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gojology · 4 years

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Lovebirds.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | omg this is my first request. ilysm anon, im now feelin super cool. also, i just realized i put recc (as in recommended) instead of requests. i’m super stupid LOL. anyways, im touch starved too dw bby, i’m servin u up a long one since i rlly like this request and after all u r my first! 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Wife! Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏�� | 2307 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | None! 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Coming home from a long mission in America, precisely 1 year, you’re excited to catch up on Gojo’s students, Nanami, and just Gojo in general. Leaning out of the car window, resting your arm against your purse, you sighed. A humid wind brushed against your skin, tickling you. It had been quite a while since you had been in Japan, spending almost a year on a huge mission in America. You had killed a battalion worthy amount of special grades. You spent most of your time in America in mostly horribly rundown places, equally as infested with curses. Although you found yourself enjoying America’s natural beauty, further away from the city life that many of the Americans found themselves enjoying, you much preferred Japan. after all, it was your home, and where you met Gojo Satoru. It would be another day until you could return, and you had gone through hundreds of scenarios of finally being in his arms again, but nonetheless, you were ecstatic at the thought of your husband’s touch. Your phone’s notification chimed loudly, you threw your phone onto the other seat, heart jumping up to a high rate. It was a recording of Satoru loudly yelling, “OPEN YOUR FUCKING PHONE!” with a flurry of giggles afterwards. Ijichi jumped, turning left and right. Whispering under his breath, he let out an exasperated sigh, switching the music channel. The recording was mostly because of the time you had to ghost him due to work. Gojo had snuck on and recorded it, doing some magical tech stuff and giving you the custom notification sound. You had kept it that way ever since, since secretly, you enjoyed that you were so badly wanted by Gojo, that, and you had no idea how to change it back. But the custom notification was sweet as well. You smiled to yourself every time you heard it, a familiar twinge of pain flashing inside of you whenever you realized you wouldn’t be able to see him for a while. Well, today, and the days after that would be different. You’d be able to finally see Gojo again, and his new students that he always frantically texted you about. Nanami, an old friend of Gojo, and also an old friend of yours, would also be there to welcome you back, you found yourself reminiscing about them. You had heard so much about them, one of the kids being Sukuna’s vessel, you wondered how Gojo could contain such a fear, being around the kid at all times, he always told you about how the kid was actually energetic and happy and an overall great kid, you had heard about Nanami, finally coming back into the jujutsu sorcerer field of work, even though you always found that he still had a thing for finances. You shook your head, “Save that shit for later, (Y/N).” muttering to yourself, you didn’t want to think of anything but Gojo, after all, it had been one fucking year of being deprived of the man you loved most. You were practically starving for the guy, in more ways than one. Ijichi gulped, facing towards you, one hand on his steering wheel, “Forgive me Mrs. Satoru, but um.. Forgive me if I misheard, but I think I heard your phones notification go off.. Due to the ah- incredibly loud profanity.” Now just realizing that you had completely forgotten about the phone notification, you nodded your thanks to Ijichi, a warmth rushing to your cheeks before opening up your phone. In the small, rounded box containing Gojo’s message, he wrote in all caps, “SUGAR, MY BELOVED, MY QUEEN, HOW CLOSE ARE YOU? I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT I’M LITERALLY BOUNCING UP AND DOWN IN OUR BED.” Smiling to yourself, you furiously texted back, “Calm down honeybun, I’ll be there in like, 24 hours, I’m not even fucking close.” You almost instantly got a DM back, making you jump a bit in your seat. Even with the 5 years of friendship, and the 3 years of relationship, and the 2 years of marriage, he still almost always texted you back as quickly as possible. “God I can’t fucking wait for you to meet the kids! We’ll keep it a surprise, yeah? We have a bunch of treats, and we also got the kids to get some gifts for you! How thoughtful aren’t they? They’re MY offspring by the way, so like, you know, whenever you want a kid, it’s your call ;)” You snorted to yourself, smiling. He genuinely seemed so excited, and it was all shining through even though it was from a screen. “Maybe in a few years, I don’t even wanna imagine a little you.” Despite the excited, bubbling feeling brewing bigger and bigger in your stomach, you figured it’d be best to sleep before the chaos. Happily sighing, you laid down, using your purse as a pillow, drifting into a blissful sleep. ‧₊˚✩彡. You awoke to a sudden halt, Looking around your surroundings, you figured you were home. Ijichi looked like he was damn near about to fall asleep on the steering wheel. Well, maybe that’s what 24 hours of constant driving did to you. You fished around in your purse, silently cursing looking for a water bottle. “Here, Ijichi, looks like you ran a marathon.” you grinned, handing the slightly crumped water bottle to him. He beamed as if a guardian angel had descended down and gave him a trillion dollars. “Mrs. Satoru! You really mean it? The ride was nothing, I was merely instructed to do so and I would’ve done it happily regardless.” You waved your hand, as a dismissal of the conversation. “You overwork yourself Ijichi, go catch a break, on me. If Gojo tears you apart, tell him he won’t be getting any pussy from me for another year.” Ichiji nodded vigorously, before dashing off, probably towards a massage center, God that guy needed it. ‧₊˚✩彡. Gojo frantically hopped up and down, it had been a day, now he was just waiting for you to bust through the door in your wild hair, his legs sprawled onto the whole of a couch, he stared at the ceiling, a dopey smile spread across his face. “Satoru. (Y/N) will not even want to be associated with you, looking at your current state.” he remarked, staring at the sorcerer with his strikingly dead eyes. “Nanami, how the fuck am I supposed to act calm?! I’ve waited for this moment for ONE YEAR! Does my hair look normal?!” “Your hair looks just like an albino porcupine, just as usual.” Flipping the page of his newspaper, he sighed, rubbing his temples. “I will never understand how someone like (Y/N) would be.. Interested in you, Satoru.” Gojo paid no attention to the insult Nanami had so clearly made, his ears were perked up, eavesdropping on a distant conversation coming closer and closer. “Gojo-Senpai was telling me about this movie while training my cursed energy! He basically spoiled the whole thing but he told me that the main character was super annoying but apparently she dies in the end in the most gruesome way possible! It’s worth the watch, your soul will feel cleansed as soon as you see her lifeless body!” “Yuuji, you literally spoiled the whole thing to me just now.” Fushiguro calmly stated, looking bored out of his mind. “Oh, oops.” Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled coyly, tightly hugging his present. “What’s with the decorations, Gojo-Sensei?” inquired Nobara, stroking her warm toned brown hair. She had figured it was something about the presents that Gojo had forced the trio to get, but he never told them who it was for. The room had been decorated with various balloons and confetti, scattered about, on the table and the ground. A cake box wrapped with a gigantic bow limply guarded whoever was brave enough to get their hands on something that Gojo seemed to be protecting with his life. A pink table cover with a crudely drawn Gojo and what would seem to be a girl, a heart in the middle of the pair. In a horrible font with an even awfuller text, the text on top and at the bottom of the drawing proudly stated: “WELCOME BACK QT” “-YOU’RE HUSBAND AND THE CREW” Nobara stood in distaste, trying to disguise the face she made. The drawing, the misused you’re, and the overall poor design choice was enough to almost make her vomit. Nobara, about to make her distasteful statements about the whole mess, was suddenly shut up as Gojo started hopping up and down, looking directly at his phone. “SHE’S COMING! SHE’S COMING! EVERYONE IN YOUR PLACES!” Now, seeing Gojo freak out wasn’t outside of the ordinary, but it was to see him freak out to this extent. He was hopping up and down, blabbering about a certain woman named (Y/N). Nobara was pretty sure that if a curse attacked right now, even a special grade comparable to the one with the uncomplete domain could completely crush Gojo, the guy seemed completely unaware of the example he was setting to the kids. Even Yuuji stood in disbelief, and he had seen multiple tantrums by Gojo. Nanami, however, licked his finger and flipped the newspaper page. A face of boredom obviously displayed. Nobara, preparing herself to chew Gojo out about how utterly stupid and embarrassing he made the whole class of jujutsu sorcerers look like, stopped wide eyed as she looked at the doors slide wide open. ‧₊˚✩彡. You stood, shyly, looking at the ground. Gojo dove headfirst into your arms, laughing like a maniac and digging his face into your shoulder. You breathed in his scent, scanning the room. Three teens, sat wide-eyed, backs straight as they looked at you with eyes you couldn’t quite read. All three of them held presents. The one with eyelids underneath his eyes (which you assumed was Yuuji, the vessel of Sukuna) eyed you curiously, his eye twitched. The other boy, one with wild black-blue hair, sat mouth agape, before closing it. He looked like he was about to say something, before stopping entirely and hugging his present closer to his chest. The warm haired girl darted her eyes between you two, seemingly trying to put the puzzle together. Nanami put the newspaper down, glancing over to you two. “This is obviously Gojo-Senpai’s wife. He hasn’t seen her in many months, and as you can see, really really misses her.” he paused, a small smile spreading on his face, a rare sight. “I don’t even know why myself, but what can you do with lovebirds?” he thought aloud, his attention now focused to the two of you furiously making out, hands in places Yuuji and the crew didn’t need to see. “Satoru, (Y/N), leave the kissing for later. Don’t you see the kids?” You detached yourself from his mouth, panting for breath. The air being exhaled out of his nose fanned over your face, you had just now realized the kids again. “Satoru, lets sit down. I bet the kids are surprised. “ you motioned to the couch. Gojo whined. “What? They’re not that dumb, they can tell you’re my wife or at least, you’re my girlfriend, just by the way we kiss right? Isn’t this telling enough?” “You didn’t tell them about me, ever did you?” He sighed in defeat, holding tightly onto your arm as you dragged him over and sat down on the comfortable couch, opposite of Yuuji and the crew. Nanami scooched over, before finally getting up to pull another chair from somewhere else. Grunting, he excused himself from the room. “YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND, GOJO-SENPAI? AND DIDN’T TELL US?” Yuuji questioned, looking like he was about to faint. Gojo laughed, snuggling deeper onto you, almost like a koala. “She’s my wife, aren’t you, sugar? Did you even pay attention to anything Nanami said? He literally said she was my wife.” Megumi made an obvious gagging sound, but even he didn’t seem as bored as he was usually. He actually looked intrigued. “Why didn’t you tell us, Gojo-Senpai?” the girl nagged, slamming her fist down on the table. Gojo smiled, “Uh, well, I wanted it to be a surprise when she came back.” “Couldn’t you have told us that you had a wife or something?” Megumi butt in. The door slid open, Nanami coming in with a wooden stool. “Knowing Gojo-Senpai, that probably went over his head.” grunting as he placed the wooden stool down and sat, he opened his newspaper again. “Where do you guys know eachother?” “Was Gojo-Senpai handsome back in highschool too?” “Do you know what lipgloss Gojo-Senpai wears?” “Gojo-Senpai, how did you know you loved her?” “Gojo-Senpai, can we eat now?” “Do you know why Gojo has such a horrible sweet tooth?” Before you could even respond, Nanami put his hand up. “Now, now, lets let the happy couple settle down.” he cleard his throat, not even making eye contact with anyone but the newspaper. An audible chorus of groans sounded, “What do you expect us to do? We literally just met her!” moaned Yuuji. “Weren’t you the one that literally asked if we could eat yet?” Yuuji immediately shut up afterwards. “Yuuji, she just came back from a 1 day trip. She should be laying down comfortably with Gojo-Senpai and they should be catching up. You’ll have the opportunity to talk to her and learn about her later. Right now she needs space.” “But-” Nobara whined, clasping her hands together. Nanami turned to Fushiguro, but even he had his mind set. “I didn’t even begin to think that Gojo had a wife. I really want to know more about her, if you think about it, this is all Gojo-Sensei’s fault.” Nanami rubbed his temples, staring at the two of you for backup, realizing that you two were making out again. Nanami sighed, 10 years later and you two were still the same.

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robinisaghost · 3 years

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animatic ideas :0 (ramble away, i would love to hear them!!)

mk thank you for enabling me, i will now be yelling

anyway

this is gonna be so obnoxiously long i am so sorry

can you add read more's on asks? eeeekkkk because this got so damn long lmao

mild dsmp spoilers obviously

this is the playlist, by the way

-im sorry boris (wilbur soot)

i think it would work really well with mmm slightly post lmanburg niki. andby slightly i mean. well when she leaves (that is the whole thing of the song gdfjkhgsdf) also side note at like 1 minute 11 on that song theres a discord notification really subtly in the background and it makes me paranoid every time i hear it. anyway god its such a nice song. even for just like. the end of lmanburg. not necesarily paired with a character, just the sense of leaving a place that was so highly populated before it got blown up twice and was like. the main part of the smp. yeah. anyway also the lines "they'll knock down the pubs before helping you...they'll let you jump under trains before helping you" yeah those four lines have big niki vibes but also i think the song could work well with exile tommy or actually even with the finale when tubbo is about to sacrifice himself? mmmmm yeah

-this is home (cavetown)

mmmm got exile tommy vibes innit. a lot of these have exile tommy vibes tbf i just like sad songs and also exile tommy. plus the song has a lot of like. the message is sort of like. changing yourself to appeal to others? like with "ill cut my hair to make you stare" but also the repeated thing of "ill figure out a way to get us out of here" which is clearly the main character of the song trying to help everyone when they are clearly not in a good way themself. yeah thats got big tommy vibes in general tbh but more like. pre finale tommy. i think he got a bit more independant after that.

-soldier poet king (the oh hellos)

ok this is self explanatory and has been done to death already but d a m n its kinda funky. anyway i had thoughts and actually started this but then lost motivation and deleted it all lmaooo. the only proof of its existance is a shitty storyboard in my draw which will hopefully never see the light of day again (unless anyone wants to see it :eyes:) anyway i had the thought of like. sbi? so soldier techno poet wilbur and king tommy. but tbf tommy and techno are kinda interchangeable with that, cos while techno is obviously the better fighter, tommy is used a lot, especially in lmanberg era and also i think he probably will be now that wilburs back

-pyjama pants (cavetown)

ok so i honestly dont remember why this is on the playlist but tbf this could go well with a bunch of characters. thinking like. phil and wilbur? or wil and tommy, or tubbo and ranboo are two that like. i know for a fact that i did not put the song on the playlist specifically for them but god thinking about it now it works so well with them

-boys will be bugs (cavetown)

OH BOY THERES A LOT OF CAVETOWN ON HERE HUH (i feel like that probably says something about me but shhhhhh we dont need to talk about that) ANYWAY

I think this could probably work really well with tommy? because of the whole like. trying really hard to come across as not caring about others, but really being like. very vunerable. but at the same time it could go really well with wilbur for the same reasons. also the song fucks ok cant deny it. to be fair i think it works better with tommy, because he's younger and also he really likes bugs (unless i am mistaken) which is just a cool coincidence but still)

-brother (kodaline)

FUCKKKKKKKKKKK THIS WORKS SO WELL WITH SO MANY CHARACTERS AND IS ALSO ***SO ANGSTY*** WHAT

anyway

i added it because of tommy and tubbo because holy shit, but also it could work very very well with wilbur and tommy, techno and wilbur, probably techno and tommy, and oh my god i just thought of this but this would work so well with phil and techno!!!! but yeah i originally thought tommy and tubbo because i thought it was a funny coincidence with exile tommy waking up underwater, and theres a line that says "if you were drowned at sea, id give you my lungs so you could breathe" and like. just thinking about the compasses especially. me gusta.

-feel better (penelope scott)

fundy. that is all.

no ok this works well with fundy but also probably karl sapnap and quackity, and also very much wilbur, like it works well with both. just mainly fundy idk why its got big fundy vibes tho. very poggers.

-as the world caves in (matt maltese)

ok but like this goes very very well with the explosions of lamberg. either of them. i think probably the first one is better, but i think it goes well with both. probably the first one, because it was way more emotional i think? cos it was the first time that their homes had been destroyed and everything, but also because it was so personal, because wilbur was the one who did it. i think that also it would work well if it was set during the explosion but also focussed on different facets? so like. one bit about wilburs perspective, one bit about tommys, one about phils, one about fundys maybe? idk just a bunch of lmaburg citizens' povs for this. its good. as the world caves in is a song that can be so gender tbh.

-do you hear the people sing? (les mis)

obvious obvious obvious...... but like..... also tbh it goes well with a bunch of things. like, mmmmm wilbur in pogtopia. the butcher army. lmaburg independance war (obviously ghdskj) but yeah. also this song just goes so hard like b r u h

-wolf in sheeps clothing (set it off, william beckett)

SO MANY OF THESE ARE LIKE. PRETTY OBVIOUS IF YOUVE HEARD THE SONG

but yeah. it would go so well with like. well any betrayal basically. so eret, from tommys pov maybe, or about wilbur from nikis pov, or wilbur from anyone pov tbf, or quackity from charlie/purpled/foolish/sams pov, or sam from tommys pov, really it works well with so many people which says a lot about the characters tbh but shhhhhhhhhhhh

-need you here (idkhow)

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

mk mk mk mk FUNDY AND WILBUR THO

like b r u h that works so well with them

also i started this one as well but didnt like it, theres a story board in my draw as well for it because like. oh my god its such a good idea i just am shit at animating and don't have a decent enough program :')

also also

the line "daddy has to go, and that makes me sad, but daddy will always come back, he promised" fuckkkkkk that works so well with like. say for example, idk, when they're celebrating schlatts death and wilbur leaves to press the button? the sheer fucking angst of that is enough to kill any one person istg that is in fact the entire reason why i started the animatic in the first place. just that line. also all the lines sung by the child voice. fuckin angsty as hell. also ust generally a banging song, as is every idkhow song

-green (cavetown)

another cavetown song huh. ok sure.

mk so wilbur and sally and fundy. like. for a start, the imagry of a fish at the start? boom sally.

anyway the lines "you looked so good in green, i hope you're well, and you look so good with him, (schlatt ig?) and I'm proud of you still (wilburrrr and fundyyyy) i miss your perfect teeth, i was too blunt, i hope you feel happy, that's all I want"

FUCKKKK

the whole song is about missing someone you used to love and only hoping the best for them!!!! and wishing that they are happy and safe!!!!!!!!!!! and hoping they still think about you!!!!! but even if they dont its fine because all you want is for them to be happy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

-achilles come down (gang of youths)

OK I THOUGHT IT COULDNT GET ANGSTIER

so like. tw suicide but thats what the entire song is about and bing bang boom i just think it works so so so so so so so well with not only exile tommy (who obviously did try to kill himself) but also wilbur in a slightly more metaphorical way? so like. his self destructive habits leading him to a point where he had no choice other than to kill himself and to take his country down with him. and its all about other characters trying to help them and persuade them not to but also near the end there is a second voice trying to persuade them to go along with it, which im thinking like. if its wilbur, either dream or maybe just himself. his own brain persuading him to continue down the path that would inevitably lead to his and his countries destruction. also it works well with schlatt for the same reasons, except he doesnt want to die. maybe (since the song is so goddamn long) like. one verse for tommy one for wilbur and one for schlatt? dead gang poggg but also like. the verses cover fairly different things which work with one character but not so much the others, for example the first verse would be tommy because its mainly about persuading the person to not kill themself (which tommy did himself but shhh) the second for schlatt because its literally about drinking and smoking away your problems, and the third for wilbur since its more of a fight between the "good" and the "bad" sides, which is obviously what wilbur was experiencing. also obviously i have a soft spot for this song because its string instruments and french, basically my favourite combination ever (also i like his voice idfk lmao)

ANYWAY THATS ALL THE SONGS ON THERE SO FAR

i literally thought of another song while i was in the shower today but i dont remember which it was but a n y w a y the playlist will most definitely be getting longer, especially since there are so many more songs that are good for this but i just havent added them yet lmao. anyway ive been writing this for like an hour gsdfjhgdhfsg but still oh my god this was fun to write

#long post #tw suicide #only a mention at the end but still gotta be safe :)#dsmp #dreamsmp #dsmp animatics #robin talks #ask #thank you so much for the ask tho cos like. i dont wanna be annoying or anything? but also like. i really wanted to talk about this gsdfkjg #god i hope the read more worked or this is gonna be annoying to everyone ever #its fine probably maybe not really

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vanchlo · 4 years

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The Assistant / Chapter Forty-Three, “The One Where It Happens”

*Gifs not mine*

Clickable Links:

- *NEW* Becky Magazine Cover from an O.C. Tag Challenge

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Hecky Playlist

- Read on Wattpad

Word Count: 12.3k words

Warnings: Sensitive topics

Music Inspo: Lay Down Beside You by Carl Storm (click to listen, this song is too perfect for this chapter)

SNEAKYYYYY PEEK

I worry. I fear. I cry. I doubt. I struggle for breath. I grieve. I sob. I ache. Because I love. No, not loved. I love.

Love is what makes me want to go back to her, and cover her broken body with kisses. Love is what scares the living shit out of me, preventing me from doing that in this very second, because I’m afraid that I’ll break her all the more. Love is what sends the words tumbling off of my aching lips.

“‘m alright if yer alright, Becks . . . B-But ‘m not alright.”

Life has many ways of testing a person’s will - either by having nothing happen at all, or by having everything happen at once.

- Paulo Coelho

Today had seemed like a dream, and I was unsure of when I’d get used to that, or when I’d get used to all of this. If I never did, I’d be okay with that, because she just keeps amazing me with every step I take. I never want this dream to end, if it is one after all.

Speak of an angel, and there she is, I think. The thought races to the front of my mind, pushing all of the others aside. She’s always managed to be very good at doing that, I recall.

“I’m gonna get going then,” she announces, clasping her milky

white hands together in front of her after walking back into my office.

A sad smile finds its way to my lips as I admire her, wishing I could spend the rest of my days memorizing every detail of her. The little tan birthmark beneath her eye that she doesn’t cover up anymore, much to my happy findings. The sparkle in her eyes, the left one scattered with more indigo flecks. The always waves in her dark chocolate hair. Her braided silver ring that I’ve never seen her without, always playing with it mindlessly.

“Harry?” she hums. I blink, focusing my eyes back on her.

Becks. My lovely Becks. Maybe even . . my girlfriend? Impossible although it had seemed, my lips reach higher elevations on my cheeks at the thought. I don’t let it run away from me, although I’m itching to let the question leave my lips.

There’s always tomorrow for that, I decide silently as I adore the invisible inquisition toying with her eyebrows.

“Alright?” Becks asks, taking another step forward until she arrives at my desk.

“Ya, ‘m great,” I confess softly, pushing at the lip of my desk to get to my feet.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she ponders nervously, a fire sparking in her cheeks as I near her figure dressed in a sleek black pantsuit. A cream chiffon blouse falls under the hollow of her neck modestly, adorned by the opal necklace I haven’t seen her take off since our first date. Yet another confirmation that that night was real, and so is all of this. My bloody God, I wonder when I’ll ever be able to believe it.

“I dunno,” I giggle, my hands finding their way into the conversation with a shrug of their own. “Jus’ so happy lookin’ at you . . You make me happy, Becks . . Very.”

The dimple finds its place in her left cheek again, and I know then that I’m fucked all the more. A similar sound flows from her lips, and I wish it didn’t have to come to an end as my palm slips into hers.

“You make me happy too, Harry, so happy,” she titters, peeking up at me with those goddamn blue eyes. The very blues that could send me whizzing off into another oblivion, and I’d feel honored for it. I’m given just enough time to catch the glint in her eye, wetness sitting there in the corner before she looks away again. “Today made me so happy.”

“Me too, bug. I can hardly believe I get t’ do this e’ry day . . with you,” I snicker happily, tugging on her hand until my arms are surrounding her shoulders.

“Neither can I,” she concurs, the words tickling the skin peeking out from my hardly buttoned shirt. A second of wetness tickles the skin there when my hand comes to cup the back of her head, pressing a kiss below my thumb a moment later.

“Call me when ya get home, will you? We should FaceTime and watch anotha episode, if yer not gettin’ too sick o’ me yet.”

“Never,” she sighs, nudging my chin towards the sky when she lifts her head. It falls now, to find her moist blue eyes searching for me. It plummets further until my lips catch the hint of a tear at the corner of her eye, kissing it away. “I could never get sick of you.”

“‘s gonna be quite a long time befo’ I get sick o’ you, bug,” I murmur against her cheek, the traces of orange blossoms marking her skin. I can almost taste it on my lips when I leave a kiss there.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, yanking my eyes to her grinning lips that I envelop with my own. A ‘good’ brushes against her pair between moments of adoring her top lip between mine. The tip of her nose leaves lazy circles drawn on my skin while I sketch my own onto her creamy skin. The moment couldn’t last long enough. I wish I could freeze it in time and enjoy it for longer before my lungs begin to burn for air.

“Drive safe,” I whisper against her mouth, saying goodbyes into her hair with the motions of my thumb.

“I will, don’t worry. I’ll call you when I get home, it shouldn’t take me even fifteen minutes to get there.”

“‘Kay, ‘ll talk t’ you soon then,” I smile, touching my lips to her button nose. “Boops.”

“Now, don’t stay here too long, boss. You’re going to turn into a workaholic or something, Harry,” Becks taunts with her flushed lips drawing me in.

“‘ll try not t’, that’s all I can promise.”

A laugh joins her answering nod before she surprises me with one last kiss, making me want to take back all of the words I just said, and spend a few more moments kissing her. Minutes, maybe.

“Night, Harry.”

“G’night, Becks. ‘ll talk t’ ya later . . my love,” I divulge, enjoying the pink that rises in her cheeks at the mention of the simple words. Simple, yet oh so true.

“Bye, my Harry,” she echoes, squeezing my hand one last time on her way out the door. Her azul blue eyes meet mine over her shoulder when she pulls my door closed, decadent lips curled into a smile just for me. Lips that I already want to have touching my own again, dark chocolate waves I want to be losing my hands in, and that laugh I want to be pulling from her lips.

It’s never long enough with her, but I get to do today all over again with her tomorrow. The day after that, and after that. Stolen kisses in the copier room, her head on my shoulder while watching FRIENDS at my desk, those pretty fingers dancing along my tense shoulders, and a closeness between us that I’ve longed to have for so long. Too long.

A closeness with her that I never want to lose.

The very last unanswered email is whisked away with a whoosh. Finally, I have that done. With it, it drags my eyes to my wrist that vibrates with an alert. A premature smile graces my lips until it falls at the sight of a different name, not the one I was expecting.

“What’s takin’ her so long?” I mutter as my eyes flit over Myles’ text, some joke about firing me if I keep staying past five o’clock.

“Bastard,” I sigh with a shake of my head, pressing my palm to the screen as the time repeats in my head.

5:26 passes.

Then, 5:36 passes too as I wait for her to reply to my texts, or to call.

Reckon she should’ve been home by now, having left at 5, I wonder silently, aware of the thrumming of my heart. I’m sure she’s just making something to eat.

Yeah, Harry, that’s it.

Why am I worrying so much? 5 o’clock traffic is a bitch, anyways. It’s what made me late to our date the other night, so I should know.

“She’ll call soon,” I mumble aloud, crafting a quick text to her, adding to the others I’ve already sent her tonight.

i think today may have been my favourite w/ u so far ;) xo

hurry up slowpoke

rebecca ann ur slow. im kiddin. drive safe bug xo

Sighing, I turn back to my iMac where I already have the next episode of FRIENDS queued up, waiting for her.

A new bloop! sounds when an email arrives in my inbox. Clicking on it, I begin to absorb the words until my office phone interrupts with a loud bringggggg!

“This ‘s Harry,” I say automatically, and am answered with an eerie silence. A darkness trickles into my chest at the little sounds accompanying it. The pangs of worry return, demanding to be felt amongst the mix of it all. “Hullo?”

“H-Harry, this is Skye,” a shaky voice replies at last.

“Hi, what’re you doin’ callin’ me main line?” I joke, hoping to add a lightness to the atmosphere that so direly requires one. The fear threatening at my edges gains strength when I make out the likeness of it in her voice. “If yer lookin’ fer Becks she left half an hour ago, reckon she’s home by now.”

“No, s-she’s not,” she says. I hear it, and I immediately wish that I hadn’t. Denying it with a shake of my head, it doesn’t disappear that easily, the crack in her voice. “She . . d-didn’t make it home, Harry.”

“What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout, Skye? I jus’ saw her half an hour ago,” I contend, rushing through my words as my back straightens to full attention.

“I know . . I just talked to her on the phone f-fifteen minutes ago, but Harry . . ,” Skye continues, words wandering away from her. They’re kidnapped by the tears that I finally acknowledge in her voice, and now echoing on the line. “S-She was in . . an accident.”

“What . . What kinda accident? ‘s she alright? W-Who told you this? That can’t be right, I jus’ saw her,” I argue, losing my footing quite immediately.

Rising to my feet, the words are too close for comfort and my knees threaten to give out on me. A hand races to my hair, carding heavy strokes through it that tug hairs loose, but I disregard the pain. Another form of it demands to be felt inside of me, next to my heart that climbs in speed with every moment absent of words. An absence of Becks being okay.

“I don’t want it to be real either, Harry, b-but an officer just rang me. H-He said a car ran a light and h-hit her . . not long after I got off the phone with her. It was right behind the driver’s side and . . it doesn’t look very good,” she reveals, sobs growing thicker in her voice. My feet run rampant circles around my office as my fingers tug violently at my hair.

“This ‘sn’t funny, Skye, if yer pullin’ me leg,” I begin with a forced amusement, but it doesn’t make it very far. I don’t make it that far until I fall onto the sofa, my words crashing into loud sobs that steal my breath away. “I jus’ got her back . . I can’t lose her ‘gain,” the confession comes, drenched in tears that shake my body.

“I know,” she agrees with echoing devastation as tears paint the inside of my palm clung to my face. “She’s been my best friend for t-twenty-one years, Harry. I-I can’t imagine my life without her, and I know she’d never want to imagine a life without you.”

My head shakes rapidly from side to side as the tepid wetness paints stripes down my cheeks, escaping from my eyes that I press shut painfully. Whimpers flee from my lips, the very ones that were just kissing hers thirty minutes prior.

This can’t be happening. No, I can’t lose my Becks when she just found her way back to me.

“No, no . . no, no,” I sob, each utterance becoming more indiscernible with the emotions consuming them. “Not my Becks,” I mutter, air escaping my lungs with such force that leaves me dizzy in the head.

“She’ll be okay, she’s strong, Harry. She’s made it through so much other shit. N-Not this sort, but . . . she broke her leg riding bike one time when we were eight, and she was fine. S-She cut her finger cooking once and drove herself to hospital all herself,” Skye reveals, the trembling words doing nothing to calm my heart that I’m afraid may bound from my chest at a moment’s notice.

“Strongest person I know,” I concur, a hiccup rattling my voice that fights for composure. “W-What’d they tell you . . ‘bout Becks?”

“They’re taking her to uh, King’s Cross hospital. Reckon there’ll be a waiting room I can meet you at while s-she’s in . . surgery,” Skye explains, and my head rushes up and down with nods now. I shakily get to my feet and take a step towards my door, but once again, I don’t make it far. A wooziness falls over me, and I grab the arm of the sofa just in time to recover. “They said they stabilized her and she was breathing and everything, b-but surgery was in order. Car was totaled, though. That’s not good . . No, that’s not good,” she cries, words falling harder and harder the more she goes on. With every one that she speaks, my sobs thicken and louden against the confines of my palm.

“Don’t say that . . D-Don’t, she’s gonna be okay. She has t’ be,” I defend, wishing more with every second that I believed my own words. If the words themselves could wish it into existence, I’d speak them over and over until it came true.

“I’m sorry,” she confesses breathlessly. “I’ll uh, meet you there. C-Call me when you get there. It’s the . . hospital on the west side of town, not too far from you, I reckon. She’s probably . . already there,” Skye finishes before the dial tone drills into my ears, and I’m left listening to my unsteady breaths.

The phone plummets from my hand to meet the floor with a crrrrrunching sound, but I don’t even care. There’s so little I care about in this moment, because my thoughts are consumed by her. They’re racing, demanding, and making me sick. My chest trembles with another intense sob as my palms press against my eyes. Strands of my hair are taut around my fingertips, my scalp searing with pain.

She’s become all I’ve cared about in these last few weeks, and it’s been magnified within moments now.

“No,” I cry, salt water dripping over my lips and plummeting from my chin. “Becks, no.”

Sniffling, it’s suddenly impossible to ignore the rock sitting in my gut. Jumping to my feet, my hands fall as I cross the room and fall to my knees harshly. The cold, granite tiles dig into my boney limbs as I retch into the bin. Grouting in the tiles leaves marks on my skin when I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth moments later.

Sweat beads on my forehead as the room spins around me. Tears press harshly at the back of my eyes when I envision her standing in front of me, kissing me goodbye just moments ago, it seemed. Shakes overwhelm my body within seconds, and my knees kiss the tiles once more. The coolness is welcomed by my flushed forehead as I curl into myself, her smiling face captivating every thought I have while my body convulses with a new sob. It takes the last ounces of strength I can find to pull myself up to a kneeling position, then to plant one foot against the floor, and another until I’m standing.

“‘m comin’, Becks,” I mumble, voice breaking from the first word. Wiping under my eyes, I rip open the door. Feet pounding down the hallway, I sniffle as another warm stripe cascades down my cheeks. A second and third accompany it when I pass her office, and I yank my eyes away, knowing that I can’t look. I’ll collapse to the floor again if I see her name sitting there on the door, waiting for her to return tomorrow morning.

Patting my pockets hastily, I yank my ring of keys from the fabric only to drop them. Cursing, I bend down to pick them up before rounding the corner. I’m almost knocked off my feet by Myles who skids to a halt. Unbeknownst to me, I didn’t think I could be hurting more until I found the look that dawns on his face.

“Hare, what’s wrong?” he demands, grabbing my bicep.

A sob revokes my words and a hand flies to my mouth. Eyebrows falling, tears interrupt my voice as the explanation plays on a loop between my ears.

“Becks, s-she . . ,” I try to say, but a shake of my head places a gap in between my words. “Was inn’a accident. I have t’ go t’ her . . tha hospital. I wanna be there when she wakes up, and-,” now, I cut myself off abruptly. Tears blur my vision, and soon I’m seeing stripes. A feeling surrounds me, and I find that it’s his arms crushing me in a hug. His name drops from my lips in a choked sob.

“You’re not driving anywhere like this. I’ll take ya, Hare,” he murmurs into my ear, out of place back rubbing following his words. “I’m so bloody sorry, mate. Fuck, I just saw her when she left.”

“So did I. H-How can it be real? I just . . . I jus’ got her back, My’. She jus’ came back t’ me and we jus’ started datin’ finally . . I can’t fookin’ lose her all over ‘gain, not fer real this time . . I don’t think I could live inn’a world that she’s not in, Myles,” I confess into his shoulder, clutching onto him. My chest expands and falls against his, convulsing with every worst case scenario that sends tears flying from my eyes.

“It’ll be okay.”

“Don’t fookin’ say that, ‘coz what if it ‘s not? What if she’s not okay? What if she . . d-dies, My’? I can’t-,” the words run away from me, and for once, I’m thankful for it. They’re drenched by too much reality, more than I can stomach.

I don’t remember following him down to the parking garage, or getting into the car. The next thing I know, my head is tipped against the frosty glass window in his BMW, the lights of London cloudy from behind my eyes.

“I jus’ bloody saw her, and I kissed her and hugged her,” I whisper, watching the words fog up the glass, if only for mere seconds. A warm tear dives from my chin, crashing onto the v of my chest.

‘I knows’ answer me back, as well as squeezes to my arms when I least expect them. It all runs into a blur - the traffic, snow fluttering against the windows, and the pounds of tears I shed into the air. Most of all, the thoughts running rampant within me hardly make much sense by the time we’ve parked. The one thing that’s clear as day is how my heart swells with bittersweetness when her face swims inside of my skull, and the love that pours out from it for her.

I already know that I love her, and it only makes me hurt a million times worse.

“She’ll likely be in surgery for a good while, it’s a rather long affair, Hare,” Myles announces as the automatic sliding doors open for us, greeting us with a burst of hot air.

“I know . . Skye said she’s in tha waitin’ room erm, on tha second floor,” I respond, reading from my phone. My eyes fill with more tears as I swipe a finger under the both of them, sniffling.

“Here, I see a lift.”

Relief ironically escapes me when we finally find Skye bouncing her legs up and down in a chair, arms wrapped around herself as she stares at the floor. It takes her a moment to look up after saying her name, but with her disarray of colorful hair, I reckon she’s the best person I can relate to on this entire floor.

“Hey,” I whisper when I embrace her, surprising myself at the same time. A shy ‘hi’ fills my ears as her thin frame greets mine. Her shaking arms squeeze me around the middle, and I linger there for a few seconds than necessary before pulling away. “Has anybody came t’ talk t’ you?”

“No, not yet. I just checked in with somebody when I came in, and they said to come up here. S-So, I did, and the nurse’s desk told me somebody would come when they have news. Whenever that is,” she sighs, flicking a thumb below her eye to catch a tear that strays from her waterline.

“D-Did ya call Robbie and her dad?”

“Yeah, just now. Robbie should be here soon, and Chuck was just about to leave . . I figure he won’t get here until she’s out of surgery, even though we don’t know how bloody long that’ll take. But, he’ll be here i-in a few hours,” she answers, her voice catching on the last of her words.

“I’m gonna go and find us something to drink,” Myles interrupts, nodding his head down the hallway. I mirror his actions, grateful for the offer as I clear my scratchy throat. It dried up the second those very words rocked me to the core.

Silence ensues as I fall onto the lumpy sofa beside her, a telly across the room murmuring softly in the background. Magazines lie open in front of us on the wooden table, chairs and more chairs surrounding us.

“I wish somebody would just tell us something,” she groans beside me, wringing her hands in her lap. A sob stills in her throat and I watch her face collapse along with it.

“I can go and ask, ‘m antsy too. Only been here a minute and already I am,” I suggest with a tough swallow. The lump in my throat greets me again as she shakes her head ‘no.’

Folding my hands together, they come to sit against my mouth as I now bounce my knee. Eyes flitting in every direction, I will a nurse or doctor littering the halls to wander over to us with their bloody clipboard and lab coat.

“Find anythin’ else out tho’?” I pipe up, dropping a hand and letting it squeeze hers. I’ve only met this woman a handful of times, and yet, I know that she’s the closest thing I’ve got to a friend here. She’s the only other person who could understand how I’m feeling right now, because she’s the only other person in this damn hospital who loves Becky too. At the same time, my actions are unprecedented and alien to me, this entire situation is.

Tears arrive in my eyes as I wait for her voice to make a choppy return, “Just when I got here and checked in, s-so to speak, that she was in surgery. They didn’t say what for really, I suppose only the team working on- with her knows,” she explains, and now, I’m the one nodding. A long breath spills from my lips, and it does next to nothing to calm the thrashing of my heart, and the onslaught of my mind.

The reality of the situation brings my head into my palms again where I spill silent tears, accentuated by the whimpers of my lips. My entire body shakes with every sob, every sob that yearns for my arms to return to her. My eyes to see hers again, those baby blues that now, I can’t stop imagining my babies having one day. That painful thought makes them come harder now while I struggle for air, lungs burning for other reasons now, like nonexistent children that I very well may never have with her now.

Fuck.

I wish more than anything that I could be back in my office an hour ago, annoying her with kisses as she finished up an email. What I’d do to have my lungs burning in need of the air filling hers, and not for the air around me that may not even hold her life anymore.

No, I can’t think like that. If I entertain that thought for a millisecond, there’s no going back.

“You know, you’re her whole world and always have been. She couldn’t shut up about you lately, a-and all of your dates. When I spoke to her on the phone r-right before . . . she was saying how amazing of a day she had had . . with you. She couldn’t wait to do it all over again, she’s so mad about you, Harry. S-She even wrote you this letter once saying how she-,” Skye divulges, the words filling my ears. Instantaneously, they want nothing more than to spit them back out.

“Don’t! Don’t say all o’ that. D-Don’t say it in past tense, or like she’s not . . g-gonna be able t’ tell me all ‘bout it. We can’t act that way . . She’s gonna be okay, she’s gotta be okay,” I insist into my hands, struggling for breaths. Lifting my head, I turn it away from her and towards the window, my lips squashed into a line. Briny tears drip over them as I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, hiccups finding their way into the air.

“I’m sorry, I-.”

“I c-can’t talk ‘bout her like she’s- like that. I can’t t-think ‘bout her like that . . her not bein’ here anymo’,” I exclaim, shooting to my feet in order to change directions.

I thought I couldn’t believe my life earlier today and the direction it’d taken, and now, I can’t believe it one bit. I don’t want to, and I wish I didn’t have to. I thought that I was living a dream today, and now, I know that I’m living a nightmare. I didn’t want to wake up earlier, but I need to now, more than anything.

I want to open my eyes and find her curled against my chest, snoring peacefully with her body warming mine. Like last night, a moment I could live in for forever.

A vibrating in my pocket barges into my thoughts, and I’m unsure whether to welcome it as I reach for it. The same ringtone by The Cure sings from around my wrist, and my heart only falls deeper when I see the name claiming it. It sends a wave of relief throughout my body, but it only lasts a few seconds. The only name that could make it permanent is far from an option, and here I am, still wishing for it with my own two eyes. I wish that she wasn’t in an operating room somewhere in this same building, and instead her voice was singing from my phone. That’s how it was supposed to be, anyways.

“Mum,” I answer softly, steps halting in the hallway. A sob freezes in my chest at the thought of having to speak truth into the nightmare I’m living.

“Harry honey, what’s tha matta?” my mum responds, worry rocking her voice.

“‘s Becks. She-,” I confess, but I can’t say it. I want nothing more than to say something else. When she asks if she’s alright, I want to say yes, and it sends wobbles down my legs knowing that I can’t say that. I can’t say it, because I don’t know it.

“It’s okay, love, take a deep breath.”

“I can’t,” I weep, a wail escaping my lips, muffled by my palm. The tear stained skin flies to my hair that I tug at, ignoring the throb of my head hitting the wall of the hallway. “I can’t breathe, mum . . I can’t not knowin’ if she ‘s okay.”

“Oh, darlin’. What happened to her?”

“She w-was . . . inn’a car accident,” I admit breathlessly, sucking in lungfuls of air that don’t do a thing. A fire still lives deep down inside of my chest, and it was born the moment I heard Skye speak those words. “‘m at tha hospital now waitin’ t’ hear sumthin.’ Her best friend’s here with me, but, mum. ‘m so scared . . that ‘m gonna lose her fer real,” I whimper, swiping my tongue across my trembling lips wet with tears.

“Oh, Harry,” she sighs, my sadness mirrored in her voice. “I’m so sorry, love. Do they know the extent of her injuries?”

“I dunno, all they told her friend ‘s that she’s in surgery. We’re waitin’ fer sumbody t’ tell us mo’,” I answer, hiccups stealing my words away from me. “I hate sittin’ here not knowin’, I should go and ask . . but ‘m afraid t’. Mum . . ,” I trail off, weakness overwhelming my body that sags against the wall. I’m not even aware of the people walking past me and the hush of voices, but I couldn’t care less.

“Breathe, honey, please. Everythin’ will be okay. I know it doesn’t seem that way right now, but it will.”

“Ya can’t say that! Ya dunno if ‘s true,” I exclaim, anger seeping through in my voice, but it’s misdirected. “I jus’ want this all t’ be a dream, I don’t want it t’ be real. I can’t think ‘bout it . . ‘bout her . . dyin’.”

“Shhhh, love. I’m sorry.”

“No, I am. But, God, mum . . I love her. I already know I do. I know it sounds bloody mad seein’ we’ve only been on two dates, but-,” I begin, but she interrupts me, reminding me of where I get my love of it from.

“No, it doesn’t sound like that, honey. I know how you’ve felt ‘bout her these last few years, she’s been all you could talk ‘bout,” my mother says, and the only relief that I’ve seen is offered in her voice.

“I love her, mum, and she m-might-,” I try to say, but I can’t spit those words out. I don’t think I ever could, and my desire to avoid them for the rest of eternity trumps all else.

“Do you think she feels tha same way ‘bout you?” she asks calmly. A huff passes my lips, and I breathe in through my nose slowly. It doesn’t make a difference when a melancholy wave knocks me over.

“Y-Ya . . I think I know she does now,” I whimper, my voice drowning in the tears.

“And does she know how you feel ‘bout her, Harry?”

“Ya, reckon she does. I haven’t been able t’ stop lovin’ on her since our first date. And n-now . . I may neva get t’ kiss her ‘gain or hug her or . . ,” the sob leaves more trails of tepid tears on my cheeks. My thumbs press against my eyes, willing the tears to abate, but they don’t obey. Not one part of my body has obeyed my commands since I heard those nightmarish words.

“Then it sounds like she has somethin’ to fight fer, love. It��s not tha ‘end all be all,’ but tha will to live is a powerful thing, son,” she tells me, the first licks of ice calming my feverish heart.

“I hope yer right.”

“I’m your mum, I’m always right,” she quips, and the first hint of a laugh graces my lips. It’s gone as fast as it came, stolen away by another round of whimpers shaking from my lips.

“Everythin’ will be okay, son.”

“And if they aren’t, and . . . she d-doesn’t make it, mum?” I sob, the words finding their exit between sobs that rip from my chest. Pain soars through the tear at the uttering of the words that I have to acknowledge, and wish that I never had to think.

“Then mumma will be there att’a moment’s notice fer ya,” she replies, and I wish I didn’t hear the crack in her voice. It’s the very one that tore open the slit that the tears poured out through. This all started with the crack of a voice. “Lemme know if you want me to come, Harry.”

“B-But I jus’ got her back, mum. I can’t . . She can’t . . ,” I fail once again, and this time, I’m okay with it. I don’t want to ever have to say that word again, I’ve already uttered them one too many times.

“You’ll never lose that love ya had, Harry. Trust me, I know ya can’t. I miss Robin every bloody day, but his passin’ didn’t take away our love or tha memories we made . . I know that your love with her only jus’ started, but ya had somethin’ special. I can already see that, darlin’, and you’ll never lose tha memories you made with her, and tha love that ya made together . . Think of those happy times ya had with her while you’re waitin’ for her to be outta surgery. After that, ya should get some rest, love. Sometimes surgeries can take long, and that’s okay, ‘cause you want tha doctors to be thorough and to do all that they can fer her. And they will do all that they can to save her, Harry . . It’s almost six o’clock, love, and even after her surgery is done, it takes a while to come outta anesthesia. It’ll be a long night. Try to get some rest, son, I’m sure she’d want you to,” she explains to me, and suddenly, I wish I could get a hug from my mum.

The thought propels me into others, wishing I could hide in the arms of another. She’s always been my very favorite hiding place, and another wave rocks through me at the thought of never getting to escape to her arms again. Her smell sends my heart spinning as I drop my phone back into my pocket, aching to have her hair tickle my nose with the scent. Placing my palms against my eyes slick from crying, I hiccup in between tears. Uneven breaths pour in and out of me, and for a second, I can remember the traces of her weight in my arms. The smell of her orange blossom shampoo, the taste of her cherry carmex chapstick, and the strokes of black and gray ink along her wrist.

“Becks, please be okay,” I mutter underneath my breath. My scalp sings with pain when my fingernails dig into the skin, making me realize this is all real. It’s not a dream that I can wake myself up from, because my life became a dream and then fell away into a nightmare.

“Harry!” somebody calls my name. I don’t know how much time has passed, standing there in the corner of the hallway pouring my eyes out into my hands.

It takes a few moments for my eyes to focus ahead of me, and for a fleeting second, her face appears in front of them. Blinking hard, I rub a knuckle against my eye, and she’s gone in a flash. Instead, I find Skye waving me back over to the chairs where a tall man in navy blue scrubs stands in front of her.

“Coming,” I answer, clearing my throat as my feet remember how to work. The tingles that had settled into my sleeping limbs disperse as I take long, hurried steps until I’m at her side again, trying to forget the words she had said earlier.

“Is this everybody?” the man says, tanned arms crossed over his chest.

“No, wait!” another voice pipes up, and I spin around to find Robbie rushing towards us. “I-I’m her brother,” he continues, voice shaky with emotions. His eyes briefly meet mine before he stops at my side, engulfed by a hug of Skye’s.

“Hey,” I mumble when he pulls away with a nod, his fist brushing along one of his cheeks. The greeting is difficult as my eyes are met with pain and striking similarity. Her very same baby blue eyes sit before me, as well as the wavy dark hair, and a distorted version of her lovely facial features.

“Hey, Harry,” he returns, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat after his words.

When his wet eyes meet mine, more unspoken words pass between us including ‘thank you’s and silent understandings. My squeezing grip is met by his taut arm when I watch the shiny tears fill his eyes. He nods back at me, quivering lips absent of words while another tear breaks free from his Holte Blue Eyes. Those goddamned eyes tear another rip into my heart at the mere sight, drudging up the wishes they conjured within my mind just last night.

Styles babies with Holte Blue eyes.

Please, God. Please let that still be a truth.

“Now that we’re all here, I’m Jack. I’m sorry for the circumstances we’re meeting on, but I’m a nurse on your uh, family member’s team. Rebecca was in a serious accident, and we’re doing all that we can. She went into surgery around ten minutes ago, as soon as she got here,” the towering man explains, achieving the closest thing to quieting my mind. I’m just afraid that when he stops talking, my skull will be vibrating with more thoughts, and far worse ones. “She suffered some fractured ribs that unfortunately pierced her spleen, causing internal bleeding. That is the most urgent of her injuries, but rib fractures are incredibly painful. They can make it hard to breathe deeply or to cough properly, sometimes leading to chest infections. In the accident, she also fractured her ankle, but we’re not entirely sure of the extent of it. Due to the impact of the other car hitting her and the location of it, her right arm was broken and . . Grade 2 concussion . . amnesia,” a cloud passes over my ears then, and I turn away, soon falling into a nearby chair.

Worst case scenarios bloom within the attic of my body, spewing tears onto my cheeks. Waterfalls cascade down them, fueled by the replaying of the man’s words between my ears. Fractured ribs. Internal bleeding. Chest infections. Amnesia. Broken ankle. Concussion. Broken arm. The tears come harder at the realization of every word, and how they laden my heart with further darkness. It falls into the recesses of my chest with each passing moment, the obscenities that left his mouth acting as the anchor that yank it down, further and further.

I don’t hear my name the first few times, or register the hand on my shoulder. Swarms of possibilities that I can’t welcome lift me from my seat and down the hall once again until I repeat the past, and ram shoulders with Myles. My eyes fly to his surprised face, but it’s ephemeral before he’s pulling me against his front, and his hand is pressed against the back of my head.

“She’s gotta be okay,” I plead into his shoulder, finding fistfuls of his blazer in my hands. “B-But internal bleedin’ . . amnesia . . broken bones . . a concussion . . infections. My’, I can’t do this,” the revelation feels prickly on my tongue as I fight to flight.

“You can do this, Hare. You have to. Becky, she- she needs you to, mate,” he insists, hands waving stripes against my back. I shake my head back and forth into him, refusing to believe any of this.

“No, this can’t be real. It can’t. I jus’ saw her, I jus’ kissed her and hugged her,” I weep, repetitive begging pouring from my tongue. My hands let go and I push at his chest for escape. He only holds me tighter within his steely arms, and I make out the first of his tears. “I shoulda told her that I loved her, I dunno if she knew. I shoulda told her,” I relent, my body becoming pliant against his.

“She knew, Harry. I think she knew, mate . . You showed it to her in so many bloody ways, you didn’t have to say it. She knew it, she saw it. You’ll get to tell her, and hear her say it back,” he tells me, but my head hasn’t stopped shaking in denial. “Her friend over there is almost smiling, I think. The nurse is too, it looks like maybe it’s not so meek after all, Hare. It looks like she might be okay.”

“This ‘sn’t funny, Myles, I swear t’-,” I wail, breaths filling my lungs and refusing to remain. A ‘no’ fills my ears, and I’m forced to turn around when he pulls away at the sound of my name. Yet, he’s not the one saying it.

“Harry!” Skye calls, and her hurried steps follow her voice. Smearing the tears from my eyes, I gulp and find the bravery to look up. Becky’s best friend in the whole entire world stops in front of me, eyes rimmed with red. “They sound hopeful,” she reveals, the smallest spark of a smile sitting at the edge of her lips. Robbie stops a step behind her, shoving hands into his pockets while a tear falls from the slope of his chin.

“Really?” I croak, stepping away from Myles until his arms fall from me. She answers with a nod and a rosy smile blooms on her lips before my eyes.

“Yeah, they said her vitals are becoming more stable which is good. They’re amazed that her injuries weren’t worse, they said that she got lucky,” she explains, and it sounds like music to my ears. The first good thing I’ve heard tonight, albeit this whole affair only taking up the last hour of my life. It’s felt like days on end, not mere minutes. “I’m gonna go and call Chuck to tell him.”

My nod answers her words and Myles leaves with a pat to my back, “I’m gonna go and check on coffees again, maybe food later when you’re feeling like eating,” he announces. My hand finds its way to my curls once again, surely free of snarls now after the number I did on them.

“It’s good to see you here. Well, not good given the reason why, but you know what I mean.”

Looking up, I find Robbie’s bleary blues pointed at me. I do all that I can, and that’s a nod.

“You too,” I manage at the last moment, patting his arm awkwardly. His feet wander back over to a line of chairs, and I follow him. Falling into the one left of him, a hushed silence surrounds us.

“Did she ever tell you that she has ‘feelings’ about things?” Robbie mutters, a sniffle interrupting his question at times.

“Ya,” I sigh, my bottom lip numb from my teeth pressing into it from all directions. “Good and bad feelings.”

“Yeah . . I got one that I couldn’t shake tonight,” he reveals. His eyes flooded with glassy tears surprise me again, and I almost see her sitting in front of me. A memory from one of our times at the hospital threatens to break loose from the confines of my mind, but I hold it back. “So I rang her, she was just leaving work . . with you. She sounded so happy, and I couldn’t figure out why I’d gotten it. Now, I know . . ,” he finishes, an ironically melancholy laugh bringing his revelation to an end. “Twin intuition, I guess.”

“Ya,” I mutter again, unsure of what else to say. I can’t figure out what to think sitting here in my puddle of tears, let alone something something to fucking say.

“I hated hearing that bloke say those things, detailing all of the shit that happened to her,” Robbie notes aloud, and I find that I can’t tear my eyes away from my hands when I hear the unmistakable sound of tears letting loose. “But I mean . . it helped, and I think I have a feeling she’ll be alright.”

Conflicting tears run races down the slopes of my cheeks, drenching my eyelashes with liquid sadness. It does little to calm the hammering inside of my chest, but the mannerisms of hers I hear in his voice magnify it just slightly. The brash taste of iron spills across my tongue, and I release my bottom lip from its grasp, but it’s too late because the blood is flowing. My hands blur beneath my eyes, the shocks of baby pink and pastel purple burning in my eyes. The very fingers that she held between her own so delicately just last night, swiping the nail polish brush over their naked canvases. Every other is a different pastel wash of color, and I can still picture the bright yellow and teal that I had painted on hers.

The warm metallic taste concentrates on my taste buds when my lips press together harshly, few salty tears finding their way into my mouth with my new sob.

“Yer sista, she- I-,” I stop quickly, not even sure of what I’m saying. I could tell a thousand stories, but I can’t decide which one is right.

“I know, believe me,” Robbie insists, and at last, I glance over to him. Her dark chocolate locks fall over his forehead, longer than from the first and only time I met him at my firm years ago. The fringe tickles at his eyes, and he pushes it out of his face. “You have something else, you two. I’ve only been telling her to jump your bones for the last two or so years,” he divulges, and a laugh so out of the ordinary adorns my lips. It sputters to a stop, feeling wildly inappropriate, but it comes back to life when a similar one echos from beside me.

His eyes meet mine briefly, and hold me there looking into her blue eyes as we chuckle together. It doesn’t necessarily feel right, because it feels oh so very wrong. When that thought worms its way into my attic, the sound floats away from the both of us quickly.

“I heard it all, you know. Your story’s out,” he tells me matter of factly, but the sarcasm can’t find a place in his voice. It falls away, forgotten. “I told her it was about goddamn time you two started dating. She should’ve listened to me sooner, but no, she’s too fucking stubborn.”

“Yer tellin’ me,” I hum, running the pad of my thumb over the glossy nail polish. If I focus hard enough, blocking out the ringing of the phones and Skye’s hushed voice, I can hear her laugh in the recesses of my mind. Laughing about messing up my pink thumb last night, alarm raised in her honey-like voice. “‘m not much betta, ‘m afraid. I didn’t even get t’ ask her on tha first date, she beat me t’ it.”

“I heard . . That sounds like her, always gotta be in control. She had to do everything first when we were little. Talk first, walk first, ride a bike without stabilisers, or graduate bloody uni first,” Robbie remarks, dragging the sole of his Old Skool mustard Vans along the edge of his leftie. “I dunno how she’s gonna fair having her dominant arm in a cast, she’ll throw a fit.”

“Oh, I know. They betta make it purple,” I comment, and he snickers beside me, the tears still falling although silently.

“She’ll make them do it all over again if they didn’t do it right the first time. It better look all perfect for Ree.”

His tears drill into my ears, yanking at my heart, but a small relief accompanies them. He’s not using past tense, and although hardly noticeable, it makes this bearable. I’ve spoken to the bloke only once in my life, and she was there beside me then, but I find it easier with every second. Save for the moments I peek at him and see traces of her painted all over him. They aren’t bleeding twins for nothing, I admit quietly, even noticing them wearing the same brand of shoes. A pang attacks my heart when I see him spinning the braided silver ring around his middle finger, and too quickly, I could picture it being hers.

“D’ya think she’ll . . ,” I begin, but it feels wrong from the start, and I wish it’d never begun. With a shake of my head, I pick off a piece of purple nail polish from my pinkie. The action ricochets around in my chest, and I blink hard at the searing action. No, I can’t, because there’s a chance that she won’t be there to fix it.

“It sounds rubbish, but our feelings are always right, Ree and I. With our dad, her with you, and me knowing something was going to happen tonight. Now, I think it’ll be okay. Stupid, I know, but I just do. I-I can’t . . . can’t think about her not being okay, she’s my . . . twin sister. I don’t want to think about it,” he confesses in between scattered tears, words growing thick and indistinct.

“Neitha can I,” I admit, my chest falling at the end when more tears break loose from their gates. “She can’t leave, n-not this early. There’s so much I want with her still. She’s made a damn good lawyer already, and I know she’d make a betta mum and-.”

“She will, there’s nothing she’s not good at,” Robbie concurs with a sad smile adorning his face. I blink, and it’s gone as soon as it had come. “She always got back up after she fell too, on our bikes, ice skating, or even with leaving uni and then going back. Working at your firm too, you could even say. I just- I really want to believe that she’ll get back up from this too.”

“Me too . . mo’ than anythin’,” I agree aloud, shuffling my gray rose ring up and down the length of my finger as I picture the flower that adorns her wrist. “I need Becks t’ be okay.”

Phoebe and Joey flit across the screen in front of me, laughs and smiles shared on their faces. My head falls at the realization that those are the furthest things I could feel right now, or do. Licking my chapped lips, another tear graces my tongue. They’re fewer now, however long it’s been that I’ve been sitting in this chair. Asher waits with wandering eyes a few seats over now, and somehow, I’ve only said two words to him. It sends crashing pain through my insides to look at Robbie, her literal twin, but when I look at Asher, avalanches of grief fall inside of me.

The images in front of me spark memory after bittersweet memory, and they try to whisk me away to a time where I was sitting in a chair like this and she was at my side laughing. Shaking my head, I find it in my hands once again, their three voices murmuring off to the side while devouring subs with Myles.

Somehow, it’s already late. The sky is pitch black outside, and the stars twinkling somewhere that I can’t find. My eyes droop and yawns leave me occasionally, but sleep couldn’t be further away. If it was knocking at my door, I’d ignore it then too. There were few updates, and each one sounded more hopeful, but I’m afraid to get my hopes up. I’ve done that far too many times concerning her, and nine times out of ten, it left me broken. I hope that I can curb that if maybe I don’t get excited, and yet, saying goodbye to the hope fuels the fire killing me off on the inside.

I want to turn it off, but I can’t find the remote. I wish I could turn all of this off, but I don’t know how. I can’t let myself fall asleep. No, not until she wakes up, and they just left minutes ago saying she was done in the OR after a successful surgery. I was surprised by how little it had phased me, seeing how Skye jumped to her feet and Robbie was all smiles. Myself though, I couldn’t seem to find one anywhere. I can’t find him. Me. I felt Myles watching me, and worrying. I knew she would be doing the same thing if this was all different, and I couldn’t count how many times I had wished for that truth by now.

I wished that this could all be different, and alas, here I am too scared to believe it could be. The fear debilitates me with every waking second to believe that things could be okay. I’m so afraid to believe that she’ll be alright, because this all seems so sick and that it changes with every corner I turn.

The rest of the episode passed before my absent eyes, and then Skye was coming back from seeing her in Recovery. Tears plastered her cheeks now, more than before, and they didn’t shy away from mine either.

“You should go and see her,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be honest, i-it’s awful seeing her like that, b-but . . . it’s her. She’s okay.”

Words flee from my lips, replaced with an adamant shake of my head. I can’t even meet her eyes, because the only ones I can see are Becky’s. Now, I try to push them out of my head as I stare at my feet, the splashes of pink and purple begging for my attention. The color I so deeply crave is only within her eyes, and with a whimper, I try to will the image back to me. I fail, and the tears fall harder down my cheeks, making me wish I could be peppering kisses along hers.

I’m on my feet before I know what I’m doing, or where I’m going. The instructing words from before repeat between my ears, pulling my feet around a corner and then another. They take me left, and then right. A long hall appears in front of me, and then I’m searching the walls. Numbers climb and climb until I find the very ones I’m looking for. A sob splashes against my palm when it comes to my lips, pressing hard against my mouth.

208, it reads but that’s not what I see.

February 8th is what I see staring back at me. The day of our first date, only three days ago. How in the hell has it only been three days since? How in the living fuck has it only been three hours since all of this has happened?

My feet freeze in their path, and I ignore the nurses and doctors passing me, zig zagging from room to bloody room. Beeping wanders into my ears, and I painfully wonder which one is hers. Which one of those beeps is from her heart? Will it come to an abrupt stop and bring people rushing to her? Can she even hear it? No, she probably can’t, she’s still ‘asleep,’ or so they said.

I don’t think I’m ready. No, I can’t be. How in the bleeding world could I be ready to see what I’m about to witness? I couldn’t ever be ready for this, and I never wanted to be. I never wanted to be having these thoughts living in my head, more than mere doubts and nightmares planted there randomly. Alas, I know why they’re there, and not for the reason I think first. No.

I worry.

I fear.

I cry.

I doubt.

I struggle for breath.

I grieve.

I sob.

I ache.

Because I love.

No, not loved.

I love.

All of these emotions and signs of pain course through me, one after the other, because I love that girl lying in that bed just behind those curtains. I love her, and I’ve known it all along. It’s what brought me here, in every way possible. It’s what propels me forward when the nurse at the computer nods, sliding open the gray curtain. It’s what pulls my eyes to the bed, and to the false sounds of breathing. Love is what wrenches the sobs from my chest at the appearance of wires, tubes, and machines hooked up to her. Love is the force that spins me around and makes me shoot down the hall, crumpling to the floor once I reach the corner by the vending machine. Love is what fills my tears that carry images of her lying in that bed fighting for her life. Love fights within myself as my entire body is racked with sobs while I curl into a ball, wishing that seeing wasn’t believing.

“‘m alright if yer alright, Becks . . . B-But ‘m not alright.”

My eyes continue to play tricks on me, but once I blink back the swarm of tears drowning in them, I find that this actually can get worse. Far worse. Their familiar glances shoot over to me and I don’t return them, ignoring the tears staining my skin. They disperse, but he remains there in the center of the waiting room, eyes on me. When I meet those sad blues at last, the newest sob is welcomed by my lips. In a blur, his arms welcome me and I let them.

“It’s okay,” he croons against my ear, but my head shakes ‘no’s’ again and again into his unfamiliar shoulder.

“But ‘s not. She’s not okay . . doesn’t even look like her in there. There’s so many wires and tubes and-,” my ragged breaths cut me off in time as his large hands clap against my back.

“She’ll be okay. She’s a fighter, Harry, always has been. She’s already fighting hard, I see.”

“I wanted so fookin’ badly t’ think that this was all a dream, b-but then I saw her and . . . ‘s not,” I whimper, a new smell surrounding me as I clutch onto the back of his cold windbreaker.

“Boops has been a fighter ever since she was born, Harry. Did she ever tell you that?”

“No . . tell me what?” I return, my heart crashing around wildly inside my ribs, about to break free at a moment’s notice.

“Her and Robbie had to stay in the hospital for a week after they were born,” Chuck narrates, his large palms pressed to my trembling back. “Not Ree, though, she was in and out. It only took her four days to figure everything out - how to breathe properly, eat, and even shit. But Robbie, he took a week. She was smaller too, but somehow she beat all the odds. They say that there’s typically a smaller twin who doesn’t get as much nutrition and the like while in the womb. They don’t have as good of chances thriving outside of the womb, but lookie there. Ree amazed us all, and she’s continued to do so ever since, Harry. I don’t think she’ll disappoint us today either, son,” he finishes, pulling away to cup my face with his palm. The Holte Blues stare back at me, and I catch her features mirrored in his. He nods at me with lips pressed into a flat line, and I see the tears welling in front of the blue as he pats my cheek.

“Yer daughter, Chuck, I-.”

“I know you do, that’s why you’re here . .That’s why you’re so scared, and I’m rather damn positive she does too,” he returns, ending his words with a wink.

I love her . . more than there are stars in the sky, and more than there are beats of my heart.

I had lost track of how many episodes I had watched of The Office on the telly, but it was wasted, because the images cut in and out in front of my absent eyes. The voices of those around me trickled through when I wasn’t battling with myself. I had long since ignored the gurgling of my stomach, and the buzzing of my phone. The only thing that finally woke me from my drowning senses was when Skye rushed into the room, jittery from the four coffees she'd downed.

“She passed her vent test to come off it and is breathing on her own!” she exclaims, rather close to jumping for joy. Robbie soon finds himself caught in her embrace, and during my escape, I whiz past them and down the hall.

“Becks,” I mumble under my breath, scratching at my cheek as the first new tears in the last half hour arrive in my tired eyes. I ignore their trailing voices, and the new sounds I’ve been drowning out.

I rush past people and their stares, prying and not. Their eyes question me, and I don’t stop, craving the eyes that I’ve been without for far too long. Her blues. But I don’t find them when I delve into that room for the second time in three hours. Yet, I’m met with something miraculous all of the same.

Most of the wires have disappeared from her body, and the tubes previously hidden in her throat are as well. The first hints of relief wash over me when I take another step, and then another until she’s within reach. It’s not the same and not how I pictured it, but there she is, just a step away. I’m so fucking glad it’s not like one of the ways I had thought of. Her skin is warm underneath my lips, singing praises behind my eyes. The splashes of blues and reds painting her face pull thick streams of tears onto my cheeks as I press kisses to hers. Steady breaths of hers tickle my skin, sprouting the first smile in hours on my lips.

It’s my Becks.

It’s her, my girl.

Prickly stitches smatter her skin in places, but I avoid them as I run my fingers through her hair, brushing it off of her angelic face. A whimper escapes from my lips for a second, silenced by my hand as her face grows hazy from interrupting tears. My tears fall onto her ghost like skin, the remnants of orange blossoms speckled here and there.

“‘m here, and yer alright. Everythin’s gonna be alright, my Becks,” I murmur against her forehead, peppering kisses to the freckles hidden amongst her skin. “‘m not goin’ anywhere, bug,” I finish, voice catching on the last word when I’m reminded of her saying the very same thing to me earlier today. “And neitha are you. Y-Ya keep yer promises too . . dontcha, Rebecca Ann? . . An episode o’ FRIENDS came on earlier in tha waitin’ room . . it was our favourite one, ‘Tha One at tha Beach.’ I didn’t wanna watch it without you . . it hurt too much t’, b-but I shoulda known it was a sign that you’d be okay. And now, here ya are, me li’l fighta.”

“I think . . I think I love you, Becks . . I dunno when I even decided that, seems ‘s been that way fer a while,” I confess into her hair, finalizing my words with another peck to her dark chocolate waves. “Please wake up so I can tell you, li’l one . . ‘ll be waitin’ here ‘til ya do.”

The only response I receive is the steady beating of the monitors sitting at her side. I watch them, sniffling, entranced by the numbers that vary only a few. A calmness washes over me as I lace my fingers with those of her left hand, careful of the wires, while watching the steady numbers. My eyes flit back to her, hidden underneath plain white blankets, and the pain makes a return to me once again. I know it’s all masked under there, the multitudes of stitches, casts, gauze, and brokenness. Injuries that I can’t fathom, no more than when that nurse breathed life into them in the waiting room.

“Ya said yest’day at me house that it was scary t’ admit how ya felt ‘bout me, and bloody hell, ‘s this scary t’ admit t’ you . . Last night I was thinkin’ ‘bout what our kids would look like. ‘m gettin’ ahead o’ meself, I know, only been on two dates so far,” I laugh ever so softly, thumbing at my ticklish nose while the whispers drop from my lips. Circles and curly mazes are left on her hand where my thumb draws them gently, even her name left there in invisible ink. “I hope mo’ than anythin’ they’d have yer gorgeous blue eyes, and prolly some perfect combo o’ our brown hair . . I hope they’d have yer cute li’l dimple, and yer beautiful laugh. Bet they’d be smart like you too, bug, and have yer drive t’ neva give up on sumthin’ . . I dunno if we’d be here if ya hadn’t given up on me . . and I promise you ‘m not ever gonna give up on you, Becks. Never . . ‘ll tell ya ‘bout all tha rest when ya wake up in tha mornin’. Sweet dreams, sleepyhead,” I announce, swallowing against my throat akin to a dessert.

Antiseptic and unfamiliarity greets my nose when I lay one last kiss on her forehead, careful of the nasal cannula across her cheeks. The feet of the metal chair squeal when I pull the chair closer to the bed, her hand limp in mine. Shocks of teal and yellow prick at my eyes, bringing the smallest of smiles to my face with a harsh gulp.

Wiping my nose with the back of my hand, my eyes scan over her obsessively, and lovingly. Underneath the strange blue gown, her chest rises and falls while her fingers remain warm in mine. I settle into the chair, adjusting it until I can lay my arm on the empty patch of bed at her side like a ninety degree angle. There, I lay my head, lulled into a quick sleep by her slow breathing, finally assured that she’s alright.

Only because of that, am I alright too.

My dreams had whisked me away, but it wasn’t for nearly long enough. I couldn’t know how long it had been. At the same time, it was too long and yet, not long enough. I didn’t know that I’d be grateful for waking up, and yet at the same time, the bittersweetness would make me yearn for my ignorant dream world once again.

I’m woken by the feeling of something touching me, and as I slowly come to, I find it’s somebody playing with my hair. As sleep begins to drip off the edges of my subconscious, I can only wonder who that could be, until I suddenly know. My eyes fly open and flit to the face peering down at me. Her’s, and yet, it’s not.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she murmurs in a scratchy voice, propelling my body upwards within a second.

“B-Becks!” I stammer, blinking hard in between rubbing at my eyes quickly, trying to decide if what I’m seeing is real. I find it hard to figure out what I want to be real, glimpsing again the bruises and cuts brandishing her face.

“Hi,” she whispers, trying to smile, but I see that she doesn’t have it in her.

“Becks,” I croak, tears tugging at every breath of the word as my arms go around her, and my face dives into her hair.

“Ouch, careful,” she protests, and profuse apologies fill the air around us. “It’s okay,” she insists, the wires getting caught between us and my body surrounding hers.

I back up instantly at the sound of her painful words, but it’s the very last thing I want to do. Touching her and wrapping her up in my arms has been the only thing I’ve wanted to do this entire time, ever since I got the call. Reality blanketing me sends thick sobs from me, and into her hair that doesn’t even smell like her anymore. The smell of orange blossom and vanilla is absent, and it continues to make this entire thing worse. It makes it too surreal, more real than I can handle.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she hums gently, a crackly sound to her labored voice. Her hands although dainty before, leave ghostlike trails on my back, adding another tally to the surrealness board.

“D’ya rememba w-who I am?” I ask hurriedly, pulling away to find her exhausted eyes searching for mine. A corner of her chapped lips just barely curls into her cheek, the always present pink color fleeting in the moment.

“Of course, you’re . . my Harry,” she mumbles with a long, tired blink. The mere five words pull thicker sobs from my lips. I just glimpse the beginnings of tears in her eyes when I return to her arms that beckon for me.

“‘m so glad yer okay, Becks, so glad. I was bloody terrified ya wouldn’t be,” I confess into the warm crook of her neck, finding a trace of her fruity-vanilla scent tucked away there.

“Me too, Harry,” she comments a few seconds too late, marked by a clearing of her throat. Although I’m not much better, I hear the evident struggle in her voice like she’s woken up after sleeping, but I know that the raspiness clouding her voice isn’t from that. It’s from the tube that was shoved down her throat to breathe for her, and probably caused the worst sore throat in existence.

She hardly feels the same, body marked by wires and tubes, a scratchy gown, and an abrasive cast all along her right arm. Prickly threads dot her body in places where the glass left cuts too deep to leave, and the antiseptic smell of a hospital sticks to her all over. I want to hold her against me, to squeeze her all over until I know that she’s real and that this isn’t just a dream. The kiss I press to the top of her head is marred by the smell of iron, and the crusty feeling of blood hidden among her hair. The next one I leave on her forehead is better, and the warmth of her skin under my touch scores a point for reality, although a harsh one.

“D’ya rememba . . what happened?” I wonder aloud, painfully. My heart, too shocked from the last several hours, doesn’t even budge when the sight of her again astonishes me. Her swollen left eye is surrounded by blue and purple bruises that paint her face in places.

She nods her head up and down, until her face creases with presumed pain and she stops. My hand covers her entire cheek that I rub with the pad of my thumb, back and forth, back and forth.

“I don’t know. . I only remember saying goodbye to you, and then . . talking to the nurse now. I’m glad that’s the last thing . . I remember,” she replies slowly, the words fleeing her lips at times.

“Y-yer amazin’, y’know that?” I sigh, the tears ever so present, and I’m unsure of when they’ll ever make their departure. A laugh tries to sound from her lips, but not even within a few seconds, her face is overcome with anguish. “Hey, are ya okay?”

“It hurts, but she gave me something.”

“Where’s it hurt, bug?” I question, eyes dancing across her body mostly covered by the thick hospital blankets.

“Everywhere,” she exhales, sounding short of breath. My lips stray to her forehead once more to leave a peck there, unsure of what more I could do. “Mostly my head . . arm, and tummy.”

“Ya, that’s . . . where they cut ya open t’ fix ya up. And . . ya got a pretty nasty concussion, and a broken arm. It was a good thing ya were wearin’ yer seatbelt, love,” I tell her, struggling to resist covering her in kisses. If only that were the antidote for fixing all of this, for fixing her. I would do it in a heartbeat if it made all of this go away, as if it never happened.

“Always,” she almost smiles, making my heart flutter. A smile tugs at my lips as I admire her, sure I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life, or bittersweet. She adjusts the nasal cannula feeding her additional oxygen, and I just hope it’s enough. I hope that this is all enough, and that so am I.

Her heavy eyes drift closed, but the second they do, they flutter open again. They wander back to me and a stronger smile pulls at her lips, mimicking the same motion on the strings of my heart.

“Don’t fight it, baby, get some rest,” I coo, stroking my fingers through her hair to move it away from her face, careful in doing so.

“I’m okay . . I want to stay with you, Harry,” Becks admits gently, licking her dry lips. A sound of disbelief leaves mine.

“Always so selfless, you are.”

“I’m sorry,” she yawns, wincing again at another wave of pain, making me step forward. If I try to again, there aren’t any more that I can take, regardless of the wishful thought that I have to slip into bed with her. “I can’t imagine how . . upset and scared you’ve been,” she apologizes, reaching a hand out to find mine, and it causes my heart to seize with a dose of happiness.

“No, don’t you apologize. None o’ this ‘s yer fault, ‘s tha asshole who hit you whose fault it ‘s. Yer doin’ so good, Becks, ‘m . . . so fookin’ happy ya came back t’ me . . so proud. My Becks,” I say, smiling through the tears washing out my words. I see the smallest hint of the dimple in her left cheek when they round out from the tiniest of smiles.

“I’ll always . . come back to you, Harry,” she smiles, and I give in, dipping to press my lips to hers. She may smell different, feel different, and even taste different, but the kiss makes me sure that this is my same Becks, and that this isn’t all a dream. Regardless of the fact that I wish it all was just a made-up dream that I could wake up from, I’m okay with the fact that it isn’t, as long as my girl is okay.

Finally, she’s my girl.

And finally, she’s okay.

My Becks.

A/N: Hello, lovely people! Okay.... I am SO sorry for that, but thanks for sticking through it.. I promise Becks will be okay, I would never break up Hecky like that. I apologize for no real content warnings, I didn’t know how to do that without ruining the chapter... Also, please cut me some slack if I get any medical things wrong or they’re unrealistic, I’m not a doctor and I’m doing my best with what Google can give me and from personal experience in hospitals. Thanks SO much for reading all this way into the story, I mean it when I say I’m excited for you to see what’s going to happen! Feel free to visit my askbox if you want to talk after this rollercoaster of a chapter, I feel you. I’d LOVE to talk to anybody about Hecky anytime, or if you want a sneak peek of next week’s chapter lemme know! Make sure to check out the Hecky playlist - although it’s long, I think it has some great tunes on there that remind me of our fav couple! I admittedly had it playing the whole time I was making pasta the other day :P Have a great day, ily c:

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coolgirl · 5 years

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Jason expert rate Jason’s designs

sorry for being late i was busy with school but now i’m free so to celebrate. jason indulgence.

pre-crisis not robin

very cute. i like that it has a lil more of flair to it? the collar and the lines on the gloves and the shorter cape.. also love it has pants. king rlly king. wonder if they already knew he was gonna be robin anyways or if they were still considering nightbird. anyways, 8/10 bc its cute

pre & post-crisis robin (bc its basically the same)

i mean its a classic.. however it reminds me jason was the only robin who was simply given dick’s clothes rather than like. have an unique look? which sucks. 7/10 middle child syndrome is REAL

post-crisis robin (winter edition)

OKAY NOW THIS. i absolutely love. is it tacky? oh yes without a doubt. i still love the pants and the sleeves. finally winter clothes for this child, especially considering his new titans scene where he was bitching about the costume not being snow proof. he got what he wanted! 9/10

new 52/rebirth costume by

EPIC. IDC I LOVE IT.the circles on his arms and his boots.. the lines on his legs.. i just love it. i love the red mask too… it feels.. not more unique, but feels more jason-y than the other costume. 10/10

NOW. onto older stuff

hush

as u can see im VERY confusion about the pouches and the straps?? why??? whats the purpose.. generally its fine. the white strand moved a nation and i think the chest piece is cool, but everything else.. uglee. like the long as hell jacket and him looking 40 years old like why r u 19 looking like fifty? ugly white man. 5/10

winicks/utrh version

LITERALLY A CLASSIC. i love this costume sooo much. like jason obviously grew out of it, as in it wouldnt make sense for him anymore to go with something like this as his main costume because i feel like this fit the utrh mood (him not veing a vigilante/hero/villain whatver but trying to be a mob boss n shit) and it just. fucks. i love the helmet just being plain with no stupid mouth or nose shape. i simply love it. 10/10

nigthwing

its just. its just the nightwing costume. didnt even try he just stole that from dick. he still rocks it and looks better than dick, and u gotta give him points for accessorizing with his dagger. 7/10

red robin

im not. a big fan of this costume.. i think the cowl is ugly, it just does not work for someone as big as jason… however i do like why he took this mantle and what it meant.. 6/10 no words head empty.

oh brother. furryman

ITS SUCH AN UGLY COSTUME. muzzle batman walked so muzzle red hood could run. its just. ugly like ugly. i dont like the ears or again the muzzle or whatever the hell is going on in the arms.. its just so edgy. 5/10

WANNA KNOW WHAT A SEXY EVIL BATMAN COSTUME LOOK LIKE?

Injustice 2 batman

I2 HAD IT IN THE BAG BABY. i like that its like classic batman costume but again! with some jason touches! the red eyes, the electric tiddies making a comeback.. epic genuinely epic. 10/10

and if ur not into evil jason

100% dad ‘i have my life figured out’ batman jason

just like the nightwing costume this is just. batman costume. nothing special or different from it so its like did u even try? BUT in this scenario it actually means smth that he stuck to bruces costume.. sweet.. but boring. 7/10

speaking of. evil ugly designs. ugh i hate this.

this motherfucker

ive never. ever. felt as humiliated by a costume than thetime jason wore this. like MORTIFYING RLLY. its DISGUSTINGGG. the helmet shape. the fucking WHITE. the SKULL PLEASE WHO DESIGNED THIS WHO HATES ME IN PARTICULAR SO MUCH??? THIS MAN DOES NOT FUCK! HES UGLY! HE STINKS!!!! the red guns are epic that much i can say. LOOK AT THOSE PANS GOD ITS SO HUMILLIATING. 0/10 WORST COSTUME EVER.

HOWEVER. winick and the artist spun GOLD from it, because next time jason wore possibly my favorite costume to date

this motherfucker…2!

like look how much better it looks with a little of swag.. the helmet without eyes.. the belts.. the fucking leather jacket.. keeping the red guns/gloves.. like seriously i dont know a better man. the skull is still awful and i wouldve replaced the white for black and MWAH best costume. like the black part at the top make it all red and the white make it black.. god this jason fucks massively i love him. 11/10 my favorite by a landslide perhaps

new 52/rebirth red hood

OKAY I KNOW theyre slightly different (rebirth has shorter sleeves and a more padded look) but to me its like. same thing. okay i think its.. fine. its not phenomenal but its not ugly.. i like the brown jacket more than the black jacket i have to admit, its more distinctive and i simply like the color more, however i do not.. like jason having the bat symbol.. but thats also a me thing about how badly written this is. anyways. the helmet with the mouth disgusts me and everytime its drawn like that its humilliating. like. 7/10. maybe 7+. when it has the mouth or like nose ANY FACIAL EXPRESSION RLLY its a 5.

wingman

oh i absolutely despise that helmet. he looks like fucking. terminator. its the ugliest shape ive ever seen and the visor is.. huge. i dont like the shoulder pads either idk what the fuck its going on with the thing around his neck either.. like hes. knockout batman and i HATEEE IT. damians costume slaps tho. i just… its… ugly. like.. 3/10.

get damian back arc red hood costume

oh im a HUGE fan of this design.i love how his costume is designed in a way thats like. if jason was a dnd character he absolutely would be a tank. the padding, the red undertones everywhere, i just.. love it. i like how all the costumes were done to reflect their personalities you know.. i like this robin red hood hybrid. 9/10 would even say 10/10 bc i just enjoy how gleason draws jason.

red hood/arsenal costume

its like. i dont hate it completely (i love the way the hood+helmet looks) and thats.. yeah thats pretty much all i like about it. i HATEEEE the vest i hate it fr.i hate how huge the sumbol is and idk this costume just does not spark joy. 5/10

outlaw costume

okay this one. this one drives me insane. because like. okay i dig parts of it. i like the lack of sleeves. i like the gloves thingies. i like the hood. i could get aboard him ditching the helmet - it breaks all the damn time anyways. i like the stripes on his pants in the boots. ALL SEPARATE? NEAT. now i hate. hate. the muzzle. like WHY IT LOOKS SO UGLYYY LIKE SO UGLY like unless the artist GETS IT and is SEXY it looks awful. look at this

AWFUL. also like it made sense for when he was on the run and he had to make do and assemble a costume from what he had but like now hes sponsored by lex, get that man a goddamn new suit already please. anyways. 6/10.. like i said i like many elements from it but its still.. kinda ugly all together and depends A LOT on the artist.

three jokers

im torn on this one.. i think its a bit boring.. i dont rlly like the top part, it reminds me SOO much of that one tt issue where he beat the fuck out of tim while wearing a robin costume like i understad the implications of him wearing a costume thats similar to the robin blouse but im not a big fan.. also i prefer the brown leather jacket. its like not his worst costume by far but not the best.. like pretty basic? i would say 6/10

NOW SOME AUS.

tiny titans & lil gotham

okay these two are like. pretty much the canon versions of robin and red hood HOWEVER they both have details that are different from the original version and DESERVE a mention. the curls on robin jason and jasons red gloves/belt are ICONIC. whoever designed them knew what they were about, so 10/10 best bapy jason.

arkham knight

does the person who designed this know how much theyve done for the lgbt community? i hope they do. i love.. a lot about this costume. i love the ears, i love how techno it is, i love the layers to it.. im.. not a big fan of the whole military thingy but i have to admit that applying it to the design itself is kind of neat.. i love the colors too and how.. practical it is while being. well. kinda dramatic? the whole bat aesthetic.. yeah. i love it. 9/10

arkham red hood

this one.. when u think about it the outlaw version is VEEERY similar to this one: the pants, the hood, the jacket eve. however i like this helmet so much more, i have a weakness for eyeless (??) helmets.. i like the little details of it as well, i remember that pic going around of it being held together with like. fuckign stitches and bandaids. legendary. i love this look, i would say 9+/10

injustice 2 jason

okay gonna go ahead and say it: not a big fan of the helmet. it looks like.. a bug? the lenses do not spark joy. this bitch has many styles and like toners etc and i will no rate them all. i think its a pretty basic design, not the best but not the worst either. like if it was an exam i would make them pass but make faces at what im reading like eeehhhgh. 7/10.

hag jason

middle one is like literally, on the outside and superficial level, just. his usual costume. the jacket and the grey kevlar and the bat. now the gloves are sexy as hell.. and in the whit ebackground one u can appreciate the under costume better and i really like it?? i just.. like the design. I HATE HOWEVER the bat helmet. WHY IS IT HOLLOW?? BITCH HELLO?? AND THE BATMAN SYMBOL DOES NOT MAKE SENSE! and i like things making sense!!!. we will not talk about jason in this book. like.. 8/10. maybe 9 if im feeling it.

hag jason 2: the hagger and the furious

hes just.. a little old man.. he cannot change this.. i like this design. i like seeing jason grow old. wish it wasnt in this context. my father rlly. 8/10

—-

am i forgetting any jays.. i wont do all animated robins because they all look the same and the one that doesnt i do not like. SO HERES my thoughts..

#Anon #jason todd #jason.txt #THIS has been my weekly jason rant. come back next week for more

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mothmansrevolt · 4 years

Photo

some doodles i did for my loz story (thats in the works, everything is planned i just gotta sit down and write. Below the cut is some of my jabbering on about them, spoilers if i ever write the fic. well not really spoilers but more background stuff and me talking bout the story in general. Not that important i just wanted it all somewhere.

Second pic is older! Mist fairies are actually fog fairies, specific to the foglands. They are savage to all those without a magic signature similar to foglanders and have teleportation abilities when in large groups. That is all i will say. Soruspiris are containers for souls. regular fairy looks fluffy and i don't know why... Zelda's doodle was just here because i wanted to draw her. She's a fallen angel I guess. IDK Link actually can hide a lot of spiris on him as well, especially in his hat. Alright, Iarta is the spirit of the Soul's Bane Blade (or Soul Stealer), or Link's main weapon. She has acted as a sort of caretaker and teacher besides Link's grandmother, who often travelled herself. Honestly I just wanted to draw Iarta and baby Link. This is in no means her final design. I've been struggling with what she looks like (and the other sword spirits for that matter), most of them look similar, specifically her, the Statue's End, and the Twin Blades. I thought she'd have a few different forms as she does mainly fight for Link in a physical sense but IDK. As for the embroidery on the cloak and sash, Link does hand embroidery, specifically small runes to add minimal enchantment to clothing for protection and other such things. Verin's sash has ones for I think it was protection and good luck? Link's are mainly weather protection and elemental protection as well as to prevent fog fairies from ripping it to shreds. Ganon is making an appearance because of another drawing I was doing and was trying to remember what he looked like (spoiler I still didn't know and just pulled up a pic. he's the most inconsistent looking character I'm so sorry. I'm trying to figure it out along with Zelda who is basically consistently changing appearances in the story anyway). His scar on his face would technically be from before the story occurred, since he's a trained fighter more than anything. Also in an older pic, the first one i posted of him, I'd like to note that those swords (i see now that they are sickles, im so sorry) are not his main ones. Spoiler but they break. He's supposed to weild the twin blades, not those. That picture is a goddamned mess cause he has the goddess's scars (don't question the name its what my notes say) and swords that are broken at that point. As well, he wouldn't be in the gerudo desert? So yeah. A mess. Alright, Koddila! My favorite bird mom! She's here because I need practice drawing ritos. Yeah i stuck with the botw esque design concept cause they're my favorite overall though I deviated from the consistent fashion in which rito dress in that game (i sat in that village and fucking studied those clothes. no joke). She's notably a warrior though so she has the shoulder thingies. Verin, the zora father Link did not want, probably did not need, but still got, is honestly here because I have never drawn a zora before and will never try again. He's supposed to be scarred and battle worn, having lived a tired life or something. He just wants Link to stop doing stupid stuff and almost getting himself killed, weird foglander magic be damned. Sorry for rambling. The story's outline is being edited right now. Specifically, i've summarized every chapter im going to write and am adding and taking details right now. My friend told me i could've made it multiple books if i wanted to explore more of the world, but at that point I made the story on a time crunch and I'm sad I did so. Souls of Power was originally designed as if I were concepting and creating a world for a video game, a map and everything. Hell, I'd even jokingly written out whistle mechanics for calling Spiris and directing them. The world has so much more in it that I'd be writing, from hidden places to cucco racing to the entirety of the damned foglands that Link barely explores. I'm trying to add more of the world into it, but we'll see what I can. I just know that Link's arc got really... well sad. I had to make it different because Link's ending wouldn't be that good at all. So when I publish it, just know Link wasn’t going to have a fun time, but he’s going to get a good ending

#rambling #legend of zelda #loz souls of power #doodles #honestly this is just me talking a bunch #Link couldve been a villian btw #or turned into one #it wouldve been way to sad #so i scrapped that #how hes just generally sad #and ganon is a bit less powerful cause that was an issue with him #both ganon and link that is #link is gonna have severe trust issues by the end of this #i can feel it #but also so many parents #no joke #verin basiclaly adopts him #and everyone knows it #koddila will fight for custody

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oh-theatre · 5 years

Text

Objection!: Chapter 11

Chapter title: Sidebar

A/n: Let me tell you how fucking hard this chapter was to write. I HAD TO REWRITE the court section multiple times because my OCD brain wants it to be as accurate as possible and I still think it's not but whatever. Prinxiety is slowly growing more on me, and im very excited for where they are going cause babies. MMmm Damian, Remus, and Val are my fave characters oops. Anyway! If you have an comments to spare... :)

First | Previous | Next

words: 5020

summary: Roman, against many wishes, wants to return to work and Patton has had enough

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, LIAM, unwelcome actions, kissing, children in court

Ao3 Link

“Damian please be careful!” Roman hears a familiar voice warn down the hall. He pauses the TV, expectantly sitting up as the rushed patter of feet draw near. After a few more moments of waiting, Roman watches as the door slowly slides open. He peers over his bed to reveal a small Damian struggling to push open the door. His little fingers barely pushing the crack open, his chest puffed in an attempt to be strong.

“Nnng got it!” Damian cheers finally getting through, a triumphant look on his face. He looks down the hall waving to an unknown figure. “Look papi! I got it!” He tells the figure, presumably Virgil. Roman has to laugh delighted at Damian. He's very familiar with the phrase bouncing off the walls and no one came close. But Damian? He was really pushing the line.

“Good job Dee” Virgil appears a moment later, doubling over huffing for air. He walks into the room picking up his son in the process. “Sorry Ro, he really wanted to see you” Virgil apologizes, cradling his squirmy son. The boy examines his surroundings, trying his hardest to figure out a way out of his father's grasp. He doesn't have to wait long, however.

“Nonsense!” Roman declares, he adjusts his own position to better suit the young boy. “Come here” He ushers, Virgil gives him a doubtful look before placing Damian on the bed. He wastes no time making his way into Roman's arms, embracing the judge in a hug. Roman swallows the deep pain he feels, hoping the scrunching of his face looks more like excitement. Damian pulls away, sitting cross-legged on the bed opposite Roman.

“How are you feeling?” Virgil asks, his own arms folded in front of him. He looks around the room, his eyes fixated on the monitor. Though he doesn't understand most of what's displayed, the steady beating of Roman's heart does ease Virgil.

“Better, I'm going to work this morning” Roman responds not looking up. He plays chopsticks with Damian, letting him win almost every time. Virgil jerks his head towards Roman, his mouth failing to produce words. With no response, Roman turns his head towards Virgil. “What? The doctor cleared me, Im Gucci to go” He insists, the awful phrasing aside Virgil didn't believe it.

“You can't possibly be serious” Virgil gapes, his voice in a soft whisper as to not alert his oblivious son. Roman ‘loses’ another game of chopsticks, snapping his fingers in defeat. Damian giggles, falling back onto the soft cushioned bed. To their credit, hospital beds were quite comfortable.

“I am, the doctor informed and briefed Joan, so their prepared. There will be a nurse on standby” Roman hope the preparation eases Virgil because whether or not the anxious man wanted it he was going back to work. “I'll be ok Virge” He assures, his focus still on entertaining Damian. Roman was ready to go back to work, after two days of wallowing in the stupid hospital room. It was not a fun place, the walls were frigid, nothing drawing Roman out. Nothing made him feel comfortable, or safe, just...observed.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the car is ready when you are Judge Reial” A nurse pops her head in, Roman smiles at her thankfully, she disappears a moment after.

“Wait! You're leaving now?!” Virgil cries, ignoring the very dramatic undertones. Roman shrugs as Damian ‘helps’ him pack some things away. “Im wondering if you're really stupid” Roman shuts his bag closed. He doesn't mean to startle Damian, he gives him an apologetic look his demeanor softening. Virgil sighs, taking a moment to collect himself. “Im sorry Ro, obviously I didn't mean that...I'm just saying…”

“I got it, I know what you're saying” Roman nods, unable to meet the detective's eyes “And I'm saying, Im fine” He seethes. Damian grows bored of the cryptic talk and stands on the bed, he waddles over to where Virgil stands. Outstretching his arms in a request to be carried, Virgil obliges enveloping his son in a protective hug. Roman finishes packing, sliding his legs out from under the sheets. “I have to...get ready so…” He mumbles looking down at his sad gown. Virgil nods.

“I'll go check you out” He takes Damian with him out of the room, towards the front desk. His head bowed down to avoid witnessing the horrors that take place in this building. He sees enough during work, he didn't need to see anymore.

He checks Roman out pretty quickly but hangs behind for a while longer, gracing the judge with enough time to change. Once at least fifteen minutes have passed he returns, knocking politely before receiving the all-clear.

“RoRo!” Damian throws his hands in the air upon seeing the judge again. Virgil has to admit, he still looks good. Jeans, a red shirt and a jean jacket really fit the judge. Plus, in Virgil's...professional opinion, it was nice to see him in something other than a gown. The scars on Roman's face framed him perfectly, weird, Virgil didn't think they could do that.

“Virge, my eyes are up here” Roman teases watching the detectives gaze. Virgil's eyes shoot up meeting Romans. He coughs, hoisting Damian a little tighter.

“I know, they were just too ugly to look at” Virgil retorts turning around, Roman mocks a gasp. Damian giggles into his hands as the three of them walk towards the front door. “Dee, would you like to ride with Roman?” Virgil asks his son, seeing as they have two cars. Damian, without a second thought, nods practically jumping into Roman's arms. Virgil helps them into the car before waving them off and making his way to his own car.

Before driving off he allowed the silent humming of the engine and the drowned out voices of the news reporters to embrace him. Cradling him in a steady routine, beating rhythmically as they eased his breathing. He took this moment to himself, clean slate. It was just him, it's just you.

~~~

“I do love coffee” Patton smiles, sniffing his freshly brewed cup. Logan watches the tiny tip of his nose scrunching as it does so. He pays the cashier working the cart this morning before leading Patton back towards the main foyer. “I do wish we could stay out here, it's the perfect fall weather. The leaves are changing, it's chilly but not too chilly and the sky is just…” Patton sighs marveling at the vibrant blue color. “It's perfect” He decides, Logan eyes the familiar twinkle in Patton's eyes. It really is, he thinks.

“It's eloquent I suppose” Logan responds, taking his own look at the sky, he bundles up tighter. Patton laughs taking a sip of his coffee, Logan makes a mental note to stop looking at his lips. “I understand the appeal, it is quite pleasant” A gust of wind passes through them, a shiver chilling the bones of Logan's spine. “But yes...chilly” He shivers, Patton smiles linking his arms with Logans. He seizes the palms of his hands currently buried in gloves in his pocket growing sweaty. Patton thinks nothing of it, he continues admiring the environment. As they keep walking, Logan eases, slowly melting into the gesture.

The walk from the coffee cart/courtyard back to the courthouse is a lengthy one. Logan is silently grateful for this, he's not sure what it is but just walking through the path, having a fruitful discussion with Patton, a delectable coffee in his hands. But it's perfect. A small gasp from Patton pulls his attention back.

“Oh, you should see how excited the twins are for Halloween!” Patton remembers. “It's their first Halloween” Logan ponders this for a moment, his face showing the thinking process. “They were too little the last couple of years, we almost went last year but…” Logan nods remembering the incident that had occurred in Patton's neighborhood.

“Well it seems exciting” Logan admits, he wouldn't know, however. His parents never allowed him to go, and he never had any real desire too.

“You should join us!” Patton offers, Logan's heart picks up speed. “It would be fun, we could take them around the neighborhood, get some candy, and then just watch some good movies” Logan listens, it sounds wonderful. He almost longs for that kind of perfect night every night. Logan's face must not have conveyed the same feeling as Patton's next words fell out “You don't have to of course, just an offer and I'm sure the kids would love having you around”

“No Patton, I would very much appreciate that” He rushes not wanting to miss his window or miss a chance at seeing Patton's face light up. “I don't have to...dress up, do I?” He cautions, Patton shakes his head.

“Of course not, I usually wear something simple. A witch hat, little cat ears...but no you don't have to” he smiles. They continue on their way reaching the main foyer. Patton unlinks his arm from Logan much to the lawyer's disappointment. He struggles to remove his jacket, Logan removes his briskly hanging it on the coathanger.

“Here let me” he extends, Patton sighs resigned allowing Logan to help with his coat. He folds it neatly before placing it next to his own.

“Thanks!” Logan gives a short nod.

“Roman, I'm not going to tell you again!” Both lawyers turn their focus to the noise. Virgil stumbles in after a very annoyed looking Roman. “You have to be more careful, you're injuries are still fresh” He reminds, Roman groans throwing his head back.

“Ugh! I know, you keep telling me” Roman moans, as he removes his coat Patton and Logan see a bundled up Damian. Patton awes as Roman handles the boy carefully. The pair make their way to join the others.

“If it isn't your royal highness and his knight in sulking armor” Logan teases, Patton stifles a laugh waving a quick hello to Damian. Roman and Virgil share the same expression towards Logan. “I must ask, what are you doing here Roman?” Logan inquires. Virgil throws his hands up.

“Thank you! See? Logan...agrees?” He questions, Logan shrugs ultimately agreeing with the sentiment of concern Virgil feels. “You shouldn't be here, you should be resting! Getting better!” Virgil shouts, Patton shushes him still watching a very sleepy Damian. Roman rolls his eyes turning sharply towards Virgil. Patton breathes through his teeth, extending his arms towards the young boy. Roman eyes him confused. Patton gives him a sweet smile before Roman finally understands.

“Oh my god, here take him” He huffs handing Damian over delicately. Patton smiles cuddling the young boy, Logan watches. “Now you” Roman turns back to a rather fuming Virgil. “Need to stop, I am fine!” He affirms, Virgil laughs dryly. Patton begins dancing softly in place, humming quietly to Damian, a much-appreciated gesture. Virgil makes a mental note to thank him for that, Damian, much like his father can get stressed or anxious when people fight or are loud.

“Too loud” Damian moans staring at Roman and his father. Patton nods sympathetic, he shares a glance with Logan. “They won't stop” He complains, Patton takes a deep breath eyeing the front desk.

“Im going to go check in” Patton decides, telling the squabbling pair. Virgil nods, shooting his own apologetic look to his son. Patton, promptly followed by Logan, makes his way to the front desk still cradling a sleepy Damian. “Good morning Jen” He greets the receptionist, she gives him a half-hearted smile. Logan works on checking both the lawyers and the judge in, making sure to gain visitors pass for Damian and Virgil.

“I wish it was Mister Hart” She sighs, leaning her head against her chin as she works on the computer. Patton and Logan glance at one another, then back at Jenny. She cocks her head wanting to speak but finds herself pointing instead. “I really am sorry Patton, we tried to keep him away but…” Patton follows her point, his breath seizing as his gaze falls onto Liam. He stands only a few feet away, chatting up some officers. At this point, Patton has no more fight in him, the texts, the visits, even the slightly creepy gifts...Patton can't keep doing it anymore.

“Pat? Are you alright?” Logan questions softly, Patton's eyes glaze over. The only feeling of warmth coming from the now snoring child in his arms. His stomach aches, a nervous tug pulling at him. “Patton?” Logan tries again, he makes a point to keep his own voice steady. His own frustration and anger wanting to overwhelm him, to control him. Patton inhales, hoping the cool air frosting his lungs will jolt him back to life.

“Im ok” He responds finally. Logan looks for a sign of whether it was an honest statement or not, finding the blank expression quite hard to analyze. Patton returns his focus back to Logan, his face immediately gaining color. “For now, Im ok” He tells him, Damian shuffles in his arms causing the lawyer to coo at the young boy.

“So tell me, what are the twins dressing up as? For Halloween I mean” Logan questions, Patton looks up at him a slight widening of the eyes. He bites back a flustered smirk nodding.

“Well Valerie wanted to be a princess warrior and Remus wanted to be either a pickle or a duke” Patton explains, Logan smiles at Remus’s request. “So I used an old princes dress we had and some new fabrics to make Valerie's costume, finished it last night” He grins, Logan nods. “Then I used some other costumes and some new material to make a duke outfit for Remus. It's very poofy and green of course” Patton finishes

“Of course” Logan agrees, Pattons chest burns. He continues talking as they return to the now silent Roman and Virgil, fully aware of the intent to distract Patton, Logan had. He was grateful nonetheless, and it worked. Unaware to either that Liam was watching, a sea of envy pooling his stomach.

~~~

“Come in” Patton calls out to the door after a soft knock was heard. The door creaks open in the way that Patton was so used to. Logan's head appears causing a slight giggle to escape Patton. “Hiya Lo, what's up?”

“I uh…” Logan begins, he remains in his position not furthering himself into the room. Patton cocks his head closing his laptop.

“Lo?” Patton asks, Logan takes a deep breath before stepping into the room.

“I brought you a dog” He blurts, and sure enough he had. He lifts his arms to reveal a cubby dog. “This is Kevin, my corgi” Logan informs, Patton squeals at the animal. “Patton are you alright?”

“Yes!! Of course, I'm alright!!” He squeals in delight, he moves around his desk towards the dog. He extends his arms “May I?” He wonders, Logan nods handing over his dog into the lawyer's excited arms. “Oh hello, I love you” He admits as soon as the soft fur tickles his arms. Logan breathes a sigh of relief at the lawyer's smile. “Oh, Lo, he's wonderful” Patton insists, Logan steps forward, petting Kevin's head in Patton's arms.

“I sure like to think so” he coos at the dog, Kevin really had squirmed his way into Logan's heart. “I had Reeve pick him up on the way here,” Logan tells, its true. After the morning the pair had had, Logan wanted to do something. Directly or indirectly, he wanted for some godforsaken reason, to cheer Patton up. So, dogs.

“Oh, I love him, Logan!” Patton cuddles the corgi, showering it with soft kisses. Logan gestures to the seat, Patton nods. They sit opposite one another, Patton still obsessing over the small animal. As if remembering Logan is still present, he brings his focus back to the lawyer. “Hi” He smiles, rubbing the corgi's belly softly.

“Hello” Logan responds, Patton adjusts his own glasses. “Are you ready for today?” Logan inquires, inspecting the office he's been in so many times. Whether to work on cases or just visit Patton, he knows this office.

“I think so” Patton receives a delighted lick from the corgi, causing him to giggle. Logan could listen to that sound forever “I'm a little nervous about George's testimony ...If I'm being honest” he confesses.

“What changed?” Logan sits back in his chair, folding his arms in front of him. Patton buries his chin slightly in Kevin who wants nothing more than to remain in this position licking away at the sweet man's face.

“I don't know…” Logan gives him a doubtful glance “I dont” he insists letting out a soft laugh. His phone buzzes causing him to slam it over, Logan leans forward.

“Everything alright?”

“That text is most likely, ninety-nine percent from Liam” Patton guesses, Logan gives him a tired smile.

“I do-” Logan begins quickly interrupted by Patton. Kevin yelps, scrunching his tiny nose.

“Not like him, I know” Patton finishes “You, Virgil and Roman should start a club” Patton jokes, Logan bites his bottom lip. It was a childish thing to do, and mostly for the joke but they had had a group chat a while back called ‘The Liam Hate Club’. It was inactive but they had it. He scratches the dog once more before carefully handing it back to Logan. “Im sorry, I love the little dude but...I should get back to work” He admits

“Yes, I suppose I should as well” Logan sighs resigned, he wants to stay but overstepping boundaries is not his thing. “I will see you in court,” he says his goodbyes, much as he has done before. He nods before leaving, Patton leans back in his share smiling softly.

“See you in court Lo” He mutters softly reopening his laptop. Typing away ignoring the incessant buzzing from his phone. As he does so, one thing, one image, one thought keeps running through his mind. Logan

~~~

“Mister Tolentino you ma-” Roman pauses eyeing the detective who now stands alarmingly close to him. At first, he found it sweet but now Virgil was annoying him. Constantly checking in, examining his every move, always having something to say about everything. “Detective Tormine, do I have to remove you from my court?” Roman practically seethes, the jury watches as the two shares silent communication.

“You might bitch, you might” Remy mutters softly for only him and Patton to hear. The lawyer turns and gives him a stifled laugh, Remy nods in return leaning in his chair.

“Can we please continue?” Logan begs. Roman jerks his head towards the impatient lawyer nodding.

“Yes, lets” Roman decides, he uses his gavel to point to Logan “You may proceed mister Tolentino” He assures, Logan, smiles standing from his bench.

“The people call George Hoff to the stand” He announces, Remy and Virgil joined by Joan stand making their way to where Geroge sits. The detectives assisted by the bailiff lead George over to the witness stand, securing his handcuffs in place. Patton hated the sight but it was the only way he was allowed to have George testify. Joan swears him in and Logan goes through the usual. “Mister Hoff, where were you on the night of the first murder, July fifteenth?” Logan inquires, George remains still.

“I was at home with my wife and children” He responds, Logan had forgotten how cold his voice could sound. The way it kept perfect pitch.

“And the night of the second murder, July twenty-first?” Logan continues, Patton listens intently. Someway, somehow, sometime Patton will slip up and Logan will catch it, so he has to stay on his feet.

“I was at work” George answers, Logan hadn't noticed but his eyes were fixated on Patton. They hadn't moved or blinked once.

“Where do you work mister Hoff?” Patton goes on, his questions feel flat, boring. Logan has to wonder why what will these do for the case?

“I work as a nurse at Florida's home for the elderly, and also work part-time as a behavioral therapist” George explains, Logan nods. He really was a model citizen, Logan's eyes grow wide. A model citizen, Pattons trying to weasel the jury, show that he's not a murderer. And he was assisting with that.

“Mister Hoff what are your work hours?” Logan requests, Georges ponders for a moment.

“Typically from five am to late in the night” Logan nods scribbling something down.

“So, would you say you're at work most of the day?” Logan implies, Patton scoffs softly.

“Objection, leading the witness” He claims, Logan bites his lower lip

“Sustained, mister Tolentino” Roman warns, Logan takes a deep breath.

“Mister Hoff, where would you say you are most of the day?” Logan tries again, hoping George catches on. The man isn’t stupid, he's quite smart actually but these things are meant to trick clients, catch them in a lie.

“Work, mostly”

“Do they keep records of when you check-in?” Logan inquires, George nods.

“You check-in and my boss will check in every hour to see if we’re still working, then check out” George describes “We have records on records of when we are at work, and security cameras of course” Pattons good, Logan can tell he prepared his client.

“Did you kill those people George?” Logan asks point-blank, the jury erupts into small gasps. Patton himself is taken aback by this. Remy and Virgil lean forward, every time they have asked this question they've gotten one answer, always the same; yes.

“No, I did not” He admits, something shatters around the man. His shoulders fall, his face grows increasingly red, his eyes...were they always so tired? Patton takes a prideful breath.

“Then how do you explain how your blood was all over the crime scenes?” Logan remembers. “Because as you can see here…” He pauses allowing Reeve to set up a stand with Logan's evidence. “Your DNA results, and the crime scene with your blood and fingerprints-”

“Objection! Badgering the witness” Patton cries, Logan wasn't letting him answer. Roman nods.

“Sustained, mister Tolentino” Roman advises. Logan yawns, he's not sure where it came from but he’s exhausted. “Mister Tolentino, is everything alright?” Roman questions, a growing concern, the lawyer is always...ok. Patton recognizes something but takes a breath, he’ll check in on Logan during a recess period.

“Yes, mister Hoff please answer” Logan assures, rushing away from the problem.

“I...am not sure how to answer sir” George concedes “I don't know how my DNA ended up on the crime scene, or why I confessed.” Wait no, Logan can hear alarm bells going off. “I-

“No further questions your honor” Logan decides “For now” He shuts his eyes in regret, Roman slowly bangs his gavel, confusion riddling his face.

“Uh...ok...mister Hart would you like to cross-examine the witness?” Roman inquires still staring at Logan. Patton looks over to the lawyer, Logan returns the look, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Not this time, thank you” Patton concludes, Roman scrunches his brow. Patton had examined the jury, though some had biases, they were still not opposed to either side, Patton didn't want to mess with that.

“Mister Tolentino, you may call your second witness” Roman gives permission, Logan nods looking towards the audience. The detectives resume George to his previous position making sure his cuffs are secure.

“The people call Annie Hoff” Patton's heart shatter, he knows exactly who that is. He hears a small seize next to him, George inhales his breath a cold shiver ran through him. Patton stands a calm fury inside him.

“What did you just say?” Patton baffles, everyone turns to the lawyer, a frozen fiery passion on him.

“I-“ Logan begins

“Sidebar” Patton states, no one moves, too afraid.

“Patton-“ Logan tries

“No, sidebar” he decides, Roman glances between them. He takes a moment before ushering them to his stand. They both make their way over, Remy and Virgil glance at one another. “Patton…?” The lawyer takes a breath before turning to Logan.

“How dare you call a child to the stand?” He seethes in an angry whisper. Logan keeps his composure, feeling a stab as Patton stares back with nothing but...hate. “She's only five years old! How dare you put her through this!” Patton cries, his voice keeping quiet.

“Patton she witnessed a lot of suspicious behavior from her father, I have to” Logan pleads. Patton laughs bitterly. “You would do the same!” He argues, oops.

“Never, would I ever put a child on the stand to testify against their father!” Patton exclaims, this catches Virgil. Annie Hoff, he looks to his left seeing a woman holding a small girl. As if on cue, he and Patton share the same emotion.

“I sincerely doubt that I was just doing what I needed to prove tha-

“Remus, Valerie and Damian,” Patton says simply, Logan exhales sharply, what a fool. “I thought so. Roman, I apologize but I'm requesting we hold off until tomorrow” He turns to the judge, Roman nods giving him a sad smile. Logan wants to say something but Patton walks away. His feelings final.

“Court adjourned!” Roman calls out

~~~

The room felt so much smaller than before, the walls closing in on Patton, the way his chair could barely move. He wanted nothing more than to go home but he had so much work to do and it wasn't easy. He almost missed the rasping knock on his door, but it continued, longing for a response.

“Logan?” Patton hopes softly, he feels awful about his outburst in court and wanted nothing more than to apologize. The door creaks open, Patton sighs.

“You'd like that wouldn't you?” Liam trips in, shutting the door behind him. Patton's shoulders tense as the man looks around his room. “Wow, barely changed in here...besides..” he looks to a small corner of the room, a play mat is placed with remnants of the twin's toys.

“Liam” Patton identifies. Liam makes his way further into the room. “Im busy” He makes sure to choose his words carefully.

“Oh that sounds familiar” Liam jokes dryly, he makes his way to where Patton sits. Patton remains calm, taking a deep breath. “You working late, I would come to visit you…” He leans in, peering over Patton's shoulder.

“And yell at me if I recall” Patton shrugs, Liam scoffs. He feels his warm breath right next to his ear, no-no. Liam's arms carefully make their way around Patton, resting his head on Patton's shoulder. “Liam…” Patton mumbles softly.

“Sometimes I would do this…” He whispers, kissing Patton on the neck. Patton loathes how much he longed for this, something like this. The warmth, the feeling of safety, of being there with someone he loves. Except...he didn't want this...not with Liam. A certain person in mind? Someone to hold him, it's sad, Patton knows.

“Liam stop…” Patton decides, although not a lot of effort is put into his objection. He is exhausted. Liam rests his head again, tightening his grip. Now it hurts, and now Patton can smell the breath of the horrible man who's decided he has any right to touch Patton. “Of course you're drunk!” He scoffs pushing Liam off of him, actually quite proud of his resilience. Any other time, he wouldn't be able to, but he's grown.

“I am lightly tips- tip..” Liam stops “What's the word again?” Patton might have laughed, had he not been incredibly uncomfortable.

“You should go” Patton holds up a finger “No, actually you will go” He demands. Liam grunts he moves away followed by Patton ushering him out the door.

“Goodbye Pat-” Patton decides not to let him finish his sentence, shutting the door promptly.

“Toodaloo” He whispers a farewell, going back to his desk. He's not sure how it happened, but the moment his back sunk into the chair it just came out. It started softly, like a light patter of rain, then it grew. Until Patton sat alone in the dark, sobbing.

~~~

“Reeve you can go home if you want” Logan assures the young intern. Reeve, appropriately yawns, simply shakes his head.

“That's alright sir, I enjoy...learning and hanging out with Kevin” He answers, cuddling the corgi, much to the dog's delight. They continue in silence, Logan typing away at his keyboard, Reeve studying over his books, as Kevin begs for a hint of attention from the pair. They had fallen into such a routine, the careful knock on the door scared the two of them.

“Hello?” Logan calls out, slightly closing his laptop. The door creaks open, a very exhausted Patton stands there, holding files delicately. Logan closes the laptop completely now. “Patton, I was hoping you would...come to talk to me” He cautions, glancing towards Reeve.

“I was hoping I could speak to you” Patton's voice is so soft, so...Logan's alarm bells are ringing. He finally notices the deep red eyes and the soft cracks in his words.

“Of course” Logan decides, Reeve makes his presence known, the dog barking.

“It's more of a...private matter” He eyes Reeve, the young intern pops up. “Apologies Reeve”

“No, of course, mister Tolentino, I will see you tomorrow” Reeve bids farewell, handing, knowingly, the dog to Patton. It's a wonderful source of comfort. He gathers his things before ducking out.

“Goodbye, Reeve!” Both lawyers shout in unison. Logan turns his attention back towards Patton. “Patton, I ju-

“I want to build a case against Liam” He proposes bluntly. Words could not describe the relief Logan felt.

Finally

“Come in” he invites, Patton nods, closing the door behind him as he sits. Patton takes a deep breath, placing his files on the table, Logan looks them over.

“These are...Liam's files and...other stuff I've collected and Virgils collected over the years” Patton mumbles, he's in no state, but he's come here. He's come here, asked Logan for help, and Logan was going to everything he could.

“Let's get started”

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thegeminisage · 4 years

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hey liz i've been thinking a lot about story structure lately and i wanted your take on how you decide what structure your stories will have? i know there's that "you have to do what your story needs and tells you to do" thing but these bitches dont ever tell me anything they just multiply so. thoughts? - bma

(as an aside, i don't know whether involving medium would change many things but it may be worth considering. mainly i think medium is just a matter of arrangement and that the story would be for most intents and purposes the same no matter how you choose to tell it. i guess you could argue that structure is arrangement in itself and intrinsically tied to medium but i sort of feel like it is secondary arrangement, if at all? like if you consider time as an element to outline -- the time IN the story (how things happen to your characters) is not necessarily the time you’re telling the story IN (how you are telling your reader that things are happening) aka internal chronology doesnt equal your work’s pacing? or should it??? does this make sense? i dont think so. i am sorry.) - bma :|

NOOO dont be sorry ur making total sense

i think there’s 3 thots to unpack here (medium, structure, & chronology) & i’m gonna start with medium bc it’s easier. im also putting it behind a cut bc it’s gonna get just stupidly long and rambly. i’m sorry in advance if it’s not helpful to you, i have a lot to say for someone who has never taken even one single class on writing and as a result doesn’t know jack shit (there’s a tl;dr at the end dont worry)

about MEDIUM:

so like ok i’m just some goof-off with a HS degree who writes fanfiction but In My Very Super Qualified Personal Opinion, i don’t think that most of the time medium is intrinsically tied to STRUCTURE of the main storytelling arc...i think the art of storytelling itself is distinct from the medium you choose to tell the story IN. this post puts it better than i ever could but basically for me, i feel like the story itself is sort of the raw, malleable concept, and the medium you choose to tell it in is how you convey the information??

like in a book, you can say “she forgot her keys” and in a film you have to show her smacking her forehead, heading back into the house, and swiping her keeps off the counter. you can’t TELL in film, you have to show. similarly i regret every day i cannot perfectly describe a facial expression with words when i see it so clearly in my head. for audio-only podcasts that are dialogue heavy out of necessity you have different limitations than you would for, say, animated music videos with no dialogue at all. games allow for more interactivity and exploration while sacrificing accessibility, tv shows allow for more length while sacrificing, uh, a big hollywood budget...medium affects the kind of story you can reasonably tell which is why some stories are better suited to one medium than another. i think trying things in other mediums is a good way to stretch your storytelling muscles but with enough skill nearly any story could be told in any medium. i think when trying to decide on a medium you just gotta weigh the pros & cons and what you feel comfortable with/what you think would be most effective/what would evoke the strongest reaction

re: structure:

firstly “do what the story tells u to do” is a little silly like...the story isn’t sentient. come on. that’s like “i can only write when the writing gods inspire me” there are no writing gods! inspire yourself! it’s all in our weird messed up brains! ok anyway.

this is, again, just how i do things, and i am 700% self-taught so take it with a grain of salt, but when i sit down and start blocking out a story from scratch i don’t...actually consider the big structure at all! sorry if that’s not helpful to you. i like to make a list of everything i want to happen, and then put it together in a few different orders to see what looks best. and when i’m finished, whatever i have just like...IS the structure i go with, with perhaps minor tinkering to make it flow more smoothly. (i think this might be in the same spirit as “do what the story tells you” with less bullshit and more Agency Of The Writer.)

for long and more complex projects, i actually usually have several lists - one list of stuff that is, for example, the Action Plot (the kingdom has been cursed, i’m tracking down my serial killer sister to bring her to justice, i’m running from djinn who wanna kill my dad, i’m trying to bring my dead not-boyfriend back to life). then i have another list for Character A & Character B’s romance or whatever. and maybe a even another one for solo character development (magicphobic prince learns to love magic, former werewolf hunter figures out his family is a cult, half-demon learns to embrace his own nature). and as many lists as we need for however many Main Characters and or Plots/Sideplots

how i order the lists: individually first. don’t mix them together to start with. when deciding the order of an individual list i like to, for example in a romance arc, use escalating intimacy. “A and B have dinner together” is naturally gonna go way sooner than “A and B kiss” or “A and B talk about A’s angsty backstory” because that’s more satisfying. draw it out, good/important stuff last, dangle that carrot so we have a reason to keep reading! for singular character development, it’s basically a straightforward point A to point B...if i want my guy to start hating magic with everything he is and end up being very comfortable with it, i have to put “reluctantly uses magic to save his own life” WAYYY before “casually using magic to light torches and reheat his cold stew.”

the tricky part for me is when i’m done with these lists and then i need to mix them together To Pace My Whole Story. (this is usually why i wind up with a rainbow colored spreadsheet.) i don’t like to put too many things too close together because then the pace feels uneven. even if my Action Plot is only a thinly veiled excuse for romance and character development, i still don’t want to focus on a romance for 30,000 words and then go “and oh yeah in case you forgot Serial Killing Sister is still coming for your asses.” the more sideplots and major character arcs you’re juggling the harder it is to get an even distribution, which is my main concern always

and like, generally, whatever i have when i’m finished...is my structure. (sorry.)

i don’t know much about the classic 3-act or anything like that, but i usually can divide them up into 3-5 big arcs based on story turning points. sometimes i take a scene out of one arc and put it in another because it fits better and i like for my shit to be organized, but usually by the time i’m finished with all that, that’s what the final story is mostly gonna look like. (there have been a few exceptions when i realized i needed extra scenes/changes while i was MID-DRAFT and let me tell you that murders me EVERY time. it happened on the merlin fic i’m currently posting and that was like my own personal hell.)

this is also where thots about chronology come in:

i think time CAN be an element of this if you WANT it to be, but it doesn’t HAVE to be. if you want it to be, i would consider it just another “list” like character development or the romance arc.

i usually plot without considering Time very much...to me, it’s all down to the events you want to show, and however much time it takes is the byproduct. if you want to show something from a character’s chilhood but then tell the bulk of it when they’re adults, that’s one thing. if you want to show a scene from their childhood, teenhood, young adulthood, etc, that’s a different kind of pacing?? i usually do it this way so i can regard time like wordcount: it takes as long as it takes. 3 days or 3 years, a 1.5k drabble or a 100k epic...overall, my LARGEST CONCERN is that even distribution. in the same way that i don’t want one chapter to be 30,000 words when the rest are 10,000 words, i personally am not a fan of huge timeskips offscreen

(because this where i think someone’s own internal chronology DOES matter...this is just a personal preference, as a reader i have a hard time really comprehending, say, a year timeskip or a 10yr timeskip when all i did was turn one page. like, a year is such a long time. i can’t even begin to describe how different i am now to how i was a year ago. it’s the same for character development. time IS development and as a writer i’m not really comfortable having that take place offscreen - for main characters, at least. it’s just too jarring. a little prologue with something happening 10 or 20 years ago is usually fine, but for the most part, i’m not a fan. ...i can do one chapter per year a lot easier than i can do two chapters in childhood and the other 8 in adulthood. of course you can play with this a LOT with nonlinear storytelling, which is a whole other very cool thing, and someone skilled in their work can keep me sucked in no matter what, but imo if you don’t want to risk throwing your reader out of your work it’s better to keep things steady)

HOWEVER sometimes time IS an element u wanna consider outside of just making sure your shit is evenly distributed...if your heart is moved to tell a story in a specific timeframe, over a year, or from solstice to solstice (this was almost the timeline for my merlin fic and then i changed it), for the first six months of a friendship, or even a huge journey in the span of a single day (toby fox had a lot of success with this one lol).

i think it can help to choose a start and end point for your chronology the same way you do for character development (prince goes from hating magic to being ok with it, story takes place from ages 8 to 25, or from new year’s eve 2038 to 2039, whatever) - that way you can keep your distribution even, if that’s a thing you want to do...even if you have a lot of skips you can still note what happens offscreen to make it work better in your head? like, if you just make it another List, another column on your spreadsheet, when you’re in the early stages of organizing you can be conscious of it and make sure it’s playing into the story the way you want it to

anyway these r my thots im SOOOO SORRY this is so long lmao. brain machine broke today which is why i had to ramble more to explain myself. the tl;dr in case ur brain is melting out of ur ears & u didn’t sign up for an essay:

imo medium is totally distinct from storytelling tho ofc some stories are better suited to some mediums

structure? i don’t know her. i plot w/o regard to structure and then if it looks funny i mush it into a more structurally sound shape

my main concern when structuring anything, including time, is an even distribution of Events and a steady rate of escalation

structure to me is just what i have when i’m finished plotting. i’m sorry one day i’m gonna take a writing class

internal chronology matters to me personally because i have a little bit of time blindness but maybe not to everyone, i know many very successful stories where they disregarded that entirely to no ill effect

writer’s block isn’t real! everyone just needs more rainbow spreadsheets

thank u for asking I HOPE i didn’t make you regret it too badly lmao and that at least a little of it was helpful!!

#personal #liz loves writing #liz answers asks #brit marling anon #i couldn't figure out how to answer u without walking u thru my entire process #so that's what i did and that's why it's so long. very sorry.#im gonna set this up to reblog itself at the time u sent ur ask so that ur sure to see it!!#edit: there was SUPPOSED to be a cut on this but tumblr put it in the ASK?? i can't seem to fix it. rip

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ivyandink · 5 years

Text

a life update

if you’re interested! :) i know im the nosy person who loves reading about peoples’ personal lives, so if that’s you.... below the cut sis, i see you lol

I have been sooo absent from tumblr for months now! And I know I don’t owe any explanations or anything, but idk, I just thought it’d be kinda fun to share with you guys what’s been keeping my mind busy and away! So here goes nothin’.

I had one hell of a summer. Emphasis on hell. Read: Family DRAMA. Which left me in a pretty rough place mentally/emotionally. In a much, much better place with it all now (altho as I say that my crazy aunt has been texting me all day tryna drag me bag into stuff lol no rest for the wicked y’all). But, when you’re feeling kinda down, it’s hard to find the energy to create.

I am starting up my web design side hustle!!! Which has been a long time coming lol. I’ve been meaning to do this for years, but things never quite lined up or worked out. Last year, I finally felt like I was at a good place to start, so I have! This is by far taking up the most space in my brain for now, as I��m still getting things off the ground. It’s hard to balance starting a business while working full time, and also trying to have other hobbies/interests/social interaction lolol. PS: If you or anyone you know needs a website designed.... ;) just sayin’. I know a gal.......... me. It’s me. I’m the gal. Moving on. :)

I’ve been revisiting my novel. Idk if I ever talked about it much on here or just vaguely referenced it here and there? But last Spring (yikes almost a year ago.. BIG YIKES) I started a novel with the goal to finish by 2020. I wrote about 3 chapters and effectively scrapped it. lmao. So here we are! Revisiting the drawing board. FYI, this novel is an adaptation of my “Disapora” story if any of yall remember that hot ass M E S S-- aka, how Eli and Clem meet, fall in love and what not. My concept is to take my Ivy characters and kind of build them out their own book series... a series that would explore generational ties and relationships, and give me space to REALLY develop these characters I’ve loved so much. Like, I could gush and geek over this forever, but developing the old Elliot and Clementine into REAL characters (let’s be honest, their development had always been a little... lite lol) feels amazing, and seeing the same character yet also they’re so different?? It’s hard to explain, but it’s exciting, and fun, and a big, long-term project/goal of mine, and 2020 is the year I write the first book!!!! Or at least start it lol.

I lost my very best furry friend, my cat Juno, in December. See above for mental hardship making it hard to create. However, Seth and I have opened our hearts and home to two little ragdoll brothers , who we’ve had for a few weeks now, and are in love with. I think Juno would’ve really loved them too. ❤️ They’re a lil bad sometimes lol I like to think they’re in the preteen phase right now, and acting up and being extra. But they’re so cute and sweet and quirky, and already apart of our little family.

Then there’s just tons of misc things that have sucked up my time. Like: learning how to use my iPad Pro + Apple Pencil, creating a digital bullet journal with said iPad/Pencil combo, researching going back to college for my MSW to then become an LCSW (good LORD the acronyms in the field... kill m e) and become a therapist, researching houses we cannot afford???? literally wasting entire days looking on Trulia/Zillow/etc. lol, trying out a super DUPER extreme elimination diet to pinpoint some of my health issues (which i suspect might be autoimmune by nature, as it runs in the fam, despite me not being diagnosed-- and there is a lot of at the bare minimum anecdotal evidence that AI diseases are caused by food intolerances), went through a weird regression where I played Zelda for a few days lmao, and I’ve also taken up a daily manifestation journaling practice! And lord knows what else. :)

All of this is to say.... YEAH I’ve been busy. But here I am. I can’t make any promises to myself or others are my content, how often I’ll post, if I’ll ever even finish this dang story, or what. But!! That’s all good. :) I’m gonna let myself have fun with this hobby. Because for ME, I need something I can just have fun with. Read all the above points for things in my life that aren’t meant to be taken very seriously and leave no room for ‘just have fun with it’ and you’ll get it lolol. At the end of the day tho, I love tumblr, for as much shit as we all talk about it. It scratches a very particular itch for me, and it’s an enjoyable itch to scratch (???? weird metaphor but ok). It’s fun. I love the community (I’m good at blocking the icky blogs, and love my mutuals/followers/anons/people who interact). And I love having Like Ivy in the back of my head, getting ideas and inkings for it here and there, with no pressure on myself to do anything with it, right away. I want to keep this as my creative, free for all kinda space. But that might mean some radio silence here and there. I feel like most my main followers are also adults tho with busy lives??? So I’m sure y’all more than understand the struggle lolol.

OH I almost forgot-- keep your 👀 peeled for the return of my Youtube channel this year! That was another fun hobby I enjoyed doing just for myself. I still need to figure out how I can make it work for me, in my new crazy life/schedule lol but alas!!!!! I’m a double scorpio and i LOVE a good challenge. Also might be a bit of a masochist??? So, I’ll figure it out, no worries lolol.

If you read this, and got all the way to the end without tapping out, I just wanted to say hey 👋 I see you. You’re awesome. I love you. Thanks for being interested in me. Also, we’re nosy creepers together, so we clearly have that in common 💁‍♀️ and idk! even if I’m not posting, I’m always lurking/around and always open to chat, answer asks, whatever. :) And if you have any questions about anything I wrote here, feel free to shoot them my way too!! All humans lowkey love talking about themselves (this post? case, and point oof). No shame~

Anyways-- thanks for reading!

#nonsims #yall wanna creep my life errr what #bc i wrote u a novel #:)

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oleanderblume · 4 years

Text

Unrelated but OMYGOD. My clown series reached 1k reads on wattpad.

Which isn't super awesome because its only due to the sheer quantity of chapters I have but I need to rave and spoil it cause I'm super excited about what I'm planning and no one i care to tell gives a shit so I'm dumping it into the void that is tumblr.

So. Im writing a book series called Caring For Your Clown. Its about this trans kid named Oliver and he is sort of an asshole.

Well not sort of, he is an asshole. But a RELATABLE asshole.

The story sort of drops you in 6 months after the mysterious and tragic (and traumatic) death of his mother Marie, who was a scientist alongside her husband and Oliver's step father Jon at a lab that specializes in physics mainly.

They were working on a machine with an unstable particle that caused a..tear so to speak, in the fabric of dimensional space and she got torn into tiny little bits. :3

But apparently before this occurred, Marie was in contact with an alien race called clowns 🤡 (really they are interdimensional traveling amoebas that take the shape of humanoid clowns lol)

One of which pops up in Oliver's life completely unexpectedly for no foreseeable reason and her name is Dindet and she is absolutely precious.

Basically its a saga and each book ranges in about 30k to 50k words. The first book centers around Oliver learning about this weird alien houseguest and also the immediate fallout of the death of his mom because surprise surprise! His biological dad who is a terrible abusive fucktard rolls back into his life with the intent to take custody of Oliver and that is no good!

The entire arch Oliver's goes through is literally the title of the series. Basically learning to be caring and compassionate while ALSO dealing with grief and interdimensional shenanigans.

One of the things I found really fun (it was unintentionally done but now I like it so its intentional now.) Is that each book roughly represents the 5 stages of grief.

As the first one is anger. Oliver is mostly passed the fuck off that this dumb alien clown sauntered into his life and thought it would be neat to CARE about him like he was a PERSON with FEELINGS. Irrationally angry, because he blames her for the loss of his mom (i mean so does his dad who goes through the stages of grief slightly slower than Oliver does) and uses her as a personal emotional punching bag until he realizes that SHE got his bio dad to concede his appeal for custody via literally stalking him and making him so paranoid that he was deemed an unfit parent >:3

All the while too, as the main focus is on the two characters of Oliver and Dindet, there is a background plot leading up to the second, third, and fourth (possibly up to 6 books) of the clown authorities looking for Dindet. And also the checkovs gun that is his neighbor.

The second book is mostly erring in the bargaining side of the coin for Oliver while Jon goes through his stage of anger. Oliver learns more about Dindet but doesn't quite trust her as she is clearly hiding information and KNOWS his mom. But she won't talk. Meanwhile, his neighbor working on a completely different project gets his hands on some clown matter and goes apeshit with it to build his energy machine.

We also learned more about the type of person Dindet is, which is naive and caring but also incredibly self destructive and reckless. By far a major people pleaser with huge self love issues. While Oliver is more of a "i don't give a shit what you think" though its more a facade he puts on to protect himself from rejection :/ he is far more comfortable in his own skin but external factors can make him freak out a little and he is terrible at talking to people.

It culminates when the project Jon solicited Dindet's assistance in is wreck by her own hands and Oliver's growth completely backtracks to the point that he finally manages to get our clown to leave (only for her to be clownknapped by his whole ass fucking neighbor to be used as the conduit to his energy machine)

And yeh, Ols almost immediately regrets his actions (though at first its more denial that she actually left) especially when he catches his neighbor using her as fuel for his machine to the point that all her fucking matter is completely burned away via electrical current! >:3

THEN Oliver gets to the depression arch >:3 (i haven't written this part yet so its up in the air atm)

Basically, with his mom dead and now the only person who could reasonably be considered his friend ALSO Basically dead, Ols falls into this really bad streak of just walking backward in his grief. Anger, denial, bargaining, the whole shebang. But THIS time the lab and the government AND the secret clown police are all in cahoots to cover up what happened at the lab and to do that they need to get rid of Ols and his dad to allow their plot to work. (Will be revealed later)

So throughout the first two books I've been alluding to the leader of the clowns via Dindet's ostensible paranoia and their name is Smile. They have underlings though and one is named Poppy. So the clowns get into the lab and convince Jon to send his son to a treatment facility for therapy under the thin veil that it will protect them from the repercussions of the machine. Oliver is not to upset about this though because he has been to therapy before from his past with his bio dad.

Except obviously the clowns don't want to actually help anyone. Their goal is to wear my boy down until he ready to die because- did I mention this was middle grade??

Anyways. This particular book I want to develop my potential romance between Douglass (Oliver's kid neighbor) and Ols and also deconstruct Oliver's personality via flashbacks that parallel the events in the story so we understand why he reacts the way he does to things and also i think it would be neat that the clowns technically succeed in their plan to draw out Dindet the wanted criminal by using the person she cares most about against her. By making him want to die!!

Then! For the next book, I'm planning on having more clown infiltration, more bonding between my children and romance between my boys because oooohhh boy am I gonna have fun tearing everyone apart when the real fucking deal Smile shows up and fucks shit up. Smile is my main villian and a veru fun and manipulative one at that. She uses Oliver to get to Dindet and eventually catches the both of them, revealing clowns to the entire world right before snatching them back to the home base the Cornucopia.

This is where we learn all the information we have been wanting and building up to about Dindet >:3

She is a criminal because she has Essentially tied a doomed universe to the Cornucopia in a never ending time loop because she is so heckin big that every time that universe is torn apart, she jumps back in time and DIES in order to recreate it. (She's the big bang yo)

That isn't the only reason though. Oliver comes to learn that his mom was FRIENDS with Smile. And Smile was the one who tore her apart in the machine scattering her subconscious in the literally timeless Cornucopia (time doesn't exist there so aging, death, anything like that is completely halted) and MARIE who has been half alive and omnipotent this whole fucking time has been trapped in the Cornucopia unable to see her family or child but fully able to see a know the infinitesimal inevitability of the destruction of his universe. So what does she do? She PULLS DINDET PUT OF THE ABYSS AND TELLS HER TO GO BE FRIENDS WITH HER KID TO KEEP THE TIME LOOP GOING.

And this has happened before. Like this book series is literally ONE (1) version of events that have been stacking up on top of eachother for millenia. The reason Dindet shows up in the first place is because she can partially see these past loops and the remnants of her love for Oliver keeps her coming back YO.

But while all this lovely information is being shared, Dindet is in clown jail and Oliver is treated as a pet to Smile. He tries to stage a break out and fails and what does Smile do? She turns him into a got damn monkey!

And uses him as literal fucking bait to a starving Dindet in order to justify her sentence (which is obviously death)

It almost works too, if it weren't for the fact that these two kids are BEST FRIENDS NOW and would legit die AND kill for eachother, Dindet pushes Oliver out of the Cornucopia (he is still a monkey boy btw) into his universe which inadvertently scatters him.

(A human person can enter the Cornucopia but if they leave, their molecular structure will destabilize in a slow and painful way until they literally are nothing left so that sucks)

This is where I want the next book to start tbh. Now back at home without his friend, as. A. Monkey. Oliver find that his entire home town is under lock down and strict control by the clowns who have now infiltrated the government and are putting plans forth to rebuild the SAME MACHINE his dad and Dindet built to bring about the destruction of the universe. (They want to do this because if they prevent Dindet from jumping back in time, they can end the time loop and get on with their lives)

So ols has to essemble a rag tag crew of Douglass and some other classmates and figure out that all the goop floating around belongs to Dindet (bruh. She is the size of the universe like. There is a lot of her to go around) and they can technically use it as gateways into other dimensions to gather an arsenal of GIANT BABY ANIMALS AND SQUIRREL BIRD CATS AND DRAWN TO LIFE ANYTHINGS so they can try to 1. Bring back our clown gal who is the key to fixing this and 2. Take on the now heavily fortified lab in order to get Olivers and Douglass's dads back.

All the while my boy is slowly dying >:3

Eventually, Oliver finds a way to get Dindet back but its at a cost :/ he tricks Smile into turning our clown organic to prevent her from being able to control any of her matter whatsoever and the cost of it is that Smile is VERY bad at making humans, so she basically traps Dindet in a catatonic meat sack that doesn't have half the organs it needs to function properly :/

To make her not be organic anymore they gotta uh..kill the tumor that is an organic half body (which yes, does have nerve endings) which eventually allows Dindet to be 100% clown again.

They break into the lab, but its basically too late. Reality is fractured and the multiverse is imploding in on itself and in the midst of all of this, Ols and Dindet are careening through the vacuum of an entirely empty space, dying of starvation and scattering and the only option left is to jump back in time to start the loop over again.

It is heartfelt and it is good and pure and the last moments they share together perfectly bring this loop together because in the VERY FIRST BOOK Oliver asks why Dindet came and she says "you asked me to."

And their last moments together he asks her to come back for him. Like I CANNOT yall!!

But that isn't the end. Yet.

The real end is after they die and the universe begins and a single hand pushes through the stars and pulls out a little orange bean. And it's Marie, pulling Dindet put of the Abyss this universe that is so intrinsically tied to the Cornucopia that it literally creates all the fucking clowns.

Its not supposed to be destroyed. And the reason eveeything falls into place so perfectly and things always go the same way is because ita already been seen and already been narrated. By Marie.

The WHOLE ASS SERIES IS IN THIRD PERSON OMNISCIENT BUT ITS ACTUALLY NOT. Its first person. Narrated by Marie.

Dindet knows Marie because she pulled her out of the Cornucopia. Clowns exist because Dindet was told by Oliver that she was and looked like a clown. The entire ass UNIVERSE exists because Oliver and Dindet are the fucking building blocks of life.

All of Olivers character actions and growth and eventual love (platonic) for Dindet shape their futures and all of it started because a mom was so concerned and guilty about leaving her kid in such a time of need that she would rather start the world over than see him suffer.

So..themes.

Throughout the series there are heavy HEAVY parallels between Dindet and Marie (partly because Dindet is a parrot and almost all her actions and reactions mimmick things that she has seen and the first person she met who wasn't out to kill her was Marie) but also because Dindet is the conduit through which Marie vicariously lives out the rest of Oliver's fleeting life with him.

There is even a point where Oliver genuinely questions whether or not Dindet actually IS his mom (she isn't obviously)

One of the themes I really love about this series is that compassion, unconditional love and care is deserving to even the most obstinant. Oliver isn't easy to love. He actively makes it very hard for anyone who could be a peer (even his own dad sometimes) to care about him. He constantly pushes people away to safeguard himself from potential harm and it takes three fucking books ROUGHLY 200,000 words to get this boy to understand what unconditional love can do.

How it can help with the grieving process, and help you become a more compassionate person toward others.

And also how your actions affect others!!

Like i said, Dindet is a parrot, she can read your mind (if she wanted to) but what she sees she incorporates into her own thoughts and as a reflection, Olivers harsh words and actions, even the most simple kind are recorded and even amplified. He is MEAN to Dindet. He makes fun of her often and gets angry with her and calls her stupid and she internalizes that immediately and it has an immediate affect on how she views herself. Oliver doesn't even think of this as something that happens until much later in the story! And gradually he grows past it and becomes more considerate and affirming toward Dindet and Douglass as a result.

And the way things matter. Oh. Every little detail matters in this story up to seemingly inconsequential continuity errors! Foreshadowing is everywhere from the first fucking sentence to the last because the things the characters do and say to eachother are simultaneously current and in the past all at once and no one knows which is which.

Someone got hurt? There are consequences, even unforseen ones. Dindet loses her hat. It is the most precious thing she owns and is a huge comfort item for her. Oliver asked where she got it? A friend gave it to her.

OLIVER MAKES HER A NEW HAT AFTER SHE LOSES IT. He is the FRIEND that gave it to her.

Almost everything in this story has parallels and consequences and twists and turns and outcomes that are wildly unpredictable (up until now because I've just spoiled the entire fucking plot but who cares!!)

Like...this is my baby. I care SO MUCH about this story and the characters in it that when I think about certain scenes I legitimately start crying.

I can't wait to publish the first book yall. I'm planning on publishing it either through a publisher or self publish, and maybe make a comic even? Idk. I just i really think people would like my dumb absurd story about clowns and I wish i could just spout about it 24/7...it breaks my heart that no one will listen.

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