#no i will NOT stop comparing harry to summer storms

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

Harry was like the dark rain at the end of summer.

He rolled in like storm clouds on the horizon, a bright blue sky that faded slowly, then all at once to a dull dark grey. Harry walked into every room with a shade around him, dimming all the lights until he was the brightest source—a flash in the darkest dark—twisting, jagged just like that scar across his forehead.

Tom knew it the minute he laid his eyes on him, the moment that smell of ozone crept by, wafting and humid, sticking to him like a second skin.

[virgo-mess]

The Birds and the Bees

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Chapter List

1.Alexithymia- The Inability to Express your Feelings Parts 1 and 2

2.The Woes of Adolescence/ What the heck Happened that Summer Parts 1 and 2

3.Caught in a Summer Storm/ What the heck Happened that Christmas.

4.Summer Bluffs? Part 1

5.Disco, Strippers, and Margaritassss Part 2

6.Sleepless in a Hotel Suite Part 3

7.Shades of Pink

8.The Things I’ve Dreamed Part 1

9.Renewal Part 2

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TW: Mostly just fluff and repressed feelings, I ended up splitting this chapter into two parts for my own sanity, ENJOY!

The Woes of Adolescence/ What the Heck Happened That Summer Part 1

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“Yet the summer which was to change everything was coming nearer every day. When boys and girls are growing up, life can’t stand still, not even in the quietest of country towns; and they have to grow up, whether they will or no. That is what their elders are always forgetting.”- Willa Cather

Shay's Pov

 The days leading up to the wedding ticked by like the hands track the minutes and hours on a clock, some days flew by, and others were agonizingly slow. Shay wasn’t sure which she preferred, the fast days were the ones where she and Cash had the most fun. They seemed to get along better on those days when the planning felt less like planning and more like hanging out, but not the way you hang out with a friend. It felt more like dating than anything and Shay found it comparable to those carefree, albeit fleeting beginnings of her relationship with Tyler and those early buddings of her crush on Cash. When the butterflies in her stomach were endless and the bashful giggles were a dime a dozen, the sweet days. The ones before Shay’s anxiety induced depressive spirals surfaced as a result of her parents’ contentious divorce and threw a wrench in her and Cash’s friendship. The quote on quote, sweet days, in her and Tyler’s relationship, however, were the ones before his narcissistic and abusive tendencies surfaced. Shay was about as happy as she could be in those days, having settled for being in a relationship with someone she only kind of liked because the person she really wanted felt just out of reach.

   The slow, tedious days Shay and Cash spent planning, however, were a lot less fun. They were the days she and Cash seemed to do nothing except bicker, they couldn’t agree on anything on those days. That was the primary reason they still hadn’t managed to come to a consensus on the bachelor parties. Shay knew she was just being difficult but how could she not be? She had come to a point in her life where nothing made sense anymore and being with Cash, the man she could admit she wholeheartedly still loved, was only making her more confused. There were moments they’d shared over the past week or so, intimate ones, where Shay got the feeling, he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him. That talk at brunch about their dreams was one of a few. Shay couldn’t stop thinking about the way his fingers ran down her arm, the way his thumb caressed her cheek, and the way his ocean blue eyes gazed into her in a way that felt like he was seeing into her soul. Shay had evidently mistaken the emotions swirling in his blue orbs, but it wasn’t like it was the first time Cash had brought her hopes up to an embarrassing all-time high.

 “Shaylee, where are you?” Shay’s mother, Maggie Harris’ chipper voice floated out at Shay from somewhere down the hallway near her bedroom. Shay craned her neck to peer down the hallway from her current sprawled out position on the living room couch and saw her mom standing in the hall with a suitcase by her side for the trip she was taking this week with Cash’s mom Jo. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and her blue eyes were scanning Shay’s empty bedroom slowly, people often mistook Shay and her mom for sisters more so than mother and daughter. Shay never really thought they looked all that much alike aside from the blonde hair. Shay had her father, Beau Harris’ eyes, whom she only really saw on holidays because their close relationship suffered significantly when she came home from school early one day to find him cheating. Not that Beau Harris hadn’t tried to adamantly repair the rift that his infidelity had caused between them, in fact he still called her once a week to catch up and ask her how she was doing. The answer was always the same of course, fine just fine. Shay supposed she should forgive him by now but for whatever reason, she couldn’t help but still feel so betrayed.

 “I’m in the living room” Shay said, turning back around to put a bookmark in the book she’d been reading before fully sitting up. She filled most of the time she wasn’t wedding planning or hanging out with Cash reading, she hadn’t really had a chance to read for pleasure with all the long and often times sleepless nights she spent going through client files and crunching numbers back in New York.

  “There you are, what are you reading? You know you’ve got boxes full of books in the attic still, I thought you were going to ask Cash to come over and help you with all that stuff up there?” her mom said, walking into their open concept kitchen and living room with her suitcase rolling behind her. Shay didn’t miss the almost impish grin on her face as she stared at her from the kitchen island and eyed her mother suspiciously from her spot on the couch with an arched eyebrow. Maggie Harris had been nosier than usual these few weeks that Shay had been home and that was saying a lot, to say the least. After that summer between eighth grade and high school, Maggie Harris, had become a bit of a hover parent. Not that Shay could blame her, that meltdown she had on the last day of school that year, the day she locked Cash out, refused to open the window, and screamed at him for the first time ever was a rollercoaster for them all.

“Between wedding planning and trying to talk him into a western themed bachelor party I forgot, I guess… Why are you looking at me like that?” Shay asked her wearily, the impish grin on her mom’s face only seemed to grow as she shuffled towards the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.

  “I’m not looking at you like anything, pumpkin but I figured you forgot so I asked him myself. Jo put a lot of his stuff from the basement up there when she was having it renovated and with both of you lovebirds gone for the past two years, we haven’t gotten around to getting everything back over there. Cash said he’s more than happy to help you with the attic and to keep you company while I’m gone” She replied taking a seat on one of the bar stools near the island with the same grin on her face. Shay felt her cheeks flush at her mom insinuating that she and Cash were anything more than friends.

  “Mom, Cash is only hanging out with me because Pete and Daisy gave him no choice... we’re just friends. I can go through the stuff in the attic by myself and make sure he gets his stuff back; I don’t need a babysitter. I’m fine, really.” Shay sighed; she knew what her mom meant by Cash keeping her company. She knew it as soon as Miss DeDe Green stopped her at the farmers market last weekend and asked, “But how are you really cupcake?”. 

 “I know you don’t need a babysitter Shaylee Rose; Cash isn’t coming to babysit you at all. Have you ever considered he just likes spending time with you, I only asked him to help you with the attic he’s the one that wanted to keep you company.” Maggie said there was a sincere note in her tone, but Shay still found herself highly doubting her words given her mother’s meddlesome history.

  “Uh huh, and what excuse was that mom” Shay huffed, rising from her spot on the couch she felt a bit, exasperated as she walked over to join her at the island. Maggie chuckled under her breath as she reached out to stroke Shay’s cheek affectionately.

  “His exact words were ‘She’s got to stop leaving unlocked lower-level windows around your house Mrs. Harris, it’s not safe. I’ll help her with the attic and crash on the couch for a few nights, so she doesn’t get kidnapped.’” she said with amusement swirling in her blue eyes.

“That’s what I said but he insisted I leave it unlocked for him like I used to, or he’d wake me up before 9:30” Shay huffed rolling her eyes to herself at Cash’s silly antics, he had reined in a good portion of his usually, incessant teasing over the days they’d spent together, much to Shay’s surprise. At least when they weren’t having a bicker fest that is, an action which had Shay feeling as confused and besotted as she was when she was fourteen. Which only meant all those anxious and insecure tendencies she had during those bewildering days of her early teens were starting to resurface the more time she spent with him. She could tell Cash was really putting forth the effort not to escalate their bickering into full on arguments, but part of Shay found herself wanting him to. There was so much to be said and they both knew it…

  “That sounds like another excuse to spend time with you to me. He sure had a lot of them when you were kids too.” Her mom said with a fond smile on her face. Like she was recalling memories of the summers their families spent down in Cape Cod before happy homes became less happy. Doomed in the gloom of a tumultuous melodrama, fit for a some scandalous tell-all, at least that’s what everyone in town said.

“What do you mean.” Shay said, propping an elbow up on the granite counter, she rested her chin in the palm of her hand and looked at her mother in expectation and mild suspicion. She could feel one of her mother’s deep, heart to heart chats quickly approaching and Shay wasn’t sure if she could handle another one, it would be about the fourth heart to heart chat since Shay had come home. Cash of course had been the subject of every single one of them.

“Well, he didn’t have to spend the night every day after Huck was gone did he?” Maggie said with a knowing smile though her blue eyes were still incredibly impish as they held Shay’s gaze. Shay pondered her statement for a brief moment, she hadn’t really considered the fact Cash didn’t have to spend as much time with her as he did back then after Huck Ewing went to prison and basically dropped off the face of the earth after his release. Shay always just assumed it was because Jo needed someone to keep an eye on Cash while she was busy putting in extra hours at work so she and Cash wouldn’t have to move to a more affordable section of Plymouth.

“I don’t know, I guess I never really thought much about it because he stopped doing it by the time I got home that summer. He kind of just left me alone” Shay said, she caught a glimpse of a memory in her mother’s eyes like she was recalling something Shay knew nothing about. She wished her mom, Daisy, and Pete would just get over wanting her and Cash to talk everything out and just spill whatever it was they were all holding back. It was very obvious they all knew something she didn’t…

“Did he or maybe you were just having a hard time seeing too far outside of yourself, Shaylee?” Maggie asked in a soft but pointed tone, Shay let out another sigh partly in exasperation and partly in relief that the awaited heart to heart was finally being laid out on the table.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shay asked mostly just to humor her mother but also because she was genuinely curious what wise, parent psychology mumbo jumbo she was preparing to throw at her today. Shay watched the last remnants of the impish proclivities leave her mom’s blue eyes, they became a soft mix of maternal seriousness and sincerity as they gazed into Shay’s green ones.

“You were very much going through the woes of adolescence that summer, pumpkin, that whole year really. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s normal and scientifically proven teens are a little self-centered during those years. Adolescent egocentrism is what they call it, it makes it hard for you to accept other points of views, makes you feel like the world’s out to get you, and everyone is judging you. Even if they’re not and I know the divorce only made this worse for you.” Her mom admitted in a soft tone. Shay wordlessly nodded her head in acknowledgement, feeling a little exposed among other things.

“Oh, so you think because I was suffering from Adolescent egocentrism among other things, I may be misremembering things about Cash and our friendship. Okay mom…” Shay muttered more to herself than anything else, her mother wasn’t wrong, and she found it mildly irritating. That age when you realized your parents were right, that they did get it, and they weren’t just saying it because they’re your parents, was actually no less aggravating than the age when you shouted the opposite at them constantly. Shay wasn’t quite ready to give her a “you were right mom” just yet…

“You could be… take going through your old things as an opportunity to look at stuff with a pair of fresh eyes, maybe there was something you missed the first time around, maybe you might even find yourself up there…hmm. Fourteen is a rough year for everybody, things that seemed easy to say suddenly aren’t. The woes...” Maggie trailed with a faint smile on her face because she of course knew what Shay was actually thinking. Shay rolled her eyes to herself and wondered why her mom’s motherly intuition radar was always on the up and up.

“The woes of adolescence got it mom no need to get so philosophical on me…” Shay said just as a soft thud came from her bedroom. Shay rolled her eyes, peering down the hall she saw Cash clamber in through her bedroom window with a large black duffle on one arm and a few bags of groceries on the other. He set his duffle near her bed before his tall, muscled frame stalked down the hall and into the kitchen with the groceries and a big grin on his face.

“Hey Mrs. Harris, Cherry Blossom” he greeted in a cheery tone and dumped the bags on the kitchen island. Shay peered down at all the bags to find a plethora of her favorite snacks, candy, and a few decks of playing cards.

“Not babysitting me, huh, he brought games and snacks…” Shay said raising an eyebrow at her mom pointedly, Maggie flashed her an almost sheepish smile. Cash looked down at her amused as he rounded the island and wrapped his strong arms around Shay’s waist in the form of a tender embrace. Shay jumped slightly in surprise at the action because she still wasn’t used to Cash being this touchy with her. The hugs after that lonely summer were so far and few between but each one still had nervous, smitten butterflies swirling in her stomach every time.

“Hadn’t planned on babysitting although I am the oldest and the most mature out of the two of us blondie. We’re just best friends having a sleepover like old times.” Cash said teasingly into her ear, Shay felt his chest rumble against her back as he let out a soft chuckle and placed a long kiss into her hair, gingerly. Shay felt her stomach do about a dozen nervous flips and let out an almost nervous giggle despite herself at the display of affection.

“I think that’s the best joke you’ve made in a long time, Cash, Cash parties always a smash” Shay said nonchalantly, ignoring the way her cheeks flushed a bright, rosy shade of pink at the feel of his lips brushing against her ear as she craned her neck to give him a teasing smile.

“I resent that title, Cherry Blossom; Pete was the one throwing the parties I was just providing the space. Cute jammies by the way” Cash crooned, toying with the thin strap of her floral top as he stared down at her with a coquettish smile on his face. Shay rolled her eyes at him almost playfully though she was sure her face was the brightest shade of pink imaginable by now. She hadn’t missed the way his eyes would linger on certain areas of her body the last few days and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t give her a bit of an ego boost though Shay wasn’t sure what to do with that information.

“Yeah, a space for underage drinking. How’d you become a cop again, were all your teachers at the academy divorcees that caressed your muscles during target practice or something?” Shay said teasingly, though the thought of Cash being in such a predicament had her heart twinging with jealousy. Cash let out another soft chuckle, his blue eyes were swirling with amusement and his smile was still tormentingly coquettish as his arms tightened their hold around Shay’s waist ever so slightly.

“No but if you’re looking for an excuse to caress my muscles darling, you don’t need one. You can touch ‘em all you want while I’m moving boxes in the attic, can’t believe you forgot to ask me to give you a hand for a whole week Shaylee.” Cash said teasingly, Shay rolled her eyes again though her heart was racing a mile a minute at the mere thought of running her hands down the length of his arms and chest. She’d had a number of heated dreams about doing just that since she was a hormonal teenager and even more so now that she was a lost, single woman approaching her thirties. This past week alone Shay had endless dreams about the amorous entanglements that would follow her running her hands along his chiseled form in both a passionate want and need. Fantasizing really, and no amount of time, distance, or the mental cage that came with a traumatic sham of a relationship could prevent her mind from getting lost in a maze of steamy yet romantic trysts with the man that really had her heart. Shay held onto those deeply personal entanglements and yearnings in her perfectly crafted, sheltered fantasy world of unbridled passion and romance. A world void of the fears and loud thoughts that talked her out of crossing that pesky imaginary line Shay had convinced herself lay between her and Cash Ewing. Shay gazed up at Cash absentmindedly for what felt like forever, he held her gaze with an unreadable emotion now swirling in his ocean blue eyes though his smile was still mildly coquettish even as beaming as it was at the present moment. Maggie Harris cleared her throat, breaking the brief stretch of silence that had lulled in the air. Shay felt her cheeks heat up again under her mother’s amused gaze.

“Skipped my mind, he’s been very distracting you know mom, with his Casanova ways.” Shay said, she felt Cash tighten his hold on her waist yet again and his chest rumble against her back tantalizingly. She gazed back at him still rosy cheeked as she tried to stifle an amused, slightly smitten, giggle under her breath.

“I think you’re starting to like my Casanova ways, Sweetheart.” Cash crooned in a flirty tone and rested his chin on her shoulder with an almost sheepish grin on his face as he stared deeply into her eyes. Shay stared back at him, completely breathless with the familiar fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. She found herself resisting the strong urge to kiss him again, she’d been resisting the urge to throw herself at him for days now and she wondered just how long she’d be able to keep it up. That imaginary line between them grew blurrier with each of the clocks tedious ticking hands. Shay’s mom cleared her throat again, pulling Shay and Cash out of their intimate staring contest with an almost smug smirk on her lips.

“You two are going to have a lot of fun this week, I can already tell so it’s best I get out of your flirty way. Please keep her busy Cashton, when you’re not here all she does is lay around all day and watch TV.” Her mom said pointedly as she slipped off the bar stool and made her way towards the pair, wheeling her suitcase behind her. Shay let out a breathless sigh and narrowed her eyes at her mom’s subtle attempt at bringing the long-buried events of that lonely summer to the surface again. If there was one thing Maggie Harris would go down in history for, it would be stirring the pot.

“That’s not true… today I laid around and read a book.” Shay said giving her mom a weary look in warning. Shay didn’t think she could handle trudging up the past yet, though she wasn’t sure why such a thing scared her so deeply. It’s not like Cash could gossip about her past predicament to the whole school now or anything, so what was standing in her way?

“Make sure she eats something too.” Maggie said, ignoring             Shay’s statement as she focused her blue eyes on Cash. Shay’s eyes only narrowed further as she looked quickly between her mother and Cash with a scowl-like pout on her face. She couldn’t believe the two of them were actually trying to have a silent conversation in front of her right now, all while Cash still had her wrapped up in his arms.

“Alright Mrs. Harris” Cash said, lifting his chin off Shay’s shoulder he flashed her what she could only assume was an attempt at a reassuring smile. Shay looked up at him suspiciously and wondered just what he and her mother had discussed when she wasn’t around and when they even had managed to make time to talk about her.

“This sounds an awful lot like babysitting to me…” Shay muttered under her breath, Cash flashed her another smile and began dragging his hands in soothing motions along her exposed waist and navel. The action was almost titillating enough to make Shay forget how annoyed she was getting with her mom’s meddlesome scheming. Shay felt a small wave of arousal wash over her at the feel of Cash’s large, warm hands caressing her now goosebump ridden skin. She found herself stifling a surely erotic sounding sigh of contentment as she gazed up at him doe eyed, nibbling on the inner side of her cheek while her stomach did excitedly nervous flips. Cash seemed to only pick up on her nerves though, he bowed down to place another tender kiss in her hair with a trace of a blush on his cheeks. Shay’s eyes fluttered closed, trying to rein in the now ragged breaths of want and need, escaping her lips. The clock’s tedious ticking seemed to slow to a pause for the briefest of moments and that invisible line was quite nearly erased from Shay’s mind when Cash’s lips left her hair and dared to ghost her flushed cheek. Shay’s eyes snapped open in a bashful surprise and met Cash’s deep blue orbs and sheepish grin once more. But the moment was over as quickly as it began, and the imaginary clocks tedious ticking resumed in Shay’s head with an almost spiteful vengeance as Maggie Harris’ next words hit Shay’s ears.

“She’s been a little depressed, you know.” Her mom said in a soft matter of fact type of tone that made Shay’s jaw clench in frustration. She so wished her mother would stop telling people her problems and diagnosing her whenever she saw fit. Sure, Shay was down in the dumps the past few months… or years, but that didn’t mean she was beyond repair…

“Mom! Stop telling people I’m depressed!” Shay scolded her with a now prominent scowl on her face though her stomach still made excited flips with each soothing pass Cash’s large, calloused hands made over her exposed skin. It wasn’t enough to subside Shay’s annoyance as she glared at her mother with a flushed face.

“Relax pumpkin, it’s just Cash.” Maggie said softly, but her tone was dismissive. Shay let out an exasperated, low groan and ignored the way Cash immediately pulled her small frame closer to his chest when she tried to take an attempt at an intimidating step towards her smug looking mother.

“It’s not just Cash, I know you told DeDe Green the same thing!” Shay said pointedly, Maggie let out an exasperated sigh of her own and gave Shay one of her scolding, maternal stares. Shay let out another groan, though it sounded more like a growl with her increasing annoyance, Cash increased the pace of the soothing patterns his slightly rough finger pads made against Shay’s skin.

“Okay! Mrs. Harris, I think my mom is waiting for you in the car. Pretty sure I heard her honk the horn. You guys go have a good time at the festival this week, Shay and I will get that attic all cleaned out for you, don’t worry.” Cash said reassuringly, he made a few more soothing caresses before finally letting go of Shay’s waist to grab her mom’s suitcase. The loss of Cash’s warm body against hers left Shay feeling cold and almost empty as his sudden shift away from her brought her back to reality. The invisible line was becoming less blurry, but Shay still found herself reaching back out to him with a shaky hand instinctively because all she ever wanted was to feel his warm touch all over her skin forever. Cash glanced back at her with a soft expression on his face and laced her small shaky fingers with his large steady ones. Shay flushed again, this time in embarrassment that she’d reached out for Cash without even thinking about it though part of her wished she could do things without thinking about it all the time. Especially when it came to Cashton Ewing.

“Okay, bye you two have fun but beha…” Maggie Harris didn’t get to finish her sentence because Cash began insistently ushering her towards the front door, rolling the suitcase with one hand while his other held Shay’s so tenderly she thought her heart might burst as his thumb caressed the back of her hand. Shay couldn’t help but stare at their interlocked fingers with a bashfully smitten blush and smile on her face, she could hear her mother babbling about something, but it sounded a lot like when the adults on Charlie Brown talk, utter nonsense.

“Yeah, okay, bye mom, have fun.” Shay said in a dismissive tone that definitely sounded snarky, but Shay was still too focused on Cash and her interlocked fingers to care. It still caught her by surprise when he’d hold her hand even though he held it the whole way into the restaurant mere days ago. In the moment, their tender touches and instant chemistry always made sense to Shay, but the aftermath always left her feeling so confused. She often found herself rethinking every detail of the time they spent together when she sat awake in the wee hours of the morning staring out her window. Something she’d be doing tonight without a doubt, to talk herself out of her brain mistaking Cash’s… friendliness for anything more than it was, for anything more than it meant to him even if it meant the world to her…

“Bye Mrs. Harris, tell my mom bye again for me” Cash said sharply, Shay looked up from their hands for a moment to watch Cash usher her mom out the door hastily before all but slamming it shut. Shay gazed up at him sheepishly through her thick lashes, her mind was still reeling a mile a minute and she found she was unsure of what to do with herself. There were voices in her head screaming at her to let go of his large hand, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. In fact, Shay found herself inching closer to him mindlessly.

“She’s getting to be too much in her old divorcee age, we have to get her a boyfriend or something…” Shay said jokingly though her expression was incredibly sheepish as she gazed up at Cash with doe like green eyes. Cash bit down on his lip and let out another soft chuckle as he gazed back down at her with a coquettish glint in his blue eyes once more. The action had Shay getting swept up in another brief current of arousal and she found herself biting down on her own lip with a dusty pink blush spreading across her cheeks. Her eyes lingered on his lips for longer than necessary…

“Her and my mom both, they’re a little too invested in our lives… They’re going to spend the whole festival gabbing about us you know.” Cash crooned causing Shay to pull her eyes off his lips to meet his gaze with a sheepish smile on her face. Cash returned her gaze of course but she could’ve sworn Cash’s blue orbs had been lingering on her lips the same way her green ones had been on his. Shay awkwardly cleared her throat and realized their fingers were still perfectly intertwined like two pieces of a puzzle. Sometimes Shay thought she and Cash were made for each other because she never really felt complete unless he was somewhere near. In fact, she felt mostly empty without him she swore he was the only one who could make her feel anything and everything….

“Yeah, I’m sure they are…I’m uh, not depressed you know.” Shay trailed softly, finally making an attempt to move towards the attic staircase. She half expected Cash to just let go of her hand at that point, but he didn’t. His grip only tightened on Shay’s small hand as they ventured down the hall towards the attic, almost like he was trying to keep her from slipping away from him somehow though she was sure it was just her mind running away from her again. Shay wondered how he hadn’t figured out she never wanted to slip away from him to begin with. If he’d asked her not to go to NYU all those years ago, she would’ve stayed in a heartbeat, without a second thought but he never did. So, she went off to live something resembling a life though it felt more like existing than living.

“I know you’re not depressed Cherry Blossom…nothing wrong with saying you’re having a hard time though. You wouldn’t be the only one, you know so, no judgement on my part beautiful.” Cash said in a gentle tone of reassurance, Shay felt her cheeks heat up again at the word beautiful rolling off his tongue effortlessly though she couldn’t help the wave of suspicion that washed over her. He hardly ever commented on her appearance after that bittersweet Valentines Day at the movies. Which she took as confirmation of his guilt for inviting her to fifth wheel on his double date at the time. Sure, Cash tried to make it up to her by taking her ice skating and buying her heaps of her favorite candy before retreating back to her house for one of their traditional movie nights.

“Right, Casanova. Are things not going so well for you over in New Jersey?” Shay said lightheartedly though her tone was sincere as she met his gaze for the first time since they wandered out of the kitchen. Cash looked down at her with an unreadable emotion swirling in his eyes just as they stopped their stroll at the bottom of the attic stairs. Shay could feel the sudden emotional shift between them almost instantly and she found herself regretting asking such a prying. She knew a serious conversation between them was inevitable, but she so wished it could wait until she was done holding his hand…

“Jersey is… alright I guess I don’t really know many people outside of the department so, it gets a little lonely. I spend most of my free time staring out my apartment window, watching the waves on the Hudson River.” Cash said softly, Shay caught the faintest hint of a blush sweep across his cheeks at the admittance and found herself wondering why he found such a detail embarrassing.

“I think most adults do that Cashy that’s nothing to be embarrassed about, making friends in adulthood is hard I only talk to people from work too. At least you have a good view of the water, my loft is big and all, but all that space makes it feel quite lonesome and on top of that it only has views of the Manhattan skyline. I’d prefer the Hudson River; you know for homesick sake.” Shay said sheepishly, she wasn’t sure why she’d openly complained about her sequestered loft in such a way. She’d complained about such a thing once to a coworker and was met with the poor little rich girl spiel about how she should be grateful she had a nice expensive loft in the heart of Manhattan. And Shay could understand why she should be grateful to some extent, but a spacious loft didn’t take away the fact she now had no one to share it with. Cash tugged on Shay’s arm slightly, pulling her out of her inner ramblings with a serious look in his ocean blue eyes.

“Well, my apartment is on the smaller side, but I’ve got a view of the river and Manhattan Cherry Blossom. I wouldn’t even charge you rent considering you’re on the fence about making a career shift and all…” Cash trailed nonchalantly, Shay raised her brows at him in dumfounded surprised as she processed what he was proposing to her right now. They’d had several conversations like this when they were kids, she remembered a particular conversation when they were about ten. When Cash declared they’d run away from Plymouth and be together forever, promises only a child untainted by the morose weight of adulthood or the woes of adolescence could make.

“Are you…asking me to move in with you Cashton?” Shay asked with her eyebrows still raised in surprise even as her green eyes took in the fact that his expression was undoubtedly sincere. Cash nodded his head almost instantly.

“Well yeah, I think it would solve both of our lonesome problems and you’ll save a ton of money moving out of the city. Just letting you know it’s an option, I don’t need an answer right away or anything just think about it Cherry Blossom.” Cash shrugged nonchalantly, in a way that made it seem he was talking about something as casual as the weather. Shay nodded her head in acknowledgement even though she had no intention of actually considering such a proposition. Her feelings for Cash Ewing were way too deep for Shay to needlessly torture herself by being his roommate no matter how much she wanted to.

“I don’t think I want a roommate Cash but thanks anyway…um, let’s get started on cleaning huh” Shay said shifting the conversation to something seemingly less daunting and awkward for the time being. Cash nodded his head wordlessly, but Shay thought she saw a hint of dejection in his eyes even as he tightened his grip on her hand yet again as she began to walk up the stairs. An obvious thick layer of uncomfortable silence had fallen between them now and Shay couldn’t help the guilt now swirling in her stomach at the look on Cash’s face no matter how brief it was.

“I haven’t been up here in ages… I see your mom’s been busy with renovation too. It’s very cozy up here now” Cash said trying to ease some of the tension in the air when they halted at the top of the stairs. Shay nodded her head in agreement, taking in the new plush sectional, freshly painted walls and sleek entertainment center her mom had put in the attic sometime over the last few years.

“That makes two of us, no clue why she wanted a second living room, but it looks nice. The last time I was up here I was redoing my bedroom, that’s what most of this stuff is. Some of it’s yours too though I guess, from when your mom redid the basement. You want to bring some boxes over and I’ll plug in a movie?” Shay asked softly, Cash nodded his head once again, but Shay was happy to see a smile make its way onto his face for the first time since they left the kitchen.

“Sure thing gorgeous, but I’m going to need my hand back” Cash said in a soft teasing tone that had Shay’s face flushing a vibrant shade of pink. She reluctantly unlatched her now clammy hand from Cash’s larger one just as a sheepishly nervous string of laughter escaped her lips. She could hear Cash chuckling under his breath before placing a ginger kiss into her hair for the third time today.

“We’ll be holding hands again before the days over, trust me, Cherry Blossom. Why’d you redo your room anyway if you don’t mind me asking” Cash said lightheartedly, Shay watched him pile large cardboard boxes into his strong arms for an embarrassing amount of time. She couldn’t help but be transfixed by the way his rippling biceps flexed with every move he made She had to all but force her feet to walk over to the entertainment center so she could focus her eyes and rein in the implosion of impure thoughts and inklings that stomped through her head at the sight.

“Just wanted something new it was all a bit juvenile, and I know you thought the pink and orange were nauseatingly obnoxious. I thought you’d like the muted blues and grays better, but you didn’t really come over that much after that summer a…” Shay shrugged to herself as her hands rummaged through the entertainment center’s cabinets full of old DVDs and VHS cassette tapes.

“No Shay, I loved your bedroom that way what gave you the idea that I didn’t?” Cash asked seriously. Shay could tell he was near the couch now even with her back turned towards the TV, she let out a soft sigh as she finally settled on When Harry Met Sally for the time being.

“Cash, you don’t have to lie alright I heard you telling Pete and Opal May that you hated it, it’s really okay. I don’t care about it anymore believe me.” Shay said dismissively, placing the disc in the player and hitting the close button. She made sure to wipe the trace of a scowl off her face before she turned around to meet Cash’s gaze, his eyes looked a mix of confusion, anger, and offended all at the same time when they met hers from his spot on the couch. He looked surprisingly small surrounded by heaps of brown boxes full of long forgotten repressed memories and feelings….

“I don’t know what you overheard Shaylee but it’s just not true. I really liked your room I spent more time in yours than I did my own because everything in it was warm and comforting. Especially when my dad was around, I couldn’t really sleep well anywhere else because I felt safest there with you.” Cash said in a way that was so soft and vulnerable Shay swore she felt her heart melt and shatter simultaneously. Shay’s brain didn’t quite register exactly when her feet had carried her over to the couch or Cash’s side but before she knew it, they were face to face. Close enough to kiss him if she wanted to but she couldn't go there…

“If I knew it was that level of comforting for you Cashy, I never would have changed it, I’m so sorry…” Shay’s voice was barely a whisper by the time her arms had flung themselves around his neck in the form of a tender embrace. She could feel Cash snake, his strong arms around her waist and the warm tantalizing caress of his hot breath hitting her cheek and hair as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“It’s okay Cherry Blossom, really” Cash cooed out in a reassuring tone just as his hands started to run along her spine in soothing circles. Shay let out a content sounding sigh at the action and felt small waves of whatever emotion was bubbling inside her leave her small form with every pass Cash’s hands gently made over her exposed skin.

🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝

[mightyflamethrower]

Trump Derangement Syndrome became Orwellian with the recent ruling of the Colorado Supreme Court.

It approved the erasure of Trump from the Republican primary ballot in Colorado, by invoking Section 3 of the 14th Amendment.

That ossified clause was intended to bar any ante-bellum federal officials who joined the Confederacy from again holding federal offices after 1865.

In no way is Trump’s conduct on January 6 comparable to calling for secession, much less prompting a Civil War that cost the country 700,000 lives.

An “insurrectionist” president does not address unarmed protestors with qualifiers like, “I know that everyone here will soon be marching over to the Capitol building to peacefully and patriotically make your voices heard.”

How also can one be guilty of insurrection without ever being indicted for such a supposed crime, much less convicted of it? 

And the more we learn about January 6, all the more it appears to have been a spontaneous riot, more buffoonish in nature than conspiratorial.

No one has explained the mysterious, politicized January 6 refusal of the Speaker of the House to order a reinforcement of the Capitol police.

Or the FBI stonewalling about its informants in the crowd.

Or the revealing admissions of New York Times reporter Matthew Rosenberg (“a ton of FBI informants among the people who attacked the Capitol”).

Or the warped composition and conduct of the January 6 congressional committee.

Or the months-long official disinformation surrounding the number and circumstances of those who died that day.

That day’s illegality in terms of violence and death paled in comparison to the largely excused and exempted 120 days of summer violence in 2020, when Antifa and BLM engineered riots, arson, and death.

Their planned violence accounted for 35 or so killed, and more than 1,500 injured police officers.

Some $1-2 billion in property was destroyed.

A police precinct, federal courthouse, and iconic Washington, D.C. church were torched.

Mobs attempted to storm the White House grounds and sent the president into a secure underground bunker.

But if one really wishes to imagine genuine “insurrectionary “and actionable language, then recall current Vice President Kamala Harris’s 2020 de facto encouragement to the rioters,

But they’re not gonna stop. They’re not gonna stop, and this is a movement, I’m telling you. They’re not gonna stop, and everyone beware, because they’re not gonna stop. They’re not gonna stop before Election Day in November, and they’re not gonna stop after Election Day. Everyone should take note of that, on both levels, that they’re not going to let up — and they should not. And we should not.

Or remember this 2020 insurrectionary warning to two sitting Supreme Court Justices by then Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer.

At the very doors of the court, Schumer revved up an angry crowd with undisguised threats:

I want to tell you Gorsuch. I want to tell you Kavanaugh. You have released the whirlwind and you will pay the price. You won’t know what hit you if you go forward with these awful decisions.

The Colorado court ruling is sadly only the most recent in a long series of disastrous firsts that are slowly unwinding the republic and making a mockery of the rule of law.

Remember the Russian collusion hoax and the 2016 Clinton/Fusion GPS effort to destroy a presidential candidate?

Recall the 2020 Russian disinformation farcical claim concerning the genuine Hunter Biden laptop?

Do not forget the precedent of impeaching a president twice and then trying an ex-president and private citizen in the Senate.

Then there was another first of raiding an ex-president’s private home over disputes about the removal of presidential papers that are typically solved bureaucratically and as a civil matter.

We are also witnessing ongoing lawfare waged by state and local partisan prosecutors to destroy the current leading presidential candidate.

Their indictments either have no merit or would never have applied to liberal politicians or both.

What will be Colorado’s precedent?

Will red-state courts now respond by erasing Joe Biden from their ballots on grounds that he is “guilty” of insurrectionary activity—by deliberately destroying the southern border, undermining U.S. security, sabotaging federal immigration law, and violating his oath of office?

Will some states remove Vice President Kamala Harris from their 2024 ballots on grounds that in 2020 she deliberately incited insurrectionary protestors who had been engaged in riot, arson, looting, violent assaults on police, and attacks on federal properties?

So does the Left see where it is taking the country?

It is destroying all the old parameters of accepted politics in using any means necessary to deny millions of citizens the right to elect their own highest official.

We have never seen anything like this before in American history. But it is only the latest chapter of an ongoing travesty that will not end well.

[nityarawal]

She's dead! Thank God! 

Parents get your kids & assets back plus reparations! 

Morgan & I are tweeting a storm celebrating Demise of biggest 'Barracuda Mamma' Madam of Family courts. Lori was a pillow for attys & officers- a placating cupie doll & sex toy of Atty Charles Viviano. 

Lori Clark Viviano was like a Hitler Transvestite. 

A huge cloud lifted over San Diego. 

All art & songs about Shark can be seen at @nityalakshmi108 & @nityalakshmi - Twitter Journalist sharing psychological thriller in San Diego's broken courts! 

Can you believe corrupt DA is still raping my kids & I on a dead attys orders? 

Did a shark eat her? 

We can only pray. 

Scuba diving playbook is so cute isn't it? What a great way to go! 

Did Morgan OD her?

Who can blame her? 

I was a victim of Lori's cruel pranks for 6 years! 

Thank God the toxic whale of court is dead. 

Honestly we can only compare her Demise to that of Hitler- it's a glorious purification for #PrinceOfPegging courts!

Wrote a new song for Sordid Lizard Queen & posted shark photos songs. 

Prayers for all Mothers of Sandiego raped & murdered for her services! 

We need full reparations! 

Posted pictures of how she rearranged my face for being a realtor mom who set up homeschools & advocated natural birth/attachment parenting. 

Her officers raped my kids & I (24+ times) & extorted 1067 Neptune Ave & 30+ aps/businesses assets. 

Thank God toxic whale is Dead! 

No one could sustain her gluttonous appetite & our charities will put maximum liens on all her businesses & homes until we have full reparations for her civil damages to my family, communities, sisterhood & loved ones.

Peace.

RIP Baracuda Mamma. 

Thank You God.

Nitya Huntley Rawal

Contact nityahuntley@gmail.com for class Action settlement with all criminals in Lori Clark Viviano sex sting. 

We're you raped on Mothers Day From your home by sex sting? 

Were you & kids Hustled by hookers & gigolos groomed by an atty Epstein militia Nazi sting? 

Yes? 

#metoo

Let's end this war on families by Nazis of Germany and put whole Sordid #PrinceOfPegging clan to rest now. 

We've asked DA Summer Stephan & her husband's Judge Sawbraw to settle w/ VP DA Kamala Harris. 

All of you clients need to release your x's and children from Lori's lying Sordid toxic glutinous orders. 

Thank God the whale sunk to bottom of ocean & sharks finally got better of her so she stops polluting our California waters and lands. 

Hallelujah! 

The Baracuda Mamma is dead! 

We will sing of this marvelous grace & glory for eternity. 

The great whale of Mary Kay Letourneau pedophilia & Dr Gardner Groomers is dead. 

Release our children from their gross Maya now. 

@rewind this & get my kids. 

Thanks! Xo

[malereader-inserts]

Bigger Picture

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Sirius Black & Son!Reader Summary: Remus knows that Sirius always fails to see the bigger picture, so he tells him once to do it - but, at this point, it might be a bit late Word Count: 1,334 Request: Can you write about Sirius black having a son but always being second best or Harry. Thank you!

You looked at Harry, holding back the tears as you come down the stairs. You swallowed back down the lump in your throat as you pass Harry and Molly in the doorway of the kitchen, you were only trying to get to the dining room for tea. But, you really didn’t want to see Harry hug your dad like that. 

You let out a shaky breath, biting your lip as you turn away - engaging yourself in a conversation with the twins, not noticing how your Uncle Remus had noticed that you weren’t looking good. 

You’ve been living with your dad for this year summer and summer after the third year. You, your dad and Remus had a blast of just you three, for the first time, you felt like you had a family. But, in the back of your mind, you knew you could never compare to Harry. 

It’s almost as if your dad had wished Harry was his own son.

You understand that Harry was his best friend’s son. James was pretty influential in your dad’s life, treating him as if he was part of the Potter family. You understand that Sirius and Remus is Harry’s last shot of having a family, understanding what love is from family, but you like to be remembered as well.

You know that you’re going to feel worst that Harry is back, and you know it’s not Harry’s fault. But, the days that Harry wasn’t here in the house, Sirius at least acknowledge that you were his son. 

It hurts to watch, to see Sirius pat Harry on the shoulder, give him a tight hug as a greeting. You hold back the tears when you witness Sirius ruffling his hair, joking around with him as if Harry was his son. 

It was so much easier before Harry came along, you did your best not to look or act bitter, in fact, no one really picked up on your off-standish behaviour other than Remus, but then again, Remus is a very observant person. You knew you couldn’t compare yourself to Harry. Harry is the chosen one, he never asked for a life like this - you couldn’t possibly act so selfishly now.

But, you hadn’t had a father for twelve years, you had no family to turn you. Your mother wasn’t the greatest, she even told you that she wished you were never born, after eight years of pathetically taking care of you, she walked out of your life - Remus was the one that took you in, even if he was struggling to provide of himself, he would do anything for you. His best friend’s son. 

He knew you hadn’t had the best childhood, he could pick up signs of trauma - the feeling of not being cared for, not being loved, not wanted at all. When you got to Hogwarts, Remus was happy that you made it to Gryffindor, he’d like to think that Sirius would be overjoyed to know that his son is in his house too. But, Remus couldn’t shield you from your cousin, Draco, and his relentless mocking.

That you would never redeem yourself to the family, how that the Blacks and families associated with your family name will never give you time of day for being Gryffindor. You were simply never good enough in anyone’s eyes.

Remus tried telling Sirius one night.

“He’s fine, (Y/n) is a strong lad,” Sirius laughs it off but stops when Remus gives him a look that Sirius remembers, Sirius sighs, “I think I know my son better than you, Moony.”

“I don’t think you do, Sirius,” Remus hums, sighing and keeping his hands in his pockets. He pursed his lips before shaking his head, “If only for once in your life you would open your eyes for the bigger picture, but if I remember correctly, I don’t think you’re capable of doing so.”

“I am!” Sirius argued back, “I’ll see what is going on with him.”

“Now, you’re sounding like it’s a task for you and not the bare necessity as a father,” Remus tsk at him, shaking his head in disappointment, “And you really think he’s going to open up to you if you walked up to him? Did you ever open up to us about your family when you were younger?”

“No.”

“Exactly, no.”

“So, what should I do? To fix what you claim is slowly cracking.”

Remus glared at his best friend, “Figure it out and stop being such a twat.”

Sirius watched Remus bids him and everyone in the room, who were in their own conversation, goodnight before heading to bed. The children were most likely to be asleep so it left Sirius with his own though. 

He hadn’t seen anything different from his own son.

You were interacting with your best friends as usual, and the other children. You were still joking about with Harry, nothing out of the sorts there. You were always close to Remus that he hadn’t actually noticed that his son was getting further close to his best friend. It was only a week later, in which, he had caught a hushed conversation that he knew he shouldn’t be apart of.

“I don’t get why he doesn’t want me,” You say, followed with soft sniffling. 

Sirius peered over the door to see you looking out the window with Remus, admiring the stars. Remus had a gentle hand on your back, rubbing it affectionately - Sirius’ first thought was that should be him. Comforting his own son.

“I’ve tried, you know? When it was just us three during the summer - I don’t get why I’m not good enough for him?”

“You are, (Y/n).”

“Clearly not,” You scoffed, shrugging off your uncle’s hand, “He wants Harry as a son, I will never be good enough for him - it’s Harry this, Harry that. Is it so selfish of me to wish that Harry was never born?”

Remus looks at you before watching you break into tears, Remus pulls you into a hug. You grip him tightly as he rubs your back, he hums to calm you down. Sirius watched in jealousness, he should be the one hugging you and comforting you, but he knows that he would scowl at you because Harry is an important piece in defeating the Dark Lord. 

“Hey, hey,” Remus says, “It’s okay to feel like that, (Y/n), and you’re good enough - okay?”

You wipe away your tears with the back of your hands, looking up at your uncle. Giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“For once, I thought I could get a father’s love but I can’t even get that from my own father and have to get it from his best friend,” You pull yourself from the hug, letting out a shaky breath, “Mum doesn’t want me, dad doesn’t want me, what’s the point of living then?”

“I care about you, and I want you to be here. You have a lot to experience, you have big exams this year coming - don’t you? You still need to travel the world, right?”

“I guess.”

“Then, therefore, there is a point of living. Okay?”

“Mhm,” You nodded, still not convinced at all. 

“I love you kid,” Remus says fondly, and Sirius wanted to storm in and punch him because he should be saying that to you, not Remus.

But, he sees you turn to him, there’s a fond smile on your face which breaks Sirius’ heart - when was the last time a smile like that was direct to him?

“I love you too, Uncle.”

And, Sirius wonders when the last time you told him you loved him. So, the next day, Sirius had tried to come up with things to become closer, have an actual father and son bond. But, he noticed at breakfast, you sat next to Remus. You, Hermione and Remus, were gushing out what books are really good and suggesting what to read. 

Sirius, finally seeing the bigger picture, realised he was losing his son. 

[causeiwanttoandican]

Harry, Meghan and me: my truth as a royal reporter

I've covered elections and extremism, but nothing compares to the vitriol I've received since I started writing about the Sussexes

By Camilla Tominey, Associate Editor27 March 2021 • 6:00am

It is probably worth mentioning from the outset that I never, ever, planned to become a royal reporter. I mean, who does? It’s one of those ridiculous jobs most people fall into completely by accident.

I certainly wasn’t coveting the position when I first found out how bonkers the beat could be after covering Charles and Camilla’s wedding in 2005. Desperate for ‘a line’ on what went on at the reception, journalists were reduced to flagging down passing cars in Windsor High Street and interrogating the likes of Stephen Fry about whether they’d had the salmon or the chicken.

Watergate, this wasn’t.

Yet when my former editor called me into his office shortly afterwards and offered me the royal job ‘because you’re called Camilla and you dress nicely’, who was I to refuse?

Having planned to get married myself that summer, and start a family soon afterwards, I looked to the likes of Jennie Bond and Penny Junor and figured it would be a good patch for a working mother as well as being one I could grow old with. Unlike show business, when celebrities are ‘in’ one minute and ‘out’ the next, the royals would stay the same, making it easier to build – and keep – contacts.

So if you’d told me that 16 years later, I would find myself at the centre of a media storm over a royal interview with Oprah Winfrey, I’d have probably laughed in your face. First of all, only royals like Fergie do interviews with Oprah. And since when did journalists become the story?

Yet as I have experienced since the arrival of Meghan Markle on the royal scene in 2016 – a move that roughly coincided with Twitter doubling its 140-character limitation to 280 – royal reporters like me now find themselves in the line of fire like never before.

We are used to the likes of Kate Adie coming under attack in the Middle East, but now it is the correspondents who write up events like Trooping the Colour and the Royal Windsor Horse Show having to take cover from the keyboard warriors supposedly defending the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s ‘truth’.

Accusations of racism have long been levelled against anyone who has dared to write less than undiluted praise of Harry and Meghan. But even I have been taken aback by the vitriol on social media in the wake of the couple’s televised two-hour talk-a-thon, in which they branded both the Royal family and the British press racist while complaining about their ‘almost unsurvivable’ multimillionaire lives at the hands of the evil monarchy. And all while the rest of the UK were losing their loved ones and livelihoods in a global pandemic.

Having covered Brexit, general elections and stories about Islamic extremism, I’ve grown used to being sprayed with viral vomit on a fairly regular basis, but when you’ve got complete strangers trolling your best friend’s Instagram feed by association? That’s Britney Spears levels of toxic.

Having a hind thicker than a rhino’s, it wasn’t the repeated references to my being ‘a total c—’ that particularly bothered me, nor even the suggestion that I should have my three children put up for adoption. At one point someone even said it would be a good idea for me to drink myself to death like my mother, about whose chronic alcoholism I have written extensively.

No, what really got me was the appalling spelling and grammar. I mean, if you’re going to hurl insults, at least have the decency to get my name right.

Yet in order to understand just how it has come to pass that so-called #SussexSquaders think nothing of branding all royal correspondents ‘white supremacists’ regardless of who they write for, or sending hate mail to our email addresses, offices – and in some cases, even our homes – it’s worth briefly going to back to when I first broke the story that Prince Harry was dating an American actor in the Sunday Express on 31 October 2016. Headlined: ‘Royal world exclusive: Harry’s secret romance with TV star’, the splash revealed how the popular prince was ‘secretly dating a stunning US actress, model and human rights campaigner’.

Despite my now apparently being on a par with the Ku Klux Klan for failing to acknowledge Meghan as the next messiah, it was actually not until the fifteenth paragraph of that original article that the ‘confident and intelligent’ Northwestern University graduate was described as ‘the daughter of an African-American mother and a father of Dutch and Irish descent’.

Call me superficial, but I was genuinely far more interested in the fact that Harry ‘I-come-with-baggage’ Wales was dating a former ‘briefcase girl’ from the US version of Deal or No Deal than the colour of her skin. A ginger prince punching well above his weight? This was the stuff of tabloid dreams. Little did I know then that covering the trials and tribulations of these two lovebirds would turn into such a nightmare.

The online hostility began bubbling up about eight days after that first story, when Harry’s then communications secretary Jason Knauf issued an ‘unprecedented’ statement accusing the media of ‘crossing a line’.

‘His girlfriend, Meghan Markle, has been subject to a wave of abuse and harassment’, it read, referencing a ‘smear on the front page of a national newspaper; the racial undertones of comment pieces; and the outright sexism and racism of social media trolls and web article comments’. Meghan’s mother, Doria Ragland, had apparently been besieged by photographers, while bribes had been offered to Meghan’s ex-boyfriend along with ‘the bombardment of nearly every friend, coworker, and loved one in her life’.

Suffice to say, I did feel a bit guilty. Although I hadn’t written anything remotely racist or sexist, I had started the ball rolling for headlines like the MailOnline’s ‘(Almost) straight outta Compton’ (referencing a song by hip-hop group NWA about gang violence and Meghan’s upbringing in the nearby LA district of Crenshaw), along with her ‘exotic’ DNA (which I subsequently called out, including on This Morning in the wake of ‘Megxit’ in January last year).

Omid Scobie, co-author of Finding Freedom, a highly favourable account of the Sussexes’ departure from the Royal family, written with their cooperation last summer, would later insist that the couple knew the story of their relationship was coming out and were well prepared for it.

I can tell you categorically that they weren’t, since I did not even put a call into Kensington Palace before we went to press for fear of it being leaked. (I did later discuss this with Harry, when I covered his trip to the Caribbean in November 2016, and to be fair he was pretty philosophical, agreeing it would have come out sooner or later. But that was before the former Army Captain decided to well and truly shoot the messenger, latterly telling journalists covering the newly-weds’ tax-payer-funded October 2018 tour of Australia and the south Pacific: ‘Thanks for coming, even though you weren’t invited.’)

The royal press pack is the group of dedicated writers who cover all the official engagements and tours on a rota system, in exchange for not bothering the royals as they go about their private business. It was a shame this ragtag bunch, of which I am an associate member, was never personally introduced to Meghan when the couple got engaged in November 2017.

I still have fond memories of a then Kate Middleton, upon her engagement to Prince William in November 2010, showing me her huge sapphire and diamond ring following a press conference at St James’s Palace with the words, ‘It was William’s mother’s so it is very special.’

I replied that she might want to consider buying ‘one of those expanding accordion style file holders’ to organise all her wedding paperwork. (Reader, I had given birth to my second child less than four months earlier and was still lactating.)

Not meeting Meghan did not stop royal commentators like me writing reams about her being ‘a breath of fresh air’ and telling practically every TV show I appeared on that she was the ‘best thing to have happened to the Royal Family in years’.

As the world followed the joyous news of the Windsors’ resident strip billiards star having finally found ‘the one’, the couple enjoyed overwhelmingly positive press culminating in their fairy-tale wedding in May 2018, which we headlined ‘So in love’ above a picture of the bride and groom kissing. I tweeted the wedding front page, along with the original story breaking the news of their relationship with the words, ‘Job done’. Yet, as Meghan would later point out in a glossy Santa Barbara garden, that was by far the end of the story.

According to the Duchess’s testimony before a global audience of millions, the seeds for their royal departure were actually sown by an article I wrote in November 2018 suggesting she made Kate cry during a bridesmaid’s dress fitting for Princess Charlotte.

Claiming the ‘reverse happened’, the former Suits star railed, ‘A few days before the wedding she was upset about something, pertaining to, yes, the issue was correct, about flower-girl dresses, and it made me cry, and it really hurt my feelings.’

She then went on to criticise the palace for failing to correct the story – suggesting that royal aides had hung her out to dry to protect the Duchess of Cambridge.

All of which left me in a bit of a sticky situation. As I told Phillip Schofield on This Morning the following day, ‘I don’t write things I don’t believe to be true and that haven’t been really well sourced.’

Having seemingly been completely bowled over by Meghan’s version of events, Schofe then went for the jugular: ‘I have to say, though, that’s all addressed in that interview, isn’t it, because she [Meghan] couldn’t understand why nobody stood up for her?’

Yet someone had stood up for her, on that very same This Morning sofa: me.

As I told Phil and Holly on 14 January 2019, as more reports of ‘Duchess Difficult’ started to emerge, ‘I think she [Meghan] is doing really well, she looks amazing, she speaks well. She has played a blinder.’

So you’ll forgive me if I can’t quite understand why Meghan didn’t feel the need to correct this supposedly glaring error once she had her own dedicated head of communications from March 2019 – or indeed when she ‘collaborated’ with Scobie, who concluded in his bestselling hagiography that ‘no one cried’?

Moreover, how did the Duchess know a postnatal Kate wasn’t ‘left in tears’? And if she doesn’t know, what hope has the average troll observing events through the prism of their own deep-rooted insecurities?

It appears the actual truth ceases to matter once sides have been taken in the unedifying Team Meghan versus Team Kate battle that has divided the internet.

Make no mistake, there are abject morons at both extremes spewing the sort of bile that, ironically, makes most of the media coverage of Harry and Meghan look like a 1970s edition of Jackie magazine.

It perhaps didn’t help my case that the day before the interview was aired in the US, I had written a lengthy piece carefully weighing up the evidence behind allegations of ‘outrageous bullying’ that had been levelled against Meghan during what proved to be a miserable 20 months in the Royal family for all concerned.

The messages – to my Twitter feed, my email, my website and official Facebook page – ranged from the threatening, to the typical tropes about media ‘scum’ and the downright bizarre. Some accused me of being in cahoots with Carole Middleton, with whom I have never interacted, unless you count a last-minute Party Pieces purchase in a desperate moment of poor parental planning.

Another frequent barb was questioning why the press wasn’t writing about that ‘pedo’ [sic] Prince Andrew instead – seemingly oblivious to the fact that no one would know about the Duke of York’s links to Jeffrey Epstein if it wasn’t for the acres of coverage devoted to the story by us royal hacks over recent years.

It didn’t matter that I had repeatedly torn the Queen’s second, and, some say, favourite son to pieces for everything from his propensity to take his golf clubs on foreign tours to that disastrous Newsnight interview.

Contrary to the ‘invisible contract’ Harry claims the palace has with the press, royal coverage works roughly like this: good royal deeds = good publicity. Bad royal deeds = bad publicity. We effectively act as a critical friend, working on behalf of a public that rightly expects the royals to take the work – but not themselves – seriously.

So when a royal couple preaches about climate change before taking four private jets in 11 days, it is par for the course for a royal scribe to point out the inconsistency of that message. None of it is ever personal, as evidenced by the fact that practically every member of the monarchy has come in for flak over the years.

If Oprah wasn’t willing to point out the discrepancies in Harry and Meghan’s testimony, surely it is beholden on royal reporters to question how the Duchess had managed to undertake four foreign holidays in the six months after her wedding, in addition to official tours to Italy, Canada, and Amsterdam, as well as embarking on a lengthy honeymoon, if she had ‘turned over’ her passport?

While no one would wish to undermine the extent of her mental health problems, could it really be true that she only left the house twice in four months when she managed to cram in 73 days’ worth of engagements, according to the Court Circular, in the 17 months between her wedding and the couple’s departure to Canada?

And what of the ‘racist’ headlines flashed up during the interview purporting to be from the British press, when more than a third were actually taken from independent blogs and the foreign media? The UK media abides by the Independent Press Standards Organisation’s Code of Conduct ‘to avoid prejudicial or pejorative reference to an individual’s race’, as well as by rigorous defamation laws. And rightly so – the British press doesn’t always get it right. But social media is the Wild West by comparison, publishing vile slurs on a daily basis with impunity.

Some therefore find it strange that such a litigious couple would claim to have been ‘silenced’ when they have made so many complaints, including resorting to legal action, over stories they claim not to have even read. There is something similarly contradictory about a couple accusing the tabloids of lacking self-reflection while refusing to take any blame at all – for anything.

In any normal world, informed writing on such matters would be classed as fair comment, but not, seemingly, on Twitter where those completely lacking any objectivity whatsoever are only too willing to virtue signal and manoeuvre.

As the trolling reached fever pitch in the aftermath of the interview, veteran royal reporter Robert Jobson of the Evening Standard called me. ‘Don’t respond to these freaks,’ he advised. ‘It’s getting nasty out there. Watch your back!’

Yet despite my general sense of bewilderment at the menacing Megbots, I can’t say it didn’t appal me to discover a close friend had received online abuse, purely by dint of being my mate. After discussing the lengths the troll must have gone to to track her down, she asked me, ‘Do you ever worry someone might do something awful to you?’ Er, not until now, no.

Of course it’s upsetting, even for a cynical old-timer like me. Worse still are people who actually know me casting aspersions on my profession on social media. Often these are the same charlatans who would think nothing of sidling up to me for the latest gossip on the Royal family, while publicly pretending that reading any such coverage is completely beneath them.

Most pernicious of all though – not least after Piers Morgan’s departure from Good Morning Britain following a complaint to ITV and Ofcom from the Duchess – is the corrosive effect this whole hullabaloo is having on freedom of speech. When you’ve got a former actor effectively editing a British breakfast show from an £11 million Montecito mansion, what next?

I cannot help but think we are in danger of setting race relations back 30 years if people are seriously suggesting that any criticism of Meghan is racially motivated. It’s the hypocrisy that gets me. When Priti Patel was accused of bullying, the very same people who willingly hung the Home Secretary out to dry are now the ones defending Meghan against such claims, saying they have been levelled at her simply because she is ‘a strong woman of colour’.

Of course journalists should take responsibility for everything they report and be held to account for it – but Harry and Meghan do not have a monopoly on the truth simply because the close friend and neighbour who interviewed them in return for £7 million from CBS took what they said as gospel.

If she isn’t willing to probe the disparity between Meghan saying someone questioned the colour of Archie’s skin when she was pregnant, and Harry suggesting it happened before they were even married, then someone must. There’s a name for such scrutiny. It’s called journalism.

The public reserves the right to make up its own mind – with the help of the watchful eye of a free and fair press. But that press can never be free or fair if journalists do not feel they can report without fear or favour. I’m lucky that a lot of the criticism I face is more than balanced out by hugely supportive members of the public and online community who either agree – or respect the right to disagree. Along with the hate mail, I have had many thoughtful and eloquent missives, including those that good naturedly challenge what I have written in the paper or said on TV, which have genuinely given me pause for thought.

I am more than happy to enter into constructive discourse with these correspondents, who are frankly sometimes the only people who keep me on Twitter. I mean, let’s face it, I wouldn’t be anywhere near the bloody thing if this wasn’t my day job.

With the National Union of Journalists this month declaring that harassment and abuse had ‘become normalised’ within the industry, never have members of Britain’s press needed more courage. As Winston Churchill famously said, ‘You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.’

Who would have thought that the preservation of the fundamental freedoms that we hold so dear should partially rest on the shoulders of those who follow around a 94-year-old woman and her family for a living?

If I’d known then what I know now, would I still have written the bridesmaid’s dress story?

Yes – doubtlessly reflecting sisterly sobs all round. But after two decades in this business, I am clear-eyed enough to know this for certain: whatever I had written, it would still have ended in tears.

[fw00shy]

hello!! i see that you're taking prompts 👀❣️ i would love to see your take on hitman draco - whose next target is harry

hello shal!! I loved your prompt and wanted to write something super dangerous and sexy for it, but instead I wrote this. 😅 

Horrible Luck

Harry/Draco | M | 2.8k | Hit-Wizards, Humor, Catsuit, brief mention of dudley working out in front of the telly | ao3 link

When does a relationship stop moving forward and start looping back like a broken time-turner, intent on rewinding the same disagreements in perpetude? When did all the little quirks Draco used to love about Harry turn into a list of things he wouldn't need to deal with if he were alone? Draco's mind is on his kitchen table this morning — specifically, the half-eaten plate of eggs that Harry left behind; Harry knows the kneazle will sick up from it — so Draco doesn't notice the name on his latest assignment until he's already signed off the disclosure forms.

Harry James Potter.

"We don't need him dead for a few days," Pansy's saying. "Just get it done before the Rodney Snyder Bill comes to a vote in Parliament on Monday."

"Get it done..." Draco trails off, swallowing sickly.

"Yes, Draco? Sorry — oh-thirteen. Blast this numbering system. It isn't as though you're on my payroll as 013. I'm tempted to order a hit on you just so I won't need to write all five bloody titles of yours every two weeks. Only joking, of course — Draco? You alright there?" She taps the heel of her stiletto against the desk, where she has it propped up next to her coffee.

Draco blinks. "Right, yes. Before the Rodney Snyder Bill. Which bill is that again?"

"It's the usual hem-haw about how life is so unfair blahblahblah." Pansy waves the peacock-feathered quill in her left hand. "Don't worry yourself over it. Are you all worked up because it's Harry Potter? I know you had a bit of a tiff with him back in school, but hadn't we all? Potter's an absolute waste of breath if you ask me."

"It's not that..."

"What is it? If it's because of his involvement in the last war, you needn't worry about that. All our sources report that he's nothing more than a tax acrobat for Muggles now, on the days that he's not wreaking havoc with his voting powers in Parliament. I don't know what half those words mean, but I want a drink just for saying them out loud."

Draco decides that it is probably not in his best interest to tell Pansy that Harry was actually a tax accountant, and yes — it is indeed as dull as Neville Longbottom's surprisingly round bottom if their dinnertime conversations concerning the subject matter are any indicator.

Draco's mind flits briefly back home. He hopes their kneazle didn't manage to eat any of the eggs before Draco cleaned up Harry's forgone plate. Who knows where she'll puke it up this time. If she ruins his pillow again... Potter is in for a slaying. Only verbally, of course.

"Don't worry about me," Draco says.

"I never do," Pansy says far too flippantly to be a lie. "As I said, you have a few days, so finesse it however you like. Toy with him a bit, for all I care. Get him in bed, then turn a wand on him — go wild. Now doesn't that sound exciting!"

Draco decidedly does not tell her about the last time he "turned a wand" on Harry in bed. Let's just say that it was both slippery and steamy and smelt faintly of strawberries.

"Alright, Pan — sorry, P. I'll get it done. You know I will."

"That's my boy," she smirks. "Now come give me a kiss before you go."

Pansy started demanding that sort of goodbye after she picked it up from a Muggle romcom. "Absolutely disgusting," she'd proclaimed, kissing Draco's cheeks. But the kisses stayed while the mocking subsided. Don't let it fool you, though — she still has plenty of unlearning to do. They get along fine as long as Pansy keeps her mouth shut.

Which is practically never. This is Pansy, after all. Her father liked to joke that she was born wailing for someone to wipe her arse. But Pansy is the only family Draco has left.

The next few days pass in the doldrums of a daily routine. Draco goes off to the local library and does his usual research (a combination of Muggle Internet and blood spells for tracking; Find My Friends is a godsend) despite knowing full well where Harry is at all times. He watches Harry's green dot make its way down the tube to the financial district by way of the Pret a Manger on 3rd Street. The blinking green dot doesn't move for several hours (it never does; Draco knows because he tracks Harry every few weeks out of paranoia). Draco is starving by noon, but he hangs on until three to see if Harry's dot will move the slightest; but alas, Harry is as much the meticulous Gryffindor hero at tax accounting as he was at Horcrux hunting; he doesn't do so much as grab a bite at the cafe in the lobby.

Harry heads home at precisely five-thirty. Draco waits a respectable fifteen minutes before doing the same, so Harry has time to put dinner on the table. The spread tonight smells delicious as it always is: roasted chicken and potatoes, broccolini, those purple carrots that Harry covets from the Muggle farmer's market; homemade treacle tart for dessert. Sometimes Draco wonders how Harry can manage all of this in the fifteen minutes he has before Draco gets home, but he never questions it for long. Who knows how cooking charms work. Not Draco. He's still a Malfoy, after all.

Harry kisses him good-evening before they sit for dinner. They share meaningless conversation about their day. Draco makes up some story about how Hannah in Marketing took the last premade salad he wanted from the deli down the block and is appalled over how, even in his made-up life, he's about as dull as Neville's — well, you know.

"If I hear another word about Neville Longbottom's surprisingly round bottom, I'm going to start thinking you want to fuck it," Harry declares while savagely tearing into his chicken thigh. Draco shudders at the sight; whoever taught Harry how to cook clearly forgot to teach him how to eat.

Still, it's a clear opening for a fight. Draco welcomes it as one does a summer storm, and soon they're throwing plates at each other. The kneazle (Morticia; Granger's idea) scampers out of the kitchen — that Hufflepuff coward — and Draco manages to graze Harry's left cheek before they stall to catch their breath.

The calm is a fallacy, of course; the eerie stillness of a storm's eye, broken up in the next minute with a low growl, and they're clawing at each other again. Except now, Draco is inexplicably hard.

But still, so incredibly bored.

What is the standard deviation of the time from start to Scourgify? Draco wouldn't be surprised if it's less than five minutes.

Monday comes and goes. Draco's thinking about Harry's dirty socks, the ones he tucks between the sofa cushions, while Pansy dresses him down for his latest failure.

"I swear, oh-thirteen. If we weren't like family..." Pansy trails off, her crimson-lacquered nail pointed threateningly at Draco.

"Sorry, Pans," Draco says, trying his level best to look his most innocent. It's not his fault he's an awful hit-wizard, alright? They should've known from his resume. Ronald Weasley, Katie Bell, Rosmerta, Dumbledore... mainly, he kills his marks by accident. He's got horrible luck.

Pansy declares that this is Draco's final chance. And then a week passes, and Harry stays alive. Draco's dead bored staring at his boyfriend's unmoving green dot all day on Apple Maps. He's made friends with Stephanie-the-librarian, though; they go out for a pick-me-up around three pm, and then Draco makes up stories about how she sends him racy pictures of their fake manager and this and that over dinner with Harry. All's okay if not precisely thrilling until the bill passes with Harry still alive, and then Draco reports to Pansy's office with Theo also in the room.

Theo is wearing a full suit, which is par for the course. But Draco knows he's in trouble because Pansy has her heels off her desk.

"Oh-thirteen," Theo booms. "You let the James Buckles Bill pass."

"Which one is that?" Draco asks between nervous swallows.

"Ten-percent increase in taxes on long-term capital gains," Theo explains the same time Pansy snaps, "None of your business."

"Right." Draco has no idea what these words mean. "Umm... sorry?"

"And the week before," Theo says, pacing now, "you let the Rodney Synder Bill pass."

"Ten-percent increase on income tax for those who make more than seven figures a year," Pansy says before Draco can ask.

Figures? Income? None of this means anything to Draco. If he wanted to be a solicitor... well, he's a Malfoy. Malfoys solicit, never solicitator. Or whatever the word for it is.

"It's only two bills, sir," Pansy pipes up in Draco's defence. "Meaningless in the grand scheme of things compared to the Pepper Oakley Bill tomorrow."

"What is —"

"Thirty-percent increase on property tax on all parcels of land within major metropolitan districts, and a twenty-percent increase on all property over two acres, compounding," Pansy hisses to Draco before turning her full attention back to Theo. "Which will not pass. Draco's been building up a relationship with the mark, hasn't he?" She kicks Draco with the pointed tip of her heel.

"Yes!" Draco yelps out in pain. "Yes, absolutely. I've been building... a relationship with Ha — the mark. He's umm. He thinks we're in love."

Theo regards Draco with narrowed eyes. "In love."

"Turns out he's desperately lonely," Draco says with a mocking sneer, though the truth is that they were both rather pathetic in the beginning.

Draco's story passes Theo's muster. He straightens up and gives them one last menacing glower before he leaves. Draco and Pansy stare at the door for a long, vacant second.

Pansy turns to Draco with a sigh when Theo's footsteps retreat down the hall. "Are you really seeing Potter?"

"Oh. Umm... sort of."

"I'm happy for you," she says. "You worry me, you know. Can't be too healthy for the aura with you sulking about all the time."

"Right," Draco says.

"Right," Pansy agrees. She schools her features. "Sorry about the, um — having to kill your boyfriend."

"It's alright," Draco says.

"Right." She coughs. "Well, then. I suppose you ought to go prep. Remember to get it done before tomorrow morning. If I were you, I'd get it done tonight, so you can stop worrying about it and have a decent night's sleep. Now come and give me a kiss before you go."

Draco short-circuits his usual trip to the library and heads straight home. The midday sun comes in too bright from the printed kitchen curtains. He's never noticed how disproportionately large the clumsily illustrated lemons are in comparison to the cherries and ice cubes — but that's what he gets for letting Harry pick the print. When Harry's dead, he'll replace them with a pattern worthy of the Malfoy name. He's always liked snakes and daggers (just the image of them; they're ghastly in reality).

He gets hungry enough around three to rifle through their cabinets for a snack. All he finds are two expired Twinkies and a can of tuna that he realises only after his first bite that it's meant for Morticia. He briefly considers popping by the library to see what Stephanie's up to before deciding against it. He needs to focus on murdering his boyfriend.

Draco is in the middle of purging his wardrobe when he finds his hit-wizard uniform hanging in the back. It's all black and one-piece, like a Muggle wetsuit but much sleeker, like a seal. But not as adorably chubby. More like Catwoman. Lithe, but deadly. Unfortunately, it's not a very practical uniform for murder, so Draco hasn't worn it in years. He slips it on out of morbid curiosity and is pleasantly surprised to find that it still fits him — especially around his arse. Morgana and Mordred both, his arse.

He loses track of time admiring himself in the mirror. And that's when Harry opens the bedroom door.

"Fuck," Draco says. His wand is out and trained on Harry's chest. (Hit-wizard reflexes; Draco's terrible at murder but surprisingly adept at keeping himself alive.) "I — um. I can explain."

"Merlin, you look hot in that," Harry says. He sounds like he's come back from running. "I've always wanted to see you wear it."

"What?"

"Your hit-wizard catsuit." Harry holds both hands up and steps toward Draco. "So fucking hot. I'm going to fuck you into a wall if you let me get any closer. Promise."

Did someone start up the fireplace? "I knew you stared a bit too hard at Halle Berry's arse the last time we watched Catwoman."

"Can you blame me for imagining what you'd look in it?"

"You don't look so bad yourself," Draco purrs. He can't help himself; Harry hasn't looked so fit in years. What is it about him today? Did he do something different with his hair? No...

Harry disarms Draco's wand hand and pushes him up against the wall. He's always been good at following through on his promises.

Draco's washing up in the shower when he realises what's different about Harry today. Harry's wearing an Auror uniform.

Draco bursts out of the shower still wet and dripping. He finds Harry in the living room with the telly on.

"You're going to ruin the carpet with all that water," Harry says, his nose scrunched. He's still got his crimson Auror robes blatantly bunched over the sofa.

"You're a fucking liar," Draco says. "Muggle tax accountant? I can't believe I bought that lie."

Harry remains painfully nonchalant. "We both had our secrets."

"But you knew mine." Merlin, for how long? Was their whole relationship a sham to —

Harry sighs and spells Draco dry. A bathrobe — plushy and cottony, Draco's favourite — flies in from the bedroom to wrap around Draco's shoulders.

Draco begrudgingly shrugs it on.

"Sit down," Harry says, patting the space next to him. Draco almost does as asked, but stops when he spots the smelly old sock peeking between the seat cushions.

"You're an Auror," Draco says. His lips sneer involuntarily at the betrayal.

"And you're the hit-wizard out to kill me. Yet we're both still here," Harry says. "Come on, Draco. Sit down."

Draco eyes the sock.

Harry's face purples. "Is this about the bloody sock? For the thousandth time, it's not me leaving them about. It's Morticia!"

Harry vanishes the sock. Suitably appeased, Draco walks over to their sofa and sits primly at the edge of it.

"I wasn't actually going to kill you," Draco says by way of an apology.

"I know that," Harry says. "You're an idiot. Hit-wizard, really? It's a wonder how I ever thought you were my nemesis."

"That is absolutely rude and uncalled for," Draco says. "I was plenty good at Quidditch."

Harry grins. "I'll give you that. Most distracting arse on the pitch... some things never change."

"You don't look so bad yourself in those robes," Draco says. He coughs. "I mean. We should... talk."

"Yes."

They've never been good at talking.

"So..." Harry says slowly. "What are you going to tell them when I'm still alive tomorrow?"

"Oh, I dunno. Can't you pretend you're dead? Please? For me."

"I'll be helping a lot of people if we pass this bill," Harry says apologetically.

Right. Saviour complex. Draco's painfully familiar with compromising around that character flaw. "Pansy's going to kill me," Draco sighs. "Well, unless we kill her first. But I'd rather not. She's my favourite person in the world — besides, you, of course."

"She's actually. Um." Harry coughs. "I think she's going to be fine."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... err."

"No," Draco gasps. "No, don't tell me she's been a mole this whole time."

"Err. Well..." Harry scratches the back of his head. "Did you know she's getting married to my cousin Dudley?"

"The awful Muggle bully?"

"He's um. He turned alright in the end? He's been working out in front of the telly. Bought these free weights and all... says it's really changed his outlook on life."

"Sweating in front of the telly changed his life?"

"Something like that," Harry says.

"That sounds disgusting."

"Yeah... I try not to think about it much either. So, err… takeaway? Greek, maybe? You loved the rotisserie chicken we had a few weeks ago. Before um, you started throwing it at me."

Shouldn't they be discussing something serious? Draco already forgets what. "Takeaway? But don't you —"

"Right," Harry laughs. "Now that everything else is out in the open, I suppose there's no harm in you knowing that I order takeaway and vanish away the boxes before you come home."

"I..."

"Draco? You aren't mad, are you?"

Mad, no. Surprised — absolutely. But Draco should've known that dating Harry Potter would never be boring.

Read on AO3

[booksforevermore13]

Lilies and Lilacs (with a side order of Coal)

Summary:

“You like plants, I like animals. It’s the whole bloody ecosystem here.”

“Damn right.”

Ginny’s unsure whether to buy lilac lilacs or purple lilacs. They look the same to her, but to Harry, she knows it will make a difference. After all, it’s their anniversary.

Read it on Fanfiction if you prefer!

...

‘Now that the season had warmed, growing in the bonniest of purple locks, came dancing lilac.’

Ginny read off the placard for the hundredth time that evening, unsure how lilac could dance, and confused as to why they were being called bonny.

The only thing even remotely making sense to her was the fact that they were purple. Or perhaps, it was lilac, much like its name, exactly like its name, yet, Ginny couldn’t recognize it.

To be fair, and to her credit, the lilies had been easy to find. They were white, and she’d seen them before, too many times to count. White lilies in early summer. That’s what he’d told her once. She’d loved it ever since.

As for her, ‘lilacs growing in early May’, was as good as it got. Ginny liked them the most. But she’d not bothered about the colour. She just liked how they looked.

But now that she was actually at Florean’s, colour seemed to be a defining factor in everything.

Oh, bother.

She’d just have to settle on the lilac lilacs. It all looked the same to her.

“I’ll take these too,” she decided, pointing at a dozen pale purple flowers, and then looking at Mr. Florean. He was a very patient man, something she was hugely glad of, for her zero-to-none knowledge in flowers was nothing to be proud of, especially when she was in love with a botanist.

“Anything else, Miss Weasley?”

“No, that’s it. Just the lilacs and the lilies.”

The man nodded, and Ginny stepped away as he reached over to bunch them together.

“Would you like to keep the leaves on?” he asked, and Ginny nodded promptly, wondering how either way could make a difference.

“The young ones or all of them together?”

Young ones? Young leaves? They were dead either way, how did it make any difference calling them young or old?

“Just, uhh….” she shrugged. “Whatever looks best.”

Mr. Florean nodded, looking less than displeased and Ginny looked away, unsure as to how she could, at least, appear a little less ignorant. True, she had had to study Botany in college, but the dissection of a xylem stem had been far easier than this.

When it looked like he was done, she stepped forward again, placing two ten-pound notes on the counter. Mr. Florean looked at them, then with one hand, he ripped off a piece of sellotape, stuck it over the cellophane, and with the other, kept the two notes in the drawer.

“Is it exactly twenty pounds?”

“Nineteen,” he answered, and handed her a few spare coins.

“Thanks.”

Then he gave her the bouquet, asking whether she’d like a bag or not, but Ginny didn’t spare one extra minute standing. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

The only reason she had been there in the first place was because it was their anniversary, and she had wanted to do something she hadn’t done before. Ginny had never given flowers to Harry before, and though it had seemed a bit too trivial at first, flowers were his forte. He loved them. And even though he didn’t necessarily study them, there always seemed to be a spare rose or a white daffodil in their apartment.

And though she didn’t bother about them much, she always liked it when he came back home with a flower in hand.

She had given him flowers on their first date, their first anniversary, and the first time they’d moved in together, she’d seen a vase of sunflowers in his apartment.

That’s why she liked lilacs. It was the first flower he’d ever given her. And it had been the first flower she had actually taken the time to look at.

They seemed special at the time. They still did.

“Harry,” she called, as she locked the door behind her.. “I’m home.”

Maybe he hadn’t arrived yet.

Ginny slipped out of her heels, setting her bag down on the floor. Bouquet in hand, she proceeded to find a vase in the house, something that wasn’t very hard to do, as she set the flowers on the kitchen table for a while. There was one in the kitchen, a tinted glass piece, and she was satisfied when she stepped back to see her work.

They looked pretty.

And it was the best she could do.

Flowers weren’t her forte. It was his.

Ginny smiled as she heard the door open, hurrying across the floor in her socks. Yellow wool and polka dots. She looked like a bloody bee in them.

That’s why she liked them so much.

“Harry?” she called, and she frowned as he heard a yelp and the door bang close.

“Harry?” Ginny went over to the door, turning the knob to open it, but it was pulled back shut on the opposite end.

“How are you home so early?” She heard his voice and frowned, pulling open the door again. She wasn’t able to.

“Harry,” she chastised. “Open the door.”

“No, hang on a sec.”

She looked at the door in confusion, turning the knob again, but it was again, quickly pulled back.

“What in the world are you doing?”

She heard rummaging on the other side, his footsteps. She tried to turn the knob again, and then stopped as she heard a light patterning of steps. Then she heard a bark, and a shhh, and she stilled, her eyes wide with shock.

This time, when she opened the door, Harry didn’t pull back.

“Oh my god,” she gushed. “Oh my god, bloody freaking hell Harry –“

Harry grinned back, and Ginny couldn’t take her eyes off the small bundle in his arms. He was holding a tiny white Golden Retriever, and while both of them were looking at her, she couldn’t take her damn eyes off the pup.

“He’s adorable!” she whisper-screamed, laughing, and stroking his fur, just on the brink of squealing like a little girl.

Harry laughed, handing her the small pup, and Ginny giggled as she cradled the little bundle. The pups put his tiny little paws just under her face, looking up at her with big black eyes, and Ginny felt like a bloody five-year old, beaming at Harry as the pup snuggled in close to her body.

“My god, Harry, he’s beautiful.”

“I know.”

Ginny smiled up at him as he wrapped his hand around her waist, pulling both her and the pup closer to him. The pup was barking now, licking her elbow as he struggled to get free.

Harry laughed, and Ginny bent down, putting him on the ground.

“What’s his name?” she asked, as he sped off across the living room, sniffing around the sofa, the book-shelf, tentatively stepping on the mattress.

“Figured you should be the one to name him,” Harry shrugged, as if he’d not just given ehr the best gift ever, and Ginny, in a burst of emotions, threw her arms around him, pulling him down in a kiss. He responded just as enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the floor.

They laughed as they broke apart, several sunlit moments later – or it just might have been the sound of frantic yapping that brought them back to their living room. Either way, she smiled at him, and they both bent down together, as the pup ran over to them.

“He looks like a,” Harry hesitated, “an Oscar?”

Ginny clicked her tongue, as she scooped him up in her lap. “How about Snow?”

“That’s too common.”

“Waffles.”

“Sounds like food.”

“It is food.”

“No, it’s breakfast.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Harry laughed, and the pup plopped down on its back as Harry gently stroked his face. After a while, Ginny spoke up again.

“We can’t exactly call him pup now, can we?” she said indignantly. Then, as if she’d just found out something groundbreaking, she hurriedly got up, nearly slipping in her socks.

“Where’re you going?”

“My phone. This, we need Google for.”

“No, don’t go,” Harry protested, pulling her down again. She fell on his lap, and the pup jumped up on, yapping in a most adorable fashion, and they burst out laughing, falling to the ground together, Harry’s arms around her waist.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, kissing his cheek fondly. The pup jumped in between them, and Harry smiled as he licked Ginny’s eyes, her face.

“How about Storm?” he suggested.

“No.” Ginny looked at Harry. “Coal. He looks like a Coal.”

Harry smiled, and lifted the pup onto his stomach. He smiled as the pup barked, and stroked him on the cheek.

“Hey Coal.”

Coal barked back.

…

“You bought flowers?” Harry asked incredulously and Ginny stuck out her tongue at him, preparing the powder Harry had bought for coal. Milk powder, and she’d made it a thousand times before, for every other dog that came into her clinic.

“You never buy flowers.”

“I know it isn’t quite impressive, compared to – “

“They’re beautiful,” Harry interrupted. “They really are.” He smiled, and she was glad he thought so because really, that’s all she had been going for. “I love them. I love you.”

Ginny smiled, leaning forward as Harry kissed her, cupping her cheek as he lost his hands in her hair. Then, as if she’d just remembered something, she pulled back, pointing at the lilac lilacs, or whatever the hell they were.

“You do not know how long Florean kept me waiting for that. Seven different colours he showed me, and they all looked exactly the same.”

“You did not!” Harry said, in mock horror and Ginny chuckled. “God, Gin, that is inexcusable.”

“What is?”

“You know what! I’ve literally told you, Gin, like a dozen times before.” Harry smirked, before continuing, “all lilacs have a chromium pigment in their petals – “

“Okay, okay,” she raised her hands in mock surrender and Harry shook his head in exasperation, but he was smiling. “Don’t need a botany class here, I already had enough of those.”

She kissed him again, leaning away before he could bring her closer. He raised an eyebrow, shooting her a mirthful glance and Ginny smirked.

“You like plants, I like animals. It’s the whole bloody ecosystem here.”

“Damn right.”

…

“Shh.”

Coal stirred, whining in his sleep as Ginny turned up the volume on her laptop.

After she’d fed the little guy, he’d very promptly decided to sleep on her for the rest of the night. Ginny’d had no objections with that whatsoever, but halfway through the movie, her back had started to hurt. Just a little.

Harry’d stepped in then.

“I think you’re a better bed than me,” she whispered, and he smiled, looking at her as if he knew something she didn’t.

“Naturally,” he shot back, and laughed as Ginny shoved him lightly on his ribs.

She pushed herself up, leaning against Harry, as she watched Coal’s gentle breathing. “What do you want for dinner?” she asked absentmindedly, running a finger along Coal’s soft, white coat.

“You’re cooking?” Harry asked, and Ginny looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You think? I don’t want our anniversary to end with me poisoning you.”

“I didn’t say that,” he protested weakly. “I just, you just…uh, you make very nice bananas,” he offered, and Ginny shook her head as she paused the movie.

“Where you going?” Harry asked, as Ginny threw the blanket off her legs.

“To make you a banana.”

“Hey, hey.” He smiled, as he pulled her back closer to him. Ginny smiled as he nuzzled his face into her neck, letting her head fall back on his shoulder. Being a vet hadn’t been very forgiving on her back, and long, strenuous hours of surgery where she had no idea whether the animal would recover or not, hadn’t helped. She closed her eyes, sighing in relief, but she knew his eyes hadn’t left her.

“You’re staring.”

“I know.”

“I think,” she snapped open her eyes, and raised her hand, brushing away his hair from his forehead. “We should just order pizza and stay like this all night.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“And binge watch Fast and Furious in one go.”

“Until you fall asleep,” Harry mumbled, and Ginny looked up at him, eyes narrowed.

“Lighten up, will you?” she whispered, and Harry laughed, his green eyes sparkling under his glasses. Somehow, Coal had managed to right himself with one paw over Harry’s glasses, and said Harry hadn’t bothered to remove it. They looked adorable together, and Ginny took in the sight in front of her for a second, before looking around the bed for her phone.

“I’m keeping this for later,” she whispered as she snapped a picture.

Then she kissed him, soft butterfly kisses that slowly deepened as her hands tangled in his hair, his on her waist, keeping them (and Coal) steady together. Ginny gently took off his glasses, keeping them beside her on the bedside table.

“You know why I like flowers so much?” Harry said between kisses and Ginny smiled against his lips, waiting for an answer.

“It’s because they remind me of you,” he finished.

Ginny pulled away, looking into his eyes, green like the southern sea. Brown to green. She cupped his face, brushing his hair away with her thumb and smiled, not quite sure how she’d respond to that. All she was thinking right now, all she could think right now was how much she loved this man. This adorably dorky man, who she loved with all her heart.

So she told him. Exactly what she was feeling.

Even though he knew every time.

“I love you,” she said, as she kissed him.

“I love you,” he replied. “In every way possible.”

They looked at each other, and Ginny smiled, laughed. With him, she felt like she was feeling everything. And it felt so damn good.

She lifted herself up, and as she brought him closer to kiss him again, she laughed as Coal whined in his sleep, his paws scrabbling against Harry’s shirt.

“I think Coal’s jealous.”

Harry laughed, adjusting his small body over his stomach, and looking back at her again, his eyes gleaming with affection.

“I would be too.”

..

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

13 Keys to the White House

Since 1984, historian Allan Lichtman has successfully predicted the outcome of every single presidential election (with 2000 being the only hiccup). His methodology takes into account 13 true or false statements to judge the performance of the incumbent party as a whole, and retroactively accounts for every single presidential election since the current two-party system was established in 1860. When 8 or more of the statements are true, the incumbent party is predicted to win re-election, but if 6 or more are false then the challenging party is predicted to win. He was one of he few pundits who called it for Donald Trump in the summer of 2016, back when everybody assumed it was Hillary Clinton's election to lose.

For 2020, the keys fell like so:

Midterm gains: the incumbent party has more seats in the House following the midterms. FALSE

No primary contest: there's a clear frontrunner for the incumbent party nomination (>66% of delegates are the convention). TRUE

Incumbent seeking re-election: the incumbent nominee is the sitting president. TRUE

No third party: there is no significant (>5%) third party candidate. TRUE

Strong short-term economy: the economy is not in recession. FALSE

Strong long-term economy: real per capita growth for this term is greater than or equal to the average growth of the previous two terms. FALSE

Major policy change: the incumbent administration pushes through major (and unique) change to national policy. TRUE

No social unrest: there is no widespread and sustained social unrest during the term. FALSE

No scandal: the incumbent administration is untainted by major scandal. FALSE

No foreign/military failure: the incumbent administration suffers no significant foreign/military failure. TRUE

Foreign/military success: the incumbent administration achieves a significant foreign/military success. FALSE

Charismatic incumbent: the incumbent candidate is charismatic or a national hero. FALSE

Uncharismatic challenger: the challenging candidate is not charismatic or a national hero. TRUE

6 true, 7 false, the incumbent party was predicted to lose: Joe Biden defeated Donald Trump and received more votes than any candidate in American history

But that doesn't mean Joe Biden is doing a good job as president. Looking forward to 2024, some of the keys are too close to call, but we can make assumptions for the rest that paint a daunting picture for the Democratic establishment moving forward.

Midterm gains: FALSE, The Democrats are going to lose the House, quite possibly by a wide margin due to partisan gerrymandering by Republican controlled state legislatures.

No primary contest: tentatively true, no major Democrats have come out to challenge Biden for the nomination, and it's likely none will

Incumbent seeking re-election: tentatively true, Joe Biden plans on running for re-election even though he'll be 82 at the time. If common sense prevails and he bows out, it'll almost certainly go to Kamala Harris, which would tip this false and threaten to tip number 2 as the race would technically be open to anyone (though the establishment would tank any campaigns they didn't approve of, as they did to Bernie in 2016 and 2020)

No third party: too soon to tell, over the last century it has happened about every 2 or 3 election cycles, most recently in 2016, so there's no telling what 2024 could be like

Strong short-term economy: too soon to tell, nobody could have predicted the COVID recession in 2019, so there's no way of knowing what horrors await us in 2024.

Strong long-term economy: tentatively true, Obama's second term was steady, Trump's term was abysmal, so they average out to zero net gain (actually, scratch that, it would be a net loss; Trump's put us deeper in the red than Obama put us in the green). The bar is so low, Biden would have to fail spectacularly to make things worse. I have little respect for the man, but I would hope he has more sense than George W. Bush and Donald Trump; since WWII, Democrats have consistently performed better than Republicans.

Major policy change: almost certainly FALSE, the Democrats' control over congress is eroding, they're barely getting anything done right now, and once the Republicans take back control they'll accomplish even less! Biden has achieved none of his campaign promises; no Supreme Court reform, no voting reform, no statehood for DC and Puerto Rico, no police reform, no immigration reform, JACK SHIT! This is a Democratic filler term in a long line of Democratic filler terms punctuated by Republican downward trends. The country is in shambles because Republicans fuck it up and Democrats stay the course.

No scandal: too soon to tell, though I'd say probably true because the pressure is so high. We've never had this much political engagement, gone are the days of the background presidency, all eyes are on the Oval Office. Trump made sure that all future president will be under constant scrutiny. Again, Democrats are consistently less corrupt than Republicans, though that doesn't mean they don't do anything wrong, just that they're better at hiding it and making the public think it's okay.

No social unrest: too soon to tell, though probably true because this key is very hard to flip. The George Floyd protests were once in a generation; Rodney King in 92 was too regional, only effecting Los Angeles, so this key hadn't truly flipped since 1968.

No foreign/military failure: too soon to tell, though looking false. As soon as we're out of Afghanistan, the Taliban will retake control and the last 20 years will have been a complete waste of time. This is our generations Vietnam, and it's going to fall any day now.

Foreign/military success: too soon to tell, depends on whether or not the media frames the withdrawal from Afghanistan as a success. I don't see Biden accomplishing much else overseas; Korea is a nonstarter, and China is kicking our asses economically (if they invade Taiwan, which they probably won't do, Biden wouldn't send troops to push them back out of fear of starting WWIII, so that would decidedly flip number 10 false)

Charismatic incumbent: FALSE, Biden is milquetoast, white bread, plain vanilla, BORING, and Kamala Harris is one of the least popular VPs since the 1970s, so neither are particularly thrilling candidates. He's an old and moderate, she's young and moderate, they both pretend to be progressive, nobody really likes them, they were just the lesser of two evils compared to Trump/Pence.

Uncharismatic challenger: TRUE, whether it's Trump again or Florida governor Ron DeSantis, neither are popular outside the Republican Party. None of the small fish Republicans make the cut either, so Biden/Harris can rest easy knowing they're not substantially less popular than the competition (major achievement?)

So that's 4 true, 2 on the fence true, 3 tossups, 1 on the fence false, and 3 false.

Democrats need 8 true to win, Republicans need 6 false to win, so the tossups will decide everything. I wouldn't be surprised if we saw a repeat of 2000/2016 where the Democrats win the popular vote, but the Republicans win the electoral college. That's their new MO; they realize they don't need a majority to win, they just need to game the system, which is easy when they can strip voting rights in swing states. I would hope there'd be anarchy in then streets if this happened AGAIN, the third time in 25 years, only the sixth time in 250. But there won't be. Democrats won't riot or storm the capital or send pipe bombs to Republicans; they'll bitch and moan about it and do nothing to stop it and shift further to the right to try and appease the authoritarian party that wants them dead anyway.

Same shit as always.

We need better leaders.

[lins-fandom-hub]

HPHM Profile: Em Wen-Hui Lin

Template by @hogwartsmystory​

Profile subject to change.

IDENTITY

Name: Emily “Em” Wen-Hui Lin

Gender: Female

Age: 12 as of May 31, 1990

Birth Date: February 19, 1978

Species: Human

Blood Status: Half-blood (both parents are Muggle-born attending wizarding institutions)

Sexuality: Undetermined

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Ethnicity: Chinese

Nationality: Um...British, I think?

Residence: Oxford, England

Myer Briggs Personality Type: ISFP

THE MAGE

Wand: Rowan and Phoenix feather, 11 inches, quite flexible

Animagus: N/A. Of the three siblings, only Clara has become an Animagus.

Misc Magical Abilities: Like her siblings, Em is a Legilimens--although she did not recognize the power until late in her 6th year.

Boggart Form: Her inner demons are her downfall. Her Riddikulus form makes the entire room dark, leaving her in the spotlight, standing in front of the glowing column of a Cursed Vault, while shadows of her past begin to echo her worst thoughts. Most of them pertained Jacob’s permanent disappearance, or her older sister abandoning her for good. She just cannot stand the thought of standing there, helpless while her family suffered.

Riddikulus Form: Her Riddikulus form is of the demons popping like soap bubbles all around her, the voices warbled with every bubble that rose. The prevailing darkness will fade as well. The Cursed Vault will become a giant teddy bear. 

Amortentia: (What do they smell like?) Freshly ground mint, cinnamon, freshly baked fudge, and tomato juice.

Amortentia: (What do they smell?) She smells fresh linens, nutmeg, smoke from a fire, and...wait, is that honey lemon tea?

Patronus: If she can produce a Patronus, it would be of a black swan. A little strange when compared to Jacob’s falcon and Clara’s unicorn, but her grace and poise is not to be underestimated.

Patronus Memory: the day the tension from the Cursed Vaults finally subsided and she saw the light return to her siblings’ eyes.

Mirror of Erised: She sees herself with her older siblings, both of them genuinely smiling in happiness. Her family has completely reconciled, and she feels at peace.

Specialized/Favourite Spells: Before Em goes to Hogwarts, she knew already of the Herbivicus Charm, which her father taught her to speed up the growth of flowers. This was very useful for her whenever people requested her to make flower crowns at the arts and crafts club she heads along with her friend Dawn. Em can cast a really good Expelliarmus as well--a powerful one that could send the wand flying far away from the owner. In later years, one should watch out for her Tarantallegra and Obscuro. Unbeknownst to several of her classmates, she could also perform a good shield charm thanks to training with her siblings in her first year.

APPEARANCE

Faceclaim: TBD

Voiceclaim: TBD

Game Appearance: (may subject to change every once in a while)

Height: 4’10 at 11, but grows a bit before reaching adulthood

Weight: She is on the slightly light side, lighter than average.

Physique: Relatively frail, but her glare can make up for her strength and power behind her spells.

Eye Colour: Dark brown

Hair Colour: Black

Skin Tone: Pale

Body Modifications: N/A

Scarring: N/A

Inventory: Em carries two silk bookmarks, a beaded bracelet, her wand, a few flower clips, several quills and bottles of ink, and some parchment.

Fashion: Most of the time in school, Em wears her school robes. Yes, even when she’s not in class, she wears her school robes. She would always have a flower in her hair.

ALLEGIANCES 

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Ilvermorny House: Pukwudgie/Wampus?

Affiliations/Organizations: Hufflepuff House (Hogwarts); Circle of Khanna (Hogwarts); Order of the Phoenix (1996-); St. Mungo’s Hospital

Professions: Healer at St. Mungo’s

HOGWARTS INFORMATION

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: A

Charms: E

DADA: O

Flying: A

Herbology: O

History of Magic: A

Potions: E

Transfiguration: E

Electives: Care of Magical Creatures (E), Ancient Runes (A), Muggle Studies (E)

Quidditch: Em does not join the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, but she is a great supporter of the team in the spectator stands.

Extra Curricular: Arts and Crafts Club (leader), Duelling Club

Favourite Professors: Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall

Least Favourite Professors: Professor Binns

RELATIONSHIPS

Brother: Jacob Pan-Hui Lin

Although she and Jacob never really were that close, she still admires him for what he does and never held a grudge against him for his mistakes. She longs for them to reunite when she learned he went missing, and always wanted to know him and get along with him.

Older sister: Clara Xing-Hui Lin

Em didn’t really get a chance to connect with Clara until the summer before her first year at Hogwarts. Still, she was firm on helping Clara through her trying times and helped her in any way she could to break the final curse and stop R once and for all.

Father: Sueh-Yen Lin

Mother: Renee Lin (nee Tao)

Love Interest: currently N/A

Best Friends: Dawn Everett, Hillary Redstone, 

Rival: Travis Poulter, Eunice Ahn

Enemy: R, Voldemort and Death Eaters

Dormmates: Dawn Everett, three other Hufflepuff girls

Pets: Cheddar (rat), some others TBD

Closest Canon Friends: Penny Haywood, Chiara Lobosca, Nymphadora Tonks, Diego Caplan, Andre Egwu, Charlie Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Cedric Diggory, Badeea Ali, Barnaby Lee, Liz Tuttle, Tulip Karasu

Closest MC/OC Friends: 

Sarahi Silvers (@dat-silvers-girl )

Nora Magnus (@dat-silvers-girl )

BACKGROUND/HISTORY

Pre Hogwarts: 

Em was around 5 or 6 when Jacob disappeared. Since then, all she had known was broken bonds and tears.

Her sister drifted away from her as well in her first 5 years at Hogwarts. She had to learn in this time to stand alone in the worst of the storm. 

1st Year: 

Em was Sorted into Hufflepuff on the first day at school

The statue curse prevailed during little Em’s first year at Hogwarts

Following the Halloween Feast, Em created the Arts and Crafts club at her friend Dawn’s suggestion--where members create many wonderful things out of everyday items

She and Clara take up Bill’s offer to go to the Burrow for Christmas.

After Rowan Khanna’s death, Em was roped into the Circle of Khanna by Diego Caplan who insisted the group needed her duelling skills

While Clara was preparing the Polyjuice Potion to infiltrate R, Em got to see all the Vaults firsthand that have been broken

Prior to Clara’s trip to the Black Lake with Ben, Merula, and Jacob, Em comes around and gives Clara a flower crown to present to the merqueen

After the curse was lifted, just as Clara threw a party at the Three Broomsticks, Em threw a party in the courtyard with the people who were unable to go to Hogsmeade

2nd Year: 

Em returns to Hogwarts for her second year prepared to help her siblings take down the rest of R

3rd Year: 

Em returns to Hogwarts without her siblings for the first time. However, it was then when she met the Boy Who Lived--Harry Potter.

The year passed pretty normally for her

4th Year: 

When the Chamber of Secrets was opened, little Em was one of the first to ensure that all the younger Hufflepuff students remained calm in this time

She already knew firsthand that Gilderoy Lockhart was suspicious, and so she wrote her mother when he was outed (and his memory was permanently wiped)

5th Year: 

Em becomes a Hufflepuff Prefect for her fifth year along with Cedric Diggory

The year that Sirius Black escaped has been a tough one for her. Imagine Percy constantly on high alert, especially since he’s Head Boy--she’s adapted his high alertness once more, fearing for the entire student body once more

Despite all this, little Em came out successful in her OWLs, obtaining an impressive eight OWLs while only failing History of Magic (she dropped Muggle Studies after her 4th year)

6th Year: 

Enter: The Goblet of Fire, and the Triwizard Tournament!

Em was too young to participate, so she ended up sitting by the sidelines cheering both her friend Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter on

She did not develop a crush on any of the boys in her year (mostly because she can’t be bothered right now with romance, maybe), but she did go to the ball with another Ravenclaw boy in her year

The loss of Cedric Diggory at the end of her 6th year had put her in another mute grief. First, she sat through Rowan Khanna’s memorial--she didn’t expect to sit through another one five years later, and one for one of her closest friends too.

7th Year:

Prior to starting her 7th year, her older sister Clara left for China

Em becomes one of the Head Girls in her 7th year, but the arrival of Dolores Umbridge and the way she instilled all these regulations made her secretly pissed off

She wholeheartedly supported Fred and George in testing their joke products so that they could make a profit out of their talents

When they left Hogwarts on their broomsticks after a while, she too was one of the few who wished she could leave the school but could not

Order of the Phoenix / 2nd Wizarding War:

Em was roped into the Order of the Phoenix along with her brother, Jacob, by none other than Professor Dumbledore immediately following graduation

While her sister was in China holding back the Japanese forces, the times they had to talk were far and few in between--however, they were able to talk when they could, and Em relayed everything that happened to her through encrypted letters sent to her grandmother

Em was the one who alerted Clara of the upcoming Battle of Hogwarts--while the siege went underway, she stuck close to Diego

Em survives the battle--she mourned for Fred and the many lives that were lost

Post-War:

Em ends up becoming a Healer at St Mungo’s, helping those who have undergone traumatic experiences during Voldemort’s rise

Future relationship TBD.

PERSONALITY

Though she comes off as a shy soul, little Em is not completely fragile. Behind her kind eyes laid years of suffering from her family’s arguments and broken bonds--yet she pushes forward, and her persistence does not go unnoticed

Em is always willing to offer a helping hand, even though she’s the one who needs it most.

She cares deeply for those who she ends up befriending and trusting. This also includes most of Clara’s friends at Hogwarts.

Though soft-spoken and easy to knock over, her spells could pack a serious punch.

MISC

Em’s love of Herbology came from her father, whom she loved helping in the family gardens long before Jacob’s disappearance.

She doesn’t play many instruments like her sister, but she has a decent singing voice good enough to join the Frog Choir. However, the thought of that made Em shake her head--she really only sings for fun, after all.

Em’s love for crafts came from the time Jacob gifted her a Hippogriff ornament at her first Christmas that he made himself.

[tamagirrl]

I posted 11,591 times in 2021

1082 posts created (9%)

10509 posts reblogged (91%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 9.7 posts.

I added 986 tags in 2021

#mine - 324 posts

#911 fox - 190 posts

#911 lone star - 170 posts

#politics - 105 posts

#black lives matter - 43 posts

#joe biden - 38 posts

#harry styles - 35 posts

#donald trump - 28 posts

#wandavision - 27 posts

#911 ls - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#she went on some weird ass tangent about how michelle obama isn't spreading kindness bc she said she wants twitter to delete trumps account

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

if you're a fan and you're bullying actors over a television show's storyline, you're not a fan. full stop. fuck off.

373 notes • Posted 2021-05-22 19:17:27 GMT

#4

there's a black lives matter protest happening outside the met gala right now, and I gotta say it's on brand for the theme

423 notes • Posted 2021-09-14 02:19:22 GMT

#3

bo put more effort into his white woman's instagram bit than I put into college.

540 notes • Posted 2021-05-31 00:18:55 GMT

#2

Trump supporters cannot condemn the storming of the Capitol alone without bringing up BLM, which to me, implies that they think it’s fair that Trump supporters stormed our nation’s Capitol because BLM destroyed a Target. It doesn’t even compare, and shows that they don’t care about protesting unless a black person or a person of color does it, then it’s “too violent” or “taking it too far” (when all they’ve done is walk the streets). It’s really bizarre mental gymnastics that these Trump supporters are doing. As if to say that it’s unfair that Trump supporters are receiving backlash from political leaders for storming the Capitol building because “nothing happened to BLM when they destroyed businesses”? When it’s been shown countless times over and over that they’ve been shot at and tear-gassed and kidnapped by police, that political leaders all over the country were tearing BLM apart for protesting - which BLM were in the right do - against police brutality? They’re saying, “Well Dems didn’t condemn what happened over the summer, why are they condemning this?” as to say THEY SHOULDN’T CONDEMN THIS? The insurrection of our nation’s Capitol, endorsed by our own goddamn President, who sat back and GLEEFULLY watched the whole thing before being BANNED from social media for encouraging his supporters? 

725 notes • Posted 2021-01-08 22:04:23 GMT

#1

1839 notes • Posted 2021-11-02 05:36:56 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Revelation Part 2

Harry Potter Marauders Era- Post Hogwarts 

Link to Part 1 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M 

Credit: Song in chapter: I forget where we were Ben Howard and a clip taken from the TV show Rescue Me (it was so fitting)

_________

You stormed back into the house muttering about how much you wanted to kick Regulus in the shins.

“Did daddy already piss you off?”

Sirius said with a smirk as he looked up from his place at the kitchen table. He clearly could see that you were in a less than happy state but he needed answers. The scowl on your face told Sirius that he was lucky to not be killed.

“You know if I didn’t adore you so fucking much I would bitch slap the hell out of you and yes he made me mad.”

You said before sitting down across from Sirius. He smiled innocently before making a drink appear in front of you.

“Is there booze in this?”

You questioned. Sirius nodded.

“It appears that is what you need.”

You laughed bitterly. Hell yes, you needed booze and Sirius needed to make sure that the drinks kept coming. If you got drunk, that would be just fine. Harry wouldn't be waking up anytime soon and if he did, Sirius could tend to him.

“You have no idea.”

You muttered. Sirius was quiet for a moment before finally deciding to speak again.

“Y/n, I normally don’t pry into your life mostly because we know everything about each other but I am feeling a bit left out and confused at the moment.”

You took a drink, knowing that it was time to tell Sirius the truth. All of your dirty and most passionate secrets were about to come spilling out to your best friend.

“We dated for three years.”

You replied. Sirius was clearly surprised. How did he and James not pick up on this? Were they that distracted that they didn’t notice you with Regulus? The better question was what did you really have in common with his little brother (other than an impeccable gift of sarcasm)?

“Wow...so was it some weird sex thing or an actual relationship?”

“It was an actual relationship combined with mind-blowing sex that would make Satan himself blush. Do you remember my friend Samantha?”

Sirius internally gagged at the word “mind-blowing sex.” To him, you were the funny girl that tagged around with the Marauders. Sure, Sirius was aware that you had lost your virginity but he wasn’t for sure to whom it was...now he knew.

“Yeah the girl from Ravenclaw, you used to study with her a lot.”

You shook your head.

“Samantha was actually your brother and I can tell you that there was no studying going on. Most of the time when I came back to the common room I was wondering if I had remembered my underwear.”

You had to stifle a look at the expression on Sirius’ face. He was quiet for a few moments longer before speaking again.

“So both of you are into some freaky shit, huh?”

Taking a sip of your drink, you only batted your eyes at Sirius.

“It depends on how you define the word freaky.”

You said replied with a sly smile. Had this conversation been with James there probably would have been a lot of yelling and screaming. With Sirius, it was a pleasant yet uncomfortable experience that both of you should look back on and laugh.

“Well, you call my brother daddy. That is some information that I could have totally gone without knowing. Now I can’t look at my little brother the same way. I'm going to call him daddy now just to witness his reaction.”

Sirius was relieved when you smiled.

“And that doesn’t surprise me. Let me make sure to find a camera because that will be an uncomfortable experience for both Regulus and myself.”

Sirius grinned.

“It was a very uncomfortable experience for me to hear earlier. Well...more like the rug being pulled out from underneath me. So, all jokes aside, what happened between the two of you?”

Your face darkened. This wasn’t a memory that you ever wanted to think about...the break up a week after graduation. It was like having the rug pulled out from under you. You still felt that way when you thought about it. Something had you convinced that Regulus was the one for you and maybe you still felt that way.

While you were in America, you had tried dating others but it never worked out. You always compared them to Regulus. They were always annoying you, talking too much, and didn't know how to touch you. Unbeknownst to you, you were the lucky one. You hadn’t been bitten during a moment of what was supposed to be exciting.

“Regulus decided that he didn’t want to disappoint your parents. They would never accept me because I am a blood traitor so bye bye Y/n.”

Sirius frowned.

“Is that why you took off to the states?”

You nodded.

“That would be the reason.”

Sirius’ was quiet again. He was trying to think of some “big brother-like” bit of advice that he could give you that might be helpful but he couldn’t think of anything. Everything that he had to offer sounded a bit condescending or downright cold…

Positive one, Walburga Black won’t be your mother-in-law Positive two, we don’t have to worry about James rolling over in his grave. Positive three,...

Sirius was sure that there were positive number three and if you gave him time he could come up with more.

“Why are you sitting here in my brother’s coat if you are so mad at him?”

You realized that you were still, in fact, still wrapped in Regulus’ coat. In your subconscious, you were enjoying having Regulus’ comforting scent around you.

“We were outside talking and he put it around my shoulders before pissing me off. I told him that he wasn’t getting his coat back and he isn’t. I’m a petty bitch and am going to keep this coat like that gold-hoarding dragon from The Hobbit.”

Sirius chuckled. He again realized how much that he had missed you over the past year.

“Alright Smaug junior, go take your gold and hide upstairs because I hear the front door opening.”

You jumped up and ran up the stairs as Regulus stepped in. Sirius took a sip of his tea before meeting his brother’s face. Regulus’ cheeks were pink from the chill of the evening.

“Is that hot?”

Sirius nodded.

“Just pour it on me.”

Sirius smirked as Regulus grabbed the blanket that was on the back of the couch and curled up in it.

“You know, a lesser man would have come back in for his coat. How are you doing, daddy?”

Regulus glared at Sirius before going to pour himself a cup of tea. It took all that Sirius had not to burst out laughing at the sneer on his brother’s face. Regulus looked like Sirius had force-fed him a lemon.

Y/n just missed a fine moment.

“Never call me that again! Maybe I don’t want to get punched in the face. Y/n is mad and I’m an idiot.”

Sirius shrugged.

“You said it.”

Regulus groaned sitting down. He wanted to apologize to you but he knew at the moment he would be better attempting to baptize a feral cat.

“I was trying to do her a favor.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t do Y/n any favors and let her make her own choices or possibly use the balls between your legs to tell mum and dad to fuck off?”

Regulus’ lip twitched at this brother’s comment. It was so easy for Sirius to talk about telling Walburga and Orion to fuck off. He wasn't the one that had to be “the good son.” That was all on Regulus’ shoulders. Sure, now his efforts were shot to hell but Regulus was doing the right thing...the noble thing.

“Have you forgotten what is on my left arm? Y/n is an auror and she is going to be working for Moody soon. What a fucking joke we both would be. A death eater dating an auror...and the other way around. I did her a favor.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you aren’t a death eater anymore. You are just acting like you missed your little nap.”

Regulus crossed his arms, reminding Sirius of the little boy that would turn Grimmauld Place into a literal nightmare on Elm Street when he didn’t have a nap during the day.

“She said...well screamed at my face...that she should have dated you because you would have been so much better to her.”

Sirius winced.

“Ouch. To be fair, she and I would kill each other. I would be better off dating you...with our family history no one would bat an eye.”

Regulus didn’t want to think about his family's pureblood history at the moment. He had enough on his plate.

“If you were dating me, I would kill you. Now I get to sit back and watch the two of you play house with James’ kid. Just a thought but you two may want to save some money for the therapy that child is going to need.”

Sirius stood up and shook his head.

“Nah, the little tyke is going to be just fine.”

Regulus wanted to make a snarky comment but decided not to.

“Where did Y/n go anyway?”

Sirius pointed to the stairs.

“Upstairs with your coat that is no longer yours. I would suggest leaving her alone unless you want to lose an eye. If you do bother her and lose an eye, I will forever compare you to a pirate.”

Regulus stood up and moved to leave the room.

“Yeah, well, fuck you.”

Walking upstairs, Regulus poked his head hesitantly into what was your room. When nothing was thrown at him, Regulus figured out that the room was empty. He had no idea what he was going to say to apologize to you. If you didn’t want to hear what he was going to say, you would let whatever words that he has to offer go in one ear and out the other. It wasn’t like things were before. He couldn’t just grab you and have his way with you anymore. Things were different and Regulus wasn’t sure if they would ever be the same.

Regulus stopped outside of Harry’s nursery at the sound of your soft voice singing. Looking into the room, but not making his presence known, Regulus watched as you cradled Harry. He stepped back outside the door with his back against the wall. Had Regulus forgotten how peaceful it sounded to hear your voice? When you weren’t being sassy (and things weren’t tense) you were the most calming person that Regulus had in his life.

Don't take it so seriously, no. Only time is ours . The rest we'll just wait and see. Maybe you're right, babe, maybe. Oh no, and that's how summer passed. Oh your, great divide and range of green green grass. Oh, maybe I hold on fast, to you . Hello love, my invincible friend. Hello love, the thistle and the burr. Hello love, for you I have so many words but I, I forget where we were

Stepping away from the room, Regulus knew it was best that he walked away for now.

Regulus didn’t see you the next morning either. You were gone before he woke up. It was Remus that told him “gently” that you had decided to go back to work as an auror. Regulus hated the thought of that altogether. You had no reason to go to work With the Potter family fortune, you could live comfortably and raise Harry. It wouldn’t be your style though. You were probably doing this just to spite him.

Your choice of being an auror was the topic of the first fight that the two of you had as a couple. It was funny, especially now, for Regulus to think that the first fight happened weeks before the breakup. Now he should have seen it was the beginning of the end.

“You’re what?!”

Regulus snapped. The two of you had met at the top of the astronomy tower. Graduation was a few weeks and you decided to drop the bomb of your career to be.

“You heard me. It's what I want to do, Reggie.”

“You do realize what I am right? I don’t think that it will be looked upon very highly for you to have a boyfriend that is a death eater.”

You smirked.

“No one technically knows anything right now as it is so…

Regulus pulled himself out of his memory when you stepped into the kitchen with Marlene McKinnon on your heels. Sirius quickly leaned over and playful elbowed Regulus in the side with a smile that said, there is your woman.

“I’m an idiot. I never should have broken up with him, Y/n. I’m just a mess.”

Regulus watched as your eyes fluttered in his direction before looking away...as if he were not even in existence.

“Marlene, there is hope. It comes with batteries. Trust me, no man is worth that much aggravation. I understand why Dorcas loves women. Let me tell youI am a big supporter of the lesbian community. I wish that I was a lesbian.”

Sirius, Regulus, and Remus both looked up at that. It took all that you had not to laugh at the expression on the face of every man in the room.

“What?”

Remus questioned. You put your bag down before turning to face Remus and a very amused Sirius.

“Like gay guys, they really have it made. So think about it, you’re a guy and your with a guy who has the same interest as you that's like a win-win situation. First of all, you both like to have a lot of sex and if you’re both interested in sports you can go to hockey games, football games, quidditch matches. It's all blowjobs and ball games.”

Sirius immediately started laughing so hard that he almost fell out of his chair. This was going to be one of those Y/n conversations that he had missed so much over the past year.

“Blow jobs and ball games?”

Remus questioned, stifling a laugh, before turning to Sirius wondering if his lover was going to make it through this conversation. You, meanwhile, smirked over the top of the drink that Marlene handed you.

“Sweetie, no matter the sexual orientation every relationship goes great until the both of you start having secret evil plans to piss each other off. This doesn’t apply to Sirius and Remus because you two are the perfect relationship having freaks.”

Sirius grinned.

“You think so??”

You groaned.

“Buzzkill, Marlene. So what you are saying is even if you and I were doing each other, we would be doomed?”

Marlene nodded before deciding to use your comment.

“There is hope. It comes with batteries.”

You were watching Regulus out of the corner of your eye. He was only blinking with a small amused smirk on his face. Clearly, he had no idea that this was the conversation that everyone in this room had on a regular basis.

“I’m going to take a nap.”

Sirius stood up to take his empty cup to the sink.

“Remus and I are taking Harry clothes shopping. Do you have any requests on what not to buy?”

You shook your head.

“I think that you two will be just fine. Marlene, what are you doing tonight?”

Marlene was gathering up her sweater and handbag.

“Going to find a new boyfriend that runs on batteries.”

You gave her a thumbs up before turning and walking out of the room.

(1 hour later…)

You lay awake staring at the ceiling. From the time that you had laid down, your mind was on Regulus. Being back in the same house was quickly wearing on you. Every moment that you looked at him, you wanted nothing more than to get your hands back on your former lover.

Face it, princess, you still love him and want nothing more than to fuck his brains out.

You could take your own advice and invest in a good vibrator. It wouldn't be good enough though. Nothing would be as good as the real thing.

There is nothing wrong with teasing Regulus and let him see what he’s missing.

That could be the most promising advice that you could give yourself at the moment. Sitting up, you let your eyes fall to the trunk that was in the corner. It was the one trunk that you hadn’t unpacked yet. You knew inside was one of Regulus’ school white dress shirts. After one very steamy sex meet up, you may have just taken it back to the Gryffindor tower with you.

You didn’t want to think about how over the past year that you would wear that shirt when you wanted to feel close to Regulus again.

Don’t be a buzzkill.

You thought as you shook the thoughts from your mind. Grinning evilly, you slid your dress, bra, and knickers off before opening the trunk and looking for the article of clothing that you needed.

Stepping outside of your bedroom door, you stood dressed in only Regulus’ shirt unbuttoned halfway with nothing else underneath. You had sent Sirius a message and told him to take Harry out for ice cream. This would be enough to keep Remus and Sirius out for a bit longer. You would have enough time to work your “magic.”

You peaked your head around the corner before walking into the living room. Regulus sat rather unsuspectingly minding his own business with a book on his lap. You weren't sure what would happen after this incident took place. Were you ready to take Regulus back and risk having your heart broken again? You weren't sure 100%. Time would have to tell on that one but getting laid for the first time in years sounded nice.

Time to put this plan into action

The moment that you walked casually through the living room you were never more thankful to be such a good actress. You were able to keep your face straight without blushing when Regulus looked up and dropped the drink that he was holding in his free hand. The only regret that you had was that you couldn’t see the expression on his face. You have paid money to be able to see what his face looked like.

Casually, you walked into the kitchen acting as though you didn’t see him. You had no idea what you were going to do in the kitchen. After standing still for a moment, you opened the refrigerator to look for some mystery item that would catch your eye. You had been pawing through the refrigerator for all of three seconds when you heard Regulus’ voice.

“One question, is that my shirt?”

_________

@amelie-black @regulusheadcanons @truly-insatiable @fandomsxxregulus @realgaytrash @quuenofblacks @lucasfilms77 @exhsle @hazncalsgal @jessyballet @knreidy1 @teletubiswszpilkach @mimisparkle12 @acciosiriusblack @fific7 @rubyroscoe1 @bennyberry @criminalyetminimal @whymyparentscheckmyphone @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @marichromatic @stuckinsaudi1 @untoldshortsofthefandoms @sprnaturallover @wontlookaway @shitfaceddaniel @deanwherescas @mycuddlycorner @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @sparkleofpizza

[lyricalimerence]

10 Things I Hate About You • 002

masterlist • 001, 002, 003... coming soon

Chapter Two — Heinous Bitches & Cliché Bets

summary: intro to kacey & the bet is made between kelce + topper

word count: 2196

warnings: mentions of smut like two or three lines total, swear words, and high school stupidity. oh, how i miss the dickstains i go to school with 😌.

a/n: i actually love writing kacey's character. n e who, this is for @popcsheyward because i'm making jj simp for u

Deep in the heart of the high school, a class of bored and inattentive seniors doodle in their notebooks and up the exposed skin on their arms; others text, their phones “hidden” beneaths their desks. Kacey Brooks was in the middle of it all. Everyone knew her, whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. It was the advent of spring, encroaching on summer, and on an island, that means it is hot. But, there Kacey sat, in baggy denim jeans, cuffed above her ankle so the hems didn’t drag along the floor. Her hands were tucked underneath her denim-clad thighs as she leaned over the desk, tracing the looping font that said “Romeo and Juliet” on the cover of the book on her desk with her eyes. God, she hated that book. They read it in Sophomore year, and she didn’t understand why they had to read the stupid play again.

The English teacher, Mr. Martin stood from his swivel chair, picking up his own copy of Romeo and Juliet just to drop it down on the podium, catching the drifting seniors’ attention. “Okay, slackers. What did you think of the play?”

A girl in the back of the classroom, another clean cut Kook with pink lip gloss and tight crop tops raised her hand. With a smile, she rushed into her opinion, not bothering to get permission to speak. It was a well known fact that in the Outer Banks it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. “It was so romantic. I loved it.”

Kacey’s brows stitched together, not mulling over her personal rebuttal for more than a moment before looking over her shoulder at the girl. Her eyes were glossy, lost in her romanization of the play. Ever since the second semester of her freshman year when she just snapped, she had been braving each day, treating it as a singular battle in the war against high school ignorance. “Romeo and Juliet was not romantic. It was two people having a teenage rebellion and wallowing in their own angst. They simply wanted an escape from their family lives. And Shakespeare? He was a racist, anti-semetic misogynist who is praised when he couldn’t decide on one way to spell his own name.”

The entirety of the class rolled their eyes, including Mr. Martin. It hadn’t been the first time Kacey had spoken out on her take on the social issues that came with the authors of novels and how they correlate to modern day society. Kelce, a Kook Prince of the highest degree and sitting to the left of Kacey, pokes at the metaphorical bear. “As opposed to a friendless, holier-than-thou wench?”

The girls pining after Kelce for his looks or trust fund giggled, despite his dig into the girl next him not being all that funny. Mr. Martin slapped the wooden podium with his Folger Shakespeare Library copy of Romeo and Juliet. “Pipe down, Slick.”

Kacey pulled the hem of her army green crop top to cover the slight bit of tanned skin exposed before quipping, “I guess having a dick and being a dick makes you entitled to our time.” The brunette pushed the hair falling over her forehead out of the way before waving her copy of the play in the air. “What about Sylva Plath or, I don’t know, Emily Bronte for all I care.”

Before Mr. Martin could respond with his own activistic rebuttal, Rafe Cameron walks into class, holding up a copy of the first Harry Potter book and raising his eyebrows, silently questioning whether that was the right book. He knew it wasn’t. “What’d I miss?”

A Pogue who was a known theatre nerd started humming the tune to the song from Hamilton titled What’d I Miss while Kacey all but spun in her seat. “Just the patriarchal values that run this lovely institution and corrupt the minds of dimwitted Kelce’s everywhere.”

Rafe nodded along to Kacey’s statement and through to her next breath, not having stopped in between words to breathe. “Good.” After his simple response, he immediately turned on his heel and walked back down the hall, rather enduring more uncomfortable conversations with the Dean than English class.

Kacey and Rafe had no ill will towards each other, only being able to base an opinion off the presumed stereotypes of each other that get passed around the school. Kacey and Rafe had known each other for a long time. When they were six, Kacey’s father was Rose Cameron’s obstetrician, seeing as he’s the best on the Outer Banks and the Camerons are the richest on the Outer Banks. That’s where they met: outside his stepmother’s hospital room, playing chopsticks with their fingers while they sat cross-legged on the tile floor, drinking apple juice from juice boxes. That’s where their friendship ended. They hadn’t really spoken since, only having that snapshot into reality before the doors were closed. Kacey was popular, had many more friends than Rafe did, and boys trailed her. When freshman year rolled around, he kept his distance because he knew he would walk away with a sharp pain in his groin. That was just how she carried herself, and he carried himself differently.

Mr. Martin attempted to call after Rafe, only to hear the cicadas buzzing outside.

“Mr. Martin, do you think we could get Kacey to take her Midol before class?” Kelce asks, his signature smirk gracing his face as he continued his quest to make Kacey’s life a living Hell. Snickers erupted from the class, causing Kelce’s smugness to go to his head, lifting himself onto his selfmade pedestal.

“One day, you’re gonna get bitch-slapped right across that brazen face of yours, and I’m not gonna do anything to stop it. Kacey, thank you for your input.” As Mr. Martin took a brief pause, Kacey smiled to herself, please that her social activism finally was justified by authority. He continued, “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to overcome upper-class, Kook oppression. It must’ve been awful.” Her chest puffed out with pride deflated at his words. She knew he was right. “But the next time you storm the school board campaigning for more recycling bins or whatever you white girls complain about, ask them why they can’t buy a book written by a Black man!”

“Understood. Anything else?” Kacey asked, looking straight past Mr. Martin and out the window overlooking the quad behind him.

“Yeah, go to the office, you’re pissing me off.” Her neck whipped to look at her English teacher at his words, opening her mouth to argue, but he shot her a stern look and pointed towards the door. In Kacey’s rageful frenzy, she decked Kelce in the face with her bag as she stormed out of the classroom towards the office.

The Dean sat in her office, her rouge painted nails clicking against the keys on her keyboard as the sleazy thoughts in her head transferred onto the Word document housing her novel. She whispered to herself as her fingertips ghosted the letter labeled keys on her laptop. She snapped her head up, calling out to the secretary, asking for her to look up another word for ‘engorged’ despite being able to pull up the thesaurus on her computer.

“Tumescent?” Kacey suggested as she walked into the small, pink office.

The Dean snapped her fingers, pointing at Kacey as she morphed her hand into a finger gun. “Perfect!” Kacey swung her bag off her shoulder and onto the ground next to the chair in which she seated herself. “I hear you’re terrorizing English class again.”

“Last time I checked, it wasn’t just English class, and expressing my opinions is not a terrorist action.” The eighteen-year-old raised her eyebrows indignantly, her head nodding slightly in authoritativeness.

The Dean smiled sarcastically at Kacey, “The way you expressed your opinion to Topper Thornton? His testical retrieval operation went quite well, if you’re interested.”

“I maintain he swung his own golf club up his legs like a field goal.” Kacey crossed her arms over her chest. She settled into her chair. Her conversations with the crude woman in front of her always went the same way; Mr. Martin threw her out of class for existing, and her previous deeds suddenly have updates that the Dean thinks Kacey should know about.

“The point I’m trying to make is that people think you’re a heinous bitch and you should work on it.” Her eyes flickered to her still open laptop and back up to the eighteen-year-old. “What do you think about blood sex?”

“Okay, yeah, this has been lovely, however,” grabbing her backpack, she swung it over her shoulder as she rose from the uncomfortable chair. “I think I’ll let you get back to Chris chokeslamming Jackie into a wall.”

As Kacey left the office to walk the halls of Kildare County High School, the Dean seemed to take her words into serious consideration, whispering Kacey’s final sentiment under her breath as she typed the word ‘chokeslam.’

. . .

Kelce leant against the stone wall that surrounded the courtyard and only rose to about waist-high of even the shortest of students. His best friend and fellow poster child for the effects of affluenza, Topper Thornton ( who is very acquainted with Kacey Brooks and her golf club swing ), stood next to him, the two of them surveying the inhabitants of the grassy lawn in the back of the school. Topper noticed Gracie walking through the gap in the stone wall, her Spanish textbook pressed to her chest as she nodded along to what Arianna said next to her. The familiar breeze carrying the scent of the ocean and the feeling of home blew the short strands of Gracie’s hair that framed her face in almost an angelic way, and her sundress that fell to her mid-thigh swayed as she walked. Gracie and Arianna were picturesque, almost like they actively strived to be compared to Cher and Dionne from Clueless.

With a carnal smirk, Topper elbowed Kelce, muttering “Virgin alert” as the sophomore passed the two guys, smiling and waving at Kelce as they went.

“Lookin’ good, ladies.” As if Kelce’s remark was a que, Gracie and Arianna pushed forward, leaving the hormonal teenager guys watching them like they were prey for them to catch.

“No way, Bro. They’re outta your league.”

“No one’s out of my league.” Kelce’s eyes didn’t leave Gracie as she distanced herself from them.

Topper pulled fifty dollars out of his pocket, “Wanna bet?”

“Nah, I’ve got money. This’ll be for fun.” Kelce pushed Topper’s hand that was holding onto the bill away and dapped up his empty hand, sealing the deal. Kelce was about to embark on one of the most cliché, tropical bets of his high school experience.

“Just look at her, man.” JJ watched Gracie and Arianna pass him, John B, and Pope. He followed her with love struck eyes and wistful pining.

Pope tilted his head, the cap that sat on his head almost falling off his head as he tried to understand his friend’s mindset. “She’s just so…”

“Perfect?” JJ offered.

John B and Pope shared a glance, rolling their eyes at JJ’s suggestion. “I was going to say ditzy.” John B replied.

“How can you say that?” JJ turned to glance at his friends who were totally unimpressed by the girl that captured almost all the guy’s hearts at the high school. “She’s totally…”

“Narcissistic?” Pope said, getting a nod from John B in agreement.

“That’s her sister, c’mon, guys.” JJ waved his hand in the air for emphasis. There was no way Gracie was like Kacey. They were too polar. “There’s more to her than you think. See her smile? She’s totally pure.”

“Yeah, pure money. She’s a Kook, dude.” John B ran a hand through his overgrown brunet locks. “What’s there is a snotty princess wearing a dress that was purposefully planned to make Pogues like you realize you can’t have her and Kooks like Kelce and Topper want her.”

“Besides, JJ, you know the rule. It’s not like she could date you even if she wanted to.” Pope added on, readjusting his baseball cap to fit snugly on his head.

“Put her in the Spank Bank and move on, Bro.” John B and Pope started walking in the opposite direction, lunch was about to start.

JJ jogged to catch up, shaking his head in denial. “Nah.”

“Move on, man. Jizz Wizz and then dip.” Pope reiterated John B’s sentiment as JJ held his arm out, stopping them in their tracks in front of the bulletin board to the right of the door into school.

“She needs a Spanish tutor,” He ripped the paper advertisement off the cork board.

“You can’t even speak Spanish.”

“What do you mean?” JJ looked at John B as he traced Gracie’s phone number printed on the paper.

“Broken Spanish and fantasizing about lobsters from Yucatan doesn’t mean you know Spanish.” Pope pulled the paper out of JJ’s hand, ready to tack it back to the board before JJ took it again.

“Okay, so I don’t know Spanish, but I will.”

tags — @perkily @mortifiedposts @poguequeen @abigailpankow @curlybrownhairedboys @steverogers123 @outerbankslut @jayjaymaebank @jjssarah @whOreforharry @wowitswondergurl @anonymous0writer @kodi8314 @outrbank @aestheticcraze @kylosleftbuttcheek @x-lulu @dailygrace06 @calswildflower95 @insanitysparkles @prejudic3 @ilovejjmaybank @apoguecalledjj @xxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooo @calumbroutledge @rudys-pankow @bxllasanosa @write-from-the-heart @thelocalpogue @fandomsinapile @starkeymarkey @lovingxjj @beatement-l @drew-starkey @beckester @butgilinsky @kayak-huesgen @everydayimfangirling @delinquentstarkey @g4bster @crumpetsandmarmite

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if you want to be added to the taglist for just this series click here

[bi-hippie5]

Jealous Boy

Description: Frat boy Harry AU Mini Series. Nova and Harry are both headstrong and know exactly what they want and how to get it, besides each other. After a summer romance that ended in flames they are back to school and forced to interact.

Masterlist 

I knew I shouldn’t have come to this party, I told myself before we left that it was not going to turn out well like it always does. The house is pretty well lit which is shocking to me since most parties are so dark that at least ten people fall down the steps. Everything is so loud that no one can have a somewhat decent conversation with the person next to them. The house smells like weed and B.O and my sneakers are sticking to the wooden floor by the amount of beer that’s been spilt.

 I could have come up with so many excuses to not come but none of my sorority sisters were taking any of them. This was one time where living in a house with twenty other girls makes it harder to get away with not going to parties. After they begged I finally gave in and put myself in a pair of jeans and crop top and left the house following them with a pout.

 I grabbed a red cup of whatever alcohol they had and found a corner in the house so I wouldn’t have to deal with anyone. Everyone seemed to know to leave me alone, some of the brothers and other sisters said hello, but didn’t try to start a conversation. Besides Cody, he’s a sweet kid from my art class and I could tell he’s been pinning after me all semester. He seemed pretty tipsy, maybe a little high too, but he had a lot more courage than he would during class. 

 He strutted himself over to me and started talking up a storm, mostly flirting. I didn’t mind though and I let him keep going and even allowed him to place his hands low on my back. He was cute with great bone structure and nice long blonde hair that he tied up. Any girl would want him just by looks alone but he could be kind of shy. I felt bad for the kid because I know myself and that I would break his heart in a minute. Yet, tonight I had enough alcohol flowing through my system that I wasn’t thinking about anyone’s deep feelings, plus he might not even remember this whole interaction in the morning and will go back to being nervous every time he talks to me in class. 

 I wasn’t always this cold hearted or in a bad mood, I loved going to parties and having fun and I would be so into boys like Cody. However, when someone breaks your heart then it’s a bit harder to be cheerful like you once were. The main reason why I wasn’t listening to poor Cody is because my eyes were glued to that person who did break my heart and I was trying to avoid. 

 There were those dark curls that were just begging you to run your fingers through them were covered by a red snapback. Then a black t-shirt that hugged his biceps in such a way that made every girl go crazy, plus those damn tattoos. Some girl from the lacrosse team had her arms around his neck and ass pressed against his. I try to hold back the jealousy because I know better to not get angry over him anymore. All the girls wanted him, that’s something anyone could tell you and he loves the attention. My eyes scan up to his beautiful face with those green eyes meeting my hazel ones. When I knew him, there was this shine behind his eyes and a smile on his face but right now the light is gone. All I see is darkness and I know deep inside that he deserves it, he hurt me. Why should I feel sorry for his pain? 

 I break our eye contact and try to concentrate on the words leaving Cody’s lips, but I can feel his eyes digging holes into my skin. I look back over to him and I can see the jealousy all over his face as Cody’s hand gets lower on my body settling on my ass. He whispers something into the girl's ear and she nods quickly and heads upstairs. I curse in my head as he starts heading towards us and I know I shouldn’t do anything rash, but I do.

I look away from him and grab the back of Cody’s neck connecting our lips. He was shocked at first but recovered fast kissing me back. He was actually a great kisser and in any other situation I would totally give in to his flirting but today is not the day. Someone clears their throat next to us making me separate from the flustered boy in front of me. Harry stands right next to us and I can see the anger taking over his body. 

“Nova, Vanessa wants me to come get you, it's time to leave” he almost yells. I try not to laugh at his stupid excuse to get me away from Cody. First Vanessa didn’t even come tonight since she had something to do and second, she knows all about Harry and hates him more than anything. I don’t say anything at first just watching him trying to make sense of his actions. I can tell Cody is confused as he looks between us but his hands never leave my body. 

 “Fine” I won’t want to talk to him but this could be my excuse to go home. I turn back to Cody who has a cute little pout on his lips since I agreed to leave. “I’ll call you” I attach my lips back to him quickly before Harry is grabbing my wrist and yanking me out of the party. He walks pretty fast up the stairs of the basement and out of the house into the cold night. I don’t care to make a conversation with him but the grip he has on my wrist is tight enough that I can’t pull out and walk away from him. Once we are a couple of blocks away from the house he finally stops turning to face me and let's go of my wrist. He’s pissed I can tell by the way he stands so tense and way too close. 

 “What was that or really who was that in the first place, I can’t believe you” He screams so loud that the people at the party could probably hear him if the music was turned down. I roll my eyes at him before taking a step away and heading towards campus and back to my room. Of course, he doesn’t like that action and starts following me. “You’re not going to answer me, really wow grow up Nova and stop being such a damn child” stopping dead in my tracks I turn around to face him and I can feel my blood boiling because who gave him the right. 

 “You want me to grow up, please tell me you're joking because you don’t get to do this Harry, remember” I take a step closer so that we are face to face with only a small space between us. “You broke my heart not the other way around, you don’t have the right to get jealous and angry at me for my actions. I can do whatever I want, my actions don’t concern you anymore” I scream because he was the one that wanted to end whatever we had because he was afraid of what others would say. Plus, he didn’t want to commit. He liked the attention that people gave him, he loved his popularity and the role he played on campus and our feelings for each other were nothing compared to the way he lived his life. 

 “Nova...please” he begged, voice getting lower and I can see his eyes glaze over like he would cry at any moment. But, I can’t feel sorry for him. He did this and he deserves to feel the way that I once did, still do. 

 “No, you don’t get to do this” I didn’t stay to hear him beg for me again and I walked as fast as I could to make it back to the house. I don’t allow myself to cry till I’m finally in my room with the door locked and I’m alone. He isn’t worth my tears but the amount of emotions that course through my body when he does stuff like this is overwhelming. Crawling into my bed and throwing my blanket over my head I try to block out everything that is Harry and get some kind of sleep. 

[harryissuchalittleshit]

James and Marcie with the kids headcanons please.❤️

There are nine kids here, we are going in birth order, not family factions:

Jason Harry Potter:

Born June 16, 2023

Thought to be the oldest Potter grandchild until Collin came into the family

He is a spoiled little bean, by both of his grandparents and all of his aunts and uncles, this kid didn’t touch the floor for about his first eight months

Al is his godfather!

He is a proud Gryffindor like his parents and grandparents

He has a really uneasy relationship with both of his parents (James and Katie) after the divorce and also with Marci

There is a lot of anger towards all three of the main adults in his life, mostly as he thinks his parents moved on too quickly

James does get fed up with him while Marci is pregnant with Lilliana and just kicks him out

He goes to Harry and Ginny’s

He’s closer to his Grandpa Harry and Nana Ginny then anyone else

He does eventually come around to Marci, she kills him with kindness and he actually likes being an oldest brother to all the kids

He gets really close to Josey because they only have a three year age difference and he knows how scary it can be at Hogwarts that first year

Jason grows out of his brattiness towards James when he’s about 16/17, but it’s mostly thanks to his younger siblings

Josey Caroline Abraham:

Born December 10, 2026

Her parents got divorced when she was nine, and then Marci moved them to England

She is the oldest of her siblings, so she tries to be strong for her little sister and brother, but she just feels so alienated in England

She is very apprehensive of James, but he doesn’t try to be her dad or anything more than a friend right away

She’s still close to her dad after the move, but then he never shows up the summer before she starts Hogwarts

James takes her out to ice cream when it becomes obvious that her dad isn’t going to show and they go ring shopping for Marci after

She’s a Slytherin, and gets really close to Al, but it’s Jason who really takes her in, and Collin

When she’s fifteen, she asks James to formally adopt her, as he had already adopted her siblings and she was ready for him to be her dad

It took her a long time to realize that he was more of a dad to her than her father

Kerrie LeeAnne Potter:

Born March 21, 2029

She was six when the divorce happened compare to Jason’s twelve

She has a hard time remembering what it was like before the divorce and before Marci

She isn’t close to Katie, but she’s the same age as Hallie so Marci groups them together a lot

This isn’t an issue for either of them, until school

Because Kerrie is eleven before September first and Hallie isn’t

She does have her cousin Michael Harry (Lily’s oldest) and Jason is 17 and Josey is 14

But it doesn’t feel right until Hallie starts school the next year

She is a Gryffindor

Marci adopts her after she marries James, along with Hazel

Hallie Sarah Abraham:

Born October 29, 2029

She had just turned seven when her parents divorced and they moved

She chooses not to remember her father and is more than happy to accept James into her life

He takes her out flying because her own father refuses to

It becomes their thing, and James takes her out every Monday evening

James adopts her after he marries Marci along with Mike Anthony

She is sorted into Ravenclaw when she goes to Hogwarts, and she finds a home in blue and bronze

She gets on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team her second year and James couldn’t be more proud of her

She becomes one of the best Seekers since Harry played

Micheal Anthony Abraham:

Born April 3, 2032

He was four when his parents divorced

He refuses to get in contact with his dad when he reaches out, he claims that James is the only dad he’s ever known

He loves being an older brother, and he looks up to Jason so much

Even though they have a nine year age difference, Jason becomes really fond of Mike Anthony and names him godfather of his first kid

Mike Anthony is only thirteen but he takes it very seriously

He is sorted into Ravenclaw when he gets to Hogwarts

He writes home twice a month and once a week to Jason and his godson

He always tries to make his letters interesting and it gets him interested in storytelling

By the time he graduates from Hogwarts, he has a job at the Prophet and a novel that he’s trying to get published

He writes auror novels using the stories that Al and Harry and Ron and Scorpius would tell him when he was younger

James and Marci are so proud of him

Hazel Kathryn Potter:

Born September 12, 2033

She is two when her parents divorce and Marci is who she knows as her mum

She called Marci ‘mum’ or ‘mama’ straight from the get go, even before they officially started dating

She doesn’t remember being the youngest, so she has always been an older sister

She loves her siblings, ALL of them

She’s sorted into Hufflepuff when she goes to Hogwarts

When she is older Katie does try to come back into her life

She has always known that Marci wasn’t her mother, but Katie isn’t her mum

James makes sure that Katie knows there is no going back on this, and Hazel overhears the whole argument

She is always a little strained around Katie, but it works for the best

Hazel knows where Jason and Kerrie stand on Katie, but it doesn’t change her relationship with Katie

Marci is the one to push Hazel to open up a little to Katie, and promises that she will always be there for her

It’s the reassurance Hazel needs to let Katie know who she is as a person

Lilliana Ginevra Potter:

Born November 11, 2036

James and Marci get married about a month before her second birthday

Just like her oldest brother, she’s a little bean

She is the one that brings the whole family together, she gets Jason to stop fighting with James

Jason is the first person after James and Marci to hold her, the first sibling to do so

She’s loud and keeps the whole house awake the first three months she’s born

She’s really funny and always trying to make people laugh, which works well as she has no idea why all of her older siblings are so cranky all the time

She’s a Hufflepuff, following after her favorite older sister Hazel

When Katie tries to build a relationship with Hazel, Lilliana is so confused

She thought that Hazel was her biological sister and not her half-sister

It doesn’t change their relationship, but it does make the younger three question their siblings lives before they were born and their parents

James and Marci make it clear that nothing is different just because they’re not fully related to their older siblings

But Lilliana gets really interested in how families come together and decides to become a social worker

She ends up working with her Grandpa Harry and her Great Aunt Hermione is putting children in homes and keeping them protected

She ends up changing how fostering/adoption works in the Wizarding World

Erinn Roxanne Potter:

Born February 8, 2038

She was born about five months after James and Marci got married

Out of all the kids, she is the one with the middle child syndrome

She feels constantly over looked, except when Marci brings her to work

She loves visiting the Prophet offices, the noise, the news, and the knowledge she gains makes it all worth it

She looks just like James but is Marci’s little girl

She’s sorted in Ravenclaw when she goes to school

Mike Anthony is a seventh year and wants nothing to do with his baby sister, but she doesn’t care

She joins the school newspaper and takes it by storm

When she leaves Hogwarts, she goes to Witch Weekly and becomes one of their best gossip columnists

She had an in to every Quidditch League party through her sister (Hallie) and her dad, also she can get into any Potter/Weasley event as she’s family

But ever story she writes is completely true, her family is just crazy

Camren James Potter:

Born January 16, 2040

The absolute baby of the Potter family

He is used to being teased by the family and is good at giving it back

He spends a lot of time with his grandparents and is used to being passed off

He loves stilling and watching the Wasps practice, he is a great junior coach to James

He is a Gryffindor when he goes to school, just like James

He is a bit of a trouble maker, and even Al has trouble giving him detention

He’s just too good with the puppy dog eyes

He’s a great chaser, but falls in love with keeping, and eventually becomes captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team

He gets signed on to the Arrows after graduating from Hogwarts, the team Hallie started out in before going to the international team

He and Hallie play together in her last game on the international team and bring the Quidditch World Cup back to England

I just want to say that James and Marci are so proud of all their children and the choices they made in their lives. They didn’t always get along or made sense to each other, but they all love on another!

Send me a Weasley for head canons!

[peeterparkr]

clear|20|t.h.

CHAPTER 20: ECLIPSE.

pairing: surfer!tom x reader

word count: 5.5k

warnings: angst, cancer mention, swearing, chemotherapy. 

summary: The summer ends. 

series masterlist playlist (updated!) previous chapter epliogue

what did you think?

Hello! This is the Last Chapter of Clear, thanks for everyone who’s stuck around through this mess, thank you so much for your support. Love you guys, I loved writing this and while there’s still an epilogue on its way, I am sad this ended but... I’m glad there are people who liked this story as much as I loved writing it. I listened to Harry Styles’ new album while writing this. And you should too. Or listen to the playlist. 

That was not the last time Tom had ended up in the hospital. As the summer came to an end, there were more and more nights when Y/N would be in the waiting room along with his brothers and parents. 

Other times Y/N would go to the beach and facetime him so they could watch the sunset together. Still, they tried to see summer differently. Like a summer chickflick. Ice cream, sunny days, and sitting on the swing outside the cottage. Y/N had begun painting her grandfather, her grandmother. 

Suns and Moons. 

Her grandparents' house was now painted with a beautiful story, with a sea, which began with shells, and followed with waves and riptide, and then followed with storms, and Ferris wheels, ice cream, suns, moons, surfboards and lighthouses. It was a masterpiece, no doubt. A story worth telling. 

Y/N had organized a surprise, a surfing competition between them, simply because Tom had not been able to participate. Due to her grandfather's incident, they had to return back and y/n was always blaming herself for him losing his chance.  It was a game between them, clearly, Tom won. 

“When will you go to London?” She asked Tom, while they were in the Blue Valley, he was lying on the sand while she painted shells, of different colours. 

"I need to save money, maybe in a year," Tom confessed. 

Y/N fell silent. She didn't want to say much. One year. 

"What?"

Tom sighed. “I thought I mentioned it.” 

“But… You said…” 

“Yes, I will go to London,” said Tom. "But it's expensive ..." 

Y/N sighed. "And what if ... I could sell my grandfather's car, it would help you-" 

"I don't want to be anyone's charity." 

"It's not charity," Y/N said. "I love you and-" 

"I don't want you to, Y/N," Tom said. "Really, I can wait." 

"Your cancer can’t." 

They had been counted, the times Y/N had used the word with c. But that was the time it hurt the most. Tom supposed she was right. But there wasn't much he could do. 

"Well, maybe not a year, but ... You know, I still have to fix things." 

"Well, fix them. Time does not wait, time does not forgive." 

And she was right. Time simply follows. The tide was not going to go down. Tom had to make a decision. And it was still not clear what it should take.

There are no people who are meant to be. There are no soulmates, as some like to call them. Love does not come from someone who is tailor-made for someone. No, love, it's a decision. And it is choosing to continue taking it. But sometimes the decision that has to be made involves letting go. 

They were both watching a sunset, letting the waves wet their legs, sitting on that surfboard that Y/N had painted. Both feared for the end. Because well, everything comes to an end.

Summer was over, his love was not, but they had to make decisions. Decisions that would probably make that wave that looked far away, terrifying for Y/N and challenging for Tom, become somewhat minimal. It was such a tiny wave compared to the decision they would have to make. 

It is not easy to say goodbye. Less when two people love each other. 

But they had already learned lessons, the tide had brought to the shore ways to heal them both. Heal them of diseases. Make a smile again after a dark moment. They found themselves in each other's eyes. 

And it came down to something simple, to a story that Y/N would have loved to see in a romantic movie. Making it simply as simple and superficial. A surfer falling in love with a painter. A popular boy falling in love with a quiet girl. A girl who was born again, and a boy who lived again. A boy who turned all gold and a girl who turned all blue. A girl who was the moon and a boy who was the sun.

Simple. Beautiful. Colourful. 

There are times when you can not stand with the different options and alternatives that life gives you. It is easy to accept that there is a risk that is actually based on non-existent probabilities.

But they had already decided. Tom had decided it, at least. They would have to break up. Tom had taken it for granted, for her, for him. Because he didn't know what the future would hold. 

It was healthy. For now. Because while they had found each other in their eyes, they needed to know who they were after being reborn. Who they were after seeing that the sea had decanted the salt that was leftover. Heal wounds. They needed to be alone, no matter how much it hurt.

Besides, Tom wouldn't go to London. Not so soon, however. He had to get prepared for the chemos and had to take more therapy sessions. But they would see each other. Tom thought, at least.

It was not a pretty conversation. Not at first, at least. 

"I need you to live," Tom told her. "Y/N, listen, listen." 

"You promised not to get rid of me," Y/N said, raising her voice. "No ... No." 

"It's temporary." 

"And what do you know?" Y/N finally shouted. “You can't… You can't just say goodbye to someone you love when you still have time.” 

“I am doing it for you.” 

“For me?” She laughed. "Tom, you said it yourself, time ... All this." 

Tom took his hands. "It's temporary, easy, easy y/n, we'll ... we'll see what happens in London." 

"But, Tom what if ..." 

"You're being very negative, Y/N," Tom continued. 

She sighed. "That’s who I am, okay?" She laughed softly, mocking herself. "I always turn everything blue, remember?" 

"But you also see the positive side, yes, I love you, but this ... This is ... For both of us you ... were reborn y/n and I still need to know who I am. I barely know it anymore, and I need to figure it out. Alone. ” 

He kissed him, an innocent kiss. 

"I will never stop loving you," Y/N told him. 

"Until my last breath." Tom had hugged her. But she had screamed again, and it didn't end well. 

They had been, for the last days, both fighting for their decision. Y/N said they had to be together. Tom begged her to find out who she was. 

“It's just… Tom, no… I don't understand why it has to end like this, we should be like any movie, you know? Any love story. ” 

“We are not a book, we are not a story, Y/N, you said it, ”Tom reminded her. “I need… I need to know that I will be fine.” 

“You will be,” said Y/N. "And although ..." 

"We both know that there is a possibility that I won’t be, everything looks blurry, Y/N, I can't commit to this," Tom explained. "I want you to ... Be happy." 

"But I'm happy with you," she said. 

"And I am happy with you, but I need you to get ahead, okay?" Tom asked. 

"But how?" She frowned. “Please, do… Do something, so then I can hate you and even forget you.” 

“What?” 

“If you're going to break up with me at least make me hate you, it will be easier to know that it's over for something ugly rather than knowing we still love each other. ” 

“No, because we love each other...Exactly because of that, I don't want to say goodbye with tears and reproaches, ”Tom asked. “You just have to let us go.” 

“No, Tom… You can't build… It's like… It will erase a whole summer,” she explained. 

"No, no," Tom said. "Do you remember everything you painted?" He asked. 

“Tom, Tom, please,” she rolled her eyes, “not the time.” 

“Our story will remain there, on those paintings,” I continued. 

"What a stupid thing to say," she frowned, laughing. 

Tom was thrown back. “What?” 

“All of this summer, for nothing? And you try to come up with a wise romantic thing so I simply forget you're breaking up with me? ” 

Tom closed his eyes. "Y/N." 

"It is stupid," she continued. “Sorry, sorry. It's all so blurry right now. ” 

“Exactly, maybe this will make things finally… clear. ” 

 And that had been his goodbye. So Y/N had returned to her old apartment in London, she would continue studying and painting. Tom kept surfing. Because sometimes love is about letting go. Sometimes love is simply knowing that you have to move on. 

They stopped talking. She was finding herself in London, with her life back in her sights. To Tom's bad luck, Y/N had started to hang out with Marcus Jones. 

Nothing important, but Tom knew that this could be good, in the future, at least. Tom knew who Marcus Jones was for Y/N. Marcus Jones had been what had kept Y/N a little distracted. Tom thought they had started dating. 

He did not ask her about it, he did not talk to her.

How do you continue life after having lived a summer with such enthusiasm? The worst part about pain is that when you think it finally ends, it comes back stronger. To test your resilience, which sometimes isn't enough.

After months, Tom had gone to London. Around Christmas time. Talk about a Miracle. 

Something that nobody says about chemos is how they take your life by putting your death on an extension. 5 years. 5 years that were nothing more than a promise without foundation. Chemotherapies that were just a way to delay the inevitable. They did not promise to eradicate it, and they did not promise that he would last the whole 5 years. 

Tom was listening to those words. He was in London and his mother was holding his hand. The doctor was explaining the whole procedure and Tom really didn't want to pay attention. A lot of blablabla about how there could be side effects and how they didn't make promises, how this could weaken him and how he would go once a week. The cares he had to maintain and how he was going to lose a bit of his essence. 

Tom knew that. Tom was perfectly sure that despite being alive, he would not have a... life. 

But there was a motivation, Y/N. Y/N was in London. And at first, he had hesitated to call her, but eventually ... He called Joanne.  

And the response was quick, they would see each other in a cafe. 

How different everything was. The sea breeze was no longer felt, and both were in big coats and with their cheeks pink from the cold. And yet, seeing her, Tom remembered July, with the heat and the tide and the waves and the fires. Tom saw Joanne and remembered Y/N. With his sleepless nights and painting and discussions ending in kisses. Y/N was fine, he knew. 

Tom ... Tom would be fine. Eventually.

He saw her and they hugged each other like old friends, as if they had gone to study elsewhere and simply gathered to know what was going to happen through life. 

And they started to catch up, telling about their adventures. She would often visit the town, near Croyde, stayed at her grandfather's house and dated Haz, but Tom usually avoided seeing her, it was hard to know that he had let Y/N go, with a silly excuse. And he felt again as if it were summer, as if it were an afternoon in July with Y/N's embrace listening to Joanne’s stories.  

Tom explained, how it would be, his cycles would last 6 weeks. He would be there for a while. He told her he would have breaks and told her he’d probably go surf in those breaks, although he knew he wouldn’t have the strength, but he didn’t tell her that, only the good things. He didn't tell Joanne about the side effects or the bad times that would happen, he didn't say it was basically postponing his death, nor did he tell her it wasn't safe. He told her that after 5 years, he would be cancer-free. 

He asked for Y/N. Because he knew that being with her would make everything clearer. 

"She's studying, she's doing a speciality... And in the afternoons she studies arts," she explained. "I thought you would call her." 

"I will ..." Tom replied. "Eventually." 

She looked at him. 

"She still loves you, you know?" Joanne told him. 

Tom cleared his throat. "And I love her." 

"I never understood ... What happened." 

Tom sighed. “I think we were both in murky waters, in the end, her greatest fear was true. We were swimming in riptide. ” 

“She used the word storm, ”Joanne said. 

Tom laughed. "She always said that I was one." 

"Are you?" 

Tom laughed. "I didn't plan it to be this bittersweet." 

Joanne shook her head. "You don't always have a happy ending." 

"We wouldn't have had it anyway," Tom said sadly. 

"What about the 5 years of treatment?" Joanne asked. 

Tom shrugged. "Nothing sure." 

"Then?" Joanne asked. “Why the hell are you not going and looking for her? Have a fucking happy ending! Live what you have left together! ”  

Tom sighed. “Yes, I suppose, yes. But what about Marcus? I know she is seeing him. ” 

“ They work together, I don't know if they date, I just know that whenever I go to Croyde, she asks me about you, I can't tell her much because, well, I don't see you much, I also didn't know that you were in London. ” 

“ And why doesn't she call me? ” 

“I guess because you asked her not to. ”Joanne crossed her arms. 

"Well, I ..." Tom sighed. “Will you tell her?” 

“I don't know, Y/N has changed.” 

“Is she okay?” 

“Yes, perfectly, she keeps painting and… She's happy,” Joanne admitted. “She brought the blue Jeep, she wants to open her gallery.” 

“See? That is her happy ending, she has ... to live, take a brush and paint it all blue. ” 

Joanne looked at him. "You know, I think I owe you a favour," she reminded him. 

"I thought we had already settled it," Tom denied. "I mean, I owed you one and now ..." 

"I don't know," Joanne chuckled. “I could tell her to come now, you know? Tell her I want to see her in this cafe ... "

"I think it's not time yet. "Tom sighed. “I wanna… Heal, you know? I want to be sure that medicine will work. ” 

“ And if it doesn't? ”Joanne asked, a little more directly than Tom wanted. 

Tom crossed his arms. "Well thanks for your good will and vibes." 

Joanne closed her eyes. “Sorry, sorry… I just can't stand to know that… You are apart, you know? I see a whole summer and it seems that everything went to hell in a second, please, you are Y/N and Tom! You have to go find her in the rain while she is crying in a car. ” 

Tom sighed. "Yes, yes, problem is, London is too big, and I can't really afford the luxury to stand out, shaking in the rain anymore." 

Joanne looked at him sadly. "Sorry ... Yes, you're right." 

"I owe you, though," Tom admitted. “For bringing her into my life.”

"Really?" Joanne asked. "Huh, and all because I wanted to go out with Harrison." 

Tom laughed after coughing. "Yes, thanks to those blue eyes." 

"And that blond hair," Joanne said. 

Tom looked down. "You ... your sister ever mentioned some of my hair?" 

"Why would I do it?" Joanne asked. 

"I don't know ... I don't know," Tom cleared his throat. "Well, I hope you didn't like it for that." 

Joanne avoided her gaze, knowingly. “Oh, no, she… she liked you for you.” 

“I'm… debating,” admitted Tom. "There's these ... Cold caps," Tom bit his lip. “To minimize hair loss.” 

“Right,” Joanne sighed. “And do you want to wear them?” 

“Dunno, they said it can be really painful but, well, I won't be the prince charming with amazing hair but…” 

“And you need it?” Joanne pushed. 

"My hair?" Tom laughed. "I ... I guess?" 

"For what?" 

"I dunno, my happily ever after," Tom joked. “There's never been a bald prince.” 

“And there never really was a prince with cancer and a princess with anxiety,” Joanne spoke, clearly. Tom wasn't sure if her wording was what I needed to hear, he  had started to refer to it as' the c-word '. "And yet." 

"And yet," Tom admitted. "I ..." 

Joanne smiled. "You know, a lot of things happen after a conventional Happily Ever After, life is more than that," she said. 

"It doesn't always work out," Tom nodded. 

"It's because it's not the end," Joanne told him. "Not really." 

And it wasn't. And it was impossible. And neither of them had called the other, because they still had to meet. Tom was far from doing it, but he was in London and going to the places where he would believe Y/N would be found. She was never there 

How easy it was to live in the fantasy of his summer, and how difficult it was now to be in that cold London. 

Real life was not like that romantic comedy they had lived in. Less now in rainy London. Tom was going to the chemos and little by little the light he had found in the summer was fading. His hair fell and his dark circles grew, his skin paled. 

An effect of chemotherapy, Tom said, was to look like a zombie. Besides, he saw others around him, fading away, but with hope. 

Nikki and Tom lived in an old apartment they had rented, Nikki hadn't told him to whom it belonged. His brothers also went to see him, they took turns. Sometimes everyone came. Paddy liked to spend time with Tom, alone. 

Jared went to visit him one day. It was like talking with an old friend, for the first time Tom didn't see him with such contempt and Jared seemed genuinely worried. 

Haz would go visit him several times too. Even Joanne appeared from time to time, but not Y/N. 

Tom was returning to London and at each visit, he intended to speak to her, he never did. And he didn't understand why she didn't look for him either.

On one of his many visits to the hospital, he had a recurrence. His mother told him that several of his friends had come to visit him while he was unconscious. He would have sworn he had seen Y/N beside his bed at the hospital. 

Tom was an idiot. He had to call her. Who does not speak to who is possibly the love of his life? Tom was in a crisis. Because everything was still blurry. And he didn't have any strength. Another side effect. See yourself becoming what you did not want to be. 

But it was for a good thing, right? 

It's stressful, isn't it? Knowing that he lived something extraordinary and that he was now someone who no longer radiated light. He had no colors. Tom did not speak. He did not sing and when he returned, he did not want to surf. 

Days after relapse around summer, Lex had gone to visit him in London. 

"Do you remember when we came a few years ago?" She asked. 

Tom just nodded. 

"I want that, Tom," Lex admitted. "That light you had, all golden, no ..." 

Tom looked at her. 

"I don't mean with me, I know you wouldn't be happy," said Lex. "But yes ... I do want you to be." 

"Be what?"

"Happy." 

And that week ... that same week was his birthday. He could go home and have a party, pretending everything was fine. Another summer pretending. 

On one of those days when Tom just felt cold, even though summer had come again, because it does get harder, he was staring at the ceiling of that old apartment they lived in. It was his birthday, His mother was not there, he had gone to God knows where, he supposed to buy him a cake. His mother did that, he supposed, to forget all this. It was raining, as always. London always seemed to adorn his sad days with rain. Tom was fed up, he had become someone he didn't want to be with, and what else could he do? He was always alone with his thoughts. 

He heard how they knocked on the door. Tom sighed and eagerly approached. 

"Who's there?" 

"Someone who's interested in some surfing puns," a warm voice called from the door. 

Tom opened it quickly and saw her, with a full bag, and a shy smile. She had certain raindrops around. 

"Y/N," he murmured. 

"Is it ... a good time?" She asked. He let her in while she hugged the bag. "I came to ... I came ... Well, I, I know you wanted time, but ... Your mother called me and then," she smiled delicately, while she looked at him sadly. 

"I ..." 

"No, no, I know," she looked at him. His hair had fallen, his eyes were dark and his skin paled. "I ... brought you this," he said as Tom sat down. She handed the bag over and he looked at it, shells. “They're yours.” 

“What?” He stared at her hands, full of paint. It was a weird parody of his own hands, full of bruises. 

“They're the ones you gave me at the beginning of the summer, last year,” she reminded him. 

"Oh, they were a gift," Tom chuckled. “They're yours…” 

“No, no, look at them, see? I painted them, ”she told him as she took one out, showing him the colours. 

He smiled. "Thank you." And for the first time, he had smiled in a long time, genuinely. And the colour on his cheeks had returned. 

"Happy birthday," she told him, with a small smile. 

And Tom was struggling not to throw himself into her arms. But he only replied with a simple, "Thanks." 

She looked at him. "Hey, hey, I .." She cleared her throat. “I came here because I wanted to take you out.” 

“Out.” 

“I enjoy your company, I've missed you, and really, you're such a mess, you need some sun,” she said, quoting the exact words Tom had used the summer before. He smiled. 

"Really, Y/N?" He asked her. 

"Really, let's go have an anti-date in London, my style this time, alright?" She grinned. “I want to show you my secret place in London, and… who knows?” 

“I… I can't really…” Tom coughed. 

“Tom, c'mon.” 

“Fine.” 

And he put on a jacket. He didn't know very well how to act in front of someone he had already seen the stars with. How were they supposed to go from being someone who loved to two strangers? 

But, the moment they got into the blue jeep, everything was forgotten, they talked like they did in the summer and although Tom sometimes had to take time to breathe, he was still the same. And Tom felt how she, with her words, was painting on him again, but she didn't paint a storm this time, she painted a clear blue sky. Y/N had changed, she looked free, happy. 

"So, your ... secret place?" Tom asked as soon as they arrived at an old place, it was an old building, winged from an old coffee shop and a clothing store. 

"Yep." 

"Are you kidnapping me?" Tom asked. 

"I should, honestly, that's how I'd make sure you're not leaving me this time," Y/N joked. 

Tom laughed. "I ..." 

"No, no, I don't want to hear it, it's a new summer now, okay?" She told him. 

He walked inside and looked at him, there really wasn't much, it was a single room, white with some drawings of Y/N hanging here and there. There was a table in the centre and two chairs. The place was a bit disastrous, there were canvases, some painted, some blank, paint on the floor, easels around the place. Y/N lit some candles. 

“And what’s this place?” 

“My gallery,” confessed Y/N. "Well, it will be one day, it’s my studio… Gallery, my..Everything, my room is upstairs." 

Tom smiled. "I see you did well." 

“This old place?” She laughed. Y/N smiled sadly, shrugging. "No ... not exactly, I missed you, I still do," she confessed.

Tom approached her, cupping her cheeks “Missed you too.” 

“But I understand, you know? I think it was good to clear my life, sort it out. ”She walked around the place. "Well, everything is better." 

Tom looked at her. Things had cleared up for him too, he needed Y/N's light. 

He approached one of the drawings. A lighthouse. 

“They clear the path,” she said as she watched him look at her drawing. “For the lost ones.” 

“Always romantic,” Tom chuckled.

"Me? May I remind you who climbed a bloody Ferris wheel in the carnival? ”She laughed. 

Tom sighed, he wouldn't be able to pull any stunt like that anymore. Tom walked over to the chair, and sat down, to catch his breath. 

“I was madly in love with you,” he reminded her. 

“You're using past tense I see,” she looked down. “I still… well, I still love you, Tom.” 

He didn't answer. 

“That's the worst thing you've heard, isn't it? That's possibly the worst thing I could've said, ”she closed her eyes, and sat across him. “If something goes wrong here and I have to sell out the place… because it'll be yet another thing that reminds me of you—“

“What?” 

“Oh, it's going to sound stupid and cliché, but… I've had to hide everything that reminded me of you, ”he said. "That's why ... I haven't gone to town, nor ... I don't know, if something goes wrong here, I'll have to sell it because it will be another reminder of our 'what if." 

"Pretty stupid of us to break up," Tom murmured. 

She laughed, throwing her head back. “You were the one who suggested it… No, let me rephrase that, you were the one who broke up with me.” 

“I was… I am very stupid,” he admitted.

"Ah, so for that you use present tense," she looked down, whispering to herself. 

Tom closed his eyes. “I didn't-” 

“No, hey, it's alright,” she dedicated him a smile, “I assume it's been hard.” 

And Tom didn't know why he didn't want to admit that he still loved her. He guessed it was the face she had made when she first saw him, scared, or disappointed. Or a combination of both, because he guessed she didn't expect to see him so destroyed, and he guessed that he wasn't the guy whom she had fallen in love with. And things would only get worse from there. 

Tom avoided her gaze. “You assume or you know?” 

“Both, I guess, I can tell,” she agreed as she looked at his hand. "You're not being your particular way of being annoying." 

Tom laughed. “I'm sorry, now, I'm a different kind of annoying.” 

“Very annoying, Tommy.” 

He cleared his throat. "Well, and ... How are you doing with Ken?" 

"Ken?" 

"Marcus, sorry, he’s so perfect." 

She rolled her eyes. “I'm not dating him.” 

“Huh, alright.” 

“Not right now, at least,” she admitted. 

"Oh." 

"Went out for a few dates," she continued. “Really boring, you know.” 

Tom cleared his throat. "Right." 

"Have you ... seen anyone?" 

Tom scoffed. “I don't exactly think I'm datable right now.” 

She watched him. "You never were," she teased. “You were a walking cliché only willing to break my heart,” she reminded him. "Yet." 

Tom smiled. “No, but…” 

“You're still a work of art, Tommy.” And she meant it. They looked into each others eyes but before he could say anything, she looked away. “So… Uh, this is an anti-date, remember? I… ordered some burgers. ”

Tom smiled, slightly. 

“So, what's it gonna be this summer?” She asked him. “Another hoax? Friendship? What cliché- ” 

“ Y/N. ” 

She chuckled. "C'mon, I'm just trynna ..." 

Tom smiled. “I know.” He looked around. “So how did you buy this place?” 

She cleared her throat. "Sold the Aston Martin." 

His eyes widened. “What?” 

“Well, it's… kind of pawned,” she admitted. “I… sold it to Jared and he promised to sell it back, eventually.” 

Tom smiled. "Oh, alright," He looked down. “So, your gallery, huh? When are you going to…” 

“Open it? ”She laughed. “I would love to know, too, I only have a few… Paintings but I haven't… Really.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “What?” 

“Well, I told you, I've had to hide everything that reminded me of you and well… The paintings I had--” She cleared her throat. “Well, they kind of all revolve around last summer.” 

He stood up and scooted his chair beside her. 

"Everything comes back to last summer," he admitted. 

She looked at him. “You know, I'm not asking for much,” she started. “I just… I don't need you to say you love me back,” she said. “I just… Let me love you, you know?” 

Tom reached out for her hand and intertwined their fingers. 

"Love," He whispered. 

She closed her eyes. "No, no, don't you call me love if ... If ..." She gulped. “I ... Look, I just want to love you, alright? Let me be around but if you're not going to ... To let me in, don't- ”

And he kissed her. Because he had missed her lips this whole year, and he knew that he needed her to be around. Because one love shouldn't last only a summer. A love like theirs should last a lifetime. And though he didn't have any strength left he managed to mould their lips together, creating a sunset. And it tasted just like the end of June, and he didn't want to stop. 

"I love you, too," he whispered against her lips. 

She sighed and smiled, resting her forehead against his. “That's the worst prelude to a kiss I've ever had.” 

He laughed. “Why?” 

“Really? You're asking why? Thomas! ”She rolled her eyes. “I thought you didn't — you didn't like me anymore.” 

“I never liked you,” he joked. "I just loved you." 

She pushed him away, jokingly. “You are such a complicated mess.” 

He leaned against the table. “I've become more of a mess while we were apart.” 

“I've been around,” she confessed. “I haven't exactly been… absent.” Tom knew that. “Sometimes I was with your mom, I went and talked to her in the hospital, I wanted… I wanted to know that you were fine.” 

Tom kept listening to her. 

"And last week..." she closed her eyes. “Sorry to do this about me, but I went to see you because… because we all believed we would lose you, and I thought… what would I do without you? I couldn't be away any longer. ” 

“ I've been drowning without you, Y/N, ”Tom said. “I've been… feeling blue.” 

“That's my thing, silly,” she chuckled but kissed him again. “I'm here to save you, now.” 

“But now I feel calm,” he continued. 

Tom hugged her. 

“Soon you'll get better, Tom. You're healing. ” 

Tom smiled. Although he didn't know if it was true, he believed her. And maybe it was a way to fool himself, like last summer, play pretend. He took her in his arms and walked to the centre of the room. And so without music, they started dancing. There were many reasons why Tom shouldn't have gone, but he decided to dance with her. Because they had run out of things they could say, and Tom fell again to her. 

She gently began to whisper the lyrics of that song they both loved, Somewhere Over the Rainbow. They merged together, and their shadow did not let the incandescent candlelight see the street from the small window. 

The blue moon and the golden sun had come together to form an eclipse. And it was beautiful, and although it was dark, they glowed. 

They were the necessary antidote to make everything stop being blurry. And at that moment, Tom didn't feel it was just medicine. 

And it was a decision. Because that's love, deciding to be together, in addition, Tom had made a promise that he would love her until her last breath. And he wouldn't break it. Because despite having little hope, there was a little light. It was like a lighthouse in the distance. And they would be together, because one summer is not enough. Because whenever they were together, no matter how dark, how agitated the sea was or how dense the storm was, everything became… clear.

Even if time ran out. 

series masterlist playlist (updated!) previous chapter epliogue

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