans from Sebastian. You tried to look at Tom but Mackie’s hips and your hair got in the way.

“You going to let them come in you? Or come all over your face and ass? What do you say pretty girl?” Tom asks and you whine as your lips are pulled off Mackie’s cock.

“Come on me, please come all over me,” you whimper, fucking yourself back on Seb’s cock as you stare up at Mackie, lips wet and shiny with your spit, pouting as he jerks himself off.

You feel Seb twitch inside of you before pulling out and coming over your ass and back with a moan of your name.

Mackie grunts as Seb runs a thumb through his come, using it to rub your clit and make you come one more time.

You slip your eyes shut as he comes all over your face, hand gripping the back of your neck to keep you upright.

You whimper as he comes down, fingers running through the come on your face as Seb uses his fingers to run through your slick and dripping folds.

You watch Tom out of the corner of your eye, hand speeding up on his cock. The moment Mackie pushes two come covered fingers into your mouth and Seb pushes two into your pussy Tom comes, all over his stomach and hand with a long drawn out moan of your name.

“You okay pretty girl?” He asks as you come one last time around Seb’s fingers, legs and arms shaking from exertion.

You nod, smiling, practically fucking beaming, you felt fantastic, your limbs were on fire but you had come so many times you lost track, and the comforting hand on your hip and one on your jaw were the only things keeping you upright.

“Did so good baby girl,” you hear Mackie say as your eyes slip shut, focusing on the fingers in your mouth, sucking them like you did his cock.

“Fucking fantastic,” Seb agreed from behind you. You hear shuffling around and the warmth of a wet washcloth against your back and ass, cleaning you off. You whine as Mackie slips his fingers out of your mouth and you feel the sensation of the washcloth on your face, wiping that clean as well. Their hands slowly massage your shoulders, your hips, your thighs.

“Come on pretty girl, let’s say goodbye so we can take a bath,” you hear Tom say and you hum happily, opening your eyes as strong hands help you sit up.

Your arms use what little strength they have to wrap around Mackie’s shoulders, pulling him into a kiss, the first kiss you’ve given him tonight. His lips are tougher than Seb or Tom’s, taking you, taking all of you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth as his hand not so gently smacks your ass, causing you to moan into his mouth. His light stubble also feels fucking fantastic against your cheeks before you pull away, smiling at him before strong hands on your hips turn you around, bringing you face to face with Seb as Mackie slips off the bed.

“This was fun,” he smiles and you nod, feeling heat rise to your cheeks before you kiss him, slower and longer than Mackie, only using your tongue at the last moment to gently swipe at his lips before you pull back.

“Bye boys,” you giggle as they slowly get dressed and Tom holds his hand out. You cuddle into Tom’s side as they get dressed, exchanging another look with Tom, then Seb gives you a soft smile and Mackie a smirk before leaving.

“Was that okay?” Tom asks, fingers running along your bare sides as you walk to the bathroom.

“More than okay,” you nod, smiling at Tom as he starts the bath.

“You’re all mine again, and I yours,” he smiles, running his fingers through his hair before you pull him towards you, kissing him as your hands slip onto his shoulders.

You pull back, resting your forehead against his, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

#sebastian stan #anthony mackie #tom holland #tom holland smut #sebastian stan smut #anthony mackie smut #alice thirsts #whew boy #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland reader insert #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x anthony mackie x seb stan x reader #anthony mackie x reader smut #sebastian stan x reader smut #foursome???#tom holland x y/n

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missorgana · 4 years

Text

coffee with an old friend

pairing: finn/poe dameron, background rey/rose tico

fandom: star wars (sequel trilogy)

rating: teen and up

word count: 6420

warning: swearing

summary: This gap year was supposed to be uneventful. Free of stumbling into his childhood friend slash man of his dreams, at least, but it seems like Finn's waking up to a surprise every day now. (coffee shop au + childhood friends)

(after being stuck on this in 3 months, i’m back!! i’m not too happy with the ending tbh but,, i just want it done and i miss them a lot. this isn’t beta read so all mistakes are my own! really hope you all enjoy this!!)

read on ao3

Finn’s missed London.

He only landed a week ago, but the memories from his childhood are already creeping back into his mind.

He still knows these streets like the palm of his hand.

As much Finn loves California, it can’t really compare, now, standing in the misty afternoon, the rush of the stores very much going despite the weather.

It almost seems quiet now, upon his return. The fact that he thought this was crowded as a child is incredible.

He’s missed the kindness, as well as the blunt honesty of the British.

And, surprisingly, the smell of rain’s missed too.

It’s almost comforting.

Finn knows he can’t stand in the rain forever, though, and if there’s something London never gets enough of, it’s coffee shops.

So it’s only a five minute walk before he spots one, which he, oddly enough, doesn’t remember seeing here before. Must be newly opened.

And there’s plenty of tables available once Finn’s inside, only residents are people looking around his age, occupying their laptops with cappuccinos on the side.

And, figuring he’ll go for the usual ice latte, the queue it is. It’s only consisting of one person, really, so Finn’s not sure he can call it that.

Regardless, when it’s his turn, he quickly forgets that thought.

Because a man he hasn’t seen in years in standing behind the counter.

Finn’s mind goes back to video games and model planes and caramel apples and it’s almost as if he’s ten years old again.

Poe fucking Dameron.

He’s changed, so very much, but Finn’s a hundred percent certain it’s him.

The curly haired man in front of him takes a minute to register what’s happening, so he’s probably just as surprised as Finn himself.

His face morphs from cluelessness to a slightly open mouth to a smile that slowly grows.

“Poe?”

“Finn! Buddy!”

And Finn really can’t think about how that old pet name makes his stomach feel right now, cause a woman with a slightly loud child, standing behind him, tells him to “Hurry up, already!”

So, naturally, Finn apologizes while getting his order out. Poe looks disappointed.

Cut to two minutes later where his coffee is called, by another barista, cause Poe’s seemingly busy, and Finn shouldn’t instantly feel sad about that, but he does.

That is, until he notices the scribbles on the cup saying, I’m off in an hour and a half. Wait for me?

Finn should be looking for a job right now. Should let his parents know he’s back in town, they’ll probably give him a three course meal and convince him to stay forever.

But despite not having seen the man for four years, he still can’t say no to Poe Dameron. Damn him.

Which is why Finn sticks around, shuffling his playlists and texting Rey for a bit.

She’ll surely freak out when she hears about this.

He should really tell her, but he spots Poe getting rid of the apron and Finn figures he’ll call her in the evening.

The older man, only by two years, he reminds himself, sits down across from him.

Finn wants to stand up for a hug, but doesn’t.

He wants to hold the hand that’s placed on the table, but doesn’t.

Regardless, Poe looks beyond excited. He’s grown a scruffy beard, and it’s funny to see the long curls again.

Finn nearly cried when he had shaved it all off for the army, but his old friend doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, man. Hey, I- well. When did you get back in town, buddy?” and his voice is a tad hoarse, but warm, and Finn’s stomach starts doing loops on itself from hearing it again.

He can’t really deny it, can he?

Ever since the sleepover the two had with Rey, when they were ten and Poe twelve, Finn’s had this feeling.

This feeling when the boy grabbed his hand and told him his parents could take them to Comic Con, and Finn’s young mind didn’t get it, then, but he did when he turned fourteen.

Sixteen year old Poe texted him a little past midnight and asked if he could come over, which is far from unusual for them, and the golden boy laid in his bean bag, concentrating hard on the ceiling, only to shift his gaze to Finn and tell him, “I think I’m gay.”

Two days later, Finn asked his mum what the difference between liking a girl and a boy is, and she smiled that knowing smile of hers, “Well, depends on the boy and the girl.”

And he can’t really claim he’s surprised that his childhood crush washes over him in full force, after only a couple of hours worth of reunion.

Fucking hell.

All the time he spent crying over Poe leaving for the military makes him feel utterly stupid.

He feels utterly stupid sitting here, across from the man he’s been in love with since his early teens, who is just as, if not more, beautiful as he was four years ago, can he just stop?

“A week ago.” Finn tells the older man, coughing as a way of possibly restraining the thoughts going through his head, about his friends’ hands, that must be unhealthy, “More importantly, when did you get back?”

And Poe turns his eyes to the table in a soft laugh, proceeding to rest his chin on his hands before replying, “A year ago, more or less.”

“You- what? Why didn’t I hear about this?” Finn asks, and immediately regrets.

He can’t say it’s not completely on him for their loss of contact.

Poe’s number’s still saved on his phone, no doubt, which has caused him many late night considerations of a confession call, just for the hell of it.

But, well, his friend became less frequent, too. Which is understandable, because he was a pilot in the fucking military.

Finn feels bad, and somehow Poe realises this, cause he grabs his hand over the table, “If you’re about to apologise for losing contact, save it, okay? Things like that happen, I don’t blame you.”

And now they’re holding hands, and god, stop it already, before Finn does something stupid, like kissing the man across from him.

Soon enough, Poe retracts his hand, without seeming fazed.

The phone pings for twentieth time, and Finn apologises, “It’s Rey.”

“Oh my god!” the other man exclaims, “How is she?”

And Finn has to smile, there’s so many updates from their lives, and he swears this fuzzy feeling he’s having needs to leave.

They’ve always been friends. Best friends.

The only thing in his entire life Finn haven’t told Poe about is this, something Rey’s encouraged him to do numerous times.

And maybe he should’ve, but he always thought his best friend too good for him, and even if he didn’t, the thought of getting rejected always kicked in when he was close to coming clean.

But what’s the point of it now?

Poe probably has a gorgeous, strong, strategic, interesting veteran boyfriend waiting for him at home.

If there was no chance when they were teenagers attached at the hip, how would there be any now?

“She’s great!” Finn finally tells him, storing all the emotions in the back of his mind for later, “Still in Paris, but she swore to me yesterday that she would book a flight now that I’m back.”

“Hold her to that. A reunion’s just what I need, buddy. My friends from the army are awesome, but I can’t help comparing them to you two, you know?”

Finn really hopes he isn’t blushing, but he’s feeling embarrassed, and warm.

Maybe he should feel bad about being satisfied about this, but he’s relieved, because Poe hasn’t replaced him. Or Rey. He never believed he would, but the fear was always present.

What Finn expects to be yet another text from the last member of their trio turns out to be one from his mum, and yeah, he should probably get going before she comes and gets him herself.

He doesn’t really want this to end. Let him reside in this blissful warmth, pretend his childhood crush’s actually returns his feelings, or something, okay?

“Sorry, Poe, it’s uh- it’s my mum,” Finn tells his friend with a chuckle, “I wanna catch up, but my mum also wanna catch up, so...”

“Of course! Don’t worry, buddy,” he tells him, and Finn takes a small happiness in the disappointed look Poe’s trying to hide, “You still have my number, right?”

And he doesn’t know if he should be embarrassed or hopeful right now, but Finn nods and his friend brightens up.

“Perfect. Still need to show you my pictures! Got loads of my plane- or well, the one I was assigned to…” Poe stumbles a bit on his words.

He’s always been confident, at least that’s how Finn always saw him as, smiles that may go to the cocky side after a couple drinks, hands rubbing his friends’ back when they’re nervous, this courage to always say what he means, even when it’s frowned upon.

Especially when it’s frowned upon.

But of course Finn, and Rey, saw the rare moments aside from that. The soft, the sad, the unknowing.

Before Poe Dameron announced his sexuality in the high school speaker system, he told Finn in the middle of the night, the light of his phone screen illuminating him, and a crack in his voice that he’ll deny if Finn ever brings it up.

“If you want to, that is!” the older man adds quickly, and Finn has to stop him with a nod, “Of course.”

And well, he can’t really postpone it anymore, which is why Finn stands up, and, because fuck it, goes in for a hug. Luckily, Poe seems just as willing.

He pats his older friend on the back a couple times for good measure, to distance himself from the way his stomach is clenching still.

And maybe, he hopes, it’ll stop affecting him the next time they meet. Maybe.

…

Today is Sunday.

In his childhood, this day always meant going to church, and well, as much as he respects his mother’s religion, he guesses he grew out of it.

Nowadays, Sunday is usually his assigned ‘do absolutely nothing day’, and has been since he turned sixteen.

Yet Finn somehow finds himself doing something. It’s tragic, really.

But Poe texted with the question of hey bud! you doing anything today?, followed by if you’re up for looking at pictures, you know. coffee on the house? ;), and he can’t exactly ignore Poe Dameron, can he?

After staring at the winky face emoticon for way longer than he should, like he hadn’t seen it a million times before, Finn decides to reply and make his way to where their reunion took place a week ago.

And boy, if he thought the coffee shop was empty then, it’s definitely void now.

Only two residents present, an old woman knitting, and a man possibly in his late thirties, typing away on a laptop like his life depends on it.

“Buddy!” Finn recognizes the exclaim, and gives his friend a wave.

And Poe is already sitting at a table, surprisingly.

A look to the counter reveals a blond barista, hair put up in two buns, apron sporting an abundance of colorful pins and, what he assumes is their business catchphrase, You can’t buy happiness, but you can buy coffee - and that’s pretty close.

Just like when they first reunited, Finn’s undivided attention is once again drawn to his childhood crush, smiling at him as if they hadn’t stopped calling each other for four years. Finn might as well have a permanent stomach ache by now.

“You’re off already?” he questions his friend, taking the seat across from him, where a iced latte was already placed for him.

That’s just a friendly gesture, right? Nothing more for Finn to overthink for the rest of his life.

Poe nods, “An hour ago. Kaydel needs some extra hours, anyway, so I’m getting off early.” and his curls bops as he gestures to the woman operating the coffee machines.

Today’s a bit warmer compared to the last time, Finn mentally notes. Perhaps their heating was broken before.

Not that he has time to freeze or sweat or anything similar when Poe’s in front of him, and Finn is absolutely embarrassed that his feelings are hitting him this hard.

After their first meeting three days ago, Finn called Rey, and of course, he can’t keep anything secret from her, so it was less than twenty minutes before she’d gotten the news out of him.

“Finn! You know what this means?!” she yelled to him, the surprised yelp sounding in the background, which he assumed belonged to her girlfriend, and, well.

Finn laughed to her, nervously, “That you’re coming back so we can have it like old times again?” and he could not help but think that Rey was rolling her eyes at him, all the way over in France.

He doesn’t doubt that Rey wants to see Poe again, but he also knows that she never let his childhood crush on their friend go.

“Well, duh,” she told him, then clicked her tongue, “Buuut now you can see him on a daily basis.”

And Finn had played dumb, don’t judge him, okay? That day was already a lot for his mind, and heart, to handle, so he needed a bit of distance from it all.

“Uh, I guess?”

“Finn.”

“What?”

“You still not going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?” he told her, with a smile creeping up, and he didn’t know how to interpret the laugh coming out of the speaker, but damn, he missed her.

Daily facetime and texting is great, of course, they never go a day without saying something to each other, at least once. But it’s been a year since he’s seen her in person, and she’s his best friend.

She was always the one who arranged the sleepovers in their school days, and Finn has to admit it, the study plan she made for him is immensely helpful. Rey has a way of being in control that Finn hasn’t mastered yet.

“You’re impossible.”

And honestly, he has to agree with her, cause now he’s drinking an iced latte, his heart beating a little too fast, while Poe shows him pictures. He tries hard not to think about which one, of the many people his friend tells him about, could be his boyfriend.

“So there’s Hux - that’s his last name, never would tell us his first name, weird guy - Jessika, Phasma, Snap, Zori and Kylo.” Poe’s listing names, pointing to the faces.

Finn can’t help but smile, watching Poe’s enthusiastic arm movement, looking at each photo with nostalgia, his voice smooth like honey.

He notices his leg jumping up and down, that’s always a thing he does when he’s excited and it used to drive Rey insane. Finn doesn’t mind it.

“Of course you don’t mind.” She would tell him, whenever he took Poe’s side in the argument about whether or not it was annoying, and each time he would desperately hide his blush, giving Rey an intense look until she laughed at him.

Finn knows she’d never say.

They’ve joked about it, they really have, but she would never betray his trust like that. They pinkie promised, anyway, so if Rey did let it slip, she’ll hear for it til the end of eternity.

Finn knows the reminiscing smile on Poe’s face, and he has to clear his throat to not let his thoughts drag him to overthinking all this, “I bet you miss them, now.”

Poe nods. “I do.”

He then shrugs, and Finn hasn’t given up on reading his friend, but it sure is getting harder.

“But also, spending every waking moment with the same group of people is well,” he laughs at himself, “It can put anyone on edge sometimes, you know? Especially cause there’s no way to be alone. Not really.”

All Finn can do is nod in silent agreement.

He can’t imagine how that must be. Hell, he thought a dorm room would be the worst living situation possible, before he headed to America.

And because those words touch him in an unexplainable way, and because Finn can’t ever keep his damn mouth shut can he, he lets the question, “Did you miss me?” out into their comfortable silence.

Finn’s curses himself immediately.

The dreamy man in front of him looks up with a smile, again, this smile that’s soft but also utterly charming. And now he’s biting his lip, and well, Finn doesn’t know how to interpret any of this.

Poe takes his hand across the table, but turns it so his knuckles are resting in his friend’s palm. “Goes without saying, buddy.”

And how in the world is this happening, how are they holding hands, again?

Finn cannot possibly say he hasn’t experience this kind of affection from Poe before, because, well, he has. Poe loved holding his hand, Rey’s too.

And he could never tell whether his friend was making it harder for him, or, if this touch was what Finn craved from him, even if they could never actually be a thing, then, at least, he’ll have this.

Honestly, it’s return is more or less making him unsure of how to breathe.

Unlike their previous meeting, Poe doesn’t draw back his hand immediately, maybe only a few seconds later, and Finn wishes he didn’t count the seconds, but he did.

Surely, Poe must be noticing his nerves? Or maybe, possibly, he thinks this is Finn’s natural state, around everyone.

He wishes he knew, and he knows he should be telling him then, like Rey says, but boy, it’s terrifying, the thought of just telling him about his seemingly forever lasting crush on his childhood friend after randomly stumbling upon him and barely knowing about his life now.

Finn must be deemed to suffer, he thinks. If his feelings haven’t faded away now, he has this nagging fear, that, maybe, it never will.

And he may have confessed his thoughts about Poe to Rey, but what he hasn’t told her about is the Valentine’s Day letter he may or may not have written and slipped into his best friend’s locker.

Yeah, it’s, just, listen, okay?

It was short and sweet, or at least, he liked to think that. His fifteen year old self had sat up till a way too late hour to finish it.

Guess you can say it wasn’t really a letter, because Finn liked music, and for a long time, he’s expressed himself easier way that way. So he may have put a list of songs that made him think of his friend. Is that cheesy?

Finn would be lying if he said he could clearly remember which he put down, it’s been so long, and truth be told, he might’ve desperately tried to wipe that memory, anyway.

He signed off as a ‘secret admirer’, obviously, because he’s read those romantic teen novels, and there’s no way he had… the guts? The bravery? He doesn’t really know, Finn just knew he would die if Poe knew it was him.

Rey’s said before he tends to exaggerate, but whatever.

And you might say, he made a move, right? Thing is, well, when Poe found it, he was over the moon. So, of course, he interrogated virtually every guy he knew. Except Finn, of course.

The reason why he is trying, so hard, to forget this tiny glimpse of hope is because someone took the honor for it. Yep, a real blow to his confidence, to be honest.

So Poe had a boyfriend for a while, which made Finn lose his mind even more, if that’s even possible. The relationship didn’t last long, though.

Lucky for Finn, Rey excitedly exclaimed at the time, except Finn still didn’t act.

He swears, he almost did, biking around the neighbourhood on a Sunday evening with nothing better to do, when Poe looked more beat down than he’s ever seen his friend before.

Apparently, whatever his name was, Finn genuinely doesn’t remember and it’s like it matters, really… anyway, this guy eventually confessed the letter wasn’t from him.

So this evening was one of only a handful occasions where Finn did most of the talking.

And he just couldn’t bear the older boy being quiet, so he shoved his feelings down for what felt like the millionth time and told him bad jokes until the smile he knew so well resurfaced.

It always does. He wishes Poe would smile forever.

Besides, even though this guy was a douche, at least to Finn, he wasn’t Poe’s best friend since before puberty. And that sealed the deal for him to never to do anything, no matter how many times their stubborn friend tells him it’s stupid.

God, are unrequited feelings always this painful? It’s the only one he’s ever had, to be fair.

Finally, after what seems like more than four years, the hand leaves his, and it’s flickering through the photographs again, delicately, and with so much care.

But he can’t help looking at Poe’s face, reminding himself of every feature he memorized so long ago, like his brain’s telling me they’re going to be pushed apart once more.

And Finn wills his friend to look at him, and he does. He always does, really.

And he wishes to know what’s going on in Poe’s head, and for all that is good hopes he doesn’t realise what’s going on in his own.

…

Rey is coming home.

Well, she’s going to visit, she said. Obviously, she’s still got her degree and work in France, and the apartment, it’s not like Finn’s expecting her to move back.

That would be kind of nice, in theory, wouldn’t it?

In the course of, Jesus, almost two months now, things have been pushing Finn out of his new routine, things that were once part of it

He’s moved back into his parents’ basement, and honestly, this gap year was supposed to be relatively uneventful, it really was.

Free of stumbling into his childhood friend slash man of his dreams, at least, but it seems like he’s waking up to a surprise every day now.

Finn really can’t deny that Poe’s stressing him out. And making him nervous. Maybe a bit giddy, shut up.

His stomach aches every time he sees him, and it's always in the coffee shop, so sometimes, Finn allows himself to imagine them as dates because he's pining, okay?

It’s this constant reminder that Poe, well, he just exists in the same space right now, and his stupid texts with winky faces, and maybe, he’s drinking too much coffee now, too.

Poe’s always got his order ready now, and this act has a domestic tone to it that Finn’s not really willing himself to think anymore about.

He always thought he was missing something, as stupid and cheesy as it sounds.

It’s his dream school, of course, and his friends are wonderful, and his ex-girlfriend, still very good friend, Jannah, is close to his heart, too.

But Poe just fits, you know? And Rey too.

Growing up, he had many worries in his life, but at the end of the day, he always knew he could fall back on the two.

It’s like when he got drunk for the first time and his two friends were there with their overly caring, which he really can’t blame them for, because when it happened to Rey, he was there, too, obviously.

It goes without saying.

And Poe always squeezes on his heart, just a tiny, tiny bit every time he sees him, and it’s just a daunting realization that his friend may never know what he’s doing to him.

But Rey’s arriving today.

She called Finn before boarding, a conversation that went a little overtime and might consist of her almost begging him to just take his shot, as she said.

Her girlfriend’s coming too, and weirdly, this is both Poe and Finn’s first time ever meeting Rose.

Oh, in Rey and Finn’s more than weekly facetime he’s talked to her numerous times, but it’s not really the same, he thinks. It’s different being in the same room.

That’s what he learnt from these encounters with Poe, anyway.

And said man once again has invited Finn to coffee before they pick up the girls at the airport. He’s not even working today, good Lord.

So maybe, Finn’s been at Poe’s flat one time. It was just last week, actually.

It’s a small, humble one, and it just works for Poe, like, screams it in the wall art and the model plane he got on his fourteenth birthday that he’s, somehow, managed to keep intact all these years.

It’s the first thing Finn mentions, and his friend’s jokingly grumpy look when he laughs is just so endearing.

And that just took him back to their teenage hangouts, more than anything.

Poe wanted to show him more pictures, and boy, he had plenty of cardboard boxes piled up in a corner containing just that.

And it turned out, not only military time photographs, but old photo albums from before they were split up. A lot of them. The fact that Poe’s kept all of this jumbles up Finn’s insides, and his brain, to be honest.

“Welcome to the corner of shame.” he had said, with that deadpan expression he thinks is sort of menacing, like he’s about to tell a scary story, but honestly, it’s hard to take that serious.

Finn doesn’t say that, because despite them both making fun of each other loads of times, in this moment, it just makes him nostalgic.

If Rey were here, she would probably call him a loser or something, and Poe would stick out his tongue at her, because he’s not that great at comebacks, really.

He might be a bit infamous for starting conversation, arguments, whatever you call it, and not knowing how to finish them.

The fact that Finn finds even that endearing about him, well, he’s long gone.

But he’s known for years, because his other best friend loves to remind him.

Trust Finn when he says this, he’s seen every single photograph Poe owns, and that’s really the main reason they went to the flat, because there’s no humanly possible way he could carry all these to the coffee shop, but they ended up with a movie night because… yeah.

He would’ve stayed over, except that’s just about too much teenage sleepover memories for Finn to handle.

He also noticed the flat to be empty of other residents, except Poe’s dog, who instantly loved him, and his friend knows Finn will get close to tears near absolutely any dog, so. The postbox had only Dameron on it, too, not that he deliberately read on it, or anything.

But whatever, he’s sure Poe must have a boyfriend, somewhere. How could he not?

Perhaps he’s biased, but Finn’s sure there’s no aspect of his best friend that’s not lovable.

And the thing is, Poe’s confident, except when he’s not, like when he ended it with that guy who took the credit for Finn’s work, and for some reason, he started finding flaws to himself.

Listening to it clenched Finn’s heart in a different way than when his friend smiled at him, this was the sort of thing that made him want to curse the world, and that stupid guy, and prove Poe wrong in all this internalised criticism he has put on himself.

Regardless, Finn’s in the coffee shop, iced latte as usual, Poe’s drinking black coffee because he’s weird, and the conversation’s just swarming around being excited about the last part of their trio being on her way.

“You’ve talked to her girlfriend before, right?” Poe asks, biting his lip like he’s about to meet his partner’s parents, God, he is so likeable, why doesn’t he think that himself? Finn should remind him more often.

“Yeah,” he chuckles in his reply, “She’s so cool, honestly. Still weird to think of being in the same room as her. You know. Both of us existing.”

Finn shakes his head at himself, because he always does this with words, but Poe always smiles at him fondly, so even though it causes that familiar stomach ache, it’s worth it.

“I’ve missed this. You’re so deep.”

Their laughs are quiet and he has to say he feels like they’re meaningful. Or he doesn’t say it out loud, but you know what he means.

Thing is, Finn’s almost settled into this, like maybe he can see Poe again, everyday, and sure, he still feels just as strongly as before, but he’s learning to hide the nerves again.

Unfortunately, his best friend manages throw him out of the loop, once again.

Because suddenly Poe’s saying, “See this,” and Finn’s about to ask just how many photo albums he’s got laying around when what he pulls out is anything other than a photograph.

Remember that love letter Finn talked about before? It’s that damned thing Poe has in his hands now.

Firstly, it’s crumbled to oblivion, and he cannot believe his friend has it.

Can paper even, like, survive that long? Finn doesn’t really know.

He does know he feels like throwing up.

But he can’t really excuse himself, not only because this would blow this bottle up your feelings game Finn’s been playing for years now out of the water, but also, they’re supposed to be making their way to the airport soon.

Fuck. What is going on?

“You remember this?” his older friend inquires, turning the paper over in his hands, carefully, and honestly, it would probably return to dust if he didn’t.

How- Poe kept this stupid letter? Surely, Finn expected he’d have thrown it away, in a physical sense and in his mind, after that first breakup.

And Finn nods, swallowing the lump in his throat while the man in front of him continues, “It’s- I kept it in my jacket, even when I was the army.”

Finn knows exactly which jacket, because it’s also one probably too worn out but still being kept alive, multiple patches and stitches for as long as he can remember, “You did?”

It’s a small “Yeah,” he gets as a reply, and well, you already know how his smile makes Finn feel, “You know, I never found out who wrote it.”

And he just can’t reply, because Poe looks like he’s reminiscing, and Finn just wants this to be over. Can almost hear Rey’s encouraging, tired voice in the back of his mind.

“Sorry.” his friend then says, after the shortest silence, already folding the paper back together. Finn still can’t remember the songs, or if he wrote anything else.

Poe glances at the clock and mutters “shit” under his breath, and suddenly, the letter is put in his pocket where it came from, and whatever this moment was is over as quickly as it started.

And his friend gulps down the rest of his coffee in one go, yuck, and he rushes, and stresses, and Finn’s struggling to keep up.

Poe’s still got his hand in his pocket. That’s extremely inconvenient, especially with his bag, why is he doing this?

Finn wants to know just what his friend was thinking about when he brought that letter to light, because, well, God, it must mean something to him if he kept all this time.

It has to, right? What’s he supposed to do with this information?

And also, Finn doesn’t realise that he’s standing still until Poe’s voice sounds somehow a bit further away from him, it’s like he’s staring into nothing and not looking at his childhood best friend.

“What’s the matter?”

He zoned out, he’s zoning out.

It’s just- Finn doesn’t know what he’s trying to think of. All that’s going on in his head is Rey’s convinced mindset, telling him that Poe loves him, if that is platonic or romantic, it doesn’t matter.

He guesses Rey’s right. Maybe. That platonic only option is gonna hurt, though.

Poe’s coming closer again now, except it’s like Finn’s watching this going on outside his body, like a third person, or from above, maybe, and when his friend surely has to tell him they’re in a hurry again, it comes out of his mouth too choked up, too out of place and time for his liking, “I need to tell you something, Poe.”

And his older friend furrows his brow, of course, his stressful demeanor instead morphed to a frown of confusion, and despite of the world possibly crashing upon him this second, Finn continues, because fuck it, “I- I really hope you won’t look at me differently.”

Poe stands in silence for the shortest of the moments, mouth slightly agape, “Buddy, what are you talking about?”

Buddy. That should pretty much settle it, really. Their friendship will most likely put to the an end, or put in a hold, if he flees this.

At least Finn can tell Rey he tried. And say “I told you so,” might as well, now that he’s at it.

Which is why he squeezes his eyes shut for a second instead of looking at this man he knows so well, because well, he’s already distancing himself from everything right now, “It’s my letter, you know?”

And god, has the sound of traffic ever been so jarring.

Finn doesn’t even register the movement at first, he wonders where this is going, only he’s not the one moving, in fact every fiber of his being tenses up when Poe is suddenly as close to his face as they were in puberty.

The older man looks perpetually confused, honestly, Finn doesn’t blame him.

There’s a lot of blinking until, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” and you know Finn by now, his brain desperately tries to catch up to speed, throwing words out of his mouth in an unusual stutter, with no real meaning to the madness, luckily, Poe knows this stressed state of his, and a hand finds his shoulder.

It’s smoothing out his collar just a bit, his friend’s expression starting to change again, his eyes pleading to understand, “Finn, I need you to breathe.”

He does. They’re breathing the same air, always, he’s so acutely aware of it now than before.

Why has Poe even stopped him in explaining? He just needs to explain, despite there not being anything reasonable to say, because why does Finn feel the need to defend these feelings?

Maybe to soften inevitable blow, surely, Poe doesn’t even look fazed, actually, maybe he’s not shaken by it, that’s something.

“And I need you to tell me why Sweater Weather reminds you of me.”

“What?”

“Please?”

Oh, that comes back to him. Finn was far from prepared for a question like that, when a possible rejection was replaying until he might lose his mind.

He just shrugs, almost wanting to be outside his body so he can shove himself.

Why is Poe looking at him like that? It’s just that same smile. His eyes are soft now. His hand just gesturing a bit.

Finn recalls the feeling of hearing that song, but he’s not sure how to say it. It’s like, he can’t tell what his friend wants out of it. No matter what he says, it’ll probably be cheesy, but Finn was fifteen when he made the list, after all.

“I don’t know,” he says, shrugs again, they should probably be going, why is this lump in his throat getting bigger, “It’s like, when we were snowed in, when we watched Alien, you know? I freeze so easily, you know? And you make me warm.”

That’s what he wrote, the little note in the bottom. You make me warm. My heart beats too loud when you’re around. I wonder if you can hear it. I wonder if you know how easy it is to love you.

“I do?” and either Finn’s hallucinating right now, or Poe’s smiling even bigger.

“Yeah. It- it’s like home. I wished I could make you feel that way.”

Why not get everything out in the open now that they’re at it, huh. Poe’s looking at him, though. Like, really looking at him. There’s crinkles forming at his eyes, Finn wonders if they’ve always been there.

And his friend lets out a breath. What is going on-

“You think... would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Who the hell is Poe kidding, right now?

Finn doesn't if he wants to scream at the top of his lungs because this absurdity or because of this glee.

This year's really going way beyond his expectations already, and God forbid this moment ends, it seems way more like one of his daydreams than reality.

"You want to kiss me?" Finn asks, because it's hard to believe. It's almost like he should be banging his head against a wall for hiding this for so long.

Not that he knows if Poe's, well, wanted to kiss as long as he's wanted to kiss him.

"Buddy." he says, of course he says that, but now it's almost morphed into a new meaning, one where the classic, wonderous Poe smile is a smile of adoration, like a feeling that Finn might have overlooked it all the years they've known each other, for some reason, one that gives him goosebumps.

"Of course I do. That's the feeling I've never told you about. You make me feel that without even trying."

Well, of course Finn nods, of course, he cannot do anything else than believe him, because this is what, finally, eases his stomach and releases the chokehold on his breath.

This is what makes him study Poe's face and think to himself, is this how he looks when he looks at his friend?

It's like, the world's revolving around Poe, at this moment. To hell with it if that's already been said a million times before, Finn's saying it now.

Maybe Rey was right, not that he'll admit that to her today. Oh fuck, they should probably, actually, get going, shouldn't they?

He isn't eager to break this news to Poe, though, what with his chapped lips on his, and a warmth spreading from his cheeks all the way to his toes.

The buzzing of his phone can wait for another minute, right?

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