#the homophobic guy was not mentioned again despite being in the band??

[guideaus]

anyways, I'm dropping how do we relationship

#personal #obligatory nice to see lgbt media. and in that respect it honestly was fine #but the character developments were off and conflicts in the plot seemed out of place and things got resolved in weird ways #the blonde girl keeps causing problems for some reason #the homophobic guy was not mentioned again despite being in the band?? #and the main girls never gave me any reason to like them being together #i never wanted to see them get thru things and it never feels satisfying when theyre done w smth #the characters are barely fleshed out at all and now theres love rival for both women??? #the two were also presented as opposites but they basically share the same flaws. nanami touko/Midori Oonishi/shima style #probably more stuff i cant remember

[sunflowervolvimp3]

42 Hours

Content: an enemies to lovers au in which Harry and Y/N are forced into a cross country road trip to make it to their best friends’ wedding on time

Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 20k 

A/N: I actually cannot believe that this is finally being posted over almost a month of working on it!! originally, I was going to make this one long stand alone fic, but once I hit 35k with no end in sight, I decided to split it into two parts so that it would be easier to read for you guys.  I’m hoping to have part 2 posted within a week, so keep an eye out for it!! this fic was partially inspired by this post by @avhrodite​ (thank you miss bailey!!) and can I just say that I had so much fun writing it!! I love road trips!! it makes me so sad that I had to split this fic because there are so many fun music scenes in the next part but those will all come in due time!! I would also like to give a big thank you to miss andrea @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​ and miss alex @darthstyles​ for putting up with me bouncing ideas off of them and for proof reading for me!! and miss andrea again for editing this stunning header pic!! also everyone I tagged is a wonderful writer and if you’re looking for more to read after reading this then I HIGHLY suggest taking a look through their masterlists. and as always, if you like this fic, please like and reblog it!! and shoot me a message!! feedback is always appreciated, not just by me, but by all content creators <3

{masterlist}

also!! if you want to set the mood for a road trip with Harry, here is a link to the playlist that is mentioned and referenced in this fic!!

When she was a little girl, Y/N’s grandmother had told her about Murphy’s Law.  Grandma Sarah’s favourite activity was staring at her granddaughter over the kitchen counter, a knife in one hand and half an onion that she’d been cutting in the other, spouting various wisdoms at the young girl, who would often be sitting and peeling vegetables for her.  The old lady had hoped that, after being lectured enough times on life’s difficulties, Y/N might be able to avoid making the same mistakes that she had made in her own time.  She always had a list of advice that she’d cycle through, as if she were a record on a loop.

“Always look both ways before crossing the street.  Your great uncle Albert didn’t, and he never regained full function of his left hand.”

“Beauty fades, but there’s no shelf life on your mind.”

“The grass is always greener on the other side, so stop staring at it, and focus on taking care of your own lawn.”

All of the advice was, by any accounts, useful for anyone to know, especially a young girl.  Of course, sometimes the advice would get a little scrambled after Grandma Sarah had had a few glasses of wine, but even her tipsy thoughts were useful to Y/N in her later years.  To this day, Y/N still sets a glass of water on her nightstand before going out to a bar, and her hungover self is always grateful the next morning.  And Y/N had yet to find anything that smelled as sweet as a vanilla dabbed behind her ears and on her wrists when she runs out of perfume.  However, perhaps the most important piece of advice Grandma Sarah ever gave her came one afternoon when Y/N was eleven years old, and her older cousin Grace was due to get married the next week.

Grandma Sarah had cracked egg after egg into her mixing bowl, always without getting any unwanted pieces of shell in the egg whites, and gave her granddaughter a long look across the kitchen counter.

“When you get married, Y/N,” She had said, voice firm. “Remember Murphy’s Law.  Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment.  When Murphy’s Law comes into play, there’s nothing you can do except roll with the punches.”

Eleven year old Y/N had nodded her head seriously, as she always did when her grandmother told her seemingly important things.  The advice, despite its usefulness, however, didn’t stick around in her head, and Murphy’s Law didn’t cross Y/N’s mind for fourteen years.

It takes fourteen years for Y/N, who is standing in front of a flight check-in at LAX, two large suitcases next to her, one of which contains two gold wedding bands, passport in hand, and a distressed look on her face, to remember the law her grandmother had once told her about.

“When you get married, Y/N…anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment.”

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Y/N pushes the echoing words of her grandmother out of her head. “I’m sorry, just—” She gives a pained smile to the lady working the check in. “Can you explain that to me again, please?”

The lady also takes a deep breath, the smile on her ruby tinted lips just as pained as Y/N’s. “There’s a storm system moving through Utah and Colorado.  These systems have the potential to become tornadoes, and because of that, the conditions for flying are too dangerous right now, so all flights through that area are grounded until further notice.”

“So my flight is cancelled?” Y/N holds up the ticket in her hand that’s stamped with LAX – JFK. “This flight, this flight to New York, which is nowhere near Utah—that’s cancelled?”

The check-in lady, whose name tag reads Brynn, gives another tight smile. “Yes, ma’am.  It’s cancelled.”

“Okay, no, I’m sorry, Brynn, but that doesn’t work for me.” Y/N shakes her head fiercely as the manic rush of emotions through her begins to set in.  The denial, she finds, keeps the oncoming panic at bay, and so she decides to focus on that to ground herself. “My best friend is getting married in the Catskills in one week.” Y/N holds up one finger, as if her words are hard for Brynn to understand. “That’s one week from today.  I’m the maid of honour.  I have to be there to help organize, keep her calm, and make sure she actually makes it down the aisle, because—between you and me—she’s got some commitment issues—” The more Y/N speaks, the more her panic begins to spill out in her words, like a dam with a leak that’s about to burst. “And she forgot the goddamn wedding rings, so I have those too, and I just—I really need to get to New York, like, now. Right now.”

Y/N finally pauses to take a sharp breath, and Brynn, who had been waiting for her to finish, speaks again, her voice flatter than before.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, ma’am, but as I said, all flights are grounded right now.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, Y/N takes another deep breath.  Roll with the punches, her grandmother had told her.  What else is there to do? “Okay.” Y/N is careful to keep her voice in check when she speaks again. “Alright.  Do you know when they’ll be ungrounded?”

“As I’ve said,” Brynn’s smile is more of a grimace now, and Y/N knows that she’s treading on thin ice. “All flights are grounded until further notice.  We’re not sure when we’ll be able to open them again.  It could be a day, or it could be five.  If you’d like, I can put you down on a list to be called when flights are available again, but I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

“Let’s do that, then.” Y/N relents in a tired voice, already making plans to pick up a coffee on her way back to her apartment.  In the back of her mind, she begins to wonder if she has any Baileys Irish cream liqueur left in her kitchen cabinet—and if 8:30 A.M. is too early to be drinking Baileys with her coffee.

…

It takes Y/N two cups of coffee with Baileys (it had been 10 A.M. by the time she arrived home, thanks to L.A. traffic, and she had decided that 10 A.M. was a fine time to drink when one’s flight gets cancelled indefinitely) to work up the courage to call Jo and tell her that she isn’t sure if she’ll be able to make it to the wedding.

Josephine Waters, or Jo to anyone who doesn’t want to get punched in the arm, has been Y/N’s best friend since the girls were five years old.  They became fast friends on the first day of kindergarten, as Jo liked how Y/N could already colour inside the lines, and Y/N liked how Jo tackled a boy who tugged on Y/N’s pigtails.  From the very beginning, the two were a perfect match for each other; where Y/N was reserved, Jo was wild.  Where Jo was disorganized, Y/N was focused.  Each girl balanced the other in the most natural way, and it’s this fact that Y/N and Jo credit for the two of them staying friends for twenty years. As they grew up together, they grew together, taking the very best traits from the other and using it to help themselves develop.  Y/N had been the first person that Jo came out to, confessing to her best friend during an eighth grade sleepover in a quiet and nervous voice.  To Jo’s pleasure, Y/N had been completely supportive, and returned the favour from the first day of kindergarten by punching a boy in the nose for calling Jo a homophobic slur.  Jo helped Y/N through her parent’s divorce.  Y/N helped Jo manage her ADHD.  Jo talked Y/N through discovering her bisexuality in university. Y/N answered every 3 A.M. phone call to comfort Jo after a panic attack.  In every sense of the word, the two girls had been there for each other.

And now Y/N is going to miss Jo’s wedding.

The harsh realization digs a pit in her stomach as she opens her phone and clicks on Jo’s name.  It’s noon in L.A., which means it’s 3 P.M. in New York time, and Y/N knows Jo will answer.  She always does.

Sure enough, after three short rings, Jo’s voice chirps through the phone. “Hey, Y/N!  Has your flight landed already?”

“No, there’s—there’s been an issue.” Y/N downs another gulp of her coffee, wishing she had added more Baileys when she had the chance, and clears her throat before continuing. “There’s, um, a storm in Utah, and apparently it’s bad, and so all flights from L.A. to New York are grounded until further notice.”

Jo makes a scoffing noise, and Y/N can practically picture the indignant look on her face that she’s seen so many times before. “That’s ridiculous.  Did you tell them that New York is nowhere near Utah?”

“Uh huh.”

“What about that my wedding is in one week?”

“I told them that, too. Brynn didn’t seem to care.”

“Bitch.” Jo mutters under her breath. “Okay, just wait a second, Laure just walked through the door, so I’m putting you on speakerphone—”

Y/N hears rustling on the speaker, as well as muttering in the background as Jo speaks to her fiancée, and then Jo’s voice is back, sounding slightly more distant.

“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”

“That’s awful, Y/N.” Laure’s voice is laced with stress, and Y/N can only imagine how much anxiety this information is adding to her already full plate. “They won’t tell you when flights will be leaving again?”

“Nope.” Y/N pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her free arm around them, leaning her head against the back of her couch.

“Okay, well, planes aren’t the only way to get here.” Laure says, always the more rational out of the two. “Maybe a car—?”

“Y/N doesn’t have one.” Jo chimes in, a hint of teasing in her voice, despite the serious problem that’s in discussion. “She’s scared of driving—”

Y/N sits up, an indignant look on her face. “I’m not scared of driving!” She says hotly, setting her empty coffee mug on the table with a thud. “I just hate L.A. traffic, and honestly, there’s no point!  I can walk to work, and Uber anywhere else I need to go!  A car would be completely useless to me!”

“Except now, when you’re about to miss your best friend’s wedding.” Jo points out. “What about renting one?”

Y/N sighs, her moment of indignation already fizzled out. “I tried that already.  There’s nothing available for a cross country trip.”

“And the drive is so long.” Laure murmurs, and Y/N knows it’s more for Jo’s benefit than hers. “It’s over forty hours.  She can’t do that by herself; it’s not safe.”

“But—”

“Look, Jo, don’t worry about this, alright?” Y/N cuts across her best friend’s anxious voice, assuming her usual role of protector. “I’ll figure this out.  I promise you; I will make it to your wedding on time, looking pretty in my dress, and with your wedding bands.  I promise.”

“We’ll keep thinking about it and see what we can come up with.” Laure promises through the phone, her voice sounding further and further away. “This is just—it’s a bump in the road, but it’s fine.  We can work around this.  We’ll find a way.”

…

The way that Laure finds for Y/N pounds on her door at 7:30 A.M. the next morning.

Y/N, like any exhausted and stressed out adult who has already begun her ten days of vacation time that she booked off for the wedding, is fast asleep in her bed when she hears the knocking.  The loud noise pulls her out from her dreams abruptly, and she cracks one eye open, squinting through the sunlight that’s lighting up her room.  When the knock echoes through her apartment again, she pulls herself from her sheets with a groan, grabbing her robe from the back of her door and tying it around herself as she makes her way to the front hallway to yell at whoever has the audacity to wake her up.

When she opens the door, Harry Styles is peering down at her with an irritated look on his face.

“Took you long enough, Y/N.” He rolls his eyes as he speaks, finally stepping back from the door that he had been pounding on a moment ago. “Are you ready to go?”

Y/N rubs her eyes, suppressing a yawn as she does so. “Styles, I have no idea what you’re talking about.  What are you doing here?” She demands.  She doesn’t have the energy to deal with him right now, she thinks, let alone the mental capacity to listen to anything he has to say.

Harry crosses his arms across his chest, and it’s then that Y/N notices the duffel bag strewn over his shoulder. “It’s a forty-two hour drive from L.A. to the Catskills.” Harry’s eyes scan over Y/N’s appearance, the very corner of his strawberry pink lips twitching, and Y/N tightens her robe around herself with a glare.

“A drive?” Y/N asks, uncertainty growing in her voice as she crosses her arm over her chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Your flight was cancelled, right?” Harry’s voice grows more impatient as Y/N’s half asleep brain struggles to piece together what’s happening. “So was mine, so I decided to drive to the wedding, and then Laure called me last night, begging me to take you with me.” He shrugs a bit, fixing his sunglasses on top of his head as his jade eyes scan over her appearance one more time. “Not my first choice of road trip partner, but I don’t think the best man can say no to bringing the maid of honour.  And splitting the cost of gas will be nice.”

“Okay, wait, I…” Y/N’s finally coming out of her fog of exhaustion, and the newfound clarity of her mind is causing a newfound pit to develop in her stomach. “Laure and Jo didn’t tell me any of this.”

“Well, I expect they’re a bit busy, given that they’re getting married in a week.” Harry adjusts the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder with a sharp sigh. “Look, are you ready to go or not?  It’s over a five day drive, so we need to leave as soon as possible.”

“I—yeah—” Y/N nods before taking a hesitant step back from the doorway, positioning herself to the side so that Harry can get by her. “I just have to get dressed and grab a couple last minute things, so…come in, I guess.”

Harry flashes an insincere smile to Y/N as he steps into her apartment, his eyes darting around at the furniture and home decor.  Y/N watches as his gaze lingers on her library of books, her yellow bicycle leaning against the wall, and every other little touch of herself that she likes her home to have, and she can see the judgement that’s clearly apparent in his eyes.

“You can sit, if you want.” She mutters, turning on her heel to go back to her bedroom. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

The first thing Y/N does when she shuts her bedroom door behind herself is assess the situation in the analytical way that usually calms her.  Alright.  So a road trip across the country isn’t exactly ideal, and a road trip across the country with Harry Styles is even less ideal.  But, at the present moment, being stuck in a car with Harry seems to be the only sure way that she’ll be able to make it to Jo’s wedding on time. And for Jo, Y/N would put up with anything.  Even Harry.

As she rummages through her drawers for some leggings and a tank top, Y/N wonders what she could have possibly done to bring this much bad karma into her life.  While she gets dressed, her mind flickers back to Murphy’s Law, how everything that can go wrong will go wrong, in the worst possible way, and then she thinks about being in a confined space with Harry for five days, and—yeah.  That seems to be the worst possible thing she can think of.

Y/N remembers the first moment she’d met Harry seven years ago, and the unfortunate circumstances under which that meeting had happened.  Jo and Laure had just barely met back then, and Jo had begged Y/N to come out on a double date with her and “this really hot girl from my women studies class who I’m, like, 83% sure swings my way.”

Y/N had groaned at that comment, flopping back on her bed in the tiny dorm that she and Jo shared. “No! I have an essay due in three days that I haven’t even started!”

Jo rolled her eyes as she flopped down on Y/N’s bed as well, ignoring her own half-made bunk that was across the small room, favouring her best friend’s bed like she always did. “We both know you’re not starting that essay until the day before it’s due, and that it’s just an excuse because you don’t want to go!”

“I don’t want to go.” Y/N had agreed with a sharp and fervent nod.  She shut her laptop and pushed it to the side of her bed, knowing from experience that she wasn’t going to be able to focus and argue at the same time. “Why would I want to hang out with a complete stranger while you make googly eyes at a girl from your class?”

“Okay, first, I don’t make googly eyes.” Jo made a face at that comment, nudging Y/N’s calf with her own foot. “And second, he’s her best friend from high school, and he’s coming to visit all the way from London!”

“So?  He’s still a stranger!” Y/N pointed out, her eyes drifting to the sticky note covered novel beside her.  She picks it up and begins to flip through the marked pages as she speaks. “Knowing where he’s from doesn’t change that!”

“It should, because he’s only going to be here for a week, and Laure almost cancelled the date because she doesn’t want to miss spending time with him—” Jo grabbed one of Y/N’s pillows and tossed it at her arm, knocking the book from her hands. “Focus! So I said that he could come, but she said that she didn’t want him to be left out, so I said that I happen to have an incredibly beautiful and witty best friend who would be able to entertain Harry while we all hang out together.”

Y/N inhaled deeply as she gave Jo a withering look. “Did you already tell her I’m going?”

Jo, in return, gave Y/N her most dazzling smile. “Yes.  We’re meeting them for dinner at 7.”

Y/N shakes herself from her memories as she runs to her bathroom to toss her toiletries back into the bag she’d taken them out of the day before, working as quickly as she can. It does her no good to think of Harry in the past, she thinks, because the present Harry is currently sitting in her living room, probably snooping through her stuff, and the longer she takes to get ready to go, the more he’ll go through.  Not that there’s anything incriminating in her apartment, really—or at least, nothing incriminating in her living room.  When Y/N makes it back to her bedroom, however, to quickly zip up her suitcase, she does make sure she grabs her favourite vibrator from the box under her bed, tucking it between her half-folded underwear.  If she’s going to be gone for a week, she’ll need something to help her relax.

Within a few more minutes, Y/N is repacked and ready to go.  Her hunter green bridesmaid dress is carefully arranged on the very top of her clothes in her suitcase, all of her makeup and toiletries are packed inside, and Jo and Laure’s wedding rings are secured in little velvet boxes stashed between her socks.  As far as physical preparedness goes, Y/N is ready to go on a coast to coast road trip. As far as mental preparedness goes, however…that’s the thing that Y/N’s not quite sure about.

…

“What are you doing?”

Y/N glances at Harry from the corner of her eye, her hand still half stretched out to the radio dials in his car.  Although Harry’s green eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses, and his face is turned towards the long road in front of them, he still somehow manages to catch her motions, and it irritates her to no end.

“I’m changing the radio station?” Y/N answers after a moment, giving him a puzzled look. “I don’t know why you listen to this weird oldies station, but—”

“First of all—” Harry’s hands turn the steering wheel slightly to guide his car over the curve of the road, his jaw twitching as a smirk works its way onto his pink lips. “This isn’t a radio station, it’s my Spotify playlist.  I put a Bluetooth connection in Stevie a year ago. Secondly—”

“Stevie?” Y/N repeats incredulously, twisting her whole body as best she can to look at Harry straight on. “You named your car?  You’re one of those guys?”

Harry finally gives Y/N a flicker of a glance, the glare obvious in his eyes even behind his dark sunglasses.  He turns his attention back to the road before replying. “Secondly—” He continues from before, ignoring her comment as his right hand readjusts the gear shift. “Driver picks the music.”

Y/N makes a face, the corners of her lips pulling down into a grimace as she settles back into the passenger seat with her arms crossed. “So we’re just going to listen to ‘Tiny Dancer’ for the entire drive, are we?”

“Not the entire drive, no.” Harry flicks on his turn signal with a ringed hand before shoulder checking to change lanes.  Y/N glances at him, her eyes training on the strained muscles in his neck as Harry continues. “We’ll listen to ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,’ too.”

“Great.” Y/N exhales slowly and presses her head back into the seat’s headrest, closing her eyes as Elton John’s voice continues to float through the speakers. “Really looking forward to it.”

“You know, maybe you should try to sleep.” Harry says, his voice prickled with irritation as Elton John bleeds into The Zombies. “I think you’ll be in a better mood after you take a nap.”

Y/N readjusts her crossed arms as she mutters a short reply. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Still, she shuts her eyes again, twisting her body towards the window in an attempt to get comfortable enough to sleep.  Being in the car with Harry is already giving her a throbbing migraine, and they’ve only been on the road for less than two hours.  Sleeping through most of the trip will probably be the only way she’ll be able to survive it.

Despite that realization, however, her phone vibrates in her lap three minutes later, pulling her away from her thoughts.  Y/N glances down at the now lit screen, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she registers the name on the message.  Opening her phone quickly, she reads over the reply as a guilty feeling begins to build in her stomach.

BRANT: Hey, what are you doing tonight?  Want to grab some dinner?

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” Y/N’s head snaps back up, her eyes jerking in Harry’s direction.  Like before, he’s watching her from the corner of his eye, catching every one of her movements, and the constant surveillance is annoying to no end.

Harry, it seems, is either oblivious to her annoyance, or is choosing to ignore it. “I asked what’s wrong. You have a weird look on your face.” Harry’s blunt words are accompanied by the sound of him tapping his ring covered fingers against the gear shift. “Everything alright?  Is it Laure and Jo?”

“No, it’s just—” Y/N glances down at her phone again, fingers poised over her keyboard as she crafts a reply in her head. “It’s no one.”

Harry snorts once, a short and harsh sound that grates against Y/N’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “I don’t buy that for a second.”

“It’s no one to you.” Y/N updates her retort, turning her full attention back to her phone. “My personal life is none of your business.”

Y/N: I’m sorry, I can’t!! Caught a last minute ride to New York with somebody.  Maybe once I’m back?

“Personal life, huh?” Harry clicks his tongue once, and the childish noise is even more irritating than his snort. “What, you can’t talk to me about whoever you’re shagging?”

The blunt remark hits Y/N like a shot to the chest, and she sputters for a moment as she struggles to form a response. “I—we’re not—” Taking a moment to gather herself and clear her throat quickly, Y/N avoids Harry’s gaze as her cheeks begin to burn. “We’re not like that. We’ve just…had a few dates, that’s all. There’s nothing…official.”

“You don’t need to be official to have a shag, now, do you?” Harry lifts his hand from the gear shift to fix his sunglasses, settling it back down on his jean covered thigh once he’s done. “If you don’t want to date the bloke—”

“I didn’t say that.” Y/N cuts over him, pulling herself from her embarrassment enough to give him a cold glare. “He’s very nice—”

“Boring, you mean—”

“And I—this is none of your business!” Feeling the flush of embarrassment rise back to her cheeks, Y/N once again turns her attention to her passenger seat window, avoiding Harry’s pressing gaze. “I’m done talking about this.”

Harry gives an indifferent shrug. “Whatever.” He says casually, tapping his finger against his thigh as his shoulders once again lift slightly beneath his fitted black t-shirt. “I just feel bad for the guy, that’s all.”

The comment is bait. And the thing is, Y/N knows it’s bait.  She knows that the only reason Harry is saying it is to get under her skin and keep her talking about Brant, further embarrassing herself in the process. She’s been around Harry enough to know how he works, and she knows that the only reason he would say that is to bait her.  She knows she shouldn’t take it.  And yet—

“There’s no reason to feel bad for him.” Y/N scoffs as she fidgets with the position of her seatbelt, trying to stop the strap from cutting into her chest. “We’ve been talking for a month, and there’s nothing official happening.  Just because you can’t go that long without trying to stick your dick in someone—”

“You have no idea what I can do, Y/N.  Don’t pretend that you do.” Harry’s tone of voice is just as scoffing as hers, his eyes still set on the road in front of them intently as he gives his sharp response. Y/N watches as he shifts the gears of the car and speeds up, just enough to make the engine roar, but not enough to lose control of the car.  Part of Y/N wistfully wishes that he would just slip up and crash the car, just so she wouldn’t have to continue this conversation.

“All I meant,” Harry continues, unaware of the dark daydreams running through Y/N’s head. “Is that I feel bad that you’re clearly not interested in him, which is proven by the fact that you haven’t wanted him in your bed.”

Irritation flares through Y/N’s body again, stronger than the embarrassment of discussing her sex life (or lack thereof) with Harry, and she half considers just grabbing the steering wheel and yanking it into a passing cliff so she can finish them off herself. “For Christ’s sake, Harry, sex isn’t the only way to—”

“I don’t mean actually having it, that’s not a given.” Harry rolls his eyes from behind his sunglasses as he slows down for a curve in the road, his practiced hands once again changing gears with ease. “You don’t have to fuck him.  But you should want to, especially if you’ve had a month of dates, and you clearly don’t want to.”

Y/N doesn’t hide the incredulous stare of disbelief on her face as she turns to look at him. Harry’s face, though turned towards the road still, has a look of amusement mixed with contemplation on it, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control not to smack the expression off of him. Although there’s the ghost of a smirk on his strawberry coloured lips, his brow is furrowed behind his sunglasses, as if he’s thinking hard about the conversation between them.  Normally, Y/N would be amazed that Harry is thinking hard about anything.  However, given that their conversation is apparently turning into whether or not she wants to have sex with someone, Y/N’s not too thrilled about his sudden investment and serious contemplation of the topic.

Shaking her head decidedly, Y/N finally spits out a finishing phrase. “You don’t know what I want.” She says decidedly, reaching into the backseat to grab the sweater she stashed back there.  She clumsily pulls it over her body without taking off her seatbelt.  Harry keeps the AC cranked as high as he can, and she knows that he’ll kill her if she tries to change it. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know more than you think.” Harry counters, the tip of his tongue running along his bottom lip. “And I’m pretty good at reading body language.  You don’t really want him.  He—what’s his name?”

Despite her better judgement, Y/N answers in a flat voice. “Brant.”

The corners of Harry’s cherry lip twitches. “Brant.  Yeah. It’s clear you don’t really want him, and you’re wasting your time.  You’re wasting his time, too.  Poor Brant.”

“Poor—you’re such an ass, you know that?” Y/N’s irritation bubbles over as she gives Harry a nasty look, her hand squeezing her thigh hard in an attempt to ground herself in their conversation. “You can try to pretend otherwise, but you don’t know anything about me, or him, so—”

“You think I’ve been friends with Laure and Jo this long and haven’t learned anything about you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, risking a glance at her as he presses a heavier foot onto the gas. “I told you, I know more than you think, and that includes your type.”

An incredulous scoff leaves Y/N’s mouth, and she shakes her head in obvious disbelief before responding. “My type.  Right. What is my type, then?  What’s Brant like, exactly, since you seem to know everything?”

Harry goes quiet then, his brow furrowing again as he returns his full attention to the road.  With his incessant chatter gone, the only sounds in the car being “Maps” playing quietly in the background and Harry’s ringed index and forefinger tap on the steering wheel.  Y/N breathes out a long sigh of satisfaction as she relaxes back in her seat, her attention turned back to the blurred landscapes speeding by her window.  Finally, she’s managed to get Harry to stop with his ridiculous assumptions—

“You like someone that’s stable and secure, so he probably works in some corporation, or an office job. Majored in business, I’d think, but has a minor in something like mathematics.” The side profile of Harry’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the thought. “He wants to work his way up in the company, but never wants to actually start anything on his own.  He likes the stability of a blueprint. You’re obsessed with punctuality, so he’s probably always on time to pick you up for dates—and he has to pick you up, because you don’t drive—and your dates are never really dates. Dinners, or movies, or something like that, but they never really have that spark.” Harry’s shoulder lift slightly as he continues to make his conclusions. “Which, honestly, is probably a big reason in why you don’t want to fuck him, because as much as you like stability and safety, you also like the idea of a grand gesture, or something like that.  And you probably split the bill a lot at dinner, right?  Because it just seems fair, but really it’s because you know it’s not a real date.  But it passes the time, and he’s nice, so it’s fine.  But it’s only fine.” Harry licks his lips once more as he collects his next thoughts, his teeth catching his bottom lip just barely as his tongue retreats back into his mouth. “And he’s probably already talking about you coming to meet his family for some holiday.  Not in a romantic way, but just because he likes to plan everything in advance to every minute detail.  Just like you.”

Halfway through Harry’s speech, a flush had begun to creep up Y/N’s neck, continuing to warm her jaw and ears before settling on the apples of her cheeks.  She keeps her eyes trained on her window and her mouth pressed into a tight line, refusing to look at Harry and give him any hint of just how shocked she is that he’s guessed so much.

Harry, however, doesn’t plan on letting her get away from his inquisition. “Well?” He impatiently prompts after a moment, and even though she’s not looking at him, she can feel him looking at her, his emerald irises burning into the back of her head. “Am I right?”

“I—” Y/N clears her throat quickly, but her voice is still strained and tight when she replies. “No.”

Harry hums low in his throat, and his voice is laced with curiosity with he replies. “Really?” The irritating tap of his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music continues. “What did I get wrong?”

“He—” Y/N hates the way her skin is burning from his interrogation, how her voice shrinks smaller and smaller the more she speaks.  If Harry knows her so well, then he knows how much she loves being in control, and in this situation, with Harry managing to pull every one of her most secret inner thoughts and feelings out of her without trouble, she feels anything but in control. “He has a minor in accounting, not mathematics.”

The laugh that leaves Harry’s mouth is loud and bombastic, and his whole body curves over the steering wheel as the sound rolls out of him, his eyes just barely managing to stay on the road while his sunglasses slide down his nose. “Right.” Harry says between belly laughs, his voice stretched out in amusement. “But everything else was spot on?”

Y/N keeps her stiff body turned towards the window, refusing to engage in the conversation any further. That doesn’t stop Harry, however, who fixes his sunglasses as chuckles continue to roll out of him.

“I take it back. Maybe he’s the one wasting your time.” His hand runs through his hair lazily, fixing the curled strands that had fallen into his eyes as he laughed. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to sleep with your bore of a boyfriend—”

“He’s stable!” Y/N breaks her silence to protest Harry’s words, her voice heated. “And he’s not my boyfriend.  We’ve been seeing each other, but we’re not—it’s not exclusive, or—nothing serious—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.  It’s fine.” Harry waves off her arguments with a flick of his tattooed hand. “Besides, like you said, it’s none of my business, right?”

Y/N can practically picture what Harry looks like in this moment.  His chestnut curls are probably a mess from fidgeting with them, and his cheeks are most likely rosy beneath his stubble from the peels of laughter that left his equally red lips a moment ago.  Most infuriatingly of all, his dimples are probably present, making little indentations in his cheeks to show how entertaining he’s found embarrassing her. Bastard, she thinks, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dig into her palms, pressing them into her sides beneath her makeshift blanket.

She refuses to let herself confirm if her suspicions about Harry’s appearance are correct, and instead keeps her gaze on the blurred trees whipping by outside her window. “Right.” She mutters, leaning her head against the headrest as she closes her eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

…

As soon as the paint-peeled door to the motel room swings open, Y/N knows that she’s not going to be sleeping soundly tonight.

She’s not sure what her first hint should have been.  Perhaps it was the half-flickering blue and red light of the Motel 6 sign that should have tipped her off, or the front-desk attendant who looked as though he was hiding a few secrets himself.  When Y/N and Harry had first approached the front desk of the tiny, vaguely mildew-smelling lobby, their clothes rumpled from the drive and their attitudes just as bothered, the employee in the Motel 6 uniform had barely raised an eye at them, not bothering to look up from his computer until Y/N and Harry were directly in front of him.

“Hi.” Harry had said, his voice taking on a cautious but polite tone that, Y/N remembers thinking, she would have appreciated hearing throughout their eight hour drive that day. “We’d like two rooms, please—”

“Here.” The attendant’s gum snapped in his mouth as he reached behind himself and grabbed an old key with a flimsy blue plastic tag from a wall of empty pegs. “Queen sized bed, the first door on the left.  It’ll do you two nicely.”

“Um, no.” Harry cleared his throat loudly as he gave a slight shake of his head. “We need two rooms.”

Finally, the attendant looked towards them, his eyes scanning Harry before Y/N.  The latter had self consciously pulled her sweater around her, as there was something in the attendant’s eyes that had bothered her. “Don’t have two rooms.  I got one room left.  Everything else is booked.”

Harry had glanced at Y/N then, and she knew that his thoughts mirrored hers: there was no way that they’d share a queen bed together.  No way in hell.  They’d barely survived eight hours in the same cramped car without one of them driving them off a cliff.  If Y/N had to share a bed with Harry, even for just one night, she’d probably end up smothering him in his sleep before the first snore left his obnoxious mouth.

“That’s really not an option.” Y/N had stepped forward then, crossing her arms around herself as the attendant’s eyes canvassed her again. “Isn’t there something—”

“Look, lady, I’m telling you what’s available.” The attendant’s eyes continued to flicker between her face and her chest, making Y/N’s skin crawl more and more with every word that fell from his gum-filled mouth. “The room might have a pull out chair—some do, but I couldn’t tell you which.  Now do you want to share the room with him or not?  If you don’t want to share, then I could try to find something else for just you—”

Before Y/N had the opportunity to respond to the lewd suggestion, Harry was already stepping forward, his body angling protectively in front of her own.  She watched from behind as his broad shoulders squared beneath his black t-shirt, his shoulder blades flexing as he straightened up to his full height.  When Harry answered, his voice was just as firm as it was dark, lacking its previous polite tone.

“We’ll take the room.” He had said coldly, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet before tossing a few bills on the front desk. “Thanks for the help.”

Yes, Y/N thinks, all of that should have been a sign for the state of the motel room that they now find themselves standing inside.

The same mildew smell from the lobby surrounds them, permeating through every inch of air that Y/N breathes in. Dust seems to coat every surface as well, with thick layers of it covering the decades old TV and stand, the small coffee table, and the ledge of the window to her right.  To her relief, there is a small arm chair in the corner, which must be the pull out that the attendant had mentioned.  However, her relief is short lived when she sees the ratty beige comforter on the bed, and wonders if maybe sleeping in Harry’s car, which she had sworn to him that she didn’t want to do, might have been the better choice.

Harry shuts the door behind them with a firm thud, turning the deadbolt lock before attaching the chain from the door to the door frame. “Let’s keep that locked, yeah?” He mutters, walking to the window and making sure the beige curtains—everything in the room is a sea of beige, like some sort of khaki coloured nightmare—are pulled closed tightly. “I don’t trust that front-desk prick not to sneak in here.”

Y/N nods, fixing the strap of her duffel bag with her overnight clothes on her shoulder.  She’s not quite sure where to set it down, as everything around them seems to have been sitting stagnant and uncleaned for a while. “Yeah. Thanks, by the way.  For that.”

Harry acknowledges her thanks with a small grunt, barely lifting his head to look at her. “You don’t need to thank me.”

Despite her gratitude for his actions, Y/N can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes at his gruff response. “Jesus, can you not just say you’re welcome?”

Harry chooses to ignore her comment, and instead sets his bag down on the arm chair, unzipping it roughly. “You can take the bed.” He says simply, tossing his sunglasses into his bag before pulling out a small bag filled with what Y/N assumes are toiletries. “I’ll take the pullout.”

“Fine.” Y/N reluctantly sets her own bag down on the creaking bed, pulling back the covers to check for anything unsightly.  To her relief, the interior of the bed looks cleaner than the exterior, and she returns the covers to their previous position before grabbing her phone charger from her duffel.

Harry glances at her as she gingerly sits on the bed and plugs her phone into the wall. “I’m going to shower.” He says slowly, as if gauging her reaction to the simple phrase. “Do you, um, need in there, or—?”

“Nope.” Y/N shakes her head, her cheeks flushing slightly as she checks her messages. “You’re good.” She keeps her eyes glued to her phone until she hears the click of the bathroom door behind Harry, signalling that she’s alone.

Taking advantage of what she knows will be a rare moment of solitude over the next week, Y/N changes from her tank top and leggings into her pajamas, wishing that her past self had realized how likely it would be that she’d be sharing a room with Harry. She’d brought exactly two pairs of pajamas with her on the trip, and neither pairs were something she wanted Harry to see her in.  The first pair, a baby pink silk set she’d bought on a whim from her favourite lingerie shop, is eliminated before Y/N even considers them, leaving her with just her usual casual pajamas.  Unfortunately, Y/N’s usual casual pajamas consist of an old sports bra that she’d had since moving to L.A., and a pair of men’s boxers that she stole from an ex in college.  Still, despite her hesitancy, she knows that plaid boxers and a faded grey sports bra are better than pink silk and lace, and she changes into them quickly before sitting cross-legged on the bed and dialing Jo’s number.

Jo, like she usually does, answers on the third ring, her voice extra chipper to compensate for the verbal lecture that she knows is coming. “Hey, Y/N!  How was driving today?”

“It would have been better if I’d known Harry was driving.” Y/N sighs, rubbing her palm over the cold skin of her exposed thigh. “Shouldn’t I have been informed of that decision?”

“It completely slipped my mind, actually.” Jo says casually, and Y/N can just picture her leaning her chin into her palm. “How was the first day?  Are you calling to ask me to help bury his body in the desert?  Because, like, you know I would in a heart beat, but I think it may put a damper on mine and Laure’s nuptials if my best friend murders her best friend.”

“No one’s been murdered. Yet.” Y/N glances at the bathroom door, the sound of the shower echoing through the vents and into the bedroom. “Although a ‘help me hide the body’ phone call may be coming soon.”

“Uh oh.” Y/N hears something crackling against the speaker, and pictures Jo shifting the phone from one ear to the other. “Is it that bad?”

Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose as she contemplates the easiest way to answer Jo’s question. “He’s such an irritating ass.  He really is.” She lowers her voice, but only slightly.  If Harry’s eavesdropping, she thinks, then let him hear.  It would serve him right. “He wanted to pick a fight over every little thing, and he’s so particular about his car—did you know he named it?  He named it, Jo.  He talks about it like it’s a person!”

A loud sigh echoes through the speaker. “That’s really not that weird, you know.” Jo replies in her best peace keeping voice. “And, by the way, did you know that you’re really the only person who finds Harry irritating?  Laure adores him, and I really like him, and everyone who meets him thinks he’s very thoughtful!”

“Then they haven’t been trapped in a car with him and his playlists for eight hours.” Y/N begins to tap her fingers against her knee in a quick staccato pattern. “He practically interrogated me about Brant today, as if he has any clue about the people I date.”

“Did he?” There’s a trace of curiosity in Jo’s voice now, and Y/N can imagine her leaning forward in interest. “What did he say?”

“He said he thinks he’s boring.” Twisting a lock of her hair behind her ear as she speaks, Y/N leaves her hand resting against her cheek. “He was rude about it, too.  I didn’t ask for his opinion.”

“Well, honestly, Y/N…” Jo’s curiosity twists into hesitation. “Brant isn’t exactly the most thrilling person.  You know that.”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, her cheeks flushing for what seems to be the millionth time that day. “I’m aware of that.  But he didn’t need to be so smug about it!”

“Okay, well, what’s done is done.” Jo says as she takes on her mediator persona once again. “So there’s nothing else to do now except go to sleep, get back in the car tomorrow, and continue driving.”

The sound of the shower stream cuts off, leaving just the pitter patter of rain beginning to hit the roof of the motel as ambiant noise. “I guess.” Y/N mumbles, fidgeting with the waistband of her bra. “I’ll talk to you later.  Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

After the line clicks dead, Y/N flops back on the squeaking mattress and begins to scroll through her phone, opening her work email to check if everything is running okay back home while she’s gone.  On top of all this, the last thing she needs is for her work to completely blow up in her absence.  Within minutes, Y/N becomes so engrossed in her phone that she doesn’t even notice the bathroom door creaking open and Harry walking out with just a towel around his waist.

Until she looks up, and then her mind goes completely blank.

Immediately, Y/N feels overstimulated.  There’s just…so much going on that she doesn’t even know where to look first, let alone have the ability to remind herself that she shouldn’t even be looking at Harry like this in the first place.  

Harry’s curls are soaking wet, curling down around his flushed cheeks in a way that, if it were anyone else, she’d immediately describe as attractive.  Droplets of water are clinging to every inch of his skin, his toned and tanned and tattooed skin, that seems to continue forever as her eyes travel down his bare chest, noticing every curve of his muscle.  His jade cross, which is almost the exact shade of his eyes, sits between his pronounced pectoral muscles, moving ever so slightly with each step he takes.  Y/N notices tattoos she’s never seen before, like the giant butterfly across his toned stomach, and—her mind goes blank for just a moment—two vines that are tattooed over his prominent pelvic muscles, which just barely dip beneath the white towel that’s wrapped loosely around his hips.

As Y/N’s eyes glue themselves to the way Harry’s towel is moving as he walks, arousal begins to pool in her stomach, travelling all the way down to her core and back again.  For a split second, she thinks that maybe Harry is right.  Maybe she doesn’t want to fuck Brant, because she knows for certain that she’s never thought about him the way she’s thinking about Harry in this moment.

But it’s Harry, she reminds herself, as she tries to force herself to snap her gaping mouth closed. Underneath all those muscles and tattoos—and there are a lot of muscles and tattoos—it’s Harry, who annoys her to no end, who is one of the most self-absorbed individuals she’s ever met, and who has had it out for her since the day they met.

“Sorry.” Harry’s low accent snaps Y/N from her thoughts and pulls her wandering eyes back to his face. “Forgot my clothes out here.”

“It’s—” Y/N’s voice cracks in the middle of the word, still hyper-focused on just how it’s possible for one person to be as attractive as they are irritating, and she clears her throat before trying to speak again. “It’s fine.”

If Harry notices the slip in Y/N’s voice, he doesn’t say anything.  Instead, he just walks to his open bag, locking one hand firmly over his towel as the other searches through his clothes.  He pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, examining them for just a moment before nodding in satisfaction and heading back to the bathroom. Y/N almost swears that she sees him glance at her one last time before he shuts the door, but then she gets lost in the taut muscles of his back, and forgets what she’s thinking entirely.

She’s only just begun to contemplate that maybe she should pull herself together when the door opens again, and Harry exits the bathroom in a way that’s a little more presentable.  His hair is still damp, but his body is dry, proven by the faded Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s now clinging to his arms and the boxers that are hanging low on his hips. His tattooed hips.  His incredibly sexy tattooed hips that could probably—

“What are you wearing?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow at her as he moves his bag from the chair to the ground.  He begins to unfold the bed from the armchair cushions to reveal a creaking twin bed, carefully stretching it out as he waits for an answer.

“I—pajamas.” Y/N glances down at herself self consciously, fixing the strap of her sports bra as she does so. “I just—I didn’t think we’d be sharing a room, so…”

Harry nods tersely as he finishes setting up the bed, his expression unreadable while he walks to the closet and grabs a set of sheets and a blanket. “Cute boxers.” He says casually. “Are they Brant’s?”

Within a flash, the intense rush of attraction and desire Y/N had been feeling is gone, and is instead replaced by the familiar irritation as she watches a smirk grow in the very corner of Harry’s mouth. “No.” She says flatly, turning her attention back to her phone.

“Interesting.” Harry says slowly, laying the sheets and blanket on the bed in a haphazard manner. “Whose are they, then?”

Y/N gets up from the bed and grabs her toiletry bag from her duffel before answering. “An ex.” She says shortly, tucking the patterned bag under her arm. “And why does it matter to you?”

The sound of the rain against the roof and windows gets louder and louder as they speak, and Harry raises his voice to be heard over the precipitation. “It doesn’t.” He shrugs as he maneuvers his lanky body under the blanket without causing the bed to fold in on itself. “Just curious, that’s all.”

“Well, you don’t need to be curious.” Y/N opens the bathroom door, sparing one last withering glance at Harry over her shoulder.  He’s sitting up on the bed with one leg hanging out from beneath the covers as one hand plays with his hair, the other fiddles with a ring on his finger, and the way he looks at her from the corner of his eye lights a fire in Y/N’s chest.  Except she can’t tell if it’s a fire of anger or arousal.  

When she slams the door behind her, it’s her own confusion over that distinction that frustrates her more than anything else.

…

“Took you long enough.” Harry scoffs while leaning against the side of his car, his white t-shirt a contrast to the dust covered body of the black Chevy Impala.  His dark sunglasses are perched on top of his head, keeping his unruly curls out of his eyes, while his arms are crossed over his chest impatiently as he waits for an answer. “I dropped off the keys ten minutes ago.”

By way of explanation, Y/N holds up the cardboard drink tray in her hands, a brown bag balancing in between the two coffee cups. “I was getting us breakfast, Styles.  Calm down.” She walks to the passenger side of the car, opening the door and climbing in one handed. “I figured you’d be even crabbier hungry.”

“You mean you’d be crabbier without caffeine.” Harry retorts, climbing into the driver’s side in one smooth motion. “Here—” He takes the tray from her so she can buckle her seatbelt, carefully removing the two coffees and setting them in the cup holders between them. “Just be careful not to spill anything.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she picks up the coffee closest to her (she’d gotten them both black). “Why? Worried about me ruining Stevie?”

Harry reaches into his pocket, pulling out his keys as he gives her an irritated look. “Yes, actually. I’ve put a lot of work into her.” The car roars to life as Harry turns the key in the ignition, buckling his own seat as the motor warms up. “Adding on two thousand miles to her in five days is already worrisome enough, and that’s not even counting the other two thousand she’ll get on the way back.”

Y/N doesn’t respond to the comment, and instead lets the sound of Harry’s playlist fill the silence of the car as Harry peels out of the Motel 6 parking lot.  She’ll be glad to leave that place behind, she thinks, and focus on finding something better—and more private—for tonight, wherever they end up.

Harry, however, doesn’t seem content with letting silence fall between them. “How did you sleep last night?” He asks after a few moments, one hand on the steering wheel as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye suspiciously, Y/N reaches into the paper bag and grabs her Danish, taking a small bite before answering. “Not great.”

“Was the bed bad?” Harry asks curiously, his brow furrowing while his eyes stay glued to the road, moving only to glance at the occasion sign directing him back to the highway. “The pull out wasn’t great, but I’ve slept on worse.  I would’ve thought the bed would be better than that.”

“No, it—I mean, the bed wasn’t amazing, but it—” Y/N clears her throat and swallows the bite of pastry in her mouth. “I, uh, I don’t sleep well when it’s raining.”

At this new information, Harry’s eyebrow quirks up, and he risks a look in her direction to attempt to read her face.  Y/N’s own eyes are focused on the Danish in her hands, refusing to meet his gaze as she lifts the pastry to her mouth to take another bite.

“You don’t?” Harry asks after a moment, the confusion in his voice almost visible within the space between them. “But it’s like white noise, isn’t it?  Supposed to be relaxing, and all that.”

Y/N gives a half shrug of her shoulders. “It’s—well, it’s not the rain, exactly, just—what it’s usually paired with.” Y/N hopes that her clear hesitancy to answer will be enough of a signal to Harry for him to drop the subject.  Harry, however, doesn’t seem to pick up on the reluctance in Y/N’s voice; or, at least, he doesn’t care enough to acknowledge it.

“What do you mean, what it’s paired with?” Harry takes a small sip of his own coffee, careful of the temperature of the liquid. “Like…wind, or—?”

Y/N debates back and forth with herself internally, but she knows that Harry won’t drop the subject without getting a satisfying answer. “Thunder.” She answers finally, setting her coffee down in her cup holder before turning her gaze towards her window. “I don’t like thunderstorms, ever since I was a little kid, and when it’s raining, it always feels like thunder is around the corner.  Puts me on edge, like I’m waiting for it.  And I can’t sleep.”

“So you never sleep when it rains?” Harry asks slowly, and the tone of incredulous disbelief in Harry’s voice is enough for Y/N to be able to imagine the expression on his face. His forest green eyes wide, strawberry pink lips agape, brow furrowed in confusion, his jaw slack as he contemplates a response to a grown woman admitting that she’s afraid of thunder. The image in her head is enough to make the back of her neck flush.

There’s a tightness in the back of her throat, and Y/N attempts to clear it again before answering. “Never.”

“Huh.” Harry taps his fingers against the gear shift in succession three times. “You’d hate London, then.”

The casual comment catches Y/N by surprise, but she doesn’t allow herself to lower her guard. “That’s why I don’t live in London.” She mumbles the words as her fingers pick at the napkin wrapped around her Danish. “I picked L.A. for a reason.  It has lots of heat, barely any rain, and I’m reasonably close to Disneyland whenever I feel like I need something magical.” The last part slips out without Y/N thinking, and the flush creeps further up her neck as a surprised laugh leaves Harry’s mouth.

“Something magical?” Harry repeats, new crinkles appearing next to his eyes as he laughs, as if the dimples that crease his cheeks aren’t proof of his amusement enough. “Do you frequently feel like you need something magical?”

It’s Y/N’s turn to give an incredulous look now, her body half twisting towards Harry to observe his confusing reactions. “How did I just admit that I’m afraid of thunder, and the thing you’re focusing on is that I like Disney?”

Harry shrugs at her words, flicking on his turn signal to exit towards the highway. “I don’t know.” He says as he peers over his shoulder to check for oncoming cars. “I mean, everyone has fears.  Not liking thunder isn’t exactly uncommon, you know.  However, hearing that Ms. Serious Type A Perfectionist likes magic—” His grin grows bigger by the second. “Now that’s surprising.”

“Oh, shut up.” Y/N mutters, finishing her Danish in a few more bites.  She waits until she’s entirely finished chewing before continuing the conversation over the voice of Billy Joel coming through the speakers. “Since I’ve admitted something I’m afraid of…” She starts, glancing at Harry from the corner of her eye. “I think it’s only fair that you admit something, too.”

Harry snorts in response, his hand freezing its movement with his coffee cup still half lifted to his lips. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” Y/N hums as she slips off her shoes in order to pull her legs beneath her to fold into a cross-legged position on the car seat. “Not so much fun when it’s your turn, huh? C’mon, what’s the Brit scared of? Not enough biscuits for afternoon tea?”

A short and harsh breath of air leaves Harry’s nose, half a snort as he sets his coffee down in his cupholder. “No, actually, diminishing biscuit levels are a low level fear for me.”

“Then what’s a higher one?” Y/N prods, watching as Harry’s neck muscles tense as he shoulder checks to change lanes.  There’s something about the movement that catches her eye, but she can’t quite figure out why—or rather, she can, but she’d rather pretend that she’s unaware.

“Uh…” Harry’s fingers nimbly switch on his turn signal before he transitions to the left lane, his right hand moving the gear shift to its desired place. “Crowds.  I’m not a fan of big crowds, really.  Like when everyone’s pressed together, so tight that you can’t breathe, and you can’t hear yourself think because it’s so loud…yeah. I don’t like that.”

The simple answer surprises Y/N as much as she imagines her answer surprised Harry. “Crowds?” She repeats back to him, a forgotten memory of long gone conversations coming to the forefront of her mind. “But what about, like, concerts and stuff?  Laure always told me when she’d go to shows with you…”

“That’s different.” Harry shrugs as one of his ringed hands comes to his lips, rubbing over them slowly as he contemplates his next words. “I…When I’m at concerts, I always go with someone, and if we’re in the general seating area, where there’s a lot of people, I always stick with them.  Like, sometimes, if it’s getting crowded, or people are pushing, Laure will hold my hand, so…” Redness begins to creep up Harry’s pale neck, staining the tops of his ears a deep berry colour as he trails off.

Not for the first time since their conversation began, Y/N is surprised at how candid they’re being with each other.  As she watches Harry’s blush grow, she feels her own diminish, a physical representation of her trading her embarrassment for something more empathetic.

“I get it.” Y/N says after a moment, once it’s clear that Harry isn’t going to continue. “When there’s thunderstorms, um, I feel better when I’m with someone, or talking to someone. It makes me feel less…”

“Alone?” Harry finishes for her, his eyes flickering from the road to her profile.  His green irises capture hers for longer than they should, his focus completely gone from the stretch of highway for at least five seconds before Harry’s attention turns back to driving. “Yeah.” He says slowly, pulling his sunglasses down from his hair to hide his eyes. “Yeah, less alone. It helps.”

Y/N nods slowly, unable to look away from Harry’s side profile.  It’s apparent that he’s on edge after their conversation, and she knows her body language is the same.  Tight in the shoulders, hands clenched, back rigidly straight.  And yet, seeing her own body language reflected in front of her bothers her.  Part of her wants to reach out and take Harry’s hand, soothe him like Laure does in the crowd of a concert, but she knows that’s ridiculous.  It’s ridiculous, and it’s Harry, and Harry, of all people, does not need her comfort.  Not in the slightest.

She watches as Harry clenches his fist on top of his thigh.

…

“Is this really necessary?” Y/N asks, slamming her car door shut as Harry does the same on the other side of the vehicle.  She leans over the roof of the car, crossing her arms on the cool metal as she tilts her head to the side in an inquisitive manner.  The clouds in the sky are getting darker by the minute, signalling the beginning of the storm that canceled her flight, and the angry black colour above their heads is making Y/N anxious.

Harry, however, seems unbothered by the gathering storm, and nods tersely as he pushes his sunglasses up onto his head before opening the door to the backseat and grabbing his army green jacket. “Of course it’s necessary.” He says, slipping the jacket over his broad shoulders before slamming the door shut and locking the car. “I’ve never been to Utah before.  I want a souvenir.”

“Okay, but—” Y/N follows Harry as he walks towards the dilapidated building in front of them. “Here? Really?  Does this seem like the best place?”

Harry glances at her over his shoulder at her, pausing his long strides to look up at the building he spotted from the highway.  If the chipped grey paint that was once pastel blue and dust-coated windows are any sign, the structure is probably older than Harry and Y/N combined, with a splintered front porch wrapping around its small perimeter.  The building has one faded sign above the door that reads “SOUVENIRS/SNACKS” in hand-painted capital letters, and seems to be hanging onto the outside façade by three small bolts and sheer willpower.  Y/N’s almost certain that she’s seen this exact building in a horror movie before someone gets murdered, and while getting back into the car with Harry isn’t at the top of her list of wants, it’s certainly preferable to getting stabbed to death by a serial killer.

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Harry waves off her concern without a second thought about the appearance of the shop. “If you’re really bothered, you can wait in the car.”

Y/N considers it for a moment, but decides against it.  She needs to stretch her legs, and honestly, Harry seems too trusting.  He probably wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was sketchy until their knife was in his back.  And, seeing as how he has the keys to the only getaway car available, Y/N kind of needs him around without a stab wound carved into his flesh.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She sighs, pulling her own jacket around her tighter as she steps over the worn wooden steps to the door. “We’re on a schedule.”

When Harry pushes open the door, the smell of stale air hits Y/N before anything else.  Despite one open window and a fan in the corner of the shop that’s being used in a weak attempt to circulate the air, it feels like nothing fresh has been in the shop for a while.  Y/N shoots a glance at Harry, caution and warning written all over her face.

While Harry sees her glance, he waves off her concern, turning his attention to the few shelves and wire racks around the small shop that are lined with inventory.  Within a few moments, he’s entertaining himself in the post card section, comparing different photos of the Utah landscape to each other with great care and concern.  Y/N observes him for a few moments before wandering off on her own towards the snack section of the shop.  Although there are a few items that she thinks about picking up, the thick layer of dust over the packaging puts her off from purchasing them.  She grimaces as she continues walking, stopping in front of a tower of silver key chains in the back corner of the shop.  Most of them, she finds, are crosses and bible verses, and all of them give her an ominous feeling in her stomach.  Y/N runs her finger over a miniature silver version of the Ten Commandments, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she does so.

“I think we should go, Harry.” She calls to him without turning around, setting the key chain back down on the rack carefully. “Just pick your post card and—Harry?”

When Y/N turns around, Harry’s broad figure is nowhere to be seen.  She walks back over to the post card section slowly, her brow furrowed with confusion as a knot tightens in her stomach.  Where could he be? She wonders, running her hand along the dusty wire rack in front of her.  It’s not like there’s anywhere for him to go in the small shop, and she would have heard if he left, or if he drove away.

“Harry?” She calls again, her steps slower now as worry fills her voice. “Where did you—fuck—!” Y/N screams as something grabs her from behind, its fingers digging into her sides harshly.  She whips around to find Harry standing over her, loud outbursts of laughter spilling from his strawberry pink mouth at the look on her face.

An indignant flush rushes over Y/N’s face. “You’re such an ass!” She hisses, gripping his shoulders and shoving his laughing frame away from her. “I swear, you’re like a five year old—”

“Did I worry you?” Harry snickers between his words, a wicked look of mischief alight in his dark green eyes. “Were you afraid something happened to me?”

Y/N’s cheeks burn with anger as she turns away from him, crossing her arms defiantly. “No.  I wish something had happened to you.  Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your immature antics.”

Harry’s lips stay quirked up in a smirk as he follows her, his voice falling into a singsong tone. “You were worried.” He insists, chuckles still rolling out of him every few moments. “I could tell.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Y/N snaps at him in an irritated voice. “Just pay for your stupid post card and let’s go.”

“I already did. There’s a sign on the desk saying the clerk is out for lunch, so I left some money.” Harry nods to the small desk in the corner with a few dollars left tucked under the dusty service bell. “I think that’ll cover it, yeah?”

“Whatever.” Y/N can’t resist shoving Harry one last time before walking towards the shop door. “That’s enough.  Let’s go. I want to make it to the motel before the storm hits.”

…

The nice thing about Grand Junction, Colorado, Y/N realizes, is that their motels have multiple single rooms available on short notice.  While she didn’t realize the importance of this fact before this trip started, having an evening of solitude and her own stable space away from Harry for the first time in two days is nothing short of a blessing.

When she gets inside her private motel room, which, while still shabby, is leagues above their previous motel, Y/N locks the door before breathing a sigh of relief.  Just the silence in the room is wonderful, and even though she knows Harry is right next door, having a wall between them is a luxury that she doesn’t take for granted.  When she showers, she doesn’t have to worry about being quick, or toweling off as fast as she can so she can get dressed inside the bathroom without Harry seeing. There’s no need to worry about anyone hearing Y/N sing quietly to herself under the (albeit weak) stream of the shower, nor is there an uncomfortable stick of her sports bra to her back caused by water droplets that she couldn’t reach in her hurry to dry off. And after her shower, with some of the knots from her back finally worked out, Y/N is able to stretch out on the double bed in the center of the room, her phone in her hand as she reaches for the takeout menus stacked on the bedside table.  She peruses the menus available before settling on Chinese takeout, and within five minutes, her order of a two entrée plate and fried rice is on its way.

Y/N sighs gently as she leans back on the pillows, wishing that she and Harry had stopped at a liquor store before coming to the motel.  She knows she could probably walk to one, but now that she’s showered and comfortable, the last thing she wants to do is wander around Grand Junction until she finds a bottle of Moscato.  Instead, Y/N flicks on the TV with a click of the ancient remote, and begins scrolling through the channels until she finds a rerun of Dirty Dancing that’s just starting.

An amused yet wry smile appears on Y/N’s lips.  It’s this movie’s fault that she and Harry are on an impromptu road trip, really. Jo and Laure both loved it, and were insistent that they had to get married at a resort in the Catskills similar to one from the film.  As her two friends cross her mind, Y/N settles into the sheets as Baby begins her narration, contemplating whether or not she should call Jo to check in.  Just as the thought pops into her head, however, the phone rings.

Y/N answers within a moment, not bothering to check the caller ID.  She and Jo had a strange habit of calling each other the moment the other thought of it, and when she raises her phone to her ear, she expects to hear her best friend’s familiar voice reply. “Hello?”

What voice she actually hears, however, surprises her. “Hey, Y/N.  I’m glad I got through.” Brant says easily, his voice crackling slightly through the speaker. “How are you?”

“Brant!” Y/N jerks up in bed in surprise, the remote falling from its perch on her stomach onto the sheets. “I—I’m fine.  How are you?”

“Oh, alright.  Just busy with work, but that’s the usual.” Y/N can practically picture the neutral expression on his face, and how he’d shrug his shoulders as he speaks. “How’s the road trip?  I can’t imagine driving for as long as you have to drive.”

“It’s…it’s alright, yeah.” Y/N speaks slowly as she puts her phone on speaker, balancing it on her knee while her hands begin to fidget with her rings. “Long, but not too bad.”

“Well, that’s good.” Brant clears his throat thickly, as if what he’s about to say makes him uncomfortable. “I miss you, though.  And our weekly dinners.”

A feeling of guilt washes over Y/N.  Truthfully, besides Harry’s inquisition on the first day of driving, Brant has barely crossed her mind.  Granted, he isn’t usually at the forefront of her mind while she’s in L.A., either, but for the last few days, her thoughts have been constantly consumed by the stress of making it to the wedding and her annoyance and frustration with Harry.  

“Y/N?” Brant’s voice crackles through her speaker again. “Are you there?

“I—yeah.” She says quickly, pulling herself from her thoughts. “Sorry, just—long day.  I’m tired.”

“I can imagine.” Brant says sympathetically, but there’s something in his tone that almost sounds patronizing. “Who are you driving with?  Have you been taking turns?”

Y/N pauses the fidgeting of her rings before snatching her phone from its balanced place on her knee. She quickly opens her messages and scrolls to her thread with Brant, searching through the text bubbles for a reminder of what she’d said to him.  Had she not told him that she was traveling with Harry?

Within a moment, Y/N confirms that she hadn’t.  All she had said was that she was getting a ride with someone.  Why had she done that, she wonders?  She’s sure she’s mentioned Harry in passing to Brant at least once.  When she talked about the wedding, probably.  As she thinks about it more, however…what had she told Brant about the wedding?  About Jo? How much does he actually know about her personal life?  Most of their dinner conversations revolve around work, or some book both of them have read.  Had the topic ever come up in detail?

“I’m, um, I’m driving with one of Laure’s friends.” Y/N brings the phone closer to her mouth as her other hand works its way to her mouth.  She begins to chew on a hangnail absentmindedly between her words, something she always does when her nerves begin to get to her.  She can’t count the number of times Jo has grasped her wrist and pulled her hand from her mouth to chastise her about the habit. “We’re…we’re in Colorado now.”

“Oh, Colorado.  That’s nice.” Brant says over the rustling of papers. “Listen, Y/N, I’ve got some work to get back to, but I’m glad we had this talk. I’ll call you again soon.”

“Uh, yeah.  Sure.  I’ll talk to you later.” Y/N nods, and then the line goes dead.  Out of curiosity, Y/N checks the length of the call.  The time 3:09 blinks back at her.

Tossing her phone back down on the covers, Y/N resumes her relaxed position in bed, despite being anything but relaxed after that phone call.  She should feel guilty, she thinks, for not telling Brant about Harry. But then again, what’s there to tell? She said she was getting a ride with one of Laure’s friends, and that’s true.  She hadn’t lied.  And even if Brant did know that the friend is Harry, why would he care?  It’s just Harry.  There’s no reason for Brant to be alarmed, because there’s nothing going on. And she and Brant…Y/N glances down at the call time again.  Things are different between them.  There’s…they’re comfortable as they are, she thinks.  They’re not dating, and they’re comfortable like that.  So there’s no reason to tell him about Harry, because there’s nothing to tell.  Nothing at all.

Y/N refocuses on the TV screen, where Patrick Swayze is dancing in a tight black tank top. Right.  Nothing to tell.

…

When Y/N leaves her motel room the next morning with her bag over her shoulder, Harry is already waiting by his car, leaning against the dusty black body with two coffee cups in his hands.  He’s dressed in another black t-shirt (Y/N wonders just how many identical copies of the same shirt Harry has) with usual jeans covering his long legs.  His curls are tied out of his face with a dark green bandana, and Y/N knows that if his eyes weren’t covered with his black sunglasses, the bandana would make them even brighter than they usually are.

“Hey.” Harry calls to her, extending a ringed hand that holds a coffee cup towards her as she walks over. “I got the coffee this morning.  You drink it black, right?”

Y/N nods as she takes the cup from him, careful not to brush over his fingers with her own. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Harry crosses around to the back of the car, opening the trunk with a turn of his key. “Here.” Harry holds out his free hand for Y/N’s bag, taking it from her and setting it down on top of the suitcases in the back. “I got it.”

Y/N regards Harry with a bemused look as she wraps both hands around her coffee cup. “Thanks?” She says again, more questioning this time as she looks at him strangely. “I can do that myself, you know.”

“I know.  I’m just trying to be polite.” Harry’s voice takes on its usual bite like he’s flipping a switch. “Is that alright with you, princess?”

Within a second, the familiar irritation with Harry returns to Y/N, and it’s almost comforting to snap back at him in a testy voice. “Don’t call me that.”

Harry snickers under his breath, and although the sound makes Y/N’s annoyance grow, she detects a different tone in it than a few days before.  Before she can place a finger on why it sounds different, however, Harry is climbing into the driver’s side of the car and starting the engine.

The two of them are silent as Harry finds his way back to the highway, and they stay in that silence for the first few hours of that day’s leg of the trip.  As the third hour begins to pass, Y/N is content listening to the throaty and captivating voice of Stevie Nicks fill the cab of the car. By the second chorus of the song, Y/N is humming along quietly, her foot tapping to the same beat that Harry’s fingers are spelling out against the steering wheel.  It’s comfortable, she thinks after a moment.  The silence between them.  It feels different than it did on their first day, when Y/N was questioning her choice to get into a car with Harry and commit to a 42 hour drive. The silence seems to be fueled more by comfort than tension.  It’s…refreshing.

A memory from the first day ignites in the back of her mind, a spark so bright and obvious that she can’t believe it took her so long to see it. “Stevie.” Y/N says suddenly, turning to Harry as a smile spreads over her face. “You named your car Stevie, as in Stevie Nicks?”

Harry laughs, his shoulders moving up and down beneath his black t-shirt from the motion.  One hand lifts from the steering wheel and points a finger gun at her. “Took you long enough.  I was wondering how many days you’d have to listen to my music to get it.”

Y/N gives his hand a light shove. “I was too distracted by the fact that you named your car.” She rolls her eyes, bringing her bottle of water to her lips for a short sip. “I still think it’s weird.”

“It gives her character.” Harry defends himself as he rubs a hand over the steering wheel absentmindedly. Y/N can see the mirth swirling around in his light irises. “A bit of personality.  Just because you don’t value personalities doesn’t mean anyone else doesn’t.”

“I don’t value personalities?” Turning in her seat to stare at Harry head on, Y/N raises an eyebrow in question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just your taste in men, that’s all.” Harry says it casually, like it really can just be a “that’s all” type of sentence.

Within a heart beat, the comfortable atmosphere in the car turns to ice as Y/N straightens in her seat, her spine tense, tightening every nerve in her body along with it. “What the fuck does that mean?”

When Harry glances at her again, his eyes darken, his guard going up as he senses the shift in Y/N’s tone. “Nothing, just…motel rooms have thin walls.” Harry mumbles, having the decency to keep his eyes on the road as his ears redden slightly. “And from what I overheard, Brant doesn’t exactly seem…stimulating.”

Y/N sputters indignantly for a moment, unable to form a coherent response as anger rises in her chest. “You—” She sucks in a quick breath that hits the back of her throat harshly. “You eavesdropped on me?”

Harry licks his lips once, clearing his throat once before answering.  The tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel has resumed, his nervousness apparent in his movements as well as his facial expressions. “Not on purpose.  I told you, the walls were thin.”

“So put in head phones!” Y/N exclaims, gripping her water bottle so tight that her fingers begin to strain in protest against the metal exterior.  She has half a mind to throw the bottle at Harry in her anger, barely able to talk herself down from the ledge of the idea.

Harry’s posture shifts in his seat as his shoulders square, and Y/N can practically see his defensive side emerge from within his chest. “It’s not like you two were having phone sex.” He rolls his eyes at the idea. “It was the most boring conversation in the world, and lasted, what, three minutes?  Makes you wonder how long he lasts in other ways, doesn’t it?”

“Stop the car.” Y/N’s voice is low and void of emotion as she replies, her body turned back forward in her seat.

“Am I wrong?  It’s not like you know for sure—”

Anger bubbles over in Y/N’s chest, cancelling out any rational thought she has inside her and leaving pure, unadulterated fury. “Stop the car, Harry!  Now!”

Harry half jumps in his seat when Y/N yells, and he quickly jerks the car to the side of the highway without so much as a turn signal.  Pulling her seatbelt off as he pulls over, Y/N is out the door before Harry can so much as put the car into neutral.  While her more rational mind would tell her that she has nowhere to walk to along a highway in Colorado as the sky darkens to an angry black above them, the only thing she’s thinking of is getting away from Harry.  Stupid, self-absorbed, ignorant, and rude Harry.

“Y/N—” The sound of Harry scrambling out of the car and slamming the door behind him pushes her to walk faster. “Y/N, come back—”

Y/N turns around on her heel fast and hard, heart pounding so fast that she thinks it might break through her ribs. “What is your problem?” She hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Why do you insist on being so—so nasty about him?  You don’t even know him!”

Harry freezes where he is as the wind whips his hair around his face, his bandana barely keeping the messy curls in place. “I don’t—” His speech falters, and he sucks in a sharp breath before continuing. “I don’t think I’m being…nasty.”

“Well, you are!” Y/N takes a deep breath in, placing her hands over her stomach as it expands with air.  It’s a trick that Jo taught her back in high school, as a way to ground herself to her body. Feeling the movement of air in and out of her lungs helps calm her, even if by just a fraction. “Brant is just—he’s someone I’m talking to.  We’ve gone on dates, but we’re not dating, and even though we’re not dating, that doesn’t mean that you can insinuate things about him, or eavesdrop on our private conversations!”

Harry’s jaw tenses as he listens to Y/N speak, waiting until she’s finished her speech to respond in a harsh and clipped tone. “I already told you, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. And I’m teasing you.  It’s supposed to be a joke.  Isn’t that what friends do?”

“But we’re not friends, Harry.” Y/N’s voice is flat, the fury in her tone replaced with a hollow emptiness. “We’re not friends.  I don’t need you teasing me about a boy like we’re buddies, or whatever, because we’re not.”

Although Harry opens his mouth to respond, no words cross over the edges of his pink lips.  His jaw tightens even more as he closes his mouth again, and Y/N can see a million things flitting through his green irises, which are getting darker by the moment.  Y/N’s not certain if the darkness is from her words, or the black sky rolling above them that’s sapping the light of day from the atmosphere, and she’s not sure if she can take the answer either way.  Part of her knows that maybe—just maybe—she’s blown this whole thing out of proportion, and maybe she should examine why Harry making fun of Brant bothers her like it does.  It’s not like she’s unaware of his shortcomings, she thinks, but then she wonders why she’s now seeing them as shortcomings, when a week ago, she saw them as positives.  Y/N never has to worry about Brant being too much for her, or forgetful, or scatterbrained—he’s organized, and secure, and stable, and that’s what she likes.  It’s always been what she likes.

Harry’s delayed response tears Y/N from her thoughts. “Not friends.  Got it.” He mutters, rubbing his hand over his stubbled and taut cheeks. “Just get back in the car, then.  Let’s go.”

…

“Hello!  My name is Gracie, I’ll be your server today.” The waitress in the tiny diner smiles at Harry and Y/N, a notepad in one hand and a half filled coffee pot in the other. “Can I get you guys anything to start?”

“Coffee.” Harry and Y/N speak at the same time, each person’s eyes flickering to the other before looking away.  Y/N keeps her eyes focused on her off-white ceramic coffee cup as Gracie fills it, refusing to make eye contact with Harry again.

The last hour has been almost unbearable.  After they got back in the car, Harry had turned off his playlist, and for the first time since the road trip had begun, true silence had fallen between them. Y/N had thought she would like it, but truthfully, it had been the worst thing she’d ever heard.  Every few minutes, she’d hear Harry shift, or sigh, or tap a tense finger against the gear shift, and she wished that she could say something, but she didn’t.  She couldn’t.  She’d been grateful when he wordlessly exited the highway and parked in front of a diner, as the conversations of stopped truck drivers and the clatter of a kitchen was a good distraction from their argument.

A movement in the corner of her eye catches her attention, and Y/N glances up just enough to watch Harry slip a pat of butter into his coffee, stirring the contents of the cup with his spoon until it’s melted together.  She wrinkles her nose in disgust, and almost opens her mouth to make a comment (“Really, Harry?  Just add milk like a regular person, instead of drinking a cup of grease.”), but bites it back before it can fall off her tongue.  They’re not exactly in the position to make quips to each other, she thinks, especially after she told him that they weren’t friends.

Which they’re not. They’ve never been friends; that fact isn’t exactly news.  Not getting along has been Harry and Y/N’s signature since the day they first met. So why is there a pit in Y/N’s stomach that gets deeper every time Harry looks away from her?

The click of heels alerts Y/N of Gracie’s returned presence before her voice does. “Have you two decided what you’d like to eat?”

“I’ll have a turkey club, please, on whole wheat bread.” Harry folds up his plastic menu carefully. “And a glass of water on the side.”

Gracie nods, taking the menu from him before turning her eyes to Y/N. “And for yourself?”

“Um—” Y/N had barely glanced at the menu, too lost in her thoughts to think about it. “I’ll just have a burger, please.  And a water, as well.”

Gracie nods as she writes down the order, taking Y/N’s menu and giving the pair one last smile before disappearing to the kitchen.  A fresh wave of silence falls between Harry and Y/N as each of them sips their coffee, both of them doing their best not to look at the person sitting across from them.

Y/N’s best, however, is not up to her usual standard, as she can’t stop herself from stealing a few quick glances while Harry looks out the window.  He hasn’t shaved in a couple days, she notices, as the stubble on his cheeks and chin is even darker than it was the day before.  There’s a permanent crease between his eyebrows, his face as tense as she’s ever seen it, and a darkness over his whole expression overall. It’s like there’s a new wall up between the two of them, and Y/N’s never felt more detached from him.  Which, honestly, is saying something.

She’s looking back down at her own half empty coffee when Harry finally speaks a few minutes later, his voice just as tense as his expression.

“Shit.” He says in a low voice, and then the next sound Y/N hears is that of someone ruffling through pockets.  

She looks up to see Harry doing just that, his hands digging through the outer pockets of his army green jacket. “What?” She asks, her curiosity outweighing her need to continue the silent treatment. “What is it?”

“I had the vows in my—my pocket, but they’re—” Harry jams his hands inside a pocket sewn into the lining of his jacket, and Y/N watches as his face visibly relaxes. “Oh, thank God. I thought they fell out.”

Harry removes his hand from his pocket, two folded up notes clutched within his hand.  Each one is labeled carefully, one with Jo written in Laure’s neat penmanship, and the other with Laure scribbled in Jo’s quick writing.  

Y/N recognizes the papers immediately.  It’s easy, really, considering the amount of time she spent helping Jo rewrite draft after draft of the same sentiments. “You have Jo and Laure’s vows?” She questions, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “Why?”

“The same reason you have their wedding bands.” Harry shrugs as he turns the papers over in his careful fingers, making sure not to crease them. “They forgot them.”

A small smile plays on the edge of Y/N’s lips at the memory of her forgetful friends. “Right.  Of course.”

Harry’s eyes flicker to Y/N’s mouth at the sign of movement, and he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth before responding. “Want to take a look?”

“At their vows?” Y/N looks around, as if someone could be watching and monitoring them. “I—that doesn’t seem right.”

“Fine.  Then don’t look at them.” Harry says easily, setting the note labeled Laure on the table between them.  His nimble fingers unfold the paper labeled with Jo’s name as his green irises begin to scan across the sheet. “I’ll read them.”

It only takes a few seconds of watching Harry read over the words for Y/N to crack. “Wait.” She brings her thumb to her mouth, chewing anxiously on her cuticle as Harry quirks an eyebrow at her. “Will you read them to me?”

When she asks, Harry spends so long staring at her that Y/N thinks he’ll refuse.  His jade eyes meet hers with an intensity that almost makes her flinch, but Y/N holds his stare, refusing to be the first to back down. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Harry gives a sharp nod, looking down at the note before he starts to read from the beginning.

“‘My darling Jo’,” He begins, his voice soft and low, his accent thick. “‘It seems so strange that this day is finally here.  I feel like we’ve been building up to it ever since the day we first met, and yet it’s always seemed so far away.  When I was a little girl, I always’…” Harry trails off as his eyes continue to move across the words, and he clears his throat before attempting to continue to read aloud. “‘I always thought that there was something wrong with me.  I thought that the things that I felt, and the way that I loved, was dirty.  I thought it was wrong.  I thought that—that I was going against God, and against nature, and that I was going to be punished for it.  And then I met you’.”

Harry pauses to take a sip of his coffee, and Y/N does the same.  There’s a shine beginning to appear in his eyes, and Y/N recognizes it as the beginning of tears because she feels the same thing brimming in her own eyes. She feels a bit guilty for reading the vows, but reasons that it’s for the best.  If she were to hear them for the first time at the wedding, she doesn’t think she’d be able to keep it together.

“‘The moment I met you, I knew that the way I loved could never be wrong, or be dirty, because I was loving you’.” Harry’s accent grows thicker the more he reads, and although Y/N hasn’t seem Harry in many different emotional states, she can tell that this is a sign of how the vows are affecting him. “‘Being with you could never be wrong, and God could never get mad at me for it, because only God could create someone as perfect as you.  I promise to love you when you wake me up at 3 A.M. because you’ve stolen all the blankets, and I promise to love you at 6 P.M. when you almost burn down our apartment while trying to cook for me.  I promise to support you through everything, listen to your stories, and watch in wonder as you make a difference in this world.  I promise to never let my anger get the best of me, and to always give you the benefit of the doubt.  I promise to love every version of yourself that you grow into, just as I’ve loved all the versions you once were.  I promise to love you in every way humanly possible, and even in ways that aren’t humanly possible.  I promise to love, period.  I’—” Harry’s voice cracks, and he glances up at Y/N as he clears his throat to continue. “‘I love you’.”

Y/N doesn’t realize just how emotional listening to Harry read Laure’s vows has made her until the first tear wells over the corner of her eye.  She turns her head towards the window to wipe it away as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, but from the way Harry is looking at her when she turns back around, she knows that he caught what she was doing.

“That, um—” Now it’s Y/N’s turn to attempt to clear the emotion from her throat. “Wow.”

Harry carefully folds Laure’s vows back up, taking extra care to re-crease the paper exactly how it had been folded. “I didn’t know she…felt like that.” Harry says after a moment, his voice quiet. “Like she was…wrong.”

Y/N, unsure of what to say, just nods while reaching for Jo’s vows in front of her.  Like Harry, she takes great care when unfolding the paper, smoothing it gently between her hands. “I’ll read Jo’s, then?”

Harry nods as he takes a sip of his water. “Sure.”

Y/N licks her lips once, wetting them with what little saliva she has in her mouth before beginning. “‘Laure’,” She starts, emotion already rising up to form a lump in her throat. “‘I don’t even know where to begin.  I’ve tried to write down all the ways I love you a million different times, but I can never seem to find the right words.  The problem is, I don’t think that there is a big enough word to describe what I feel for you.  ‘Love’ is only four letters, and four letters is just not enough to contain everything I feel.  ‘Adoration’ is nine letters, but even that doesn’t come close.  I think the best way I can describe it is ‘permanent’.” Y/N pauses her reading to take a long gulp of water, the coolness soothing the dry and parched feeling in her mouth and throat. “‘Anyone who knows me knows that I have trouble committing.  The idea of having something forever, of being in one place, normally terrifies me. But the idea of having you forever, and being in one place with you forever…that’s all I want.  I want us to be permanent to each other.  Even when we struggle, and we will struggle, I know that we won’t fall apart.  Committing to you isn’t any trouble.  It’s as easy as breathing.  I’m sure of you, and I’m sure of us.  I love you, permanently.  I’ll love you when you’re sick and gross, and I’ll love you when you’re old with a bad hip.” A small laugh falls out of Y/N’s mouth before she continues. “I’ll love you when you haggle at flea markets for the best prices, and I’ll love you when you do something so stupid that it makes me want to tear my hair out.  I love you permanently, and I want all of our family and friends to witness me saying that.  I’ll never back out, or bail, or run away from you.  You’re the one thing in my life that’s never felt hard. You’re my home base, and my north star, and you bring me back down to Earth whenever I need it.  I love you permanently, Laure.  I’ll never stop’.”

As she finishes reading, Y/N folds the paper back up, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand before grabbing the other note sitting on the table.  She pushes them towards Harry, her misty eyes unable to meet his. “Here. Put these away again, somewhere safe.”

Harry takes the vows from her, slipping them back inside his inner jacket pocket for safekeeping. “It’s probably—” He clears his throat once more, and Y/N knows that the vows have caught him in his chest just as they’ve caught her. “It’s probably good that we read them now, so that we’re…prepared for the ceremony.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wraps her hands around her coffee mug, the warm ceramic surface heating her cold fingers. “You’re right.  They really…love each other.”

Harry taps his fingers against the table top, a concentrative and thoughtful expression on his face.  His eyebrows are knit together above his stormy green eyes, and his pink tongue swipes over his pinker lips once before he speaks. “You know, Laure is my closest friend.  I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Immediately registering the tone of Harry’s voice, Y/N’s head snaps up, her own eyes becoming stormy as they meet his own. “Jo would never hurt Laure.” Y/N says defensively, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking up at even the suggestion of her friend hurting someone. “Didn’t you hear her vows?  I’ve never heard her sound so sure of something in her entire life.”

Harry’s jaw flexes at the cadence of Y/N’s voice, and his is just as agitated when he responds. “I’m just saying, if anything ever happened—”

“And I’m just saying, it won’t.” The tension between them doubles as Y/N shoots Harry an icy glare. “Do you just look for the worst in people?  Is that all you do?”

“You think I look for the worst in people?  Really?” Harry barks out a harsh laugh, pressing one hand flat against the table as the other fixes his bandana. “Christ, if that’s what you think of me—”

“Why would I think anything else?” Y/N asks incredulously, tilting her head to the side as she regards him. “All you’ve shown me is—”

“Alright, I have the turkey club on whole wheat, and the burger here.” Gracie appears suddenly to Y/N’s right, her tray loaded with food. “Here you guys are…” She sets the plates down in front of Harry and Y/N, her gaze darting between them nervously as she reads the tension in the booth. “Is…there anything else I can get you two?”

“No.” Harry’s voice is hard. “We don’t need anything else.”

…

By the time Harry pulls the car into a motel just off the highway in Lexington, Nebraska, all Y/N wants is a moment alone.  The strained atmosphere during that day’s drive had been unbearable, and between the anxiety from her confrontation with Harry and the sound of thunder beginning in the distance, Y/N just needs some space to herself to relax and calm down.

Of course, just because that’s what she needs, doesn’t mean that she’s going to get it.  When Harry returns back to the car with a single key in his hand and a sour look on his face, Y/N knows for sure that the universe is against her.

This room, at least, she’s pleased to find, has two actual beds, which are pushed up against the wall perpendicular to the door with a small night table between them.  However, that’s where her pleasure stops, as the click of Harry turning the lock behind her just reminds her that she’s trapped in here, with no chance to get away from Harry, the oncoming storm, or any one of her problems that have developed over the last four days.  The reality of the situation hits her all at once, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control to toss her bag on the bed and walk brusquely to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her before she allows herself to show a sign of her emotions.

The rest of the evening passes in silence.  She showers before changing into her sports bra and boxers, but the amount of exposed skin sends a vulnerable shiver down her spine.  Y/N opts for pulling a sweatshirt over her body, and then sets herself the task of braiding her hair to distract herself.  After that’s done, she busies herself with her skincare routine, taking up as much time as she can in the bathroom before she absolutely has to leave its private interior.

Harry, however, seems to want to see as little of Y/N as she wants to see of him, and pushes past her to enter the bathroom the moment that she steps out of it.  His routine, it seems, is designed to take up just as much time as hers was, because by the time Harry exits the bathroom, the scent of his shampoo trailing behind him, Y/N is already tucked under the covers of her bed, although she’s far from asleep.

In the time it took for her to shower and get ready for bed, the storm had picked up, and the only thing audible in the room was the sound of rain pelting against the roof and window, the wind howling through the trees, and Y/N’s shallow, uneven breaths. She wraps the sheets tightly around herself, pulling them taut to her chin with clenched fists that tighten every time a clap of thunder echoes through the room.  Although she’s turned to face the wall, away from Harry, she can hear his footsteps pause as he gets a glimpse of her shivering form beneath the blankets, and she does her best to will herself to appear asleep.  Breathing in as deeply as her tight chest will allow her, Y/N attempts to even her breathing, forcing her shoulders rise and fall in a way that appears natural and normal.  But all it takes is one clap of thunder for the controlled motion to go out the window.

“Y/N…” Harry’s voice is low, but despite its raspy cadence, it lacks the rough edge that it had earlier. The bed behind her squeaks, signalling that Harry’s taken a seat on the edge of it. “Are you—?”

“I-I’m fine.” Y/N says quickly, pulling the sheets tighter to her chin as another shiver rolls through her body. “Go to sleep.”

There’s another creak of Harry’s bed, and Y/N imagines him climbing under the starched linen covers, his damp curls flopping into his eyes as he lays back on the lumpy motel pillow. The image is almost enough to distract her until there’s another clap of thunder.  The sound seems to shake the motel room, and Y/N can’t stop the small whimper that leaves her lips as her body jumps in response.

“When I was a little kid, my mum took my sister and I to the fair every year.”

Harry’s deep voice cuts over the rain, and Y/N shifts in her bed, turning over to face him.  She keeps the covers pulled up to her chin, but readjusts herself so that she can keep her head on her pillow while looking Harry in the eye. “What?” She asks, confusion audible in her quiet tone.

Harry shifts himself as she does, continuing to move down until he’s completely horizontal, with one hand tucked under his pillow as he speaks. “My mum took my sister and I to the fair.  It came to Holmes Chapel every spring, and there were always rides, and games to play, and so many things to see.  It drew crowds from nearby villages every year, really big crowds, and my mum always held my hand tightly so I wouldn’t get lost.”

“I don’t understand, what—” Another clap of thunder shakes the room, making Y/N flinch halfway through her sentence.

“You’re okay.” Harry says immediately, his calm jade eyes focused on her as the reassurance slips from his mouth.  He waits a moment, gauging Y/N’s body language and waiting for his examination to be positive before resuming his story. “So…my mum always told me not to wander off, but when I was six, I did.  I saw some older kids playing games that I wanted to play, and Gemma was busy playing some sort of game with a ball—I can’t really remember what—and when my mum turned her back, I ran off.”

Y/N’s about to open her mouth to ask why he’s telling her the story when the answer clicks into place in her head.  She thinks back to the conversation in the car the day before, how she told Harry that it helps when someone talks to her to distract her from the thunder.  That’s what he’s doing, she realizes, as she forces herself to focus on his quiet and level voice.  He’s trying to keep her calm, even after everything she said and did today.

“I don’t look like it now,” A small smile flits across Harry’s blushed lips. “But I was pretty scrawny back then.  And all the people around me were so tall, my eyes were barely level with their hips. Everyone was rushing around, going in all directions, and I kept calling for my mum, but she couldn’t hear me.  No one stopped to help me.  I felt like I was…trapped.  Like it was a huge forest of legs, running all around me, circling me, and I couldn’t get out.  I was probably only gone for five minutes, but to a six year old, it felt like an eternity.  And just something about it…I don’t know.  It changed me.  I still don’t like crowds because of that day.”

Y/N’s shoulders unclench the slightest bit as another gust of wind blows against the window. “That must have been scary.”

Harry’s own shoulders lift in a slight shrug as he shifts the sheet to cover him more. “It was. But I can’t change it.  I just have to deal with the repercussions of it. That’s all a fear is, really.  A side effect.  We just have to deal with them as best we can.”

More thunder booms loudly outside, but Y/N manages to keep her flinch to a minimum, despite her hands curling into fists again under the covers. “Harry…” She whispers his name into the darkness between them, his outline barely visible save for his green eyes. “I’m—I’m sorry about today.”

Harry shakes his head, his damp hair rubbing against his pillow. “You don’t have to apologize.” He whispers back, his tone as gentle as she’s ever heard it. “I was an arse.  I shouldn’t have pushed the topic.”

“I shouldn’t have been so uptight about it.” Rubbing her eyes with one fist, Y/N lets out a low sigh. “I felt so shitty all day because of our fight.  I’ve never…none of our fights have ever made me feel like that.”

“Maybe it’s because…” Harry’s tentative voice trails off, his eyes flickering to the ground for a brief moment before staring back at Y/N nervously. “I don’t know.  I thought we were getting along better.  For a moment, at least.”

“We were.” Y/N’s teeth tug on her bottom lip, and she feels a sudden shyness overcome her at the admission. “I’m sorry I said that we…weren’t friends.  I think…I don’t know.  I’ve been stubborn for so long, but I can see now that you’re different than I thought you were.”

“Yeah.  Me too.  I was wrong, too.” Harry runs a hand through his damp curls, a soft laugh leaving his mouth. “How did we even end up like this?  I barely remember what made us hate each other so much in the beginning.”

“Seriously?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, barely peaking out from beneath the sheets as another clap of thunder sounds. “You don’t remember?”

Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”

“Yes!  It was the very first night we met.  We had that double date with Laure and Jo.” Shifting beneath her covers, Y/N moves herself into a better position on her side, so she can be more comfortable while still maintaining eye contact with Harry. “And you were rude, and made inappropriate jokes, and you left in the middle of the date to go chat up a sorority girl!”

“Wait a minute, no!” Harry protests the memory, half sitting up in his bed as he speaks. “That’s not what happened!”

“Yes, it is!” A small laugh falls off Y/N’s lips at his indignant reaction. “I remember it perfectly!”

“No, you remember it wrong!” Although a flush creeps up Harry’s neck, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips, a tiny hint of a dimple just barely appearing in his visible cheek. “I was making jokes to try and break the ice, which didn’t work on the Ice Queen, it seems—” Harry motions to Y/N teasingly. “And you’re the one who started talking to some bloke before I started talking to that girl!”

Another clap of thunder echoes through the room, but Y/N hardly notices as she thinks back to the night they met, and who Harry could possibly be referring to. “A bloke—?  He was a classmate of mine!  I had to talk to him!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to enjoy it so much.” Harry grumbles, crossing his muscled arms over his sheets. “I had been so excited when Laure said she had an American girl for me, and then—”

“You were excited?” Y/N asks, her voice laced with surprise. “Really?”

The flush on Harry’s neck works its way to the apples of his cheeks. “Well, yeah.” He mumbles the words as his eyes drop from Y/N’s, slipping both hands beneath his head. “She said that you were funny, intelligent, witty, beautiful—”

“And then you met me, and realized that it was all a lie?” Y/N finishes for him, rolling her eyes in the darkness.

“No.” Harry gives a small shake of his head as his body shifts, the motel bed creaking under his weight. “No, she wasn’t wrong.  You were all of those things.  But I wasn’t, and it seemed like…I don’t know.  Like you didn’t think I was good enough for you.  I couldn’t keep your attention.”

The teasing smile slips from Y/N’s face as she registers Harry’s words. “You thought that I thought you weren’t…good enough?”

The nervousness is clear in Harry’s voice now, even over the pounding of rain against the window. “That’s what it seemed like, yeah.”

“I never—I didn’t think that.” Y/N says slowly, managing to relax her body beneath the sheets as she keeps her focus on the memory of meeting Harry. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be there, but that’s because Jo set the date up without telling me.  I thought you were handsome, and I liked your accent, but then you started to act weird, and you started flirting with that girl, so I thought you were an ass.”

“You still think I’m an arse, princess, be honest.” The teasing tone replaces the nerves, and for once, Harry’s joke has the intended affect on Y/N.  When she rolls her eyes again, it’s more playful, and the same tone is in her voice when she responds.

“I told you, don’t call me princess.” She replies, running her teeth over her lip gently. “So…I guess we both kind of fucked up that day.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods, a sheepish smile playing over his red lips. “I guess so.”

“Can we just restart?” Y/N’s voice is small when she asks the question, barely audible over the sounds of the storm raging outside. “Like, all the way from the beginning. No more grudges, no more yelling. Even if it’s just for this trip, for Jo and Laure—”

“It doesn’t have to be just for this trip.” Harry cuts in, his eyes catching Y/N’s again. “We’re going to have to be around each other for a long time.  It’ll be a lot easer if we get along.”

Y/N nods in agreement, tugging down her covers to extend one arm towards Harry.  She makes a fist, holding out just her pinkie finger to him with half a grin on her face. “Truce?”

The space between their beds is small, and Harry’s long arm easily makes it across the no man’s land to meet Y/N’s pinkie with his own.  He loops it together with a smile that matches hers, tired and content and just at the edge of a humble new beginning.  Harry’s response is almost inaudible as thunder booms loudly outside the room, but Y/N can still pick out the cadence of his accent under the noise.

“Truce.”

(pt II)

#feedback is appreciated!! #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles preference #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #one direction imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #enemies to lovers #road trip au #fine line #fine line album #dreamwithharry #42 hours #writing

[luminous-shifting-vibes]

*sequel* to actual fucking quotes from the shiftblr coffeehouse discord server

once again, it's out of context because x1000 funnier

also x1000 longer than previous post

"ur satan is gnc af"

"Bestie I’m already having gender envy over a fucking demon please"

"O_O ODEPIJHFbavevisdpvfhzdcnjawedsidjksjdkoeirjfmkdsoeirujdksodifjndmksoidfjdksidfj ITS" NOT IN MY FRAFTS IS SPEDNT 1 hour PN THAT SHIT"

"AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"ohoho sexy"

"I am very proud of myself"

"himbo x edgy fuck"

"YOU COULD SQUISH HES CHEECKS"

"he has teefs"

"SQUASH"

"good for biting 📷"

"he's a himbo basically"

"B͂̒̄iͫ̍̈tͧ̓ͯè̄̇"

"bifth"

"i havent watched blue exorcist in years but mr okumura my beloved </3"

"MY LIFE QUESTIONS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED"

"is it important information to mention that the person i put up for my turn is the son of satan" "I know like 1 thing about everyone who isnt ranboo lmfao"

"crimes"

"tumblr sexyman"

"idk why but my first thought was cowboy onceler"

"I vibe with him but he is very long and twisty"

"steampunk e-girl"

"steampunk tumblr sexyman"

"Canonically bi crimelord I agree!!"

"OOO FRIEND SHAPED"

"ARTIST SIGHTED"

"they look like someone i would want to be friends with but is way cooler than me so i'd never actually talk to them"

"babby..... would die for him"

"honestly i probably kin him"

"i'm sure he's lovely but he looks way too much like my ex i'm sorry-"

"i'd be down for another rotation! i have another twink to show y'all"

"Also :00 blonde friend"

"Let us all infodhmo"

"Hsjagdvbs shhh im on phone"

"Nix woukd you like to joon?

"skitters away"

"I have two braincells and they both drink dumb bitch juice"

"oof wait whats the order again i have 0 memory"

"i want to bond with him over cosplay-"

"Awkwardly watches in band kid"

"One day I'm gonna a broadway star"

"which isnt to say they were bad. they were just fortnite dancing during rehersals"

"I threw it so hard my glasses flew off and slid under the stage right divider"

"anyway heres my boi"

"emo"

"haha emo"

"virgil sanders kinnie"

"he looks like he listens to my chemical panic at the fallout boy"

"Bro I bet he'd kick my ass with his deck"

"bird man my beloved"

"fuck i had so much to say and then i forgot it all"

"Birds!!"

"guiguhuh"

"crabrave"

"She sounds like someone I would end up stealing her personality"

"yess name collector gang"

"alias glass aiden haven absinthe fish brick rice"

"But I have Cypress, Remure, Genesis, Lemres, and Comet"

"And she's named after a mars candy bar bc alien"

"Hey, if plato went by plato, you can be king thief"

"im not dissing my gramma like that shfojd"

"My dad has seven legal names" "bitches be like *looks at fictional character* *steals their name* it's us we're bithces"

"coraline lowkey traumatized me but i adore it regardless"

"mmmmmm magic man :]"

"°0° green man"

"criminal (affectionate)"

"he would shoplift a candy bar from walmart and then brag to all of his friends about the sick stealing he did"

"despite the fact he's canonically been capable of overpowering a minor deity"

"i would commit so many crimes for him"

"Very babey"

"Yes please tell green man he is very pog"

"he also keeps a lot of dumb secrets"

"but I will sorely miss the chaos and energy of this here chat until I wake again" (by request XD)

"i just say words and if they're funny then they're funny"

"* or extremly chaotic either works"

"at this point we are just taking turns rambling"

"oH--"

"bc my brain has a schedule"

"Hopefully they have gyoza there or I will lose my mind"

"hehe yes spooky man"

"my ghost glucose guardian"

"the head of the undead group that lives there, and we end up dating. (yes I date a ghost, no I will not be taking constructive criticism /lh)"

"ghosts r just inherently sexy"

"i mean im becoming a squid thing so"

"Raven quirk raven quirk!!"

"ł â m p"

"łæmp"

"mothman: ooh lamp you look very nice today! do you come here often? mothman: wait shit no"

"I'd date a ghost"

"mine is still accurate, i am still sobbing (/j)"

"p e e p e e"

""@nick wilde is a tumblr sexyman" is the best thing i have ever seen"

"im sorry im cackling like a dying hyena"

"you're all 12 year olds"

"PEENIE"

"He once caused global warming on accident so he could get a tan"

"god, what a himbo. i love him"

"that reminds me of my friends kin assigned me jesus"

"Man outside of battle be like: princely crying but then in battle hes like: "CATACLYSM! DISASTER! DEVASTATION!" Chill out man"

"Every time I talk about satan it never fails to shock people it's my favorite thing to do"

"im kin assigning him roman sanders" ""Oh yeah he caused global warming because he wanted to get girls" "he what""

"oh damn i forgot satan was straight"

"twink appreciation club"

"give us the twinks"

"my first thought was bottom-"

"so many people to try and get his dad to love him"

"daddy issued"

"OH MY GOD ITS WILBUR"

"Big boy but"

"anyways janus is swagggg"

"........................."

"gib twink"

"give twink then i will share"

"holds him gentle like hamburger"

"This dumb bitch opened a book that said "do not open" and got possessed by a little bastard"

"he is. fragile creachur"

"klug is beauty klug is grace i would let him step on my face"

"If I'm playing swap and I have to hear one more "Pwanet Powew" Im gonna lose it"

"Who is to blame? Pandora or the box?"

"Bakugo isnt my type but I respect the drip"

"i say like my type isnt long-haired pretty boys and girls that look so gnc that people have a history of confusing them for men"

"hes a gremlin and i can appreciate a pretty gremlin"

"that is to say i am attracted to VFlower vocaloid. This is a confession."

"note i am a lesbian"

"You may like Schezo wegey"

"why does he have one single expression"

"soul soul eater passes the vibe check"

"magic wand"

"I Want To Hold His Hand"

"i would commit a war crime for him any war crime idc which one"

"my favorite one is when he sounded rlly gay because he said "Muscular bodies keep me satisfied""

"p e a n u t"

"Klug is a homophobic homosexual its just facts"

"grug from the croods is peak male performance"

"jaw drops to floor, eyes pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets, heart beats out of chest, awooga awooga sound effect, pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out, slams fists on table, rattling any plates, bowls or silverware, whistles loudly, fireworks shoot from top of head, pants loudly as tongue hangs out of mouth, wipes comically large bead of sweat from forehead, clears throat, straightens tie, combs hair Ahem, you look very lovely."

"tag yourself im the fireworks shooting from the top of the head"

"i like essays"

"central time gang"

"11:11 pog-" (wait... is that a suprise angel number?? yes it is lovelies just for you <3)

"Then again im also a dumbass bitch who wonders what the souls in soul eater taste like. SERIOUSLY THOUGH. THEY LOOK TASTY AS HELL!!!! LIKE GODDAMN BRO YOU'RE MAKING ME FUCKING HUNGRY. Like. that shit- it's Bone Apple motherfucking Teeth. hell yea my guy. Im hongy now.... shlorp I'm seriously considering this. Like. They seem kinda like a liquid? But a solid? Are they like jello? The fuck they taste like my guy???? I keep imagining they're like sour, like sour candy maybe? Or do they taste salty? Sweet? Maybe some combo of two? Do they even have a taste or is it about the texture? The sensation? God my mouth is watering what the hell. I am starving. I think I need to go get a cookie. I'm gonna go get a cookie. Brb. I'm better. I'm still craving souls though. Which is a weird-ass cringey thing to say but I'm being dead-ass rn. They just.... look tasty???? And I wanna eat one. Thus. I am shifting to Soul Eater for the express purpose of satisfying my fucking cravings. enjoy"

"points were made"

"jello? more like helloooo schloooAHFJDSDAIDWNALDHSJKDAIDANDM"

"WAIT I THINK I HAVE AN ANIME GIRL BITING VIDEO TOO"

"anime girl voice: mmm! mm... ahhhhmp!! mmm, mmm... aaahmp!"

"i think it sounds great i'm going to start eating like that"

"several people are typing"

"do these look edible to you"

"forbidden gummies"

"when I was on lsd I couldn't eat my fruit gummies because I thought they were alive because they had little faces on them"

"oh shit yeah don't do drugs"

"anyways general consensus is puyos are edible, ty for your input everyone"

"everypony is a word so powerful it can bring nations to its knees"

"pls the self control it's taking me not to say "hewwo everypony" in gen chat when someone new joins-"

"hewwo evewrypony uwu deaw cewestia i hopwe it doewsnt wain owo"

"ive cooked up a sowution wiwth the knowwege ive acwued. they say a kitcwen time saves niwne, but im just savwing two. Ive gathewwed the inwedients to make a time sowbet. Thewe's hawdly woom fow seconds when the seconds mewt away."

"I had a ten year old sister... you know what happened to her??? very sad, very tragic... she turned eleven....."

"NIIICE"

"Guts dont say the secks word :( /j"

"watch your fucking language in front of the president"

"im so sorry lumi"

"i think you're like ehhhh 8/10 funny"

"now me???? 10/10. Hilarious"

"sometimes i have to take a step back and remember that this is the same guts i follow on tumblr /lh"

""ok every here's some good shifting advice!!! uwu have a good day" "yeah i did lsd and ate fruit gummies""

"i have one setting and it's whatever this is"

"my bitch ass cat just pushed the door open with his fuzzy face and now my sleeping dad is being lulled into dreams by Cosmo Sheldrake's 'Pliocine'."

"me on discord: nick wilde"

"me on tumblr: shifting water! haha funne! me on here: my hermit crabs are cannibals also i want to eat souls."

"im sorry yOUR VIBESA RE JUST SO DIFFERNT"

"u give off older cousin ive never spoken to but always admire at the family gatherings vibes"

"what the fuck"

"BC I HAVE LIBERTU"

"If you adopt me then yes"

"am I qualified for dad jokes???"

"we're all a lot smarter on tumblr"

"I'm like "awww... sweet... sweet little shiftlings... posting such sweet shiftling content... so pure, so wholesome... does not even know abcs....""

"can't think before you speak if you never think B)"

"I'm not responsible enough to be a mom"

"cat pet"

"show us pictures of the cat or i will do Crime"

"maybe thats me being a coward tho"

"MOTH!!!! MOTH MY BELOVED"

if y'all want I can make this a series bc shiftblr keeps giving me more content

#tw drugs #tw swearing #tw cannibalism #tw crime #tw food #tw homophobia #shitpost #out of context #out of context quotes #lumi's quotes

[monkberries]

Wait what's wrong with the AKOM How Do You Sleep episode? I remember it being fine but its been ages since i listened to it so if you've got any thoughts I'd love to hear them :)

Be aware, this is only about the first episode, not about the George-focused episode. If they resolve any of the issues I have with the first episode in the second episode, then I sincerely apologize.

First, there are some things they talk about that I agree with! Near the end of the episode, they discuss the dynamic between John and the people around him in a really insightful way, and in a way I’ve often thought about it; both John and the people around him were all kind of in this mindset of “oh, Paul rejected us? Well, we didn’t want him ANYWAY! So THERE!” They also discuss the fact that John was very easily manipulated, and nearly his entire support system (minus Ringo, and shame on them for not mentioning that) basically egged his anger and viciousness on. And they also play/read some interviews with John about the song and tangential subjects, and it’s always nice to hear primary sources.

However, much like their post about Lewisohn, I find a lot of this episode excessive, overtorqued, and generally far too exaggerated. They perceive an imbalance in narratives (which I do think is there, just not to the extent they say) and overcorrect, imho.

First, I want to get my opinion on the song itself out of the way: I listen to it a lot. It’s on my Fall 2020 playlist. I enjoy the musicality, the style; the mood it evokes is extremely strong to me. Sometimes it’s fun to indulge in feeling evil or mean without having to actually be evil or mean! Plus, I love playing it right before Jealous Guy, or Steel and Glass, or I Know (I Know), just to get that maximum John Lennon Mood Whiplash effect. I think George’s solo is vicious and perfect for the mood as well. However, the lyrics are pretty horrendous in terms of their effect on Paul and his feelings; they’re also horrendous in that they’re just not well-written lyrics. IMHO you can tell it was written by three different people all throwing insults at the wall to see what would stick and rhyme. Half of the digs don’t even make sense. “So Sgt. Pepper took you by surprise/You better see right through that mother’s eyes” Wut? “The one mistake you made was in your head” ??? The hell do these things even mean lmao

Anyway. Onto the episode itself.

Around 1 minute in, they say that there’s not a lot of check and balance in the Beatles fandom w/r/t this song, and that much of the fandom espouses that HDYS was “deserved” and “honest”. They reiterate this sentiment over in different ways throughout the episode, and I just do not see that kind of thing being a majority opinion in Beatles fandom spaces at all. Perhaps they are occupying different fandom spaces than I occupy (tumblr/Hey Dullblog/beatlebioreview), and it is true where they are? (In which case, my goodness, find some better blogs to follow, babes!) They talk about how they’ve never seen anyone pick it apart before, and that the discussion around it has not changed, that people have been saying Paul deserved it since it came out. Again, this is does not jive with my experience in the Beatles fandom.

From Shout!, a book with a well known anti-McCartney streak, published in 1981: “John’s Imagine album - despite the plea for universal peace and brotherhood in the title track - launched a thermo-nuclear strike back at Paul with ‘How Do You Sleep?’ a title suggesting crimes almost in the realm of first-degree murder. The McCartney references were unmistakable, and, often, cruelly unjust: ‘The freaks was right when they said you was dead... The only thing you done was Yesterday...’ There was even a two-fingered gesture of contempt for Paul’s new outdoor life with Linda on their Scottish farm.” Also, the RS review spends two paragraphs talking specifically about how heinous and unjustifiable HDYS is. You can definitely say that rock journalism takes some of the attitude of HDYS and runs with them, such as Paul’s music sounding like muzak - that sentiment certainly persisted. But I would argue that most of the shit journos are reacting to and buying into comes from Lennon Remembers primarily, where John says all the same crap and more, and worse, rather than HDYS itself, which they seem to balk at.

They make the claim as well that the Imagine LP has been elevated to some kind of untouchable, un-criticizeable status. In the years after his death, I think there is probably some truth to that, although again, untouchable is an extreme word. Even in 2003, the LP was number 80 on Rolling Stone’s top 500 albums of all time. However, it was 227 on NME’s list in 2013 and dropped to 223 on Rolling Stone’s new 2020 list, suggesting a waning in popularity over time and a willingness to look more objectively at the quality of it.

The thing that really bothered me about this episode is like... They talk about the need for nuanced discussion of the song, right? And that’s all fine and good, and I agree, nuance in any Beatles discussion is essential if you want to get close to any actual truth. However, they then go on to say, quite adamantly, that if you say the music of the song is good, even if you think the lyrics are awful, then they wouldn’t even bother having a conversation with you. It’s very “We want nuance! NO NOT LIKE THAT! YOU’RE DOING NUANCE WRONG!” Like, I’m sorry, the music is good, in my opinion! John is very good at evoking a mood! The fact that I think George’s solo is incredible, or that the keyboard riff gives me chills, or that I think the bass goes super hard, doesn’t mean I don’t understand how rough the lyrics are or the effect they had on Paul. In fact, imho, I think it’s important that we discuss how quality the music is because it underscores the calculated cruelty John exhibited. He worked hard on this song. He wanted to create a very specific feeling out of it, and he succeeded in spades. I think if it had been crappy musically, people would have been much more contemptuous of it than they already are. As I said earlier, some of the digs don’t even make sense; I think they’re bolstered and propped up specifically because the music underneath them is so good. Also, it’s not fucking wrong to enjoy a groove.

I also take some issue with them saying that HDYS was easily among the worst things John ever did. Like... equivalent or worse than going on anti-Semitic, homophobic rants? Yikes.

There are many instances in this episode where they will go “I often read things like...” or “Jean Jackets will say...” or “I see this a lot...” and then never actually talk about where they see these things or quote directly from them. One instance goes “I often read things like, ‘John Lennon is expressing years of pent-up resentment over creative differences’, as if John is some kind of, like, drunk art teacher doling out free advice to Paul on his music.” I’ve read a lot about HDYS and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that. Just about every discussion of the song I’ve seen says very clearly that it was an unjustified, deeply personal attack. I realize there is an aversion to publicly Naming Names when you’re calling out people who perpetuate a bad narrative. But I want to know where this stuff comes from. I want to actually see what it is they’re upset about.

Lastly, they talk near the end about music innovation and experimentation, and this is where I think things go much too far in overcorrecting a narrative. The well-known narrative for many years post breakup was that Paul was a boring square who wrote granny music. That is true; he was much maligned in the press about that. However, I think post-Hertsgaard, post-Revolution In The Head, post-Complete Recording Sessions, and post-Many Years From Now, that attitude has changed quite a bit. Most serious Beatles fans know now that Paul was the first one to really get into Avant-Garde stuff; most fans know about the fact that he made McCartney 1 basically alone in a homemade studio. Most fans have probably heard or at least heard of Temporary Secretary, lmao.

But it feels like these women are still living in the past where Paul was still being maligned for being a square, so instead they go way far to the other end and say “Paul was the musical innovator, not John.” And that is just flat out NOT true. They were BOTH musical innovators. The fact that Paul was the first to get into avant-garde art does not exclude John from also being incredibly innovative and experimental in his own way. Perhaps he wasn’t doing that on Imagine; they are right that Imagine is a collection of really good but fairly commercial songs. But they utterly discount the fact that he did Strawberry Fields Forever, and I Want You (She’s So Heavy), popularized backmasking, was one of the first if not the first to use amp feedback in a song in I Feel Fine, experimented with recording his voice differently with Tomorrow Never Knows and Revolution, and also the entirety of Plastic Ono Band!!! You don’t have to downplay or erase John’s experimental contributions to music in order to elevate Paul’s. You can elevate both of them. It’s fine.

Also, this is the episode where they say Lewisohn’s book is exactly the same as all the other Jean Jackets books except thicker, and I have a viscerally bad reaction to that for many reasons I have already outlined on this blog. Suffice to say, it is demonstrably untrue (not least because Lewisohn hasn’t published anything in his Tune In series that goes beyond 1962) and unfair to someone who has done an unbelievable amount of legwork to back up his writing. They also compare Lewisohn to Goldman (???????) and call them John and Yoko’s “fuckin bitch boys saying the same shit over and over again.” I have to imagine Goldman was a misspeak and she meant someone else, but still that jarred me lmfao

#about the blogger #Anonymous #podcast blues

[noahhernandez]

2/9/2015 v. 8/11/2020

1:Talk about the first time you watched your favorite movie. My favorite movie is Scream, and it started when I saw the midnight premier of Scream 4 with my dad back when I was in 8th grade, then Scream 1 came on AMC late on night and I just really like it

I still think Scream is one of my favorites, but Halloween has jumped up there just because I am obsessed with all things horror really lol. I started to love Halloween because of the new trilogy.

2:Talk about your first kiss. It’s really not that interesting but really like embarrassing. It was with my first boyfriend and I had just turned 15 and we were at the school just walking around and we went into the band hall and I was like ok im leaving and he was like wait and we kissed and i was like o

the same ! 

3:Talk about the person you’ve had the most intense romantic feelings for. I never really have had intense feelings for anyone. I d k

One my exes- I mean we were dating for awhile so that’s pretty intense to me. 

4:Talk about the thing you regret most so far. I regret… Nothing really I mean, I have done really bad things in my life, but i don’t regret them

I regret failing like 2 semesters of college lmao and almost dropping out. If i didn’t then I would 1- would have been done earlier and 2- would have already completed a year of grad school but IDK also another is wasting lots of money in 2017-2018

5:Talk about the best birthday you’ve had. The best birthday I’ve had was.. Idk This year was was nice I saw Iggy Azalea in concert, then I celebrated my friends’ birthday then mine and it was just everyone got to get together so ya this year my 18th

For my 21st birthday I went to Portland, Oregon and spent the weekend there and it was pretty and my first time there so it was nice despite what I think about PDX now. I don’t even know what I was doing for my 19 and 20th birthday lol. 

6:Talk about the worst birthday you’ve had. My 17th birthday because I was stuck 2 hours away from home with a bunch of nerds doing a band competition 

That is still probably my worst birthday. I forget to mention that I was gone literally from like 7am to midnight. They werent a bunch of loser nerds, they were my friends, but I still wish I was just at home lol. 

7:Talk about your biggest insecurity. I am skinny, but not fit. If I eat anything I get this like stomach and it makes me so sad. and ever since I got a job I work odd hours and I eat a lot of fast food and I’ve gained 10 pounds in 2 years and I guess i’m insecure about my weight

I am still insecure about my weight, and I probably weight like 5 pounds more than I did when I made this post 5 1/2 years ago. 

8:Talk about the thing you are most proud of. We have band banquets for band, and I only went my sophomore and junior year, and seniors give out awards to underclassmen that are just jokes really, and both years 4 different seniors gave me an award for being the biggest gossip in the entire band and I was proud of that lol

Well since then I have graduated both high school and college. I am proud that I finished college !! A BS in Psych. Proud of myself that I got promoted (in 2017) at my job; i’m proud of myself that I have my own apartment, and blah blah basically just doing regular adult shit. 

9:Talk about little things on your body that you like the most. I like my nose because of how perfectly fixed it is. I also really like my freckles/moles/dark marks idk what they are exactly, but they’re on my face and they look great

I still feel the same way about this, maybe add my eyebrows- they’re not like clean and nice they’re just expression markers on my face that i love.

10:Talk about the biggest fight you’ve ever had. I got into a fight with my old friend Angelica and that was almost 4 months ago and we used to be best friends and now we never talk.

When Janett didn’t talk to me all summer of 2019 because I told our other friend Angel something

11:Talk about the best dream you’ve ever had. I cant remember one 12:Talk about the worst dream you’ve ever had. I can’t remember one

13:Talk about the first time you had sex/how you imagine your first time. The closest thing i’ve had to like sex was being locked in a back of an SUV with a stranger drunk as fuck and naked and its embarrassing

Just awkward and nothing to which I expected. 

14:Talk about a vacation. When I was 16, the high school band took a trip to Hawaii, and all my friends were in band so it was great. We did a lot of things, we toured Pearl Harbor and even played a few patriotic songs on the USS Miss. and our hotel was on Wakiki beach. I went snorkeling in some beautiful water and shit and idk just walked all around Hawaii having a great time omg we got on stage at the Hard Rock Cafe and sang with German people i miss it

Hm that was fun. But I.. went to NY with my ex and that was pretty cool because I literally love New York, and I went to NOLA two years ago (today actually) and got miserably drunk so that was fun too 

15:Talk about the time you were most content in life. Probably just in the middle of junior year when everything and everyone was going with the flow

I feel like 2016 was a very content year because I remember nothing about it. 

16:Talk about the best party you’ve ever been to. Idk which one to talk about the one where I had a lot of fun and risked my life or the one where there was a lot of drama stirred up and drank myself to sadness. 

I haven’t really been to a party? I have gone out and had good times. Really anytime my friends and I go out I am having a good time 

17:Talk about someone you want to be friends with. I am already friends with people I want to be friends with

18:Talk about something that happened in elementary school. I kissed a boy on the back of the head and i told I just fell onto his head

Let me think of another one. Back in like fourth grade my friend was in a wheel chair and his backpack was falling from the back and I was trying to grab it and i was only 3 feet tall i couldnt see over or wasnt paying attention and i crashed him right into the bookshelves at the library. 

19:Talk about something that happened in middle school. A girl was mad at me because idk why lol and she pushed me in the hall way and I fucking flew across that hall on the floor and hit the wall she’s pregnant now

When I was in 5th grade (which is considered middle school in my district) I was standing on the play ground and someone threw a stick at my head and it knocked me the fuck out and I was bleeding from my temple.

20:Talk about something that happened in high school. In Jr. Year I was pulling into the parking lot but I was texting and I accidentally put half my car on grass area near the side walk luckily it was 7am and only one person saw me do it lol

One summer going into our senior year we had a party at Michelle’s house. First of all we were very drunk and Coby’s parents were like we are coming over and we cleaned TF UP so fast and sat on the couch and turned on I Know What You Did Last Summer and his parents were like interesting and and left and then we continued to drink anyways- we started playing truth or dare and my friend Angelica was like I dare u to kiss Anthony (someone I had liked prior) and he wouldnt and we started attacking him and calling him homophobic and hitting him with pillows lmao- him and I are still friend-ish

21:Talk about a time you had to turn someone down. I can’t think of something right now.

Literally anyone on grindr.

22:Talk about your worst fear. I’m afraid of having no career and being stuck doing something I hate and living paycheck to paycheck

Yeah, I’m scared of that still but I.. think just like being broke and jobless. RN with the pandemic we aren’t really working and still getting gov’t assistance, so.  IDK being a real real adult scares me a lot. 

23:Talk about a time someone turned you down. I can’t think of a time :)

One time in like 2016 maybe idk - this dude told me to come over and he lived far like not that far maybe 25 minutes lol far for me anyways I got to his apartment and there was a gate code and i asked him what it was and he didnt answer and it was like 2-3am and nobody was coming in or out and so i was like damn this sucks lmao

24:Talk about something someone told you that meant a lot. Nothing really has meant a lot to me. Everyone tells me the same thing over and over again and its so surface level

I still can’t think of anything but I’m sure the friends I have met since this and my friends Faith, Michelle, Peter, and Alisa have said something supportive that meant a lot to me. 

25:Talk about an ex-best friend. Angelica Ramirez. She was my best friend for only 3 years, but together we went through A LOT of shit. We started out senior year just fine, but she lied about a few things and made a lot of us feel like crap in October. I won’t lie, I do miss her. We have too many memories to just forget, too many funny stories and great adventures. She helped me with too much, and sometimes I think about how I cut her out of my life and I mad a bad choice. But only time can heal things and I have moved on and truly found people that won’t make me mad every 30 seconds. 

Brianna Pajak, I don’t remember anything about her except she was poor and we stopped being friends because she always wanted to fight and be annoying. 

26:Talk about things you do when you’re sick. Lay on bed on my computer and watch TV

I normally just suffer and cry about wishing I was healthy again.

27:Talk about your favorite part of someone else’s body. Their…!!>>>??? 

I must have nice hands and ur nose must be nice too! so nose and hands. lol

28:Talk about your fetishes. none

yeah I don’t have any lol not that I can think of. 

29:Talk about what turns you on. Idk i really like kissing and touching and this is awkward. 

30:Talk about what turns you off. bad breath by

that and ugly/rough hands, acne sorry i know it is natural but, shorter than me lol, white people, long hair on guys, and thats about it i think hm i am single yes 

31:Talk about what you think death is like. I think its like idk its scary tho

um idk i dont like thinking about death because i literally want to cry when i think about it. 

32:Talk about a place you remember from your childhood. I remember being in trees a lot

My step grandma’s a lot because my parents were working and she would watch us. She passed away about a month ago :( 

33:Talk about what you do when you are sad. I usually only tell one person and that person is Alisa and I cry sometimes to her and expect her to make things better and she does thank u

I be doing the same thing, I text someone and that person could really be anyone but it happened the other day and I texted Bri and she was very helpful. 

34:Talk about the worst physical pain you’ve endured. I have no idea, I’ve never broken pulled strained twisted fractures or anything i have no life

I still haven’t done any of that stuff to my body. I also have burn scars but I did not feel those when it was happening. I would just say i guess my wisdom teeth coming in because I did not get them removed. I have 3 out lol.

35:Talk about things you wish you could stop doing. Pushing potential love interests away 

I have had some ‘love interests’ since this post, but it’s been about a year now since and I kind of push away the opportunity of getting close to someone. I also need to stop being a bitch sometimes. 

36:Talk about your guilty pleasures. eating 

I would say idk eating was a stupid answer. 

37:Talk about someone you thought you were in love with. never

I was in love and i didn’t ‘think’ I was in love. I don’t know what you mean by talk about them, they were my partner but we broke up hehe.

38:Talk about songs that remind you of certain people. Fireflies by Owl City reminds me of my 7th grade crush Fancy by Iggy Azalea reminds me of my two friends Michelle and Alisa idk anything else

um Idk. i rly cant think  39:Talk about things you wish you’d known earlier. I wish I would have known that

That it’s okay to tell people you’re struggling lol . That is okay to fail sometimes (school).  40:Talk about the end of something in your life. everything is just about to start

When I ended how to get away with murder I wish I never did I love that show with all my heart. 

#personal

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Summary: Max, Luka and Nino break down.

Warnings: Murder, mentions of torture, references to sex, implied suicide, child abuse, child neglect, captivity.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Max has always been a genius. He’s always thought a million miles ahead of everyone. His mother loved it.

 His father didn’t.

 Max idly typed on a computer, ignoring the man behind him.

 “Look, I told Lady Fortune, I ain’t done nothing to piss her off. I keep to her rules, keep to her cred-”

 “Then why do you have reports of guns being smuggled to the Snarling Snakes?” Max asked, stopping on the file on the computer. The man choked as a portal opened up and Kim stepped out, decked in his uniform. He grabbed the man who started screaming.

 Pathetic.

His father hated his son was smarter than him. He was the doctor, after all, he was the one who worked so hard to be smart. 

 His mother divorced him when he put Max into the hospital. She branched out, began working towards her own goals and wants. 

 Max was happy. Even happier as he got older and met Kim who was… everything.

Max was working when the door opened and Chloe wandered in, looking annoyed.

 “Your boy toy ruined my silk shirt.”

 “...Not the bee one.” Max sighed. Chloe scowled harder. “Shit, I’ll fund a replacement, promise.”

 “You better- that was an amazing shirt,” Chloe told him. “Either the money or I get to play tomorrow would be good payment.”

 “Kim’s been super excited about breaking this guy,” Max said, pulling up the information on the drug dealer they were dealing with. Some idiot who decided former heroes meant soft despite the bloody carnage they’d left in the wake. “He’s homophobic and Kim has dibs.”

 “He ruined my silk bee shirt because he got annoyed that someone said Horse wasn’t hot.” Chloe snapped.

 “...Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

 Kim and he were best friends. Alix to sometimes. He still felt lonely though and built a new friend one day. Markov was a great friend, funny and smart… 

 And sort of like his son. He loved it. 

 Things went sour though when Markov pointed out a few things he hadn’t noticed about Lila’s tales. When he stopped following the lies.

 “You’re nothing but the tech wiz- that’s all they use you for.” said the woman, leaning forward to show more of her chest. Max simply stared at her behind the glasses of his Miraculous. He felt Kaalki’s mutterings in his head and wanted to laugh. “We could appreciate you so more.” she reached up, smiling, to unbutton her shirt some more.

 “My boyfriend appreciates me,” Max replied. “And I’m more than the tech expert.” A portal opened under her and she was gone in a second. He rolled his eyes behind his glasses.

 Dumbasses never got that right.

 Lila spread rumours about him, that he was a cheat and a bully. Some believed it, some didn’t. He had Kim though, and Markov. He had everything he needed. He didn’t care what anyone believed.

 And then Alix smashed Markov when she believed Lila. 

She smashed his son.

 “Hey babe,” Kim kissed his boyfriend’s forehead. “What you doin’?”

 “...Looking at Markov’s data again.” Max replied. Kim didn’t move but then wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and held him for a long moment.

 “Babe…”

 “I just… I want him back.”

 “I know babe, I know.”

 Max lashed out and of course, he was overreacting, he was being STUPID. Bustier believed the liar. His mom didn’t, and it was awesome and okay but…

 Somehow he was put into his father’s care. And nothing could stop the beatings. He ran as soon as he could, running and running. Chloe took him in, hiding him in the hotel. He couldn’t go to school. Not if his father was searching for him.

 But then Kim was with him and he had his friends. Maybe… maybe it could be okay.

 “Hey mom,” Max said, tucking the phone under his ear as he frowned at the computer. Was… was someone stealing from them?

 “Hey honey, how’s the computer business?”

 “Good, hows astronaut training?” someone was. Damn it. Max began hunting that trail while listening to his mom chat.

 “When are you and Kim getting married?” she asked after a bit. Max laughed.

 “Oh, soon enough.” His mom laughed.

 “Alright honey. Don’t forget to invite me.”

 “I’d never.”

 When they beat Hawkmoth when Adrien was brought back… it should have been the end. He should have been able to go back home. 

 But it didn’t because people were sheep. They were sheep who listened to what they wanted and not the truth. They almost let their Ladybug, the Miraculous Team’s leader die because of their stupidity.

 Well, they wouldn’t get another chance to be so stupid.

 Max looked at his father, face impassive as the man begged for his life.

 “Have mercy,” the man begged. 

 “Where was my mercy when you were beating me?” Max asked before he pulled the trigger of the gun he was carrying. 

Messy. Boring. He’d much rather work behind the scenes. Leave this to the others. 

But it was a start.

-0-

Chaos had been Luka’s life since he was a kid. His mom encouraged it. She hated anything orderly.

 He and Jules were taken away five times because of her actions. Luka sometimes wished they stayed away.

 Luka winked at a pretty girl who was waiting eagerly for his signature. He signed the album, looking her up and down. Perhaps…

 A glimpse of red and black made him change his mind and he left without taking her back to his room. “Bug?” Luka asked as he entered into his limo. Across from him, Marinette smiled.

 “Sorry, just wanted to check-in.” Luka grinned.

 “Glad you did.”

 Luka never knew his dad. He kinda remembered Jules’ dad. He was an asshole. Anarka would yell if asked about either of their dad’s. Luka would wonder as a kid if her drinking was what drove him away.

 She drank a lot. She tried to recapture her glory days- Luka wasn’t stupid. She would rant at him while drunk. The reason she had to stop being a star. Why she couldn’t go back. Failure.

 Juleka tried. She tried so hard to keep herself together. Luka did for her. They only had each other.

 Luka loomed above the man on the ground, silent as ever. The dark- almost black- green of his suit nearly made him invisible in the warehouse. The man was shaking.

 “Please- we don’t-”

 “You take us for fools?” Kagami asked, her voice dangerous. “We know exactly what you have and don’t have. Shall we bring Horse in? Monkey will be so mad- he may want to play.” The man shook even more.

 Whimp.

Meeting Marinette was… was everything. She was sunshine and brightness and he knew something connected them. He wanted it romantic at first but then saw her with Adrien. 

 That connection was fireworks and beauty. He couldn’t get in between that. He was just happy to be their friend.

 Because that’s why they were. Friends. And it opened so much. He even started a band with his sister and some of her friends. 

 It was amazing.

 “So, what’s the inspiration behind your stage name?” asked the interviewer. “Model Snake.” she leaned in, her eyes slightly shiny with lust. Side effect of his new skill with the Miraculous- low-level hypnotism. 

 “My sister wanted to be a model for years,” Luka gave a small smile. “My way of honouring her.” 

 His other way was being the muscle and ears for his Lady.

Lila he knew was a rat from the start. He’d warned Juleka but she didn’t want to have to fight that. Not with the class against her. He let it go. He wanted her safe more than anything.

 He was there to offer an ear when Marinette needed it, needed someone to scream with.

 He was there when she handed him a snake bracelet and he started noticing the connections more. The snake may give second chances, but like other Miraculous, there were secrets hidden in its depths. 

 He was happy.

 “Jagged, my man!” Luka opened his arms and laughed when the older rock star gave him a hug. “It’s been ages!”

 “I know!” Jagged laughed. “But hey, rock n’ roll waits for no one.” The man sat down. “...Saw your mom.”

 “Yeah, she’s doing better,” Luka said. Both sat in silence.

 “If I’d known-”

 “Yeah, don’t worry I get it. Hey, wanna talk to Marinette?” Luka deflected. Jagged let him.

 “Yeah, nice to talk with her again!” Jagged grinned.

 It was always nice to talk to him.

Things went to shit when the others stopped listening to Lila. Her words, her lies affected them and he tried to keep them together. But he wouldn’t let her lie to him. She twisted the others of the band, made them turn against him. 

Except Juleka. She refused. 

 And it cost her.

 Luka slammed his fist into the nose of the man in front of him.

 “Please, look I know-” the man began but Luka grabbed him and threw him against the wall.

 “Lady Fortune wants a clean sweep. This whole gang dead or in jail.” Kim remarked. 

 “She was a hero.” said a voice and they turned to see Ivan sitting there. He looks different from when they were kids, gaunter, less larger than life. The two men traded looks.

 “All your’s man,” Kim said. Luka grinned.

 Rose wanted a prince. She wanted a fairy tale. So she broke up with Juleka. The rumours started flying. Slut, cheat, bitch. Juleka was panicking. 

 Luka tried to help. They all did. They all tried but soon she was falling. She was spiralling.

 It didn’t take her long to find the pills their mother thought she hid so well.

 “Your agent is skimming off the top,” said Max, studying the computer in front of him.

 “Really?” Luka groaned. “We just killed the last one for being a plant for the League. Kagami had a ball with that one.” 

“It’s what happens when you’re famous.” Max shrugged. “Want me to send Chloe?”

 “Sure. Alya and Nino will love it- she gets going after a night of fun. Maybe they’ll let me watch.” Luka made a face. “Haven’t gotten any in a while.”

 “Me and Kim are up for a third tonight if you want,” Max said as he pulled out his phone to text.”

 “Nice.” Luka grinned. 

 He would have fun that night.

 He lost Juleka. He lost her.

 He was happy Hawkmoth was there to punch. To nearly kill after he nearly killed Chat, their second in command.

 He was the one who was barely held together as Lila kept talking, as Lila kept speaking. As their leader nearly died.

 Luka snapped in ways he’d threatened to do since he was a child.

 Luka opened the door, humming as he stepped into the tiny room. On the small mattress on the floor, a small blonde was huddled up. 

 “Did you see the news?” Luka asked, grabbing the chair in the corner and sitting down. “King Ali marries a woman from England. A fairy tale come to life, no?”

 “Luka,” Rose breathed, looking up. “Please-”

 “Hmmm, perhaps another prince will come,” Luka said, interrupting her. “Perhaps you’ll get I don’t know… some prince? That’s why you broke my sister’s heart, isn’t it? That’s why you helped push her over the edge?”

 “I didn’t-” Luka laughed, loud and hard.

 “Oh, Rose. I don’t give a damn.”

-0-

Nino had an older brother and a little brother. He loved them very much and was very happy with his family.

 Then his older brother got involved in something. He got scared and left Nino with just a red cap and a house wondering where he went.

 Nino stopped being so happy.

 “You’d think they’d learn,” Alya said, leaning on Nino as Chloe laid across their laps. “Seriously. Isn’t it obvious when every time a club gets a new DJ their dirty business gets taken over?” 

 “That’s my superpower babe. No one notices me.”

 “Mmm, tragic,” Chloé said, leaning up to kiss him nice and slow. He grins. “No one could have thought you’d be so good at sneaking though. It’s interesting.”

 “It is what it is.”

He had to be a good kid. He had to be polite and kind and not rock the boat. His parents were trying to find his brother. His little brother needed someone to look after him.

 It wasn’t fair. He was just a kid and taking care of another kid. But it was okay. Maybe they’d find their brother soon?

 Yeah, that didn’t happen. And soon his parents stopped looking but never came home. To busy with their lovers and jobs to see Nino or Chris.

 Nino grabbed the woman and slammed her to the floor, snarling. It was odd to see the turtle themed man snark but it fit him so well.

 “You know I can fucking accept that you cheated us. I get that. You only cheated the Team because of your kid. That’s fine, we could have worked something out. But cheating on Snake? Nu-huh. Not gonna happen.”

 “Please!” The woman screamed and damn. Sure Luka hadn’t been planning on marrying her or some shit but he’d liked her enough to possibly discuss bringing her into the operations a bit more. And she cheated on him.

 Man, he hated that.

 Nino barely could stay awake in classes. He had his little brother to look after it was more important than this shit. But then he met Adrien. 

 He spent time with Marinette, got a girlfriend, had a support system to lean on when he just needed to be a kid and not Chris’ parent. Chris loved Alya, loved Marinette and Adrien. It was great, it was awesome.

 Then he became a hero and things just kept looking up. 

 Until they didn’t.

  “Ugh,” Nino groaned, glaring at his hands. “I hate the upfront shit.”

 “Sucks to be you, babe,” Chloé told him as Alya snorted. “But you have a job to do baby.” 

 “I know, I know.” Nino sighed. “I prefer the spy shit, my babes. Upfront killing is boring as fuck.”

 “And gross.” Alya agreed, wrinkling her nose at her own hands.

 “I love it.” Chloé grinned and Nino and Alya laugh.

 “We know babe. You’re a wild card when you have your fun.” Nino told her, taking a moment to bask in the presence of his lovers. When the hell did he get so lucky?

 Lila was whatever at first- cool but hey he knew Adrien and Marinette. But then her lies started getting a side-eye from him and Alya started frowning and things started going down.

 When they stopped paying attention to her- her lies were pretty but stupid to listen to- she started attacking them. Nino barely cared. His parents weren’t home, he was more worried about Chris and shit.

He even got another girlfriend- Chloe and Alya were amazing and they got how he was often busy with Chris. They helped him and Chris out and it was amazing.

 But then his friends? Nino’s fucking livelihood so he could pay for Chris and his shit cause his parents almost never remembered them? Attacking that? He nearly shattered.

 “So, DJ Bubbles, why that name?” asked the talk show host.

 “Well… I got akumatized into the Bubbler right? And me and my buddy Luka- Model Snake- were talking about it and I went: Why should I let Hawkmoth- Gabriel the fuck- take away bubbles from me? I love bubbles.”

 “So it’s about reclaiming something.” The host said. Nino pointed at her. 

 “Exactly. Got worse when that Lila cunt talked shit about us.” Nino said. The host winced a little.

 “Ah yes, that was… rather awful of her though she…”

 “Nah, she didn’t deserve what happened to her, but can’t say I liked her or wanna talk nice about her.”

 Oh, she did deserve exactly what she got, Nino knew that. But he couldn’t say. He had to play the game.

 When his bro nearly was fucking murdered by Hawkmoth, Nino was cracked, broken pieces slowly falling down. Lila’s bullshit made the cracks spread. 

 Then she had Chris taken away from him. Reported his parents. Nino was left- he was more or less self-sufficient but Chris? Nah. 

 If Nino could see him it would be different but they didn’t let him. He wasn’t allowed near and it broke him.

 He broke even more when Lila nearly killed their Ladybug. He broke enough he stopped giving a single fuck.

 “Hey kiddo,” Nino said into the phone as he grabbed the body and began dragging it. “How’s school?”

 “It’s great Nino!” Chris said over the phone. “It’s all so cool! Thanks for sending me here!”

 “Hey, if my bro wants an arts school he gets an arts school,” Nino said as he huffed and picked up the body. “Gross.”

 “What’s gross?”

 “A garbage bag got juice on me,” Nino replied, and Chris laughed at him. Nino ignored the fact he was carrying a body and instead asked his brother about his boarding school more. 

 He was happy his brother was happy.

@northernbluetongue  @ines-nz  @seraphichana, @glasswolff, @crazylittlemunchkin, @miraculous786, @viinaa08, @18-fandoms-unite-08 @hypnosharkrebeldreamer@my-name-is-michell @emjrabbitwolf

#broken heroes verse #miraculous ladybug #chloe/nino/alya #max/kim #tw suicide #tw murder #tw torture #tw captivity #tw child abuse #maribat almost

[kaypeace21]

I have a question but I just want to say first that I love your theories. They’re very well thought-out and interesting. Anyway, I wanted to ask if you could explain how Mike is queer-coded? I’ve seen you mention it and I’ve seen others talk about his attraction to androgynous El, but is there more? Thanks!

ALOT MORE! I talked about it here in the past- but without getting too much into s3 (since I’ve already talked about s3 byler extensively).I’ll just have links for everything I noticed in s3 at the bottom of this post. In regards to s1 and 2, Mike was heavily coded as queer. But most significantly this was done in s1- arguably he was more queer coded than Will ever was. I won’t get into all the details (we’d be here all day) but the highlights, at the top of my head are-

s1

- Mike in his his basement has a red heart being propelled by a rainbow.

- 4 separate characters said El looked like a boy, but Mike doesn’t care! Even one of the men thought El might be the missing ‘Byers boy’. When El loses her wig , Troy said “she doesn’t even look like a girl” to the cops. But Mike just calls her “really pretty”

-Nancy says “I thought you were acting weird, but I thought it was because of Will” And Mike responds “I thought you were acting weird too I thought it was because of Steve … Do you like Jonathan now”?” Nancy: “No, do you like Eleven?”. They literally compared the explicit love triangle between Steve/Nancy/Jonathan to the Will-Mike-El dynamic!

- Mike literally uses gender inclusive pronouns when talking about crushes using the word “someone” (3 times), and embarrassing himself because he can’t articulate the difference between friendship and romance. When he could of simply given the 80s heteronormative  answer of ‘when a boy likes a girl’.

Mike: “ you go to school dances with someone. 

You know someone that you like” 

El: “a friend?”

Mike: ‘not a friend uh … uh someone like a” (gives up and kisses her)

-Mike’s mom said “ What’s been going on with Will, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you. I just … want you to feel like you can talk to me. I never want you to feel like you have to HIDE anything from me” (she even emphasizes the word ‘hide”  (which is heavily queer coded)

- when Will ‘dies’, “we can be heroes” by David bowie (a bisexual singer) plays,   “And we kiss as though nothing could fall and the shame” is the lyric that plays when Mike returns to his house and cries in his mother’s arms over the ‘death’ of Will. Do I have to explain how ‘kissing and shame’ are queer-coded . And how such a lyric is oddly romantic- if we’re supposed to see their bond as nothing but platonic XD

-his dad jokes “Absolutely not” *turns to wife* “our son with a girl?”.

- when Lucas makes fun of his crush on EL, Lucas gets down on one knee  and says “ I love you so much, will you marry me?” and literally 1s later, we’re introduced to the bullies and the idea (for the first time) that Will is ‘gay’, and Mike is in the forefront of the scene and unlike his friends he is THE ONLY ONE physically assaulted (like a gay-bashing) .  They leave Lucas and Dustin unharmed. Even though Lucas just proposed to another guy- which should have gotten him a beating by the homophobic bullies.

It’s supposed to subconsciously hint Mike is queer like Will, and likes Will. The first interaction with the bullies, they mention Will being ‘gay’ right after they mention Mike’s crush on androgynous El and have a guy propose to Mike. Mike says to “ignore them” ( the homophobic remarks) but is assaulted anyways. And when asked what happed he doesn’t want to tell El the details cause he’s ashamed . 

2nd time the bullies talk about Will, Mike is once again in the forefront, unlike his straight friends who are in the background . But this time Mike initiates the confrontation), as the bullies say Will is “flying in fairyland with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay”. Mike was literally on the verge or tears at this comment (despite being happy a few moments earlier , telling the others to ‘act sad’ because they’d look suspicious other wise). But this is the comment where Mike snaps and pushes Troy back (because he took it personally/wanted to defend Will). 

The framing of Mike once again being in the front and snapping at the homophobic remarks (these gifs don’t do it justice, just rewatch the scene -Mike eyes water at the remarks). Then the last time the bullies appear , Mike jumps off the cliff and “flies like a fairy” (like Troy said) thanks to El . Troy at the police station even uses the word “fly” not levitate.

- Mike proclaiming “I’m the only one who cares about Will!” Seems like something a kid with a crush might say ( because obviously his other friends care about Will). But he thinks he cares the most.

-Mike sneaking out to find Will, as Steve sneaks in to Nancy’s. They both even make eye contact (and pretend not to have seen each other).

- they share dinosaur toys , in s1 and 2 they appear to be the only ones with dinosaur toys.

- The s1 mom hug scene where Mike feels he lost Will is paralleled in s3 - signifying how he lost him a 2nd time.

- Mike in the 1st ep being the one to insist on looking for Will in the rain (callback to s3). But he never went looking for El when he saw her through his window? Even when Mike saw Will’s dead body, the second he heard his voice he convinced his friends to help rescue him!

- You remember the binder (from s1) that Mike keeps, filled with 100s of Will’s drawings, and how he caresses the drawing after thinking Will was dead. That’s totes platonic.

s2

- Will in all 3 seasons identifies as a wizard. But in s2 Mike (the paladin) says Will is a cleric. Meaning this reflects how Mike actually feels about Will. In d&d, they have similar moral values, powers, and generally need and depend on each other in the lore of d&d. Paladins have similar healing powers to clerics, but clerics have stronger healing abilities - which is interesting since Mike has always been viewed as the protector. But to Mike Will has helped him (maybe deal with the loss of El and other trauma) , just by being there. And if Mike says Will is a cleric,despite Will still identifying as a wizard in s3, it shows how deeply Mike actually feels about Will. It shows he views Will as one of the only people who understands him and views him as a healing presence and his moral compass.

“ strength of conviction gave many paladins a sense of common fellowship but did not always endear them to others. In many cases, paladins did not get along quite as well with other non-paladin adventurers, with the exception of clerics with similar beliefs.”

“A Paladin tries to hold to the highest standards of conduct, but even the most virtuous Paladin is fallible. Sometimes the heat of emotion causes a Paladin to transgress his or her oath (of honesty, courage, compassion, honor ,and duty). A paladin who has broken a vow typically seeks absolution from a cleric who shares his or her faith or from another paladin of the same order. After a rite of confession and forgiveness, the paladin starts fresh.

-Mike stands next to Will under the rainbow poster

- Mike forces Will to dance with a girl, but you literally see Mike’s shocked expression like  ‘what,why’d I do that ?’ And after this, they show Dustin looking sad about Max/Lucas dancing and then they have Mike get into the frame (next to Dustin) and look sad when Will/girl are dancing in the same exact frame as Max/Lucas. As they switch between these 2 shots.

- All the mileven byler parallels or byler scenes were almost ALL initiated by Mike. If the parallels were meant to show a one sided love triangle (on Mike’s end). They would of made Will the instigator not Mike! Parallels can be watched here , start at 6:50)

-Mike initiated the “crazy together’ line- and in s3 he said ‘blank makes you crazy’. So subconsciously he knew the line had romantic connotations.

-Mike initiating the hand hold (with a zoom in shot) and in the show this is only done for romantic pairings. Also Mike being the one to initiate the ‘arm thing’ which is generally romantic. But in s3 , Lucas also does this, saying “I am spending quality time with my girlfriend’

-Mike saying, asking him to be his friend was the “best thing I’ve ever done”

-Mike constantly following Will around, asking if he’s okay or biking to his house to check on him. In s3 running out to chase Will to the garage and apologizing, and running into a storm to apologize a 2nd time.

YOU SEE A PATTERN! Mike is whipped! And is the one constantly chasing and pursuing Will, not the other way around! Before s3, people always portrayed Will as the (stereotypical- problematic trope of ) a sad-pinning-gay in a one sided love with Mike. It’s like people didn’t even watch the show (and just assigned tropes/stereotypes they wanted, that weren’t actually there). Will (probably too shy or scared to- because of homophobic taunts) never initiated a single byler moment- it was ALWAYS Mike!!! If people were actually objective, they would of thought it was Mike who was the one pinning! I talked about it here. 

We literally only saw Will pine or be jealous in s3 when Mike was in a relationship with El/when they fought.  

The cannon Spotify playlists

called ‘Mike’s basement beats’- These are character playlists that Spotify and St worked on together after s2.

-his first song is “small town boy” an 80s LGBT anthem about living in a small town and being queer and bullied. Every band member was openly gay.

-his 11th song is ‘don’t you want me’ from a “celebrate your gay pride” album

S3

I’m not repeating my literal essays so here are the links to pretty much all my s3 byler meta.  (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

- brief s3 mentions) it’s implied Will and Mike go on movie double dates all the time (right after he makes out with El). He celebrates the holidays (generally associated with introducing s.os) with Will/El. The breakup with El is treated comedically - and all Mike does is complain and burp on the couch. The byler breakup is serious (with the backdrop of rain)while Mike was visibly upset he hurt Will and apologized twice almost immediately . Running to the garage and then into the rain and banging on his door (s2 callback). The “it was the best thing I’ve ever done “ shed scene was shot purposely more romantic than the pool shed scene of “you’re the most important thing in the world to me”. The fact he think “blank makes you crazy”,and he used a similar line on Will in s2. The fact that Mike equates falling in love with girls as a part of growing up and his love for El as something “old people” say. While his affections for Will , he believes are childish (like d&d) and something he has to grow out of. The “I love her” scene was treated comedically. The last Mike/Will exchange vs Mike having his eyes open and not kissing El back . Not remembering he said “I love her”, and dismissing it as something he said in the heat of the moment. Mike looking back at the Byers house , then flashing to Will crying, than flashing back to Mike hugging his mom. Then those scenes having a monologue about not wanting feelings to change but how it’s inevitable.

Also we see in s3 (in El’s room) the return of the heart being propelled by a rainbow.

No hate, but I’m honestly flabbergasted when people think Mike is straight when he’s literally MORE queer coded than Will. Is it just my autistic brain seeing things as obvious, that others easily miss- or just people refuse to see it … or heteronormativity getting in the way?

gif credit : (not sure about the first 2, tell me if they’re yours so I can give credit), last 3 by  eggogorgon , the last gif by cath-avery

#byler #byeler #mike wheeler

[anxious-l0ser]

Still Into You

so um, i guess, welcome to my first full fic? idk, this was supposed to just be a ficlet, but my mind wondered and wouldn't stop, so now i have this lmao. this is basically a LAMP fic (only one chapter) in a rock band au, where Roman is the lead singer, Virgil is the guitarist, Patton is the bassist, and Logan is the drummer (generic, ik, let me live lmao) (also somebody please teach me how to tag shit, idk how-)

Ship: romantic LAMP

Warnings: concerts, ig? mentions of kissing, homophobia in the musical industry

The cheers from the crowd echoed back to Roman in a perfect harmony, his veins pumping the pure electricity from the energy in the room, and even their imperfect, gasping breaths for air seemed to mix perfectly into the internal beat of the room.

Roman had never felt such euphoria.

“Thank you, LA!”

Another round of applause and cheering caused Roman’s head to feel floaty, a dopey smile already playing around on his face as he tried to suppress the laugh bubbling up in his chest. He always found the feeling of performing intoxicating, and the presence of his bandmates was no help.

He couldn’t really stop feeling happy when surrounded by his secret lovers.

It was hidden pretty quickly after they figured out what kind of relationship they wanted, and it was hard. Of course it was. How could Roman resist for so long, when Virgil was so perfectly disheveled from giving it his all on his guitar? When Patton was giggling so happily that the crowd seemed to visibly grin back at him? When Logan looked so ready to start another song at any moment, but that didn’t stop the poorly hidden smirk that he had from pure pride in his drumming? Roman barely had enough willpower to kiss them all senseless, but they could do plenty of that backstage. Right now, they just had to be best friends for the crowd, and Roman had to stop himself from waxing poetry right there, in front of everybody.

“Thank you all for such a wonderful evening, you’ve been an amazing crowd!”

Roman was cut off again by their cheering, but he could never find it in himself to be angry at that.

“We have one more song for you, so let’s make it count!”

The excitement in the room was so contagious Roman couldn’t stop himself from laughing from the euphoric feeling of pure energy. He gave Logan a nod and a smile, and the other two shared a look before a familiar beat began, and the crowd cheered in recognition.

“If you know, why don’t you sing it with me!”

And Roman had the best performance of his life.

***

“Thank you, again. Are you sure you don’t need assistance in packing everything into the bus?”

Patton’s feet swang in the air as he sat on the edge of the stage, rocking left to right from the pure excitement of tonight’s performance. He watched Logan with a far-away look, his eyes really examining how beautiful he could look even after a 2-hour performance and 16-hour plane ride. It didn’t seem fair, but as long as he got to look at him, he supposed it was okay.

“I know, he looks so pretty.”

Patton jumped slightly, relaxing when he saw it was only Roman, giving him a dopey smile.

“He really is. Did you see that thing he did for track four? It was so cool, I didn’t expect it! Oh, oh, and then Virgil just played off of that and started adding a bunch of riffs, and don’t even get me started on that run you did, it just all worked so perfectly-!”

Patton could’ve ranted for hours on end about how perfect his lovers always seemed to perform, but he stopped to match Roman’s love-sick grin.

“Thank you, sunshine. You were...simply exquisite tonight! How you dare to have so much talent and beauty in you still astonishes me to this day.”

Of course, Patton had unlocked sappy Roman. He giggled as Roman started peppering his face with kisses, trying to mumble back as many compliments as possible for every one of Roman’s admirations. He didn’t even notice that they had a crowd until someone cleared their throat, and he turned to see a smirking Virgil, already shaking his head.

“Only half an hour and you’re already all over each other?”

He teasingly poked, sitting on the other side of Patton while the other two shared a smile.

“Can you blame me? How am I supposed to do another 49 2-hour performances without kissing my talented and beautiful boyfriends?”

“It’s called self-control, love.”

Logan remarked as he walked over, locking his phone after presumably shooting a text to their manager. His tie was usually pulled down before performances for comfort, more of a stylistic choice, but the first few buttons of his shirt were also unbuttoned, and his sleeves were rolled, comfortable for helping the crew pack up.

“How am I supposed to have ‘self-control’ when I’m faced with such temptation?”

Logan rolled his eyes but didn’t stop Roman from pulling him in by his waist for a kiss. Logan’s hands came to wrap around his neck and they didn’t go far once separated, their hands intertwined as Logan joined their tiny circle.

“You did amazing tonight, Specs. I know you’ve been working on that for months.”

Virgil remarked, sending Logan a smile. Logan shrugged sheepishly as the other two showered him with similar affections. They had a habit of doing that, getting lost in their own little world that the only words they could understand were ‘I love you’.

It was a miracle they heard their manager at all.

“Great performance tonight, guys. The parking lot is practically buzzing with energy, y’all really didn’t hesitate for this first performance.”

The group shared smiles and ‘thank yous’ with their manager, before he pulled his usual serious face.

“I talked to the agency today-”

“And?”

Roman perked up immediately, not able to stop himself from his curiosity. They had proposed making their relationship public during the tour, talking about how excited their fans must be and how many people were already suspicious of them. Forcing them to be together for 2 whole hours without any displays of affection or words of love or looks of passion was pure torture, even if tonight was their first night. It just wasn’t fair. But from the resigned look that their manager gave them, they knew they had lost this fight again.

“-and...they’re thinking about it, really. They aren’t sponsoring this tour, but they...they threatened again. To end the contract if you didn’t ‘behave’, which would mean...an unforeseeable future after this tour. As much as I want you to be happy with one another and open about it, this could be your last tour if you’re not careful.”

The happy, underlying tones from the evening were starting to blur into the harsh reality of the business they were in. Of course, they knew they would face homophobes and backlash. Their sales may dip, their shows may not be fully packed, and, the most terrifying, in Roman’s opinion, they may not get re-signed with their label. Yes, Roman despised them with every fiber in his being, and he regretted convincing his boyfriends to make a band with him under that label everyday, but he couldn’t be completely mad when they helped pay his bills. The reality of the situation sucked, but it was honest. Their careers could be ruined by their relationship.

***

The squeak of his office chair and the soft noise of his bouncy ball hitting the ground every so often was the only noise heard within their hotel room. Roman had been trying to figure out a solution for their label issue that wouldn’t land in their careers being ruined, but so far, his mind had blanked the entire morning, not a single idea good enough to even be written down. 

He had tried, really, he had, so hard last night to reassure his boyfriends that everything would turn out okay, that they’d be able to be proud of who they were while also doing what they love. And he had finally made progress, getting all three of them out of bed to get breakfast from a nearby cafe, and in that time, Roman had been able to find every single flaw in his argument. He had pinpointed the exact moment he lost hope in ever being truly happy, and now, his brain was just a down spiral of what-if’s and fears. 

There was the underlying promise that they’d never be able to be public about their relationship without jeopardizing their entire careers, and even though Roman would lay everything down for his boyfriends, he had never seen them happier since they started performing.

It was kind of funny, how much they despised each other when they first met. Even Patton, who held so much love for them now that he almost felt like he was suffocating without showing it, had hated Roman’s guts, and Roman didn’t blame him. He was an arrogant, loud, cocky teenager with the perfect voice but the worst attitude. He sassed anybody and everybody that came to his competitions that he found at least a tiny bit threatening, and when he saw Logan, he knew instantly that they could never be friends.

Logan was a stuck-up, booksmart, angry nerd that never got along with Roman to begin with, but when he started playing the ever-predictable violin at a competition, Roman had practically led the crowd to booing him offstage.

The next week, when Virgil had mustered up enough courage to play piano at a competition, Roman was a little more generous at how nervous he seemed, but didn’t think twice about embarrassing him once he was off stage, mockingly babying him until he left.

Patton had showed up at the competition at the end of the month, and Roman had already seen how much fun he would have tormenting him. He was a too-nice-for-his-own-good kind of kid, with a smile that seemed too rehearsed, and Roman hated how well he was able to talk to the judges after singing a song. Singing was Roman’s thing, so he went all out for his performance, purposely using Patton’s performance as an example of what one shouldn’t do on stage. 

Roman was an absolute bitch.

And he regretted it, he regretted it to this day, despite his boyfriends constant attempts to reassure him that they were just kids, they were just young stupid teens that were all terrified of what people thought of them. Because Roman didn’t mean to be rude, but that’s the only way he knew to survive, after years of being in the same toxic friend group. When Virgil had stumbled upon Roman’s friends, it all seemed to click, and he still held a certain degree of resentment against him for bullying him. But when he told Logan and Patton, who he had managed to befriend, he had never seen Patton switch so quickly.

He organized a day for them all to hang out, despite all of their protests, and even though Roman really didn’t want to at the time, he still showed up. They talked and talked, growing more and more comfortable with one another as the time passed. At some point, Logan had asked Roman for critiques, but genuine critiques. No comparing performances, no school-yard name calling, and no rude names. Just genuine notes that Roman thinks can genuinely improve their performances. Because, even though young Logan never would’ve admitted it, Roman knew how to win those competitions.

So Roman did. He gave them notes. He talked about how talented they were (probably for a little too long, but he won’t say admit that) and how they could improve a bit of stage performance. That meant different things to all of them, but one day, Roman invited them over to his house to hang out again. Because this time, he would prove it to them. Yes, they were talented. Just at different things.

So when Patton played the bass like he was born playing, when Logan was able to find the beat of a song after only two seconds, and when Virgil was able to find all the notes on a guitar in record time, Roman knew they had found their element. It wasn’t that they weren’t talented. It was that they were talented in different things.

Roman almost didn’t hear his boyfriends return until the hotel door clicked close, and he looked up. They all looked varying degrees of concern, but after coming straight out of a daydream, there was a flash of them when they were still just kids. Smiling, ignorant, hopeful kids. The ones he fell in love with. 

“Ro? Are you okay?”

Patton approached him slowly, picking up a few of the crumpled up pieces of paper that Roman had thrown everywhere, throwing them away before placing his hands on Roman’s shoulders. Logan and Virgil joined shortly after, placing their breakfast on the table before Virgil sat on the floor next to Roman’s chair, holding his hand, and Logan stood in front of him, taking the other hand and placing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“Yeah….yeah I’m okay, now.”

Patton sighed out in relief, resting his forehead on Roman’s neck. Roman pulled on Logan’s hand until their foreheads were touching, and he squeezed Virgil’s hand. This is what he truly loved. Sure, the feeling of pure energy coursing through his body after a performance was wonderful. But just being here, existing with his loves, kissing them whenever he pleased and telling them, openly, about how much he loved them? That was a feeling that could never be replaced.

So screw the label, and the sales, and the homophobes, and all the people that’ll try to end his career. Roman was happy with his loves, and nothing could ever stop him from showing it.

“I...I have an idea for our performance tonight.”

***

Roman’s nerves were shot with pure adrenaline and he couldn’t believe this was real life. Standing on an entirely new stage in a different part of California, his hand on his mic, the cheering and pure excitement after completing their first song. It was like a drug to Roman, but the giddiness of what he was about to do next was partly to blame for his contagious smile and random giggling.

“Good evening, LA! How’re you doing tonight?”

Cheers and laughs were repeated back to him and Roman laughed out of sheer nervousness, his hands subtly shaking, but he was able to play it off.

“So tonight is actually a really special evening! You may not know why yet, but after this next song, you definitely will! It’s brand new, we’ve actually all been working on it for weeks, and we’re so excited to share it with you, called Still into You. So, this next song is dedicated to them.”

Excited squeals burst around Roman’s brain, and he smiled, nodding at the tech crew backstage. It was like a movie reel, a countdown from three and they started singing, their hands a bit jumpy from nerves but still perfectly combined to feel right. Pictures started flashing up on the screen behind them all, first of all of them as kids, getting to know each other all the way to high school. Pictures of a young Roman winning his first singing award, Logan and Patton’s first duet. Their first ever performance as a band was during a talent show, junior year. The crowd laughed and smiled at each photo, dancing along to the melodic singing of all of them together, but then came Roman’s favorite moment. 

Logan’s drumming started to quiet down, and all you could hear within the room was their instruments humming out the heart of the song and Roman’s voice.

“I’m into you. Baby, not a day goes by that I’m not into you! I should be over all the butterflies-!”

And just like that, it all came back, Virgil and Patton joining him on harmonies. And the pictures changed, and suddenly there was some understanding. Because the first photo, after Roman’s high note, was all four of them. Holding one another. And another, of them kissing. And another, more affectionate, more domestic, more loving than the world had ever seen them. And cheers could be heard, of excitement, of passion, of understanding, as everybody finally got a peek into their last few years. 

By the time they finished, the crowd was cheering louder than Roman even thought was possible. He was smiling, bigger than he ever had on stage, and he laughed out of the pure relief he felt of finally being able to say it. He loved them. He loved them with his entire being, and he wouldn’t ever try to hide it again. The crowd quieted only somewhat to let him speak, and when he did, he had to clear his throat to not tear up.

“The last four years of my life, I have never been so happy as I am with my boyfriends. And to say that they’re the loves of my life doesn’t even begin to cover how much I love them. Because I do. I fucking love them!”

The pure adrenaline coursing through their veins was reciprocated with so much support that all four of them couldn’t help but smile.

So no, Roman wasn’t worried about his career, or what he’d do at the end of the tour. What he cared about was that the entire world knew that he had found his soulmates. And he would never stop loving them.

#sandersides #sander sides #logan sanders #logansanders #virgil sanders #virgilsanders #roman sanders #romansanders #patton sanders #pattonsanders #lamp #LAMP

[drwhamrccola]

02-01-2021

I’m having the worst of times right now. I feel terrible all the time. I’m always tired. My family and I constantly butt heads, and now I’m falling out with my online friends as well. Feels like I can’t have anything.

I feel like my parents favor my younger sister over me because she’s smaller and younger. This could be excused if she were a baby. She is not. She will be eighteen this summer, and I will be twenty-one next week. I am having to study from home now because of the virus, and the uptick in necessary chores for living at home is awful, especially because of the inequality between me and my sister. For example, when it’s her day to clean the kitchen, she will pitch fits about me not washing every dish I dirty, even though cleaning the dishes is the job of the person who has the kitchen that day. Mother will make me do it, citing that I should always clean up after myself. On my days to clean, Chloe will leave massive messes out from her baking projects and just from daily use. Now, mother will say that it doesn’t matter who dirtied these dishes. What matters is that we’re a family, and sometimes we have to buckle down and clean up after one another. 

Another example, from back before the virus, when I was going to community college, was that when I was in marching band and I went away to competitions, my parents would remind me that I would need to spend my Sunday back catching up on the chores I missed on my trip. When Chloe started leaving, they would tell me that it was my responsibility to make sure her chores were all done in a timely fashion since she wasn’t here to do them. Bringing this up only earns eyerolls, and I am never taken seriously. My sister herself acknowledges that this is true. She gets the easier of all situations because she’s the baby of the family, even though she’s about to be an adult. However, she won’t go to bat for me with this, because she enjoys the privilege of the favoritism, and she tells me that I should just stick it out until I can go back to school later this year. 

My dad is a whole other story. He used to abuse me physically, switched gears into emotionally and mentally, and now, though my interactions with him have lessened in quantity, he is either neutral or mean, but not quite abusive anymore. Becoming an adult who understood that how he treated me was illegal really gave me a leg up. But I still hate him. He is racist. He is misogynistic. He is homophobic. He is transphobic. And best of all, he is a liar. Saying that he is a liberal, voting Democrat, saying that he hates all the bad things and loves all the good things. In the same breath, though, gay men are disgusting and lesbian women are hot. Transgender folk are mutilating themselves with mental illness as an excuse to become abominations. Jewish people are naturally greedy, and black people are naturally more harsh and savage-like. My friends are all in different states of disposition with him. Some never want to meet him. Some want to meet him to see if it’s all true (which makes no sense, as I’ve explained that part of why he never got in trouble for treating us so badly is because he’s so outwardly charismatic that nobody ever believes it). Some are literally banned by their parents from being in my house while he is in it.

My issues with my friends are complicated. I Co-DM a D&D campaign with somebody. After playing since September of 2020, one of our players has attended about 10% of total sessions, despite contributing to the scheduling process and swearing he’ll be there. When he finally started being more consistent a week ago, the dynamic was so strange. The stakes of the adventure had changed so drastically over time, plus nobody had a relationship with his character, though technically he’d been with them the whole time. A few people mentioned to us that it was odd pretending to be his close friend when they didn’t have that connection, so we decided to ask him to create a new character, still at level, but fresh so the party could get to know him without it having a strange tone to it.

My Co-DM decided to take the reigns on asking him. It seemed to go fine. He appeared to be receptive to the reasoning and compliant. Then he changed his name in our Discord server to just a period. Doesn’t bode well. Then his girlfriend, the one I’m personally close with, left almost all of our mutual servers. We asked if something was wrong. Radio silence. Over the span of a week, they slowly withdrew their presence from all of our shared spaces. They even kicked only us out of their art server. It was pretty clear what was happening. Ghosting.

I hated that they were doing something like that to us, and I decided to just rip off the bandaid and get it over with. I messaged them for the last time that I was sorry something had come between us, wished them luck in the future, and blocked them both. A mutual friend who also thought I was being ghosted decided to get the truth of the situation, and she succeeded. Apparently they intended on coming back, they just needed space from us because they thought we were very disrespectful and we guilt-tripped the boyfriend. The vibes with all of my friends are weird now. Even though everyone agrees that I had every right to think I was being ghosted, some people think that I should chalk it up to a simple misunderstanding at get ready to make peace. Others think that the couple owes me an apology for refusing to communicate to me what was happening. The most extreme opinion I’ve heard is that they did this on purpose to trigger my RSD. 

We talked about our mental issues, as friends online do, and I brought up that I had really bad RSD as a symptom of my ADHD. I told everyone, “If you guys decide you hate me or something and try to make a big thing out of it, you won’t get the opportunity. I don’t negotiate with that kind of thing, because I will  become sad for days and get sick.” We didn’t really take it seriously because we didn’t expect this to happen. But a close friend says the couple decided to make it look like they were ghosting me to trigger my RSD, forcing me to feel guilty for how I treated them. I don’t personally think that’s true. I sure hope it isn’t. But the group isn’t going to be mended anytime soon. The couple left so many servers, most of which are owned by people who shun them for their actions. One of them I’m almost certain won’t let them back in again. 

Speaking of my RSD, this did trigger it, so if that’s what they were going for then they succeeded. I couldn’t concentrate on my schoolwork at all because of it, even though I really tried to. I had the work in front of me, I was technically trudging through, but I absorbed nothing and rarely got correct answers. So I am now missing three homework assignments. My birthday is in a week and I’m afraid I’m going to be too sad to care about it. Worse still, I made a lemon cake today to lift my spirits. Making it was fun, but I could only taste bitter despite the sugar in it. As well, I couldn’t taste my lunch as well as I thought I should. So, maybe throw some COVID into the mix.

I’m taking a break from discord to get away from all the drama that’s come about from D&D. So in the meantime I’m going to keep venting here. Away from everybody else.

#personal #blog post #depression #rejection sensitive dysphoria #abuse #favoritism

[pivitor]

Emotional Roller-Coaster This Week

So, the last eight days have been an absolute whirlwind. Some really great things happened. Some really bad things happened. I’m kinda still reeling. I had some big firsts, and spent some time with great friends, had some real catharsis. I also fell further into depression than I have in a long, long time, and, oh yeah, got diagnosed with a chronic illness.

I need to get this all off my chest, cause I’m drowning. Join me? 

Before we start, there’s two things you need to know about me. Both are things I’ve mentioned in bits and pieces on here, but here’s the full story:

1. Three months ago I had shoulder surgery to repair a torn labrum (I technically tore it when I dislocated my arm in high school, and it’s been popping out on me once every other year or so ever since, but my most recent [and now final] dislocation was very bad and sent me right to the doctor). I spent about two weeks out of work, just sitting at home on the couch in a sling. The pain wasn’t great, but it was worse mentally: I put on a couple pounds and immediately started to feel terrible about myself, and being stuck at home when I wanted to be out there, doing stuff with friends or with guys or to reach a point where I can move out, felt terrible. I wasn’t in a great headspace for a long time. As of now I have about 95% of my arm function back, and am fully healed, just trying to get back the last of my range of motion and gradually increase back to my old strength threshold.

2. This one is a bit more complicated. I’ve talked a lot here about how I grew up in a cult, but I never went into further detail. Well, here we go: I was a J*hovah’s W*tness. (I’m censoring this because I don’t want this showing up in searches) It wasn’t something I would have ever chose for myself, but when you’re born into it, you’re pretty heavily indoctrinated -- I thought it was the gospel truth despite having many reasons not to. They’re a very homophobic organization, so growing up in it wrecked my self esteem. My entire childhood and time as a teenager I thought I was worthless and doomed, destined for eternal destruction. I was often suicidal. When I was about 18 or 19 the cult printed an article “clarifying” their view on homosexuality, and said they recognized that some people are just naturally attracted to the same gender and as long as they don’t act on it they’re still “acceptable” to God. It’s dangerous bullshit that makes me so angry now, but as a brainwashed, suicidal teenager, it felt like the only chance I had to live a worthwhile life, so I got baptized into the religion, which is the biggest mistake I have ever made in my life, because once you’re a baptized member of the cult, if you leave you’ll be shunned by everyone you’ve ever known. Your own parents will treat you as if you’re dead. I was very zealous for a year or two before realizing that I just couldn’t do it anymore, but it’s taken me nearly ten years to fully wake up from the indoctrination, read information from outside religions, scientists, and former members who have left. Currently I still live with my family and have to pretend to still believe (because the moment I don’t they’ll kick me out on the street), and am on the cusp of two promotions at work. As soon as those go through, I should be able to save money to move out, which I wanna do before the summer, and then I’ll be completely free.

Okay, the rollercoaster week itself:

Pre-Monday: For about a week, a week and a half before this all started, I’d been experiencing some pain in my side that was making it hard to sit up for long periods of time. This normally would’ve been a major red flag, but thanks to the shoulder surgery, I’d been having random back pains off and on recently anyway. I assumed it was related to me overcompensating for the shoulder and left it alone. Big mistake.

Monday: So one of my promotions at work involves a coaching center we’re launching. We were supposed to do our first presentation last Monday, and when my boss showed up for it, everything fell apart. It wasn’t totally my fault -- the general condition of the office itself wasn’t up to par, and the boss recognized that there wasn’t much I could do about that -- but a lot was, and I spent all week trying to fix things and get them running, and running into one major roadblock and frustration after another. We’re finally doing the presentation today, but it technically still isn’t 100% fixed. Work has been a major, major source of stress all week. I don’t think I’ll mention it again because there’s not much more to it than what I’ve listed here, but remember that it’s hanging over my head all week.

Monday night I was invited to a birthday party for a friend from my gym. Since the cult doesn’t celebrate holidays, I’d never actually been a birthday party before, complete with cake and singing happy birthday and everything. It was really nice -- even though it was truly just a bunch of guys hanging around a bar watching the Eagles, it still felt like something really special. I also spent about a half an hour in my car before I walked into the bar trying not to hyperventilate. I don’t feel guilty at all as I may have once, but I was still really worried about being seen by someone and my family finding out.

Wednesday: Tuesday was my only truly normal day of the week, and even then, we had my cousin staying with us up until Wednesday, so even then it wasn’t truly normal. We normally have church on Thursday nights (I have to attend so as not to blow my cover, but I tend to stand in the lobby and play on my phone the entire time; it’s a nice chance to catch up on my reading usually), but I had a concert on Thursday I was not going to miss, so I told my parents I was going to a different congregation on Wednesday night, but instead I went to Starbucks and caught up on Crisis on Infinite Earths. It’s...depressing that this is what I’m reduced to, but I was happy that it finally occurred to me to just...lie about it.

When I got home and took off my shirt to change into my pajamas, I noticed a patchy, red rash on my stomach, side, and back, right around the same area I’d been having pain for the last week or two. I’d absolutely never had anything like this happen before, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. I crossed my fingers that it was an allergic reaction, put some cortisone cream on it, and decided to wait a couple days to see if anything changed.

Thursday: On Thursday I drove up to Philly after work, and ate a few slices at my favorite pizza place, reading comics, until it was time for the concert. It was a free show from Pkew Pkew Pkew, a band I truly, truly love, and it was one of my favorite shows of the year. Just pure joy. They played for about an hour, but were the opening act, and I don’t care for the headliner (Beach Slang), so I had originally had a few ideas about what I could do afterwards, considering that their set was over by 10 or so. I could go home (coward’s option), I could go to the Barcade. What I really wanted to do was go to a gay bar or club. I’d gone right before my surgery and had a great time, but I’d been avoiding going back (or joining a dating app or anything else) until my arm fully healed because it would very much have gotten in the way of doing anything physical. I was finally in the place where I could use my arm, but now I had that strange mysterious rash, and didn’t think it was right to do anything like that until I’d figured it out/gotten it cleared up. I don’t wanna pass anything on to anybody.

By sheer coincidence, Philly’s Emo Night ended up being this very same night (this one is held once a month), so I ended up heading over there and dancing until 2AM. I got very drunk and had a fantastic time. But there were a lot of couples. There was this girl that kept hitting on me, and then getting pissy when I didn’t reciprocate. There was this extremely hot dude in a Misfits hoodie, and early in the night we were the only two who were dancing, and he gave me a high five that he pulled into a bro hug after the song, which got me all riled up, but I couldn’t work it into anything else haha. And then this group of about four guys or so showed up, dancing all night, very affectionate, cupping each other’s faces when they talked to each other and all that. I’d seen them before and both times thought they might be gay, so I stuck close and was kinda part of their group for the night, which was really really fun. At the end of the night, one of them mentioned their girlfriend, and I reeled way more than I had any right to. I had a fantastic night. I went home feeling very alone.

Friday: Friday was my gym’s Christmas Party, which, much like Monday, was my first ever Christmas Party. I had a really fun time chatting with everyone, eating, watching one friend get drunk, try to jump up on the rings, and get dragged home by his wife. We had rowing contests and the losers had to take shots. But there was one guy there I’ve always had a crush on, a very straight, very married guy, and he was looking extremely hot and was acting extremely funny all night, and it was rough. I went home and dreamed about him all night. I woke up feeling even more alone and frustrated.

Saturday: I was pretty depressed and listless by this point. Feeling really sorry for myself despite all the fun I’d had all week. I had plans to drive up to Asbury Park for an Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties show and I just...really didn’t feel like going. But I drug myself out of bed and made myself go, because you don’t miss the gig. Before the show I wandered around Asbury, basically torturing myself. I wanted to visit a restaurant but had eaten lunch too late and wasn’t hungry. I found a gay club but still had that rash, so I didn’t wanna go in. I ended up standing on the beach, in the dark, finally having a genuine smile as I dodged the waves, but also just thinking about how sometimes Kangaroos just walk into the ocean and...never come back. I was not in a good headspace. I made myself get off the beach.

The show though...damn, that show. Dan played the second Aaron West album, Routine Maintenance, from front to back, and it’s an album about Aaron making the people in his life proud of him, about his friends giving him direction, about finding redemption through being there for his family in their darkest hour. That kind of shit is my kryptonite to begin with, but all I could think about was how all I had ever wanted in my life was to make my family proud, and how I’d never be able to do it, how someday soon they’re just...never gonna talk to me again. I cried twice during the set. And afterwards I got to hug Dan and tell him how much the album fucks me up. It was really cathartic. I felt the cloud start to lift.

Sunday: So Sunday I finally go to the doctor about this fucking rash, which hadn’t gotten any worse but had not gotten any better either. The diagnosis?

I have fucking shingles.

For those who don’t know, shingles is the chicken pox virus. After you’ve had chicken pox it never really leaves your body -- it stores itself away in your nerves. As an adult, it can reemerge as shingles, which begins as an intense pain, then advances into painful rashes on one side of your torso. Without intervention, they can continue to spread and become almost immobilizing. I’m currently on a pill I have to take three times a day for seven days, which will stop the progression of the shingles, and then it will heal up on its own, but it could take a few weeks.

Thankfully, I’m not contagious -- I can only spread the disease if someone has prolonged, direct contact with the rashes. I can be around people, but like I feared, it does rule out sex for a while. The worst part is that shingles as a disease can’t really be healed. The symptoms will go away, but I’ll be susceptible to outbreaks the rest of my life. Fortunately, the doctor made it sound pretty manageable -- the pain in my side, in that exact same spot, will always be my first symptom, so as soon as I feel that I need to get to a doctor and get back on the seven day medication to end the flare-up. It doesn’t sound like shingles flare-ups are super common either -- reading up on it, it looks like most people have, at the most, three outbreaks in their life. But, it’s still a chronic illness, and it’s one that’s very rare to emerge at this young of an age -- this is something you normally get in your fifties or sixties, not your early thirties! 

Honestly, I could only laugh. Just my luck, right? I’m so frustrated. My arm’s finally reached the point where I can get back to trying to pursue guys, but nope! the shingles has to postpone it a few more weeks :/

But despite it all, the depression of the rest of the week had mostly lifted. I had processed it. I was feeling better. For a while.

Back in the spring I had joined a subreddit for former members of the cult, which is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, as it let me share my story with people who had been there and understood, and really helped clear out the last remnants of the programming from my brain. Every once in a while different gay Ex cult member will contact me on there, and I’ve struck up a few nice casual friendships. Last week a guy reached out to me on there looking for friends in the same situation as him, and I replied, and on Friday he finally replied back, and we texted each off and on Saturday and Sunday morning. Sunday night, though, we got into a deeper conversation. He’s in his early twenties, and some of the stuff he was asking for advice about made it sound like he was just starting to wake up from the programming and just starting to think about leaving and being gay and everything. Eventually, as we talk more, I find out that that’s not fully the case. He’s jealous of some of the stuff I’ve done that he hasn’t -- going to Pride, going to gay bars -- but unlike me, he’s had a fair amount of sex. Like any closeted Witness, he had to drive into unfamiliar cities to do so, and it’s a strategy I’ve thought of trying but never pulled off. 

I dunno, I’m so depressed. I feel like such a failure. I know having sex doesn’t make you a better person, and not having sex doesn’t intrinsically make you a failure. But I feel like this because I want it so badly, because I always have, and I could have been doing it for years, and I’ve been really forced to confront the fact that it’s my own fear that’s been getting in my way all this time. If I’d really tried I could’ve done it by now. If I really tried I probably could’ve moved out and started my new life by now -- I’d probably be dirt broke in an apartment with like eight roommates, but I could’ve done it. I don’t feel like anybody else, including this guy I was chatting with, have been judging me for this, but I’m pretty disgusted with myself, irrational as it may be. I know it’s not true, but I feel like my whole life has been a waste of time. And I’m so fucking sick of it.

So. This is everything I’ve been processing this week. I don’t really know what to do with it. I’ve gotta be patient a little while longer. Keep working on my real estate licensing test so I can make some more money. Wait for the shingles to heal up. Get on Grindr and just, fucking, fuck some dude the moment I’m cleared up.

But fuck, I’m so fucking sick of waiting.

#pivitor

[go-diane-winchester]

SPN ending could be Misha's fault

When J2 decided to end SPN, most dignified individuals were very respectful of their decisions despite the fact that it hurt something fierce.  However there were those who were speculating as to why J2 finally decided to call it a day.  Jensen did give a potential reason during VegasCon this past weekend. 

The Budget

They got a question about what ideal location they would choose to shoot an episode if they had a choice.  Jensen went off on a tangent about shooting on the road, and then mentioned that if they had the budget for that, then they would still have a show.  So one of the reasons, was the budget

The Ratings

During a January 2019 interview with Deadline, Mark Pedowitz, CW president said the following: ���As long as the ratings hold up and the guys (stars Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles) want to do it, it’s really that simple. They have created something about these two brothers that actually transcends.”  Jensen also said, during the panels, that the show ending was a joint decision, as everyone involved with show did not want the show to fizzle out.  They wanted the show to go out strong.  According to Deadline, Supernatural was a potent ratings performer, ranking as the CW second most watched and highest rated among adults 18-49 series in Live+Same Day only behind The Flash.  However, if the show is such a high performer, why would Jensen talk about it fizzling out and what did he mean by that?  It meant, in my humble opinion, that despite the fact that the ratings were good, there was potential for it to lose viewership in the coming future and end disgracefully.  Perhaps, analysis of the rating chart was showing that in the future, SPN had the potential to drop too much in the ratings, and they wanted the show to end in a dignified manner rather than ''being booed off the stage'', according to Jared many years ago.   

So Jensen mentioned the budget and the ratings fizzling out as the reason for SPN's demise.  The joint decision was not to an easy one because, according to Jensen, they had discussed it for years.  So J2 don't want the show to end.  They need to end the show with dignity before its too late and they lose too many viewers.  I can understand that.

So whose fault is it that the show suffered from budget problems and dangerous future ratings?

Misha made a joke about SPN continuing without J2 and instead starring him and Richard, and Jensen gave a savage reply which I laughed at.  Unfortunately hellers assume that I cant understand the joke.  On the contrary, how do they know Jensen was joking?  If Jensen says the budget and the fizzling ratings are the reasons for SPN ending, and he is smart man, then he has to place some blame on Misha for the expensive and pointless spinoff that made a dent in the budget and contributed to the potential drop in ratings due to the lack in new material for SPN. 

Well, @kaitlyn7777 ​​, the spinoff was Misha's doing.  He badmouthed the show in 2013, during his panel, by convincing his own band on minions that SPN is a sexist show, and his top tier minions decided that having a female cast in a spinoff would be the way to rectify that grievous wrong.  The reason why he wasn't fired for that was because Bob Singer is his backstop.  Bob Singer is potentially the reason Castiel was brought back after being killed off in Season 7.  Bob Singer and Andrew Dabb, Misha's fan boys gave the following joint statement about the ending:  ''We’d like to give special thanks to Jensen, Jared and Misha for making this journey so special. It is now most important to us to give these characters that we love the send off they deserve”.  Every other person from Pedowitz to Jeffrey Dean Morgan credited Jensen and Jared.  These two bum boys had to mention SPN's most glorified part time actor. 

Since S7, Castiel has been doing nothing meaningful on SPN.  Season 8 to 13 could have easily been written without him.  Despite being Misha's bum boys, even they knew how talentless he is, so they kept him on the show doing just enough to not damage the ratings.  That is why despite the minion claims that Misha is pivotal to the success of SPN, he was never given lead status or more screen time.  Castiel never got his own spinoff.  That status has never changed because even the execs realize how unimportant this guy is.  Castiel is one of the expensive dents in the budget.  They are literally paying him to take up space.   

Anyway, his fans started campaigning for an all-girl spinoff.  The show execs, fearing bad publicity, decided to comply.  Dabb and gang started sharing their own budget, time and talents between SPN and the new project.  That is when Donna and Claire got written into canon so that they can move onto the spinoff when the time came.  SPN's own storyline suffered because the writers simply could not give it the focus it needed.  That would explain the ratings.  Only Misha's fans were doing any kind of campaigning.  The rest of us didn't think that SPN was racist, sexist, homophobic or whatever other accusation the minions wanted to fling at the show.  Because the minions and their sock accounts, gave the illusion of a majority, CW thought that launching a new spin off will secure a new batch of viewers for the next 3 to 5 years at least.  Just long enough to go into syndication. 

Unfortunately, the spinoff bombed in the ratings, because twitter handles can be faked but ratings cant.  And other casual viewers didn't want to watch a ''girl power'' show with lackluster, under talented young girls complete with forced femmeslash.  The spinoff was understandably canned and minions started to campaign for its comeback.  Mark Pedowitz announced the following:  “I’ll say it again, if there was a spinoff to be had, I’d love to have it.  That said, I’ve come to somewhat of a conclusion that the show is the two brothers.”  The fact that the President of a Network, who is in charge of many other shows, has to step in to shut down further talks of a spinoff for this one show, can tell you what an annoying group the minions are. 

With the spinoff in the crapper, SPN now had a bunch of characters they didn't know what to do with.  Characters like Jody, Donna and Claire.  SPN cant kill off these useless characters because girl power and misogyny and whatnot.  So they have keep them on board.  These people are expensive add-ons.  In order to make place for them, SPN initially got rid of other characters like Bobby, Garth and Charlie.  Now that SPN is stuck with them, more characters had to be removed including Crowley.  According to Mark Sheppard, he and Misha Collins were told to take a 70% pay cut and lose their series regular status so that SPN could secure Alex Calvert and Pellegrino.  Mark said no because the deal was insulting, but Misha said yes. 

Its funny that they wanted to ''secure'' Alex and Pellegrino so desperately, but don't know what to do with their characters now.  So the thing that makes me smirk is that I think they were hoping Misha will also say no like Mark did.  They wanted to get rid of him.  They cant fire him because Bob wont let them. They were hoping Misha will leave on his own.  Unfortunately for them, Misha shamelessly took the offer.  Plus, he needs Castiel for all his other ''projects'', so a pay cut didn't bug him.  He is making a killing from Gish, because whether you like to admit it or not, Gish is business.   

Because of that blunder on the part of the writers, now they are stuck with Alex and Pellegrino, in other words two extra expenses.  Then [I blame the shitty writers for this because it makes no sense] they started bringing unnecessary old actors back, including Felicia, Osric, Jim Beaver and Samantha Smith.  There is literally no reason for bringing back Mary.  The only necessary character for a few seasons now, was Michael.  All this character juggling happened because they didn't spend time and thought on SPN due to the spinoff that Misha wanted.  Why did he want the spinoff?  According to Ruth Connell, he wanted a new home for Castiel, just in case SPN shut down. 

Misha was like the parasite that ate the show he was already on, from the inside out, in order to secure a future for himself.  And I think Jensen knew about it all along.  That joke was a fantasy of Misha and Jensen saw right through it.  Misha would die of happiness if he had a show all for himself.  Why do you he pushed destiel so much?  Because it kept him close to Dean and therefore relevant.     

https://deadline.com/2019/03/supernatural-to-end-after-season-15-on-the-cw-1202581010/

https://deadline.com/2019/01/supernatural-success-and-spinoff-potential-cw-tca-1202547014/

#misha #jensen ackles #destiel #cockles #jenmish #jensen and misha #deancas #casdean #dean x castiel #castiel #cas #bi dean #dean is bi #dean and cas #jenmisheel #dean winchester #destiel headcanon #jdvm #misha collins #sam winchester #sam and dean #jensen and jared #wincest #supernatural #jared padalecki #padackles #performing dean #sabriel #sammy winchester #j2

[ilovemygaydad]

Friends in Dark Places [ch 11]

pairing: eventual moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: mentions of abusive family members, crying, mentions of self harm, mentions of suicidal ideation, homophobia, gross/rude comments, rumors, swearing, losing one’s temper, yelling, bullying, bruises, injury due to bullying, internalized homophobia, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: so i have to repost all of these in a different format! yay fucking me!!!! please consider reblogging these if you’re a fan of this series because it’s all fucked up now

first - previous - next - companions

consider buying me a coffee (please)

-

Although Virgil had relapsed since he’d been released from the hospital, Patton was still so proud of him. He was making a lot of progress towards recovery, and it was wonderful to Pat that his new friend was feeling better about himself. Virgil was, regardless of his moments of weakness, extremely strong.

Virgil held himself together when Patton had practically screamed at his dad. He’d stayed completely calm when he lifted up the towel from his arms to see a bright crimson stain on the pristine white. The poor kid even calmly explained what had happened to Mrs. Shea when she’d arrived to pick them up from the curb.

It was only when they’d gotten home and into Virgil’s room that he broke down in tears. But that didn’t mean he was weak. Tears weren’t weak. Tears meant that Virgil was healthily coping with his problems. That made Patton even more proud; Virgil’s health was his top priority right now, and any progress on it was fantastic.

“Hey, Vi. Do you want to talk about it? We don’t have to, but it might help,” Patton whispered as he softly hugged Virgil.

“Well,” Virgil croaked, taking a few moments to regain his composure. “Obviously, my dad’s never been around. He was rarely at holidays or special occasions; I can count on one hand the amount of times he celebrated his wedding anniversary. He’s stuck up, and he holds ridiculously high expectations for me. I’ve never been able to meet them. To him, I’m a burden. I’m the epitome of everything he hates: punk-rock attitude, artistic, creative, ‘rebellious,’ and all that fun stuff. I will never please him.”

Patton gave Virgil a little squeeze. “I know this sounds like a bad response, but I still want you to know this: I will always be proud of you. No matter if you fall down. No matter if you mess up. You are the strongest kid I’ve ever met, Virgil. I love you.”

He could feel Virgil shift in his arms so he’d be able to look Patton in the face. Tear tracks ran down his cheeks, and his eyes were red and puffy. To be honest, Virgil looked like a hot mess, but that didn’t matter to either of them.

“I love you too, Pat. You’re my best friend.”

Virgil leaned back into Patton, hugging him tighter.

“You’re my best friend, too.”

---

Somehow, news of Patton’s bad-assery had spread around the school by Tuesday morning.

“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?” Virgil hissed, pulling his hoodie closer around his body.

“No! Well, I told Logan and… Oh… Roman might have accidentally let it slip to one of his other more popular friends.” Patton scrunched up his face, taking note to scold Roman later. Virgil didn’t need all of this drama centered around him in his life, and obviously this was an extreme breach of privacy.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Virgil groaned and tapped Pat on the arm, pointing to a locker. Virgil’s locker. A group of kids were surrounding it, looking like they were about to launch themselves at the pair of friends.

“Don’t worry; I’ll deal with them,” Patton assured as he confidently walked to the group. “Hey, guys! Would you mind-”

“Oh my god. Patton! Did you actually punch Virgil’s dad?” The kid at the front looked like he was standing in front of a super hero.

“What? No!” Virgil had shrunk back at the sudden explosion of voices, but he still came to Patton’s rescue.

“Why did you protect him, Patton?” a cheerleader asked, playfully flipping her ponytail. “He’s a nobody. Oh, or are you two dating?”

Pat recoiled at the invasive questions.

“Oh! I’ve always wanted a gay friend!” a different cheerleader cut in. Both Virgil and Patton were becoming more uncomfortable by the second. A chorus of voices blanketed them in nonstop stimuli.

“Enough! For fuck’s sake, enough!” Virgil yelled, having reached his limit. Everyone in the hallway froze, staring at the normally quiet loner. He ran a hand through his hair regain some minuscule amount of composure before speaking again.

“To answer your question, no. Patton and I aren’t dating. And even if we were, it would be exactly none of your business. I can’t personally speak for Pat, but as an actual queer guy, your kind--yeah, I’m talking about all of you cishet assholes--are not the type people that anyone from the LGBTQ+ community would want to talk to. Ever. We aren’t trivial objects, and we certainly don’t want to be fetishized by cishets. Now get the fuck away from my locker.” Virgil’s voice was oddly calm and smooth, the only true indication that he was angry being the icy cold tone he spoke in.

Oh, was Patton proud of his best friend.

---

For the rest of the day, Patton was bombarded with questions from his classmates. There were even a few teachers that approached him! The whole situation was absolute chaos; the truth had wildly spun out of control, lost in the rumors. Not to mention the fact that Virgil’s whole coming-out-to-the-whole-school stint was beginning to circulate as well. Virgil had texted Patton multiple times every block to vent about “the sheer amount of fucking times these idiots have asked if I am, in fact, queer and if I have a crush on you.”

During lunch, too, hordes of students would come to their table and ask them invasive questions. Some had even been locating Logan and Roman during class to ask them to spill the details. Which, thank god, they didn’t. Roman had well learned his lesson to not--even by accident--tell other people about what was happening in Virgil’s life.

When the boys got home, they flopped onto Patton’s bed and reflected on what the actual fuck had happened at school.

“Did anyone make fun of you?” Patton asked. Their school wasn’t the most tolerant of LGBTQ+ people, despite its large population of them. In fact, it wasn’t really tolerant in the slightest. That was one of the reason Patton was still closeted himself, as were Roman and Logan. And, even though he was so close to Virgil, he hadn’t gathered the courage to tell his friend.

Virgil paused for just a beat too long before whispering a weak “no…”

“Who was it? I’ll fight them!” Patton had his Dad Voice on.

“Pat, don’t worry about it. I can handle some stupid jocks and their homophobic bullshit.” The lie fell completely flat.

“What did they do?” The tone in Patton’s voice was almost scary. Virgil hesitated for a second before he lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal a large bruise blossoming on his chest and stomach.

All the color drained from Pat’s face. “Who. Did. This?”

“I-I can’t tell you. I can’t let you get hurt, too,” Virgil whispered. Patton’s heart shattered at the notion that his friend, who he’d barely known for two weeks, was willing to sacrifice himself to keep Pat safe. It just made Patton want to protect Virgil even more.

As soon as Virgil left the room, Patton called Logan and Roman to formulate their plan.

---

Somehow, they were able to hide the rainbow clothing and accessories from Virgil for the whole right to school. The night prior, Logan, Roman, and Patton had gathered up all of their gear from last year’s pride and agreed to wear as much of it as possible. Logan had rainbow tape around the stems of his glasses (hidden carefully under a beanie for the time being) and at least four rubber bracelets that had “I’m fucking gay” stamped onto them, Roman wore his glittery rainbow Converse and a “gay doesn’t just mean happy” shirt hidden under his jacket, and Patton had brought along a pride flag to wear as a cape.

As soon as they’d entered the school, the hiding went out the window. Lo’s beanie was pocketed, Roman removed his jacket and wrapped it around his waist, and Pat drew the flag around his shoulders. Then Patton turned to Virgil and held out a rainbow beanie.

“Since you were so brave and came out to everyone yesterday, we decided to join you. Meet the ‘Queer Quad!’” Students passing began to stare at the blatant queerness, but for once, Virgil didn’t care.

“Fuck yeah!” Virgil took the beanie and slipped it on before addressing the bystanders. “You know, it’s not very polite to stare. Now scram before one of us gays come to make you ‘one of us.’”

“I mean, this can’t be very surprising to you all,” Roman added with a smirk. “Most of us four are theatre geeks, and you know that drama is the club for the gays!”

The crowd immediately rushed away, most likely to begin gossiping about the newly outed group.

A thought came into Virgil’s mind. “Roman, aren’t you worried about what your teammates are going to say? I mean, they’re not even the slightest bit decent, and there is no doubt in my mind that they won’t take this as an opportunity to ream the shit out of you. The other gymnasts are fucking brutal.”

“Prince Darkling, I’ve been hiding myself and my previous boyfriends from the world for too long. And even if they did want to come after me, I’ve got you guys to back me up.”

Patton pulled them all into a group hug. “I’m proud of us. Now, let’s go live our free lives!”

Soon, the rumors had reached the whole school, but it didn’t even bother Virgil this time.

next

#sanders sides fic #moxiety #logince #m writes things #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders

[charminglatina]

Riverdale Couples & Ships as Romantic Tropes (Part I) ❤️

In this list, I’ll be listing the Riverdale ships and couples (both teen and adult) with the romantic tropes that best represent their relationship on the show. In case you’re wondering where I got the tropes from, I got them from TVTropes.org. This list of couples and their romantic tropes is not a rankings list like my previous other lists which were rankings based on percentages. Because there are so many couples, I have decided to split the lists in two parts. Have fun reading!

#25. Archundy (Archie Andrews & Geraldine Grundy; ROMANTIC TROPE: TEACHER/STUDENT ROMANCE)

Teacher/Student Romance

"I've got it bad, got it bad, got it bad, I'm Hot For Teacher."—Van Halen

It is a pretty good bet that just about any show that features adults and teens interacting in an academic environment will eventually explore a romantic relationship between a teacher and a student. The basis for this type of relationship — if it's actually a romance and not just a Sextra Credit arrangement — can either be the adoration and respect toward the teacher and mentor figure or the teacher's protective and caring instincts, or both. The illicit, forbidden, and most often scandalous nature of these relationships can be mined for angst, and generally doesn't cause real life issues because the actors themselves are generally all above the age of consent thanks to Dawson Casting. But even if the student is eighteen or in college, this sort of extracurricular activity would still be a massive breach of professional ethics in most of the world and in some jurisdictions is considered illegal, regardless of age, in some circumstances (some teachers have been charged for relationships with high school students, even if the relationship didn't begin until after the student turned 18 and the teacher her/himself was only a few years older). Even if it was not illegal, the scandal that would erupt from this socially unacceptable affair would be so devastating it would basically cost a teacher or professor his or her job forever. There are usually different levels of moral endorsement of the relationship, depending on the genders of the participants. Relationships between male teachers and male students are condemned the most harshly. When a male teacher and a female student are together it results in the teacher being viewed as a pervert and sometimes the student being slut shamed. When it's the other way around, a female teacher with a male or even a female student is taken far less seriously. An even more outrageous double standard is that emphasis is often placed on how attractive said female teacher is — the more attractive said teacher, the more acceptable the relationship is. That said, the trope in fiction probably will involve a Hot Teacher, if only for fanservice purposes. An author might attempt to make this relationship less squicky by having the student fulfill the Wise Beyond Their Years trope, by keeping things to Courtly Love only, or by making both participants older — a graduate or doctoral student falling in love with their professor is less likely to cause moral outrage than a high school student doing the same thing due to both participants being adults, though the professional ethics of the situation remain pretty much the same. The relationship may be initiated by a Fille Fatale. A subtrope of Unequal Pairing. Compare Mrs. Robinson. See Likes Older Men, Likes Older Women, and Stacy's Mom for young people lusting after older people in general, Precocious Crush for a more innocent variant, Age-Gap Romance for when there's a significant age difference between them, and Mentor Ship. There's a version specific to magic users called Merlin and Nimue, which takes its cue from the Arthurian Mythos where Merlin formed such a pair with several women. Teacher/Parent Romance occurs when a teacher falls for their student's parent. This group of tropes is among The Oldest Ones in the Book. Although generally frowned upon in Real Life today, it's had varying levels of acceptance throughout history. It was most famously acceptable in Ancient Greece, where it took the form of Lover and Beloved.

#24. Jasolly (Jason Blossom & Polly Cooper; ROMANTIC TROPE: KISSING COUSINS)

Kissing Cousins

"If you're tired of beating around the bush, why not shake the family tree? A hot cousin might fall out."—Stephen Colbert

Romantic/sexual relationships between cousins (meaning, generally, first cousins) are a phenomenon that has been more accepted in some cultures and eras than others. A great many cultures today accept it, including a majority of the industrialized world. Marrying one's extended relatives (which is technically known as clan endogamy) seems to have been common in human evolutionary history, since hominids usually lived in small nomadic bands with few available sexual partners. At the other end of the spectrum, much of the modern U.S.A. considers cousin marriage completely taboo, so Hilarity Ensues at the very mention of it. People from backwoods areas (especially the Appalachian Mountains) are often the preferred butt of many bad jokes as well as occasional bits of Self-Deprecation for the alleged prevalence of Kissing Cousins in their culture. Despite the taboo, cousin marriages are legal in about half the states in the U.S.A., though not as much in the backwoods areas and more in the modern industrialized states, the opposite of what one might expect from hearing all those jokes. Legal or not, these marriages are still not very common due to the lingering cultural taboo. All states permit marriages between second and third cousins, but even these are looked at funny. In the UK, first cousin marriage is unusual and would be regarded as rather odd, but not with the same severity as the US. Second cousin marriages and beyond would be seen as unremarkable. Expect some strong Values Dissonance between the media from the US and other countries, and between certain modern works and works from the nineteenth century and earlier, when the taboo was sometimes non-existent or even inverted. Full scholarly debate on why some cultures would forbid cousins, or even specific types of cousins, to marry, while others ignore or even encourage it, rages on, and lies beyond the scope of this wiki. According to both Oxford's and Merriam-Webster's Dictionaries, the original definition of kissing cousins was simply a relative known well enough to be given a kiss in greeting, although this meaning has long since fallen by the wayside. Check out Incest Is Relative for more closely related tropes. NOTE: This trope is for cases of actual relationships between cousins. Cousincestuous subtext goes in Incest Subtext.

#23. Joaqevin (Joaquin DeSantos & Kevin Keller; ROMANTIC TROPE: BURY YOUR GAYS)

Bury Your Gays

"[Television] has yet to recover from the [2015/16 and 16/17] seasons, which included the deaths of an overwhelming number of lesbian and bisexual women characters. These deaths were often in service of another straight, cisgender character's plotline, and sent a toxic message to audiences. This decades-long trend — referred to in popular culture as "Bury Your Gays" — has made countless headlines in the past year, educating both viewers and creators alike on just how ubiquitous this trope has been."— Opening statement to the 2017/18 GLAAD (Where We Are on TV Report)

The Bury Your Gays trope in media, including all its variants, is a homophobic cliché. It is the presentation of deaths of LGBT characters where these characters are nominally able to be viewed as more expendable than their heteronormative counterparts. In this way, the death is treated as exceptional in its circumstances. Thus, it can be fairly said that, in aggregate, queer characters are more likely to die than straight characters. Indeed, it may be because they seem to have less purpose compared to straight characters, or that the supposed natural conclusion of their story is an early death. Also known as Dead Lesbian Syndrome, though that name has largely fallen out of use post-2015 and the media riots about overuse of the trope. And, as this public outcry restated, the problem isn't merely that gay characters are killed off: the problem is the tendency that gay characters are killed off in a story full of mostly straight characters, or when the characters are killed off because they are gay. However, sometimes gay characters die in fiction because, well, sometimes people die. There are many Anyone Can Die stories: barring explicit differences in the treatments of the gay and straight deaths in these, it's not odd that the gay characters are dying. The occasional death of one in a Cast Full of Gay is unlikely to be notable, either. Can be seen as Truth in Television in some cases, as gay and lesbian people are at a substantially higher risk for suicide and assault — see the tropes Gayngst-Induced Suicide and Homophobic Hate Crime. The fact that AIDS hit the gay male community most prominently provided potent fresh fuel for this long running trope (which, like many things about the eighties, still has an effect on more recent works). There may also be a higher prevalence of this trope in Period Fiction because of its supposed realism since historically there was lots of homophobic persecution — though undoubtedly plenty of acceptance, too. The exact opposite is found in Preserve Your Gays, often a reaction to this.

#22. Kevoose (Moose Mason & Kevin Keller; ROMANTIC TROPE: GAY GUY SEEKS POPULAR JOCK)

Gay Guy Seeks Popular Jock

LGBT media and LGBT characters featured in media have grown in prominence the past few decades. As the visibility grew, a common romance trope was employed over and over again enough that it became cliché: A gay teenager (who is the Audience Surrogate) ranging from Camp Gay to Adorkable to Shrinking Violet falls in love with/actively pursues/crushes on/is paired up with a popular, muscular and (usually) closeted jock. So many gay stories use this trope for several reasons, best written by Brent Hartinger, author of Geography Club.

The Star-Crossed Lovers trope is Older Than Dirt and used for so many love stories already, so it stands that it can be used for a same-sex tale of romance and woe.

Rule of Drama: The geeky gay and jock not only come from different "classes" (so to speak) but also face different hurdles in a Coming-Out Story: The geeky gay always is less conventionally masculine, so he doesn't have much to lose by being honest and open. The jock character, by contrast is a Straight Gay, and by coming out may lose a lot more, especially dropping down the social ladder which can lead to tons of conflict and obstacles for the pair getting together.

Most of these writers are gay and this trope could be construed as a form of Wish Fulfillment: The shy, awkward boy landing a popular handsome athlete is a pretty common fantasy amongst gay men, so it stands that this convention would be pretty prominent.

While a common fantasy, this trope is also Truth in Television as this kind of pairing does indeed happen in Real Life. See also Sensitive Guy and Manly Man, Masculine–Feminine Gay Couple, and Star-Crossed Lovers. Frequently employs Gayngst and the Armored Closet Gay trope. See also Single Girl Seeks Most Popular Guy and All Guys Want Cheerleaders for the heterosexual versions of this trope.

#21. McKeller (Tom Keller & Sierra McCoy; ROMANTIC TROPE: MALIGNED MIXED MARRIAGE)

Maligned Mixed Marriage

"Who can feel sympathy for Desdemona? A woman who, born and educated to a splendid and lofty station in the community, betrays her race, her sex, her duty and her country, and makes a runaway match with a blackamoor."—John Quincy Adams

A common source of conflict for a set of married protagonists (or a couple of Star-Crossed Lovers) is for the couple to be of different races among very unaccepting folks. They will be pressured to break up/divorce by family and friends and community, ostracized, exiled or forced to flee, maimed, or murdered, etc. Their children will be likewise persecuted, perhaps more so than the parents, for complicating racial relations and being inherently 'untrustworthy' due to not being fully one race or the other. Even if the adults are fine, other Kids Are Cruel after all. Expect the child to eventually pop the question about whether there's something inherently and incurably wrong with them because of their genetic heritage. And of course, sometimes it's a mixed species marriage, or one between a muggle and a mage, complete with attendant prejudice. On the plus side the scifi/fantasy elements mean the kid is likely to be The Chosen One, a Half-Human Hybrid, a Dhampyr, or perhaps even a Hybrid Monster with really cool powers. That makes up for it, right? Some examples of interracial marriages that earn disapproval can be found in Mighty Whitey and Mellow Yellow, Black Gal on White Guy Drama, and Where Da White Women At?. For mixed species marriages, see also Vampire-Werewolf Love Triangle. In Real Life, mixed-race marriages can be everything from completely accepted to something you only do if you've got a death wish. Thankfully, in many places it's skewed towards the "completely accepted" end of the spectrum, and a great way for someone to reveal themselves as a severe jackass is to show bigotry towards mixed couples. Mixed-race marriages seem to be one of the last bastions of racism. Many opponents of interracial marriage claim to oppose all other forms of racism including genocide, different legal rights, and the physical segregation of races to prevent cultural contamination (and some claim to have friends of other races). However, they generally argue that that it's cruel to have mixed-race kids because they see race as the sole/most important element of collective identity. This makes the existence of people who blur the boundaries between races distressing for people of those races, who will see their identity as being under threat and in their illogical rage target the unfortunate mixed-race children in their midst. Of course, race is just one element of collective identity and while it can be very important to some people this is by no means a given. In general, mixed-race children tend to have about the same level of trouble that their parents have — less if they look like one race or the other instead of an obvious mixture, or live in a society that doesn't care about race. In stories that take place in communities where "race" isn't a defining factor in classifying humanity (like ''some'' of the 19th century USA, East Asia, or Russia), a "mixed marriage" could mean many other different things: mixed ethnicity ("ethnicity" here being vaguely synonymous with "nationality"), mixed religion, or mixed class. Due to Values Dissonance, many of these other "mixed" marriages tend to be Dead Horse Tropes in fiction (at least in the Anglosphere), though they do surface occasionally: consider My Big Fat Greek Wedding, which mines humor from the "scandal" of a ('white') Greek-American woman choosing a ('white') Anglo-American man as her husband... a thing no longer scandalous in the late 20th century, but most certainly was just a few decades previously. Truth in Television, of course, as there are still people who feel this way. Although anti-miscegenation attitudes are not only found in the classic cases of dominant, traditional, "purity"-seeking communities. Notably, some minorities also vocalize disdain for "disloyalty", stemming from the considerable culture-driven asymmetry in cross-race relationships — a subtle but persistent visual reminder of imposed inferiority — and frustrations in changing the narrative over discomforting perceptions of hyper-attractiveness or lack thereof. Then there are some who are simply pricks. But any of these justifications can end up invoking the trope. To be clear, this trope can cover any romantic relationship, not only matrimony. We just like alliteration here.

#20. Fredary (Fred Andrews & Mary Andrews; ROMANTIC TROPE: AMICABLE EXES)

Amicable Exes

"It's things like using force together, Shouting till you're hoarse together, Getting a divorce together, That make perfect relationships."—Company ( "The Little Things You Do Together")

So, people who break up must indefinitely hate each other, right? Wrong. Increasingly common in media are situations where a divorced couple still get along for the most part, and in many cases still care about each other even though they're no longer together. In many cases the divorce happened because of distance, circumstance or the simple fact that people change rather than infidelity, betrayal or other serious problems, and the fact that they got divorced is treated as a fact of life rather than due to a flaw in the people. Both parties also generally agree that it was for the best for both of them. It's also pretty common for couples who broke up because of Incompatible Orientation or who were each other's Last Het Romance to end up this way. If there are children from the marriage they are shared without much complaint, and the amicability of the parents can often be interpreted as being partly for their sake. As such, this tends to show up in children's cartoons, perhaps as an attempt to counter the stereotype of the children of divorced parents being largely unhappy. May involve a Visit by Divorced Dad that will usually go well, and for the most part any Divorce Assets Conflicts are avoided or settled reasonably. The increase in this trope can be attributed in the dramatic shift in divorce rates and public perception of those who have gone through with divorces in the last 50 years (i.e. between the 1950s and the start of the 21st century). While divorce used to be scandalous, it's now a fairly common occurrence, and this trope reflects the view that it's just a fact of life that doesn't have to permanently poison a relationship. Sometimes it even results in Divorce Is Temporary, though this is less common in more realistic works and those aimed at children due to being a Family-Unfriendly Aesop ("wish hard enough and your parents will get back together!"). Can apply to non divorced former couples as well, thus the name. If someone's current and former squeeze get along well with each other, it's The Missus and the Ex. Compare Working with the Ex and Sex with the Ex. No, this is not about friendly .exe files.

#19. Clinelope (Clifford Blossom & Penelope Blossom; ROMANTIC TROPE: ARRANGED MARRIAGE)

Arranged Marriage

"We who are of noble blood may not follow the wishes of our hearts."—Jane Olsen (The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari)

An Arranged Marriage is, quite simply, the idea that someone is going to choose your spouse for you. The way an Arranged Marriage is treated by the plot will be dependent on place and time. For most of human history, arranged marriages were the norm because "marriage" was less about the union of two souls and more about the union of two families. The rise of the "Marry for Love" ideal didn't really start in Western culture until the 16th century, and there are places on Earth where it still hasn't. Additionally, the "Marriage Before Romance" trope often went hand-in-hand with arranged marriages. While the priority is, again, the union of two families, that union is dependent on the stability and comfort of the two people getting married, so the two families would try their best to come up with a Perfectly Arranged Marriage. The couple's happiness just wasn't the main goal the way it is in Western marriages today. However, the one thing that is almost always present in an arranged marriage is tension. Most people don't really want to marry a total stranger (much less have sex with them), and if that total stranger turns out to be a complete rogue and a cad, it may be necessary for the heroes to spring into action and rescue the hapless member of their group who is being forced to walk down the aisle. (Of course, being Big Damn Heroes, they'll have to do so in the most overblown and dramatic way possible.) Sometimes, the person in the arranged marriage takes matters into their own hands and becomes a Runaway Fiancé. The "aggrieved" party may claim Breach of Promise of Marriage in response, as arranged marriages tend to be viewed as legally binding commitments by those who initiate it. Alternately, there's a Love Triangle. The character of the suitor is less likely to be important in those cases, but they generally won't look kindly on the outsider's interference. Conversely, an Arranged Marriage can be used to lock the hero and heroine together so that their disputes can not end with one of them washing their hands of the other. A common tactic is for the daughter of a wealthy but common family to be matched with the Impoverished Patrician, for his title: Nobility Marries Money. Occasionally, it's the other way around, with a titled daughter and a moneyed son. Families may even pledge infant children in marriage pacts that cannot be concluded until many years later. Both in fiction and in Real Life, royal children (sons as well as daughters) were used as pawns in the political game cementing alliances and peace treaties with their marriages. You might say it was their job to take part in such Altar Diplomacy. The Arranged Marriage is not to be confused with: a Childhood Marriage Promise (whereby a prepubescent couple voluntarily pledges their own non-legally-binding, future troth); a marriage which may arise out of convenience; or a marriage that arises from some kind of cultural mistake. For clarity's sake, the Arranged Marriage trope will deal only with more binding, traditional types of unions. See also Parental Marriage Veto, You Have Waited Long Enough, Old Man Marrying a Child, Homosocial Heterosexuality, Royal Inbreeding, and Marriage Before Romance. A Shotgun Wedding is a short-notice forced marriage. If someone agrees to an Arranged Marriage but loves someone else, Courtly Love may be involved. If the people doing the "arranging" in the marriage aren't the parents, that's a Bureaucratically Arranged Marriage. Often involves Prince Charmless and Rebellious Princess. At least recently, one of the potential spouses was as likely as not to try to defy this. When the audience really doesn't want this marriage, expect the Big Damn Heroes to show up right at the Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace line. To see the types of follies and foibles associated with modern dating services, see Dating Service Disaster. Supertrope to Perfectly Arranged Marriage. Subtrope of Marriage of Convenience. Contrast Marry for Love. Compare And Now You Must Marry Me. Compare and contrast Fourth Date Marriage, where the couple likewise barely knows each other but it was Love at First Sight.

#18. Halice (Hal Cooper & Alice Cooper; ROMANTIC TROPE: AWFUL WEDDED LIFE)

Awful Wedded Life

Take it from me Spaghetti Man, better dead than wed."— Richie Tozier, IT

The depiction of monogamous marriage as rather like a long, slow, exquisite torture by a sadistic god from whose malicious clutches escape is impossible. Husbands are child-like buffoons who watch too much football, leave the toilet seat up, ogle hot women, and forget anniversaries. Wives are frigid, nagging, hateful shrews with zero interest in sex. Children destroy your home and what little peace of mind you have left, while waiting their turn to perpetuate the cycle. Obnoxious In-Laws serve to add to the misery. The audience may be left wondering, "Why don't they just get a divorce, if they're so miserable?" Married... with Children was probably the first time this trope was the main focus of an American sitcom, but it's been a mainstay of British shows since The '50s. It is also a staple of Borscht Belthumour, but that may be less to do with venom than with Jews Love to Argue or Jewish Complaining. The name, for those who don't get it, is a reference to the line of the traditional wedding vows, "Lawful wedded wife". Similar to No Accounting for Taste, but you'll rarely (if ever) see the Aww, Look! They Really Do Love Each Other moments occasionally found in that trope. Compare The Masochism Tango, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Like an Old Married Couple, Dead Sparks, and Married Too Young. Contrast Happily Married for the opposite and Happy Marriage Charade for when this trope pretends to be Happily Married. Unfortunately, Truth in Television for many people until quite recently, in eras with some combination of marriages being arranged for family advantage (or some other type of Marriage of Convenience) rather than created by mutual attraction, divorce being impossible or hugely disapproved of, or unintentional pregnancy leading to a choice of marriage or social ostracism.

#17. Fralice (Fred Andrews & Alice Cooper; ROMANTIC TROPE: AW, LOOK! THEY REALLY DO LOVE EACH OTHER)

Aw, Look! They Really Do Love Each Other

When a couple/potential couple — who spend the entirety of the show yelling at each other, insulting one another, stabbing each other in the back, etc. — have a moment when they reveal that, deep down, they really care for one another. Awwww. Often takes place in a humorous rushing-to-your-spouse's-defense manner, where one of them angrily defends the other against the same kind of insults that they themselves like to dish out. The common line is: "Nobody insults/beats up/threatens my wife, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend but me!" If this relation is between friends then they are Vitriolic Best Buds. If it is between siblings, then it either combines Big Brother Bully and Big Brother Instinct or is Thicker Than Water. If the romance part comes without warning or justification, the trope may fall flat, since it comes out of nowhere when the previous context of the story makes it seem like they have nothing to love about each other. When couples don't even have these moments you get No Accounting for Taste. See also Defrosting Ice Queen, Slap-Slap-Kiss and Belligerent Sexual Tension. A couple version of a Pet the Dog moment.

#16. Halelope (Hal Cooper & Penelope Blossom; ROMANTIC TROPE: YOUR CHEATING HEART)

Your Cheating Heart

"Your cheatin' heart will make you weep, You'll cry and cry and try to sleep. But sleep won't come the whole night through, Your cheatin' heart will tell on you."—Hank Williams ( "Your Cheatin' Heart”)

Two-timing, playing away from home, having a bit on the side, going behind your partner's back, adultery, infidelity... There are a lot of names for cheating on your partner, but most of them have the same outcome: a world of hurt. Most of us recognize this type of plot: Bob is married to Alice. One day, Bob sees Carol at a club and is attracted to her. Perhaps things haven't been going so well with Alice for some time. Maybe they just had a major fight and Bob stormed off. Or maybe his marriage is perfectly healthy, and Bob has no excuse. Whatever the reason, Bob flirts with Carol, which eventually leads to a sexual or romantic relationship and the various things that entails. But here's the thing: Bob doesn't tell Alice about it. He doesn't dump her, he doesn't tell her that he thinks the marriage is on the rocks, he doesn't talk to her about Polyamory or swinging, he doesn't even ask for "more space". He continues to play the part of her husband, and expects her to continue being his wife, hoping that Alice won't notice when he starts coming in late for dinner, or ask him about the mysterious expenditures on their joint account. Sometimes, just to really play Alice for a sucker, their marriage will seemingly improve— he buys Alice gifts, pays attention to her and seems much happier, but all the while he's running off to see Carol. For extra scumbag points, he may be keeping Carol similarly in the dark about Alice. Chances are he'll eventually get caught; if he didn't, the story wouldn't have the same dramatic impact. A lot of angst and tension will ensue. Way back in the day, when marriage was considered permanent and divorce was a word whispered fearfully by gossiping old ladies, The Affair was a shocker of a storyline, and very often an automatic Moral Event Horizon for the cheating partner. However, it's worth noting that even further back in the day, the gods, goddesses and minor side characters of mythology listed "infidelity" under "Hobbies", didn't particularly care if their new "partner" was willing, and got away with it. Only their mortal lovers got the nasty side of the wronged wife's/husband's temper when the affair was discovered. Nowadays, affairs are common in any Soap Opera and turn up an awful lot in other types of story as well. We don't really expect a fictional husband and wife to stay faithful to each other for forty or so years. Supposedly, a solid marriage makes a boring story (though some would disagree). Often, a sequence of "get together → one cheats → they break up → they make up → the other one cheats", and so on) will be followed so often and so tiresomely that it becomes a Yoyo Plot Point. What defines cheating usually depends on the context of the story and the characters involved. Stories aimed at younger audiences, or with a clear emphasis on romantic, monogamous relationships, will probably count kissing and flirting as cheating. Most examples of cheating in shows aimed at adults, however, will involve sex. Occasionally, characters may clash specifically because they have different definitions of cheating: for example, the husband who protests that he was drunk and it was "just a kiss" to his furious wife, or a girlfriend who can't understand why her boyfriend doesn't like her flirting with her male friends. A few rules usually hold true in fiction: If a woman cheats, her paramour just scored a massive victory over her cuckolded husband, who is now permanently dishonored. The (male) big boss of any given workplace is likely to be two-timing his wife. The Protagonist remains sympathetic if they cheat, and becomes an innocent, wronged victim if they are the one being cheated on. Bisexuals are portrayed as incapable of faithfulness or have merely informed sexuality, and men are more prone to having affairs than women (and often portrayed as The Unfair Sex too when it comes to cheating). Unfortunately, adultery is Truth in Television, as many broken hearts and broken families will testify. It is also one of the most common reasons that people murder each other.

#15. Fladys (FP Jones & Gladys Jones; ROMANTIC TROPE: OUTLAW COUPLE)

Outlaw Couple 

Two lovers who team up to commit crime, usually violent crime and especially robbery, and are usually on the run from the law. Such couples are almost always inspired by Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, "Bonnie & Clyde." Which one is the brains of the outfit tends to vary from couple to couple. Sometimes one is a calm and collected criminal who charms the other into a life of crime. Other times, one is a loose cannon while the other is a cool-headed professional. Many Bonnie and Clyde stories end in tragedy, as did the original couple. This one is Truth in Television, though it should be noted that most fiction tends to romanticize the life of crime that such characters tend to lead. Compare/contrast Minion Shipping. See Unholy Matrimony for a more over-the-top, super powered version of this team-up. Expect some Back-to-Back Badasses moments, as well as a selfish suicide if one partner dies. May result in sympathetic villains or even Sympathetic Murderers, especially if their affection for each other is given the spotlight.

#14. Hiramione (Hiram Lodge & Hermione Lodge; ROMANTIC TROPE: UNHOLY MATRIMONY)

Unholy Matrimony

Poison Ivy: Once you have frozen mankind, these babies will overrun the globe, and we shall rule them, for we will be the only two people left in the world. Mr. Freeze: Adam and Evil.—Batman & Robin

You know how the story goes, right? Big Bad meets Baroness, Baroness meets Big Bad, their eyes meet, and horribly discordant music that sounds not unlike the screaming of tortured souls arise. It's black magic... a match made in hell! Lord Worldbreaker and Lady Firestorm are, individually, serious threats to the heroes, but what happens if they're suddenly working intimately together? That's when it gets really dangerous. A pair of villains capable of channeling The Power of Love is enough to give even the most hardened group of heroes a serious challenge, and worse yet, seeing the villains in love may make them doubt their own motivations. Should one of the villains fall, the other one grieving over their fallen lover is quite likely to initialize an Alas, Poor Villainscenario, and maybe even a My God, What Have I Done? Should another villain start messing with the happy couple, it's usually played as a Kick the Dog moment. ...of course, these people are villains, so you can never really be sure that one or both of them isn't just playing at being in love, in order to manipulate and use the other. If the love is genuine but unrequited, expect the one who genuinely loves to sacrifice their life to protect the other, only for the other to disdainfully ignore them as they lie dying, proclaiming that they're no longer useful. Usually, this signals a crossing of the Moral Event Horizon. If both were faking it, expect them to show their true colors at the same time. Hilarity Ensues—and it's never mentioned ever again. The most classic version of this trope occurs when two previously established antagonists suddenly take a new-found interest in each other, but it can also involve a newcomer falling for an established villain, or even a pair of villains who were, from the beginning, a "villainous couple". In the first-mentioned scenario, Enemy Mine may occur in order to match the united power of the couple — which can get particularly interesting if the "bedfellow" is another villain, who is driven by jealousy...May form a Big Bad Duumvirate. Compare Villainous Friendship, when the two are truly friends with each other, but not in a romantic way. Contrast Minion Shipping (which involves minions instead of actual villains) and Mad Love (which is one-sided). Outlaw Couple is the petty crime version of this. In the case of fiction with multiple villains where taking two out of the equation would still leave a bunch of bad guys, if it's genuine on both sides this can be used as a prelude to a Heel–Face Turn or at the very least a "Get out of Jail Free" Card. If the couple in question is heterosexual, expect the man to be the more important half of the couple, possibly making her more of a Dark Mistress. Subtrope of Even Evil Has Loved Ones. Not to be confused with Awful Wedded Life, which describes the marriage itself to be terrible, not the people involved.

#13. Formione (FP Jones & Hermione Lodge; ROMANTIC TROPE: WELL, EXCUSE ME, PRINCESS! & FOE ROMANCE SUBTEXT)

Well, Excuse Me, Princess! 

"Why must everything you say to me sound like a criticism?"— Robin Hood to Marian (BBC's Robin Hood)

Snarky loser hero meets snarky haughty heroine. They either fall in love, or they snark. Usually both. This is essentially a satire of the standard Magical Girlfriend, which describes a beautiful, classy, good-mannered, loyal girl—the logical result being she should be somewhat critical of her loser boyfriend. She makes no attempt to ignore the fact that he is the Loser Protagonist, and frequently calls him on it, criticizes him, and rarely if ever fawns over him like some Fangirl. She expects better from him and pushes him to improve, while still expecting to be taken care of. However, the guy usually takes it in stride, mocks her in return, or just says the trope title. Expect a generous helping of Aww, Look! They Really Do Love Each Other moments, to let the audience know why they should be supporting this couple. The idea is that the snarky loser will help the princess loosen up and be friendlier, while the princess constantly holding the loser to a higher standard will eventually make him improve himself. Often appears in Love Comedies, depending on how satirical the story is. See also Tsundere. Related to Belligerent Sexual Tension. Compare/Contrast Screw You, Elves! and Surrounded by Idiots. If it involves an actual Princess Princess, see Royal Brat. The Woman Wearing the Queenly Mask can make similar demands.

Foe Romance Subtext

"Thou hast beat me out Twelve several times, and I have nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; We have been down together in my sleep, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, And waked half dead with nothing."— Aufidius to his blood enemy, Act 4, Scene 5, Coriolanus

The implications of sexual tension between arch-enemies. Just as Ho Yay is about the situation of implying romance where even the characters' canonical sexual orientations make it implausible, this trope intentionally creates an even deeper paradox by subtextually implying love in a relationship that is, textually, the opposite of love. This trope is much more likely to come into play if one is The Rival and The Only One Allowed to Defeat You, or a Rival Turned Evil, and is especially likely if one is an Evil Former Friend. If enemies have to work together, it can give the impression that adversity makes strange bedfellows. Other times, this trope can be invoked by a villain who seems to be too eager and persistent about trying to convince or force the hero to rule the world together, and eventually appear as a one-sided Villainous Crush. Terms of Endangerment often feature, and watch out for the "Take That!" Kiss. Dark Magical Girls are often depicted as understanding their Magical Girl counterpart far more than anyone else, and after inevitable redemption at the very least become Heterosexual Life-Partners, if not more. Since most heroes and their villains tend to be the same gender, this results in most examples of Foe Yay overlapping with Ho Yay, but different gender foes qualify too. When it ultimately goes from subtext to text, and the two admit that they love each other, it is called Dating Catwoman. Contrast with Defecting for Love. For the villain who really is sexually obsessed with The Hero, see Stalker with a Crush, Mind Game Ship, In Love with Your Carnage, and Villainous Crush. See also Destructo-Nookie, when they actually do go the whole nine yards. See also Foe Yay Shipping, for the subjective audience reaction of insisting that after a certain number of such scenes, the two should become a couple (this appeal often lies in the forbidden nature of the relationship, a staple of the shipper diet). Please move non-objective examples to that page. Not to be confused with Faux Yay.

#12. Fredmione (Fred Andrews & Hermione Lodge; ROMANTIC TROPE: RICH SUITOR, POOR SUITOR)

Rich Suitor, Poor Suitor

"One of them is dark and poor One fair with lots of money I don't know which one to choose The flower or the honey"—Celtic Woman ("At the Ceili")

One of the most common complications in the classic Love Triangle scenario. Two men are vying for a women's affection. Who's the right one? It's hard to tell, but there's a good chance that one of them is considerably wealthier than the other, and he can provide security, glamour and the good life, while the other (who has a good chance of being an impoverished artist) can give none of the same. What are you gonna do? Most of the time, it's going to be "go with the poor one," and the story will carry an Aesop that true love is worth more than material wealth. This makes sense if the rich one is a total bore or outright jackass, or the woman is just not in love with him as she is with the broke one. When done poorly, the rich one often ends up as the Designated Villain. This trope overlaps considerably with Wrong Guy First and Disposable Fiancé, but keep in mind that the rich suitor is not necessarily wrong, first or particularly disposable. This trope is most often "two men and one women" because of a sense that woman needs someone to 'provide for her'. This sort of logic ties into Unable to Support a Wife and generates part of this trope's conflict. If the suitors are also a Betty and Veronica pair, the dynamic will typically be either "poor but nice suitor vs. rich but haughty suitor" or "poor but exciting suitor vs. rich but boring suitor", being obviously slanted toward the poor suitor in both cases. In fact, having the rich suitor win or even be a decent, likeable person is a rare variation of this trope.note Perhaps the trope name should have been "Poor Suitor Wins" instead? The odd exception can happen though, with the rich suitor being a nice, decent person and the poor suitor being a male Gold Digger. Compare Gold Digger, Meal Ticket, and Uptown Girl. It can involve Compete for the Maiden's Hand.

End of Part I. Please check out Part II! 

#varchie #jeronica #bughead #choni #falice #barchie #veggie #archosie #jarchie #beronica #cheronica #riverdale #gifs not mine

[sofreakinmanyfandoms]

November 14 - We’re Gonna Go Flirt with Superheroes

Some important notes:

1. Thank you to my amazing friend Dean for letting me use their delightful self as a character in this fic. You may all be jealous that I actually know this person.

2. Because Dean does not have the cleanest of language, this fic has significantly more swearing than anything else I've posted here. I still only put half as much language as normally spews from their mouth. Love you, babe.

3. I've never actually been to a hipster bar and it's been years since I've been to Portland. Please forgive me for any obvious errors.

4. I normally shy away from describing the reader too much, but honestly? I needed this. I needed to explore a bit what it's like being straight but looking gay, because while it's nothing compared to what the LGBT+ community goes through, it's something I get a lot of grief for from my conservative Christian extended family. I needed a fic where the main girl has short hair, okay? Okay.

Thanks for letting me vent myself in this fic.

Word count: 2416

Warnings: Language, mentions of cheating, if you’re homophobic you’ll hate this one so go suck an egg

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X short haired!hipster!Reader

“Ah, Portland,” Sam said with a sigh, looking around at the bar that was definitely owned by someone very hipster. “Remind me again why we’re here?”

“It was the closest city with the material Stark needs to fix the jet,” Steve reminded him. “He’ll have it ready by morning and we’ll be on our way back to the compound.”

“Friends,” Thor declared cheerily, throwing his arms around their shoulders, “despite our transport’s destruction, we have won a great victory this day! Let us celebrate, even if your Midgardian drinks are weaker than mother’s milk.”

Bucky followed behind them, feeling out of place as he took in the décor. The floor and ceiling were concrete, but the walls had been coated in what looked like disassembled pallets with wooden booths build out of the walls. The free-standing tables were giant spools and he was pretty sure no two chairs in the whole building matched. Whoever had been in charge of decorating had even taken the chalkboard menu trope to the extreme, making the whole wall behind the bar a blackboard instead of just hanging one up. Everything was decked out in old – sorry, “recycled” – netting and buoys, presumably ones that had seen actual use based on their condition. Also, Bucky had never seen so much flannel in his life.

He settled into a booth with Sam as Steve and Thor went to get their drinks. The other man was looking around, a determined expression on his face.

“Here’s where we get to the hard part,” Sam whispered to him. “Now we’ve gotta figure out which women are gay and which are just fashionable.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. “I don’t understand.”

Sam leaned back and nodded to the bar. “Well, normally you see a woman in skinny jeans, a plaid flannel, and a beanie? She’s a lesbian. But we’re in Portland, where that’s everyone’s style, so it gets harder. Like the chick on the end of the bar? Pixie cut, slouchy beanie, band tee that’s probably for some local group her friend is in under her open flannel, black jeans that look painted on, and totally ignoring the prime male specimens currently ordering our drinks in favor of her cell phone? Definitely gay. But that chick over there,” he subtly pointed to a nearly identically-dressed girl, shorter and with longer hair, who had definitely noticed Steve and Thor’s presence, “is either straight or bi. I can work with either of those.”

Snorting at his friend’s explanation, Bucky flashed a quick look back at the woman at the end of the bar. Sam was probably right. Too bad; she was beautiful, and he wouldn’t have minded getting to know her better.

----------

You sighed at your phone and shifted on your seat at the end of the bar. Your friend was late again; they were always late. According to the text chain you were receiving nearly non-stop, they were also probably already drunk, not that that was surprising anymore.

“Come on, Dean,” you muttered under your breath. “I need you here before he shows up.”

Five minutes later, your friend stumbled through the door, giggling madly at, well, you didn’t want to know what. They stumbled their way over to you and collapsed onto a stool.

“Why are we here?” Dean immediately began complaining. “I stick out like a sore thumb. I’m more goth than hipster, you know that.”

“We’re here because I nanny for the owner part-time so the drinks are free,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes. “You know fully well that any place becomes your scene when you don’t have to pay for alcohol.”

“True,” Dean replied with another giggle. “I didn’t have to pay at the last place either, because I’m fucking hot. Three guys and two girls bought me drinks.”

“Aaand, that’s it, you’re cut off for the night,” you sighed, asking the bartender for a coffee for your definitely drunk friend. “You did kill your makeup tonight, though. It looks great.”

“Damn right it does,” they slurred. “Hey, how come you didn’t tell me? I’d have gotten here a hell of a lot sooner if you’d told me there were Avengers in the building.”

You followed your friend’s line of sight to where there were in fact four members of the Avengers seated in a booth.

“Oh… I didn’t notice them.”

Dean scoffed and gave you that knowing look that you really hated. “You got lost in your phone again, didn’t you? Just in case he showed up.” The blush on your face was enough of an answer. “Damn it, woman, he’s a fucking asshole who never deserved you and I’d have killed him already if you weren’t so fucking concerned with whether or not things are legal.” They downed the rest of their coffee with a grimace and pushed themselves off the bar, grabbing for your hand. “Come on. We’re gonna go flirt with superheroes.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. I am not going to talk to the Avengers with you while you’re drunk.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as they looked at you. “Then you have to promise me you’ll sing karaoke tonight. You haven’t done it since that bastard criticized your voice, and I miss hearing it. You’re fucking good, and you let that fucking moron rob us all of your beautiful songbird-ness.”

“I hope you realize how drunk you sound.”

“Do we have a deal or not? Because if I’m going to give up a shot at fucking Thor, it had better be for a good reason.”

You sighed. Your friend was always stubborn like this. “Fine, we have a deal.”

“Awesome! I get to pick your song.”

“Aw, hell, no…”

----------

Your ex showed up right before karaoke started as he always did.

“Look at the smug asshole,” Dean muttered into the drink they’d somehow managed to get despite your best efforts. They put on a comically feminine voice and mimicked, “I must sing every chance I get, for my voice is God’s gift to mankind and to deprive people of the joy of listening to it would be blasphemy of the highest fucking order!”

“Dean,” you sighed, “please behave. You’ve already gotten me to agree to singing again. You don’t need to start a scene with him, too.”

“I should cut off his fucking dick for cheating on you.”

Because you knew Dean, you were concerned they meant it. “Don’t. He did me a favor, helping me realize he wasn’t worth it. Now, did you sign me up for karaoke already, or do I need to do it?”

The grin they flashed you was even more concerning when paired with how much they’d had to drink. “I signed us both up. After you sing your mystery song – yes, you’ll have enough of an intro to figure out what it is and come in on time, they put the lyrics up anyway, you’ll be fine – I’ll blow your performance out of the water with a spectacular rendition of ‘Bang, Bang.’ Your ex won’t know what hit him.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” you said dryly, only to be horrified when your name was called first as karaoke started.

Dean laughed at the glare you threw them. “Go blow them all away with your magical voice, darling!”

“Y/N,” the bar’s owner said into his mic when you stepped up on stage. “It’s been far too long, m’lady! Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in a few months, it’s the lovely Y/N singing ‘Shake It Off’!”

“Really, Dean?” you asked, picking up your mic. “All the songs in the world to choose from and that’s the one you picked for me?” The regulars laughed at your teasing as Dean raised their beer in salute. Almost before you had a moment to collect yourself, the music was off and you could feel your ex studying you from his seat near the back with his new woman draped across him. You shut him out of your mind and focus and launched yourself into the song, determined to have fun even if you weren’t really drunk enough to do a Taylor Swift song for karaoke.

----------

Bucky hadn’t been paying attention to much other than his beer until the karaoke started. Their booth was set up at the perfect spot for watching the stage, and he chided himself for the way his heart jumped when you stepped on stage.

“Really, Dean?” you joked, shooting a look at your friend who did not look like – he? She? Bucky couldn’t tell which – would be interested in hanging out in a bar like this. Then you took a deep breath and wow, your whole demeanor changed as you started singing. It was like the song took over you and you had an entirely different energy about you.

“I go on too many dates, but I can’t make ‘em stay,” you sang, and Bucky watched you work the stage, using the mic stand to your theatrical advantage even as you held the mic in your hand. He’d say you were hamming it up for the crowd, but there was something about your performance that said maybe some of the words were hitting a little too close to home for you to be too flippant with them.

“My ex man brought his new girlfriend,” and he didn’t miss the way your eyes flickered to a couple in the back. “And to the fella over there with the hella good hair, why don’t you come on over baby? We can shake, shake, shake.”

He almost choked on his beer, because he could swear that during that last line you had looked over and winked at him in a very “I’m not a lesbian and I want to climb you like a tree” type way. Bucky’s eyes quickly flickered to Sam to see if the other man caught it, but if he had, he wasn’t giving any indication of it.

It had to have been the performance, right? You were just working the audience. When the song ended, he made sure to applaud, and soon your friend (Dean, the announcer called them) was on stage singing like they were, well, as hammered as they looked.

----------

“Come ooooonnnn,” Dean whined, tugging on your sleeve. “Y/N, they’re in town and they’re in this bar and Thor’s so hot I’m surprised I don’t have a sunburn yet. I can’t talk to them alone. Come flirt with me.”

Your friend wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, so you slammed back the rest of your drink and stood.

“Fine,” you said, “but if you look like you’re going to puke on an Avenger at any point I’m dragging you home.”

“Yay!” they cheered, immediately pulling you over to their table and sliding into the booth next to Thor. “Hello, gentlemen of the Avengers. My name is Dean, I’m genderfluid and pansexual and would gladly climb any of you. This is Y/N and she’s a straight prude but if you give her enough alcohol you might be able to get a nice make-out session with her.”

You groaned and rubbed your face with your hand. “Sorry for my friend here. They passed merely being drunk an hour before karaoke started.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Captain America (YOU WERE TALKING TO CAPTAIN AMERICA?!?) said. “I’m Steve, and this is Bucky, Sam, and Thor.”

“Hi, Thor.” Dean batted their eyelashes and you choked back a snerk.

Bucky pushed at Sam and the two slid a little further back in the booth, making space for you to sit next to the soldier. He motioned to the seat and you slid next to him hesitantly.

“Sorry for interrupting your evening,” you apologized quietly, although Dean had long since tuned you out in favor of attempting to seduce the god of thunder. “Dean gets an idea their head and I’m basically stuck along for the ride.”

“It’s no problem,” Sam said smoothly. “I do have one question, though. Are you really straight?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Bucky thought that might be the nicest sound he’d ever heard. “Yes, I’m really straight. Most people are surprised, but my sense of style wasn’t enough to keep jerks from hitting on me so I got a haircut and fell in love with the style. It’s let me fly under the radar a lot more frequently, which is nice.”

“I can’t imagine how,” Bucky said, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “You’re beautiful.”

Before you could thank him, a voice to your left made you freeze.

“Y/N.”

Dean’s attention was snapped away from Thor and they stared down your ex. “Listen, asshole –”

“Dean.” You held up a finger to stop your friend before they made too much of a scene before entirely turning to your ex. “What do you want, Daniel?”

“It’s free karaoke time,” he crooned, ignoring how unwanted he obviously was. “I thought maybe we could do a duet together, for old time’s sake?”

You affixed him with a glare that would whither a plant. “Why on earth would I want to be reminded of our time together?”

That seemed to shake his confidence a bit. “I’m just being friendly,” he snapped.

“You don’t know how to just be friendly. We’re over, Daniel, so get over it already. If you really wanted me, you wouldn’t have cheated.”

“I believe you heard the lady,” Thor cut in before Daniel could reply. “She wishes for you to leave her alone, and I suggest you abide by her wishes.

For the first time he seemed to notice who you were sitting with, and he sulked off back to his date.

“Well,” Sam broke the silence that had fallen over the table, “I’m guessing that relationship being over is a good thing?”

You nodded. “Thank you,” you told Thor. “I appreciate the support.”

“Anytime, m’lady.”

----------

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky asked you softly a few minutes later when you had yet to join the table’s renewed conversation.

You shook your head. “He was a jerk who cheated on me so I got out. It was a long time ago.”

“How could anyone throw away someone like you?”

The earnest way he said it made you blush.

“His loss,” you whispered shyly.

Bucky only paused a moment before asking, “Could I make his loss my gain?”

“I’d like that,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that very much.”

#30 days of avengers one shots #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #reader #reader insert #portland #portland oregon #hipster #bar #karaoke #taylor swift #language #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #masterlist #i still suck at tagging

[bluerose5]

In the Aftermath

("In a Past Life" excerpt. Will be on ao3 later. Warnings mainly because the androids' legal status/lack of rights is mentioned briefly, so references to racist/homophobic themes is the best way I can describe it.)

"Hey!"

The exuberant voice comes out of nowhere, loud and proud and demanding to be heard.

It's enough to attract a considerable amount of attention at least, so much so that almost all androids in the immediate vicinity turn to see what's going on. Some of them tense up, their eyes darting around, searching for the next line of fire. Others simply stare, cold and distant, their eyes promising a fight, should they be attacked again.

Hours have passed since the call for an evacuation, yet that feeling of dread —that stubborn, suffocating feeling of "what next"— still lingers in the air.

No one has faith that the humans will keep their promise, and what once was the site of their final demonstration is now an area of refuge.

For the time being.

Trying his best to peel away the layers of tension that still cling to him, Markus stands from where he was tending to the wounded, shrouding himself in a confidence that is only superficial at best.

As long as no one can see the truth, then he'll be fine.

He meets the young android halfway there, and the boy's eyes light up when they land on him.

Nodding to himself, he sprints over to Markus with a crumpled up piece of paper in his hand. Once he skids to a stop in front of the RK200, he puffs up in pride, trying to appear taller in the presence of their leader.

Markus' lip quirks up ever so slightly, but the surrounding fog of death and loss only serves to mute whatever joy or amusement that he might have felt.

Not to mention how, even now, he can sense those beautiful eyes on him, watching his every movement, burning a hole through his skin.

So much to discuss, so little time.

The kid calls his attention back by noisily clearing his throat.

Markus musters up enough strength to give him a smirk. "Got something for me?"

The boy bobs his head, practically shoving the paper at Markus in his excitement.

"This guy told me to make sure that you got it. He said it was super important!" he rambles, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet. "Said that I would be helping out, and they said that I was too young to march with you guys earlier so I-I wanted to do something!"

Curiously, Markus tests the weight of the folded scrap of paper in his hand, hearing something jingle within. A quick scan confirms that nothing particularly dangerous is hidden there, so a deep furrow finds it way onto his brow.

What the hell?

"You did a good job, kid," Markus tells him, forcing his smile back into place. "Any chance you know who sent this?"

The boy shrugs. "No clue. He was human, though, out next to where the reporters were earlier." He points to where he found him. "Didn't want to stick around, but he seemed —I don't know— pleased, maybe."

"Huh..." Markus taps the paper against the palm of his hand, thinking over who it could have possibly been. Of course, he doesn't really need to take long before it occurs to him exactly who it was. "Thanks anyways. How about you go find North, and I'm sure she'll find some other ways for you to help."

"Of course!" the boy shouts, already taking off on his new mission.

Markus looks around, waiting until all eyes focus on their former duties before he unfolds the paper.

Out falls two rings and a lone key. And on the page, there lies Kamski's familiar, sloppy handwriting, scribbled in black ink.

You lived up to your promise, Mr. Williams. Figured that I should return these to you and your husband at my earliest convenience. If you have any questions (which I'm sure you do), then I'll be looking forward to meeting you again.

Best of luck,

E.K.

Markus snorts at that, shaking his head in disbelief. He pockets the note and the key to their old home, scrutinizing the white gold bands that rest within his palm.

Well, time to face the music.

Searching throughout the crowd, Markus looks up and around, sending out his feelers while he searches for Connor. Thankfully, it takes a little less than a second to find him, brown eyes already trained carefully on Markus.

Clenching his hand around the rings, Markus jerks his head in a way that clearly says "follow me," turning on his heel before Connor can even respond.

Soon enough, the sound of a crisp, steady gait falls into place at Markus' side, and Markus' heart throbs in response, wanting nothing more than for them to close the distance.

Hesitantly, Markus decides to test the waters between them, deliberately brushing his fingers against Connor's own.

He releases a trembling breath when Connor brushes back, ducking his face away from Markus' view. They wait until they are well enough away from the crowd before they finally stop, taking a few different paths until they are out of sight and out of mind.

No life of any kind is to be found, which gives them the exact privacy that they need.

Before Markus can speak, Connor beats him to it.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, staring dejectedly at the ground.

Markus waits for him to say more, swallowing thickly when he doesn't. "Yeah, you're not the only one." Markus rubs at the back of his neck, ashamed with how he acted before. "You didn't deserve how I treated you. I was stressed and pissed, and I'm sorry for taking that out on you."

"I'm just—" Connor huffs out a breath through his nose, frustrated with himself. "I'm just overwhelmed. To have all of these memories and these emotions rushing in at once. It's a lot to take in."

"Do you need time?" Markus asks. "You know, without me around?"

"Think I've had enough of that," Connor says, chuckling bleakly. "And I do want to, well, you know."

"I think I have an idea." Markus sidles closer to Connor, bringing his hand up between them. "But only if you're sure."

Markus spreads his fingers wide, exposing the glinting metal to the streetlights around them.

Connor's expression turns bitter, his shoulders curling in on himself protectively.

"You know that we don't even have a legal status of personhood anymore, right?" Connor asks. "I highly doubt that they will be recognizing two androids' claim to marriage anytime soon."

"Then we'll change that. Together," Markus promises, reaching out for Connor's hand. When Connor accepts the offer, Markus' thirium pump goes haywire, but he somehow gathers enough composure to slide the ring onto Connor's left hand, his grip shaky and uneven.

Connor isn't much better when he returns the favor, sliding the other band onto Markus' finger.

With a soft smile, Connor finally meets those mismatched eyes, leaning in.

"I'll hold you to that," Connor breathes, and that's all it takes for Markus to fall into old habits, drawn in by that undeniable force between them.

"We have a lot to talk about," Markus reminds him, but Connor only reaches up, dragging him forward by the fabric of his shirt. The material strains under his strength, and Markus chuckles. "Still as pushy as ever, I see."

The resulting grin that Markus receives sends warmth shooting through systems, and the outer skin on his left hand unexpectedly retreats, exposing the shiny, plastic surface that rests beneath.

A bright, blue light emanates from his sensors, and Connor blinks at the sight in bewilderment, only for his own hand to mimic the motion.

Neither of them quite knows what that means, but Connor makes the first move, aligning their hands so that they connect for the first time.

What Markus experiences is a complete immersion, a face-first dive into all of what makes Connor himself. Past and present, then and now, it doesn't matter. Markus sees it all, feels it all, human and android life alike, spread out for him to uncover. Like a flower blooming, exposing himself to Markus in a way that neither of them has ever done before.

Despite some of the limitations that accompany his new body, Markus has to admit that he never expected to feel so much fulfillment in one act.

It almost makes him pity the humans who will never get the chance to experience that sensation firsthand.

The sensation of being truly connected with the person you love, knowing them piece by piece, inside and out.

Connor interrupts Markus' thoughts by yanking him forward, sealing their lips with a heated kiss. It take a few seconds for Markus' mind to catch up with their actions, but Connor is nearly climbing him by the time that he responds.

When they pull away, panting more out of habit than necessity, Markus leans his forehead against Connor's, their breaths mingling in the space between them.

"We still need to talk," Connor sighs, wrapping his arms around Markus' neck, "but I want you to know that I'm willing to try and... pick up the pieces."

Markus smiles against his lips, pecking him once more.

"That's all I could ever ask for."

#detroit become human #rk1000 #rk1k #conkus #dbh markus #dbh connor #my fanfics #my writing

[missmeikakuna]

So, Apparently, I Find Fairies Hot Chapter 6

Rated: T

Fandom: Original Fiction

Relationship type: Male/Male

Description: You know those movies and TV shows in which an effeminate gay character has a crush on the popular jock? Strike that, reverse it.

Daniel is technically popular at school but fades into the crowd. After an injury at footy (Australian football) practice, he is forced to focus on improving his grades, starting with English. Luckily, the new kid in school knows a lot about Shakespeare and is willing to tutor him. Now if only this new guy wasn’t so attractive.

CONTENT WARNING: Homophobic slurs are used. Also, there are some sexual references but nothing too graphic.

Chapter 6: Is it gay to go to a concert with a guy?

Daniel’s head was light but his heartbeats carried the weight of a stampeding wildebeest’s footsteps. He hobbled out the door using his crutches, his newly-fixed leg still numb even though a few hours had passed since the operation.

His nostrils widened as fresh air graced them with its presence. Several people were sitting in their wheelchairs and smelling the small selection of daffodils, roses and some strange native flower that Daniel couldn’t recognise. He made sure to keep some distance from the flowers to avoid triggering hay fever symptoms but they smelled lovely from where he was. He limped slowly so as not to arouse suspicion, looking for an exit. He saw a carpark in the corner of his eye and grinned.

‘You there, where are you going?’

Shit. Daniel turned and saw a nurse. He took a deep breath to give himself time to think. ‘I want to have a smoke with my friend. He’s in the carpark.’

‘Aren’t you a little young to be smoking?’

‘I’m of age.’

‘Do you have any proof?’

What was this man’s problem? ‘I don’t know if you realise this, but I’m in the hospital. It’s not like I have my ID on me. Would you like me to limp home and get it for you?’

The nurse pursed his lips. ‘Very well. Have fun with your friend.’

Daniel resumed his journey, holding in a sigh until he was sure the nurse was gone. It took him half an hour to limp home. He had to ignore the strange looks and refuse the offers to help take him back to the hospital. He had to say he wasn’t crazy so many times he started to wonder if he really was crazy.

He patted himself on the back when he managed to get up the stairs to his room within five minutes. The numbness started to fade but he still limped as he made his way to his wardrobe. No way was he going to go to the date wearing the white t-shirt and tracksuit pants his mother brought to him before the operation. She was supposed to take him home but received a call from work.

He gulped. Wait, date? What the hell am I talking about?

He pulled out a leather jacket and put it on over a grey shirt. He chucked some jeans on and shook his leg in the hopes that he could get rid of the remaining insensateness.

He laid his crutches on his bed and walked back down the stairs, a tiny bit of numbness still there. His light head got to him and he had to clutch the rail until his dizziness subsided. However, he continued moving forward, even if it was in incremental steps.

He caught the train to the city, trying his damndest not to vomit as the train swayed back and forth harsh enough for Daniel to feel like soup being stirred in a pot. He kept looking at the time on his phone.

Suddenly the train stopped. It wasn’t at a station. It just stopped. The announcer’s whoops-I-spilled-some-beer-at-the-barbie voice made Daniel’s hand curl up into a painfully tense fist.

‘Unfortunately, the train ahead of us is delayed. Sit tight and we should be ready to continue in a few minutes.’

‘A few minutes’ passed. Then another few. ‘It looks like we’ll be here for another half hour,’ the announcer said. ‘It might be a good idea to call your workplace if you’re heading to work. Sit tight and we should be ready to resume shortly.’

Groans and cries of, ‘Bloody public transport’ poisoned the air.  Daniel finally realised how sweaty and humid the air was with everyone packed together like chickens in a cage farm. Loud, perpetually groaning chickens that swore every five minutes.

Daniel stared at his phone again and took a few deep breaths to stop himself from hyperventilating. 6:30. It was going to take at least half an hour to get to the city, not to mention the time needed to catch a tram from the station to the venue.

He opened up his text messages and went to message Eddie when… his phone died. ‘Shit,’ he whispered. There was no way he was going to pay a fine for swearing on public transport, even if everyone else was doing it.

Finally, the train resumed and got to the city like nothing had happened. Daniel started running to the tram stop but felt dizzy again, so he had to stand with his hands on his thighs for a little while. He inhaled and continued running.

He took the tram and resorted to looking at his watch. A quarter to 8. ‘Fuck.’ Another whisper.

He showed his ticket to the woman at the door of the arena. As the door opened the sound trampled him.

Or rather, sounds. The high-pitched guitar solo. The discordant and yet perfectly fitting piano. The microphone-amplified voices that alternated between rapping and growling about war. The hundreds of voices trying to mimic the rapping and growling. Daniel had heard this exact song before, and yet this live performance managed to shake him to his core. He was so invested in the music that it took him a while to remind himself to find Eddie.

He stood in the dark, trying to read the seat number on his ticket. After a minute or so his eyes got used to the dark. He made his way to his seat, but Eddie wasn’t there.

He looked around and saw a group of people cheering at the front of the balcony. One boy was dancing, his long ponytail bouncing as he banged his head and his pale skin glowing in the little bits of light coming from the stage. Daniel drank in the sight, crossing his arms to prevent himself from hugging him.

He tapped his shoulder. Eddie turned around and grinned. ‘About time!’ he yelled.

‘You have no idea what it took for me to get here!’

‘What?’

‘You have no idea-’

‘What?’

‘Nevermind!’

The song changed and Eddie squealed. He headbanged for a while before looking at Daniel, tapping the other boy’s head to get him to copy him. Daniel shook his head. Eddie pouted.

Daniel watched Eddie for most of the concert, though he sometimes looked around him to make sure no one was glaring at the boy. He expected someone to scowl at his effeminate friend, but no one did. Not many people seemed to notice him despite his large arm movements as he danced. One person joined in and danced next to him.

Half-way through the concert, the lead rapper grabbed a trombone from the brass band behind him and mock-played it while holding it near his crotch. Daniel suddenly took note of the tight leather pants and the toned abs of the shirtless lead rapper. He looked at Eddie again and wondered what got him into metal.

Daniel’s ears felt full as the chugging guitars, warlike sound effects and booming voices stuffed themselves into his mind. The occasional changes in rhythm were a little distracting, though he guessed that was the jazz influence. He remembered Eddie going on and on in the hospital about syncopated rhythms. 

When the concert ended, Eddie gulped as much water as his wallet allowed him to buy in the lobby. 

 ‘How was it?’

Daniel smiled. ‘It’s really a different experience, hearing it live.’

‘I know, right? Thank you so much for coming! That was amaz-’

‘Is that you, Ed?’ A masculine voice called out. Eddie froze.

Another voice was added. ‘Of course, it is! He’s got the same face.’

The first voice raised in volume. ‘His hair’s grown longer, so how was I supposed to know for sure?’ The voice then softened, turning almost into a satire of a mother’s voice. ‘Where’s your girlfriend? Did she break up with you?’

Three boys stood with their hands in their pockets. One, the owner of the first voice, wore baggy jeans and a plain black t-shirt. The owner of the second voice had a cap on his head and a piercing in one ear. The third boy was silent, wearing black jeans and a grey hoodie.

The second boy wore a shit-eating grin. ‘Who’s this?’

Eddie smiled, but Daniel could hear the deep intake of air as he breathed in. ‘This is Daniel. He’s my friend from my new school.’

The second boy looked Daniel up and down. ‘I’m glad to hear you’re making new… friends… Especially since you look… different from when you were at our school.’

The first boy stared at Eddie’s hair. ‘I guess you got even more into metal since we last saw each other. Your hair’s giving me Amy Lee vibes.’ 

‘Evanescence isn’t real metal!’ A stranger in the crowd shouted. 

The first boy coughed an ‘ahem’. ‘That is why you’re wearing that hair, right? Or are you trying to go for a Behemoth type of look?’

Eddie bit his lip. ‘Uh, it was great seeing you all, but Daniel and I have to get home.’

‘You’re going home together? Okay, don’t let us get in the way,’ the second boy said. ‘We should hang out again just the four of us.’

‘Y-yeah, that’ll be great. I’ll, uh, find you on Facebook.’

Eddie grabbed Daniel not by the hand, as Daniel expected for some reason, but by the arm. He dragged him outside. The otherwise cool air carried the warm winds that, for whatever reason, only appeared at night. Despite the warmth, Eddie shivered, turning his back to Daniel.

Daniel shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. ‘Did you guys have a fight before you moved or something?’

‘No, I just… I moved because of them.’ Daniel’s eyebrows leapt. ‘I wanted to get out of that school and start again. I wanted to be more… open with others. I never told those three that I’m gay. So when I saw them again just now, I felt chills run down my body. It was like I was shoved back in the closet again and thrown into a lake and expected to swim. Once you’re as out as I am, you kind of forget how to be in the closet again and it just… it brings you back down to reality, like ‘Oh yeah, I almost forgot how much life sucks’.’ Eddie turned towards Daniel and looked down at the ground. ‘I must sound incomprehensible to a... straight... guy.’

Daniel shrugged. ‘I just can’t imagine you being in the closet. Didn’t you say that you could never hide your true self or something like that?’

’When did I say that?’

Daniel felt his cheeks match the heat of the wind. ‘Some time ago. I don’t know.’

Eddie looked up at him, his eyes shiny with water and his lip bitten hard enough to chip bits of his black lipstick off.

‘Well, I can’t exactly be the perfect super gay all the time. I have to adapt to my surroundings. The hard bit is when you have a feeling someone suspects but you don’t know for sure so you’re always on edge. You’re half afraid of them finding out and half sick of pretending because they probably know anyway so there’s no point.’

Daniel felt those words sink deep into his soul. He forced on a smile.

‘Why don’t you come out to your friends? You came out to the entire year level.’

‘It’s a different scene. The metal scene’s different.’

‘Everyone seemed pretty welcoming.’

‘But I… I’ve heard horror stories about homophobia in the metal community. A lot of fans are all about masculinity and stuff. That’s kind of what drew me to the genre at first. But anyway, even if my friends know, we can’t really confront it. It’ll be too awkward and… like, what if they’re all like, ‘well, the charade’s over. We don’t need to humour you anymore’? I’m better off not knowing what they think.’

Daniel took a step towards Eddie. ‘Have any metal fans given you shit for being gay?’

Eddie’s eyes grew. ‘Not me, but-’

‘Then what’s the use in worrying? You’re kind of giving yourself trauma before a bad event even happens. Why don’t you just worry about all that when it comes?’

Eddie chuckled and ran his hand through his hair, causing a sharp inhale from Daniel. ‘I didn’t think of it that way. Thanks.’

Daniel‘s smile grew as he cocked his head to the side for a moment as if to tell him to follow him. Eddie drank in that smile and even felt something stir in his heart. He almost swore, but then he’d have to explain why he did that.

#bisexual #romance #gay #writing #LGBT #LGBT romance #yaoi #drama #original fiction #fiction #Breaking Stereotypes #So Apparently I Find Fairies Hot