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shouldershimmycity · 2 years

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Resurrection Pt. 1 (Rooster x Reader)

*rubs hands together* I'm back with the angst, get ready to cry with me.

Resurrection

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

*****

The past two years of your life have been miserable. While recovering from an accident that left you scarred and traumatized, you get called back to Fightertown, USA to co-instruct a mission; despite having been honorably discharged. You thought it would be simple, until a certain Lieutenant starts to bring you back to life.

TW: Mentions of scars, depression, anxiety, accidents.

*****

The wind felt pleasant in the hot San Diego air, albeit a little wet. Being on the water was refreshing, and you needed it. Seagulls screamed, wheeling up and around through the sky. One gave you cause to smirk after it stole a sandwich right out of a woman's hand, to which she cried out in both surprise and indignation. Several other birds were happy about the outcome, as they attacked the sandwich.

“Dogfight,” your chest shook with a small chuckle, finger coming up to push your sunglasses up the bridge of your nose. The sun was beginning to set over the Pacific, turning the water into miles of reflective surface. Sighing, the realization came that eventually you’d have to make your way back inside. You had arrived before it got busy. It was quiet and that’s how you preferred it.

Despite the paperwork and the official notice of being discharged, you had been called back to Fightertown, USA. Given the nature of your retirement from the navy, you knew it wasn’t to fly. As a civilian, you had been called in to help teach the mission that was at the center of your recall to Top Gun. Having been briefed upon arrival, you knew exactly what was going on; and had also groaned when you found out who your co-instructor was.

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell was the best and the worst. He knew his stuff, having a total of three confirmed air combat kills in his career so far, but he was… out of place when it came to teaching. The navy had recalled you, because after Maverick, there was your track record. Not once had you been shot down by your instructor, your wit too quick for whoever was against you. Whoever was on the receiving end of your guns would only have to blink and they’d be dead. You were always in front of them mentally, one step ahead. It’s what earned you the callsign Zippy.

Chanting on the inside of the Hard Deck caught your attention, but you were too comfortable to look behind you as the door opened.

“Oof!” An older man was tossed out into the sand, falling onto his side. He peered up at you sheepishly, and you decided to be social by giving him an awkward smile and stiff wave.

“Welcome,” the words came out slightly amused and sarcastically.

“Oh, thanks,” he huffed, clearly taking the piss out of whatever he did to end up out here with you; a small smirk gracing his face. You spied the patch on his jacket, labeling him as a Top Gun instructor. Making no show of being subtle you leaned in to read his name tag. Oh jeez.

“So,” you started, your tone amused, “you’re Maverick?” Grinning shamelessly back at the older man, reveling in your opportunity, you took a sip of your beer. He glanced at you slightly confused, but taking the hand you had extended to him to help him stand. Maverick began working on removing the sand from his legs and ass.

“You are?” he asked, drawing out the latter of the two words, returning your socially acceptable level of poking for someone he just now met.

“Zippy,” you introduced yourself, and you could read his mind right then and there. “Oh crap I just can’t win,” the thought wanted to make you laugh, but you decided not to deject the poor man any further.

“Oh, so you’re uh, you’re my c–” he worked through it outloud.

“Co-instructor yes,” you finished the sentence. He looked you up and down, but not in a way that suggested he was sizing you up or checking you out; more that he was assessing you as a person.

“You’re awfully young,” he said in surprise, and your shoulders came up to meet your neck in a shrug.

“I’m also retired but… I guess duty calls,” you reasoned with the older man, who was now furrowing his brow at your statement.

“Retired? Aren't you like, in your prime? Why so young?” he questioned, and you smiled tightly and nodded.

“That is for me to know and for you to mind your own business about,” smirking, you tipped your beer in his direction, and he put his hands up defensively, but good natured, “and on that note, I will see you tomorrow, sir.” Winking at him, the stairs creaked as you made your way to return from whence you came, the bar; which was now crowded with Top Gun graduates.

The piano was in use, as the riffs floated through the conversations between the best of the best. Civilians and military personnel alike began to crowd around whatever musical talent had wandered in on this lovely evening, and you plopped down in the corner just as Jerry Lee Lewis’ “Great Balls of Fire” filled the room. You thoroughly enjoyed the rasp of the man's voice who led pretty much everyone in the establishment, dancing in your own seat. His voice reminded you of lemonade, sweet but not altogether the smoothest; but a beautiful thing all the same. Looking out the window for what you intended to be a brief second, you saw Maverick staring through the window. His face was that of a pain you knew all too well. When one loses something that one can never get back once it is gone, and it hurt to see it. Then and there you realized that Maverick was an arrogant ass, but Pete Mitchell was someone who was lost, hurt, and slightly afraid. He turned away just as you moved to stand.

The song ended, and everyone in the bar went nothing short of ballistic. Shouting, cheering, and eventually chanting filled the room. The word Rooster is repeated like a mantra, and you came to the conclusion that it was a pilot who was on the piano. The jukebox’s plug was returned to its socket, and the crowd around the piano dispersed. That’s when you made eye contact with her.

“Zippy?” the question came out like the world was ending rather than that of simple surprise, and you could understand why. You hadn’t made any effort to get in touch with any of your squadron after you were honorably discharged, and the pit in your stomach gnawed with a feeling of intense regret at that fact. Phoenix quickly made her way over to you and you stood up out of your seat to receive her.

“Oh my GOD where have you been?! We all thought you were dead! You fell off the face of the earth!” Natasha Trace shook your shoulders, and you looked down at the ground awkwardly. Loving your friends was easy, but reaching out to them when you could barely tend to yourself was hard.

“I– I have no excuse, I had a pile of shit I got buried under and I couldn’t get out of it. I’m sorry,” your mouth turned down, and nothing sounded better in that moment than crawling in a hole and dying.

“You’re totally fine Zip, I’m just so glad you’re alive!” she glanced around at the men who had now made their way over, and stepped aside to give them a full view of the woman she had just lost her marbles over.

“Do you think I could pay someone to kill me right here and now?” the thought flatly filled your head, and you couldn’t help grimacing at the faces before you.

“Zip, this is Bob, Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback, and Rooster,” she went through the introductions quickly, pointing to each man as she did, labeling them for you to follow.

Your gaze lingered on the last of the men, who was dressed very differently to the rest of them. His sunglasses hung on a white tank, which was layered with a Hawaiian shirt. He had a friendly face, and a mustache that worked for him. Hazel eyes stared at you, warm and inviting, and you took note of the scars all over his face. Your face burned at the realization that you had been staring too long, and you broke eye contact with him. Rooster had been making his own assessment of you as well, noting your own scar.

“At least his didn’t run from the middle of his forehead down to his neck.”

Despite the feeling of intrusion from your little staring contest, you felt a little better about the fact that you weren’t the only one here with an extra facial feature.

Everyone piped up to say welcome in some form, and the man in front of you who resembled a Ken doll stuck his hand out to you.

“Hangman,” he said, a charming grin all but blinding you. You took his hand as a courtesy, and shook it firmly. Men like him were not unusual in the navy, especially in a gaggle of aviators, so you knew exactly what his game was.

“Zippy,” you offered, not impressed by the attempt to sweep the new girl off his feet with his charm. Turning back to Phoenix, you began to ask her how she'd been, and she was all too happy to catch you up on the details and introduce you to her new WSO. The conversation remained limited between the three of you, no one keen on approaching the woman who looked like she could kill you. It was almost funny to see you and Bob chatting away. It was easy to be social with him, as he was very blunt and he and Phoenix mostly steered the conversation. That’s when he hit a wall you were not super excited to tear down.

“So, can I ask what’s up with the scar?” he questioned, and Phoenix stared at him as if he just pulled a knife out of his pocket.

“Bob I don–” she began, looking in your direction as if to apologize. You sighed, but put your hand up to brush it off.

“Flying accident, ended up getting me discharged,” you provided, “wasn’t the best thing to happen, but it also wasn’t my doing. Faulty equipment will do that to you.” You smiled politely, and asked Bob about Lamoore to get him off the topic. Looking in the reflection of the window, you saw Rooster sitting behind you on a stool. He appeared to be watching Hangman kick Fanboy’s ass at pool, but you noticed every now and again he would look over at you. It didn’t bother you, ever since it happened people usually gave you the same shit. Staring, gaping, hiding their children behind them. It didn’t make you feel too appreciated, so you had grown quite hard under the pressure of solitude; and that had isolated you further. In a way you were glad you had run into Phoenix, maybe it would give you another fighting chance to start new.

“So, what are you doing here?” Phoenix finally asked, “I mean, you’re discharged so you can’t fly right? What brings you out here?”

“I’m actually helping instruct the mission for you guys,” you confessed, and Phoenix appeared hopeful.

“Do you know who our instructor is?” she asked.

The truth is, you were told not to say anything. Cyclone and Warlock knew you were of the younger generation, and they didn’t want anyone running for the hills upon hearing of one Pete Mitchell in residence for the purpose of instruction.

“I do, but I’m under orders not to say,” you stated, and Phoenix nodded in understanding. Bob and Phoenix began to debate what was going on and you zoned out, the wall behind them becoming your new fascination. Socialization had become such a rarity in your life that you were exhausted. You loved Natasha, you did, but it was a lot for you.

“Mind if I sit?” came the raspy voice you had heard earlier, the inherent sweetness of his tone bringing you into the here and now.

“No, seats open,” you gave Rooster the green light to fill the seat next to you. He smiled at you, and for the first time in a while you gave someone a true smile back. It was hard not to, the man was just so… warm.

“So where are you from?” he asked, finally after a few questions, curious about the woman sitting in front of him.

“Illinois,” you said, and you grinned again. It’s like you hit print two years ago and no smiles came out until just now. What was wrong with you? He nodded, trying to come up with more interesting questions for you. The way he was staring at you made a type of burning feeling grow in your chest.

“What’s your name?” you questioned him in return.

“Bradley,” he answered, “What’s yours?”

“You’ll have to wait and find out,” you teased, and he shook his head in surprise which made you laugh. Your face dropped into an expression of stunned silence, and Bradley looked over at Phoenix in slight alarm like he had broken you. You glanced around the room and began to sweat from anxiety.

“I’m gonna take off,” you mumbled, nodding a short farewell to Rooster and sliding off your chair. He began to object but you had already left. You didn’t look over your shoulder into the bar as you stepped into the warm air.

Becoming comfortable in bitterness and depression has been your safety net. You had disappeared from your last post after the accident, and never really talked to anyone else since. Your parents were no longer around, you had no siblings, and being a military brat your long distance family barely knew you. For two years you had felt like you were living behind a wall, with the rest of the world on the other side and it was unfair. You had been angry for months, and then depressed deeply. Why did I have to be grounded? Why me? Why did it happen? Why didn’t they check the damn equipment before they sent me up?

Negativity has never disappointed you from that moment on. You were never let down by being cynical, and pessimism never failed you. Not once had you cracked a genuine article of a smile since the accident, the scowl that usually sat on your face becoming almost permanent to match the scar.

Looking up at the light polluted sky, you asked yourself all of those questions again and more. Why did it have to be you? Why were you finally feeling again? And why did Bradley make you laugh? You just met the man. You wanted to scream. You didn’t know the answer, and that scared you more than anything.

#rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster #rooster top gun #topgunmaverick #top gun #top gun x reader

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stuntcons · 10 months

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i love boys who're girls who're golden children and scapegoats and are transgender in the most complicated but simplistic ways possible. i'm having a normal one today about motormaster. he's just a kid, but a weapon of mass destruction, but also a deadbeat dad of 4, and a parentified eldest child whose clueless and home alone with a stove-top only box of macaroni to feed his too young brothers. his favorite colour is purple, but it also isn't at all and he hates it with a passion, and everything is so confusing all the time but it makes sense at the same time.

he's on a one-way track for his dreamed of future, but also in the fast lane that leads to failing miserably. he loves being so big, but it sometimes never feels right; see, he likes being the biggest and heaviest for the heavier hits and being the main target so his brothers aren't targets, but also he wants to be fast and small and zippy like his brothers and participate in a race just once without the cars becoming disks underneath him.

do you think he's lonely? do you think he's trapped within the frame of the Perfect Decepticon; an ideal warrior who's ruthless in every way possible, a dream born of Megatron's insanities and Motormaster's desperation to please? how often do you think he looks at his own bloodied knuckles, and think this is wrong, i should be providing safety for them, not pain? how often do you think he dents his own walls and shatters his mirrors out of frustration born from seeing himself in the reflection and not seeing himself?

#motormaster #i'm so normal about him <is never normal about big black n purple trucks ever #panthrr.txt

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hannahssimblr · 4 months

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Chapter Thirteen

Jude slides into the seat across from me at the table of this brightly lit Turkish kebab place on Liffey Street. He’s only bought a bottle of Pepsi, while I’ve piled the table high with taco chips, lamb kebab, chicken goujons and a giant strawberry milkshake. I eye him as he twists open the cap of his drink.

“Wow, greedy.” I say.

He laughs. “Yeah you’re going to have to have me airlifted out of here. Can I’ve a chip?” He reaches out but I smack his hand away. “You’re doing that thing that boys always complain about, when girls don’t order enough food so they steal theirs.”

“Come on.” He says. “Just one, for God’s sake.” I relent and let him, but only one. I eye him suspiciously as he plucks it out of the box.

“Did you want to count it?” He teases. “To make sure I’ve not hidden another one in my hand?”

“Okay just shush for a minute.” I urge him. “I just really want to eat.” He signs and leans back in the seat, taking slow, leisurely sips of his pepsi while I tear at my food like some kind of feral beast. Nothing has ever tasted as delicious as this particular kebab, in this particular restaurant, even though the floors are sticky and there’s a drunk man snoring in the booth across from us thus creating an interesting ambience.

“Skipped dinner?” He queries after a few minutes of silence where he allows me to satiate myself.

“Mmm.” I say. “Didn’t have time to eat.” I grab a napkin and swipe it across my mouth, afraid that it’s as coated in sauce as my hands are. I try to get some small talk going to distract from what is probably an abominable sight for him. “So you ate at some Mexican restaurant earlier?”

“Yeah, we did.”

“Risky move, I’d say, bringing an American to a Mexican restaurant.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because everyone knows we can’t ever compete with the way they do it over there. Everyone’s always like ‘Oh you don’t know Mexican food until you go to the states’. Or whatever.”

“Or Mexico.” He supplies, and I grin.

“In case your memory has been lost to the sands of time, I did actually live my entire teenage life in Dublin. I was here for the inception of the burrito craze, but still, you’re right. It’s not the same.” He drums his fingers on the side of the plastic bottle. He’s still got some of that zippy, restless energy that he used to have, but not as intensely as before. I no longer get the sense that he might rocket out of his seat at any moment. “It was nice to see Shane and Claire again, they both look good.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah! Shane looks so much fitter than he ever did, he’s in great shape.”

“He’s been training a lot. He has to drive back home twice a week to train with the team, and even outside of that he’s in the gym the whole time.”

“Good for him.”

“Bit miserable though, you don’t think?”

He smirks. “Clearly you think so.”

“Well.” I begin, swallowing a huge mouthful of kebab. “He doesn’t really ever do anything fun. He gets barely any free time, and even at that his coach has all these strict rules about how much he’s allowed to drink and whatnot.”

“Alright Evie.” He says in a mock-condescending voice, but it makes me feel a little ashamed all the same. I never realised how easily unkind words spilled out of my mouth before, and it’s not even like I have a particular problem with Shane. But Jude is being nice, he goes on speaking before I start flailing around looking for an excuse for myself.

“I remember having to do that back when I was on my school rugby team.” He reminisces. “Funnily enough, another rule was abstinence.”

I glance up from my food. “Really?”

“They said that sex’d diminish our energy and testosterone and we’d end up playing a weak game, but…” He shrugs. “I don’t think it ever made a real difference. It was probably another one of those weird Catholic rules that your country is obsessed with.” I bristle a little bit against the way he says ‘your country’ like he’s divorced from it, like he hasn’t got our weird Catholic blood in his veins.

“So come on, Evie.” He says, leaning his elbows onto the table. “What’s been going on with you? I can’t believe it’s been so long since we spoke.”

“I know.” I say. “I guess we lost touch at one point there.” I slide my eyes up to meet his, not feeling as jovial as I had a minute ago, and his smile falters to become a little rueful. “Yeah, I regret that. Life got so busy for me so quickly after I moved, I guess it was kind of a whirlwind situation.” He touches his hair self consciously. “But I thought of you often, I always imagined that we might see each other again.”

“Ah well, here we are.” I say. “A year and a half later.” I watch his hand reach out to touch my arm but I swiftly move it out of the way to grab my milkshake so that his palm hits the table instead. He curls it slowly into a fist and pulls it back onto his lap. “You look really different.” He says. “You know, I always think of you with that really long hair.”

“Yeah I cut it all off.”

“ And are you still running? And swimming? Do you still do all of that?”

“No, actually, I don’t.” I say. “I suppose I fell out of the habit of it when I moved here, I don’t really do many of the things I used to do.” I’m different now, I’ve changed so much since we last spoke. I look different, I do different things, and I feel differently about him now than I did when I was seventeen. I have to keep repeating this in my head as he gives me the kind of familiar smile that threatens to wipe out the last nineteen months.

I stare at him unsmiling. “How’s things in Berlin? Better than they were here after all?”

“Really good. Hey.” A frown comes between his eyebrows and the corners of his pretty mouth turn downwards with concern. “Are you angry with me over losing touch?”

“Why’d you ask?”

“You’ve just gone so chilly all of a sudden, I don’t know.”

I pause for a moment. “It’d be a bit intense if I was still angry over something like that, wouldn’t it?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Well, good to know you got my email. It’s a pity it wasn’t worth responding to.”

He laughs with surprise, as though he was expecting me to act the way I used to act. Docile. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. I could have dealt with it better, but I was in a new city, and there were all of these new people. I left it sitting there too long and then, well, it felt like it’d be weird to respond after so much time.”

“Well, you know if you really wanted to you could have emailed me in a new thread.”

He arches his eyebrow “And equally, you could have sent the first message.”

I snap my mouth shut and pick through my food again, knowing that he’s right, but also knowing that I wouldn’t have been capable of doing something like that, double emailing him, like some kind of pathetic, desperate fool. The kind of pitiful low that I’d never have stooped to, not in front of him.

“You have a new piercing in your ear.” I say quietly after a few moments of silence, grasping at anything that will stop this conversation heading down a too-vulnerable path. He reaches up to fiddle with the third tiny hoop in his ear, this one on the left side, looped around his anti-helix.

“Yeah I figured that I already have a girl’s name and my dad thinks the other two piercings mean I’m gay so I might as well double down.” He grins. “I got it done when I went to Slovenia, actually. It was painful.”

“Little baby.” I tease. “I don’t remember mine being that bad, I got it done when I was like sixteen.”

His eyes go wide as he suddenly recalls. “I remember your piercings, you used to have four on one ear. Let me see.”

I turn my head to show him that they’re all gone now, nothing dangling from them but a simple set of gold hoops in my lobes. “I took them all out.” I admit. “They just didn’t feel like me anymore.”

“Damn, I always thought they were cool.” I almost remind him that nothing about me back then was cool, but then stop myself because I know now that language like that is a trap and he’ll only feel obligated to deny it.

“Any other surprises up your sleeve?” I ask him, and he quickly steals another chip. I don’t stop him, finally starting to feel human again.

“Funny you should ask.” He says as he chews on it. “I got this in Thailand.” He rolls up the left sleeve of his sweatshirt to show me the tattoo on the smooth inner skin of his forearm. It’s a mango on a stem with two leaves, done in simple black ink with this appealing, sketchy style. It looks a bit like something he might have drawn.

“Oh, nice.” I say. “Did you design it?”

“No, the woman in the tattoo parlour did. We were just passing by and I knew I had to get something done by her, like, I knew it was a kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

“Does it mean something special?”

He grins. “Nope, it’s just a nice drawing.”

“Fair enough.” I wonder what it’s like to be so nonchalant about something that’s going to be on your body for the rest of your life. It’s exactly the kind of free spirited thing that I wish I was capable of doing, but sometimes I have anxiety dreams that I’ve gotten a tattoo that I regret in a really prominent place like my face and for some reason nobody will laser it off for me. I take them as a sign that I’m not ready for anything so permanent. He picks at my chips again and I slide them towards him so he can tuck in with fervent enthusiasm, and while he eats I ask him about Thailand.

“I went May last year.” He says. “I always wanted to visit. So my friend Jonas and I decided to take off for a month while we had the chance and it was incredible. Seriously. I think everyone should go and experience it if they can.”

“Really? What was it like?”

“I can’t even do it justice by trying to describe it to you. C’mere.” He pats the seat next to him and pulls out his phone. “I’ll show you some pictures.”

I slide out of my seat and move in next to him, being very careful to leave enough room for Jesus between us in case our legs touch and sand of those dangerous feelings I used to have come flying back.

“No Blockia.” I comment.

“Hm?”

“Your old phone. It’s gone.”

“Yes.” He grins. “I couldn’t fight the future anymore, it just wasn’t practical, I needed Google Maps to get around.”

“They have torches built in now, did you know.”

He exhales a laugh and shakes his head. “Alright, well, let’s look at my holiday to Thailand, when you’re ready.” And he starts scrolling through photographs of the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, his phone screen becoming like a travel brochure with almost unrealistically spectacular vistas. Thailand looks like paradise, crystal blue waters and white sand, these huge rocks covered in lush vegetation jutting out of the sea and the sky awash with gold as the sun sets over a bay. “That was Railay Beach.” He narrates. “Jonas got food poisoning from a street vendor and was holed up in the hotel for two days so I just wandered around on my own.” Next he shows me photos of beach bars with thatch roofs, of intertwining roots of mangrove trees and of people selling shell necklaces under colourful tents. He’s taken a snap of a hand painted sign that says, in English: Beach This Way.

“You know, in a funny way, it kind of reminds me of the beach we stayed on.” I tell him. “Just something about the way those signs are painted, it’s like how it was at the Surf Shack.”

“Actually, I thought the same thing.” He says, and flicks to the next picture, which is him and a big, blonde German looking guy, presumably Jonas, standing in a little wooden boat holding a pair of oars. “Oh, this is when Jonas was better.”

“I like your hair band.” I say, snickering.

“Ha. Yeah, well, my hair was longer, I needed to keep it out of my eyes somehow.”

“Did you keep it?”

“The hairband? Why? Do you want it?”

“Oh yeah for sure, gimme. It’s so stylish.”

He laughs and flips through more, and tells me about them all, Phuket, Ko Samui, Phi Phi islands, and even Bangkok for a few days before they flew home again. In all of the photos he’s got that golden tan that I remember he used to have, summer coloured skin lost now to the winter, and he looks so free and easy and so happy, riding on a motorbike, lying in a canoe, shirtless on the beach and stretched out doing a goofy pose on a sun lounger, I find myself mesmerised by this depiction of his life, like he’s only ever having good days, only ever in gorgeous places, smiling, happy, and I let myself get sucked into the fantasy that a life like this is possible for me too until he scrolls too far and I have to look at a picture of him kissing his girlfriend. My stomach drops instantly.

“Oops. “ He says. “Went too far.”

I laugh awkwardly. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s okay.”

“That’s my girlfriend, Astrid.”

“She looks pretty.”

He nods in agreement. “She’s, yeah… she’s absolutely beautiful.” He quickly flips to another photo of her where she’s not locking lips with him and makes me look at her smiling face so that I can pretend I didn’t spend months cyber stalking her. I don’t really know what to say. “Yeah, wow, she’s something else.”

He stares down at the phone with this adoring expression on his face as though he’s the luckiest man alive and this feeling comes over me that I haven’t felt in a very long time. It’s the same way I felt when he rejected my misguided teenage attempts at seduction, and the same way I felt when I saw his face when he spoke to Michelle. It’s the feeling that I’m not what he wants. I’ll never be what he wants. The memory of it is too much and all over again I feel the stinging pain of knowing that I offered my love to someone who saw no worth in it.

I start gathering my empty milkshake cup and the greasy papers onto a tray to dump them into a nearby bin. “We should get going now.” I tell him. “I’m sure everyone else is waiting for us at the bar, and they’ll be closing soon.”

“Right.” He says, pushing himself upright and swiping salt from his black jeans. “Thank you for the chips, by the way. I wasn’t even that hungry but those things are like crack to me.”

“No problem. And I appreciate you coming with me to get food.”

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims4 storytelling #sims 4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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rekant-2 · 1 year

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new "brutalist" theme that makes it feel like im shouting at you. can't figure out how to make the follow button appear but i don't really care because i don't need new followers anyway

new chars list is here. important additions include:

drew: slice of cosmic horror. goes to support group. lives in the woods and hunts game. carries a vial of dirt in her pocket. shoots guns at the sky, probably. australian ex-pat (this is NOT a self insert). elizabeth debicki.

ruth: cranky old bitch (tolerates women. if you're a man in her general vicinity she'll stand on her porch and throw eggs at your car). one half of a mermaid entertainment duo that splintered, crumbled, crashed and burned in her youth. solo career never took off. perpetually bitter. hard around the edges to combat the humiliation of her solo gig and the miserable, miserable reality that followed. closeted lesbian.

koji & his (our) daughter akira from jw4. they run a hotel. i like them. you have to plot with them if you want to write them because koji isn't leaving japan.

send me a meme for somethin' zippy and voicetesty

#ooc.#you can follow back from ur followers page and if u want to follow first well thats too bad!#you cant really navigate it but you CAN read it. and thats really all that matters on this bitch of an earth

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lunarvalleysbetterplanet · 1 year

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i am so tired and lonely and miserable

i don't know how to be alone like this for much longer

it's already been so long, my whole life really

a few brief periods of friendship and what i thought was love amongst all the darkness

those moments are like splashes of light and happiness

i am a shell of myself

do i ever get to experience longing that's returned? do i ever get to feel wanted and desirable?

i'm 34 and alone and unwanted. i see the way people's eyes slide over me.

but i'm funny and witty. i will make you laugh and disguise my pain with zippy one liners. larger than life. always laughing.

dead on the inside. falling apart. so lonely it literally hurts inside my chest.

do i ever get to get better?

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brandonjg227 · 2 years

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They're too much.

Zippy and Wet Willy belong to Disney. Snow Miser and Heat Miser belong to Rankin/Bass.

#zippy #wet willy #zippy (character)#disney #disney channel #the miser brothers #miser brothers #heat miser #snow miser #the year without a santa claus #rankin bass #crossover #crossovers

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Text

Hates to, Hate you.

Word Count: 8k

Summary: Harry realizes that hurting Y/N broke him into pieces and tries to win her back with the confession of true feelings, will Y/N let him? If yes, how? How will he walk through fire for her?

Pairing: Famous!Harry x Reader!with anxiety.

AU: fake dating, slow burn, sexual tension, enemies to lover!

Warning: Mentions of violence, sexual assault, language, adult topics.

PART 1, MASTERLIST

"Please, stop." He says dolefully rubbing his eyebrows to get rid of the ache pounding in his head.

He's miserable. It hurts to not have her with him. It's been two tragic months of going through constant sleepless nights, disrestless stomach, intoxicating himself to forget her, staring at things like a hawk and missing her terribly.

He was alone before her and never felt this lonely.

He sees her everywhere. In his dreams and her shadows in his drawing room getting excited over a ceramic vase someone gifted him. Dancing in his kitchen to the beat of pink floyd and hip-checking him for a cheerful nudge, in his back garden rescuing a sparrow who broke it's neck and in his attic stressing over her assignments.

Everything reminds him of her. The fruity drinks that the barista's handing to the people, the fairy lights upon their heads and how she used to fond over them —- buying it for his bedroom too and when he refused to hang them, she just brushed off his snarky comment and did it herself.

The ring in Harris finger floods back all the bitter-sweet memories of the time he refused to have a lil fun with her, (Y/N and Harris made friendship rings and bracelets for eachother with the colorful beads to spend their boring time in his home waiting for him to write some lines before they went to a gumball shop) as they try to knock some senses in their friend's brain, "You tried to dodge a heartbreak and still ended up shattering your heart, yourself." They worry about him. That he's been bearing the pain all alone and not sharing it with anyone.

His voice croak-y and hoarse, "How's she?" The question haunts him. She blocked his phone number and even in the wee hours of night he wrecks his mind whether he should call her or not, he couldn't because she doesn't want to hear his voice.

He misses her voice. He misses her complaints and whines as if they filled the stoic parts of his life with happiness.

"How'd I know?" Harris lowers down to rest their elbows on the table, "I -- I thought . . she isn't in contact with ye'?" When Harris shakes their head with a gesture that he's being truthful it sinks his heart furthermore.

He clears his throat, twisting the jewels on his hand and sucks his bottom lip to muster some courage, "I've been seeing someone." Harris chokes on the boba they were chewing on for so long, "You what?" They are completely perturbed at his statement. Even though they've been working together and been friends before Y/N came in the picture, she's still their bezzy and we don't betray our bezzies like that.

"Yeah, someone to help me sort me feelings out." Harry frowns confusedly and then realization washes upon him so he becomes frantic in his chair, "No . . not what you're thinkin'." He runs his fingers through his hair to subside the twitch in them.

"A therapist, 'm talkin' bout a therapist . ." He sighs watching his tea waft down sympathetically.

"Oh. That's a good start, Harry!" Harris tries to bring the same dimply boyish smile that used to flutter over his lips whenever she used to tease him, unfortunately it never appears.

Y/N didn't handle her first ever heartbreak well. She lost her appetite, her focus on her studies and to her surprise didn't shed a single tear –-- it just kept piling in her chest and she waited for the moment it'd burst until she saw those pictures plastered all over social media. Pictures of him with some model that isn't a shorty pants like her at all, totally how those ladies described his type to be and someone with whom he wouldn't be embarrassed to hang out with.

She's everything, Y/N's jealous of. Those sparkling blue eyes compared to her boring brown ones, handsome figure and the radiance of richness.

Then she got stuck into her life responsibilities and worried about other things such that; she wasn't able to pay any bills and her flat's rent despite doing two part time jobs along with doing her class-fellows assignments in return of money and still got kicked out of it. Her close friend offered her to live in her studio and she has made it her kitchen, study, sleeping room with her stuff and clothes scattered everywhere.

She lives on noodles and toasted breads sometimes treating herself with delights of kit-kat bars in the middle of nights.

Watches her friend do her work and leave when the night comes by —- she has never felt this lonely in her entire life.

"So, was it love at first sight?" Nora her friend asks, handing her cuppa tea and a scone. Y/N let a weak sad smile slip, shaking her head and reminiscing all those moments where she was falling in love with him without even realizing, "Falling in love slowly patiently is the most beautiful . . . at some time I used to loathe his existence but staying with him and after knowing him, it was like --— an escapeless tunnel. I didn't realize it, till one day I woke up and my heart saw him in a different light, where I wanted to give him all me lovin' but he wasn't ready for it." She shrugs sipping the hot beverage and doesn't flinch from the burn that tingles at the tip of her tongue.

When she put her cup aside Nora takes her hand assuring her sweetly, "You'll have that person soon -- he's just on his way, with a big bouquet of roses and a teddy bear to give you the lovin' you deserve." Y/N giggles at that waving her off and not showing how her person is still Harry. What does she do to forget him? To fool her in thinking he isn't her first love.

"Aish, Nora aren't you gettin' late? Gooo." She had some clients to meet before she stopped here at studio to grab some things but it turned into a girlie hangout, "Take care honey and don't forget to put a bucket there." She points to the corner where water's dripping from the rooftop and Y/N exhaled an exasperated sigh of breath when the door clicks leaving her alone yet again.

It was past twelve and when usually she pulls an all nighter to study -- today she decided to sleep early. Her bad habit of overthinking kicks in again, this time it's not over some silly thing but she ponders over where she went wrong? She should've kept her feelings to herself and atleast would have been sleeping in her bed cuddled with her chonky cat Zippy.

She misses Zippy badly.

A noise of door unlocking loudly drags her from her reverie and her heart pounds against her ribcage ready to break it. Who could be at this hour of night? It could be Nora since she's the only one who got keys to the place.

Sitting up quickly she squints against the blinding lights and watches someone's boot stepping over her blanket that flopped onto the floor from the sofa she's sleeping on.

"Kevin? What are you doing here?" He's Nora's boyfriend and her classfellow. He just shrugs tumbling his way towards the sofa and she tries to scoot back from him as much as possible, "I'm here to see you. . ." He slurs. It knocks her breath out, filling terror in her veins as the heels of her feet rub against the leather of the couch in her effort to be away from him.

"What? This's not appropriate I -- I . . suggest you to call Nora s –- so, what're you doin —-" She squeaks in fear sinking into the couch when he towers over her and traps her under him with his hands on either side of her body aggressively, "I like you. Why don't you get it!!" She flinches when he shouts angrily with bloodshot eyes and the smell of alcohol disgusts her springing tears in her eyes.

"Please, stop . . ." She whispers with silent tears running down her throat using all her strength to push at his shoulders but he grips her hips tightly and yanks at her sleeping shirt revealing the strap of her bralette. She couldn't even cry for help. It's useless so putting some belief in herself for the last time she uses all her power and kicks him in his crotch pushing him roughly on the floor.

His nails tear at her delicate skin but she doesn't care before running out of the studio ignoring the names he's calling her from behind.

She runs away, away and away. Not thinking twice where she's going before crossing the bridges and tunnels. It feels like her ears are bleeding with the echo of loud horns of traffic and the hopelessness of her life makes her fall on her knees. She cries all the tears she was bottling up for months feeling like she's running out of time and reaching dangerously near to her end.

She's been in the same neighbourhood she's been before many times. The chilly wind doesn't prick goosebumps over her skin, the night's darkness doesn't scare her and the stray dog that's barking somewhere in far doesn't affect her at all as she stares at the door from where she has stepped into her comfort space many times.

Harry's with Scottie. His childhood friend who's here in London for some shoot. They were lounged in the living room talking their hearts out and their cringey memories from when they were small when he halted mid-talk, jaw slacking when his eyes took the sight of someone standing at his main door from the multiple security screens appearing on the telly.

He doesn't believe at first. Thinking he's hallucinating and that maybe he just saw a flicker of a ghost but when she looks up revealing her sad face and those big brown eyes he rushes to open the door.

"Fuck." He breathes out working on the heavy cold locks of the oak door with shaky hands anxiously and she was about to walk away with her back turned to him when he spurts out her name in haste, "Y/N." She listens to him. Insides breaking with the nirvana and scent of him surrounding her.

His breath hitches in his throat when she spins to meet his apprehensive gaze and she doesn't give him a chance to have a proper look at her before falling in his arms, her head hitting his chest and body shaking vigorously as she sobs sadly.

"Darlin'?" He asks worriedly, slipping his arms around her shoulders to lull her in his embrace, "Are you oka?" He feels like his stomach ate his heart as he anticipates an explanation from her and she isn't doing anything but crying.

"You're scarin' me, pet. What happened honey?" He pulls away to cradle her face in his calloused palms. His chests pangs with hurt and remorse upon seeing her tear stained cheeks, wobbly blue lips, and disheveled state.

He steps inside with her still in his arms and rubs his hand down her spine to calm her down as little sad sniffles and hiccups keep slipping out of her mouth.

He sits her on the sofa squatting down infront of her and Scottie brings her water. When she refuses to drink it because Harry strokes his thumb against the apple of her cheek, "Shh, 's okay . . you're okay. You're with me now, sweet girl." It's like the world and anything else has blurred around him and his ever priority's focusing on her only. His observant gaze dawdles from her face to her bruised shoulder emitting an afflicted gasp of trepidity from between his lips and it deepens to a growl when it fell over her hip-bone where the fabric of her pyjama's spotted with blood.

He glances up at Scottie who gives him a knowing look of horror. He gets closer to her and she doesn't retract as his thumb streaks away the blood oozing from her shoulder gently, saying nothing as he examines it.

After a brief pause Y/N's heart skips a nervous beat when he tilts her chin to have a better look at her face, taking in the evidence of someone handling his petal so brutally it left scratches at her face.

Harry looks her dead in the eyes. His anger barely restrained tippling from the pot ready to leave burns, his voice is tense and quite, ears heating with wrath.

"Who did this to you?"

"Kevin." The tears are back at her waterline more concerned that he's panicking because of her and Scottie sits beside her massaging her shoulders.

"Kevin, who?" Harry's question is curt controlling himself from finding this mother fucker himself and beat the shit out of him, "H -- he's my friend's boyfriend, I though --– was sleeping in her studio 'n 'n --- when he . . . he —-- " She hides her face in her palms unable to speak but Harry quickly pulls her down in a comforting hug whispering sweet things to stop her crying.

She parts from him with puffy eyes and swollen lips shaking her head at her stupidity, "I … I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here, 'm gonna leave — ' " She's a weeping blubbering mess trying to stand up on her jello legs with the help of the couch's armrest.

He catches her wrist crying out, "No! Don't! please, please stay . . . . fo' me?" Scottie has never seen him like this. Bended out of shape for a person, begging them on his knees to protect them as he rambles loudly.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden on you, I -- I'll go in the morning." Since she has nowhere to go it's better she sleeps here for a night instead of on the streets.

Harry finds it ironic. That once he didn't want her overnights now he wants her all days and weeks, perhaps till the end of his life.

He's gonna win her back.

He hands her his tattered comfy sleeping clothes and the spare toothbrush leaving her to it. When he comes back downstairs Scottie's waiting for him at the main door.

"You should report a file against that bastard the first thing in the morning." Scottie tells him seriously and he nods. His head snaps when she spoke softly, smiling at him, "You're in love."

"What?"

"I haven't seen you like that with anyone, Harry. Make it to her foolish boi -- tell her what you feel." She laughs, jolting him with his shoulders and he smiles timidly bidding her a good-bye.

The door to her room's ajar opened as he peeks inside to make sure she's okay and sighs deeply when finds her staring blankly at the ceiling. The floorboard creaks when he pads inside quietly and her stare diverts to him while he stands on the foot of bed, "I read somewhere that cuddlin' helps ye'sleep better, you w'na try?" She hums in return, fisting the duvet under her chin and slip shuts her eyes remaining stiff in her spot when he slides under the duvet closer to her.

She turns into a puddle when his long arms wrap around her tummy, "Is this okay?" His voice a mere whisper of care earning an honest nod from her -- his thigh strings over her legs to cocoon her in his warmth completely, ". . and this?" She again nod at him so,

He smushes his cheek into the crook of her neck and she could feel something moist on her skin while his lips puckered to speak, "Y/N?" He murmures broken and sad snuggling more into her.

"Hmm?" She hums, the exhaustion from walking and crying this much forcing her to sleep, "I've missed you, terribly." Her heart leaps and she wants to exchange the familiarity of emotions but her tongue remains heavy in her mouth.

Her toes curls and fingers clutches the wrinkly fabric of the pillow case she had her head rested on but now it's slipping down from over it due to her body shaking vigorously as she tries to escape those filthy, gruesome hands like a terrifying shadows of evil choking her throat and sucking the life out of her.

Harry's head snaps down to where she was snuggled to his side moments ago when she murmur-yells no,no,no,no'. He feels like someone placed a heavy brick over his chest at the sight of his lovie writhing like a leaf petrified of whatever she's dreaming of and his shoulders rolls back while he perches on his elbow to shake her gently out of it.

"Y/N . . ." He remains dulcet. Chewing onto his already swollen bottom lip since he didn't even close his eyes the entire night manipulating the plush flesh, he doesn't know what kept him awake —- but it sure was this sense of responsibility to make her feel protected under his wings. She smacks his arm away pushing at his chest with her all might to skid away to the edge of the bed in her sleepy state, so he quickly hunches on wobbly knees to catch her before she falls.

"It's just me, Angel, Harry –- wake up darlin'," His heart beating ominously frantic and head jumbling with horrible thoughts of what she's going through as her warmed up cheeks soak with tears, he has never seen her like this, he never wanted to see her for the first time after months like this --- shattered to pieces and drained of her energy.

He smooths his thumb to caress her cheek slightly and swipe those sad tears away. She wakes up with a gasp making him jerk his chin back, blinking rapidly to confirm her surroundings and her fearful vision zeros to his panicked features. She places her palms against his pectorals to make sure he's real and there and that ugly nightmare just ended, "Harry?" He gulps the thick web of tears down his throat and bobs his head.

"Yes, sweet girl, Harry . . ." The very streaks of golden rays sneak through the curtains and dances between their faces as she fists the hem of his shirt, "It was just a nightmare." He assures her running his hand up and down her arms to calm her down.

"Don't be afraid, dovie' won't let anybody hurt ya from now on, g'na protect you —--" It was the last straw for her before she flipped him over and climbed out of his bed to get out from his room.

"Shit." He drives into a state of frenzy following her down the stairs like a puppy almost missing a step or two as she wears the slippers she came in last night, "Where ye' goin'?" His muscles twitch in a hurry to make his next move and save whatever's between them that's keeping him sane, " Dunno, away from you." She shrugs, lost in her own fog and the sting in his heart's unbearable with the inflammation of hurt.

"Why?" He tumbles through the last step and infront of her, eyes bloodshot and heart how from the squeezing agony of loosing her for second time for the same cause.

"Because, I w'na forget about you!!" The scream she had in her lungs to convey her anger gets stuck in her throat. His shoulders slump from the burden of guilt and regret.

"Why?" He feels like throwing up with the unbearable anguish of him hurting to a point he wants to wash his memories out of her mind.

"Because you make me so confused, Harry…" Her face pinches into an exasperated expression of hopelessness while she nudges him aside to pass by him and to the main door but he catches her wrist before she could step outside and never come back to him, "I wouldn't confuse you from now on …. 've been better fo' you y/n, 'cos I want you to know that I'm yours." His confession springes her off guard by pure stupefaction and when she looks at him -- he's already gazing at her as if she's the moon surrounded by singing stars.

"Please, let me fight for you baby." Tears springs at his waterline ready to welcome a sob out of his lungs. Because he knows he'll be unable to live his life without her, his love will rot in the cage of his heart because he'd never be able to express it for anyone except her.

He continues not holding back anything from her instead unlocking another love language and that's being vulnerable and completely defenceless to her, "While being with you I still thought a part of me was in love with my ex and I didn't want ya to be me second priority, could neve', was so so wrong 'cos even though you're not my firsts you're gonna be my lasts. I'll make sure that you're." He gulps down the tears blocking his wind pipes and making it difficult to speak.

"I want you to give us another chance, to forgive me and give me a proper chance to love you 'cos that's what you deserve . .." The sincerity and genuineness in his stained smaragdine irises turns her pudgy in his hold, ". . . you deserve all the lovin' in this world, honey."

"Work for it then." She tells him and his pretty eyes widen adorably as of some golden fish, a vivacious smile adorns his features and he doesn't take a moment before swiping her off her feet and into his arms to hug her tightly.

His insides feels like nourishing after a time with contentment and satisfaction.

To have his loved one in his arms.

In his life.

"Thank you, Thank you, Thank youuu." He rambles into the crook of her neck, elated and joyful. Swaying their bodies together and making her smile softly after a prolonged time of suffering.

She'll heal.

He'll make sure to put ointment of affection and love on her wounds to help her heal, for herself but nobody else.

"You've got to be kidding me!" She mutters putting the alcohol swab on his torn bleeding knuckles and he squeaks locking his calf around her ankle, "Ouch! Ye' mad woman."

Harry and her went to file a report against Kevin, along with Nora who became her witness because she despises that disgusting of a man to be even around her and her studio let alone her boyfriend.

Harry was her biggest support through the whole process and dropped her off assuring her he'll pick all her stuff from Nora's place. There he was, Kevin. Stumbling at the footpath after Nora kicked him and his luggage out.

Harry's very patient and optimistic but not when his loved ones get hurt. He didn't know what was happening around him before he sprinted towards Kevin and punched him square in his face, breaking his nose and busting his own knuckles with a fierce shout of "y'son of a bastard!"

"If I ever . . . ever see ya near her, I promise that you wouldn't be able to see the living daylight." He grunted, resisting to hit him in the shin with his boots and walked past him to the studio to collect her stuff.

He was grief stricken seeing the way she had to live and not finding her pet cat anywhere. His heart could be heard cracking into tinytinytiny pieces when Nora told him that Y/N gave it to the vet since she was unable to afford it.

When she catches him staring up at her like a love-stricken puppy she huffs wrapping a band-aid around his knuckles, "'M mad at you." He seems unfazed making her gasp when brings her closer with his legs wrapped around her's, "Why . . . you're always mad at me." He whines jutting out his bottom lip and she shakes her head at his silly dotiness.

"You -– you can't go hurtin' yourself fo' me, H." She's very unaware, because certainly he'd do it as many times.

She narrows down her eyes to squint him in offense when he brushes her comment off with nonchalance and raises his bandaged wrist up to her face, "Will you kiss it better' fo' me, pet?" Her insides crumbles like dry rose petals falling from a beloved book of her favourite romances.

"Hmm?" He nudges it in a questioning suppressing a smirk. She wipes her clammy and antiseptic hands down her trousers not meeting his gaze while taking his hand awkwardly but delicately closer to where her soft mouth is located; she halts glowering at him, "Only if you ask nicely."

"That wasn't nice? Thought I was being a good boy there." He mumbles diligently pulling at the hem of her shirt and she bites down a smile, fingers still wrapped round his wrist.

"Pretty please…?" He wheezes his words out begging-ly -- upper lip curving, pupils dilating and she shrugs, "..if you insist so.." His grin was immaculate that of golden sun when she pressed her lips to his knuckles carefully giving it a gentle pat afterward.

"Not doing that again." She breathes out the air she was winding up inside her for so long. Spinning on her heels to turn her back towards him and put the first aid back under the sink, "We'll see 'bout that, let's do some grocery." He stands up patting his thighs loudly, "Wouldn't be surprised if we'll find bugs in me cabinet instead of goodies."

They've been roaming isles for an hour now and they always end up fighting who will push it. Harry doesn't let her because she keeps on filling it with instant noodles, chocolate bars and sakurai oreos.

"How about we try to live till our fifties wouldn't be that beautiful?" He follows behind her closely. His chest brushes against her shoulders everytime she makes a stop to cooes over some brightly coloured food and candies, "'M trying to make it till next year, dunno 'bout you." She mutters grumpy-ly tossing another packet of cherry lollipop inside the trolley.

He puts it back.

With a strict warning glare to her way.

"I want you to stay healthy." He says sternly glaring up at her from his ducked position. She tosses the lollipop back from the shelf, "'M paying for my things." She dismisses him off panning deadly.

"Fo' fucks sake, 's not 'bout money!" He grits annoyed at her stubbornness and she arches her brow leaning against the trolley, "Harry…'m not an actress or some high-paid model. Lemme enjoy real things, okay? Or just say you'd look too outta my league standing next to me." Her brows pints down into a frown and her shoulder slumps with her body further relaxing against the trolley.

She's up for a debate with him right in the middle of the junk food aisle if that's the case.

"See. That's why I don't want to be married!" A couple from far banters off in astonishment catching Y/N completely off guard.

"Uh-ah!" She yelps getting startled from the boom of interruption and a high-pitch squeaks leaves out of her petite lungs when the trolley rolls from under her perched elbow making her stumble for a nice trip but the bang never came as Harry coiled his arm around her waist to pull her on stable feet with a firm hand over her smallest of back.

His gentle pupils flicker between her frenzied one's, noses tickling and teasing each other with each spurt of breath that rushes out of her parted soft mouth and against his cheek.

"Maybe it's not that bad after all." The couple who were planning their future based on another couple, who's not even a couple yet but trying to work on it with their shared amount of affection; sighs in awement leaving Harry and Y/N in their own bubble.

He takes her by the elbow and helps her with his lips thinned, "Careful there." His mumble is deep and coherent husk.

She didn't whine about his green vegetables, boring low fat cheese and planned meals, celery or whatever that shit is, after that. Walking by his side like a kid who just got relief from his time out punishment.

While on the counter she asked him politely rather than biting his head of, "Lemme pay please. I'm already imposing on you by staying at your place." She knows that he wouldn't let her. Harry wants to take care of her -- in every way. He just hopes she warms up to him slowly that there will be a day she thinks of his home as hers too, oh how the table turns!

T'not make her think that his love for her is only restrictive to materialistic things he lets her pay --- but for half of it.

"D'ya got a change, miss?" The cashier asks her and she cranes her neck up to him. He denies waving his credit card with a disappointed expression so she quickly takes a chewing gum from the racks beside in return for the change.

He stops in his tracks. Watching her with glinting eyes more like fawning at her when she sways on her feet happily swinging the bag in her hold side by side.

"C'mon Harry!" She grins twiddling her fingers in a gesture to usher him where she's standing beside his car, "Yup. On your command, darlin'." He shakes his head. To fetch himself from the fond-land he always enters with anything she does.

There's a low hum of telly buzzing in the room as they sit crossed legs on the coffee rug with their knees brushing if any of them moves their bum a tad, while they slurp onto the remaining soup in the noodles cup.

This whole time he wanted to say something, to talk to her, his heart out and make it a domestic routine of sharing stuff while they eat comfy in eachother's presence but seems like his tongue betrays him everytime and his needy eyes always want to admire her and the little things she does.

He licks his lips, nodding profusely when she asks for his cup and chopsticks to take to the kitchen. A huge sigh of relief vanishes out from his chest when she disappears inside giving him time to re-collect himself, he rummages through the bag to take out the chewing gum they bought at the last moment.

He rips the packet with his teeth but it remains pressed there between his morals when he senses the familiarity of the foil --- she bought a fucking condom out of accident!

At the same moment she pads outside halting in her tracks infront of him with a horrendous expression as her peepers wouldn't stop blinking. He doesn't not know what got into him but he throws it her way as if he's utterly disgusted by it.

Sinks into the couch and refuses to meet her gaze. She throws it back at him, "I don't want it, keep it you might need it." There he goes. The smugness fuels back as he outstretches his arm over the back of the couch and man-spreads scrutinizing the way her eyes linger at his meaty thighs before flicking them away with a nervous gulp.

"You've already planned it all out, hun?" He smirks rubbing the belly of his nose with his pinky's knuckle and she folds her elbows under her breasts shaking her head at his teasing, "Yeah planning to . . . murder you t'night." She laughs out evilly when his eyes widen comically.

"Hmm. I see. Didn't know ye' were this kinky 'n naughty." She rolls her eyes at his edgy nip. She wouldn't admit it but him testing her patience turns her hot and flustered.

"Night, H." She yawns and his heart grows ten times bigger at the softness of her appearance. She cranes her head against her shoulder to look at him from the spot she's standing at when his voice calls for her, "Y/N!? Ye'really into knives? In the bed I mean." His grin mischievous knowing fully well what he's doing to her as he waits for her answer propped on his knees.

She slams the door at his face and he plops back into the sofa with a pouty victorious smile.

Harry didn't realise that in the middle of watching Gilmore Girls on the telly he fell asleep straining his neck from keeping it in a weird angle, his arms hugging the pillow and feet dangling adorably nowhere. He groans knuckling away the sleep and tries to wake up when he heard a feeble noise of someone taking his name until he looks up and finds Y/N towering him with her fluffy cream blanket pinched around her head darlingly.

"What happened, pet? Y'okay!?" He gasps trying to sit up and take her precious face to inspect her properly but she shakes her head and lays him back gently.

Her nose runny and cheeks rosied as she asks for a favour from him, "Can I -- um," She wipes her nose with the sleeve of her sweater paw. He doesn't question her further and opens his long arms to welcome her for a warm embrace.

"C'mere, pet." His whisper delicate to her.

She lies down pressed to his front resting her head on his sprawled arm and scooches herself closer to him smiling shyly against his hoodie where a Harry is embroidered in pink thread. It's like a gust of fresh spring and dew of nighty mountains as Harry takes a relaxing breather snuggling her impossibly affectionately close to himself, petting down her sweet smelling hair.

"Y'can talk to me 'bout anythin'." Their heart-beats in sync as he keeps his palm spread at her back to protect her from falling, "Ye' know that right?" He pulls back to cradle her chin between his fingers and look her in eyes sincerely.

"I know that button. Sleep for now, hmm?" He smiles softly, shutting his eyes from giving out how much a mere love name's enough to fuse him into a cloud of giddiness.

In the morning though, Harry's a small spoon and Y/N a big one. Her limbs trying to latch to his body in every way possible with her cheek smashed against his shoulder blade.

His lips quirks up into a lazy loopy smile full of contentment and peacefulness as he weaves his each finger into her's to bring her knuckles to his mouth and smother it in kisses, "Rise n' shine you furball." He rasps. chin doubling adorably as he tries to look at his squirmy girl.

He turns to face her side, temples touching and lips hovering over eachother's skin. He feels her smiling against his chin as she cuddles up into him, "I'd like to make you a brekkie…." She murmurs playing with baby curls on the nape of his neck.

"Dunno 'bout that. What if you poison me, t'death?" He giggles and she smacks his belly pouting grumpy-ly.

"Offer, expired. no more brekkie for you." She tells him wiggling out of his grip and walks towards kitchen but burst into gleeful laugh when he wraps around her calves like a koala bear, "Was jokinnnn', babe." He emphasizes his words with a twinge of whine and she meanders her hand in his ruffled curls.

"Kay! Kay! But, I could only make you omelette and sour bread." He jumps back on his feet enthusiastically looping his arm around her clavicles, "No problem. Glad t'eat anythin' made from your lovely hands."

She made him brekkie and he made fabulous peach tea for them. She blabbered off and he listened with careful ears. He praised her with glinting proud eyes and she treasured these praises in her heart.

While she chewed slowly he messaged his manager that he couldn't come to any working place for a week or so. He wants to make it special and memorable for them, their honeymoon phase.

"D'ya have any class today?" He asks her leaning towards her atop the counter, "Nope 's Saturday dummy." She chuckles flicking her thumb against his forehead and he gives a dimpled grin with bolted shut eyes.

"Yeah … silly me."

"Why?"

"So that I could take ye' ona date." His inners bouncing desperate to know her answer, "Me?" She points at herself surprised with parted lips.

"Yes you, is there somebody else sitting with us? Hello?" He calls for that non-existent person and she suckles her bottom lip to subside her squeals down. She breathes out, "Some ghostie? Evil spirit? Jesus himself —-" She cuts his banter of. With a light slap to the back of his hand.

"Okay." She says with an excited shake of head happiness bare in her words and Harry literally slips from his seat padding towards her in haste, "I'd love to." She confirms with a sweet smile and he hooks his nimble finger around her jeans loop to pull her closer to him for a fervid emotional hug.

She was a frolic mess in her room trying out her outfits and fitting into her skirts, trousers anything that could match perfectly. Deciding to terminate any ideas to wear cotton floral sun-dresses instead ends up tucking a baby pink sweater into her chequered white and black plaid trouser along with a pair of Mary Janes booties.

She took huge puffs of breath to calm her wild heart down when the knock on her door appeared. He decided to be a full on romantic today doing all the date rituals without any shame dressing up in a silk shirt three shades lighter than her's, with a pussy bow around his neck and she thinks she couldn't be more in love with him as he has a bunch of sunflowers and jasmines in the cracks of his jewels adorned fingers.

"Well, well, well, Look who came to their enemy's door holding presents." She smirks and he scowls, "Oh cut it. 'M here to pick y'up fo' our date."

What makes her lose her mind's Zippy on his shoulder.

"Oh my goodness! Harry!" She leaps towards him and takes her fluffy beast in her arms and showers Zippy's crown with many many kisses, "Thank you!" She cries out joyfully wrapping her free arm around his waist and cuddles him for dear life.

"I lo —-- " She thinks it'd be embarrassing to say it on the first date and Harry almost had a mini heart-attack but she changed her words, "I can't be more grateful to you, thank you so much."

"Now, stop thankin' me hunny." He gives her the flowers he plucked himself from his backyard and kisses the apple of her cheek turning her into a gooey mesh.

"Where is it?" She avoids checking him out.

"Why should I tell ya?" He nudges her to lock her elbow around his and she gazes up at him with loving eyes, "'cos 'm your date that's why."

"Bribe me then." He grins bashfully.

"Harry!!" She gasps and huffs tipy-toeing timidly to plant a soft kiss to his chin but it lands against his throat making him thin his lips to give out a noise that could embarrass both of them.

"Not telling you." He squeaks dragging her outside into the porch and she whines, "You leech!"

"You did not!" She snaps her neck in utter exhilaration from the view in front of her and towards Harry who's watching her with puffed cheeks to not to give out his bunny smile as her face turns guppy. The sunshine dawdles around them and she pulls him down to her level with the tug of their intertwined hands, "You're somethin' else, Styles." It warms his blood. Bursting sentiments of pure love and amiability through each orifice that leads to his heart.

"Only fo' you." He whispers stroking the plush of her cheek -- restraining to place his needy lips on her alluring pillow one's inviting him to have a good taste of their sweetness before they could taste the ripeness of strawberries growing at the farm he just took her.

"Uhm. Let's see who could collect more!" She grins pushing herself three steps away from him with support of his pecs, "What's the prize?" He asks pawing at her hips to keep her in intimate distance and she giggles tapping his chin.

"A feeling of saccharine-ss and sweetness when we'll eat those strawberries out." She tries not to step on heavy branches that are still growing and makes her way to the fresh patch, "Perhaps, that could be acquired from eatin' somethin' else out too." His wet lips brushes against her earlobe as he speaks, sending a shiver down her spine.

"You're being very loud and lewd." She pokes him in ribs. Squatting down to pluck a juicy perfectly sized strawberry and hovering it against his mouth to give him a taste, "Hmm what could I say 'm a man of dirty words." His eyes darken to an intoxicating shade of emerald as his heart-shaped magenta lips wrap around the strawberry to split it in two with his teeth.

He still remembers. How her mouth tasted that night, how her lips came molding around his's like a stamp of a lover's letter and her body fitted against his's like a lost piece of puzzle.

Just made for him.

"Harry …" She's out of words. Maybe, breath.

"Yes dovie?" He hooks his finger into her belt's loop to saturate the thread like distance between them and makes tight hold at the nape of her neck to crane her head up to meet his honey eyed gaze, "D'ya know how to make strawberry mochi?" His shoulder slumps at her question and he rests his cheek atop her temple cutely.

"Noo." His voice sort of whine-y.

"No, problem. We'll make it together." She chuckles turning back to collect the strawberries into her basket.

She never had this fun. Messing around with him. Feeding eachother the sweet fruit. Him scaring her that some rat sprinted by her feet and enjoying the way she jumps at him, only wheezing comically when she throws a blow at him.

Her giggles bounces off each and every ivory flower and leafy plant as he pins her to the viridescent grass, with his thighs and tickles her non-stop. What started as raspberries turns into sloppy smothers of kisses all over her face.

"Harry!!" She bursts into another fit of laughter, "Stop." She warns him squeezing her thighs around his waist and he giggles challenging her.

"O'what? Huhh?" She closes her eyes nuzzling into his arm that's trapping her down, "Or I'll kiss you…" Her voice gentle and dulcet making his grip loosen and heartbeat fastens like a thunderbolt.

"'M not afraid of that." He gives a toothy grin sneaking a glance at her hand which's gliding up his throat to cup his cheek, eyelids fluttering like petals from breeze as she smudges her sweet mesh coated lips against his's in a tenderly ardent, and yearningly amiable kiss feeling her pulse ring in her ears with so much force.

His fingers make their home down her smooth hair to cup the nape of her neck, elbows digging into mud when he lifts her up to deepen the kiss sloppily. Just her. Only her. Swirling inside of him as his very thought.

Their noses crooking perfectly, skins kissing and bodies hitched to eachother with the knot of souls.

She whimpers into his mouth squishing the poor strawberry she was holding in her free hand from the intensity of fierce sentiments she's spiraling in; to have him all and swallow him all because he's that damn gorgeous. His tongue pokes and tickles the plush insides of her small mouth tasting the strawberry straight from where he loves the most. His belly burning with the fire of desire feeling the way her body's reacting with puriency to his subtle touches of affection.

He was dying to have a kiss from her the day she gave him her lips that night and he couldn't resist but to think about it regularly.

A wet filthy sound bubbles around them when they part away with the remnants of spit in the form of intricate strings connecting them; that breaks when he relaxes his forehead against her's taking a good breather of mossy air.

"S' messy." He tuts when his eyes fall at her palm covered in strawberry pulp.

She gasps giddy-ly when he pokes his pink tongue out and takes a huge swipe up her palm with an erotic hum that rattled her insides.

"H -- arry." She nibbles at her bottom lip to filter noises she's unable to hold meanwhile he sucks her fingers one by one to clean them, her panties twisting with an ache of want.

"Hmm. All nice 'n clean, now we should go." He says flipping her wrist to act as if he's inspecting it. Brushes the dirt of his trousers leaving her baffled and grumpy. When she doesn't stand up he squats down at her level arching a brow at her and before she could know what's happening she's thrown over his broad shoulder like a rag doll.

Her squeals hearty and giggly as she tries to punch his back but her breath gets caught in her throat when his large hand comes spanking her butt-cheek. He waits for her reaction —- grinning cheekily when she sucks in her weak mewls and grabs the back of his neck blabbering his name off.

He puts her back on the ground once out on the gravel path and hands her the basket piled with strawberries. Ducks down to sponge a kiss to her cheek telling her to stay glued to her spot as he leaves to pay.

She smiles down at her feet then at the sky revinding all the moments and their lovely kiss that makes her feel all warm and stupidly gooey.

While boarding the train he wiggles his finger behind himself to get a hold on her and keep her close to him, craning his neck with a lopsided sly smile, "Hold me hand."

"If you insist." She nods with a grin slipping her fingers over his palm and he wovens them with his own with a firm grip stepping inside the train and helps her to do so with his free hand behind her head.

She sighs. Sitting with her back pressed against the window of the train. One leg folded and other dangling from the seat as she stares at Harry with a pouty smile.

"Don't ya think you're sittin' too far away from me?" He says, grabbing her knee, "Come here." And slides her towards himself now their thighs overlapping. He doesn't like even the mere distance between them —-- might sound sappy but he wants to be like her scent.

"Happy?" She pinches his cheek and he winces dramatically ruffling her already loose tresses of hair making her look as if she was on a roller coaster minutes ago, "aren't you a one clingy bunny!" She huffs trying to blow away the hair falling in her eyes. He bobs his head in agreement and slings his elbow around her shoulders to tuck her under his chin protectively.

"Okie, now add some sugar in it —- aish slow down …" She coughs waving away the sugar dust tickling her nostrils as Harry poured so much sugar all at once. He has his chin rested on her head and her hips crooned against his thighs as they make the strawberry and vanilla mochi together.

His puffer jacket on her shoulders (To the time they went to buy grocery stuff it started being cold and Harry being a mommy he took out his jacket and bundled her up in it) —- She sneezes and he quips pecking her hair, "Bless your heart." Fetches her a tissue too.

"Thank you, bubs." She giggles grabbing his jaw bringing him down to smooch a kiss to his lips. She pulls back but he persists snaking his palm around the nape of her neck to keep her put —- she gives in with her heart fluttering like candle flame in a destructive storm.

Turns in his embrace and hooks her elbows behind his head patching tiny, tiny, tiny pecks on his pillowy lips until he gets desperate to kiss her mouth and tongue pushing her to his front by gliding his hand into the back-pocket of her jeans.

Her head lulls. Feeling as if the kitchen got filled with candy clouds floating around her when he cradles her cheeks in his both palms lapping at her bottom lip and nips at it with every whimper of desire that falls, "Mine." He breathes out rubbing the bridge of his nose up and down her cheek like a puppy nuzzling into his favourite plushie.

"Yours." She says without any hesitation.

He smashes his wet lips back on hers. Swirls of gleeful colours surrounding them as he feels like he could kiss her forever.

She gasps gazing down lustfully at his wine cherried lips when he holds her from waist and sits her on the wooden counter, "I want you to take me." She murmurs nailing at the silk of his top and he paws at her hip-bones cravingly, it makes her feel like one the most desired women alive.

"I'm all yours to pleasure you lovie'," He looks her in the eyes with so much love and affection it melts her whole, "Just ask me and I'll give me girl what she wants …. " He says trailing sloppy kisses down her throat. Her head falls against the tiled wall giving him more access to her skin --- so he could mark her as he wishes.

The heat from his mouth to her bare skin arouses her to an extent she feels wetness sticking to the insides of her thighs with each grind of his crotch against her's.

She tugs at the roots of his curls, mouth parted around a moan when he grazes his touch over her plump breasts, "Is this okay?" He asks breathlessly and she bobs her head vigorously latching onto him.

"Yes, please, more … " He blinks to let reality sink in when she raises her arms in the air for him to get rid of her clothes.

He smiles. Hard. Crinkles forming by his eyes and cheery lines around his mouth as she looks up at him with those doe eyes glinting with his own reflection.

She squirms grumpily and he cackles loudly when she hooks his fingers into the hem of her jeans as a sign that "just undress me right now and fuck me hard over this counter." But, the romantic sap he's just keeps on being a tease.

"Fuck me already." She huffs locking her ankles behind his back.

"Trust me, I want it as bad as y'do but are you sure —-- "

"I'm --- just fuck …. " She cuts him off, cupping his cheeks and kisses his mouth. He groans when she sucks his swollen lip in between his teeth and lifts her pelvis grinned against his swell lining in his trouser to elaborate her neediness through actions,

He undresses her finally folding them and putting them away nicely while she stays a breathless mess just in her undies, her sheer panties soaked in her juices and profanities of moans fuses into air from both of them as Harry places his hands on her knees. Irises darkening with lust when he looks at the delicate lines of her drippy pussy lips forming from underneath the material.

"Spread your legs, I want to feel how turned on I made you feel." His voice an obscene grunt and it tingles her core making her feel she should obey him, "Fuckin' hell." His moan is dirty as he rubs the pad of his long digits against her soaked centre. His piercing gaze flitting between her thighs crumbled her in the best way possible.

She fists the hem of his top, tugging at it with the blabbering of his name.

A series of pornographic whines leaves her through her nose when he demands her to raise her bum so he could get rid of the last thing being a bother to them.

"Oh my — " She arches her spine when his fingers withered in her stickiness, between her glistening pussy lips to her mound pinching her clitoris in the way and listens to the soapy noises he's creating while lathering his hand with her juices he'd love more to coat his tongue with.

"This is what you want, hmm? For me to bend you over this counter right fucking now and pump me thick cock inside your sweet cunt from behind till you're screaming for me to ram harder inside you, so deep that you feel me in your little tummy and I keep it there for hours making you cum on it again and again — many time that you're milky and cramped around my prick like a filthy girl you're." He dips his impossibly sweet pink tongue inside her mouth and makes her sip down his dirty words through her throat not letting her mewls slip out as his lengthy finger slicks inside her causing her melt against his chest with a turmoil of emotions and heat she never felt before.

Her brain whirles with the mantra of fuckfuckfuck but her guppy lips says otherwise, she coils her arms around his shoulders scratching her nails down his neck — eyes rolling back as she shakes with the build of ecstasy.

"You're so snug and warm, sweets. Can't wait to be inside you." He husks curling his digit to give her upper wall a good rub, "Harry!" Her scream comes out gruff vibrating with a sexy octave.

"Yes, baby." He pinches her chin between his thumb and forefinger staining soft wet kisses from the corner of her lips, to her rosy cheeks and down her throat sewing love bites along her veins.

"Does it feel good, hmm? 'M g'na stuff you full of my prick bet it'll make you feel like heavens --" Her brows tenses up as he forces her to keep her eyes locked with his's and groans with the throb in his cock bound to implode with each whimper of his name she lets out hiking up her knees on the counter — the heels of her feet sticking firmly against the edge of the counter giving a carnally pleasing view for him to enjoy and ooze with sticky precum.

He huffs out breathily, fingers sliding in and out at a fast pace while he moves down to take her perky nipple between his teeth teasing it with nip of his tongue, "Fuck. Mhmm baby I've so many dirty things to d'to you, would you be an atta girl and be naughty with me?" He nuzzles his curls against her skin grinding his knuckles up and down against her swollen clit.

"Yes, yes, yes." She moans trying to sink impossibly deep on his fingers. He admires her in amusement as her belly twists into ripples and she thrashes in his tight hold —- broken into pieces of vulnerability foxily.

He withers his gaze to where he's driving his fingers roughly inside her and a cold shiver runs down his spine, eyelashes fluttering and he sucks his bottom lip brutally praising her softly, "yes just like that darling taking my fingers so good —- they'll look pretty down your throat too while I'll fill your other holes with me, all me." He wraps a hand around her throat giving it a light squeeze and it was enough to spread warmth and the saccharine feeling of fullness in her every tissue gushing over his fingers.

"You're mine." He growls nipping at her sweet spot –-- wearing her out with his continuous different motions inside her. His wrist glistening with her come and her head lulls on his tanned shoulder, eyes slip shut, chest levitating with shallow breaths.

She cups his cheeks wrapping her trembling legs around his waist and kisses his smile, it's sloppy and barely a kiss with their lazy effort to keep their mouths on each other to soak into intimacy.

Next they're a moaning and crying mess on the kitchen floor with her knee hooked around his hip to keep him close as he stretches her out leaving a pleasurable burn against her squishy inviting walls.

His cock sits warm inside her pussy and his balls snug against her bum. It's torturous waiting for her to give a signal that he might move because he couldn't resist but to be rock hard inside her and fuck her for hours but his knees are laughing at him for being unable to bear the sting of cold tiles.

"You can move, 'm okay." She whispers hugging him for dear life and he nods grinding his hips slowly, the bulbous head of his dick hitting all the right spots —- he's so good at fucking.

He takes her fleshy tits in his palms caressing them with each lewd stroke of his cock inside her and treats her glistening lips from his spit back to his mouth, pecking it generously.

"Pull me hair." He groans pushing hard and guides her hand into his swirl of sweaty curls — hips stuttering, eyes rolling back into his skull erotically when she does so peppering loving kisses under his earlobe, "You're g'na ruin me lovie … fuck me please." He whines grabbing her ass and lifts her pelvis to slide inside her dripping pussy with much more roughness.

She has never seen him like this. Shredded to seams for her, sweat beading down his gorgeous face like glimmer of pearls and eyes mossed with so much lust and desperation it knocks air out of her lungs.

He rolls them over gently and her squeal turns into a shameless yawp when he feels much more bigger than before inside her with her being on top of him —- he was right she could feel him in her tummy.

She's clueless what to do. Not that she's gonna show it –- she doesn't want to give him an impression that she knows barely anything about riding but the way she begins with zealous back and forth movement digging the heels of her palms against his pecks wrecks him havoc.

"You're doin' so good pet, yes, yes, yes. Use me baby. Use me like your little fuck toy 'm c'mon." He grabs the nape of her neck and brings her down to skim his tongue over her lips, manipulating the plushiness of them with his teeth. His balls slapping against her skin as she bounces on his cock diligently and he fists the soft flesh of her bum with both of his hands to help her ride him knows she's labouring herself out, "I'm all yours." He says caressing her sides to make sure she's okay and brushes the wisp of sticky hair behind her ear.

"You're looking so sexy sitting on my dick like that -- how about I don't allow you to cum so you could keep me warm with your pussy like that fo' hours?" His pants out gripping at her thighs as his prick spills with wetness inside her and she cries out shaking, "No!" He smirks crinkled forming by his eyes and takes this chance to drive hard up inside her making her flop onto his chest.

She gasps moistly, pulsating around him feeling every ridge and vein of his cock stroking against her walls creating obscene noises of skin meeting skin and their moistures mixing soapily like gooe.

"Cum fo' me baby -- squeezing me s' tight. I know you're there." His pants laboured and heavy as he sucks his own digits coating them with his spit nicely and glides them down pressing them to her weeping bud, then flickers it in prolong circles. Toes curling. His thrusts consistent and fast. She crooks her nose against his's murmuring to him with a wavering voice.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck."

"You're gonna make me come."

Her eyes widen in surprise but her body reacts otherwise albeit she has never experienced it —- but her moans were uncontrollable when he spanked her butt cheek and she crampied down at him jolting tremendously with the wave of insanity spreading to her bones.

"I'm a naughty boy, give it to me." He kisses his teeth together man spreading and throwing his knees up to ram up inside her perfectly.

His eyes shuts till he could see white spotting behind them -- he spills inside her in form of thick ribbons and milks her cunt with it riding her out of her high. She clings to his body and snuggles into him to tone down the shivers running down her spine with each tiny orgasm she feels rushing out with his lazy thrusts.

"I'm jello." She tells him and he looks down at her with a mishevious grin, "Does that give me a reason to eat you whole?" She rolls her eyes poking at his cheek with a grossed out expression.

"I'm still inside ye', remember?" He stirs his hips to make her realise and she yelps not know if it's making her feel hot or utterly sensitive, "You're insatiable." She mumbles pouting her lips to indicate him she's dying for his lips to smooch kisses to her.

"No kidding I love the noises you make when you come undone." She confesses timidly drawing stars at his chest and he giggles kissing her temple gently, "Stop before you wake me buddy up again –- he quite fond of you." He blushes hiding his face into the crook of her neck with tiny voice.

They're canoodling under the fluffy blanket on the sofa watching telly after they just took a bath together, shampooing eachother with peach scents and drying eachother off with warm towels. She's nuzzled into his side wearing one of his baby yellow robes, his arm stays around her shoulder thumb addicted to caressing her silky cheek, sometimes spreading his fingers down her throat to tip her chin up to smooch sweet kisses on her lips.

"You're cute when you're not a pest." She giggles and he frowns comically pretending to munch her alive, "That's very rude -- you should be thankful that I lov — " Her heart almost stops functioning.

They were sipping onto their green teas and nibbling onto the strawberry mochi they made and refrigerated before when the doorbell rang making them groan in laziness.

She stood up going to see what took Harry so long on the door and got revealed to him talking instinctively to whoever rang the bell.

"Hi, Y/N." Scottie smiles at him. Carrying her luggage and Y/N looks down at her attire for a second then forwards her hand shyly. She was so scared that day –- it's a blur to her but now she watches Scottie properly she realizes …. She's the same girl from all the paparazzi photos.

Something switches off inside her. The rainbows and confettis, the moonlight and stars and the nebula of the whole galaxy she had consumed in her little body from making love to Harry just shuts down into a white noise.

Her bottom lip plumps into a pout. Eyebrows trembling from this confused feeling of some invisible thing squeezing the life out of her.

She's jealous.

"I just came here to say bye." Scottie's voice makes her focus back into reality.

"Oh…" She just nods. She doesn't return the hug even though her brain guilt trips her for that and when Scottie leaves with the air thick and tense, Harry corners her in between a wall and piece of furniture cradling her grumpy face in his careful palms speaking gently to her.

"You don't 'ave to worry 'bout her, she's just a friend …. Infact you don't have to worry 'bout anyone because I love you so so much baby that I don't see myself spending me life with anyone else." She glances up at him twice, jaw falling slack from shock and he chuckles smothering her in kind-hearted kisses when she stares at him like a hawk.

"You what!?"

"I love you, Y/N." Her eyes closing like a moth flapping nearer to fire and finding peace in burning inside it.

"I love you too so much." She whispers and welcomes his lips melting against her ardently. With the passion only lovers hold. Amiability she couldn't find anyone else but in his embrace, in his kisses and his lovemaking.

"Can we go back to cuddlin'? Me feet gettin' cold baby." He whines treading fastly into the living room while carrying her like a kitten from behind and makes squeaky noises once snoozed under the warmth of the blanket.

He touches their foreheads. Kissing the tip of her nose adorably.

"I love you." Then burst into giggles. When she returns the passion coyly.

"I love you too."

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #Harry Styles fluffy duffy

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brawltogethernow · 3 years

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@mirrorfalls submitted: Came across this while searching for James Bond’s scrambled-eggs recipe (long story). Your thoughts?

But did you find James Bond’s scrambled eggs recipe?

In this article, Scocca laments his inability to find accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable to read with his young son, while also demonstrating a mysterious aversion to looking at DC and Marvel’s lines of comics for children, which is where the accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable for reading with young children are. He wants his elementary schooler to be able to safely have the run of all superhero media so he doesn’t have to touch the yucky baby books.

This is not an industry-wide crisis. This is just one dude who got paid to write an article where he accidentally exposed one of his personal hangups.

The child headed toward the trade paperbacks of Marvel and D.C. superhero titles on the side wall […] a few steps in front of me. […] Is he with you? a clerk asked me. I said he was. You know, the clerk said, we have a kids’ section. The clerk gestured backward, at a few shelves near the entrance. I said, Thanks, we know and tried throwing in a little shrug, as the kid kept going.

You can’t just turn a seven-year-old child loose in a comic-book store to look at the superhero comic books. […] My seven-year-old really wanted to see that last Avengers movie […] that is, he wished it were a movie he could see, but he understood that it was, instead, a movie designed to scare and sadden him—a movie actively hostile to people like him.

They have a children’s section. Because comics are a medium suitable for stories for everybody, and they are sold in comic book shops, which have sections, like bookstores. You can use this organization to find books that you know in advance are suitable for children. What goes in that category is determined by industry professionals. This area will be bigger the bigger the shop is. These comics are not lower quality that titles from the main lines. They are actually slightly better-written on average.

Your local comic book shop has considerately wrapped Empowered in a plastic bag, so your child will not be drawn in by a colorful superhero and accidentally read a graphic scene. If you think your kid might find a memoir about internment camps upsetting, it is your job to notice them picking up They Called Us Enemy and read the blurb on the back before you let them have it. This comic adults are meant to read is in a comic book shop because that is where comics are sold. Not every public place is supposed to be Disneyland.

Movies have ratings systems. If you do not want your child to watch a PG-13 movie, you will find that most superhero cartoons are for children. They are about the same characters. Some are quite good! I really enjoyed Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Your child may like Avengers Assemble. At least I think that’s right. I’m always mixing those titles around.

This is a deeply weird bias for Scocca to casually demonstrate, because he identifies in the article that real childishness is striving for empty maturity.

He compares an old comic,

[…]a 1966 Spider-Man comic in which Spider-Man meets, fights, and defeats the Rhino; participates in a running argument between John Jameson and J. Jonah Jameson about his heroism; buys a motorcycle; breaks up with his first girlfriend, Betty Brant; flirts with Gwen Stacy; and reluctantly agrees to let Aunt May take him to meet her friend Mrs. Watson’s niece, Mary Jane.

and a new comic,

[…]a 21st century comic book in which Thor, brooding in a Katrina-destroyed New Orleans, beats up Iron Man. He also yells at Iron Man a lot about some incomprehensibly convoluted set of grievances, including involuntary cloning, that he believes Iron Man perpetrated against him while he was dead(?), and then summons some other Norse god from the beyond somehow for reasons having something to do with real estate. I think. Where the 1966 comic is zippy and fun and complete, the whole contemporary one is muddled and lugubrious and seems to constitute a tiny piece of a seemingly endless plot arc—simultaneously apocalyptic and inert.

and concludes that the edgier comic is actually less mature. This is true. (This is not news about mediocre comics.)

It also has nothing to do with either comic being child-friendly, the article’s nominal thesis, except in the sense that ASM #41 (yes, I eyeballed that from that summary, yes I am just showing off now) is better written, making it more everyone-friendly. It also has practically more space dedicated to word balloons than art and is about a college student juggling girl problems and a part-time job with a tyrannical boss. But the immature one, as Scocca points out, is dour.

These are both teenagery issues, separated only by quality. It’s true that lots of new comics published by the big 2 are bad in the specific way Scocca describes here, taking themselves too seriously and hauled down by associated stories instead of buoyed by them. Some are not! Some titles from these companies’ main continuities are zippy, contained, and child friendly. Give your child The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl! Or if you like vintage comics so much better, why don’t you…buy some?

The books on the kid’s rack are good and fun and totally suitable for parents to read with their children without wanting to scoop their eyeballs out. Scocca cites the Batman ‘66 comics as the brightly colored, tightly written all ages solution to his problem about sharing superhero stories with his son. My local comic shop stores this title in the kid’s section. I am glad that Scocca’s does not, as he seems to have a peculiar aversion to looking for comics to read with his son there.

Scocca cites Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse as a superhero movie he could watch with his kids. (I was surprised when this line made it sound like he has several. I don’t want to assume the other one isn’t in this article because they’re a girl, but I very much am assuming that.) Great! Go to the kid’s section and look for Marvel Adventures: Spider-Man. It’s a fun, zippy title directly inspired by ITSV where Miles, Gwen, and Peter superhero together. It’s much more tightly written than most of the various Spider-Verse comics, which are ambitiously messy ubercrossovers. You may not want to give those to children because they include murder and so on, but also you just have the choice between the two as an adult reader deciding how much continuity you want to deal with. Adventures is one of the only titles I would buy on sight before corona. The kid comic rack is a reliable place to take a break from How Comics Get Sometimes regardless of how old you are.

This article makes me feel quarrelsome. Maybe it’s that it doesn’t seem like exploration of a single idea so much as a loosely grouped bundle of things to kvetch about. Maybe it’s that the experience of getting into superheroes that Scocca describes experiencing, projects his seven-year-old son will experience, and from which he extrapolates a metaphorical microcosm of the history of the genre is completely alien to me.

Comic books [and] comic-book movies—are […] trapped in their imagined audience’s own awful passage from childhood to adolescence. A seven-year-old has a clean […] appreciation of superheroes. They like hero comics because the comics have heroes: bold, strong, vividly colored good guys to fight off the bad guys and make the world safe.

But seven-year-olds stop being seven. […] They become 13-year-olds, defensively trying to learn how to develop tastes about tastes.

The 13-year-old wants many things from comics, but the overarching one is that they want to prove that they’re not some seven-year-old baby anymore. They want gloomy heroes, miserable heroes, heroes who would make a seven-year-old feel bad. (Also boobs. They want boobs.)

Not because of the boobs line, although that does illicit an eyeroll that this gloomy thinkpiece is fretting over preserving the superhero experience of little boys who resemble the little boy the writer was while casually dismissing everyone else. I was one of those unlikable little seven-year-olds with a college reading level and the impression that maintaining it was the crux of my worth. I only read Books - distinguished media you could club someone with. I have a formative memory of pausing, enraptured, in front of a poster for Spider-Man 3, preparing to say that it looked pretty cool, and being beaten to the punch by my mother making a disparaging comment about how the movie was trash. It wasn’t out yet, but it was a superhero movie. That meant it was for loud, brainless children.

That was the total of my childhood experience with superheroes, excluding being the unwilling audience to incessant renditions of “Jingle Bells, Batman Smells” that left me wondering why in god’s name Batman’s sidekick was named Robin. I certainly never visited a comic book shop. I got into TvTropes, which got me into webcomics, which got me following David Willis, who got me into Ask Chris at ComicsAlliance, which led to me rewarding myself for studying like a demon for the AP tests with three volumes of Waid’s Daredevil, pitched as a return to the character being colorful and swashbuckling. I was seven…teen.

This is of the same thread as Scocca’s point that immaturity is running from childish things. It leaves me baffled that he doesn’t follow that maturity is embracing them.

I will disclose here that while I think it was dumb I had to overcome my upbringing’s deeply embedded shame associated with enjoying arbitrarily defined lowbrow media and children being childish, I think it’s fine that I was allowed largely unchecked access to technically age-inappropriate content. In my limited experience, content small children are too young for is also content they’re too young to understand, so it kind of just bounces off of them, and what actually ends up terrorizing them is unpredictable collages of impressions that strike out at them from content deemed perfectly child-friendly. I would not forbid a seven-year-old I was in charge of from seeing an MCU movie unless I had a reason to believe that specific child would not take it well. These are emotionally low-stakes bubblegum films. It will probably be easier to socialize with other kids if they have seen them.

But then, when I picture being in charge of a hypothetical child, I usually imagine this being the case because they are related to me, and the pupal stage in my family strongly resembles Wednesday Addams. ALL children love death and violence, though, right?? This isn’t a joke point. I know it looks like a joke point.

The MCU thing seems especially weird in light of the article’s particular focus on Spider-Man, which is the kiddie line of the MCU, even if they refused to waver from their usual formula enough to get a lower rating. Though I am more inclined to describe it as “preying on the young” than “child-friendly”.

(MCU movies are increasingly dubious propaganda, but I would not judge them in front of a child who wanted to watch them for that reason, just in case this led to them partaking of them without me the second they were old enough to and then they grew up to run a blog about them while our relationship suffered because they didn’t feel like it was safe to talk to me about their interests…Mom.)

I tried to overcome the philosophy of letting anyone read anything while compiling this handful of mostly-newish superhero recs for the road that anyone can read. (Handily, I have been in spitting distance of being hired as a comic shop clerk enough to have thought about it before):

For actual children:

Marvel Adventures Spider-Man (the new one is reminiscent of ITSV, the old one is more like 616) any DC/Archie crossover, Archie’s Superteens The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl (for bookish children who think they’re too good for comics and adults afraid of the kid’s section) Teen Titans Go (even if you hate the show) Superman Smashes the Klan

For teens:

Ms. Marvel Young Avengers (volume 2) Unbelievable Gwenpool Batman: Gotham Adventures Teen Titans Go (the tie-in comic based off the old show was also called this)

Here are a bunch of relevant C. S. Lewis quotes.

#me every time i read a comic book article by a rag not exclusively about comic books: i know more than you.#marvel #spidey #DCU #MCU critical #mirrorfalls #asks answered #submission #unearthed this and bashed it out in one sitting ... i have not been working on it since you sent it last year XD

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mamabearcat · 3 years

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A while ago @zippi44 put this image up on Tumblr with an invitation to colour it.

It’s a wet and miserable Saturday morning here in Sydney, so this was the perfect time to play with it. I’ve coloured Mashima’s manga panels before, but never another Fairy Tail fan artist’s work, and definitely never anyone like Zippi, who I have to admit, is kinda goals. So, although I’m a little nervous about putting this up on here, I kinda like how it came out, so here ya go!

#not my art #zippi44 #natsu dragneel #lucy heartifilla #nalu fanart #colouring

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zillyeh · 2 years

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the idea miles having a painting of the og underground somewhere hidden where no one's allowed to go makes me want to tear something apart with my teeth. he has everyone who's descendant he found marked in some sort of way depending on what their relationship to him was. also if they're dead yet or not or if he's "keeping" them

#Zilly rambles #Smiles tag #hi dashboard i only plot with myself hi #i am going to throw UP over this nasty old man #there was a part of him that was miserable once but the angry part killed him #all im saying is thank god he never saw slitbinder's eyes #au where miles finds zippie before she unrooted her horns and

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novus-ordo-seclorem · 3 years

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Chapter 2 Temple WIP!

The sun was hot and miserable as Claire stepped out of the building. It was her first spring break from college; Chris wasn't able to pick her up (again), so instead, a sporty five-year-old For Bronco was parked with one wheel on the sidewalk. It looked out of place among all the small zippy "Baby's First Car" models.

With her bookbag packed and suitcase stuffed with whatever she wanted to bring back with her, her motorcycle not even a reality just yet, she dragged/hobbled her stuff over to the parallel-parked vehicle dubiously.

The bronco looked like it would be better suited to being in the middle of the woods, battered and smeared with leaves and mud. Instead it was meticulously cleaned, a faded dingy blue. The windows were rolled down and leather-clad arm was hanging out

"Hey," the man said. "Are you Claire?"

She pushed back her bangs, shifted the enormous briefcase. "Yeah. So you gotta be Leon Kennedy, huh?"

He grinned before he swung open the creaky door, stepping out. "In the flesh. Chris told me to come pick you up and make sure you got to the hotel all right."

He looked kind, younger than Chris, and so conventionally handsome it was a little surreal. His hair was cut in a sort of a neat bang that could be swept back, and the leather jacket gave his frame a blockier structure. He had a generous, friendly mouth, and eyes that reminded her of that haunted look Chris's had.

Chris had met Leon in Raccoon City the same night it started to go to hell. It was Claire who had been sent out of town - both to get her away from the insanity and for one other reason.

She had never formally met Leon, but heard about him the few times she could get Chris drunk enough to talk about what happened.

"The man, the myth, the legend," Claire said, hefting her briefcase once again. "Wait. Lemme grab that." Leon reached a hand down.

"I got it." Snappily. On reflex. As if realizing her tone, she softened. "Just... get the back hatch open for me." Pause. "Please."

It wasn't Claire's style to let people do anything for her any more. It wasn't in her best interest to appear weak. Not even for handsome men that her brother might even approve of.

Thankfully, Leon took no exception to her tone and did as she asked. Claire hoisted her suitcase and bumped it into the back of the bronco with her hip.

Same with her bookbag, before forcing it closed.

She wasn't supposed to be weak, she thought as she climbed into the passenger side, adjusted her seat. She tried not to let Leon catch her looking at him. Why did Chris's friends have to be so fucking handsome all of the time?

It could have been anyone, she thought as she turned hastily away, looking out the window as the campus shrank away. Anyone at all. But it was Leon.

There was a time when she would refuse to talk to anyone; now she fielded his curious, innocent question like a true social pro. What was her major? Was she taking any electives? Did she play a sport? She answered them all with short polite answers before he grew quiet. He turned on the radio.

She chewed at a hangnail, then she asked him, point blank, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Leon worried at the steering wheel suddenly. "Huh?"

"A girlfriend. Woman. Wife?" He looked too young to have married, but what did she know? "Or are you gay--"

"No," Leon said hastily. "I mean, no. I don't have a... a girlfriend. And I'm not gay." He glanced at her, struggling to see past the veil of her messy red bangs. Questioning.

But Claire just closed her eyes and said, "Okay."

#Resident Evil #Claire Redfield #Leon Kennedy #Alternate Universe #Alternate Timeline #fanfiction #my writing

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stephenjaymorrisblog · 3 years

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The naked truth.

Goodbye, Orange Ape

(Epilogue for a Wanna-be Autocrat)

By Stephen Jay Morris.

11/08/20

There is a breeze wafting across the nation in a collective sigh of relief. Saturday morning, I was doing some gardening in our backyard. At around 11:30 a.m., EST, Pamela came outside, her tablet in hand and a big smile across her face. She called out to me.

“Honey! The news site, Politico, called the race! Nevada’s six votes went to Biden. He won!” We embraced and kissed, happy. It was a really nice moment.

It’s nice to witness national exuberance for a change. However, at the back of my mind sits the bitter taste of subjective reality. Yay! My joy will last for 24 hours, but then it’s back to the same old grind. This period reminded me of the night Nixon resigned. There was dancing in the streets on that historic summer night in 1974, though I don’t remember how I felt.

Two years earlier, in 1972, kids were jumping and hollering with joy in the hallways of my Alma Mater, Fairfax High School. When I asked what was going on, someone shouted, “George C. Wallace just got shot! Yeah!” Our fifth period teacher chided the jubilant class, “A man just got shot! There is nothing to celebrate! What’swrong with you kids!?” Governor Wallace from Alabama was a renowned racist. He was a segregationist who ran for president in 1968. One of his most famous quotes was, “The next Hippie is a dead Hippie!” Like Trump, he was a miserable right winger. While running for president, he got shot by a lone gunman, Artie Bremer, on May 15, 1972. Wallace would be in wheelchair for the rest of his life. During the protest of the 1972 Democratic Convention, the Zippies (an offshoot of the Yippies), held a wheelchair race; the contestants wore Artie Bremer masks!

We are not out of the proverbial woods yet. Trump has just over two months left as a lame schmuck prez. After Biden takes office, the USA will experience a slow, difficult restoration; perhaps, it will take years. His top priority is to destroy this pandemic. Meanwhile, the ne'er-do-well, current president will use the judicial system in an attempt to sue his way to victory. Trump is so fucking stupid that he thinks loyalty means breaking the law on his behalf. In reality, the fact that he appointed these judges is irrelevant. They must follow the law or be dismissed from the Bench. He really thinks that those judges will bend the law as a favor owed to him.

Then, there are his supporters. Seventy million of them voted for him. Yeah...they will elicit some violent backlash, but they are outnumbered and outgunned. Blood will be spilled. But more blood is spilled, every day, from gang fights. They are going to have temper tantrums and break a few windows; even plot kidnappings of Democratic office holders. His supporters are so fucking moronic, they never consider that the FBI has undercover agents infiltrating their stupid groups. One by one, they will vanish into oblivion. A lot of Trumpers will ultimately deny that they ever supported him.

There is one positive thing that Trump brought us: the awareness of mental illness. Most of us never heard of the term, “Narcissistic Personality Disorder,” until he became president. The USA, essentially, is indifferent to mental health.

He also made Americans aware of Russian espionage in the USA. Under Trump, that fact is, sadly, a “positive.”

So, what now? Biden reminds me of the late president, Dwight Eisenhower. a nice, grandfatherly figure. Vice president Harris may be the first woman and bi-racial person in the Executive Branch but, keep in mind, progressives will be disappointed in her and in Biden, as well. They are each left of center, but not ultra left. Biden wants to work with the Republicans in government. You’d think, after all these years, that liberals would have learned that right wingers are duplicitous shitheads. They are not going to play nice. All this bullshit about uniting the country will not materialize. The reason the country was viewed as united after September 11th was because the left was scared shitless that they would be put in concentration camps. So, they kept quiet. America united is a Liberal wet dream.

Me? I will have a nice, four years of rest. On this blog, I will write exclusively about things I am interested in. I hate politics and always will. There are more important subjects to explore.

#fuck trump #anti-trump #poets on tumblr #stephenjaymorris #American Politics

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mcelroy96frye-blog · 5 years

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

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It looked at what you're saying you're kind of stopping money I think it's social security but then you say if it gets some then they fight the guy who gets me money and we really need them to do that some arranging it because I see what happens it's a good fight and you're saying it the whole time and you wouldn't know it right on the head and I kind of missed it it wasn't really pushing for it and people should be but they're not it's a huge huge huge fight it destroys practically anybody that helps you it's almost none of them that can do anything for you and that's why you said we have to be involved and you're telling them and you'll figure out who's the power up in the DC and stuff as opposed to sit here in your ass with your thumbs up it and Mac is doing that and nobody else has stepped up to the plate and he's figured out he's in power and Trump has they're supposedly helping him now they're not but Max is attacking them because he wants to gather it all so really he's the guy in power but he's not doing much because he's going around stepping on people that help him

I know that's important to know and the max are doing it a lot of Max tribes and plans but not the moa so I'm going to try and get the scooter lot through because with the scoot alive almost all of them can go places even though they suck real bad correctly everybody it's like really bad for the max because they have real money and we don't have much money it's a waste of time you just start fights with people like them and they don't want to go through it so we're looking at it they were selling more like tons of the motorcycle car lots of them have licenses and can't afford the insurance and can't afford the car this car is low maintenance it's very fast and zippy the tires don't cost a ton and don't wear down much and a low gas consumption too really that is a huge huge sell item right now for morlock it is about 60 miles per gallon I'm putting the hybrid out out of s y m m and we also have a hard knock version that's gas it gets about 50 to 60 and tons of those are selling it's the top seller where's my husband wants to be involved somehow and Max don't want to involved in hard knock kicker 5150 and you can say all sorts of things they say but really they're afraid to it's fear okay

They're giant giant courses of people who want him to do well at selling the vehicle he's wondering what to do with it and he has all sorts of ideas hard not kicker 5150 meetups hard knock kick her 5150 restaurants and hunts that they go with the bikes too have the car show up and we're hiring people to do it and we're handing the car and they're testing it out and they're having their friends ride it and drive it with a girl and or kid and tons of people love it it is an intense car it sounds like a Harley it is really fun you would just be amazed at how much fun it is he loves cars that you can feel the rumble and hear it it's kind of that way can I have the strange miscreant looking in Boss incredible loud okay. And yes I mean just looking you know appearance wise he wants to have something to do with it and someone has to come up with something this is miserable he says he has a little to do with it with the bike but that's not having much to do with it or earning him anything and hard not kick her 5150 is always been known to be owned by morlock and someone has to step up to the plate other than those two and say they're faking it you know DJ wants to just can't get it together I guess and it's too small for an auto plant over there you have one line and it'll pump out like two cars a day he agrees too it's like a shed for a motorcycle. Also you became aware of something we're going to need to start doing this stuff pretty soon he wants them to go look at properties and he can do that he'd like to get paid this time and he has a way of doing that he says it's for hard now kick her 5150 and he knows that he's probably misrepresenting but we're always on top of it but Max don't want to sit here so it's kind of a position right there we're looking at a lot of that stuff most of what we say out loud never happens and I'd like to fight all that because it's something that's worth fighting he's going to help now

Hera

I hear you Zeus and I'm on it and I'm going after them hard follow the stuff they're doing here and elsewhere they're selling tons and tons of stuff globally and it's starting to seep in actually you can see them using products they're not huge they're not the chairs here but some chairs and some smoking devices a lot of cigars not the one there but there's a whole bunch of stuff that's sneaking in the morning sneaks in the better and Walmart is falling down and these people admit we can't have that and we can't and we keep competing so hard that we can't stay at work so we're doing that we're taking those over and we're sending lawyers out he says it's probably another time for right now for a huge wave of Realtors and we need to buy a realty and Thor Freya set out where so Zeus Hera a requesting any volunteers, and goo Oya volunteer and we know what they mean we want them to sign up and we want them to get their people to sign up so we're going to go ask them to corral some if you don't mean try and ask them to sign up get them to do real estate out there you need to buy up tons of it in Africa of course as well all over the world we need to have tons of real estate agents and we need to have tons of restaurants and stores purchased and we're going to rent the quick renovations and bring it up to the health code and clean up all their equipment and remove and replace what is not good tons of it is not electrically sound and we do come in and we put new controls in and it takes a little less time than putting in new because we don't have to manufacture it and we are doing that and we are taking over the company so make the controls so we can pump it out and we're going in and pulling out that sewer and pew it's all over this town and I think Sebastian has a business idea that we might help support somehow and we might help this Jamie chomo thing work it's a s***** job but our son could do something like dispatch it would come up with s*** on them and oldest woman to be hopeful it's a terrible job it's really stinks but tons of these fields need to be rebuilt and they weren't built in the first place correctly and he could run an excavator as a matter of fact and it's a really s***** job we can wear respiratory says or even scuba and we do know they like drinking with that it's also something they do in those machines I have filtered air and he seen it and it works it has to be done on the islands so much dust so we're trying for that it's a good business we're trying to get him a leg up and we're going to probably get him in business and do it ourselves cuz they're just going to sit here and s*** it says it doesn't mind cuz he's trying to find us and see who we are he's looking around going I don't know where any are at all and he's one so they're both laughing we're going to start that up and I'm putting that in now so I can smell right now is s*** goes into the water from the septic by the way it should have sewer and so we can donate a few sewer plants that's something too that we can do for real what's going on now too A lot of people can't stand it and stinks so bad here

So we're starting to think about landing other things like that and opportunities to build things and we're seeking out vacant lots and factories and to build things they're doing it all over the place and the East Coast but the warlock is taking over the East Coast by the way they filtered out and they're getting attacked by Max and we have to be there so we're going to start our infiltration now and other

It's so class action lawsuits that our son is involved with and doesn't know about we're going to check on the status of those they've been sitting there forever they get stymied too I think it's because of trump because he's a bum so we need to go after Trump before he loses all the stuff to Mac and Trump is doing that actually and he's fighting everyone else because he's an idiot and doesn't use people correctly or at all and we see the problem is too small they're bringing lawsuits against him and we're going to sue all sorts of people today tons of them I'm bringing up the list now and Thor is telling me that we have to remind ourselves of time and zoo says it doesn't matter how much time each one takes because the Intel is here if we have some involvement it's better than none and Thor immediately agrees and do that was the answer and his son believes it too of course so we're going to town here and we can get the job done and he wants to see some results so he wants us to pick one outside of the class action lawsuits because if those are dog down it might be dog down on the same lines as the ones that we are it's kind of going that way a little bit nobody's really standing up so we're looking around and we're trying to find a lawsuit that might work even small ones submitting small ones every day all over the United States and some in Asia's sister begging for stuff and that would help open our sites up to other things which are coming down the pike and other avenues would dress up as an Asian even today if we watch that lawsuit today he'll jump right in his truck and run down the street and eat a whole bunch of soy sauce so I'm going to go ahead and do that

Bitol and goddess wife

It says that there's some serious charges and serious lawsuits that can be brought against them and all over the place but from really Rhode Island forwards and you can see them forcing to sell the house forcing to go to Asia forcing to drag around and spend his money and they're serious lawsuits and it's against a regime that's no longer in power which is true it just so happens to be Trump's regime that fell out of power in China and even though you'd be suing them you'd be actually suing his personnel actually Chinese people who are doing it and Trump says he's okay with that and it should be because you're actually fighting them fiercely they come out and they wipe you out and they white back out and you're silly people also forced him to buy this particular bike actually going to make a list of suits and going to have Uriel and goddess wife and Poseidon and got his wife and all of other fathers and mothers from those countries sending the lists of lawsuits and one of them would be against Sandy Wong who is constantly threatening our son and others who say that $25 and small claims court it's so old he says that they probably wouldn't accept it in court but we're going to go ahead and try for it cuz she out now did not pay and there's several like that just have a lawsuits against Asian people who owe him money. There's a big lawsuit that we're missing he meant some of some money once it was about $100 and it was Garth and he said Garth you don't have to pay me back you can work it off but Garth has been stealing his voice and using it in music videos using it in songs and it sells because of his personality we'd like to see Garth but it's really the record company that encouraged him and it's the people that stole it from him and Christian and good faith and Garth can't come up with the money he's poor and his indigent, and his repulsed it repelled and he is oppressed and he easily proven because he looks like a bomb all the time and he's in the woods and he made a verbal agreement that he couldn't keep and in this case I'm going to send him letters and such it says he's not responsible for what happened because he is a victim as well and ask him if he wants to join the lawsuit so my son says you should probably put that in a clear summary and larger type fonts in the front and you can go larger you can't go smaller and we know that it has to be 11 or bigger and I think they're trying to change it to 12 but it should be and he says that Garth will understand it you put in a summary we do that but he says put the legal summary underneath it and we do know how to write it properly and say this is for leaving and then you say this is for attorneys at law and people in the lawyer business and says courts and justices and we're going to do that for Garth and we'll say what he can be awarded and things like that and he says you sign off right away cuz he's going after the military and actually our son says he doesn't do that himself and he wants to have some money and wants to hang out and have be friends and go do things and stuff with Ken to and it's miserable and they have to do something so we're going to do that now might actually help Asia

Bitol and Goddess Wife

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