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bonkhrnyjail · 5 months

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sweet plum | chapter three

masterlist | pinterest board

pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader (plus size)

rating: mature (will become explicit in future chapters)

warnings: depictions of anxiety, drinking, nicotine use

summary: it's the final day of filming, and you go out to celebrate with your fellow cast and crew members

a/n: thank you guys for the love on the first two chapters! i honestly wasn't anticipating much of a response on here so it's been a sweet surprise. i have imposter syndrome up the fucking wazoo and this is the first creative project i have ever stuck with for more than a few months, and i think it's partially because of the kind comments i've received from people (and also because i'm fucking horny and delusional for this old man). anyways, hope you enjoy chapter three. xoxo.

You and a few of the other makeup artists and hair stylists are standing a few hundred feet away, watching as Pedro and Bella repeatedly break character on top of a magnificent hill. The roar of laughter from the distance still manages to reach your ears, Pedro doubled over with hands bracing on his knees to keep from toppling over completely.

You know your period is coming, but the emotions you’ve been experiencing today are something else entirely. You awoke this morning and immediately started to tear up, knowing today was the last full day you’d spend with everyone, the crew who's become more like family to you than anything else. You’re just so proud of everyone. Filming this show was grueling, the labor not only physical but emotional too.

Fucking hell, you’re tearing up again just thinking about it.

“Awww, honey bun,” one of the girls pulled you into a side hug, squeezing into your hip with her resting hand. “I get it, I felt this way after my first long project too.”

You hate crying in front of people, but you’re so exhausted from holding it in since the morning, it all just pours out.

“I just love all of you guys so much, I don’t want it to end. It’s been such an honor to do this job and to become friends with all of you," you sniffle, frantically wiping at your eyes to clear the streams of tears from your puffy cheeks. "And Pedro, he’s been such a dream to work with. Such a genuine, kind guy, I just love working with him-”

“Baby, we know.” one of the few guys in your group teases and everyone erupts with laughter.

“Wha— Why are you guys laughing?" you whine. "Did I miss something?”

Are they onto you?

You think that you’ve done an incredible job hiding your colossal, debilitating crush on your extremely attractive, kind, witty, charming client. Of course you’ve experienced work crushes before, most of the actors you’d worked with are incredibly easy on the eyes.

But with Pedro, things were different. The amount of time that you’ve spent together during this project and the way your relationship developed, you didn’t stand a god damned chance. The way he talks, listens, looking you deep in your eyes and transfixing you with his soft baritone, even in the most casual of conversations. He makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room. You barely survived some of those interactions, walking away with jello legs and a pounding chest, enough to make you a little short of breath.

“Oh, come on, kid, don’t play dumb,” another one chimes in, “We know you two have the hots for each other.”

Wait.

Each other?

The girl next to you squeezes your hip again.

“We’ve been placing bets to see which one of you would slip up first. It’s hard to watch. You guys are so, so oblivious.”

EACH OTHER?

Your chest starts pounding hard as your breath kicks out from underneath you. You can feel the pinkish-red hue spread hot over your round cheeks, only masked by the makeup you had put on that morning.

“You guys,” you manage through slightly labored breathing, “He doesn��t… it’s not… he wouldn’t…”

“See, I told you guys, it's gone completely over her head.”

Everyone is chiming in at this point, fits of laughter erupting from either side of you.

You honestly can’t believe the implication. You, crushing on him, sure. Who wouldn’t? But him, crushing on you? This has to be some kind of joke.

It’s not that you lack confidence. You rate yourself. You’re sexy, funny, talented, kinky, a great cook and even better at cleaning, not that those last two are things that should define you in any way. You're versatile, you can go out dancing or cuddle up on the couch and have a great night either way. And as much as you’re high strung about your work, you make up for it by being fun in your personal life. Yes, you have some moderate anxiety issues, but once you feel comfortable around people you’re a pretty damn good time. As for your looks, you truly like your appearance, you feel at home in your body and love to flaunt your curves.

But you’re also realistic.

Being a bigger girl means things will always be a bit different for you. You have to watch your back, fatphobia is so rampant and completely acceptable according to society, especially in LA. You’ve been denied entry to clubs simply because of your size. You've barely dated and haven't hooked up with anyone since your big breakup, over two years ago now. But you're not an idiot, and you know if you did, it’s a whole different ball game when you’re plus size.

You’ve helped a few of your fat friends make Tinder profiles, constantly having to answer questions like 'Does this picture look like me?' 'Is this catfishy?' 'Should I put a disclaimer in my bio?'

It’s never due to lack of confidence on their part, it’s due to lack of trust in other people to not be fucking vile. It’s exhausting, constantly trying to protect and defend yourself from hatred towards your own body, a body that you've come to love so dearly.

Now, with that being said, Pedro Pascal does not strike you as the type to go after someone like you. Not because he’s a shitty person, but because he’s basically an A-list fucking celebrity who can likely pull any woman he wants. In your experience, most of the older men who have shown interest in you were simply fetishizing your body. You're absolutely certain Pedro would never do that though, his respect for women is so innate, you can’t even conjure an image in your head of him treating you that way.

But the truth is, as fucked up as it is, if men can have their pick of the bunch, most of them will go for a thin woman. Social conditioning is a bitch.

Not to mention, he’s quite a bit older than you. You're closer in age to Bella than you are to Pedro. It's not something that bothers you, you've always gone for people older than you, but you don’t know how he feels in that regard.

If you're being honest, you never even allowed yourself to entertain the thought of him returning your feelings. But now here you are, and for some reason the concept scares you utterly shitless.

You want to bolt in the other direction, get in your car, and drive until you see nothing but fields. Canada is pretty good for that, you can drive in any direction and end up somewhere with no houses or buildings for miles. You love to sing in the car and drive for hours with no destination in mind. Horrible for the planet, yes, but you have a hybrid so you cut yourself a bit of slack. It’s better than driving your quiet, elderly neighbors up the wall with your obnoxious belting.

What if he did feel the same way about you? Then what?

First of all, he’s famous, incredibly famous. He’s a goddamn heartthrob. You’ve seen the TikTok edits that Bella saves on their phone to taunt Pedro with. People want him, bad, and you don’t think they’d appreciate him having a woman in his life. You aren’t sure you can handle an influx of cyberbullying from teenage girls with unhealthy parasocial relationships and too much time on their hands.

Secondly, there is of course the unexpected nature of you being his pick, decades younger than him and certainly curvier than most would anticipate.

And of course, your job. What would this do to your reputation? You don't want to be the girl who is known for this kind of thing, You don’t even know if this kind of thing is allowed due to the nature of your working relationship. Would you ever be allowed to work with him again?

You can feel your breaths starting to get shorter and shorter as your internal dialogue continues to obsessively ramble.

“I have to run back to the trailer, y'all just... text me if you need me, 'kay?”

You briskly walk toward the direction of the massive white vehicles, grateful to be able to drop the act and let the panic you feel seep into your facial expression. You walk into the trailer and slump down into the chair, managing an unfortunate attempt at the breathing techniques your therapist taught you.

As your body finally begins to settle back into a healthy rhythm, you hear voices getting louder and louder.

Shit, they’re breaking for lunch.

Without thinking, you bolt out the door with your bag and hide behind the trailer furthest from the incoming crowd of people.

You just need to calm down.

As you settle, you take some more deep breaths, your head flat against the white metal of the trailer, cooling the heat of your scalp. It helps, and you get lost in the sensation, the breathing steadying you back into your body.

Suddenly you hear your name being called in a gravelly voice, slightly steeped in a southern twang.

“Don’t come back here, I’m infected!” you blurt.

Stupid, yes, but it’ll buy you a second to come up with an excuse as to why you’re hiding. Digging through your bag to find your phone, you suddenly see the vape your friend left with you months ago.

Perfect.

You pull it out along with your phone and quickly open Instagram to make it look like you’ve been casually scrolling this whole time. You take a quick pull from the cartridge and try to catch as much of the vapor in your mouth, trying to protect your lungs and throat so you don’t start immediately hacking.

You exhale just as Pedro turns the corner.

“What are you doing back here? For some reason you’re never where I expect you to be.” he quips, his feet in a wide stance and arms crossed, illuminating his broad shoulders.

“Oh, it’s super embarrassing,” you flash the vape in your left hand. “My friend got me addicted to this stupid thing. I’m trying to quit but... clearly not going so well.”

He snatches it out of your hand before you can protest, studying it like it's an ancient artifact.

“What exactly is this?”

“You’ve never seen an ElfBar before?”

He looks at you, dumbfounded and a little peeved.

“Here,” you step forward and use your hand to guide his, lining up the vape with his lips. “Inhale.”

That was a little more seductive than you intended.

He obeys, taking a much bigger hit than he probably should. A panic washes over his eyes just before he starts coughing and hacking, the mist flying out of his open mouth.

“What the fuck is that? It tastes horrible!” he starts making noises of disgust amidst his hacking.

You can’t help yourself from laughing at his excessive dramatics.

“It’s essentially flavored nicotine. I like it though, I feel like it tastes like Froot Loops.”

He attempts to gasp but chokes halfway through, his lungs still traumatized by the vapor.

“How dare you insult Froot Loops like that!” he booms, his face absolutely flabbergasted by the suggestion.

Your hands are on your knees now, completely doubled over and barely able to manage a breath. His bellowing laughter fills the space, bouncing off of the trailer walls and waltzing with your high pitched cackles. Unable to hold himself up, he places a hand on your shoulder, and you both lose your footing.

You trip backward, back hitting the trailer hard as he stumbles into you.

Your bodies collide for a moment, his face so close that you can feel his breath tickling your cheek. The laughter between you quickly subsides as your consciousnesses adjust to the proximity you share. You feel that familiar flush prickle your face as he places a hand on the surface behind you, pushing himself off.

You meet his gaze, gentle and sweet, eyes softly nestled in crinkled skin. Your breaths start to deepen and your lips part slightly, unconsciously, as you maintain the eye contact intensifying dangerously between you. His gaze wanders to your mouth and you draw in a sharp inhale, an image of his lips on yours flashing through your head.

Your body jolts when reality catches up to you. He quickly steps back, raises a hand to scratch his head as his eyes dart around. There’s a moment of thick, heavy silence between you, you hastily fussing with your fingernails as he continues to mess with his hair.

You can’t think of a single word in the English language to save your life right now.

“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to—” he fumbles through the words before you cut him off.

“No! No, it’s ok. It was an accident! Don’t worry, I’m ok—”

“Good!” He continues stammering, an undertone of panic lacing his tone. “Ok, good, I really didn’t mean to—”

“Why are you kids hiding back here?” a familiar accent cracks through the tension, a wave of relief crashing through your body.

Bella. Thank fuck.

“I... got P to try my vape!” you tease. “He’s… not a fan.”

You start to walk toward Bella, hoping that Pedro will follow you back to the more crowded area, desperate to get anywhere that keeps you from being alone with him

“Listen, If I’m gonna have nicotine, I’m just gonna stick to a good old-fashioned cigarette.” he states, still clearly trying to shake the Joel from his voice. He follows behind you, back to the open field where everyone is gathered.

Your hands are visibly shaking, so you hold them behind your back to hide them from the crowd. Beads of sweat start to prickle the back of your neck, the reality of what just happened hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You feel a strong hand rest on the small of your back and you jump. Hard.

“You ok?” a deep whisper floats toward your ear.

Why does he always have to be so fucking thoughtful?

“Never better!” you blurt, flashing a toothy, gaudy smile.

You’re a good liar, but not that good.

The two of you immerse yourselves in the swarm, pulled in different directions by little clusters of people that demand your presence. You desperately fight the urge to look back at him, but accept that the further you are from him right now, the better.

. . . . .

“And that's a wrap everybody!” Craig shouts towards the crowd of people behind him.

Cheers erupt, the crew hugging and high-fiving each other, little sounds of glee coming from every which way. In the distance, you see Pedro pull Bella in for a tight squeeze, their feet hovering off the ground as he spins them around in a circle. Arms and bodies push tightly against you as you get eaten alive by a clumsy group hug.

“I love you guys so much,” escapes you as you’re squeezed harder and harder, struggling to manage a full inhale. You’re going to miss this, miss them, so much. You can’t believe how fast these months flew by.

The group slowly starts migrating towards the trailers scattered in the faraway field. You hear chatter about dinner plans, possible parties, future projects and people excited to go home to their families and pets.

“Are you excited to go home?” The girl next to you inquires, her hand gripping yours fiercely.

“I mean, I miss my bed. And my bathtub. And kitchen. But honestly, I’m more sad to leave than anything else.”

It’s true, you miss your shitty little apartment. The AC doesn’t work half the time, the sink drains painfully slowly, and you swear you’ve heard scratching on the walls in your sleep. Staying in the pristine room you were put up in these past months has been far more luxurious than what you're used to, but it isn’t yours. You miss your posters, your record player, your stuffed animals, though you brought your most precious one with you to Canada. Just the thought of cozying up on your creaky mattress makes you feel warm inside, dissipating some of the discomfort you feel knowing this experience is over.

You sneak quietly into Pedro’s trailer and begin packing up your things. You snap a quick picture of your station, your hand in the frame making the heart symbol with your fingers that the kpop stars do.

The door creak open and you swing your head around to find Pedro standing in the doorway, hair tousled by the wind.

“Hey you!” he inches closer to you, opening his arms for a hug.

You throw your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes so you can rest your head on his shoulder. His arms find their way to your lower back, bunching the fabric of you shirt as he squeezes you tight.

“I’m so proud of you,” you gush, your hands unclasping from behind him and sliding off of his shoulders. “You were, you are, amazing. I can’t wait to see the final product.”

He reaches for your hand and gives it a little squeeze.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, you know. My hair could never be this gray without your magic.”

“Give it a few years,” you tease. “Next season you won’t need me at all.”

He lets out that laugh, the bellowing boom filling the space with its warmth and magic. Nothing butters you up more than that sound, a smile stretching across your face to make way for your giggles.

“So... a couple of us are going out for dinner and drinks after this, and you’re coming,” he orders, grabbing his shirt from the pile of folded clothes in the empty swiveling chair.

He begins to unbutton his flannel to reveal a white undershirt, slightly damp and sticking to his skin. Despite your straining efforts, your gaze follows his hands as they move lower… and lower… and lower…

“Whaddya' say?” he breaks your trance with the question.

Your vision goes fuzzy trying to focus solely on his face as he removes the shirt entirely.

His arms.

“U-uh, y-yeah. Sure. Yes. Where?” you stumble.

“I’m not exactly sure yet, but I’ll call you when I find out. We might be going out after, so I’m going to try to dress nice. You can if you want, too, but no pressure.”

He pulls his black t-shirt over his head, messing up his hair in the process.

You instinctively reach up to fix the bird’s nest he just created, running your fingers through to calm the frizz.

“God, what am I gonna do without you, Plum?” he grins sweetly, a soft chuckle wisping past his rosy lips.

Your stomach flutters as you press the pads of your toes into your shoes. Anything to keep you grounded.

“I have no idea. You’re pretty hopeless when it comes to that hair of yours,” you jab, using the palm of your hands to pat down the remaining flyaway curls.

He reaches a hand up to try and wrestle with your hair. You quickly duck, avoiding his touch.

“Hey! Never touch the hair man! You know better!”

As much as you'd love to feel his fingers raked through your hair, you’d be damned if he ruined your fresh blowout.

“But it’s too perfect, it’s begging to be messed with.”

He tries for it again but you manage another successful dodge.

“Enough! I’m outta' here!” you sass, grabbing your bags and head towards the door. “See you later?”

You pause in the doorway, looking back at him.

“See you later,” he winks.

. . . . .

You’re sitting at the far right end of the table, wedged in the corner awkwardly with your ankles crossed under your chair. Most of the actors are sat by each other, so it felt natural to join the crew on the other side. Only one other hairstylists showed, you aren't entirely sure what happened to everyone else, but you heard they would meet up with your group later on. Fingers crossed.

The black dress you chose for the evening tightly hugs your curves, flaring at the thigh and hemmed just above the knee. You’re wearing a sensible two-inch heel and some Dr. Scholls inserts, with the hope that there will be dancing and booze in the later hours of the evening. You stand out from the rest of the group, a bit overdressed compared to the others, except for Pedro.

He’s wearing a black button down, two buttons on the top undone, and a pair of pleated green slacks that cling to his figure in all the right places. His belt is sizable but not gaudy, and a gold band is fitted perfectly to his right ring finger.

Despite your desperate efforts not to, you've repeatedly gazed across the table to him, your prolonged gawking completely overriding your willpower.

His hands, god his hands, the veins prominent as he uses his knife to carefully cut into his steak. You know his grip is strong, you’ve been subject to many an affectionate hand squeeze. The thought of him running his thick fingers through your hair makes you white-knuckle your silverware.

The scrape of your knife jerks you back to reality, and you quickly join the conversation happening to your right. One of the guys tells an animated story about an ex-boyfriend that leaves the rest of you erupting in laughter.

Through your lingering giggles, you instinctively find yourself turning your head to sneak a glance at the handsome man across from you.

Only this time, you meet his gaze.

He’s not exactly smiling with his lips, but his eyes are, soft and crinkled along the outer corners. Your chest starts to flutter, but in the same instant, you feel the tension in your body melt, as he continues to stare back at you with a remarkable gentleness. A grin slowly takes over his face, his teeth catching the low lighting of the restaurant, and like a puppet, your lips mimic his.

“Pedro?” Bella questions in a whisper, lightly tapping his shoulder. “Merle is trying to get your attention.”

You jerk your head the other way, so violently that you know you’ll feel it tomorrow.

You can barely hear the conversation across the table, your burning desire to know if anyone witnessed the interaction impossible to soothe. You try to immerse yourself back into your group when a slight wave of dizziness washes over you, so you choose instead listen quietly, fidgeting with your phone in your hand.

A few minutes later, you feel a quick buzz against your palm, a notification from Pedro appearing on your screen. He’s never texted you before, always insistent on just calling you instead. You tuck your hands under the table as inconspicuously as you can.

P: We r going to a club after this. Want 2 come?

Of course he texts like that.

You hold in a chuckle and glance towards him. He smiles, throwing two thumbs up eagerly with a wiggle of his brow, clearly urging you to say yes.

You: I thought you didn’t like to text?

P: Didn’t want to yell across the table. Come party?

He attaches a bitmoji, an animation of him with a confetti cannon. Your eyes roll on instinct as you stifle your laughter.

You: I’ll come, but only if you take a shot with me.

He replies with a thumbs up.

. . . . .

After dinner, a celebratory cake, and a sea of hugs, approximately half of the group you started with hikes down a few blocks to a small, underground club. Pedro is a few feet behind you, out of your sightline as you hold hands with two of your favorite coworkers. The three of you try to skip in unison but fail miserably, the rhythm of your legs too disjointed to end with you all staying upright.

The bouncer lets you in one by one as you make your way down the steep metal stairs and into the bustling room. The lighting is mostly purple and blue, spotlights swirling around the shadowy, dancing bodies in the center. You mosey over to the bar and within a few seconds, Pedro slides in right beside you.

“What’s your shot of choice?” you shout over the blaring music.

He leans in, brushing your hair to the side so he can speak directly into your ear.

“You choose. I’m not picky.”

His breath tickles the skin on your neck, sending goosebumps down your spine with an inaudible gasp. Your focus flickers, thoughts of his mouth tasting your skin, mustache grazing as he trails lower... and lower...

No.

You snap out of it as you greet the bartender.

“Can we get four shots of Patrón?”

“Hey, you said one shot.” Pedro whines.

“You drink however much you want,” you place a hand on his chest, the atmosphere of the club creating a placebo effect of tipsiness. “I’ll drink whatever’s left.”

The bartender pours the tequila haphazardly into the shot glasses, already fixed with lime wedges, and slides them over to you.

“OK, grab one and lock arms with me.” you shout.

He obeys, linking his left arm with your right.

“Now, cheers me. Don’t break eye contact or it’s 10 years of bad sex,” you exclaim through a hearty grin.

“Can’t risk that,” he winks.

God, you want him.

Your glasses clink and you throw the shots back with your arms still snaked around each other. The smooth burn coats your throat as it settles in your stomach. You pull away, biting into the lime wedge asa you place your glass down gently on the countertop.

His skin is glimmering in this light, the purple and blue dancing along the dew decorating his hairline. The curve of his nose is especially highlighted by the beams, resembling that of a ancient sculpture.

“Another?” you grab the remaining two glasses and hold one up to him inquisitively.

“Not yet. Later, or I’ll pay for it in the morning.”

You hold both glasses up to your open mouth and pour, the sting burning all the way down your esophagus and warming your tummy. You leave the limes untouched.

“More for me,” you smile.

A hand grabs you by the waist and tugs at your dress.

“You have to dance with me to this song!” one of your friends from the makeup team shouts in your ear, much louder than she needs to.

Pedro grabs the shot glasses out of your hands, mouthing his words with a smile.

"Go."

You try to wave as you’re being dragged in the direction of the dance floor. The crowd swallows you entirely and he disappears from your eyesight.

“Everytime We Touch” by Cascada is booming through the subwoofers and rippling the floor. The bass flows through you and somehow intensifies the heat spreading in your midsection. You start to move your body to the beat, flipping your hair to one side and running your fingers through it. You close your eyes and let the music turn you into a vessel of rhythm.

. . . . .

You’re drunk. About thirty minutes ago, a few friends bought more shots, clumsily pouring them in your mouth as you continued dancing. It’s only been an hour and a half, and you’re already five shots deep.

Your inhibition is nowhere to be found.

As you’re twirling and bouncing around the dance floor, the crowd cracks open slightly, allowing you a slivered view of the bar. Pedro is there, leaning against the counter and watching you intently. He waves diffidently when your eyes meet his.

“Be right back,” you turn, shouting to the group, squeezing the hand of the girl nearest to you.

You manage to escape the sea of bodies relatively unscathed, although you're certain your hair is absolutely fucked. You plop down carelessly on the barstool next to Pedro, raking your fingers through your mane to hopefully tame whatever the hell is going on up there.

Pedro turns to the bartender.

“Can we get some water over here?” He motions towards you with his thumb.

The bartender slides a water bottle down the bar and Pedro catches it impressively.

“God, you read my mind.” you manage, still a bit breathless.

“Who said this is for you?”

He opens the bottle, his massive hand flexing, a thick vein prominent on the top. Your eyes wander to his tattoo, barely visible in the violet light. You're transfixed for a moment, your head crooking slightly to try and study it more closely, the dizziness that tequila inevitably sparks beginning to set in.

He chuckles at your ogling, handing over the water with a cracked-open lid.

“You were staring at me,” you blurt, any semblance of a conscience you once had completely dissolved by the amount of alcohol in your bloodstream. “I saw you.”

His eyebrow cocks.

“I could say the same thing about you at dinner earlier."

Your stomach drops at the confession, but for some reason causes you to burst with unbridled laughter.

He giggles along with you, his shoulders bouncing as his dimple slowly appears.

“You’re just really fun to watch out there. You dance very freely. And your dress-”

“What about my dress?” you jut, cutting him off with a drunken, flirty shove on the shoulder.

“It looks really nice on you. Fits you... just right.”

He doesn’t break eye contact as he says it, his voice gentle and tinged with desire. You can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips as your ears color in red. You can sense the wide, awestruck grin plastered across your lips, too inebriated to do anything about it. Your eyes soften as you melt into the moment, Pedro looking down at you with gaze that can only be described as one of pure admiration.

He reaches up a hand and smoothes down your flyaway hairs.

“I’m helping, I promise.”

You lock your eyes on a spot on a stain in the wood floor, suddenly overcome with a giddy shyness.

“Well, you… you look pretty spiffy yourself. I like your…”

Don’t say chest. Don’t say chest.

“... shirt… buttons.”

Shirt buttons?

He booms with laughter, hard enough that he doubles over, placing a hand on your thigh to keep from toppling over completely.

You throb at the touch, the core of it pulsing between your legs.

“I’ll have to wear this one more often,” he teases, his hand unmoving.

With every second that passes, the sensation of his palm pressing into your skin starts to burn, the throb morphing into a panging need under your skirt. You bite your lip hard, bearing through the searing ache.

You have to get out of here before you do something you’ll regret.

“I-I’m gonna go dance again. You wanna come?” you spring from the barstool. holding out a hand, beckoning him to follow you into the mass of sweaty bodies behind you.

“I’ll watch, you go. Have fun.” he smiles, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You turn away with a stifled grin, his words echoing in your head as the crowd swallows you whole.

. . . . .

chapter four

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #plus size reader #the last of us #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

139 notes · View notes

leebrontide · 5 months

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This is not gonna win me a lot of friends on here but seriously a lot of y'all are irritating me lately with your gleeful piracy posts.

"Poor people deserve stories, to!" You're right. 100% Go on gumroad. There are a ton of authors, myself included, who are giving away free books there. Many of them are from the very marginalized backgrounds y'all claim to want to champion. Look for newsletter giveaways. there are literally so damn many ways to get books that come from creators who have consented to give them away. Oh, but you think anyone should be entitled to the exact book they want without paying for it? the popular book from the big publisher? That's a different thing. That's a different thing that continues to uphold ideas that the mega-corporations are the only source for good stories, that only stories vetted by the companies you claim to be rallying against have value.

"Piracy is archiving!" Archiving is archiving. I can't speak to how it works with indie videogames or what have you, but with books, this is absurd. Ok, say you illegally download a book. If it's from a huge publisher, this is nonsense cause a ton of those were printed. It is not in danger if vanishing. Say it's from a small publisher- you have now decreased that publishers chances of of continuing to print and distribute the book. You are making the book harder to locate in the future. You want to make sure a book doesn't vanish? Pay for it. If it vanishes utterly off the internet when the author dies or whatever, then yay, you have a copy and can maybe help get it back in circulation. Not paying for the book didn't help with that. You can help save an out of circulation book later just as well if you paid for it.

"Piracy is counter corporations!" See point 1. Also, a lot of the sites where you all are pirating fiction do just as much scraping of indie, self-pub, and small press books. Robin Hood wasn't stealing from the poor to give to the poor. I personally know an author whose publisher dropped them mid series because the book wasn't selling, who later found a piracy site with WAY more downloads of her book than there were legal sales. She gave up publishing after that.

This isn't sour grapes, folks. To my knowledge, my own books have never been pirated, and to be honest, over the years I've sold as many copies as a regular mid-list author with a pig publisher.

But I have watched so many authors- not wealthy people- have their work stolen from them. Many of them are disabled and really struggle with other kinds of jobs. They can do this work, but they can't make money, and this is honest to god a big part of why. I feel like people don't believe this. If you don't hang around authors maybe it's tempting to buy in to the hollywood idea of an author.

If you don't think you're entitled to demand free labor from a plumber, then why do you think you're entitled to demand free labor from an author or artist? Is it because you don't have to look them in the eye? Is it because you feel like you can get away with it? Is it because you've fallen for the fantasy that authors are wealthy people living glamorous lives, and their labor doesn't count because they're so lucky to be making a living with their art?

I don't know. And please don't defend this to me.

Just go read free books, if you can't afford to buy them and don't have library access. Or at least stop rubbing what you're doing in the faces of all the creators on this website who put a lot of hard work into the things they make.

Reblogs are nice, but reblogs accompanied by cheerful endorsements of stealing things which aren't freely given do not make for an ideal community.

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mrsbsmooth · 1 year

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Future Islanders: My thoughts

My predictions about the Islanders we haven't seen yet, based on their character designs. This information will be 100% accurate, guaranteed*

*Not at all guaranteed

Spoilers under the cut. 18+. Contains gratuitous swearing.

Love his style, love his vibe, love his earring. He's so cute, and seems like he's gonna be really fun and flirty. But dear God, when I saw his surprised face, I just:

Those eyes - those fucking eyes. They are lifeless. Like this man has seen either seen some shit or had some serious plastic surgery, and I worry about him. I just… oh god, I got the ick so fast it's not even funny. And then I realised he got the same as Ozzy and got the Rocco flirty face which ends up looking like this emoji specifically

Definitely has a cool job though - maybe a runway model, artist, or some other artistic profession. Definitely from a cool part of Inner London.

*Editing to add:

It’s been brought to my attention that the way I worded this criticism is rather offensive, and I want to clarify what I meant. When I mentioned Andy’s eyes, I was referring to the way they were drawn. Usually when animating a character you’ll give them smile lines or crinkles to show a smile “reaches their eyes” etc, but this looks like they just slapped a shocked mouth on him and nothing else. My intention isn’t to make fun of his eye shape itself, or of any aspect of his ethnicity, it was a poorly worded/thought out criticism and I’m sorry 🤍

Villain. Calling it now, she's a villain. Her pose is too cool and confident to be anything other than a villain, because GOD FORBID Fusebox give us a strong, confident WOC that doesn't have some deep, unbridled desire to get her claws into whichever man we tell her we want.

I LOVE her design though. She's got super cute outfits, and isn't afraid to show a bit of skin (THAT CORSET TOP GIVE IT TO ME!) so definitely great style. I'm calling it now - she's a model. Might even be French. If she's French and a complete and utter bitch I might just fall in love with her, give me the pain, urgh.

SNAAAAKE SNAAAAAKEEE AHHHH IT'S A SNAAAAAKE

Don't let the glasses fool you. This man is a snake. I knew it from the second I saw him, and it's only been confirmed in the Casa postcards that @oliverslove posted. Never trust a blonde man (except Lewie, trust him with your life and ass).

Judges you on your book choices, but hasn't read one himself in years. Namedrops philosophers but has never had a unique thought in his life. Thinks some of Jordan Peterson's ideas "aren't actually that bad, when you think about it".

This is a man who looks innocent on the outside. "Oh, look at me, I'm a cute little nerd who reads books and plays D&D". But I guarantee, he's a fucking asshole. The kind of guy who thinks women owe him something, so treats them like dirt when they don't give him what he wants.

THAT SAID, his daywear is super basic but very cute, and he's wearing Versace underwear, so he's probably loaded. Jobwise - I'm putting my money on marketing or some other office-type job.

Okay, yeah, she cute. But I am suspicious of her too. Something about her screams Lily from S3 to me, like she's gonna come in purely to take my man. And what's worse, in the Casa postcard she's in bed with a girl, so she might even be taking my girl too!!!!

Love her style, but don't love her vibe. I can't even develop any thoughts outside of wild jealousy.

🤢 sorry, let me just *throws up in my mouth*, 🤢 Felix 2.0, God, I hate his character design so much. When I saw him briefly in his daywear I got SO EXCITED because I thought we might be getting a dadbod, but no, apparently the guy who walks around in the camel-hair woven poncho has a FUCKING EIGHT-PACK (FUSEBOX IN WHAT UNIVERSE?!!??!?!??) Then I thought he might be an environmentalist type, you know, vegan, save the animals and that. But then I saw his LEATHER JACKET and SHARK TOOTH NECKLACE and God damn it, I've lost all faith. This guy wants so bad to be Rocco it's not even funny, at least Rocco was decent looking, this guy has a pig snout for a nose and a smooshy face, don't ask me to elaborate, I hate him, and don't get me started on the fact he's wearing SANDALS with his FORMALWEAR

Smokes so much weed he can't get it up, will disappoint anyone who comes near him. Stay away, 0/10.

Gold diggers come get your man! It's Lucas Beresford-Smug the third. If this guy doesn't have a double-barrelled last name and a numeral in his name I will buy a hat and fucking eat it. Absolute guaranteed 100% arrogant FUCKHEAD, giant twat, thinks he is God's gift to women until he inevitably meets MC and falls so desperately in love that he changes his ways to show her he's the man she deserves. Yeah, okay, the storyline's predictable. Yes, he's likely an insufferable, sheltered, self-obsessed pig. But does that make me want him any less? ... No it does not.

Already posted it in response to @rebelrayne's husband's thoughts but what kind of spoilt little asshole wears a US$20,000 watch IN THE FUCKING SHOWER!!!!!!!

I don't care that it's water resistant to 100m you don't wear a $20k watch IN THE SHOWER and expect people to not think you're a complete and utter fucking asshole. He's a Jasper/ Lucas / Tom hybrid, with Taron Egerton's body and face, I'm getting a short king vibe but maybe that's just from the way his suit is way too big through the shoulders for him, making him look like a 1920's gangster. Works in finance or medicine, I will stake my life on it.

Blindfold this man, kidnap him, and handcuff him to the bed in the hideaway, he may very well be the death of my loyal Lewie route. He is so fine I can't breathe, it's something about the beard. Bearded men are the death of me. And if he's Ozzy's older brother, sorry, suddenly I can't breathe.

I have very few thoughts about him other than the fact he's a fucking stunning piece of artwork that, if real, I would physically need to take a bite out of. I am barking at him, god fucking damn. The arrogance and confidence and big dick energy required to wear an all-cream outfit is just... urgh, someone splash me with water.

Unfortunately, like his brother and Andy, our beloved and holiest daddy (Marshall) also got the Rocco treatment for his flirty face

It's not as bad because his beard covers the smirk, but holy shit, Fusebox, do better. I don't want to be doing a steamy scene with the boys and they whip out THIS. It makes me want to punch something. DO BETTER.

What an absolute waste of a hot-guy name. This dude looks like John Travolta had a child with Littlefoot from The Land Before Time. His mouth looks like it was slapped on his face as an afterthought, his eyebrows are too thick, and the only hot face he has is his angry one, which I'm going to be trying to elicit as often as possible. He looks like he's been to prison, Wentworth Miller vibes but not in a sexy way. Tried to join the skinheads but they didn’t want him. Tried to get a teardrop tattoo to look hard but everyone just ignored him. Strongest of strong dislike, 0/10, I will slander Toby until the day I die. Boooo. BOOOOO.

#litg s6 #litg season 6 #litg dt #litg doublte trouble #litg character review #litg andy #litg chloe #litg elliot #litg flo #litg francis #litg #litg marshall #litg toby #litg hamish

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thebramblewood · 11 months

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Oasis Springs Side Quest: Part V (The Finale)

This tarot-reading pose pack by @radioactivedotcom is the main one I used! Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck and spreads by @the-dewofthesea with some personal tweaks by me.

Previous / Next

Transcript under the cut.

Celeste: “Now, darling, what question will we be posing to the universe tonight?”

Helena: “Oh, I… Well, that’s a pretty loaded question in itself. Maybe we should just ask what I’ll have for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

Ulrike: “Take this seriously, Zhao!”

Helena: “I am. But what if I ask the wrong thing and learn, like, the exact date of my death?”

Ulrike: [chuckles] “I don’t think that’s quite how it works.”

Helena: “Fine. Then I guess I’ll ask what my final year of college has in store.”

Celeste: “Good. I’ve cut the deck. Now, choose four cards at random and, without looking, place them face down in the center of the table. Let’s see what the cards have to tell us about your future. They’re more illuminating some days than others, so we must be receptive to whatever they’re willing to divulge.”

Helena: [nervously] “So what are they saying so far?”

Celeste: “Patience, dear. The full meaning will not become apparent until all the cards are laid out. We must reveal the fourth before we’ll know. Oh. Well, this certainly makes things more interesting.”

Helena: [groans] “Oh, God, what is it?”

Celeste: “You’ll not want to take this one at face value.”

Helena: “Just show me!”

Celeste: [holds up the Death card]

Helena: “Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Damn it, Faust! Why did I let you talk me into this?”

Ulrike: [cracks up] “The way you jumped like Grim himself just entered the room.”

Celeste: “Death is almost never meant to be taken literally in the context of the tarot.”

Helena: “Almost never?!? That seems to imply that it sometimes is!”

Celeste: “Let’s take in everything we’ve got here before jumping to conclusions.”

Helena: “Well, the Lovers has to be us, right? Oh, God, our relationship is going to die, Ulrike.”

Ulrike: “Will you stop freaking out and let her do her job?”

Celeste: “This spread is all about transformation. Many changes are brewing, some more difficult than others. Your relationship will be one of them. You’ll find yourself up against a great obstacle, and the outcome of that struggle will determine if the connection between you and your partner strengthens or weakens.”

Helena: “Okay... And what about the Magician? How does he fit into all this?”

Celeste: “Well, the Magician may symbolize self-actualization. You’ll have to tap into your inner strengths to face the decisions ahead. But it can also be a warning.”

Helena: “A warning of what?”

Celeste: “Illusion, deceit, manipulation. Perhaps a situation that is not as it seems or an untrustworthy individual.”

Helena: “Please don’t tell me I’m going to fall for an MLM scheme.”

Ulrike: “Helena!”

Helena: “What? It’s a valid concern.”

Celeste: “Whatever or whoever crosses your path, the Queen of Swords reminds you of your fortitude. She advises you to remain clear-headed, rational, and objective in your decision-making.”

Ulrike: [snorts] “You’ve already got that part down, Zhao.”

Celeste: With Death comes rebirth, and it is up to you to determine what you make of this new life when it arrives.”

…

Ulrike: “What’s the verdict? Are you a believer now?”

Helena: “Eh, not really. Transformation, hard decisions, inner strength… It’s so vague! She must follow the same script every time.”

Ulrike: “That Death card got you pretty bad.”

Helena: “It just caught me off guard is all.”

Ulrike: “And all that talk about deception?”

Helena: “I doubt I’ll be meeting a con artist any time soon.”

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 story #simblr #story: hzid #please do not clock the fact that i just rephrased summarized info i found on google #i am not a tarot expert & this is not meant to be accurate #it's for the atmosphere and dropping hints about future plotlines #speaking of dropping hints look closely at the last photo for a little surprise #helena zhao #ulrike faust #celeste de lune

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nico-esoterica · 2 months

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Rachel Chinourir—I read her chart and started crying at midnight after listening to her music

Newly 25, this super star’s experiencing her 2nd house profection year. This means that the name of the game for her this year’s gonna be all about how she’s providing for herself and proving she can be self-reliant. She’s establishing herself as an adult during that stressful period in your mid 20s when you start finding that blurry distinction between yourself and what your environment demands you be. Add an exploding fanbase and platform into the mix and whiplash is the cherry on top.

Especially since the last eclipse cycle occurred on her 1/7 axis—this means that with her Scorpio stellium, she was going through it and underwent several personal transformations and ‘realizations’ is what I’m hearing in regards to how she sees herself versus what she’s been forced to be out of survival. It was a very emotionally messy period for her for a while. But what came out of the rubble of her previous emotional life was this unbreakable will to draw that boundary and keep it firm. “I’m not like the rest of you” is what I’m hearing intuitively. Feels related to mental health. Or “I will not be”—another possibility.

(rectified time - isn't exact but close) In my experience, people with strong Scorpio influence are sponges of generational trauma they’re viscerally made aware of from an early age. An artist who comes to mind is Willow Smith who has a Sun-Mercury in Scorpio with its ruler empowering it from her 4H of home and family lineage. In recent years, we’ve learned about her family and its issues.

She’s come out of a rough period of trying to do what all m/zillennials were told regardless of the Pluto in Cap global recession hitting in ‘08—”No matter what happens, you MUST get your degree. You NEED to get that super stable job because that’s the only way you’re going to have a future.” That’s very loud in her chart to me because that Pluto was moving through her 3H of early childhood education and experiences and was forming a gnarly square over the past couple years (beginning of pandemic) to her late Aries Saturn. Means there was pressured incentive for her to ‘get her life together,’ notably from a father or authority figures in her life.

She’s always been capable but even if she could ‘hold’ said stable job, her mind was always elsewhere. Daydreaming and scribbling lyrics and poetry is what I’m hearing/seeing by looking at her Pisces Moon and Jupiter co-present in her 5th. Creative classes and activities or even artistic programs she excelled in. But the latter planet being Retrograde makes me think that she doubted her talents despite an abundance of people reassuring her that she’s gifted. Beyond gifted and has always been. Her 9H ruler of higher education (and I can see this also meaning specialized programs) being well aspected in her 5H of creativity tells me as such.

With Pluto consistently hitting her water planets since roughly 2010, because this is a planet of crisis and rebirth, she’s most likely dealt with both internal and external pressures that, on one hand, were god damn awful (her natal Sun-Uranus square on her ¼ is LOUD) and supplied a mental health minefield, they also gave her a super power for expression. She learned she found a home for it in the arts. With such an overwhelming amount of Scorpio in her 1st, it puts a psychic target on your back. You constantly feel attacked and this will be doubly true if her MC’s at a later degree in her 10th because it’ll be squaring her Mercury (and Chiron, potentially), meaning that whenever she opened her mouth, she got lambasted for it.

It’s giving, "Fix your mouth—Who do you think you’re talking to??” Her having a 10H North Node with Uranus co-present in Aquarius in her 4H with her South Node illustrates that, and I can speak about this from experience, was simply ‘different.’ Usually, having a 10/4 North vs South node link means that you, quite literally, want to catapult yourself from where you came from. You find it limiting to the point of being suffocating. Especially w/ her 6H Saturn ruling her houses related to everything family and early experiences related—Means there was an expectation about how she was supposed to act and a ‘path’ she was meant to follow and she couldn’t fit her edges within the smooth yet predictable edges of that circle—Cycle. When you have Uranus in these houses, especially in Saturnian signs like Capricorn or Aquarius, this means that your environment will often flow one way and you will flow the opposite or in several directions at once. It means that you are potentially on different generational and socio-political axes and will contribute to feeling like Marvin The Martian in your own home. It often leads to finding refuge in creative outlets. And we find that next door with her IC, Jupiter, and Moon in her 5th.

With Saturn transiting here since last year, she’s been establishing herself independently as an artist and has been met with great upward momentum and success. The craft she’s been nurturing and building for years (Saturn) trining that Scorpio stellium is presenting rewards for that work and her willingness to be vulnerable in an oversaturated industry that relies on gimmick and polish. Her Mercury-Neptune sextile exact in a fame degree that’s also making a lovely aspect to her Moon—Her music is uncomfortably intimate and honest, especially to anyone that’s neurodivergent or on the margins (strictly going by her chart alone). These qualities in music’s current landscape are rare and they’ll be what distinguish her as an artist and keep her fed.

But with her benefiting from the current eclipse cycle firing up her 6H of what many of us ‘do’ for a living w/ her Saturn here (in preparation for her Saturn Return), her biggest challenge is not letting her perfectionist anxiety over her work’s ‘worthiness’ to others with their eyes officially on her cause her to self-sabotage or become self-conscious. She’s got the audience and has built it up but with explosive momentum and ‘overnight’ success comes the potential for our boundaries to weaken because we’re suddenly hyper-aware of ourselves.

Due to her tendency to self-monitor (most likely as a learned response), her Scorpio Mercury ruled Virgo Mars can cause her to suffocate her own self expression because she’s so used to being fucked with. And with that Mars ruling her fame degree Retrograde Aries Saturn, she never knows when enough’s enough—Have I done enough? Is this even good? I know it’s good! But is it really? Maybe I should work harder. I’ll work harder—Cycle, Rinse and Repeat. This is giving child of immigrants energy. I know so many of you feel called out by this right now.

Her debut album’s release looks promising. The 2H for her ruler of the year (Jupiter) is in Capricorn and she started blowing up on socials during Saturn’s months (Jan-Feb). The activation points where we’re going to see the most activity will be during this release in Aries and Taurus season (April-May). What’s interesting is that since the upcoming eclipse in April is hitting the album chart’s Mercury (almost exactly) a whole month prior, I fully anticipate a notable person (esp w/ Aries placements) to pull another Adele and uplift her or vouch for her in some way.

When Adele did, Jupiter was exactly opposite her Sun and it occurred during those Saturnian months and their charts have a bundle of points suggesting very strong synastry. It also happening right before Rachel’s lunar return with Adele’s NN hitting said Moon natally honestly felt like fate if we’re going strictly by the stars alone. And I also predict she’ll go viral during Virgo season (her lord of the year ruler’s 10H) because in September, the Gemini Jupiter floating around will be applying an exact square to her natal Jupiter. I think it’ll be totally beneficial but it can represent her adjusting (or needing TO) that’s uncomfortable at first (related to her image, sound, etc) that’ll benefit her in the long run. Jupiter in Gemini in her ruler’s chart in its 7H is giving contracts or boundaries-type vibes. Or even social expectations.

After writing this I heard The Hills and Maybe I'm Lonely and felt my old self seen in a way I don't think I've ever related to an artist expressing. Is this what it felt like when young Gen Xs in the 90s heard Hole or Nirvana's soul-piercing vocals for the first time? Because I honestly have chills.

That Scorpio Stellium of hers in her first and her 29 degree Mercury are indicators of the potential for meteoric fame in the eyes of the collective, but it'll be close and intimate.

When she comes to LA, I'm buying a concert ticket.

#Rachel Chinourir #celebrity astrology #astrology #astro essays #hi rachel i would love to read for you professionally #i'm not lying about crying bc i literally feel like walking outside and sitting in my car and playing the hills 99x #rachel chinouriri astrology

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elfsone · 2 years

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Final thoughts on KP

Just want to preface this by saying that I am not one of those people who had waited for 2 years for this and had to go through all the drama of them getting shelved etc. Hence I have absolutely no emotional attachment to this show. But if you are one of those people who have waited and this is the most perfect little thing for you, you do you! God knows I have my own favorites and comfort pieces of media/music, which may not be ‘objectively’ great, but I would fight till my last breath for.

Secondly, I am relatively new to the world of BLs. Started watching during the pandemic, probably have only watched 6-7 shows in all. So I am watching it just like any other show. I don’t have many points of references to talk about how groundbreaking this is or how they have improved upon the shortcomings or problems associated with this genre. (What I can say is that it is way better than 2gether😜)

Phew okay! I believe that the show was carried by the great acting. Usually the side characters can break the experience but everyone in this show was a very good actor. (My personal favorite has to be build playing pete. More on that maybe sometime later). Also the cinematography, sets, lighting etc etc were really good! The show had a big budget and it showed. Most of the shots were artistic and beautiful. But I have to say the writing on the show was weak. Now that may be the problem of the source material as I have seen multiple posts saying that novel was trash and boc has done a great job in interpreting it. I have personally not read the novel (I have only read the vegaspete side stories), so I can’t comment on that. While the story can’t be changed a lot, what could be improved upon was the pacing. The pacing in the show was really off. A lot of the times things felt unnecessarily stretched out and you are left wondering what actually happened in this ep. I caught myself getting distracted one too many times especially during the later eps. This is not an american tv show with multiple seasons. They did not have the luxury of time. This is the reason, some characters or arcs could not be fleshed out very well which dampened the experience. Some eps could have done with tighter editing and better writing. Like I honestly could care less about what happened to porsche’s mom as we were not invested in that person at all. While I understand that according to the novel timeline, this arc had to come after everything happens but how am I supposed to feel sympathy for a character I met 10 mins ago! Porsche has also never really talked about his parents, so him seeing his mother alive after all this time did not hit emotionally at all. Kim crying over chay’s polaroids... when did he fall that hard? Should we cry with him? Torture scenes interspersed with people partying in a club had me reeling.

I also could not wrap my head around the extreme tonal shifts that happened out of the blue. Some comedy scenes were really good, one that comes to mind is introduction of tankhun. Khun in his pink bath robe holding his dead fish. Amazing. But most of the time comedy scenes felt contrived and jarring mostly because they occurred when you least expected them too and they really took you out of the moment. For eg, recently in ep 14, when vegas is about to shoot porsche calling him kinn’s heart, a well done emotional scene is cut by a toy car with pink balloon?! (Please tell me this does not happen in the novel! I’ll bang my head against the damn wall!). I entered this show with no background and randomly coming across the trailer made me think it was going to be a dark gritty show set in the underworld which it is absolutely not. I imagined kinn’s character living the life of kim(living a double life) or vegas (traumatised by this life). But that’s on me. Future viewers should note that this is first and foremost a sweet love story. The main hero happens to be in the mafia.

The final point is that the main cp did not hit it off with me. A big problem for me was that they reduced these two rich characters- a mafia heir battling his demons and trying to please his father and an orphan boy working hard to survive in this world and provide for his brother- to just two boys in love. Kinn and porsche lost all personality and character except being boyfriends. Before y’all come at me for being a cynic who hates romance, I just wanna put out that cherry magic is one of my favorite shows of all time. Ok now cue the boos. For me the problem with kinnporsche is not their lovey-doveyness but their absolute lack of communication and trust. Call me a prude but problems are not solved by having sex. Kinn called porsche a slut, did not tell his plans about tawan to porsche and put him in jail, porsche spied on kinn’s meeting and did not apologize, porsche ran away with kinn’s enemy etc etc. Most of these conflicts culminated in them having sex. While those scenes were beautiful cinematographically, I couldn’t get into them as that was not the resolution I wanted. But ALL the praise to mile and apo (esp apo, his experience shines through). I firmly believe that this ship is so popular because of their great acting and phenomenal chemistry. They really looked like two men in love.

I really enjoyed the vegaspete cp. I was initially drawn to vegas’ charcater, he seemed to be a layered and complex villain. That’s why I read the vp side story after ep 6 or 7. Then pete came out to be an even more interesting and complex character and I really fell in love both of the charcaters individually before I loved them together as a couple. As I have read their story, I would say that the relationship did seem rushed. I wish we could get some of their sweet moments from the novel (I know they are just the side couple but just an extra 15-20 mins spread out over 3 eps would have done the job). Just so we could understand the depths of their love. We needed to see what pete was missing when he left and not just kinky sex. (Someday when my tears have dried up and I am tired of rewatching their scenes, I will do a bigger post on vegaspete)

Kim and chay were interesting. Whatever scenes they had they were really good. You could feel chay’s teenage love and kim’s inhibitions. I needed some more time (time again huh? one thing we didn’t have :P) to be really invested in their relationship. I really liked kim as a character. What or why was he investigating, I still have no clue.

But all in all, it was good show (I know, after all that!?). It provided good entertainment, great to binge watch. Personally not very high rewatch value for me.

Fave eps- Ep3, Ep7

Fave Character- Vegas, Tankhun

Fave Actor- Build, Apo

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #vegaspete

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hannahsmusings · 1 year

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Renee

*my heart pounded at the thought of him coming to California, wondering if he meant for me or just for fun, always being so against long distance relationships but I knew I would do it with him which was just crazy considering I just met him and I was somehow already planning our future and how living across the country from one another would be* *I nearly melt at the way he was looking at me, him not making fun of my childishness, him seeming to embrace it which was so new, my smile just growing as he presses his corn dog with mine, loving the silliness of all of this, slightly bouncing in place since I was so excited to try the corndog* *I take a big bite, holding my finger out to him as I chew, it being so bad yet delicious all at once, understanding why people craved them* *I finally swallow, looking up at him again, my face more serious this time but my eyes were still bright* Fucking. Delicious. *I give him a huge grin before taking another big bite, us having nothing like this out on the west coast, everything being so healthy and vegan and all that, this corndog had nothing organic or vegan in it and it was fucking amazing* *we both enjoy our corndogs quietly, getting down to my last bite, never eating anything that quickly before* Your tattoos… and the callouses on your fingers. That’s how I could tell that you were a musician. No man who wants a 9-5 career path gets that many tattoos… it’s a stereotype, but it’s true. And the callouses kind of spoke for themselves… I don’t think you’re getting those from typing on a keyboard. *I look up at him through my lashes before taking my last bite, humming contently at the flavor, savoring it before swallowing* You just scream ‘I’m an artist’. Just a natural and genuine passion that true musicians exude. You don’t wanna be on the Top 40s Hits or anything like that, you just want to perform your music to whoever will listen…

________________________

*god damn I was obsessed with you already, cataloguing all the endearing things you did so I could remember them and hopefully get you to do them again, you bouncing before eating being my favourite thing so far, wanting to cuddle you in and shower you with fond kisses, overwhelmed with affection I felt for you and surprised myself with how strong it was* *grins happily and checks my imaginary watch playfully as you hold your finger up, letting out a loud woop of joy as you say it was delicious, grinning and taking my first bite as you take your second, humming and chewing it down eagerly as I look at you with bright excited eyes, having not enjoyed a corn dog like this one in a long time* Told you. So good right? *chuckles as we both begin to walk again and enjoying our corn dogs in silence, before finishing and throwing my stick in a bin before wiping my hands on one of the tissues I’d collected from the stand and handing you one* *cocks a brow as you mention my tattoos, realising what you were getting it, looking down at my hands and realising I did have callouses, surprised you’d noticed* *looks back up to your face and our eyes immediately locked, feeling my stomach twist with the truth of your words and surprised by how easily you’d read me* Yeah, you’re right. Whoever hired you needs a raise, you’re good at your job. *smiles, shrugging a little bashfully to have the attention on me* I started playing guitar when I was 12, not stopped since. Unfortunately it doesn’t most the bills so hence the law degree. *shrugs, but smiling at you, never really sharing this side of me with anyone before*

#submission #renee plot

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joshjacksons · 3 years

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Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

#joshua jackson #interviews #jodie turner smith #dawson's creek #dr death #fringe #emilio estevez #mr porter #patrick stewart #michelle williams #katie holmes

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harrysgloves · 4 years

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In the Middle

Harry Styles x Reader x Florence Pugh

Story Summary: Florence and Harry are smitten with their makeup artist on set.

Word Count: 10k (dear god I got carried away. I’m so sorry)

Warnings: Language // Threesome // MFF // Oral Sex (Female Receiving) // Unprotected Sex // Spanking (I couldn’t not include this) // Dirty Talk // W | W (obviously) // Mentions of religion (it’s more a metaphor.. not sure how to explain that?) //

Authors Note: Woooo boy, she’s finally done. Been working on this baby for a while so please comment. I’d love to hear your feedback! Also, the reader has an adopted last name in this... Not sure if that bothers anyone or not but if it does please tell me and I won’t do that in future fics.

>>><<<

It was your first day on this movie set and honestly, you were scared shitless. This movie was so star-studded you were almost positive that you'd say something stupid to at least one of them. That'd be just your luck, your first job as lead makeup artist and you'd let some gibberish crap fall out your mouth.

You took a deep breath, standing in front of the door to your trailer. Your trailer. It was so surreal, you were finally getting your lead moment, and all you could think about was 'I better not mess this up and get black listed.'

"Gonna open the door or are ya goin' to do makeup out 'ere?" The voice from behind you caught you off guard. You wished you wouldn't have let out the shriek when you jumped around to see the beautiful specimen of a man standing in front of you.

Of fucking course it had to be one of the main actors.

Your face heated. Your cheeks burned hotter than the sun when you heard him chuckle from his spot. His hands shoved deep in his pockets as he looked at you like you were the most amusing thing he'd seen in a while.

"Don't scare the poor girl." His co-star said as she walked up from behind him. Her hand slapped against his chest as she walked past him and towards you. His grin never faltered as you stood there completely starstruck and trying your best to not be a blubbering idiot.

"Here, lemme help." She said as she held out her hand. A sweet smile forming on her lips when you handed her the keys.

"Always make me out to be a dick, love." Harry mumbled to Florence when she finally found the right key to your trailer door.

"Easy to make you out to be a dick when you are one." She said with a shrug. He rolled his eyes but you could tell it was all in good fun. "If he messes with you, jus' tell me. I'll take care of him."

"Think she's gonna 'ave to talk to us 'fore she goes tellin' on me." He smiled widely as he teased you. Whatever shred of your usually vibrant personality had been completely washed away by nerves. You couldn't believe you were standing in either of their presence.

If only your 13 year old self could see you now. Even she would be telling you that you're a fucking idiot.

"We don't bite." Florence said as she pulled you inside your trailer. Your head nodded because honestly it was the only way to guarantee that you wouldn't say something stupid.

"Unless yeh want us to." Harry teased. Florence immediately shot him a look you'd never want to see directed at you.

"I'm good." You squeaked out. Your bag being quickly thrown on your table before you turned on all the lights to the place.

It was simple but it was completely yours. You were finally the head honcho, the boss, the shot caller. It was all up to you- how the makeup looked, how the prosthetic were applied. It was something you were pretty sure would never happen to you but knowing Olivia Wilde definitely had it's privileges.

You'd never imagined working on The Lazarus Effect would lead to almost a five year friendship with so many great opportunities. Plus, she didn’t judge you for your train-wreck of nerves you had your first day of work.

"So yeh know us. Wot's yeh name?" Harry asked you after mindless banter with Florence. Her head filled with curlers turned to look at you standing over Harry. The foundation you were dabbing on his face smeared slightly as your nerves picked back up.

You were never good at the talking part of the job. Not until you warmed up to people a bit. You were definitely more reserved of the makeup artist in the industry. You stuck to yourself for the most part and only your closet friends knew how you really were and you really preferred not getting mixed up in any celebrity business.

"Um, Y/N." You said as you sat the makeup brush down on your table before moving to start taking the curlers out of Florence's silky blonde hair. The perfectly formed curls bounced out, your fingers ran through them to diffuse them a bit.

"Been doing this long?" She asked as you busied yourself with hair. Trying your best to not pull or tug on it too hard and hurting her on accident.

"Not long." You said, the nerves you had dissipated a bit when you talked about something that you enjoyed doing. "Five years but I mostly did low budget horror films."

"Step up from that then, innit?" Harry asked, both their eyes burned into you. Your face immediately heated again at the attention.

"A bit." You said as you finally took the last roller out of Florence's hair. You were so close to being done and getting away from everybody long enough for your anxiety to let up. "First movie I get to be in charge of the makeup department."

"Explains the nerves." Florence hummed out as she sat up in the chair, fluffing her own hair a bit as she examined your work.

"Yeah, sorry about earlier. I get a little lost in the mornings without coffee." You paid close attention to them both smiling at you. Somehow feeling like you were missing a joke until they both spoke at the same time.

"You should do tea instead."

"Never going to happen. I need my coffee to function." You said pointedly, knowing deep in your heart that you would forever be a coffee lover.

"No way." Florence scoffed but you didn't miss that hint of a smirk on her lips as she looked towards Harry.

"'Aven't had the right tea."

"I'm not abandoning my one true love like that." You said with your arms crossed over your chest.

"Boyfriend doesn't get mad that coffee is your one true love?" Florence asked while Harry nodded his head in agreement.

You couldn't help the laugh that left your. A fit of giggles you didn't think you'd be letting out near them any time soon or ever. Your hand came up to tell them to give you a second to compose yourself. Their eyes moved back and forth between each other and you, confusion clearly etched into their expressions.

"You really think me, who couldn't even open the door this morning, is out hitting on people? Honestly, that's the best compliment I've ever gotten." You said as you turned back around to sit down the rest of the curlers in your hands. Random giggles still escaping from you as you shook your head in disbelief.

"They could've came onto yeh." Harry said like he was trying to figure you out. Another burst of laughter came from you when you turned back around, hands on your hips as you looked at both the ungodly beautiful people in front of you.

"I'm not really the type that attracts attention but really this was a great confidence booster." You smiled at them, whatever words both of them were about to say was interrupted by the knock on the trailer door.

"Hey, you guys are needed on set." Some assistant said quickly before walking away from the trailer.

"Guess we gotta go. We'll see you in a bit." Florence smiled brightly at you before turning and walking out the door with a cute bounce in her step.

"See yeh, love." Harry mumbled, his hand ran through his thick brown curls that you'd spent too much time styling for no reason. He followed her out the door. His long confidant strides quickly caught up with Florence. His arm around her shoulder talking to her as you shut the door.

Maybe working with them wouldn't be so bad. Maybe you'd even learn how to not be a total mess around famous people or maybe you could even make new friends. It was a nice thought you decided, they both seemed genuinely nice to you and you could always use new connections to get yourself out there a bit more.

>>>

It only took 4 hours and a shit ton of retouches on everyone's makeup to finally get to your break for the day. Your feet were sore, your whole body felt like it'd been beat up, and you still hadn't had any caffeine. If you didn't get any in you soon you'd be cast in the next remake of Godzilla.

You quickly jumped at the opportunity to run like the wind when it was announced it was lunch time. Your sprint towards freedom was stopped at the sound of your name being called out. You groaned quietly to yourself, cursing whatever god out there for hating you this much.

All you wanted was a damn coffee, was that too much to ask for?! You didn't think so, but apparently, someone out in the universe had it out for you today.

Fast footsteps sounded from behind you as you stood in your spot. Yes, you were making them come to you because fuck them for not realizing lunch time meant you didn't want to chitchat.

"Wanna grab lunch with us?" Her voice rang from behind you, making you feel like such an asshole for making her walk to you.

You turned around to see the group of people she wanted you to have lunch with. Which included everyone from the set. Not just her and Harry, everyone.

Your eyes widened as you looked at all of them. There was no way you could fake it through lunch with all those people you didn't know looking at you. Expecting you to be able to answer simple questions about yourself. Being able to carry on a semi decent conversation. You were exhausted at the mere thought of trying to not seem like a total nutcase for an entire hour.

"Thanks but I think I'm going to put on a pot of coffee in my trailer." You said as your eyes moved away from the crowd of people back to her. Her face couldn't hide emotions even in the slightest bit. Her eyebrows furrowed, lips rolled into her mouth, trying to not look disappointed but you could see the hint of it lingering behind her eyes.

"Sure. Have a good lunch." She said in a soft voice that made your heart feel like it was getting ripped out of your chest.

You stood and watched long enough to see her shaking her head at Harry. His arm around her shoulder as he frowned down at her before looking up to you. A soft smile across his lips before he bent down to say something lowly in Florence's ear.

You turned on the spot and headed for your trailer. A sigh of relief left you the second the door closed. You were always the type that needed recharge time. You had to be alone for a bit here and there during the day so you could unwind. Wash all the anxiety from being around people off you.

You hit the playlist you had saved on your phone as your chill out music. The coffee pot in your trailer gurgled in the background over your music. The slow soft beats filled the air around you. Swirling beautiful with the scent of the coffee.

You lived for this shit.

"Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise.

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies."

You were at the best moment, the cup of coffee in your hand, your voice echoing the words of the song you had a slight obsession with when a knock came from your door.

"Shit!" You yelled when the coffee from your cup splashed out at your knee-jerk reaction to the interruptive knock. The hot liquid barely missed you but still… you could cry over spilled coffee, right?

You threw down a towel you had in arms reach on the floor before scurrying to the door. Hoping it was Olivia here to tell you that she decided to go in a different direction and needed to replace you as head makeup artist.

"Scares like a cat." Harry said more to Florence than you when your head poked out of the door. You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile forming on your lips.

"You made me spill my coffee." You said with a fake pout. Harry's eye brightened as his dimpled smile came across his face.

"Good, we brought you something better." Florence chimed in, a cup of something that definitely wasn't coffee in her hand was now glaring at you. A bag of take out boxes in another.

"Ew." You scrunched your nose as you looked at the offensive cup. Your hand finally opened the door enough for them both to slip in.

"You guys didn't have to bring me lunch." You brows furrowed. Why were they being so nice to you? You had no idea. You weren't really the friendly type, not until you warmed up to people at least.

"Noticed yeh didn't 'ave lunch with yeh. Can't run on coffee and no food." Harry shrugged slightly. Like it wasn't a big deal that they somehow managed to notice you had no lunch with you that day. Your confusion grew more by the second. Maybe this was how people became friends? You weren't entirely sure.

"Love this song." Harry muttered before he plopped down on the love-seat in your trailer. His feet kicked up on the coffee table, obviously making himself at home in your space.

"It's a good one but nothing tops 'Dreams'." You said as you took a seat on one of your makeup chairs, Florence sat on the other side of Harry.

"You two have the same bad taste in music." She groaned as she fished out the first take out box from the bag she had in her hand. Your shocked gasp made her pause.

"How dare you say that about our Lord and Savior, Stevie Nicks. You should be ashamed of yourself." Your dramatic voice and Harry's laughter of agreement made her roll her eyes at you both. Quickly going back to unpacking the bag they brought for all three of you.

"Want us to turn on 'Wonderwall' for you?" You asked through a voice cracked with laughter. Her green eyes immediately snapped to yours, narrowing at you.

"Fuckin' hell, that was a good one." Harry mumbled out, his arm wrapped around her as he smiled widely at her fake pouting.

"See if I bring you lunch ever again." She mumbled under her breath. Finally done unloading the three take out boxes and all the utensils out of the bag.

You gave her a fake pout. Her eyes rolled when she handed you the box. You were too curious for your own good most of the time, right now though, you were scared to open this box and some weird ass Hollywood "lunch" would be staring back at you.

Harry's amused eyes kept meeting yours when you'd look up from your box to whatever the hell they were eating. Nothing but rabbit food and not the good kind either, whatever they were managing to shovel down their throats smelled like rotten eggs. You were trying your best to not be a whiny brat about getting free lunch when you heard Harry let out a chuckle from his side of the room. Florence immediately looked up to see you staring blankly at the box in front of you.

"Gonna open it up, kitten?" Harry asked with an infuriating smug smile on his lips. Your eyes rolled at the nickname but you couldn't deny it stirred something in you.

"We didn’t get you steamed kale." Florence giggled when the sigh of relief left you.

"Thank fuck. I thought I was going to have to gag that crap down." You smiled when you opened the box. A plate of harmless looking pasta sat in front of you. All the carbs and wonderful goodness in the world that you absolutely adored.

Leave the healthy shit for them, you thought.

"Wait!" She yelled from across the room, you jumped slightly at the loud sound making Harry laugh. "Got to try this first."

"No way. I'd rather eat the stinky kale then whatever's in this." You tried to push your hand away from the drink she was adamantly trying to hand you.

"Come on. Jus' fo' fun, yeah? Never 'ave to try anything new again with us if yeh don't like it." Harry said. Florence head snapped around to him quickly before looking back at you. A curt nod of her soft blonde curls told you she agreed with him.

You took the cup from her. Cautiously opening the lid to peak at the color of the drink. A bright green color stared back at you. Your nose scrunched up at the sight but the smell wasn't the worst, not compared to the steamed green leaves the other two were eating.

"Bottoms up. If I die, tell my parents I was forced to drink this." You mumbled out right before downing half the cup of cold green liquid. You hoped if you chugged it the way you did cheap beer when you were 19 would mean you wouldn't taste it much.

You were wrong but surprisingly you were thankfully you got a good taste because it was fucking delicious.

Your eyes brightened when you took the next sip. Slower this time to actually enjoy the drink.

"Told yeh she'd like it." Harry said with a smug smile across his face. The look of triumph directed toward Florence who pushed his shoulder with her own at his comment.

"Sod off, Harold."

"This is really good." You said in between drinks. A very prominent caffeine buzz started to hit you by the time you'd finished the last drop.

"Got more caffeine too." Harry smiled brightly. Florence rolled her eyes as she stabbed a piece of kale with her fork.

"Yeah, well, the pasta was my idea and I'm sure she'll love it." She grumbled like it was some sort of contest between them.

It didn’t take long for you to realize you actually liked hanging out with the both of them. They were able to keep up a conversation with ease, even whenever you didn't feel like talking they both could somehow sense it. They weren't draining to be around, which really surprised you.

The both of them could joke and tease. You and Florence ganged up on Harry. Harry and you on her. Florence and Harry on you. Nonstop teasing, jokes, and enough laughter you could feel your cheeks ache by the end of lunch.

You definitely could see yourself being genuine friends with both of them.

>>>

To say you three managed to get close fast was an understatement. You three practically became inseparable by the end of the first week of shooting. If all three of you weren't together at least two of you were and the other one wasn't far behind.

It quickly became a joke on set. People constantly had to find where the three of you had snuck off to. Which was usually to the food table that was set up for the actors but Harry insisted that it was for everyone, even though you knew it wasn't.

He didn't care though, he just wanted to make sure you actually ate for the day and not just down caffeinated drinks for a meal. Florence on the other hand, was more than willing to invite you to lunch every single day. Her pleas for you to join the two of them was impossible to turn down after a while.

You figured it was pointless anyways since they brought back food for you every time you said you weren't hungry. So today was the day you'd finally gave in to her cute pouting.

"This place looks like they have those really small dishes that cost more than my rent." You mumbled to Florence as you approached the building that looked like it had jumped out of a magazine.

"You'll love it!" She beamed brightly from beside you. You wanted to believe her, you really did, but you were more of a cheap bar food type of girl. In fact, the bar by your house now knew you by name whenever you walked through the door. Which was only slightly pathetic, but you didn't have many friends and you weren't that good at making new ones, so you weren't in any position to hurt her feelings by not liking this place.

Her hand slipped casually into yours as you neared closer to the building. Harry rounded the corner from parking his car right before you two crossed the street. His long legs stride easily over to you two, his arm around your shoulder.

That was another thing that had threw you a bit off guard at first. They both were so touchy. Your hair, your face, holding hands, hugging, hands resting on your thigh. One of them always had a hand on you any time they could. It was a little strange at first but you quickly realized this was just how they were with you.

And you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't enjoy it now.

"I can feel yeh bein' nervous from 'ere." Harry said so closely to your ear you could feel the soft touches of his lips against you.

Your breathing seemed to stop for a second before you swallowed the feeling and turned to him. Eyes wide as you glanced back to Florence, trying to tell him to shut up before she realized you didn't want to be eating French cuisine.

He chuckled, shaking his head before pulling you back to the table that was already set up for you guys.

This was fancy and you were so out of place. The small table in the corner tucked you guys away from everyone. The stark white linen over the table had you anxious from the moment you sat down. Who the fuck puts white on a table?! At least the dim lighting had your back. This way no one could see you choke on a snail as you faked your way through this lunch.

Florence hand rested on one of your legs, Harry's on the other, both of them deliberately choosing to ignore your anxious feet tapping on the floor.

"Sweetheart?" Harry called you out of your panic from looking at the menu that was in French. Screw your 14 year old self for taking 4 years of Spanish in high school. "I can order fo' yeah if you want."

"Oh, I think I'm gonna have the, um…" you paused, squinting at the menu of fancy font. "Langue de boeuf?"

"Okay, 'm not lettin' yeh eat tongue." Harry snickered when your nose scrunched up. Who in their right mind would ever want to eat that?

"Wait…" Florence said as she sat down her menu in front of her with her one free hand. Your eyes glinting over to see her looking so confused, yet so adorable with her scrunched brows pulled together. Her head tilted as she blinked a few times at you. "Do you- do you not like French food?"

"I've just… never had it before." You settled for a half-truth, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

"Your last name is François!" She said as her cheeks turned flaming red. Harry's snicker from beside you did nothing to help her embarrassment. Your hand quickly squeezed his, hard, under the table to tell him to stop.

"I'm adopted," You smiled widely at her surprised expression. It's not like she knew you were adopted and she really was being so sweet planning all this out, thinking you'd feel at home here. "And the only thing French about my dad is he knows how to say beget."

"God, I'm so sorry, if- if I'd known, I'd neve-"

"Flor, please," you smiled as you took her hands away from fiddling with her menu. "I never told you. It's not a big deal. Besides, now you two can order for me in your fancy French words."

You dismissed her worrying with a wave of your hand and a gently prod of the menu. If anything, this was the most heartwarmingly considerate thing anyone had ever done for you. At least she tried to include things with the three of you that you'd also like.

When the, equally nervous as you, waiter finally approached your table to take your drink orders you were glad those two were handling everything. It felt sort of like being spoiled and you'd take that any day of the week.

"I know you." The waiter, Grayson you learned from his name tag, said after a few awkward seconds of standing in front of the table. You were only half listening, assuming it was for either one of the obviously famous people sitting beside you. "Yeah! That's right you're Y/N Y/L/N-François!"

Your eyes widened, cheeks heated as you squirmed in your seat. Both Florence and Harry looking back and forth between you and your new fan.

"God, your makeup on insta is amazing. The special effects stuff is so good. Really, I'm a big fan." He gushed as you mumbled out a small thank you, your hand clutching the complementary cup of water in front of you like it was a life raft. "Here, you can have my insta handle. Maybe you can DM sometime."

His movements to start writing down his Instagram information came to a screeching halt when both Harry and Florence shot him glares. The tension grew thick between the three of them. Some sort of a weird show down as you tried to drink your water and ignore the awkwardness.

Maybe they didn't like their friends being bothered at lunch when they were with them? You weren't sure. In all honesty, this never happened to you but you could see why this would be annoying for them. They had to deal with it all the time.

This is what they'd do for any of their friends. Right?

The tension finally eased when the waiter left the table. Your cup finally placed back down on the white linen when you let out a sigh of relief. You weren't one for strangers and they both knew it. Maybe they were just telling that guy to screw off because of your nerves, yeah that was it.

The rest of the lunch went much better than you expected. Conversation between you three was never a problem but even the food was amazing.

The two of them had great taste.

"Come on. Gonna be late if we don't get out of here." Florence mumbled, her hand already in yours as she pulled you out of the seat. You didn't even have time to get a word out when Harry threw down an ungodly wad of money on the table.

"You didn't have to pay for me." You said when he caught up to you. His hand on your lower back as he guided you through the door.

"What kind of date would that be?" Florence said without thinking. Your confused eyes shooting to her briefly before looking at the horrified Harry. "Lunch date, meant lunch date, with friends."

"Oh," you said, still a bit confused but chugging through it so you didn't have any awkward conversations. "Still, thank you."

Harry's tensed shoulders relaxed when he gave you a nodd. His eyes shot daggers to Florence over your head as you three started walking.

"I'm sorry!" She mouthed silently to him. You were completely oblivious to the mimed conversation between the two as you walked in front of them.

>>>

"Lookin' sweet today, kitten." Harry's voice from behind you made you jump in your skin. Your hand over your chest like that would somehow stop your nerves.

"What's got you all dressed up?" Florence asked as they both stood in front of you on set.

Your hands fiddled with the tight black lace top you had on. It complemented your bust so well but it made you feel awkward and out of place, like everyone's eyes were on you. Plus the pants that hugged your ass tighter than cling wrap weren't helping with the shameless stares from people.

"Is- is it too much?" Your words stumbled over themselves as your face heated.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Yeh look gorgeous like always." A slight frown danced on his lips as he looked down towards you. He could tell something was up by your anxious movements. Your eyes flickering around the studio like you were constantly on the lookout for someone.

"Okay," you sighed, your hand running over your hair as you tried to calm yourself down. "You guys know the sound technician, James?"

Their faces solidified to stone at your words. Both of them rigid as they looked at you. Not a hint of emotion detectable in their expressions.

"He asked me out." You felt uneasy, unsure of the decision to go to lunch with him. You felt like you were going to die in a ball of nerves at any second. This was exactly why you didn't date.

Sure, you'd gone on a date here or there. Mostly when your very small friend group got tired of you third wheeling at all the couples activities. You'd then be set up with someone, it wouldn't work out because you were one shred away from being a nutcase, and that would be the end of it.

"You can't go out with him!" Florence said shrilly, her eyes widened as the words came out of her mouth.

"Why?" You asked, eyes glancing over to the guy in question.

"He uh- he uh," she stammered, her hand slapped Harry against his chest twice for him to answer for her.

"He sniffs people!" His words rushed out of his mouth. Your eyebrows scrunched together.

"What?" You asked, as Florence hand rubbed the temple of her head before shooting a deathly glance at Harry.

"Yeah, Harry, what?" She asked, obviously annoyed but you weren't sure why. It wasn't like she was about to go on a date with the guy.

"I saw him. He likes to, uhm, yeh know." Harry looked at the ground before his hands shoved into his pockets. "He sniffs peoples hair."

"Wow," your hopes of going on a date that didn't involve cheap beer and 25 cent chicken wings suddenly blew up into flames. "Well, thanks for telling me."

"It's okay, Y/N, we'll go out to lunch." Florence said softly, her hand in yours as she gidded you off the set.

"Thanks guys." You smiled softly, head rested against Harry's chest as you three walked.

>>>

"We've got to tell her." Florence spoke quietly as she snuggled into Harry's side. His duvet wrapped tightly around the both of them in his oversized bed.

"I don't know.." He glanced at the fallen face of his girlfriend. "This all could backfire and then she won't even want to be friends."

"But, things don't feel right. It's like she's our missing piece." Her bottom lip started to tremble, corners of her eyes held onto tears that she refused to let fall.

"I know, I feel it too." He sighed as he laid back on his pillow. Looking up at the ceiling. A large feeling grew in his stomach, despair. You didn't seem like the type who dated adventurously or tried different things in your life.

He wanted you. God, how they both wanted you. You, their missing piece. Your presence made the both of them feel that indescribable warmth of home in their chest. Your laugh, your smile, your terrible sense of humor, and the way you had no idea just how desirable you really were.

"One of us should make a move on her." Florence said, finally breaking the silence between the two of them.

"Think?"

"Think it'll be the only way to know for sure if she likes one of us or not."

>>>

That Friday morning started like all the other mornings since you'd been on this job. A new mystery cup of tea in your hands that Harry had brought for you that morning. Their makeup was done long ago but now they hid out in your trailer until some intern was forced to go and find them.

This had been your three's new morning routine for the past three weeks and surprisingly, you weren't bothered by having your quiet time interrupted by them. You were actually starting to look forward to these morning's.

"Do you want to come to dinner with us tonight?" Florence asked you from her spot on the love seat. Your head lifted from the trashy magazine you were mindlessly flipping through on the floor. You chuckled as you shook your head at her, turning back to the obvious lies written in ink.

"We won't make yeh eat anythin' weird, kitten." Harry smiled easily when he moved off the couch to sit by you. His arm around your shoulders when you looked up in disbelief.

"I could pick the place." You suggested a cheeky smug smirk across your face when they both looked like you'd asked them for a kidney. "See, I knew you two wanted to eat somewhere gross!"

"You always want tacos!" Florence groaned flinging herself against the now unoccupied side of the couch that Harry previously sat at. A pout on her face as she tried to get you to change your mind.

"I do not." You scoffed. Okay, maybe you did but still those two could use a real meal or two.

"What if we do food and a movie at mine?" Harry asked, interrupting yours and Florence's teasing back and forth.

"Yes!" She agreed eagerly, her bright eyes filled with excitement and you knew you couldn't say no even if you wanted to.

>>>

You had to admit, you were fucking nervous to go to Harry's house. The neighborhood your old Camero chugged through was definitely not like your neighborhood at all. It was all fancy houses, nice lawns, and security everywhere. You felt like you were a step away from breaking into the pentagon when you rolled up to the gate for the guard to let you in.

You stood anxiously on his front step. The 6 pack of Coors Light seemed like such a bad choice now. You mentally cursed yourself for being so stupid, how could you think someone who lived here would be okay with your cheap beer? You were four seconds away from faking a stomach ache and going home to your hole of an apartment when the door opened. Harry's smiling face with that cute little dimple popping out stared at you looking so out of place.

"Don't gotta be nervous, yeh know?" He asked when he took your hand in his, pulling you into the house.

"Well, you did say you two would bite." You crack a smile at his bark of a laugh. Nerves easily washing off you when you made it into his living room.

"Where's Flor?" You asked, eyebrows raised when you turned to him.

It wasn't that you minded being one-on-one with Harry. You two got along great but you figured the blonde would be here already, the two of them seemed inseparable.

"On her way." He shrugged, his ass hitting the seat of the couch, motioning for you to do the same.

"What're we going to watch?" You asked as you sat down beside him, his arm around you when sat back from placing the beer down on the floor.

"Anythin' yeh want." He said, his eyes trained on you as you wracked your brain for a film those two would watch with you without complaining.

"Only watch horror."

"No way, nope. Not watchin' a scary movie. Yeh'll never sleep." He joked, his arm tighter around you as he pulled you into his chest.

"Not sleeping here so it's not gonna be your problem." You poked back, your head leaning against him. God, he smelled amazing.

"Sure yeh are. Got beer with yeh, can't drive drunk, kitten." His fingers lifted your chin when he spoke to you. Your eyes meeting his briefly before they flickered to his lips.

Have they always looked that good? Or was the intoxicating scent of his cologne making you drunk on him?

You couldn't tell and honestly, you could care less what the reason was when his face seemed to inch closer to you. He was going to kiss you, you realized. Your breathing seem to halt in your throat when he was millimeters away from you. His nose pressed lightly to yours, setting your soul on fire.

Your stomach turned and flopped, that familiar chill of desire ran down your spine all the way to your core. Your hands wanted to grip onto him, kiss him with a passion when the doorbell rang.

You jumped in your skin. Your body jerked back from him. Your big round doe-eyes staring blankly into his face. He groaned, eyes squeezed shut, resting his forehead against yours.

"She's got the worst timin'." He muttered before getting up from the couch to answer the door. The breath you'd been holding in released when he left the room.

Did you really about kiss your friend? And not only was he a friend, he was a coworker. You groaned, hands covered your face as it burned in embarrassment. What the hell were you thinking? You knew better than to ever mix business and feelings, especially when it came to famous people.

Florence entering the room with her sweet smile put a stop to your insanely degrading thoughts. You'd simply just pretend this never happened. Push it to the back of your mind and forget it, yeah that would be the solution.

>>>

"Why do we gotta watch this scary shit?" Florence asked, her hands covering her eyes as Jason stalked through the forest after innocent teenagers.

"You've literally acted in horror movies." You smiled at her glare she shot at you. Her head laid on your shoulder as she whined loudly. Harry sat on the other side of her, his hand rested on her thigh.

You had no idea how to even begin to feel about that. An hour ago he was trying to kiss you and now he was rubbing her thigh. You didn't understand but refused to acknowledge the fact that the kiss almost even happened.

There was definitely tension between the three of you, awkward feelings floating in the air around his oversized living room. You tried your best to shove it down, to ignore whatever happened with you and Harry, especially since Florence was here and you had no idea what she would think.

"Let's take shots." She said as she flipped off the TV right as Jason's machete swung wildly through the air towards screaming teenagers.

"Trying to get us drunk?" Harry chuckled as he stood and walked to the kitchen. That smile on his face that could melt hearts.

"Duh. You two are being weird." She said as she eyed you up. Your face heating so much you swore you'd burst into flames. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just you know, stupid stuff." You waved your hand, dismissing her question. An unbelieving hum coming from her as Harry came back in with a bottle of tequila and shot glasses.

"Oh fuck," you groaned at the sight of the bottle, your old enemy that made you say the dumbest shit glared back at you.

"Gonna be able to keep up, kitty?" Harry asked as he sat down a full shot glass in front of you on his coffee table.

You wished you'd been the type of person who was smart enough to see a bad idea staring you in the face.

You were not that person.

The shot stung and burned your throat the whole way down your throat. The potent liquid turned your stomach into knots whenever it hit the acid there.

Maybe you'd regret this tomorrow morning but it'd make one hell of a story.

>>>

"Yeh never dated?" Harry asked, the upper half of his body swayed back and forth as he sat crossed legged on the floor of his living room.

"Nope." You answered back before shooting what had to be shot number 10 down your throat. The once burning drink now felt like water when it went down.

"Wait, are you a virgin?" Florence asked, her eyes wide as she stared at you. The serious look on her face made you bust out laughing.

"I'm not a virgin. I just don't date."

"But you're so pretty. Anyone would date you." Florence said, her hand brushing back the hair from your forehead that was beading alcohol induced sweat.

"Don't have the time. Always busy." You said with a sigh. Sure, you wanted to date but your working schedule made it impossible. You couldn't even have a cat you were so busy and you fucking loved cats.

"Ever date more than one person at the same time?" Harry asked when he looked up from his shot that sat in front of him. Testing the waters, he thought, if you said you'd never do that at least you'd be likely to not remember the next day.

"Nah." You shrugged, completely missing the look Florence shot Harry's way. A warning to not push the subject.

"Y'could." He suggested as the warm feeling of sleep started to surround your body. Your eyes feeling more and more heavy by the second.

"That means two people would actually have to like me." You gave a short laugh. Your eyes closing, head falling back to lay on the couch. You'd only rest them for a second, you thought.

"We like you." Florence said quietly from beside you. Her statement being answered with your soft snores.

"She's never gonna agree to it." Harry mumbled, the shot in front of him finally being thrown to the back of his throat.

"But-" Florence started, her hands running over your hair. "I don't know, Harry. I just like her so much. Things feel right when she's around."

"I know, sweetheart." He said as he stood from his spot. His arms encircled you, picking you up as Florence stood from her spot on the floor. The two of them and the passed out you made your way to his room. The big plush bed you would have loved was soft under your body. Your hands closed around the pillow under your head.

"I wanna keep her." Florence said as she laid down beside you. Her hand rested over yours as Harry climbed into bed on the other side of you.

"M'too but I think I scared her when I tried to kiss her." He said quietly, the both of them speaking in whispers over top of you.

Florence sighed, her lips pouting as she stared at your resting face. She knew weeks ago she liked you. Knew from the moment you laughed wholeheartedly at her terrible jokes that she wanted you. The same gleam bounced in Harry's eyes whenever he looked at you but you never noticed.

You never took any of their flirting seriously. Never paid a second thought to them asking you out or trying to take you to nice places.

It made a bit more sense to them now that they knew you never dated but how the hell could you not pick up on their shameless flirtation? Harry called you kitten for God's sake.

"Jus' gonna 'ave to be blunt." Harry said a while later. The both of them doing nothing else but listening to your soft snores.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow."

>>>

You woke up the next morning to a pounding in your head. Your eyes barely saw anything through the foggy vision of your sleepy eyes. You swallowed down that dry feeling in your throat - water, you needed water.

You groaned softly as you pushed yourself up from the bed that wasn't your own. You knew you'd end up crashing the night at Harry's but you didn't expect to end up in the same bed with him, with both of them.

You figured that was honestly better than you and Harry alone in the bed together, at least you know you didn't do anything with Florence laying next to you two.

You slipped out of bed, easily. The both of them didn't move a muscle as you snuck out of the house and towards your car. Maybe it was rude for you to run off like this but you needed to nurse your hangover at your own place.

You sighed, throwing your phone on your cluttered kitchen table when you finally made it home. The traffic was awful and of course everyone was laying on their horns like that would somehow help the long line of idle cars.

Your head was killing you when you sat in your shower. The water running over you was warm and much-needed. The hangover seemed to wash down the drain with your lavender soap.

You were calm, in your element, when frantic knocking at your door interrupted your shower. You cursed under your breath, cutting off the water quickly. Hoping it wasn't your elderly neighbor who always seemed to need help moving boxes on Saturday's.

"I'm coming, Ms. Thompson!" You yelled as the knocking grew more frantic. Your bathrobe tightly around you when you opened the door. The both of them looked like a mess of anxiety and worry.

"Uh, hi?" You said with the door barely opened enough for your head to stick out. Water dripping off you collected on the floor at your feet.

"Hi? Seriously?" Florence growled, her usually sweet and calm voice laced with irritation as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at you.

"Where's yeh phone? We thought you wondered off in the middle of the night or sumthin'. We were bloody worried, Y/N." Harry said as you opened the door for them to come in.

"It's dead." You gestured to the useless piece of technology sitting on your table. Harry hands ran over his face as he shook his head. Florence's lips pursed as they both looked anywhere but at you.

"Am I missing something?" You finally asked after what felt like hours. "'Cause I feel like I'm being scolded by my parents right now."

"You can't be serious. God, Y/N," Florence fumed in a way you'd never seen before. The confusion in your mind growing larger by the second. "What would we have done if something happened to you?

"Uhhh…" your eyebrows furrowed together as you looked towards Harry for help. You had no idea what the hell you did to make them so worried about you.

"Can yeh sit down?" Harry asked you, his head nodded in a gesture towards your couch. Anxiety crawled through your skin as you walked over to sit on your plain and basic couch.

Harry's hands smoothing down the front of his pants and Florence foot tapping like mad on your floors did nothing to calm your racing mind. All three of you sat in tension on your couch. You were sandwiched between the both of them. Their shoulders pressed tightly against yours and maybe if it was under different circumstances you'd enjoy the close contact.

"We like you." Florence blurted out into the silence of your living room.

Your widening eyes looked at her in complete disbelief until you burst with laughter. The snorting chuckling sounds died quickly when they both seemed to clam up.

"You're serious?" You asked, both of them seemed too nervous to answer at first. Harry's concerned filled eyes connecting with yours briefly before looking at the ground, his hands, his rings. Anywhere else.

"We do but we get if 's weird fo' yeh. We can just forget it if yeh want us to go back to bein' friends." He rushed out nervously as you let out a breath of air.

"I'm just surprised someone, who doesn't sniff people, likes me." You mumbled, hand pushing back your damp hair out of your face. Harry's snort of a laugh and a shake of his head had your eyebrows pulled together before Florence called your attention again with her nerve wrecked voice.

"I can't believe you didn't notice." Her hands fiddled together with nerves. "We kept asking you out."

"I'm a bit dense." You said with a short laugh.

"Whaddya say?" Harry asked as he took his hand in yours. Florence doing the same with the other. Flutters in your stomach blossomed at their touch. One hand, soft and silky like satin, the other, rough and calloused at the tips but smooth towards the palm.

You swallowed the nerves down. Your mind filled with so many doubts, so many thoughts all at the same time. Anxiousness mixed with excitement. It was new, different, and you had so many questions.

"How- how would this work?" You asked, both sets of eyes brightening at your words.

"How ever you want." Florence rushed out. The prospect of you actually considering this had her heart racing almost out of her chest. Really, she'd agree to anything you wanted as long as it included you three being exclusive.

"We… just date?" You asked, your brows furrowed as you stared at your hands. Your mind trying to turn out the logistics was going to drive you absolutely insane.

"Well, yes but y'know… the three of us." Harry gestured to the three of you.

"Won't someone get jealous?" You asked him, your head tilted to the side as you watched his lips purse in consideration.

"Guess if one of us gets jealous we gotta talk 'bout it. Work it out." He said, Florence nodding her head in agreement from beside you.

"And.." you started to get nervous about your next question, the one that had been blaring in your mind since this conversation started. "The sex?"

"Already tryin' to bed us, kitten?" Harry joked as Florence shot him a glare. Your face heated and eyes widened, maybe this was a bad idea, you were already about to die from embarrassment.

"Shut up." She whispered yelled from beside you like you wouldn't be able to hear it. Harry's eyes rolled in his head that smug smirk on his face.

"We don't have to talk about that for a while if you don't want to. We can figure it out later." Florence said softly from beside you. Her hand taking yours again, her thumb ran soothing circles against the back of it.

You shrugged, your lip between your teeth as you thought about what it'd be like to have both of them. A familiar heat worked up in the bottom of your stomach.

God, even just picturing it was getting you started. You could only imagine what it'd be like when it actually happened.

"The little minx." Harry laughed as he leaned up to look at you the thoughts you were thinking clearly wrote across your face. "Think she wants t'give it a try before settling on an answer, Flor."

"Hmm," she hummed from beside you, a smile cracked on her face as she brushed the damp hair off your shoulder. "Think she needs some more convincing?"

"Yeah, looks like it to me." Harry words floated over you, through the air above you. Your mind tried to desperately grab at the words, make sense of them, but it was useless. You were already gone at the mere prospect of the rest of the day's events.

"Can I kiss you?" Her word brought you down to earth but only barely.

Her plush lips made you forget how sentences form or words could be spoken in the English language when they hesitantly met yours. They were soft, not demanding to take control. She let you come to her. Let you set the pace that you were comfortable with.

Your hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her addictive gently touch harder into you. A heavenly sounded moan slid from her mouth when your tongue slipped its way in. You could have gotten lost in the way you moved so insync with each other when she pulled back.

Your deep breathing and closed eyes made her grin widely. Maybe you would be okay with this arrangement.

Harry's hand in yours again got your attention. Eyes snapped open to see the pretty blonde in front of you smiling smugly.

"Can I kiss yeh?" His thick accent somehow sounded richer in this moment. Your head turned to the other side to see his usually bright green eyes darken with lust. The sight of him like that could keep you satisfied for a month, maybe longer.

"Yes." You barely had the word out of your mouth when his lips pressed forcefully to yours. Demanding movements of his mouth led you in the kiss, determined hands grabbed your hips to lift you onto his lap. The sudden movement through you off balance. Your ass hitting his very prominent boner made you moan.

Holy shit, how the hell were you supposed to handle all of that?

You whimpered as he pulled you back from him. His hands running under the robe to your unclothed ass. His calloused fingers felt rough against your skin as he groaned, his head against the back of the couch as Florence moved over beside you two.

"We can stop 'ere." Harry said through gritted teeth when your hips moved over his, chasing the feeling of his retreating hands.

Florence hummed her agreement as you sat back fully on Harry's lap. Your mind ran circled around you. The last thing you were thinking right now was quitting this.

"I want to see you kiss." You said through your nerves both their wide eyes blinked up at you. Not thinking you'd be wanting to go any further.

Florence acted quickly, her hands on either one of Harry's cheeks as she pulled his lips to hers. The two of them were obviously familiar with the other. They'd been doing this for a while, you assumed.

Whatever worries you had about being jealous or not liking the three of you together all at one time quickly went out the window. They were fucking hot together. The sight of them wrestling for the lead sent a flood of arousal straight to your core. Your hips grinding against Harry's lap, desperate for any friction.

"Think we got her answer." Harry mumbled into Florence's mouth, a smile on his lips as she laughed. Your face heated as she faced you with that sweet smile.

"We better make sure she doesn't change her mind then."

>>>

It was an absolute mess of limbs as you three rushed to the bedroom. Lips against lips, tongues sliding against one another's to a point you weren't sure where Harry started and Florence ended.

"Gonna make yeh feel so good, princess." Harry's deep voice vibrated against you. His lips pressed tightly to your ear, turned upwards at the corners in a sinful smile. His hands gripped the back of your legs tighter, bringing them closer to God and you further and further away from ever having a front row ticket to the pearly gates.

If this was why you went to hell, it'd be fucking worth it.

Her teeth grazed the inside of your bare thighs. Just enough to get your attention back to her pretty head of blonde hair between your legs. Harry's head against your shoulder as he watched her work you into an absolute mess of whines and she hadn't even done anything yet.

"So sensitive, baby." She smiled against your skin. Her perfect white teeth biting a bit harder into you before sucking the flesh of your inner thigh into her mouth. Marking you as theirs.

You whimpered, head against Harry's shoulder as your fingers dug deep into his forearms that were holding your legs open for Florence. His throbbing erection leaking a river against your ass every time you squirmed in place.

Hot breath fanned against your core. Her dainty fingers ran through your exposed folds and maybe, if you had more shame, you would have held back the pornographic moan that came from you. But you couldn't help it, they'd been absolutely teasing you relentlessly. Wanting to see how you ticked.

"Please, fuck," your hoarse voice cracked as you looked down at her. She was laid on her stomach arms crossed in front of her as she shamelessly studied you. "Flor, please."

"We're getting there." She mumbled, her fingers stopped their movements, one finger slipped into your absolutely dripping pussy.

"Fuck." Harry breathed out as another moan fell from you. A subtle shift from his hips had another wet spot starting on your back.

"She's soaked, Harry." Florence held up her fingers that were doused in you up for him to inspect. A hum coming from him as he kissed against your neck that was littered with marks he'd left.

"Think y'can give us that answer now, pretty girl?" He smiled at your defiant 'humph', you were going to be so much fun to tease. "Come on, wanna hear y'say it. Then, yeh can get what y'want."

You debated it for a second, your pride or your relief.

"I wanna be your girlfriend." You mumbled through nerves. Never one to be vocal during sex wasn't going to be an option with them.

"Didn't hear yeh."

"Fuck," you groaned, face heating to blazing temperatures you didn't know existed outside of the sun. "I want to be your two's girlfriend!"

"No need to yell, baby." Florence said with a smug smile up to you.

"You both ca--" you started to tell them both to shove off when her tongue finally, finally, ran across your swollen clit.

You swore your eyes actually rolled back in your head.

"Told yeh we'd give yeh what you wanted." That smug smirk on his face as he watched you starting to fall apart.

Her tongue was flat and thick against your folds. Wild and untamed in it's adventures to find all the spots that made your toes curl. Her moans from your taste echoed through you.

"Holy shit," she breathed out, her mouth disconnected from you only briefly. Her thumb pressed on your clit, rubbing lightly. "Gotta taste her for yourself."

"Will after yeh finish. Don't wanna hog her all to m'self."

You felt like you were going to explode. Here there were, casually talking about you like you weren't even there. It was so fucking hot.

Her hands grasped onto Harry's thighs as her whole face practically buried itself into your core. You'd been eaten out before, but not like this.

Her tongue switched so effortlessly between slow, thick, long, strides to quick, tight, circles on your throbbing bundle of nerve endings. She seemed to be a step away from reading your mind. Two fingers pushing into you right when you needed them the most.

"Gonna cum, pup?" Harry grunted against your skin. His eyes never left the absolutely sinful scene in front of him. Kisses pressed against your neck, your shoulder, anywhere he could reach.

"Yes, fuck, oh-" your voice carried through your small apartment. So loud, so lustful, you didn't even recognize it was yours at first. Her fingers hitting that spot inside you so perfectly, your tightening walls couldn't take it anymore.

A release in a way you've never experienced before finally hit you. Your whole body shivered from the force of it. Eyes closed tightly, head against Harry's shoulder. It was so good it almost hurt.

When you finally started to surface from that hazy feeling of pure bliss you were being lowered onto the bed. Your legs that had been held open for so long ached and throbbed but it was so fucking worth it.

"Think y'can handle another one?" Harry smiled down to you as he hovered over the bed. Florence settling beside you, her hand over your hair to calm you down.

"Yeah." You barely breathed out, eyes connected with hers briefly. How the hell could someone look so sweet and adorable after wrecking you?

You hummed, head leaning up to give her a kiss. Lips connected with hers as you reached for Harry's hand. His cool rings relieved the burning hot skin of your hands as you pulled him to your guys level.

His lips replaced hers against yours. His hands taking time to explore the curves of your body, your chest. Fingers dancing against your budded nipples. Your overly sensitive body was aching for another release as you moaned into his smirking mouth. His hand kneading your flesh in brand new ways.

"Ass up, sweetheart." His cocky tone of voice had your heart beat picking right back up as you turned over onto your knees. You rested on your elbows, hand motioning for Florence to lay in front of you. Her eyes widened as she stared you down.

"Well, don't be shy." You smiled as she crawled over to you, her legs laid open on the bed as your arms wrapped around her thighs.

"Just, just, surprised this is happening." Her words stumbled out as your tongue started to explore her folds the way hers had done. Gently soft pressure against her core, hardly enough to taste her, teasing.

Payback for them taunting you in the beginning.

Her breathing caught in her throat, her elbows barely keeping her upright when you finally got a good taste of her and fuck, was she delicious. You moaned, hands dug into her thighs as your tongue slipped into her tight hole.

You could do this the rest of your fucking life.

Harry's distraction finally broke when Florence's eyes opened again. Green eyes meeting green eyes as her hand tugged your head down harder into her core. His tongue wet his lips before his hand traveled down between your legs, fuckin' hell you were soaking almost down to your knees.

He wanted to be gentle with you, soft, loving. Show you how much he liked you but when you shifted your ass back into him. Wiggling back and forth for him, he couldn't help himself. You little temptress. His hand landed firmly on your ass and what he didn't expect was the full fledged roar of a moan that came from you. His dick twitched from the sound.

"Fuck," your voice muffled by the her silky wet cunt. Her hand lifting your head up just enough to see your eyes as Harry started to slide into your velvet cave. His hand bruising your hip as he cursed under his breath.

"Feel good, H?" Florence wore that smug smile as his lust blown eyes met hers. His snappy comments and witty attitude put at bay by your contracting walls having a hard time keeping up with his girth.

"God, sweet girl, your pussy is fuckin' tight." He thrusted a bit further into your narrow opening, your hands dug deep into Florence's legs as you whimpered. Her hands ran over your hair as she shushed you.

"Oh my g--" you choked out as he finally settled fully in you. His hands pulled the round flesh of your ass back to see where you two were connected. He pulled out only a little just to push slowly back in. His head fall to his chest as your vortex sucked him back in. "Move, please, move."

Your hips only swayed slightly before he was pounding into you. You were thankfully you had a job in front of you to do or else you would have been reaching another orgasm in mere seconds. His length hitting that spot inside of you every single time.

You had to force yourself to concentrate, to not let your eyes roll back into your head whenever he pumped into you. Your tongue ran circles around her clit, your fingers slid into her easy. Nothing but moans filled your small apartment, your bed creaking from how hard he was thrusting into you.

You felt so sorry for your downstairs neighbors.

Her hand tightened in your hair as his hand tightened around your hip. You were pushed, pulled, tugged, manhandled, and holy fuck was it making your walls clench tighter. Your tongue was more determined than ever to make fast work of getting her off when you felt your fast approaching end over the horizon.

"Oh, oh," she moaned her hips bouncing down on your face as she fucked herself on your tongue and fingers.

"'M close." Harry grunted from behind you, his hand slapping down on your ass again.

You didn’t have the time or capacity to enjoy the stinging pain that went through your body. Tingling sensation all the way through your core when you felt the walls against your fingers start to contract. A wildly erotic moan came from her as Harry's hand reached around to rub fast pace circles on your clit.

Stars danced along your vision as your release hit you. Sloppy thrust of Harry's hips slowed down as a warmth filled you. Overrunning from your puffy, abused, pussy down your legs to the bedspread. Your body collapsed into the open arms of your now girlfriend as Harry leaned over your back.

"Why'd we wait so long to do that?" You asked once your mind cleared from the fog of your two orgasms. Laughs came from in front and behind you. Chaste kisses against whatever available skin was in their reach.

"We could always do it again, love."

#Harry Styles #Florence Pugh #Harry Styles x Reader #Florence Pugh x Reader #Harry Styles Fanfic #Florence Pugh Fanfic #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Florence Pugh Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction #W|W #Harry Styles x Florence Pugh #Writing #Mine #InTheMiddle #Harry Styles x You #Harry Styles x Y/N #Florence Pugh x You #Florence Pugh x Y/N

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onlydreamofmysoul · 3 years

Text

The Prince and The Pornstars

Chapter Four

Chapter four here we go! This chapter was weird because I knew exactly what I wanted for all the chapters after this one, but the issue was getting through this first! However then I had a brainwave and yay here we are!

Happy New Year my lovely, lovely people!!!

Credit for characters of course to the incomparable @lumosinlove

Finn

“I’m telling you June, I think I’m going crazy.”

June looked up at him skeptically over her coffee. “So you have a new job.”

“Yes.”’

“Working for pornstars.”

“Uh huh.”

“And you’re attracted to two of them.”

“So it would seem.”

“Who also happen to be a couple.”

“That would be correct.”

June tipped her head towards him. “I’ve gotta say Finn, when I said you needed to get out there, I did not see this coming.”

Finn nearly spat out a mouthful of his own caffeine hit. “It’s not like I did it on purpose!” He groaned, that aching feeling in his chest even more prominent now that he was actually acknowledging it. “And what am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can ask them out I mean for start that’s probably sexual harassment or something, like you know what I do for them.”

“So why not wait until you’re a proper makeup artist and you know, not doing that anymore.”

Finn bit his lip helplessly. “Because I want them now.” He groaned, dragging out the last word pathetically. “But it’s not like I could even be with them either way - they’re with each other!” He met June’s eyes. “And it’s not like they’re just messing around June, they’re properly in love. You should see the way they look at each other.”

“The way you want them to look at you?”

Finn flushed. “You know what? We’re moving on from me. How’s that girl you’ve been pining after for months? What’s her name again? Oh yes, Heather.” Finn teased, knowing exactly what her name was. He had heard about very little except the woman since she and June had met.

The little bell above the door chimed and Finn looked up out of habit, ever curious to the goings on in the world. June was saying something back to him, undoubtedly sarcastic, undoubtedly evasive, but Finn could no longer hear her. No, instead all he could focus on was the fact that Leo and Logan had just walked in.

He gripped June’s arm and she started at him confused but he still wasn’t looking at them. Leo had gone straight to the counter to order but Logan was looking around for a table and spotted them. Finn smiled weakly and June turned around to see what was going on.

Logan seemed frozen for a minute, but gathered himself and walked over. “Hey Finn.”

“Logan, hi.”

June’s eyebrows rose comically. “Logan, really? Interesting.” She turned to Logan and held out her hand. “I’m June, it’s lovely to meet you.”

Logan shook her hand, blinking. “Yeah, you too.”

Finn gestured to the empty chairs around them. “Do you wanna join us?”

Logan bit his lip, hesitant. “Are you sure? We wouldn’t want to disturb.”

June jumped in before Finn could say anything. “Of course not, grab a seat.”

Logan did so, sliding in next to them and Finn couldn’t help but laugh at Leo’s face when he finally arrived and realised who they had run into. Finn introduced him to June and they chatted for a bit, about everything and nothing at all.

“So, we go onto set and literally everyone except James is stark naked, right?” Leo was saying, in stitches laughing. “And James is like ‘wait, what’s going on?’ except no one ever acknowledges it, we just pretend nothing is happening.”

“All because he tried, and failed to prank you one time?” June asked, tears of laughter forming in her eyes.

Leo nodded earnestly, “We take these things very seriously.”

“Attends attends,” Logan added, still wheezing a little, “You’re forgetting the best part.”

“Oh my god, what’s the best part?”

“After lunch, James came back naked as the day he was born, and we had all put our clothes back on.”

The table broke into a fresh round of laughter, the patrons of the coffee shop looking at them disdainfully.

“Even Lily?” Finn asked.

“Oh, especially Lily.” Leo was saying. “They may be married, but he tried to trick her too. She was going to take him down.” They all chuckled again and June checked her phone as she finished her second round of coffee.

“I think we’d all better get going before we’re all late for work.”

They gathered up and Finn agreed to walk with Leo and Finn. June was going in the other direction so when they made it outside the door he kissed her on the cheek goodbye.

“Text me later, yeah?” She said, giving him a quick half-hug.

“Yeah of course, love you.”

“Love you too! Have a good day!”

“So… June seems great.” Leo hedged after they had walked a bit, keeping a relatively fast pace to ensure they made it on time.

“Oh yeah, she’s the best.” Finn agreed, and it was true, he and June had been best friends for years.

“We’re having a little party next week.” Logan said. “If you wanted to come? You could bring June too of course.”

Finn couldn’t help but feel a burst of confusion at the ‘of course’ but he figured that was for Future Finn to work out. For now, he had an invitation to accept.

“Yeah, I’d love to! I mean, I’ll have to check with June of course, but I’m in. Thanks guys.”

They arrived at their building, walking straight in. The guy at the desk greeted them hello, even knowing Finn’s name at this point. They walked through the lobby and in the double doors, waving to everyone they came across. Leo and Logan both went to their respective dressing rooms and Finn kept going until he reached the makeup department. For the first time since he’d been here, Celeste wasn’t there before him, so he set to work organising the stockroom a little until she arrived and told him what needs to go where. And then of course, what sets and with whom he’d be working with that day.

He organised peacefully for a minute before his mind inevitably went to the same place it seemed to always go nowadays. Which was to say he was most certainly not thinking about Leo and Logan.

Nope. Not at all.

Not one single bit.

(Okay maybe a little.)

(A little meaning a whole lot).

He sighed and tilted his head back, staring up at the fluorescent lights for a minute. It was like he had said to June - he was not going to do this. He was not going to start crushing on his co-workers. He was not going to start crushing on his co-workers who were in a committed relationship with each other.

Never mind the whole fact that Finn worked for them. He couldn’t just start liking them this way. It felt morally wrong.

(But it also felt so, so right. Emotions like this - they could make you believe in fate).

He came out of the stockroom to find Celeste bustling around in a hurry.

“Well, well, well,” Finn teased, “Look who finally decided to show up.”

“Désolée,” Celeste said, beginning to apologise before she turned around and realised Finn was only playing with her. “Oh you are wicked O’Hara. I could have you fired you know.”

“You could,” Finn mused, pushing himself off the door frame where he had been leaning. “But you won’t. Now, what do you need me to do?”

Finn headed down the corridor, delivering costumes, sniggering when he handed in James’ one, much to the other man’s confusion, then he continued making his rounds. He gave Logan and Noelle identical maid outfits (for different films of course. Leo wasn’t the only one Logan didn’t work with) and currently, neither of them were the wiser. Finn could have told them... But he figured it would be far more entertaining for them to figure out on their own.

It was going to be busy today; he was working with Logan first, then Leo and he would be going back and forth between the two sets as the other ‘rookie’, Ollie was out sick today. Everyone here had great fun with ‘O’Hara and ‘O. Halla’, the two fluffers. He went to Logan’s set, smiling at everyone before going directly to Logan, there would be no chit-chat today, it was straight to business as Finn was needed elsewhere. He was glad they had all been able to talk this morning instead, he would have missed his little updates on their lives.

“Back again, are we?” Logan teased, raising his eyebrow as he lay back on the futon that would be starring in today's filming. He untied his robe and tucked an arm underneath his head, looking at Finn through lowered lashes. Cocky.

Finn gave him a look that made sure Logan knew with no uncertainty that Finn was aware of his every movement, before looking him right in the eye as he took Logan’s cock in his hand. Logan gasped and Finn steadied his hips with his free hand as he stroked him quickly. One thing he would never not love about Logan was how incredibly responsive he was. Every single thing Finn did was reflected in some way. The stutter of his hips when he circled his thumb over the head. The intake of breath when Finn’s fingers would accidently brush that damned tattoo. The flash in those green eyes when Finn would bite his own lip.

Logan was hard and ready in no time and Finn rose, throwing him a playful wink before waltzing out of the room.

“He’s all yours, boys.” He called to the producers and laughed a little as he left the room. He had made a vow to himself before he went on set today - he would not fucking blush. It would seem that so far, he had succeeded.

Leo was always a little harder to judge than Logan, but Finn was learning quickly. He liked when Finn’s hand might slip lower and tease his balls. He wasn’t as affected by a little scrape of Finn’s nails. Finn was getting good though, he was learning their bodies, almost as well as he knew his own. Leo always almost came undone when Finn would twist his wrist, hand curled around his tip. Finn had to control himself when he made that discovery. That was what always did it for him too.

Sometimes at night, Finn's mind would slip to them. Then he would feel guilty and think about something else, anything else. Porn was ruined for him now, although he had to admit, it had never done all that much for him in the first place. He always ended up thinking about Leo and Logan again, but never from what he saw on set. No, Finn’s active imagination would slip to what they might be like by themselves, what they might be like with Finn. His orgasms would always come with the crashing reality that his dreams would never come to be.

“Me and Lo, it’s for us. It’s not something anyone else gets to see.”

Finn sighed and gritted his jaw as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to June.

Fancy going to a party next week?

Would this happen to be a pornstar party?

… Maybe

Yeah I’m in.

Oh, and Finn?

Yeah?

You’re so fucked.

Finn rested his head back on the wall behind him. Yeah, yeah he was.

#the prince and the pornstars #tpatp #the prince and the pornstars chapter 4 #coast to coast lumosinlove #lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #finn o'hara #Leo knut #logan tremblay #o'knutzy #celeste dumais #James Potter #Lily Evans #18+

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purekesseltrash · 3 years

Text

Chapter 12 of Bury Them Deep, the final chapter, is out!

Fave Excerpt:

Mezou jammed his hands inside of his coat pockets, unsure of what to say or even do besides grin like an idiot. Tokoyami came to a stop finally and stared at Mezou, mouth open as if he was about to speak. He gaped for a moment more before a distinctly annoyed look came across his features. “Fuck,” he hissed, “I had a whole speech that I was thinking up on the way here and suddenly I have found my mind to be a blank slate.”

Mezou laughed, unable to help himself, “I don’t need speeches.”

Tokoyami stepped forward to grab at Mezou’s coat, his grip firm and his face honest, “You deserve them. I fear I am an incurable romantic and this is simply how I function. But my words have fled like cowards and the only part of the speech that I can remember is this, but it is the important part. Let me take you on a date. A real one.”

“I’d like that,” Mezou said softly.

Fun Facts:

- Hand to god, I had not decided on names for all of Shouji’s siblings until I had to write them. Thank you, Japanese Name Generator. Though Makoto is another Sailor Moon reference. I also had not know that Shouji’s mom was where he got his artistic eye from, though I am glad for it.

- My favorite Hip song is ‘Lake Fever’ or ‘Scared’. I thought that the lyric in Lake Fever was ‘You whispered Courage’ for the longest time, legitimately until I checked the lyrics to write the pivotal fucking scene only to find out that no, it was ‘hurry’. It all worked out, thank GOD.

- IDK if anyone noticed, but I ship them as Tokoshouji, as opposed to Shoutoko. I like the idea of Tokoyami being one taking the initiative better and it seems to fit his character anyway. I don’t see this dynamic often and it drives me nuts because I could write an ESSAY on why it works so well. Idk.

- Not even gonna lie, the last Mic segment made me cry. It was like my final good bye to everyone reading, it’s personal. And it’s basically me peeking out there, as opposed to just Mic. For all of hockey’s shitty aspects, it’s the best game in the world. I love it and I want it to be good and I will do what I can to make it be good.

More stuff under the read more about my future plans with this universe:

- So I have written a chapter and a half of an Erasermic prequel, basically telling the story of what happened when Shouta retired and ended up drugged to the gills and numb to the world at Hizashi’s doorstep, despite the two of them not having seen each other in legitimately over 10 years.

- I also have a side story of Kirishima and Bakugou, both with an idea of how they got together as well as what happens to them when they get to the NHL. (Spoilers: Kirishima does not have a good time as the first out and gay NHLer. He basically gets buried in the minors despite being legitimately good. Eventually he finally quits hockey way too young. Bakugou meanwhile is a generational talent and is legit too good to bury in the minors. When Kirishima retires, Bakugou flies to Tokoyami and Shouji’s house, where Kirishima is licking his wounds, and is like ‘Marry me.’ Kirishima tells him that he’s only going to say yes if Bakugou proposes with a Cup ring and Bakugou is like ‘Bet’.

- I also have one in mind on Ojiro and Shinsou. They had an amicable breakup when they graduated, both understanding that the life of a hockey wife wasn’t gonna work for Ojiro. Ojiro went on to meet a super cool alt girl through the info sec community and they got married and had a daughter. They end up splitting up amicably when their daughter is around 7 and split custody without much of an issue. Ojiro works remotely and lives in what is basically a lake cabin up in northern Minnesota. He and Shinsou have kept in touch and when Shinsou finally retires, he comes to visit Ojiro. The fic would go over them meeting up again.

- And then, of course, there’s Shouji and Tokoyami.

They get their shitty apartment in Atlanta. Kenta helps them with the deposit and also goes with Shouji as he tries to find one. Shouji ends up getting taken on by Orca, a buddy of Loder’s who generally doesn’t take Midwestern farm boys on as apprentices but he makes an exception, despite the fact that his work very afro centric. Shouji is a nice guy though and a damned hard worker and has a good eye so Orca keeps him on for a long while. Shouji still ends up picking up a bunch of odd jobs here and there, mostly grunt work like putting up drywall, but it gets him and Tokoyami through the absolute agony that is legal school.

Tokoyami goes into intellectual property law. He knows how much work goes in to art and creative stuff and he wants to protect people like Shouji. He ends up making a pretty nice living and they’re able to pay off the credit card debt that they accumulated during Tokoyami going through law school. Shouji actually starts doing pretty well for himself too, mostly with his pottery but still with some sculpture. Eventually Tokoyami proposes that they move to Raleigh, both because it makes sense for both of them and their jobs and well... because they have a hockey team.

Shouji never gave up hockey. He had some years right after college where he did struggle to even look at his gear. He had told his parents that he was gay and not going to the NHL over the phone as they were planning to come to his graduation, because he just couldn’t take them wasting money when he knew that they would never want to talk to him again. Unfortunately, he was right. Kenta still came to his graduation though and had two bullhorns that he slammed the entire time that Shouji was accepting his diploma. He even brought Shouji his own pride flag and insisted on taking a picture with him holding it. He posted the picture on his facebook with a very bold pronouncement that he was very proud of the first Shouji to get a college degree and how anyone that had a problem with his little brother could take it up with Kenta. Still, Shouji went through some real mourning with the loss of his family and he took a small break.

But then he came back to it, once they started to get a little extra spending money. He found a beer league group in Atlanta and started to really get back into the game, researching ways to improve in his downtime. It got a little weird sometimes at the beer league games because sometimes Shouji would forget that he’d decided to wear eyeshadow or would forget that he had on entirely wrong undergarments but everyone accepts that goalies are weird so it was accepted. Eventually he ends up having people ask him to coach for their kids, which he is loathe to do until Tokoyami points out that it’s better than Shouji do it, as someone who knows how damaging expectations and pressure can be, than anyone else. So that becomes a little part time job of his.

Everything isn’t perfect for Shouji and Tokoyami. Nothing is perfect. Tokoyami is a borderline hoarder and Shouji can’t stand mess and that causes them to fight enough that they wisely seek counselling. But they’re happy. Tokoyami eases up on the goth stuff and accepts his accent a bit more, though he still dresses in dark colors, especially for court. Shouji actually gets to play around a little with the whole genderqueer thing and makes up for the time that he spent avoiding anything that would make him seem too gay. And they still work really well together, becoming the pair that everyone from college kind of groans at, because they’re so ridiculously in love, but also envies.

They get season tickets to the Carolina Hurricaines. You’ll see them with Tokoyami in a Devils jersey and Shouji with one of many from his massive collection. Tokoyami will make comments here and there during the game, showing that he does actually listen when Shouji talks about goalie stuff and they only ever miss a game for gallery openings or work events. Otherwise, they are there in their seats, holding hands and watching the game.

Feel free to ask me any questions! I’m more than happy to talk about this, if you couldn’t tell. (Also, I do have some half written smut so uh.... yeah.)

#btd #tokoshouji #shoutoko #shotoko #tokoshoji

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Note: Instead of posting a meta or a fic today, allow me to take a quick break from that because I think I really need to appreciate some people here and the fandom overall.

February 7, 2021.

Today, I turned 24 and my boyfriend surprised me with a gift I think I’ll be taking to heart for a very long time.

The story behind the gift was as precious (or even more precious) as the gift itself and I thought I’d share it since it turned out some content creators were involved in this gift and I very much want to express how much this gift has defined this day for me and will place my 24th birthday as one of those birthdays I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

Apparently, I had casually dropped both my tumblr and my ao3 account during one of our conversations and somewhere around November he had started looking through my bookmarks, my posts on tumblr and some of my interactions with people in the fandom.

I should have seen it coming. It had started with my boyfriend suddenly asking about my hyperfixation with Levihan.

Sav? Shipping? Sav? Binge reading ships and meta posts? Sav? Gushing about a fictional ship?

And I remember gushing about this with my seemingly uninterested boyfriend a long night after explaining what was oddly the most out of character thing for someone like me.

I was sharing with him my metas and hcs and maybe, I was dropping a few of my favorite quotes along the way and it turned out he was interested. Suddenly he was asking me about my favorite fics, my favorite scenes. Suddenly, he was rereading my favorite fics with me and a few times, he was quoting those same scenes. I did find out he was looking through my blog when I got a random message from a really sketchy tumblr telling me to open my facebook.

I suspected a few times that he could be planning something. December passed with nothing and eventually he stopped asking so I clocked that as a fevered dream or unnecessary assuming on my end and didn’t think too much of it after.

It turned out my boyfriend had messaged my favorite authors about their fics and he commissioned one of my favorite artists (if not my favorite) to draw a few photos and bound them into a Levihan Anthology

And it feels fucking amazing to receive something like this. To get Levihan which helped me through the worst of 2020, bound forever as a book I can just open up and read anytime. And I guess tearing up at receiving such a gift had me thinking of a lot of things at once (which were always at the back of mind) but I thought of sharing now.

The past year wasn’t easy. Actually. don’t think it’s an understatement to say this past year was dog shit. With the covid pandemic and all plans after that cancelled, I’m sure we can all agree we had our ups and downs.

I had a lot of my own plans completely thrown out the window for numerous reasons. I had plans of going to law school part time while building a career. And, I got a job right after college to make these plans come true. In September the law school I got accepted to (after working so damn hard the past year to get accepted) denied my appeal for night classes. I decided to drop my enrollment to focus on my career. A week later, my job laid me off.

And for once in my life, I wasn’t going anywhere. And I lived in a house where everyone was always doing something and as soon as I lost my job I was pressured to find another one. But as we all know, searching for a job during this pandemic isn’t easy. I was still reeling after having dropped my enrollment just to focus on my job only to lose that job the week after with no prior notice. Everyone around me was busy doing their own thing. I had no one to talk to and for a while, I was falling into this pit of depression.

My days consisted of me hiding under the covers of my bed in between the few interviews I would take day to day. Around that time, I decided to binge watch Attack on Titan as well

I was never one to get hyper fixated in ships. In fact, this was the first ship since Royai and Victuuri which I have been so passionate. And this is a whole new level of passion. I think this is the first time I’ve ever written so much in this small amount of time. It was slow going. Just like Levi and Hange’s relationship, my fixation with this ship was a slowburn.

Those days alone, I was reading fanfiction by the bundle, I was scrolling through the Levihan tag like a simp, leaving kudos in ao3 on a throwaway account and just scrolling through random people’s tumblr accounts.

What happened during the one month? And when I was alone, sad, lonely and stagnant with no one to talk to, when everyone around me was living their own lives, all I had alone in the bedroom was Levi and Hange’s stories to keep me company between interviews.

And the meta analyses and headcanons I had about their relationship were teaching me things. They were teaching me that life was never about how quickly you progress or how far you go. Maybe the real winners in life are the ones who can build good relationships, build relationships so mutually satisfying they keep each other growing and in those few moments reading, headcanoning ships, I did realize, maybe even as stagnant as I was at that moment, my life wasn’t dogshit.

No one’s life is dogshit for a few small bumps along the way. Sometimes it just is part of the process of growing, learning to get past the worse, learning to manage relationships. And maybe it’s these relationships which make life worth living. Maybe it’s these struggles depicted in these stories and the bounce back. Maybe it’s the love, the life, the emotions so carefully described and depicted in every single story which makes life, life.

With every single fic I read and every single fan art I scrolled through. Levihan was teaching my things about love, loss and life.

Sometimes, these fandoms are the things which can catch people before they fall too low into something. These works and stories authors and artists shared so generously were what pulled me out of this state and are what inspired me to explore this relationship for all the potential its worth and maybe share my own stories and headcanons which people may learn a thing or two from or maybe just find some comfort and hope in.

And these inspirations eventually evolved to writing. Writing 10,000 words in a day in between three interviews? I never was a writer but somehow, I found myself spending hours exploring the themes of love, loss and life with our favorite pairing

I didn’t start writing out of nowhere. I didn’t start making metas out of nowhere. I needed the right inspiration, the right content to get me into this point where I could continue writing, reading, meta-ing, appreciating, headcanoning and everything in between.

And I just wanted to express my gratefulness to every single person in the fandom who had made it possible for me to pull out of that blackhole. Fandoms are underrated and I believe there are so many lessons which can be learned from the right content and from the right people.

To the people who so willingly went along with my boyfriend’s little project:

@faerielleart I saved A LOT of your art and they’re sitting in my google photos under a folder called Levihan and maybe I did share a few of your photos (the cheeks one and the beast titan one and the les miserables) ones to my boyfriend unsolicited just to show him how beautiful Levihan can be. Thank you so much for these beautiful drawings.

@lizaloveslevihan You were one of the first people I talked with in this fandom and dreams really was one of those stories that fucked me up a little bit, had me make a few misses on the commute on the way home one day but maybe it did have me explore the angst genre a little more, maybe it did have me explore Levi’s character a little more.

@ariadneamare YELLOW. OH GOD. You know those letters? The ones which Hange left Levi at the end of the story? I ended up copying and pasting them and sending them to my boyfriend right after reading and I remember talking to him about this. We might be facing that same type of story in the future and I guess that ended up becoming a lot of foundation of our discussion and I guess, it’s just proof that there is so much to learn from fanfiction. There’s just so much to explore and fanfiction as a genre just does not get the credit it deserves.

@fanmoose12 I was exploring your works even before I started this tumblr up again. Maybe it was even your works which got me building my own headcanons from Levihan and writing from there. And I think I did leave a few anonymous messages telling you how I started exploring other genres because of your fics. Your works got my out of my dark place, it got me exploring a lot of other genres and for that I’m eternally grateful.

And somehow, my boyfriend picked that all up from late night discussions and one-on-one metas. Surprisingly, he wasn’t just playing along to humor his girlfriend. He was exploring the themes of love, life, loss and Levihan right along with me. (And got spoiled about Hange’s death along the way… Oops.)

And I am eternally grateful for that and I made sure to shower him with a lot of kisses after he kept me in the loop with what has been going on these past few months with his sudden interest in Levihan.

And this huge thank you goes out to all content creators (authors, artists, gif creators, shitposters alike). Sometimes you never know who’s thinking about your work, who’s shoehorning your works and quoting them to their best friends. Sometimes, you never will find out but your work had pulled someone out of a blackhole which they’ve been stuck in and sometimes you never know that your work has been that seemingly small thing that had taught them a lesson in love, life or relationships. Sometimes, that one work turned out to be an inspiration which got them writing and sharing their own stories or making their own drawings

And I guess, the point is, keep writing. Keep drawing. Keep sharing pouring your love, passion and emotions into works of art because you never really know whose heart you touched or whose life you changed.

I have a job now. I decided to push law school a few years back and maybe take the time to work on myself now and maybe spend the next months or maybe years writing metas and fanfictions. I was pulled out of my hole. I was inspired. I have my own stories to tell and I don’t think I would have been here if I hadn’t spent the last few months reading fic after fic, meta after meta, appreciating art after art,

So anyway, I just wanted to share some pics of my favortie fics, immortalized in one anthology, all organized by my boyfriend. And I think he made some great decisions with these.

(Bookbinding credits to @mayerwien)

#levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #lyf #life post

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featherfur · 3 years

Text

Museum Bonding

Characters: Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng

Warnings: Blood and arguing, Modern Au, Sometimes You Just Gotta Punch It Out

Words: 4.5k

Summary: Wei Wuxian wants his brother and fiancé to get along and decides to leave them alone at a museum. It works, but it takes a few punches and a near heart attack for Wei Wuxian. Apparently, punching fiancé's is a family tradition.

Read me on Ao3, Ko-Fi is on Sidebar

“Wei Wuxian you need to come get your fiancé this fucking instant.” Jiang Cheng’s voice hissed through the phone as Wuxian put it to his ear.

With a soft sigh, Wuxian grabbed a spoon and continued his stirring before he bothered to answer Jiang Cheng’s begging. Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan were supposed to be bonding while Wuxian helped Yanli finish cooking. He’d only been gone for two hours and apparently they were already at each other’s throats.

“Chengcheng, please, what did he do? You know you can’t treat him like me, he and his brother aren’t like us.” Wuxian hummed, thinking about the well-mannered Xichen fondly. They really were so much more lowkey in their arguments.

“I hate you, I hate you so much and I hate him… We’re… bonding and I don’t like it.” The way Jiang Cheng howled it into the phone, Wuxian would have thought he was being actively killed rather than just wandering around a museum.

Wuxian laughed so hard he dropped the spoon onto the floor and had to fall back against the counter. He tried to stifle it with a hand to his mouth but it did nothing to stop the flowing giggles.

In the other room Yanli gave him an alarmed look but that just made the giggles turn into wheezing. Even Jiang Cheng’s angry growling in his ear did absolutely nothing to help cut off the endless stream. He tried his best, he really did, but this was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard out of his brother and he would remember this for years.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s voice came through the phone, sounding almost as distressed as Jiang Cheng and the laughter only increased.

“Wa-wait…” He wheezed, fumbling around for the spoon and taking the second to grab a clean one to suck in a few breaths. They sounded so upset at getting along, what was Wuxian supposed to do?

“Okay, okay, I’m… I’m back.” Wuxian still snickered to himself as he started stirring again at Yanli’s pointed look. Pregnant and missing her husband was not leading to a happy Yanli and Wuxian did not want to be the one at the bad end of her disappointed face.

“Can I please come stay with you?” Lan Zhan said, and if it was anyone else Wuxian would have said it was a whine but of course his amazing Lan Zhan would never.

Suppressing another round of laughter, Wuxian shook his head and smiled at the pan instead. Was it cheesy of him to still be so excited and fuzzy-feeling whenever Lan Zhan said anything about being with him? Yes. Would Wuxian ever stop? Nope.

“Lan Zhan.” Wuxian finally said, trying his best to use a stern tone that definitely wasn’t working. “Jiang Cheng, you two are supposed to be bonding. Why is that so bad?”

The phone scratched and made a shuffling noise before Jiang Cheng’s voice came back.

“Did you know your fiancé loves art history?”

Wei Wuxian nodded to himself, wondering why that was a big deal. Was Jiang Cheng just grumpy that Lan Zhan knew more about the paintings? Or maybe Lan Zhan had corrected the guide, that had happened the last time they’d gone together.

“Xichen is a well known artist, I’d be more confused if Lan Zhan wasn’t interested in it-”

“Did you know that your brother loves art history?” Lan Zhan’s voice cut in and that was news to Wuxian.

“Uh, no? Jiang Cheng hates it, he failed three art classes in college. Had to get a job and everything to pay for them because his mother wouldn’t pay for them.”

“I didn’t-” Jiang Cheng’s voice cut off and Wuxian just knew his fiancé was giving Jiang Cheng a glare of absolute loathing for daring to lie even if it was to get along with Lan Zhan. “Wuxian, I did not fail three classes.”

Jiang Cheng’s voice dropped into the lowest hiss as if someone was going to crawl out of the walls with his mother to yell at him again. It had not been a good two years and even Jin Zixuan had been trying to offer Jiang Cheng money to just take a different elective so he could pass. Jiang Cheng, like usual, had been too damn stubborn to admit defeat and had just re-taken the same classes even when his parents had cut the college fund.

Wei Wuxian understood not wanting to admit to that, especially when the Jiang name held prestige in the fashion industry, and if it was anyone else then Wuxian would be happy to lie. Not to Lan Zhan though, never to Lan Zhan.

Wuxian opened his mouth to inform him of just that, when Jiang Cheng cut him off with an embarrassed confession.

“Tell your perfect fiancé to stop looking at me like that… I didn’t fail the classes, I didn’t want to graduate yet and have to go into the business so I lied and said I failed them. No one looked at my transcripts, I took a different class each time, I didn’t realize you actually believed that bullshit.” Jiang Cheng confessed sullenly and Wuxian wished he was standing beside him so he could kick his ass.

“You what?” Wuxian howled at the phone, dropping it onto the counter and pressing the speaker when Yanli ran into the room in a panic. “You tell Yanli-jie what you just said right now.”

“No wait- She’s going to be ups-”

“A-Cheng.”

“Fuck.” The phone went silent and Wei Wuxian wondered what silent conversation Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng were glaring out. If it wasn’t for the fact that Yanli was now in this, he would be driving over there just to watch it go down.

“Okay… fucking… You remember when Mom kicked you out? You left and you said ‘don’t be a pushover when I can’t protect you’.” Jiang Cheng started and Wei Wuxian wailed dramatically, smacking himself in the face.

“I meant don’t let Jin Zixun talk shit, I didn’t mean… Lan Zhan, smack him for me! Twice!” There was a moment of almost audible mutual glaring. “Jiang Cheng, oh my god, oh my god. This is why she hated me, I turned you into a disgrace.”

“Shut up, I have two Master’s degrees from it even Jin Zixuan only has one.” Jiang Cheng shouted back before shuffling came over the phone and Wuxian realized Lan Zhan was probably shoving him out of the quiet museum.

“Enough yelling,” Yanli sighed softly, “A-Cheng, what are you talking about?”

It took a moment but finally Jiang Cheng’s voice came through at a much softer tone.

“I… wanted to get back at Mom for kicking Wuxian out, and I wanted to major in Art history anyways. Dad said that I had to go into business to take over Lotus, the only difference for the degrees were three classes so I just… Did both of them. Told Mom I’d failed to make a point, I’m perfectly fine at fucking up my life without Wuxian in it. Wait, why am I even having this conversation?”

“That backfired real fucking quick didn’t it.” Wuxian growled, he could see Jiang Cheng’s wince and the stubborn set to his shoulders.

How could his little brother be so stupid? He could have just done classes on the side, there was no need to get back at his parents. Wei Wuxian never held that against them, never! If he’d known it was all a stupid childish grudge that caused Jiang Cheng to get kicked out of the house for two years, he would have dragged him back and apologized himself.

“Shut up, I loved those classes! The only part of college that was fucking worth it. Don’t give me that look Lan Wangji, not all of us get to do what we want with our lives.”

“I did not give you a look-”

“You did, it’s the same fucking look you give me every time you see me. Like you have no fucking clue how your perfect precious Wei Ying came to be so amazing with me as a brother, like you’re disgusted with having to see me exist or fuck up-”

“I have not once-“

“Hey hey! You two stop it, both of you now. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, can you please walk away for me?” Wuxian barked into the phone, trying to be louder than their arguing but he had no idea if either of them even remembered that he was still there.

“-give a fuck if you hate me, you’re-”

“I have never said that I-”

“He’s my fucking family and I-”

“Wei Ying is-”

“Lan Zhan! Jiang Cheng! Come on you two please stop fighting, guys I swear I will cry.” He tried again but the growling didn’t stop for even a second.

“-I don’t care! Who do think gives a damn about you-”

The call ended with a rather concerning cracking and Wuxian’s head fell directly into the cupboard. Even the pain wasn’t enough to get him to actually concentrate, what just happened?

One moment they’re getting along, and apparently bonding to the point that both of them were actually worried and now they’re screaming at each other because of a lie that wasn’t even involving Lan Zhan! A lie that was completely and utterly Wuxian’s fault for pissing off Yu Ziyuan and somehow convincing his brother to go insane by trying to tell him to not let Jin Zixun kick him around.

“Jie…” He turned to her, eyes wide and hopeful. She would be able to tell him what to do or atleast what was going on. Right?

Even Yanli looked completely taken aback, her mouth moving soundlessly. They stared at each other, both trying to figure out how to fix this.

Atleast when Wuxian had punched Jin Zixuan he’d been fourteen, not twenty eight and in public. Was this going to be a tradition? Was Yanli going to sock Jiang Cheng’s future spouse?

The front door creaked open with a soft call from Jin Zixuan and they both snapped back to themselves.

“A-Xuan, I need you to drive A-Ying to the museum. I have to keep the food from burning.” Yanli said immediately, grabbing the spoon to stir before things started to burn. Jin Zixuan’s face came around the corner looking rather like a kicked puppy at the lack of greeting.

If it wasn’t a matter of life and death, Wuxian might have actually thought it was cute. But it was so he didn’t care and simply grabbed his arm to drag him out. Yanli was too far along in her pregnancy to be running after the two so Wuxian didn’t mind going alone anyways.

“Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan got into a fight,” Wuxian finally explained as he shoved his feet into his shoes. That got Zixuan’s attention and he picked his keys up again and let himself be pulled out after a quick declaration of love towards Yanli’s stirring form.

“A fight? I mean Jiang Cheng I understand, but Wangji?” Jin Zixuan looked even more bewildered than Wuxian felt, but that didn’t stop him from freezing until he’d scowled Jin Zixuan into a mumbled apology.

“Just… Just get us there and we’ll explain everything over dinner.”

Wuxian tried to call Lan Zhan the moment he was in the car, tapping his feet anxiously against the bottom of the floor. For once, Zixuan didn’t bother to complain about it and just drove a little faster when the phone reached voicemail.

“Are you sure it was a fight? Don’t give me that look! Wanyin has a temper but he doesn’t just attack people… That aren’t you.” Zixuan amended and Wuxian hid his face behind his hands with a loud groan.

That was true, Jiang Cheng had a temper but he’d also been running Lotus LLC. for years and knew how to keep himself calm. Which meant that either Lan Zhan had said something truly unforgivable (for Jiang Cheng atleast) or Lan Zhan threw the first punch.

Wuxian couldn’t even say that it was impossible, Lan Zhan was more than a little overprotective of him. If Jiang Cheng said the wrong thing or it sounded like the wrong thing…

“Oh my god I’ve ruined my family a second time.” He said desperately, wanting nothing more than to just be home, preferably in the arms of his fiancé.

“Hey, hey, if something happens it’ll blow over eventually.” Zixuan said awkwardly before a very hesitant and flat hand patted Wuxian’s head. “Right? Family no matter what, even if you break someone’s nose, I said that before right? Remember you hated me and now you don’t.”

“Oh god Jiang Cheng’s going to break Lan Zhan’s nose and he’s going to hate the rest of my family.” Wuxian cried, pressing his hands firmer against his face so he didn’t actually start sobbing. If he was the reason why the love of his life hated his family then Wuxian would never be able to forgive himself or feel like he deserved to look at any of them.

“No- I… No you don’t hate me, and I don’t hate you and I’m making this worse.” Zixuan cursed tried to squeeze Wuxian’s shoulder comfortingly before he focused on the road, trying to figure out when he started actually caring about Wuxian and his partner.

Dark hair took up most of Jiang Wanyin’s vision as he blinked rapidly, the tears still pricking at his eyes. He tried to sniff but agony just shot up his nose instead and he groaned angrily.

“How bad is it?”

Lan Wangji’s hum did nothing to assuage his fears but a second later pale eyes met Jiang Wanyin’s and the man nodded.

“It’s not broken.” Lan Wangji finally said, carefully pressing a few more napkins onto the bloody mess. Jiang Wanyin swatted his hand away and moved to hold it himself, tilting his head to follow Lan Wangji’s movements to the bench beside him.

“You,” Jiang Wanyin started with a bump to Lan Wangji’s shoulder, “have a hard fucking head. Welcome to the family.”

Lan Wangji bristled like an angry bird before he blinked and realized that Jiang Wanyin was grinning at him. He was trying to be friendly.

Lan Wangji quietly reminded himself to tell Xichen just how much he appreciated having a mentally sane brother.

“I’m sorry I broke your phone.” Wangji finally said, looking down at the shattered screen in Jiang Wanyin’s hand.

“Don’t worry about it, I broke yours too when you fell on it… Wuxian’s going to have a heart attack though.”

Lan Wangji winced at the reminder, Wei Ying was incredibly attached to both of them and the last thing he’d heard was Lan Wangji headbutting his brother. Then he winced again at pain rocketing across his face, and reached up to tenderly press against the freshly bruised skin on his eye.

“Oh, right, lemme see.” Jiang Wanyin didn’t bother to wait for permission, just reached over to turn Lan Wangji’s face over.

It took every ounce of Lan Wangji’s patience not to headbutt him again, but after taking a punch to the face it really wasn’t worth it. Besides, if Wei Ying came over while Wangji was fighting his brother it would make things that much worse. He could barely fathom that not even fifteen minutes ago he and Jiang Wanyin had actually started to like each other and now they were both bruised and bloody.

“I didn’t hit hard enough to worry about cracking your skull, so you probably don’t need an X-ray, but if it stays a sharp pain I’d go in anyways, or if you can't move your eye.” Jiang Wanyin said knowledgeably, Lan Wangji wondered how he knew so much but at the same time he didn’t really care about that right now.

“Are you saying that you pulled your punch?” Lan Wangji said blankly. That punch had hurt, and Jiang Wanyin had pulled it?

“Of course I did, If I didn’t you’d be on your way to the hospital with a broken nose and a cracked eye. I grew up with Wuxian, do you really think we never got into scuffles? Got to the point, Dad signed us up for classes so we’d punch other people instead… Never stopped us though.” Jiang Wanyin said fondly, dabbing at the still bleeding nose and leaning back into the bench now that his examination was over.

“Why would you fight your brother?” Lan Wangji was aghast, of course Wei Ying had told him about some of the fights he’d gotten into when he was younger, but he’d never realized how physical he meant. He couldn’t even imagine punching Xichen, or, heaven forbid, Xichen punching him.

“Why wouldn’t I? Oh right, you were raised properly.” It didn’t sound sarcastic so Lan Wangji didn’t react. “Sometimes you just get pissed off and you have nothing else to do but to tackle your idiot brother until Jiejie comes over to help. Don’t look at me like that, Wuxian broke my arm, twice. And the second time wasn’t even my fault.”

Jiang Wanyin’s head turned toward him with an almost evil mirth.

“You got grown-up Wei Ying, I got feral Wei Wuxian. Do you know how many times that little shit would pick fights then bolt back to hide behind me when he realized he was out-sized or out-numbered? Another reason we had to take defence classes, even if we were outnumbered, if we had each other’s back we weren’t going down easy. This way we stopped coming home bloody.”

Again Lan Wangji didn’t say anything, just sat quietly and watched the park in front of them as he thought. Wei Ying had told him multiple times that Jiang Wanyin wasn’t like Xichen, they communicated differently. Lan Wangji had assumed that meant that he was probably more like Nie Mingjue but atleast Nie Mingjue could compliment Nie Huaisang to his face instead of half hearted insults.

Wei Ying said they were bonding, and they had nothing to do until Wei Ying arrived so perhaps…

“You said… You lied for him?” Wangji finally asked, wondering if it counted as an attempt at friendliness.

The laughter drained from Jiang Wanyin’s face immediately and his lip curled slightly like he wanted nothing more than to bare his teeth. If he was looking for another fight Wangji wouldn’t give in a second time, that would only hurt Wei Ying more. Yet Jiang Wanyin’s voice was soft and strained like he was forcing himself to speak and it was painful.

“Mom kicked him out after a fight with Dad. She wasn’t really mad at Wuxian but she couldn’t do anything against Dad but she knew kicking him out would hurt him. Jiejie was already living with her husband and I was off to college so she couldn’t actually do anything but yell over the phone. So when the opportunity to rub it in her face that Wuxian was the reason I was so good in classes showed up, I took it. Wanted to hurt her for hurting him.” Jiang Wanyin’s face slipped into a mask of guilt and shame, even two years out of college and the full owner of Lotus he still couldn’t believe he’d been so shitty to his mother. She’d only wanted the best for him but he wanted his family together and when one went missing he cracked the connections to the rest of them. In the end Yanli was the only one he talked to all those long years of college until the beginning of his last semester when Wuxian returned.

“Your parents cut you off?”

“Of course they did, wasn’t Mom though. She thought I was sick or just rebelling, which I was, but Dad was pissed. Still surprised he even remembered I existed once I left the house.”

“You paid for college yourself?”

“Eh? No, I got a scholarship in the first place, parents paid for my business administration degree and the school paid for my art history degree. Do you think I’d be so good at design if I couldn’t pass an art class? The extra scholarship meant I needed another year and a half of school unless I wanted to stuff it all in at the same time. Kept me out of the house long enough for that idiot to come back… Otherwise I probably wouldn’t have gone.”

Lan Wangji couldn’t stop himself from frowning as he looked at the man avoiding his gaze. He really couldn’t get a read on him, which in itself wasn’t that strange he didn’t get most people, but Jiang Wanyin had literally just told him something even Wei Ying didn’t know and Wangji still didn’t know what was going on with him.

He wanted to put Jiang Wanyin firmly in the ‘I only accept they exist when Wei Ying asks me too’ but he couldn’t help but remember the hour and a half prior when they’d been debating painting styles from the 18th century, it had been almost as much fun as speaking with Xichen over painting archetypes. Now he also knew that Jiang Wanyin hadn’t wanted Wei Ying to leave and waited for him to return to the family. As much as Wangji wanted to hate him for all the arguments between the brothers and for not fighting his mother to keep a roof over Wei Ying’s head, he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel it.

“... I..” Wangji started, mentally chanting ‘this is for Wei Ying’, “I do not hate you.”

“Oh that’s a relief.” Jiang Wanyin said sarcastically but he didn’t glare so Wangji took that as a good sign.

“Earlier… When you said no one cares about Wei Ying and I-”

“I meant the gay thing, Wuxian’s always so touchy about it like I didn’t have to share a room with him for thirteen years and hear him when he saw Nie Mingjue for the first time. I thought you were arguing about that.” Jiang Wanyin said so flippantly that Lan Wangji actually felt bad for head butting him.

“Wei Ying is not a disgrace to you or anyone else.”

“I don’t care about that. Who gives a damn about you and him?”

As Wei Ying would say: Oops.

“I see how fighting works now.” Wangji said with a nod to himself. After throwing a few punches, they were both now too tired to argue in the same way and could only listen and communicate. That made a lot of sense even if Wangji would prefer that Wei Ying never need to throw a punch ever again.

Jiang Wanyin gave him a wide eyed look before he barked out a laugh and shook his head as he stood.

“Uh Huh. Sure you do, atleast you and Zixuan will have something to bond over. Wuxian really did break his nose when we were fourteen.” Jiang Wanyin was still smiling at that and Lan Wangji realized he would never understand anyone in his husband’s family. Not really.

“... Xichen has a painting that was recently added to this museum’s collection.” Wangji said, wondering if the olive branch would be taken. They’d started arguing and debating on every painting and hadn’t even managed to get halfway through the actual museum before they’d both had the panicked realization they had started to like each other.

Jiang Cheng gave him a narrowed eye glare before he tossed the bloody napkins away and shrugged.

“Let’s go see it, who knows when Wuxian’ll show up.”

Half an hour was how long it took and Wuxian nearly screamed when he saw them.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, your face! Jiang Cheng, how could you- Chengcheng your face?!” Wuxian had gasped, holding onto Lan Wangji’s jacket and looking more horrified then the time he’d watched a documentary where the fox ate a rabbit. “You two! How could you- I cannot believe you two- Why are you both looking at me like that?”

Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji shared an amused glance, keeping quiet over Wuxian’s admonishing. Jiang Cheng passed over the drink he’d been holding to Wuxian’s hands and successfully distracted him from his staring.

“Your fiancé has good taste in coffee.” Was all Jiang Cheng said, walking toward Jin Zixuan instead and leaving the dramatics for the one who signed up for it.

“Your brother has rather interesting ideas on color theory.” Lan Wangji said to Wuxian, his lips only twitching into a more fond smile at the hand waving and bewildered look on his fiancé’s face. “We have bonded.”

“You… broke each other’s faces.” Wuxian cried, holding the drink in one hand so the other could cradle Wangji’s cheek and gently stroke over the unbruised skin. “I’m so so so sorry, Lan Zhan, I didn’t realize he’d punch you or I never would have left-”

“There’s no need for apologies,” Lan Wangji said pointedly, gently reaching up to take Wuxian’s hands and press a kiss to the fingertips, “besides, I hit first. It was a misunderstanding. It has been cleared up. I believed him to be looking down on you, he believed me to be ashamed of my relationship with another man.”

“You two.. You two are never allowed to bond again. If I wanted you to punch each other I would have sent you to Huaisang’s brother’s gym to box it out.” Despite his words, Wuxian had relaxed considerably and spared a glance over his shoulder towards his brother. “So… You don’t hate him?”

“No. I do not understand him, but I know he cares about you. That’s all I need to know.” Wangji said with another kiss to his fingertips.

“That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard… Well other than when you confessed, and when you proposed, and when you say my name and-”

Wangji shook his head, shutting him up with a kiss that Wuxian was more than happy to reciprocate.

Jiang Cheng glanced at their disgusting affection and then the very awkward looking Jin Zixuan.

“... Go ahead.” He finally said with a suffering sigh. In seconds, Jin Zixuan was in his face, carefully checking his nose. The moment they’d found out that Yanli was pregnant Zixuan had devoted himself to all forms of emergency medical training just in case anything happened to their baby. In doing that, though, had somehow unlocked his need to use that towards anyone he considered family.

“Okay it’s not broken, and Lan Wangji… I’m sure Wuxian has that handled.” Jin Zixuan said after glancing at the couple and Jiang Cheng really couldn’t blame him.

“Why are you here anyways?”

“A-Li yelled at me to drive Wei Wuxian here.” He said pathetically, like there couldn’t be anything worse in the world than Yanli yelling at him. And he was right.

“Hmm, we should probably call her and tell her that we’re not dead. I broke my phone and Lan Wangji’s.” Jiang Cheng said, holding out his hand for Jin Zixuan’s phone. Jin Zixuan looked like he didn’t trust him but a moment later he gave in and passed it over.

“Uh… I hope you two are getting along now.” Jin Zixuan said, trying for an awkward smile. “I’m glad my family is getting along.”

“You’re not good at this.” Jiang Cheng said bluntly and Jin Zixuan shook his head rapidly.

“No I’m not. Please call A-Li, the stress isn’t good for the baby, and I mean all three of us.”

“God, I hope I die alone.” Jiang Cheng sighed as he clicked on the contact and started to herd Jin Zixuan out of the gallery before the two behind them started getting handsy.

#Jiang cheng #Wangxian #The untamed #mdzs #Lan Wangji #Lan Zhan #Wei Wuxian #Wei Ying #Jiang Wanyin #MDZS Fanfic

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meyeselph · 3 years

Text

Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst

Showtime

Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.

Who even reads comics anymore?

Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.

She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?

Oh, you can’t?

Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.

So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?

So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?

Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.

Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!

“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”

“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.

“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..

“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”

Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”

Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother’s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”

Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”

Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”

Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?

Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”

“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.

“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”

Scared of Girls

On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.

“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”

Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.

“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.

“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.

“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.

“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.

“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”

“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”

“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.

Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.

“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.

“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”

“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.

“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”

“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.

Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.

“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”

Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.

“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.

“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.

“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”

“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!

Gold Guns Girls

As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.

“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”

“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.

“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”

“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.

“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.

“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.

“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”

“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.

Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”

Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”

BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”

“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.

“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.

“You aren’t real, Gwen.”

Head Like a Haunted House

“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.

“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”

Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”

One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.

For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.

Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.

Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.

Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.

But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.

…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.

“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:

Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”

Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.

“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”

“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”

“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.

“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’

“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.

“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”

“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”

Never there

“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.

“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.

“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.

“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.

“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.

“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!

“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”

Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.

You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”

“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.

“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”

Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.

“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.

“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”

“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.

“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.

“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”

When I Get To The Green Building

Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.

“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”

“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”

“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”

“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”

“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”

“Uhm...I don't follow.”

“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”

“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.

“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!

“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”

“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”

“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.

Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.

Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.

It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..

But I finally finished my fanfic.

See ya, true believers.

#gwenpool #fanfic #deconstruction #outofloveiswear #fortheoriginalwritersnotmarvelordisney #tw mental health #tw mentions of suicide #tw mentions of drug abuse #tw violence #tw gun violence

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