#she is a massive part of the reason Shannon left the first time

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Eddie diaz dealing with his mommy issues arc in season 8 is feeling realer to me than ever right now

[stemmmm]

i got back from a week long trip so now i've had plenty of time to ruminate on things and im finally ready to see what the fuck this guy has been trying to cook

episode 7 post

ep1 ep2 ep3 ep4 ep5+6

i think i saw a drawing of this guy earlier today except he had boobs

so lion's pretty obviously supposed to be the baby from 19 years ago, right.

ay ay aY AY AY

oh bah, the way it started out as just the last word in caps for a couple lines made me think dlanor was disguised as shannon or something but nah shes just like a robot or possessed for something.

i feel like ive been told explicitly 15 times that beato was the original beatrice's daughter who kinzo believed was her reincarnated, as if this is the first time im being given this information

damn bro you look hideous

alright so we're positing that original beatrice was enough of a fascist that she stuck to mussolini even after the rest of the country gave up? ok.

alright alright alright we're talking about whether the axis were cowards based on whether or not they surrendered and how alright.

REALLY FUNNY FOR THE V/O TO STILL BE FULLY JAPANESE WHEN HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE SPEAKING ENGLISH. OH BUT "I CANNOT SPEAK ENGLISH" IS?

interesting that this beatrice is using the baby beato voice. I've been trying to get the logic of it, and the best I can figure is that its just... to differentiate? differentiate WHAT exactly, whether its between human beatrices or just the humans and the witch im not sure yet. but I miss her other voice :( the flashback we got of her earlier that I didn't mention also used this voice even though im fairly certain the original version didn't.

i get that its for plot contrivances because beatrice had to get here somehow but WHY on EARTH would someone bring their daughter on an armed military vessel in the middle of a massive war. also because i touched on it earlier i'd like to clarify, i get that the participants in war are not necessarily people who agree with any of it. and even then, your circumstances of birth and pressure from your family will put you in situations out of your control (given, thats what this whole thing has Been About). idk i dont want it to come across as i don't get what's going on or like im an idiot or something. i may also be a bit defensive because i haven't really enjoyed the reading process terribly much in a while and didn't appreciate some of the feedback i've gotten in regards to "just keep reading, you'll like it, youll understand" because i dont think its properly come across that i think i Do understand, im just squicked the fuck out by a lot of things in part 6 and so far haven't seen anything that would allegedly turn my opinion around that much. but there's still a lot left in this to go. im just. bored honestly.

REALLY funny how much "bice" comes off sounding like bitch. all my friends at home call me bitch

oh my god also hilarious. the golds in the submarine isnt it.

EVEN IF ITS A TOP SECRET BASE WHY THE FUCK DONT YOU HAVE A DOCTOR?

anybody else have to stop and hold their head for a minute every time wildly specific gun specs are listed for no reason whatsoever

anyways this fight over the gold is fun, i figured something was gonna have to happen that got everyone else off that island and left the gold, so this makes as much sense as anything. and feeling the drive to live despite it all after seeing genuine bloodshed for the first time is a little overdone but just fine.

*curb your enthusiasm theme starts playing* well at least he insisted on taking her to a doctor

ohhhhh we're confirming beato is really and for true kinzo's biological daughter *head in handssss*

PLEASE STOP PINCHING THIS MAN'S ASS!!!

oh my god, first acknowledgement that battler isn't here. i kinda figured since he's always been kinzo's mirror of sorts, he wasn't gonna be here because kinzo was alive. like there's no reason for that to be the case, but to me the logic felt sound. battler and kinzo haven't been in the same place at the same time, at least not in 1986. and it seems that will continue to be the case !!

STOP PINCHING EVERYONES ASSES

lion sucks, actually. wretched personality.

i was holding back on making a joke about how maria talks about beato the way christian billboards exclusively go on about how there's "evidence god exists" or whatever, but now she's reciting the bible word for word so i dont know what to do with my point but i have to share it now. i do like that her point seems to be that because maria doesn't have a father, she is jesus. good for you girl.

BEATOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. and with the voice! ok so definitely that's the witch's voice.

alright this whole scenario can be argued as maria having an imaginary friend about it but if that piece of candy that beato told her to keep as a souvenir and not eat is still in maria's bag, magic is fucking Real.

also beato telling maria to practice basic hygene as her witch traini-- *has a jimmy neutron style brain blast and remembers the 1 (one) shinto shrine i've visited* OH, NO THIS IS A SHINTO THING. OK HELL YEAH. more of beato the "western" witch using japanese magics. i see i see i see.

fellas i may just like witch beato

[bookwyrminspiration]

re: your tags on a recent answer sayingabout reading stellarlune that stellarlune is only your second hated bc legacy is worse

i haven't read legacy in a hot minute so *chinhands* wanna tell me more?

i don't remember anything important from it except the whole Alvar thing (which, honestly, you're telling me the Neverseen had a method to completely wipe a guy's brain only to perfectly restore it with a certain trigger, and nobody talked about it again??) And I somewhat remember the trolls? great-aunt Luzia Vacker put a troll farm on her property for some reason i don't remember, then for some reason moved away from it and left it on the property out of her control? Wack

oh and i do remember being wildly annoyed by the ending, where sophie spends like twelve books up to this point vocally refuting the matchmaking system and not wanting to do it, but then she turns around and does it after all?? (and okay, i can admit that she probably did it bc she really loves fitz and like, if he'll only accept her if the matchmakers allowed it, then perhaps through the power of love it'll work out for her? but it doesn't, so she and fitz have to make hard decisions about their lives.) So yeah actually give me your matchmaking/legacy ending thoughts too!

I'd love to! However, you did just describe the plot of Flashback, not Legacy, so I'll try to cover both of them briefly

Flashback I'm mostly neutral on--I do enjoy the sophitz before Shannon started their forced crash (in Legacy, part of the reason I dislike it), and exploring Tam's potential with shadowflux is lovely since I love him. Few clarifications: Luzia made a secret alliance with the trolls to hide their hive, since it's their biggest vulnerability; she moved away because she needed more space. Apparently during that time, Luzia helped with experiments on them--but the hive left there was closed on their side, so Luzia wasn't part of the most recent batch; my guess is she thought it was inactive and abandoned, otherwise she wouldn't let the new Vackers live there

But yes, I was incredibly underwhelmed by its ending. Coming out of books where the cliffhanger is her entire family's been kidnapped, Alvar's lost his memories, her being ineligible for a pairing system I don't care about as the final reveal is like...ok. and? but, I do acknowledge this is entirely biased by my aromanticism and relationship anarchy. I simply don't give a shit. sophie, however, does. so I understand why from her pov that's a massive bombshell, and very stressful. i'm just not the audience for that reveal

unfortunately for me, that ending sets up a major part of the next book, which is why Legacy is my least favorite. I want to be very upfront and say my least favorite. this is my ranking based on my personal interests and enjoyment, it's absolutely fine if you (general) like Legacy. this is incredibly biased and opinionated

OKAY, so. I simply cannot get myself to care about Sophie's relationship woes, and they're not even written true to the characters! That thing I said about a forced crash? It's like as soon as they got together, Shannon decided the loss of hidden crush drama was too much, and she immediately sabotaged them to make up for it. This post gives a good example, adding a fake time crunch to make it seem more important and blaming Fitz. And the thing about Fitz being like "you wouldn't want to not find your parents, right?" when one of the first trust exercises they did together she told him directly she didn't want to because she thought she'd hate them. And they didn't brush past it! They talked about it a little! But of course now he's conveniently forgotten

If it was compelling, I could accept their demise. But it's not! It feels like drama for drama's sake, and it's just frustrating to read. With the seven books we spent building up to them, imploding everything about them in one book without any pay off is like...why. Just why. and it comprises SO MUCH of the story! Sophie's always thinking about it, prioritizing it, worrying about it, and I! am not here for that. Which is entirely a personal preference thing. i've been in a qpr for years, relationship anarchy is my normal, and it's just so...exhausting? reading her thoughts about how her life is going to be ruined and everyone's going to hate her. first of all, that's clearly an overreaction and I'm not believing this tension for a second. second, boo fucking hoo. you're atypical. join the club and stop moaning about how it sucks to be us. she's on a learning/acceptance curve, I know, but that doesn't make it fun to hear that kind of rhetoric--especially since I'm fairly certain Shannon wrote this without that in mind at all

I am aware I'm being mean to Sophie. I can logically understand all her beliefs and actions, and I know they're suited to her, her background, her values, and where she is in life right now. on a technical level, I get it. that doesn't mean emotionally I enjoy it, even if there's a reason to it all. it's simply a part of the story I, as an aromantic person, dislike. and that is my experience and opinion, I am in no way speaking for others.

so to summarize: I hate how the characters were handles and how sophie thinks of matchmaking in Legacy, and those things were a significant portion of the book, so I don't like it in general. personally. my very biased and emotionally driven opinion :)

[meetmymouth]

prompt 23 would be so cute :)

hope you enjoy!!!! pls don't forget to reblog if you read and enjoyed it :-) ps i haven't proofread this so if you spot any weird mistakes... don't! will edit later x

#23 "Dance with me"

You sigh into your drink before taking another sip, eyes still darting from as you search for him. You make eye contact and as soon as you get that blinding smile of his, your eyes fall to his body, his outfit, and you can't help but admire the tattoos peeking out from where he got one hand in his pocket.

Men are surrounding him, loud cackles and hollers going around as they throw their hands in the air while they presumably talk about something interesting and exciting. Each with a fancy drink in hand, the circle Harry's part of at the minute seems cold and unfamiliar to you. Thus, you find yourself turning away from Harry, finding Shannon and Brian in deep conversation. As soon as Shannon feels your gaze on them, she looks up at you with a smile, and squeezes your thigh, including you in their conversation.

It was hard, acting like you didn't know him or more like– you didn't know him. Details from his tea preference to the pain killers he used when his back hurt, how his lips looked so plump and big upon waking up, or the freckle on his armpit, or the sounds he made in bed, his favourite position, how he liked to be kissed and held.

Harry was newly single. You always said you met him in the right time, four months ago, when he crashed into your car on Oxford Street, leaving a massive dent on your car. As you spent time with him, you realised the dent he left on your car was blossoming somewhere deep inside you, and you thought he did such brilliant job filling said dent with him, his time, his kisses and touches.

You liked him. Perhaps, way more than he liked you.

He wanted you to keep you under the wraps. He said he didn't want people to scrutinise you both, and how he wanted to take things slow, do everything you both wanted to do and have fun together which wasn't the case–according to him–for his previous relationship. So you kept it secret.

"Look at Gigi, trying to chat Harry up again," Shannon mutters from beside you, drink half-empty as she looks Gigi up and down.

See, it was also not fun working with your secret boyfriend. Was he really a boyfriend?

"Whatever. This is so boring. It's just men boosting about their promotions and trying to flirt with women because apparently it's different when they're drunk and outside of work."

Brian lets out a snort, and you cringe, sending him a shy smile. "Soz, Bri. I know they're your mates."

"No worries. They are a crazy bunch, aren't they? I'll go get another drink," he stands up, and takes Shannon's now-empty drink from her hands. He turns to you, "want another drink?"

"No, I'm good, thanks."

"All right. See ya in a bit, ladies."

You both watch the brunette walk away, passing Harry and his crew but not before he gives Harry's shoulder a squeeze while you watch. Harry perks up at the touch, then turns his face to you once again, a private smile being sent your way though you can't help but look down at your drink, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach.

The night starts to die down and people begin leaving, leaving behind a couple of drunk people and either their partners or people who seem to be holding onto the night for their dear lives for some ridiculous reason.

You're by the bar, sipping yet another Margarita as Harry approaches you, his smile polite and one he gives to nearly everyone at work.

"Hey, you," he says, fingers running through his messy hair as he places his drink on the counter. "You good?"

"Yeah. Shannon's puking her guts out in the toilets so I'm just waiting for her."

Harry purses his lips. "Good to know... you don't want to be holding her hair back?" He smirks, and places his hand close to yours where it's holding the glass from the stem. "You look beautiful."

Something ignites inside you and you suddenly feel angry.

"Thanks, I'm surprised you even looked at me tonight."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," you shrug, and take another sip of your drink. It's warm now. "Nothing at all."

He leans closer to you. "What's going on? Did I do something?"

"Hah. That's kinda the point. You didn't do anything."

With brows furrowed, he comes closer to you. "Sounds like you've something to say. Just say it."

"I just did. I'm sick of this. Sick of being a secret," you gulp when he tilts his head. "Sick of watching people flirt with you from afar... I'm just fucking done. Are you like embarrassed of me?"

"Baby, what? What brought this on?"

You let out a bitter chuckle, and look behind him to see if Shannon's anywhere to be found. She's not.

"I'm not eighteen, Harry. I don't like this– this whole secret relationship thing. I want to be able to hug my boyfriend in public, hell– even talk to him instead of watching him from afar! This is not high school. I'm done playing this hiding game. You either have me, or you don't."

Harry clears his throat, and brings his hand to your thigh, squeezing briefly before he travels it all the way up to your neck. He rests his warm fingertips on the side of your neck, thumb stroking your damp neck before he leans in and presses his forehead to yours.

For the first time, neither of you look around to see if anyone's watching. Instead, you find yourself extremely overwhelmed as you close your eyes, and listen to his breathing.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, lips almost brushing together when he speaks. "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking stupid, I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

You open your eyes, though his gaze is on your lips, which makes your heart beat a little bit faster than it already was a minute before.

"I just want you, Harry," you say with a shake of your head. "I want you."

"I want you too. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry sweetheart," he pulls away, and grabs your hand.

You feel yourself sober up at the touch. "What are you doing?"

"Dance with me."

He helps you off the barstool, though you can't help but frown at the request.

"You're crazy, I'm not dancing with you, here," you squeeze his hand, hoping he would give up, but he answers with a smirk as he shakes his head.

"Come on."

"I'm not doing the whole silent dance thing. Where the girl goes 'there's no music playing' as the guy gives her a cringe smile–"

He places one hand on her waist as the other stays in hers, hips already starting to sway. "–Have I ever told you how much you ramble when nervous?"

"I can't believe you."

"I like you," he whispers into your neck as he keeps swaying you slowly, and you can't help but close your eyes and tilt your head a little so he has more space to work with. "I like you so much, it's terrifying," he mumbles this time, words muffled. "I'm sorry I was an idiot. I hope you can forgive me."

"Yeah, well... if you keep kissing my neck like that..."

Someone clears their throat behind you, and you both pause the swaying for a second before Harry lets out a chuckle, and hides his face into your neck. Though, he still turns you guys around to face the intruder, and it's Shannon. Of course it is. With her brown curls messy and face looking incredibly dull, she looks like she's just seen a ghost.

"Hey," Harry looks up at her, hand still in yours. "You feeling any better?"

[luminescencefics]

fade in, fade out - part four

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***

The Catalyst

December 2009

During her fourth and final year at Townbridge, Nora is hardened. She spent her summer reviewing her college applications in between shifts at the beach, picking through each individual essay and making sure her grades were the highest they could be.

Nora was sick of small towns. Newport would always be home, but with growing up comes the all-encompassing need to find a new home somewhere else—which was why Nora was applying for schools in New York City. A place where she can start over without the stinging burn of high school rumors following her every step.

Luckily, Nora still had Lydia and Margot and a few other girls on the swim team, and that was all she really needed at the start of her final year. She didn’t even look at Harry and his friends in the hallways, and whenever they would snicker behind her back or approach her if they were feeling bold, Nora would just spin on her heel and completely ignore them, similar to the way they treated her at the beginning of her first year. And when she would share a classroom with Harry for their AP classes, she would make sure to sit in the back corner of the room where she couldn’t feel his lingering gaze on her frame.

On her eighteenth birthday, Lydia and a few girls took Nora out to dinner at Margot’s family’s restaurant on the water in East Lyme. They paid for her meal and took pictures out on the docks by the ocean and it was the happiest Nora had felt all year at Townbridge.

Nora was riding that high all the way up until Christmas break where she was actually excited to go home and spend the Holidays with her mother. But just like most things in her life, Nora’s high came crashing down when her mother informed her that she couldn’t come home for break, leaving her to spend her ten-day vacation away from school completely alone in the empty halls of Townbridge.

“I’m so sorry, Nora. Mrs. Clemonte is really sick and Warren is already on his way to Aspen with Willy. I can’t just leave her alone! Especially during Christmastime. Please don’t hate me,” her mother grievously said through the speaker of Nora’s brand new LG Rumor cell phone.

“I could never hate you, mom,” Nora replied honestly, curled up in her comforter on her twin bed on the eve before her mother was meant to pick her up from school.

“You’ll be okay though, right? Other students will be staying on campus with you?” Nora could sense her mother’s worry from over one hundred miles away, and before Shannon could hear her daughter sniffling through the phone, Nora took a deep breath and convinced her that she’ll be fine—even if she wasn’t completely sure of it herself.

In all honesty, Nora wasn’t even certain if any students stayed on campus during break, considering her classmates usually booked trips to Aspen or Vail or the fucking Swiss Alps for all she knows. So after confirming with her guidance counselor that the facilities will be open and she’ll be safe to walk around the practically barren campus, Nora’s shocked that the first person she runs into is none other than Harry Styles.

Nora had to blink a few times in the entryway of the dining hall to make sure that the figure hunched over the wooden table sipping a porcelain cup of tea and shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth was actually him. But when she squints and takes into account his discernible curly locks, his signature black trench coat, and his cotton grey soccer sweatshirt with his last name embroidered on the front layered underneath—there’s no denying that it’s him.

She looks around and notices that there are a few other students scattered about, eating their breakfast wearing thick sweatshirts and conversing amongst themselves. Before she can be detected, Nora buries her chin in her thick knitted scarf and walks around the edges of the room towards the kitchen to grab her own helping of eggs and pancakes.

Nora’s gotten quite good at keeping a low profile, so when she finds an empty seat in the corner of the room, completely far away from Harry’s slumped figure, she lets herself breathe for the first time. She unwraps her maroon scarf and unbuttons her navy parka before digging into her breakfast, flipping through her battered copy of The Princess Bride. Every year, Nora rereads her favorite books that were turned into films, and she figured now was as good a time as any to pick up where she left off.

Halfway through her breakfast, Nora realizes a moment too late that she picked the seat that’s closest to the tea and coffee station when she hears her name gruffly fall past Harry’s lips as he stands over her, a completely shocked look on his face.

“Nora?” Harry repeats after a minute has passed with the two of them just staring at each other, wondering what in the hell the other is doing spending their winter break at school all alone.

“Hi,” Nora says awkwardly, avoiding Harry’s gaze and choosing instead to look at the rolled-up paperback sticking out of his jacket pocket. She can’t quite make out the title of the book from her position, but the light blue coloring of the title page is familiar to her for some odd reason.

“What are you…” His words fall from his mouth without any clear purpose. She realizes then and there that the last words she spoke to him were a broken “fuck you” one year ago in Dr. Forrester’s AP Chem lab, and that thought is enough to cause her to stand up abruptly from the wooden bench, grabbing her tray in one hand and her parka in the other, trying her hardest to get out from under Harry’s intense gaze.

“Wait, Nora!” Harry calls after her as she scrambles towards the trash bin to clear her half-eaten plate. She ignores him, the need to get away from him much stronger than her urge to stick around and hear what he has to say to her. And before she knows it, she’s running through the snowy campus with her parka barely buttoned, recognizing a moment too late that she left her maroon scarf on the table in the dining hall in her mad sprint to the exit.

For two days, Nora skips out on breakfast—too terrified to run into Harry again. She eats the rest of her meals by the old fireplace in Millikan Library at odd times in the day, growing far too comfortable with the eerie solitude floating through the towering ceilings.

Most of her afternoons spent in Millikan are quite peaceful, considering the foot traffic is practically nonexistent save for the two librarians working the research desk and the small handful of students searching through the fiction aisle for a new book to read to keep them preoccupied during the break. Her spot near the fireplace is hidden in plain sight, somehow giving her the perfect view of the lower floor of the library while staying comfortably concealed from wandering eyes.

Luck isn’t on her side, though, and while she’s finishing up the last quarter of The Princess Bride, her focus is broken when a familiar maroon scarf drops in the middle of her lap, obstructing Nora’s spot on the page.

When she looks up she sees Harry, dressed in familiar black jeans and a simple white t-shirt underneath his trench coat. Snowflakes dust the tips of his curly hair, and when Nora squints she can make out the purple bags underneath his dull green eyes.

“You left that in the dining hall,” he says slowly, sitting down in the chair across from the matching one Nora is currently curled up in.

“Uh, thanks,” she mutters, scrunching the thick material up and shoving it into her backpack resting on the floor below her. A crinkled Pop-Tart wrapper comes fluttering out of her bag as she attempts to zip it up, and Harry notices it instantly.

“Have you been living off of those instead of eating real food?” he asks. Nora can’t tell if he’s actually concerned or if he’s teasing her, because his eyes are still dull and his face is still blank and she can’t read Harry Styles for the life of her.

When she doesn’t answer, he states simply, “You’re avoiding me.”

“Can you blame me?” Nora responds quickly, looking at him with a layer of sadness hidden underneath her cerulean eyes.

“No, suppose I can’t.” He’s quiet for a few minutes, shifting his gaze towards the carpeted flooring below them. He looks as if he’s thinking very hard, and Nora wonders if he’s trying to figure out how to apologize to her. And when he’s still sitting there, a massive indent in the middle of his eyebrows while his lips pout downward in a frustrated frown, Nora thinks that a person like Harry has probably never had to apologize for anything in his entire life.

That realization is enough to keep her from running away from him again.

Harry lifts his eyes from the floor then, moving his gaze from Nora’s face to the book in her lap. She looks comfortable, wearing thick leggings and a woolen turtleneck, her blonde hair twisted into a low bun behind her neck, allowing her fringe to fall wildly against her forehead. He notices that her snow boots are on the floor, and her socked-clad feet are tucked underneath her thighs on the big chair she’s nestled in. For the first time in a long time—probably ever, if Harry really sits and thinks about it—he feels as if he’s looking at Nora Priestley for the first time, observing every freckle on her pale skin and every line and curve of her face. He’s not quite sure what that means entirely, but he’s sure that it has to mean something, in the grand scheme of things.

If she’s grown uncomfortable under his stare, she doesn’t show it, and Harry’s a bit grateful for that. Without really thinking about it, Harry reaches inside his jacket pocket, revealing his curled up copy of The Call of the Wild.

“D’ya mind if I sit here and read with you?” he asks quietly.

“No,” Nora says, her voice pitch wavering, “Not at all.”

What normally would take Nora less than an hour to read, ends up being much longer, because she had suddenly grown extremely distracted with Harry’s presence across from her. It first started when he took off his black trench coat, revealing a threadbare white t-shirt that didn’t seem appropriate with the falling snow outside and the frigid temperature in the air. But it wasn’t the thin material that captured Nora’s attention. Instead, it was the various etchings of black ink swirling up and down his left arm. She tries not to stare, but she honestly can’t help it, because the images of shaded roses and thick anchors and anatomically correct organs is causing her head to spin. Nora never thought that picture-perfect Harry Styles, with all his splendor and daddy’s money, would brand his skin with outrageous tattoos. But it somehow fits, and Nora finds that she suddenly wants to know what every picture means, and its significance to the boy adorning them.

She tries to bring her attention back to her book, but it’s practically no use, considering her eyes keep falling towards his, watching the way he reads the old book in his large hands. From this position with the big bay windows behind her and the light flooding through, Harry’s green eyes almost seem blue. She’s not sure if he’s aware that he’s doing it, but his fingers keep constantly picking at the dry skin on his lower lip, and if there’s nothing left to pick, his fingers just push and pull at the skin as he flips to the next page. Whenever he seems to read a particularly interesting passage, Harry’s brows furrow as he concentrates on the words bleeding off the page. And just when Nora thinks she’s gotten used to his presence, he would absentmindedly fidget in the seat, changing which leg would be crossed over the other, bringing his foot up to rest on the seat so that his elbow can lean on something new, or even moving his body completely, so that his legs fall over the arm of the chair and his head rests against the other.

And when Nora’s no longer distracted by Harry’s existence, she finds that her thoughts linger on the hundreds of questions floating through her brain. She wonders what he’s doing here, all alone during Christmas break when he spends his summers in the south of France or the Hamptons or some other luxurious location. She wonders why, of all places to read an old copy of The Call of the Wild, he chooses to sit near her, a girl he’s supposed to hate. And she especially wonders why she doesn’t mind his proximity to her body, considering he’s done nothing but hurt her since they first met.

Nora finds this entire afternoon to be distracting, and without even finishing the book (even though she acts like she has, because let’s be honest, Nora’s read The Princess Bride enough times to recite the last page), she closes it and throws it in her backpack, exchanging the paperback for her maroon scarf and beginning to lace-up her snow boots. Harry looks up from his book and notices her getting ready to leave, and without saying anything, Nora watches as he dog-ears his page and begins to pull his arms through the sleeves of his coat.

“I’m gonna head to the dining hall,” Nora explains, even though she’s not entirely sure she wants Harry to follow her. But when he stands up from the chair and slips his book into his pocket, Nora finds that she doesn’t really have a choice in the matter, other than to follow him down the stairs and out the front door into the snow.

Townbridge covered in a thick blanket of snow is quite a sight to behold, and momentarily, Nora can forget that Harry Styles is standing near her. Because the snow is falling lightly from the sky, dusting the tips of her nose and the apples of her cheeks, and she thinks it’s probably the calmest she’s felt in a very long time.

But then Harry’s elbow knocks against hers as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets, and suddenly all of the distracting thoughts and the endless questions from before come rushing from her brain to the tip of her tongue, and Nora finds that she can’t hold it in anymore.

“Why are you talking to me, Harry? Aren’t you supposed to hate me?” Nora’s words aren’t spiteful in the slightest. In fact, there’s barely any emotion behind them—just a statement that’s been at the forefront of her mind ever since he first approached her in the dining hall two days ago.

“I don’t hate you, Nora,” Harry chooses to say, looking down at her briefly as they continue the short walk to their destination.

“You certainly don’t like me,” Nora replies back, keeping her head down to avoid more snowflakes accumulating on her eyelashes.

“If this is about last year, I really am sorry. You were right to say those things to me in Dr. Forrester’s lab, I deserved it. All of it.” Nora waits a minute to speak, because she’s curious if Harry Styles will grovel in front of her, if he’ll beg for her forgiveness the way she’s dreamt about him doing for the past twelve months. He stays quiet, kicking his boot through a particularly thick segment of snow, and when Nora chances a look towards his face, she can see through his eyes that this conversation is torturing him. The dullness is tenfold, and his lips are in a very straight line and she’s never seen a jaw so clenched in her entire life. And even though he doesn’t say anything else, Nora accepts his apology, because although words have failed him (as they usually have in the past), his eyes give everything away.

The word pushover comes to mind, but Nora doesn’t think it’s a negative aspect of her personality. She was always taught to find the best in people, and if Harry’s apology consists of a handful of words and green eyes twisted in utter agony, she’ll take what she can get.

He holds the door open for her as they approach the dining hall and she gives him a quiet “thank you,” and Harry’s not sure if it’s for his chivalrous act or his bare-bones apology, but he takes it in stride. They grab chicken noodle soup and turkey sandwiches and steaming cups of tea and sit at the table near the large row of windows and for the first time, Nora doesn’t mind sitting across from him.

“So, why The Princess Bride?” Harry asks after a mouthful of soup, watching the way her mouth quirks at the mention of her favorite book.

“It’s one of my favorite movie adaptations. Movies are kind of my thing, I guess,” she explains, holding her warm cup of tea against her hands and she looks so damn cozy.

Harry nods, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“What about you?” Nora counters, watching the way his head tilts in confusion.

“What about me?” He echoes.

“Why The Call of the Wild?”

Harry grins, taking a long sip of his tea before replying, “I like classic literature. Guess it’s kind of my thing.”

Before Nora can say anything else, or tease him about copying her phrase, Miss Flaherty approaches their table with a bright grin. She’s one of the guidance counselors at Townbridge, an older woman who reminds everybody of their Nana. So when she places a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezes, Nora’s curiosity is piqued to the fullest.

“Harry! There you are, lovie. Will you be joining us tomorrow for the Toy Drive again? I’m sure everybody will be happy to see you.”

Sheepish has never been a word that Nora would think to associate with Harry Styles, but when his cheeks begin to flush and his eyes look anywhere but at Nora’s, she can tell that he’s nervous. And when she thinks back to Miss Flaherty’s question, more importantly, the word again, Nora’s wondering who on earth the boy sitting across from her truly is.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he tells her, smiling awkwardly.

“Amazing! How about you, Nora? Will you be joining us as well?” Nora’s suddenly aware of two sets of eyes on her, and when she glances at Harry and sees that his face is void of irritation, she nods her head and looks back towards Miss Flaherty.

“Of course! Count me in.”

Miss Flaherty smiles brightly and looks between the two of them happily. “Lovely! I’m sure Harry here will tell you all about it. We’ll see you tomorrow!”

After she walks away it’s quiet again, just the two of them slurping from their bowls of soups, trying to figure out how to address what just happened. Surprisingly, it’s Harry who speaks first.

“Uh, you don’t have to come if you don’t, er, want to.” He’s anxious and Nora wishes he would stop looking at the wooden table and would look at her, instead. Because she’s never given him a reason to be nervous around her, and the fact that he’s suddenly grown so small in front of her is all too confusing for her to understand.

“I don’t mind, really. Sounds cool, actually,” Nora admits, meaning every word.

Harry looks up at her then, observing her to see if there’s any teasing on her face. But when she looks back at him with nothing but a warm expression, Harry can tell that Nora actually means it, and he gives her a gentle smile in return.

Once they finish their lunch, they begin to walk back to their dorms. Nora lives on a different floor of Granary Hall and Harry lives in Quinby House, which is just across the small quarry outside of her building. It’s a comfortable silence, and Nora really wasn’t expecting him to walk her to the front door of her building. She’s not at all mad that he does, though, and when she turns towards him to say goodbye, he looks as if he’s trying to say something to her.

“I can drive you tomorrow to the Youth Center if you want. Easier than taking the bus,” Harry says, pushing his hands against the bottom of his pockets as he shuffles on the pavement in front of her, avoiding eye contact.

Nora nods, smiling softly before saying, “Sure, sounds good. Thanks, Harry.”

Before she can even mutter a goodbye, Harry’s already spinning on his boots towards Quinby House, and Nora’s left watching his figure disappear through the snow, thinking that out of the four years she’s known him, this is the most words they’ve ever spoken to one another.

Nora’s not even sure if she’s aware of it, but when she wakes up the next morning and chooses her nicest pair of jeans and applies a generous amount of mascara to her eyelashes, the idea of impressing Harry is barely even a thought in her mind. But there’s a reason for everything—and the fact that she brushed through her knotted hair and stuck her cherry-flavored lip balm into her pocket before rushing out the door, means that subconsciously she’s thinking about him.

They meet in the parking lot near his black Range Rover, and when he offers her a small smile and opens the door for her, she’s not quite sure what to think. He’s wearing his trench coat again with a grey thermal top underneath, and his curls are stuffed under a bright blue knitted beanie and he looks unbelievably warm. They don’t really talk much but they do listen to Big Star, and when “Thirteen” comes on and Nora starts to sing the words to herself, Harry snaps his head over in her direction with a wide-eyed look of astonishment.

“You listen to Big Star?” he asks, flitting his gaze between the road and Nora’s face.

She smiles, content that she’s shocked Harry, before adding, “Yeah, they’re one of my mom’s favorites.”

He nods, an impressed look on his face. “She’s got great taste.”

The rest of the ride is filled with more of Harry’s musical repertoire to which Nora sings along to the songs she knows. And if she listens close enough, she can hear the low tone of Harry’s singing voice, and she almost finds herself leaning closer towards him so that she can listen more clearly.

When they reach the Youth Center, Harry pops open his trunk and reveals two boxes filled with toys. Nora helps him and grabs the other, peeking inside and seeing wrapped presents of various sizes. They enter the room and greet Miss Flaherty, who immediately delegates Harry and his strong arms to deliver all of the presents underneath the tree, and Nora is sent to pass out homemade cookies and milk and read to the younger children.

It’s a blur of activity, and in between reading A Christmas Carol and making sure the younger children don’t choke on their cookies, Nora almost forgets to watch Harry. She mainly notices him in passing—a quick glimpse of a grey long-sleeved arm passing out presents, an electric blue beanie bouncing up and down in her periphery, a peek of brown suede boots running around behind her. It’s only once Nora’s begun reading the fourth stave, in which the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come visits Scrooge, when she notices denim-clad long legs sitting cross-legged in front of her, with a five-year-old blonde girl perched on his lap.

Harry sits there and listens to Nora finish reading the book, watching the way she acts out each character so that the kids in front of her are completely entranced. Her hair looks shinier today than when they were nestled in the library, and her blue eyes glisten whenever she hears a small child “ooh” and “aah” at the sentence she just read. And whenever her gaze falls on Harry’s, he can’t help but mirror the grin on her face.

When it ends, the little girl in his lap whispers into his ear, “Can we give Nora a cookie? She did a good job reading,” and Harry begins nodding excitedly.

“I think that’s a great idea, love. Up you go, let’s go pick out the prettiest sugar cookie on the table, yeah?” When she latches her small hand into his, Nora can’t help but watch in adoration as he lifts her up and brings her to eye level with the cookie tray, pointing at certain ones and waiting for her little nod of approval.

And when the pair approach her, the little girl holding up a paper plate with a snowman sugar cookie on it, Nora’s smile couldn’t be wider. “Is this for me?” Nora asks, bending at her knees so that she’s eye-to-eye with the small girl.

She nods, bashfully. “To say thank you. Harry said you should get the prettiest cookie.”

When Nora grabs the cookie, she looks up at Harry to find that he’s already looking down at her, shrugging his shoulders as if it were nothing. But to Nora, it was practically everything, and she spends the rest of the afternoon in a blissful state, a smile permanently gracing her features.

When they get back to campus with both their stomachs filled with cookies and eggnog and Christmas breads, the sun is just starting to set past the horizon. Harry pulls into his parking spot but waits a moment to shut off the ignition, noticing how Nora’s gaze is focused on the sky as it turns from a cornflower blue to a prepossessing tangerine hue. The snow reflects the sunset perfectly, and even though it’s one of the prettiest winter sunsets Harry’s seen in a long time, he can’t stop looking at the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

She finally turns to him just as the sky changes from violet to indigo, “I had fun today.”

Harry nods, agreeing instantly. “Yeah, it was a good day.”

“Do you do that often? Is that why you stay here during Christmas break?” Nora’s not quite sure if she’s overstepping, but when Harry’s jaw doesn’t clench and his eyes stay rooted on her own, she can tell that he’s not as nervous to tell her things anymore.

“I’ve been doing it the past two years. My dad’s been going on work trips during the Holidays, so I just stay here.” It’s a version of the truth that he feels most comfortable sharing, and he’s grateful that Nora doesn’t push him.

“I’m assuming your friends don’t know,” Nora offers quietly, watching as Harry chuckles to himself, the sound being anything but funny.

“Yeah, they think I’m in the Alps.” He looks sad all of a sudden, and Nora wishes she hadn’t said anything. Because the fact that Harry’s father chooses to work during Christmas, thus leaving him no choice but to stay at Townbridge by himself, is a shitty thing to do. But instead of moping, he chooses to donate presents to children so they can have some sort of a normal Christmas, even though he doesn’t get the same in return. That’s quite admirable.

If it were Nora, she would be bragging to her friends about the Toy Drive, begging them to join her and spread more awareness. But Harry—Harry can’t do that. Because his friends would never understand, and that realization strikes Nora hard in her chest.

Giving him one last glance, she asks him, “Have you ever seen The Princess Bride?”

He looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed and his nose scrunched up in confusion. The sudden change in conversation is a bit jolting, and when he tries to figure out her intention, she giggles uncomfortably before rambling. “I nicked the DVD player from our common room and set it up in my dorm. Nobody really noticed, so I’ve been watching movies on it all semester.” He’s still looking at her, but instead of confusion written across his face, his lips begin to form a smirk and Nora begins to squirm in her seat, much like the first time they met three years ago in the Great Hall. “So, uh, have you seen it?”

He shakes his head once, twice, the smirk growing into a smile.

“Would you like to?” Nora’s not quite sure why she’s nervous, or more importantly, why she’s even inviting him up to her room in the first place. Maybe she pities him in the slightest, or maybe, just maybe, she’s found that she actually enjoys his presence for once in her life.

“Sure,” he replies easily. Nora watches as he turns the key in his ignition to shut the car off, before hopping out and waiting for her by the trunk. They walk inside Granary Hall together, ride the elevator up to the eighth floor in silence, before entering the fourth door on the right.

The room is moderate, practically identical to the one he had last year with Will, but for some reason, it just screams Nora Priestley. He can already tell which side of the room is hers due to the mix-matched comforter set, the thick homemade quilt, the generous stack of books leaning precariously against the wooden desk, and the collection of polaroids stuck to the wall above her bed nestled in the corner. While she takes off her parka and snow boots, Harry leans towards the photographs, smiling to himself when he sees the happiness radiating off of each one.

His eyes seem glued to the images of Nora and who he assumes to be her mother, with their arms wrapped around each other and their long hair tangling in the ocean breeze. They seem to have done everything together—various images of the two of them on beaches and hiking trails and in the front seat of an old car. Harry’s never seen pure happiness before, and he wishes he could burn these images underneath his eyelids so that he never forgets what that feeling looks like.

“That’s my mom,” Nora says from behind him, almost startling him. He turns around with flushed cheeks, an apology at the tip of his tongue for so obviously intruding. But when he sees her face and notices that she’s not angry at all, he feels his shoulders relax.

“You guys seem to do everything together,” he says softly, choosing his words carefully as to not overstep. The topic of family has always been a difficult one for him in the past.

But for Nora Priestley, she seems to have no qualms about the topic, with the way she’s nodding easily with a nostalgic grin on her face. “Yeah, it’s always been that way. Just the two of us.”

Harry doesn’t say much else, but the look on his face says it all. Some mixture of sadness and jealousy, because even though Nora only has one parent, it’s more than the two he’s known his entire life.

Nora fills her arms with the pillows from her mattress and creates a makeshift pallet on the floor against the end of her bed. Harry takes the seat closest to the door and watches amusedly as she begins to microwave popcorn, opening the door with ten seconds to spare so that she can mix in a package of M&M’s.

When she joins him moments later, she flicks the light off and hits play on the remote. Just as the opening credits begin, she plops down next to him and holds the bowl out in his direction.

“What’s this?” Harry asks, completely serious. He’s looking at the bowl with fascination, wondering what sort of salty-sugary concoction Nora just created.

“It’s the ultimate cinema snack,” Nora explains, grabbing a handful of chocolatey kernels and dropping them into her mouth, munching quietly as Harry looks at her with a glimmer in his eye.

When he pauses for a second time, looking between the movie and the bowl in Nora’s outstretched hands, a sudden realization falls over her.

“Have you never done this before? Gone to the cinema and eaten enough sugary sweets to give yourself a guaranteed stomachache?” The opening scene has already begun but Nora’s too focused on the boy next to her who shakes his head solemnly and looks into the bowl, avoiding Nora’s gaze. She wonders what else the boy she thought had everything in the world has seemingly missed out on.

She turns back around to face the screen, unknowingly scooting closer towards Harry so that their sides are nearly centimeters apart. He can feel the heat of her body against his own, and just when he’s about to say something, Nora announces, “Well, Harry Styles, there’s a first time for everything. Eat up.”

And he does just that.  

The next morning at breakfast at their usual table, Harry finds that he’s nervous. And not in the way that makes him angry and quiet and want to run away, but the kind that usually is caused by a girl. His stomach feels fluttery and his palms are sweating and he’s consistently overthinking, and he’s not even sure why—because he’s Harry Styles, for fuck’s sake. And the girl in question is none other than Nora Priestley.

But she’s wearing a beanie with a bobble on top and her cheeks are pink from the cold and there’s still snow clinging to the ends of her hair and he can’t help but feel out of his element. And he shouldn’t, truly, because he’s been with enough girls to know that these feelings don’t exist and that he’s probably fallen ill or something, most likely caused by the cookies they ate all afternoon and the popcorn-M&M monstrosity he inhaled during their movie.

They haven’t really said much, and Harry finds that he doesn’t mind, because he’s not really used to comfortable silences. Alyssa talks enough for the both of them and Grace and Erin are practically human echoes. Carter always has something new to say and Will answers him because he knows Harry won’t, so the fact that he can sit in the dining hall with somebody and read from each other’s books and talk about things that actually matter—it’s refreshing.

“These buildings are quite eerie when they’re completely empty, don’t you think?” Nora asks after they’ve disposed of their dirty plates.

“I think it’s kind of cool. Have you not been anywhere else besides here and the library?” Harry asks, grabbing his scarf and knotting it around his neck.

When Nora shakes her head, Harry’s hand reaches out to grab her own and he’s dragging her through the exit before she can even button up her parka.

“Harry!” Nora squeals, nearly tripping over her own two feet when she tries to keep up with his obnoxiously long strides. His hand still has hers in a vice-like grip and he doesn’t seem to be letting go any time soon, and it’s only once they’ve appeared in front of the English building when Nora digs her heels into the ground, causing Harry to turn around abruptly.

“What?” he asks, noticing the way her head shakes aggressively and her eyes are blown out as if she were completely and utterly afraid.

“No way. We’re not going in there, are you crazy?! It’s the most haunted building on campus, and it’s empty. No fucking way, Harry,” Nora says, standing her ground.

But with one roll of his eyes and some gentle prodding falling from his lips, Nora finds that she’s somehow ended up inside the stairwell of the empty building, laying next to Harry on the marble staircase. It’s silent, save for the sounds of their hearts beating in their chests and their even breaths falling from their parted lips. The window over the second-floor landing paints a pretty light through the surface, and Nora finds that she’s oddly comfortable in this haunted building she’s so terrified of.

She wonders if it’s because of the boy lying next to her.

“Where are you off to next year?” Harry asks suddenly, his head tipped towards the ceiling four stories up.

“Columbia, hopefully,” Nora says, focusing on the rays of light creating illusions along the stone walls.

“New York City?” Harry asks, sounding quite impressed.

“Yeah. How about you?” she asks, twisting her fingers absentmindedly in her lap.

Harry’s quiet for a moment and when Nora looks over, noticing the way his eyes close slowly and his jaw clenches harshly, she wonders if he’s okay. “Oxford,” he finally spits out, his eyes blinking towards the ceiling once more. “As expected.”

Nora thinks of how to respond, but before she can string together a cohesive thought, Harry suddenly turns his neck so that he’s facing her. “I hate expectations. I wish they didn’t fucking exist, if I’m being honest. How are you supposed to grow if you’re forced to do certain things that are already mapped out for you?”

Nora looks back at him, unexpectedly understanding a good chunk of who Harry is. How even though he’s Townbridge’s Golden Boy, the perfect boy who seemingly can get whatever he wants, he’s missing one thing. Happiness. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

“What do you want to do when you get to Columbia? Like if you had the choice, and nobody was making it for you, and you didn’t have to worry about anything else—what would make you happy?” Harry asks, a shocking hint of vulnerability laced in between his words.

When Nora stops and thinks about it, the answer is literally right in front of her face. It’s what she’s always wanted to do, what she wishes she could do—but knows deep down that she can’t do. Because it’s not stable and it’s not why Nora went to Townbridge in the first place.

“Scriptwriting. I’d want to write screenplays and work on sets and help construct films that people like me can watch over and over again and never get tired of,” Nora whispers, thinking that if she says it quietly in the stairwell with just Harry around, she can still keep it locked up buried deep inside, away from people who would ridicule her over it.

“What would you do?” Nora asks before Harry can comment on her dream. She’s still not sure she’s ready for that.

His answer comes easier than hers. “I’d want to teach. English lit, preferably.”

Vulnerability is a scary thing. It’s even scarier when it’s shared between two people who, up until five days ago, were practically strangers. As they watch each other, heartbreakingly realizing that these dreams of theirs are just something they’re supposed to chase—a sudden sadness washes over them on the stairwell.

“I can’t do that, though,” Harry says, turning towards the ceiling just as his voice breaks. “Because it’s not in the plan.”

“What is the plan?” Nora asks curiously, eyes still locked on Harry’s side profile, watching the way his jaw moves as he speaks.

“Business Administration at Oxford. An internship at my dad’s company during my second year, and then a full-time job there once I graduate. Board of directors by twenty-five, until I fully take over by thirty. That’s it. That’s my life.” Harry’s voice has never sounded so broken before, and Nora feels her heart splinter a little for the boy lying beside her. Because right now, he’s eighteen, and he’s not supposed to be feeling this inordinate amount of pressure. But he is, and that thought makes Nora incredibly sad.

“And you?” Harry asks suddenly, looking towards her again.

“What about me?” Nora asks cautiously.

“What’s stopping you from becoming a scriptwriter?”

It’s a simple question if Nora really thinks about it. But things aren’t always that easy, and explaining to Harry how his anguish is not too far off from her own is quite a terrifying thought. Because they come from two separate worlds, and finding common ground in the fact that the things they truly yearn for are just not tangible is a sobering experience.

“My mom has higher expectations for me. I mean, I’m The Scholarship Girl. I’m not even supposed to be here. But my mom pushed for me and Mrs. Clemonte supported my application and before I even had a say in it, Townbridge was my plan,” Nora starts, feeling Harry’s eyes on her as she looks anywhere else but in the green of his. “My mom had me young, so she never got to go to college. She’s always telling me to do the things she couldn’t do, make better decisions than she made, be the best version of me I can be. And I do try, constantly. Because she works endlessly and she does everything she can to make sure I don’t end up like her, and that’s a lot of pressure for one person to take, because how can I repay her by studying performance arts and joining an industry that’s already extremely difficult to get into?” Nora’s eyes fall from the ceiling towards Harry, and there’s an unreadable expression on his face. “I can’t do that to her. It would break her heart.”

Harry nods like he understands, and for a brief moment, Nora thinks that he truly does. Because even though their situations are different and they come from two completely separate walks of life, they both have fallen victim to an excruciating amount of pressure.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, sounding more sincere than he ever has in his entire life.

Nora just shrugs, turning her face back towards the ceiling. “Not your fault.”

“I’m sorry for a lot of things, I guess,” Harry whispers, and Nora almost misses it over the sound of her own breathing. But when she feels his eyes warm her left cheek, she looks back at him and sees that he’s suddenly overridden with guilt.

“It’s okay, Harry—”

“—No, no. It’s really not.” He’s staring at her intently, and Nora’s suddenly found that she can’t look anywhere else. “What Carter did was wrong, and I didn’t do anything about it. And you lost all of your friends and he just went on the same as he always did, and the whole thing is just so fucked up.”

“I didn’t lose everybody,” Nora adds sheepishly, wishing this conversation would end. She doesn’t want to relive last year, she wants to forget its existence entirely.

“Still, it was wrong,” he frustratedly repeats. “You shouldn’t have just one friend at school.”

“It’s okay, though,” she says one last time, her voice urging him to understand her so that they can ultimately end this dreaded conversation. “I’d rather have one true friend than a bunch of fairweather ones.”

Harry nods and turns back towards the ceiling, and she knows that he isn’t going to say anything. Because this conversation is over, and what Nora said is unquestionably true. But he doesn’t want to face the harsh reality of his empty friendships, so instead, he stares at the ceiling, wondering how his life would have turned out if he fell into a different group instead of the one he has now.

Once Nora’s back starts to ache against the stone stairwell, she sits up and peers through the window on the second-story landing. The snow is falling down a bit harder now, coating the campus below in a thick, billowing white blanket. She thinks it’s beautiful. She thinks it’s far too inviting. So without thinking (something she’s been doing a lot of this week), she reaches for Harry’s hand and heaves him up, dragging him out of the English building and into the empty quad.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, confusion and amusement weaving together beautifully in his voice. Without answering, Nora reaches down and makes a snowball through her fingerless gloves, before hurling it straight towards Harry’s chest.

He looks at her with his jaw practically on the floor, faking his anger even though Nora can see right through it. She’s giggling loudly, almost hunched over at the shocked expression on his face. And before she can even comprehend it, Harry makes a snowball faster than her own and hits her right in the shoulder.

“Hey!” she calls back, wiping the leftover snow off her parka. Harry’s mischievous grin is clear as day through the thick snowfall, and when she mirrors it back, they’ve suddenly found themselves in a snow war.

Their laughter echoes through the quad and bounces off the stone buildings, and once Nora’s beanie is submerged in the snow and their jeans are soaked through and the only sound they can hear is their teeth chattering together, Harry calls a truce and drags her towards the direction of Quinby House. It’s closer than Granary Hall by at least five minutes, and when he holds the front door open for her, Nora enters without really thinking of the repercussions.

“Our floor’s empty and we have a private bathroom, so, er, if you want to shower first you’re more than welcome to. I’ve got warm clothes you can change into,” Harry offers quietly, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck. Nora can’t tell if the blush coating his cheeks is from the snow clinging to his body or something else entirely, but she doesn’t push it. Instead, she nods, following him to the last door on the left of the third floor, removing her snow boots in the hallway outside and beginning to walk towards the adjoining bathroom.

Nora closes the door without turning the lock, and immediately turns the shower on to its highest setting as she removes each soggy layer of clothing. She steps in just as the steam is clouding the small room, and when she notices the citrus body wash in the corner, she grabs that one instead of the Irish Spring bottle, knowing that it’s Harry’s.

Just as Harry’s pulled out a tight pair of joggers and his freshly washed soccer sweatshirt, he hears the distinct sound of the door creaking open. When he looks over his shoulder and finds that Nora isn’t peeking her head out from behind, he immediately gulps, knowing that the old door and the hot room caused the hinges to loosen.

As he approaches the door to close it securely, he can’t help but look up and notice Nora’s bare back through the mirror. Luckily he doesn’t see anything else, but still, he finds himself not being able to look away. Her milky skin is slightly red from the hot streams of the shower hitting her back and her blonde hair is sudsy and a part of him hopes that she picked his shampoo instead of Will’s. And when she moves her hair from the nape of her neck, Harry notices four black letters tattooed into her skin, and suddenly he closes the door before he can make out the blackletter script.

He sits on his bed across the room, his elbows resting on his thighs with his head in his hands as he tries his hardest to regulate his breathing. It’s a fucking back for Christ’s sake! Harry’s seen far more amongst other girls, and the fact that her hidden tattoo is causing his heart to beat erratically is giving him a migraine. Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley behind that door, and he’s Harry fucking Styles. And he needs to remember that before he embarrasses himself any further.

But when the door finally opens fully and she’s standing there in a tiny towel barely covering her legs and her wet hair framing her blushing face, Harry knows he’s fucked. Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley. And she’s standing there naked underneath terry-cloth and he doesn’t try to ignore the fact that his thumping heart and his staggered breathing are all because of her.

“So those, uh, clothes you were talking about…” Nora says awkwardly, staring at the carpeted flooring of his room instead of his face. Because she’s very clearly naked and very clearly uncomfortable, and when Harry points towards Will’s bed where the articles in question are resting, she barely mutters a thank you before the wooden door is shut again and she can finally breathe properly.

When they exchange places, Nora’s grateful that Harry has the decency to bring his change of clothing into the bathroom with him, because if she had to stare at his wet torso, she’s not quite sure she could bear it.

She snoops through his dorm room once she hears the water running, and finds that his side is practically barren. There are no pictures of his family, no personalized anecdotes to distinguish Harry’s side of the room from Willy’s, nothing except a collection of books in the open section underneath his nightstand. She reads through the titles, realizing that Harry does, in fact, have a thing for classic literature.

Just as she’s moved on to Willy’s desk, observing the stoic photograph of him and his parents that must have been taken recently, Harry emerges from the bathroom in comfy sweats and wet curly hair, and Nora looks away before she’s caught admiring his figure.

“What are you looking at?” Harry asks, dropping his wet clothes into his hamper before turning towards Nora’s position against Will’s desk.

When she holds up the frame, Harry looks between the picture and Nora’s face. As Harry studies her expression, noting the way her eyes are clouded with familiarity and a hint of sadness that lingers underneath, he can tell that she knows this family quite well.

So he asks, “You know Will, don’t you?”

“Knew would be the appropriate term,” Nora says quietly, placing the frame back where she found it before leaning her backside on his desk so that she can face Harry properly. “My mom was his nanny.”

Before Harry can comment, Nora quickly adds, “But please don’t tell him that. I don’t want him to think I’ve ruined his reputation or anything.”

“Why?” Harry asks, stepping towards her slowly. When she looks up at him with confusion, he continues, “Why would you let him lie to everybody?”

Nora just shrugs. “He obviously didn’t want anybody to know. But I know the truth, and Willy knows the truth, and he’s the one who has to live with that, not me.”

Harry looks at her from the middle of his room, thinking it’s quite remarkable that her brain works like that. Because Will had embarrassed her clear as day in front of all of his friends, and not only that, he lied, too. Harry thinks that if he hadn’t said those words, and if Alyssa and her friends hadn’t reacted that way, and if he just had a moment to talk to Nora before they had interrupted—maybe things would be completely different.

But Harry doesn’t like to think about what if’s. So instead, he grabs his laptop from his desk and powers it on, laying down on his twin bed in the spot closest to the wall, pulling up his movie library and patting the empty spot on his mattress.

When Nora lays down next to him, her back propped up on his headboard as her left side is flushed with Harry’s right, she asks, “Are we watching your favorite this time?”

Harry grins, shaking his head. “No, I’d rather watch another one of yours.”

Blushing, Nora grabs the computer from his lap and types in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, a classic that she’s sure Harry will enjoy. And when she hands his computer back to him, she tries to ignore the fact that Harry was watching her face instead of the screen.

“Have you seen this?” Nora asks, trying to break Harry out of whatever weird trance he fell into.

“Nope,” Harry admits, balancing his computer in the middle of their thighs so that they can both view the screen properly. Nora tries to ignore the fact that she had to move closer towards him to fill in the gap, but the redness flushing up and down her neck practically gives her away. “Why is it one of your favorites?”

His question is simple in hindsight, but it makes her heart bubble when she realizes that he’s actually interested in the little things about her that seem meaningless. “Well, it’s a classic, and I know that’s sort of your thing,” she says, smiling when she pulls a chuckle from his mouth. “And it’s one of my favorite examples of breaking the fourth wall in a screenplay.”

“What on earth is that?” Harry asks, clicking play once the movie has finished loading.

“It’s sort of like metafiction in literature. Basically, it’s a plot device that scriptwriter’s use when the main character speaks to the audience. Ferris does it, like, all the time.” When Nora realizes that she sounds extremely nerdy divulging scriptwriting plot devices and intricacies about film that nobody really cares about, she shuts her mouth, turning crimson.

Harry doesn’t say anything though, and she’s grateful for it. Because even if he thinks it’s weird and nerdy (which he doesn’t, of course, but he’d never tell her that), he turns his head towards the screen and tries to hide the smile on his face.

And when the opening monologue begins and Ferris is in the shower talking to the camera, Harry whispers into Nora’s ear and asks, “Is that it?” She tries to cover the shiver running through her skin at the feeling of Harry’s lips brushing against her earlobe, but Harry notices it, like he notices everything about her lately. So for good measure, when Ferris breaks the fourth wall again at Cameron’s house, Harry leans over and mumbles, “And this, yeah? This is it, too?”

Nora knows he’s teasing, so when she turns her face in his direction so that Harry can see her rolling her eyes in good humor, he tries to ignore the warmth on his shoulder from where her chin rests.

Around halfway through the movie, Nora finds that she’s suddenly grown tired. She sneaks a peek at Harry and notices that he’s captivated by the movie on the small screen, and she really doesn’t want to interrupt him. After her third stifled yawn, Nora can feel her eyes drooping, and without really thinking, her head falls against the fleshy part of Harry’s bicep. Harry doesn’t say anything, but he does flinch for the shortest of seconds, before looking at her and realizing that she looks far too content dozing off on his arm. So he keeps quiet, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest.

The next morning, Nora wakes up and finds that she’s not in her room. She also finds that her left cheek is smushed against comfy cotton material that keeps rising and falling steadily. And when she finally comes to, she finds that the comfy cotton material belongs to Harry, and the rising and falling belongs to his chest, and when she notices her right arm wrapped securely around his lower stomach just above the waistband of his joggers where a sliver of warm, tattooed skin lies, she freezes. Before Harry can wake up and go through the same motions she just did, Nora springs up, a stupid decision that results in Harry stirring abruptly.

He seems to have realized the compromising position they were just in, and before Nora can run out of the room in a panic, he mutters, “I’m sorry,” in his incredibly scratchy morning voice and Nora finds that it really doesn’t help matters.

Because Harry Styles in the morning is something special. He looks good in every lighting, if Nora is being brutally honest, but there’s something about his puffy face and swollen lips and crackling voice that makes her appreciate him a little bit more than she probably should in the early hours of the day.

“It’s, uh, my fault. I was the one who fell asleep,” Nora offers lamely, raking her fingers through her matted hair to try and alleviate the awkwardness in the room.

And when Harry mutters, “I didn’t mind” at the same time Nora says, “I should probably go,” they both freeze and look at each other timidly. Harry’s wondering why he doesn’t want her to leave and Nora’s wondering why she wants to wrap her body around his again, and it’s all too much for nine in the morning.

But he’s still looking at her, and she’s still looking at him, and somehow they’ve both landed on solid ground for the first time. Harry’s finding out that he quite likes the look of her burrowed in his soccer sweatshirt and Nora’s discovering that she’s never slept better than when she was lying next to him, and when he asks her if she wants him to save their usual table at the dining hall for breakfast, Nora nods, thinking it’s the greatest idea in the world.

An hour later, after Nora’s gone back to her room to change (begrudgingly) into her own clothes and freshen up, it’s almost second nature when she falls into the seat across from Harry with a steaming plate of waffles and fruit. He has her coffee ready for her just the way she likes it, a splash of cream with one sugar cube, and she can’t help but match the grin covering the lower half of his face.

Even though Nora had the best sleep of her life, and waking up next to Harry was something she wishes she could do over and over and over again—she feels guilty. Because Harry is with Alyssa and Alyssa isn’t here and the whole thing makes her head throb painfully.

So, regretfully, Nora apologizes for what feels like the hundredth time that day.

“Nora, you’ve nothing to be sorry for. Please stop apologizing, it’s driving me mad,” Harry jokes, stealing the syrup from her hands and pouring a generous amount over his stack of waffles.

“It’s just—Alyssa’s your girlfriend. And I know she doesn’t necessarily like me, but that still doesn’t make it right to share a bed with you,” Nora explains even though she knows it’s driving Harry crazy.

Harry nods, dropping his silverware against his plate so that his attention is focused solely on the girl across from him. “I know, but as I said earlier, I didn’t mind. If I didn’t want you to stay, I would have said something,” and before he resumes eating, he adds quietly, “It’s not like Alyssa’s really my girlfriend.”

“What do you mean?” Nora asks, noticing the way Harry exhales out of his mouth slowly.

“For all intents and purposes, I guess you could call her that. But it’s really only surface level, because if our parents didn’t summer together every year and force us to be together, it probably never would have happened in the first place. But it did, and we put on this show and everybody thinks we’re this happy little couple. And maybe we were, for a short while. But I haven’t really been the nicest boyfriend to her and she’s strayed on more than one occasion, and it’s all sort of scrambled,” Harry admits, staring at his tray to avoid Nora’s eyes. If he did look up, though, he would have noticed the sadness floating through her eyes and the frown swooping over her lips.

The rumors about Harry flirting with other girls and the occasional sneaky kiss in back corner’s of parties have been brought to Nora’s attention on multiple occasions. And even the ones last spring about Alyssa sneaking out of Carter’s dorm room trickled down to Nora’s group of friends, but she did her best to ignore them. Because she knows better than anyone how the rumor mill works, and even though Alyssa, Carter, and Harry did nothing to help Nora, she still couldn’t bring herself to stoop down to their level.

“Sounds like an incestuous mess to me,” Nora decides to say, trying to bring an air of lightness to the sudden uncomfortable topic of discussion.

It works, and Harry finds himself chuckling loudly across the table. “Yeah, it’s all about labels. Kind of a shitty thing to admit, but I’ve never really loved Alyssa. Can’t say I see that happening in the future, either.” He’s willingly giving Nora information that he hasn’t even told anybody before, and she’s not quite sure what to do with that revelation.

“That’s quite sad,” Nora says softly.

“Why’s that?” Harry asks, curious.

“I don’t know. Sounds like you’re just wasting your time, I guess,” Nora pauses and Harry can tell she’s trying to figure out how to phrase her next thought. “Maybe I’ve watched one too many movies, so ignore me if I’m wrong, but being with somebody isn’t supposed to feel like a chore. It should be fun. Exhilarating, even. What you have with Alyssa just sounds—exhausting.”

When Harry’s quiet for a few moments, Nora suddenly realizes that what she had just said was probably completely out of order. “Sorry if I’m overstepping, that was probably rude of me.”

Noticing Nora’s distress, Harry gives her a small smile and just shrugs his shoulders. “You’re not overstepping. You’re probably right, if I’m being honest. But at this point, there’s no use in switching things up.” There’s a brief pause in which Nora breathes out a sigh of relief, reaching towards her coffee and taking a generous sip. Before Harry realizes what he’s saying, he asks her quickly, “Have you ever had that feeling?”

“What feeling?” Nora asks.

Harry grins shyly. “Being with someone and having it be fun and exhilarating.”

Nora nods slowly, thinking about Connor. “I think so. For a little while, at least.”

“What happened?” Harry’s not sure if he’s the one who’s overstepping now. But when he notices Nora’s cheeks blush ever so subtly and her lips quirk up into sentimental half-smile, he suddenly feels an uncomfortable knot form in his stomach. It’s twisting and turning and he’s never had this feeling before—not when he found out Alyssa was sleeping with Carter, not when his parents decided to go to St. Tropez without him, not ever. But with Nora sitting across from him looking wistfully in the distance, Harry’s found that he’s practically consumed with jealousy, and he fucking hates it.

“He moved away, and I had to come back here for school,” Nora explains, breaking out of her daydream and looking back towards Harry. When she notices the unreadable expression on his face, she decides to change the subject. “So, what do you want to do today?”

Harry tries his hardest to forget about Nora’s mystery man for the rest of the day, but he can’t help it. The jealousy is like a seed planted in the depths of his stomach, and he feels it growing and growing inside of him until he’s practically turned green with envy. And he has no fucking idea why it’s bothering him so much.

Hours later, they’re back in Nora’s room for another movie night after a day filled with exchanging their favorite novels and talking about things Harry’s never even discussed with his own friends. Nora chooses Notting Hill, thinking that out of all of the movies in her favorites list, this one has got to be one that Harry’s seen before.

But when he shakes his head when she holds up the plastic DVD cover in his direction, Nora’s mouth is already on the floor and Harry can’t help but laugh at her shocked expression.

“How have you never seen this?! You’re British! You should be ashamed! I’m calling Gordon Brown and asking him to revoke your citizenship,” Nora exclaims, setting up the DVD player and inserting the disc inside the tray. She’s changed into leggings and chose Harry’s soccer sweatshirt over the worn-in Townbridge one she’s owned since freshman year, and Harry feels giddy with pride at the thought of it all.

“I already apologized for it! Give me a break, Priestley!” Harry calls back, amusement lacing his words.

Nora finds herself giggling in response, and once the title screen is displayed on the television, she peeks over her shoulder and finds that Harry is getting himself comfortable on her bed. He’s wearing track bottoms and a cream-colored henley, and when he claims the spot near the wall and burrows underneath the quilt her mother cross-stitched for her last Christmas, Nora can’t wipe the silly grin off her face.

“This movie makes me want to visit London,” Nora admits, pressing play on the remote and walking towards her bed. When Harry opens up the blanket for Nora to slide into, she does so easily, feeling the most comfortable she’s ever felt in her entire life.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, dropping the blanket underneath Nora’s chin and throwing an arm around her shoulder.

Nora surprisingly doesn’t flinch. Instead, she curls closer to his body, resting her chin on the planes of his chest and her hand just below. “Yeah.”

“I think you’d like it,” Harry whispers against the crown of her head just as the opening scene begins.

The first few scenes of the movie pass by in comfortable silence. But just after Hugh Grant meets Julia Roberts in his bookstore, Nora can practically feel Harry’s brain whizzing because he’s thinking too hard. And just when it starts to become distracting, Nora asks, “What’re you thinking about? I can hear your brain churning from here.”

He exhales out a laugh and admits truthfully, “I keep thinking about your exhilarating crush.”

Nora feels stunned all of a sudden, her body freezing against his own. “Why?” she somehow chokes out through her dry throat.

Nora can hear the gulp Harry takes from above. “I dunno. Suppose I’m very interested to know what kind of guy swept Nora Priestley off her feet.”

She sits up with her back to the television, completely ignoring the movie playing behind her. The quilt falls from her shoulders and pools around her waist, and she’s suddenly grateful for the cooler air of her dorm room whipping against her neck, because she’s grown increasingly warm. Harry slides his body up on the bed until his torso is flushed against the headboard, staring at Nora with those green eyes that for the first time, aren’t dull. Instead, they’re almost twinkling in the dim lighting of her room.

His gaze is focused solely on Nora—on the messy fringe falling against her forehead, the gentle slope of her nose, the plushness of her pink lips, the angular curve of her jawline. The way she looks buried in his sweatshirt with the sleeves falling past her fingertips causes his heart to beat loudly inside his chest, and the overwhelming urge to kiss her has never been more prominent before in his life.

“I think I’ve always thought about it,” Harry admits quietly, his eyes never falling from her own. Because if they did move, he would have missed the way her mouth parted slightly, a small inhale slipping down her throat. He would have missed the way her eyes widened almost comically, the blueness reminding him of the sky on a pleasing, clear day. And when he takes all of that into consideration, he comes to the conclusion that Nora Priestley is undoubtedly beautiful, and probably always has been. He’s always just been too stupid to realize it.

“You never said anything,” Nora whispers back, staring at Harry with the same ferocity. “You never say anything.”

Harry nods, “I know.” And when he inches his body closer to hers and notices that she doesn’t back away from him, he adds, “I’m saying it now. Am I too late?”

Nora watches the way Harry leans towards her, his body being held up by his hands that are anchored to the mattress in front of her knees. Even though the movie is still playing from the television behind her, she can’t hear anything except for the accelerated beating of her heart racking against her ribs and pounding against her chest.

He’s so close to her now, the tip of his nose brushing against her own so tactfully that Nora’s not even sure if it’s actually happening. At this proximity, Nora can see inside his eyes and she finds that they’re not as green as she once thought. Instead, they’re almost a turquoise color, with golden hues circling his pupil and when she looks closely, she can see her own face in the reflection. And suddenly, that’s the only answer she needs before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and crashing her lips against his own.

Even though Harry Styles is Nora’s third first kiss, it’s the best one she’s had yet. It’s slow at first, just the gentle pressure of two sets of lips pressing against the other’s. It’s hesitant, timid, nervous, until Harry wraps his arm around Nora’s back, pulling her closer towards him so that their fronts are completely flushed. After that, it’s intense, passionate, frenzied.

His teeth nip at her lower lip until she opens her mouth ever so slightly, allowing his tongue to slip through. Once Nora gets the message, she opens her mouth wider, angling her head to the side so that she can slip her own inside of his mouth, the two fleshy organs tangling together causing a reverberating hum to break from the back of Harry’s throat.

The sounds cause Nora to still, and when she breaks away and notices the dark hue in Harry’s eyes, the exasperated breaths causing his chest to rise and fall sporadically, the bright pinkness of his lips—it’s all Nora needs to push Harry back into his seated position against her headboard, crawling over on her knees until her legs are straddling his hips. She slinks both hands through his wild hair until they connect at the back of his head, and their lips connect for a second time.

This time, Nora’s not shy to let her teeth clink against Harry’s in a mad rush to gain dominance over their kiss. This time, Harry’s not reticent to let his hands roam the expanse of her back, slipping them underneath the bottom of his baggy sweatshirt so that his fingers can dance against her flushed skin without a barrier in between.

Nora’s hands fall from Harry’s hair to his neck, to the chain that rests against the middle of his chest that’s exposed through the unbuttoned part of his henley, all the way down his stomach until her fingers play with the hem of his shirt. When her nails lightly scratch against Harry’s lower stomach where Nora knows the tips of two tattooed ferns lie, he gets the hint and unlocks their lips, reaching his hands over her own and pulling his shirt up and over his head.

Nora sits back on Harry’s thighs, watching how Harry throws his crumpled shirt somewhere on the floor of her dorm room without care. His hair is mussed from a combination of Nora’s fingers and the quick way he removed his henley, and when Nora’s eyes ogle at the two identical swallows underneath his collarbones, the small definition of his chest, the butterfly permanently drawn in the middle of his stomach, to the small trail of hair below his belly button that disappears beneath the waistband of his track pants—she’s hot all over.

Her eyes lift back to Harry’s and find that he’s suddenly nervous. He’s blinking up at her with an indecipherable expression on his face, and when the hands that rest against her hips start to fall ever so softly, Nora grips the bottom of Harry’s sweatshirt and lifts it over her head, throwing it against the floor.

She’s sitting there, against his hips wearing a simple nude bra, and Harry feels his breath constricting in his throat at the sight of her. Her lips are swollen and her fringe is frizzy and when her teeth sink into her bottom lip and her cheeks begin to flush, Harry’s hands reach behind her neck to bring her down to his face. And just before their lips meet for the third time, he whispers, “You’re beautiful,” against her mouth, sealing it with his own so that she never forgets it.

Nora’s never done this before, but when Harry’s mouth falls to her neck and she accidentally grinds her hips into his own below in surprise, the groan that emits from his throat is practically feral. So, she does it again, her throat hitching when his teeth sink into the fleshy juncture of her shoulder and neck. One of his hands is tangled in her hair, and the other is resting on her hip. But when she grinds into him for the third time, he brings that hand up to the clasp of her bra, removing his lips from her neck and breathing against her mouth.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice sounding more strained than ever before. Nora finds that it’s unquestionably the hottest thing she’s ever heard, and when she brings her hands to rest on his searing chest, her nails scraping against his skin, the whine that falls from his lips might just be hotter.

“Yes,” Nora whispers back, holding her breath when his fingers easily undo the clasp, the straps sliding down her shoulders as the cups covering her breasts begin to fall. When she lowers her arms so that her elbows are no longer bent, the garment falls easily from her body and onto the mattress below.

Cautiously, she looks at Harry and finds that he’s looking into her eyes to make sure that she feels safe with him. The thought alone makes her nerves completely subside, and when she nods ever so slightly, Harry finally lets his eyes fall towards her chest. She watches him as he sits up, bringing his lips to the base of her throat as he places gentle kisses along the expanse of her neck, down to her sternum, until his lips are centimeters away from her breasts. When her fingers tangle into his curly hair, Harry peeks up at her briefly before placing his mouth around her right nipple, his hand softly massaging her left.

Nora’s head falls back and a moan tears through her throat, and it’s the first time that’s ever happened in her life. Harry stills, his lips moving slightly so that he can watch her, and it’s enough to make the bulge in his pants grow until it’s practically unbearable. His tongue continues to move down her body, kissing along the lines on her stomach until his hand moves to rub the fleshy part of Nora’s hips, hesitantly moving towards the front of her body. And when his right hand cups her legging-clad core, Nora’s hands halt in Harry’s hair, and he removes his lips from her body and looks at her.

“I don’t think I’m—” Nora pauses, her confident streak breaking. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t planning on having sex with you,” Harry says softly, bringing his hand up to take a piece of her blonde hair that’s fallen in front of her face and tucking it behind her ear. “We can do something else if you’d like. But the second you’re uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop. Okay?” He’s never been this patient with somebody before in his life, and somehow Nora can sense that. She’s incredibly grateful for Harry then, and once her breathing has regulated and she’s no longer anxious, she nods, pecking him softly on the lips.

Harry pecks her back once, twice, thrice until cupping his hand back against her front. He rubs her slowly then, and when Nora feels the stickiness from inside her underwear permeate through the thin material, she shudders against his body. His fingers curl into the waistband of her leggings, and after asking her for permission, she lifts her hips and her knees so that he can pull the black material halfway down her legs, leaving Nora in just her simple baby blue underwear.

Harry resumes his ministrations, causing Nora to wrap her arms around his neck, her elbows resting against his shoulders as her body quivers again. And when his fingertips sneak underneath the material, a long finger gently stroking her slit, Nora’s hands use Harry’s hair as an anchor as her forehead rests against his own as she emits a blissful sigh. Just before his finger slides in, he brings his lips against hers so that he can feel her moans hit the back of his throat.

It’s uncomfortable and awkward at first, and when her breath hitches in her throat and her lips break away from Harry’s, he pauses, looking at her with concern. “Do you want me to stop?”

Nora looks at him, her hand ruffling his hair tenderly as she shakes her head. Grinning, Harry brings his lips back to hers, resuming pumping his finger inside of her.

After a few strokes, Nora starts to feel her rigid body unraveling, and suddenly she’s matching Harry’s rhythm as she grinds down onto his finger. When his wet thumb starts to circle her swollen mound, another moan rips from her throat, causing their kisses to halt.

“I love that,” Harry whispers against her mouth, sucking her lower lip between his own and beginning to move his hand faster.

The stickiness is accruing inside her underwear and Nora can feel sweat brimming at the nape of her neck. She feels hot to the touch, and when Harry changes his thumb strokes from clockwise to counter-clockwise, a fluttering like no other vibrates through her lower stomach as she whines into his mouth.

“I think you’re close,” Harry says, bringing his hand that isn’t inside of her around her lower back to keep her steady. And when his finger curls and presses against a spongy spot inside of her, Nora feels the fluttering turn into a full-blown explosion, and suddenly her eyes close shut at the ferocity of it all.

Nora stills on top of him, feeling the stickiness begin to coat her inner thighs as a loud moan rips from her throat. Her hands move from Harry’s hair to his shoulder blades, and when she opens her eyes and realizes that her fingernails have carved crescent moons into the flesh, she immediately removes them.

The warmth has gone, and in its place, a numbing sort of calmness. Harry removes his hand from inside her underwear and when he looks up at her and sees her irises blown out and her cheeks pinkened and her lower lip indented by her front teeth, he grins smugly and kisses her softly.

“Alright?” he asks once her eyes have opened fully and she no longer is panting against his cheek.

Nora nods, a bit shy considering she just had her first orgasm and she’s not quite sure what to do next. She looks down and notices the bulge in Harry’s pants, and smiles at him unsurely. “If you tell me what to do, I can, er, help you out?”

Harry smirks, running a gentle hand through her hair and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, babe. Just, uh, give me a mo’. I’ll be right back,” he says softly, placing two hands on her hips and lifting her slowly so that she’s no longer straddling his waist.

When she pulls her leggings back on, the stickiness is far too uncomfortable between her thighs. Harry notices her wiggle on the mattress and chuckles to himself, finding it all too adorable. When he gets up from her bed, shifting his pants so that his erection is less painful, he turns towards Nora before crossing the hall into the communal bathrooms.

“Where do you keep your linens?” Harry asks from his position by her door. Confusedly, Nora points towards the wardrobe near her desk and he opens it slowly, grabbing a folded hand towel and passing it to her. She smiles softly, thanking him before watching him retreat into the hallway.

After Nora’s changed her underwear and put on a pair of sleep shorts, sliding Harry’s sweatshirt back over her body once her skin has cooled down, she gets back under the covers and turns her attention towards Notting Hill. Harry comes in a few minutes later, the front of his pants lacking a distinct bulge. He looks over and notices her lying comfortably in her bed, and when she moves her eyes from the screen to his figure standing in the doorway, a cute grin covers the lower half of her face.

“You coming to bed?” Nora asks, patting the spot on the mattress beside her. With a quick smile, Harry walks towards her, lifting his body over her own so that he can resume his position by the wall. And just as his arms are on either side of her body, his shirt still somewhere on her floor and his pants low on his hips, he sneaks a kiss from her lips before plopping down next to her, wrapping an arm over her shoulders tightly.

“Think we can start this movie over?” Harry asks, playing with the ends of Nora’s hair that falls inside the hood of his sweatshirt.

Nora hits rewind, wondering if it’ll hurt falling asleep with a grin permanently stuck on her face.

The next morning, Nora wakes up feeling far too warm. Her backside is flushed completely with Harry’s front, and he’s spooning her tightly. His arms are wrapped securely around Nora’s stomach and she can feel his breath against the side of her neck in hot spurts, his nose brushing the spot underneath her ear. His curly hair is tickling the sides of her face and his legs are slotted between her own and Nora’s never been so tangled up with somebody else before.

And while it’s comforting, there’s no denying that Harry’s body heat is pervading through her skin, and when she wiggles to try and figure out a way to lower the duvet from underneath her chin, it causes Harry to wake up.

As his eyes flutter open, he subconsciously brings Nora’s body closer to his own, and when he finally does open his eyes fully, he notices how close they’ve gotten in the middle of the night. Harry’s not quite sure how it happened, but somehow being wrapped up with Nora Priestley has caused him to have the best night’s sleep of his entire life.

“Morning,” she whispers, her chin resting on her left shoulder as she peeks at him behind her. Her blue eyes are foggy in the morning and her lips are beautifully swollen, and even though her hair is knotted and her cheeks have red jagged lines from her pillowcase all over them, he can’t help but grin back at her, finding her perfect.

“Hi,” he says back, his voice cracking from lack of use. They both roll over so that their backs are flat on the mattress. And just when Harry’s about to swing his arm over Nora’s shoulder to bring her closer to his body so that they can fall back asleep, his Blackberry rings loudly from the nightstand.

Before he can let it go to voicemail, he reaches around Nora’s body to grab it, gulping when he sees Alyssa’s name across the screen. Apprehensively, he brings the phone to his ear, ignoring the heat of Nora’s gaze against his cheek.

“Hello?” he mumbles halfheartedly.

“Baby! Wake up, sleepyhead! We’ll all be back on campus in, like, two hours. Our flight just landed. When will you get in?” Nails scraping down a chalkboard would be a better sound than the one he just heard through the speaker of his mobile. Because suddenly, his Nora Priestley bubble has popped. Their ten-day vacation has come to an abrupt end, and Harry can feel the panic begin to spread throughout his body.

“Harry? You there?” Alyssa asks, and it’s only then when Harry realizes he’s been deadly silent.

He coughs into his fist uncomfortably, before saying, “Hey, sorry. Uh, sounds good. My flight got in a few hours ago. I’m actually, er, pulling into campus now,” Harry lies. The familiar feeling of shame washes over him, and when he feels Nora slide out of bed beside him, a puzzled look falling across her face, he’s never felt worse in his life.

“Perfect! Can’t wait to see you, baby!” Alyssa squeals, and before Harry can respond, he hangs up the phone, tossing it purposelessly against the end of her bed.

It’s silent between the two, and not the sort of comfortable silence that they’ve grown accustomed to with each other. Instead, it’s heavy, weighing them both down until they feel fatigued under the burden of it all.

Nora knows deep down that this is it. The Harry she’s grown to adore the past ten days is no longer there. In its place is the cold, disheartening, lifeless Harry that she’s hated ever since he casted her out during the First Year Mixer almost four years ago. Just like with Connor, her romance with Harry is fleeting. It has an expiration date. And sadly, they’ve reached their end.

He doesn’t say much, and she doesn’t expect him to. He’s clearly tormented by all of this, getting out of her bed ploddingly as he scans the floor for his clothing from the night before. He’s distracted as he puts on his wrinkled Henley, slides on his boots without tying them, slips his arms inside his trench coat, and places everything else he can try to remember inside the pockets. And just before he leaves her room, he stops and turns, looking at her with those dull, green eyes from before.

This is it, Nora thinks, watching the way his eyes fall from her face towards his big sweatshirt on her body to her long legs hidden underneath her tiny sleep shorts. He’s going to apologize. He’s going to come back to bed. He’s going to—

“Can I have my jumper back?” Nora feels as if she’s just been kicked in the chest, air ripping from her lungs and falling into the space between her and Harry. She’s never felt so small in her life. And when his eyes are still dull and his foot begins to tap impatiently and he looks as if he’s about to burst, Nora knows this is truly it. The Harry she knows is officially gone.

Or maybe this is who Harry really is. And the version she got was just a figment of her imagination, an imposter Harry, a Harry that only existed within the ten days of Holiday break inside an empty Townbridge Academy.

With shaking hands, Nora rips the sweatshirt off her body, ignoring the fact that she’s only wearing a sports bra below. She flings the material at Harry’s chest, and she hopes that it diverts his attention from her trembling lips and tear-filled eyes.

He sees everything, though. And without another word, he pivots on his foot, his back towards Nora as he enters the hallway and closes her door tightly, trying his hardest to ignore the sound of her crying through the heavy oak.

Nora should have expected it, in hindsight. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

This time around, it’s not like Carter Donnelly. Instead of spreading rumors to their classmates, Harry says nothing—not even a lie to his friends, not even a subtle brag about how he was the first person to ever see Nora Priestley come undone—nothing. He keeps quiet, barely looks at her, and goes about his life the way he always has—as Townbridge’s Golden Boy, the prodigal son, who always gets whatever he wants.

And that’s what hurt the most.

Harry has enough pressure in his life—pressure from his father, pressure from his friends, pressure from fucking everybody who looks his way. It’s enough to break somebody in half, so succumbing to both is easier than fighting them.

So when his friends come back to campus and resume their lives the way they always have, Harry can’t help but follow suit. Because telling them that he spent the past ten days with Nora Priestley is simply not an option, even if they were the best ten days he’s ever had. And it’s a heartbreaking realization, because even though Harry doesn’t really care for his friends that much, he still doesn’t want to disappoint them.

Whenever he passes by Nora in the hallway, he doesn’t bother looking in her direction. When he can feel her gaze on his back in AP English, he doesn’t turn around. And when he sees her sitting at the table in the dining hall that they deemed their own for ten days, he doesn’t say anything. He just feels his heart freezing over until it’s an icy block inside of his chest.

And when he’s taking pictures with Alyssa at prom and notices Nora’s pretty blue dress that makes her eyes shine, he almost feels the ice crack. But then she looks at him, for only the briefest of moments, and in that minuscule period of time, he can see the disappointment and anger in her eyes, and it’s enough to make the ice harden.

Harry tries to convince himself that when he’s standing on stage with Alyssa with a plastic crown on his head, he doesn’t notice a flurry of blue exit through the front door. Because when he looks out in the crowd and sees an empty spot near Lydia and Margot that Nora once filled, he knows for sure that the flurry of blue was her. And halfway through his dance with Alyssa, when he’s looking at her strawberry-blonde hair and hazel eyes and makeup-filled face and expensive purple dress, Harry feels empty inside. Because he doesn’t want this anymore. He doesn’t want to be around her or his shitty friends anymore.

So he leaves.

But it’s too late—of course it’s too late. Because second chances don’t come to people like Harry, and it’s in Nora’s best interest for him to leave her alone. He’s caused enough hurt in her life, he’s done enough irreparable damage to last a lifetime.

During graduation, Harry tries his best to not look two rows ahead of him and stare at Nora in her red cap and gown. And when her name is called, he tries to ignore the singular cheer from the back of the Great Hall, the cacophonous finger whistle echoing off the walls following shortly after. He wonders if he’s the only person who can see the glimmer of pride in Nora’s eyes when she locates her mother in the back of the room. And when Alyssa scoffs under her breath from the row behind him, muttering a, “How fucking embarrassing,” to her friends, Harry turns around and tells her to fuck off.

As he’s stoically taking pictures with his mother and father in the quad after the ceremony, he sees Nora and her mother in his periphery. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than when she’s smiling with her mom, clinging to her so that they can share this moment together. And when he notices her mother’s matching blue eyes filled with pride, he looks at his own set of parents and wonders if they’ve ever looked at him like that before.

It’s almost enough to make the ice melt. But then his father is taking a business call and his mother is whisked away to talk about society functions with Alyssa’s mom, and Harry’s left standing there completely and utterly alone.

“That boy’s looking at you, Nora,” her mother says, eyes falling on somebody over Nora’s shoulder. “Do you know him?”

When Nora turns around and sees Harry standing there, green eyes full of hope and yearning and wonder, she doesn’t spare him a second look. Her head whips around just as quickly, looking at her mother with a small shake of her head.

“Nope, I don’t know him at all,” Nora says, meaning every word.

And when she drives away from Townbridge for the final time, she’s suddenly brimming with happiness at the fact that she’ll never have to see those people again. And more importantly, she’ll never have to see Harry Styles for as long as she lives.

*** A/N: When I started writing Fade, it sort of ended up playing out in three acts. So with that, this is officially the end of Act One (and officially my favorite chapter of the entire high school years.) Let me know your thoughts and predictions, my inbox is always open for those who want to scream at me. It’s probably going to happen a lot with this story. 

To make room for editing and ensuring I have enough written ahead of time for Act Two to keep with the weekly update schedule, (and because I sort of like the idea of separating things into acts because I’m annoying like that) I’ll be taking a week to sort everything out. Therefore, the next chapter and start of Act Two will be posted on Friday, March 12th. Until then, stay safe and be kind! x

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[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

Background info no one asked for but y’all are getting anyway bc apparently my mind can’t be left alone for two minutes without creating something

(to be fair, this happened while I was in the zone doing art earlier, so I guess that’s a cause)

(but still, there is literally no necessity for all this in Pieces, yet here we are anyways)

(it’s now occurred to me that I should clarify that this is info on Jim in high school, and the role Claire would have if she was to be fit into Piecing Ourselves Together - in a nutshell, they were together in high school, but separated in college, and then pursued other relationships.)

(I may or may not actually use this in the story.  I’m not entirely sure.  I’m mainly sharing it bc I find it interesting and the current likeliness that it’ll make it in is low so it’s not spoiling much.)

In the au Pieces exists in (which I should probably name something other than the ‘Pieces AU’, but  yeah titles aren’t exactly my strong suit), Jim and Claire were together in high school.  They got together earlier on (so still sophomore year) and stayed together through the rest of high school.

Some of their relationship coincides with Barbara and Blinky getting together (which I’m pointedly not going into details on how that happened because Spoilery Plot Reasons) and Jim ended up bringing Claire into the loop, so she knows about trolls (I have no idea about NotEnrique tho, since that didn’t come up in my wonderings).

Anyway, late in high school, after Barbara’s kidnapping, their relationship becomes strained.  Not because they don’t care about each other, but their lives seem to be tugging them in opposite directions.

Claire wants to support Jim and help him get his mom back, but she also knows that if she wants to make it into a good theater program (and defy what her parents want for her in the process), she has to put in the work now to get there.  Oftentimes, the time she has can only fit one or the other (help Jim or prepare for theater).  She doesn’t want to have to choose either boyfriend or career over the other but it increasingly feels like she has to make that choice.

Jim doesn’t want to hold Claire back from her life, so senior year he tells her he can manage on his own, and that she should go to the big theater school she was accepted into.

They try long distance for a while, but it doesn’t work out well.  They end up in different time zones, and so struggle to come up with times to talk to each other (especially bc their respective studies end up taking up a lot of time).

Since Jim struggles with learning computers and coding, he often spends all his time on that and forgets when their calls were supposed to be.

Claire’s new friend, Mary Wang, starts urging her to forget about her high school sweetheart and move on to gaining more out of her college experience (including other boys).

They don’t necessarily fall out of love (they still care about each other quite a bit), but they still decide on an amicable split.

Claire admits she doesn’t know anything really to help with Jim’s family’s situation (as much as she wants to help, she feels rather useless there). 

Jim admits that he feels as though he’s been holding Claire back from having the life she always dreamed of.  He wants her to be happy and doesn’t think it fair that he ask her to give up everything for a task that’s increasingly hopeless.

They wish each other well and hope that they succeed at getting what they want.

For a while, Claire does kinda hope that one day they can find their way back to each other.  Then, she sees on social media that Aja and Jim got together (bc Aja is very active on her social media accounts and is online friends with Shannon who’s online friends with Mary, who’s friends with Claire).  She gives up.  Her and Jim’s contact falls to being online friends on whatever the equivalent of Facebook is, but never interacting.

Claire makes a new friend, a geology student who is a part-time magician to help pay the bills, Toby, around this time.  They start spending more and more time together and eventually get together.

Jim never expected to begin another relationship.  He meets Aja bc he’s first year roommates with Krel, and she often comes over to hang out with them.

At first, Jim is hesitant and closed off, but he’s also massively stressed and finds it nice to just talk to someone who doesn’t know about the mess that is his life.  Aja is easy to talk to and actively encourages him to warm up to herself and her brother (who’s significantly less social).

[bazaarwords]

Two Weeks

Just a little something for @threehoursfromtroy as she recovers from surgery! And props to @thewillowtree3 for putting this all together!

I wish you all the best, Shannon, and I hope you enjoy! :))

They have a routine. It’s the only thing that keeps Korra from falling off the deep end.

The sun is glaring through her window. She hasn’t slept, and the light in her eyes hurts more than it warms. It reminds her of fire. Fire reminds her that the elements are lost to her, again.

There’s a dull pain, throbbing along the limbs she can still feel. There’s medicine for it, but Korra hates the way it tastes. Sometimes she can’t bring herself to try it. Sometimes she sets it aside, and no one says anything.

Outside her window, a sparrowkeet lands on the spindly little tree branch closest to the temple wall. This is the beginning of her routine. She knows because every day that same bird lands on that same branch as the sun blinds her. Every day she wakes from fleeting hours of fitful sleep and is reminded in some way of the elements. Yesterday it was a sharp intake of breath. The day before, the glass of water on her bedside table. She’s sure that tomorrow will be more of the same.

Next, she sits in bed in silence. She feels whatever pain her nerves offer for as long as it takes for her mother to open the sliding wooden door. She pads in quietly, and Korra thinks that maybe her mother hopes that one day her silence will be worth something. That she’ll enter and find her daughter soundly asleep.

“Good morning, sweetie,” she says. It’s gentle, and Korra appreciates her tone, but she doesn’t have the energy to speak. “I brought some of Pema’s steam buns.”

If she could, she would nod. She doesn’t.

Her mother sets the food on her bedside table, leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. It’s for comfort, yes, but Korra has come to realize that it’s also to take her temperature. She wants to appreciate this, but the energy just isn’t there.

“Is there anything I can get for you, Korra?”

Korra says nothing. She’s ashamed by it, but she can’t bring herself to look at her mother. She knows that it’s breaking her heart, but there’s nothing she can do. Nothing she has the power to do.

But this is all part of the routine. The shame and the silence.

Her mother leaves her with the food and another kiss, and she always promises to be back when Korra needs her. But Korra doesn’t know what she needs. All she knows is that she’s bound to a bed.

She sits in silence for a long time afterwards. After her mother is her father, with a hug and a kiss to her temple. After her father is Tenzin, who never knows what to say, but chats aimlessly. Sometimes Meelo and Ikki and Jinora come to talk about their days, and Korra uses whatever energy she can muster to smile. And after, when the sun is just out of sight of her window, it’s Asami with her wheelchair.

“Hey, you,” she says, not with a forced brightness like some of the others, but with a gentle lilt that Korra appreciates. Asami is the only one who never speaks to her with pity. “I spotted that bird you told me about. I think we could feed it, if you’d like to go outside. I brought some crackers.”

It’s difficult now, looking people in the eye, and Asami is both the easiest and hardest person to do so with. Today, she decides she can, and she’s met with such openness and such care—she’s not sure if she regrets making the choice or not.

“Or we could stay here. I went to the library too.” She reaches into a bag she’s set down on the seat of Korra’s wheelchair. “Nothing too interesting, but I did find a book on fluid dynamics that I can read to you, if you want to fall asleep.”

It’s a joke, and Korra watches Asami smile to herself as she leafs through the massive tome. In that moment, Korra wants so desperately to laugh. She wants to feel that joy, that mirth—but instead of laughter, she feels emotion well up at the back of her throat.

Asami looks up from her book for Korra’s answer, and her expression falls.

This is part of the routine, too.

Asami sits on the edge of the bed, taking one of Korra’s hands in her own. Her other reaches up to wipe the tears away. Her hands are rough, calloused with use, but they’re gentle.

When Asami comforts her like this, when she feels her hands trying to soothe the pain away, rather than seeing the scene she can’t stop replaying in her mind’s eye—Korra aches. All over. It’s a much duller ache than the ones in her legs or her back or her arms, but she can’t think on it for long enough to find where it stems from. When she thinks about it, she can’t decide whether she wants Asami closer or for her to leave entirely.

But she doesn’t speak much these days, so Asami stays.

Some days, Asami tries to make light conversation, if for no other reason to fill the silence. Korra watches her—the picture of composure—until she realizes that, under the surface, Asami is anything but composed. In her introspection and her silence, Korra notices the little cracks in her facade, and then ruminates on how all of them are her own fault.

Asami picks at her cuticles. Korra isn’t sure if she’s always done it, but when they sit together in silence, she sees the sharp little movements. Later, when she takes her hands, she sees where she’s been damaging her own skin. It hurts to see, because the last thing Korra wants is any of her friends to be wounded like her. But of course, she says nothing. She just stares down at where Asami has taken her hand this time, and notices again.

Asami’s hand is still on her face. She smooths back Korra’s hair.

“My favorite color is blue.”

Korra frowns, she can’t help it. “What?” she says, her voice rough with disuse. It reminds her of why she doesn’t speak.

“My favorite color is blue,” Asami repeats, softer this time, “but it doesn’t look good on me. So I don’t wear it.”

Korra watches her for a long moment. This is new. This isn’t part of the routine.

“My birthday’s in autumn,” Asami says, “two weeks after the equinox.”

That’s interesting. She didn’t know that. She listens.

Asami drops the hand that had been on Korra’s cheek, placing it over where her other hand covers Korra’s. She smiles down at their hands before she speaks again. “My favorite kind of tea is ginseng. I drink it every morning.”

She hadn’t known that either. She imagines Asami in the mornings, sipping her ginseng tea as she gets ready for the day. It’s a foreign thought. She’s never imagined Asami looking any less made-up than she is before her.

“I learned how to drive at ten.”

It genuinely hurts her face, but Korra can’t help but smile. She catches Asami’s eyes, and she smiles back. It’s gone as soon as it had come, but it leaves Korra feeling just a little lighter.

“And I used a welding torch for the first time when I was seven.”

She doesn’t smile this time, but she wants to. She imagines a much smaller Asami, struggling with a torch and mask.

“There’s laws against learning… most of things I learned to do. As a kid.”

But you wouldn’t be as amazing as you are without all that, Korra thinks, and it’s the first full sentence she’s thought of in a week.

“I’m sure the same could be said for you,” Asami says, a smile evident in her voice.

It could, but Korra doesn’t say anything, she just nods.

They sit in silence for a while. Korra stares down at where their hands are joined. After a moment, Asami breaks from their routine again. She leans forward, gently pressing one hand to the back of Korra’s head, and she presses her lips to Korra’s forehead. It’s so gentle and done with such care that for a fraction of a moment, Korra forgets about everything that’s happened.

When she leans back, she just smiles as easily as ever, and it ruins Korra.

-

“What’s better: whale blubber or yak blubber?”

“You have been reading.”

Asami smirks, angles her head up towards Korra. She’s taken to doing this—laying her head on Korra’s lap. It’s nice, because now she has more feeling in her legs, although movement is still far-off. Asami’s head is a welcome weight.

“Only a little,” she confides, “I wanted to know what kinds of things you do back home.”

Korra notices the change in Asami’s tone. She’s told her about her plans, about her respite to the South. Asami had taken the news… not well, but not terribly. Korra hadn’t been sure what to think of her reaction then, and now, with the easy affection and the weeks of closeness, she wonders if she’s made the right decision. Even if she hasn’t, she can’t turn back.

She’s not sure of how to react to the change in her friend. She leans her head back against the wall with a soft thump. “Whale blubber,” she says, and it feels false.

Asami hums. “They both sound terrible.”

Korra smirks. “Says you, city girl.”

“That’s right,” Asami says, and her tone is playful and a little indignant, “says me.” There’s a longer pause before Asami speaks again, but when she does, it’s gentler, “Have you liked it here?”

Here, where? Air Temple Island? In this bedroom with Asami’s head on her lap? No. She knows what Asami means, but she can’t help but think of the her little room and the sounds of the waves outside.

“I think so,” she says, and feels more honest than her assertion on whale blubber, “I do miss home sometimes.”

She gets to feel Asami nod, which lightens her mood. She looks down at her friend. Her eyes are closed, and Korra notices that they move ever so slightly under her eyelids. Her mouth ever so slightly open—her red lipstick beginning to fade after a long day. Korra figures it’s because the rest of her makeup has begun to fade too, but she notices a spattering of faint freckles along her cheekbone. Only one—her left—and Korra wonders if she covers them up because they’re uneven.

Without thought, she brushes shaky fingers over her cheek. The moment she touches Asami’s skin, her eyes open, and Korra notices just how green they are.

“You have freckles.”

Asami smiles. It’s so gentle, and her eyes soften too. “I do,” she says, “I have them on my shoulder too.”

Korra doesn’t ask, but she wants to, and it seems that Asami picks up on that. She sits up, and there’s a moment where her hands fumble with the buttons of her collared shirt that Korra feels more aware than she has in two weeks. Two weeks of having her thoughts so far away narrows to the dusting of freckles that Asami reveals on the highest point of her shoulder. It’s then that Korra is struck with the impulse to touch them. She doesn’t. That, she thinks in a moment of strange clarity, might be too much.

Asami pulls her shirt back into place. She smiles at Korra. “I also have one on my butt, but maybe you should just trust me on that one.”

Korra laughs, and the noise startles Asami for a moment before the two of them dissolve into giggles. It’s been so long since she’s laughed, so long since she’s felt the joy she does when Asami wipes at her eyes after they’ve quieted and leans against Korra’s side.

“Is penguin sledding better than regular sledding?”

“Oh, so much better,” she says, and the way Asami’s eyes light up at her response ignites something deep inside her. In that moment, she wants to promise Asami that she’ll take her one day, but promises aren’t something she can manage just yet. She can’t commit to a future when her recent memory is flooded with pain and suffering and—

Asami takes her hand, almost as if she’d been reading her mind—“We’ll go,” she says, “one day soon.”

One day soon. She smiles at Asami. 

She can do that.

Read it here on AO3, and read Shannon’s works here!

Much love and a speedy recovery!!

[caroline18mars]

Into the night - Chapter 133

When he didn't hear anything anymore, Shannon had to go and check and quietly opened the door on a pivotal moment, “why did aunt Jordan get a bad heart? Do you think it's because she had to look after me when Mommy and Daddy died?” Noah looked Jared straight in the eye. Jared was torn between his logic and his rage, he didn't want to betray his lover's trust that he would never tell Noah the truth about this, but on the other hand he was so damn angry at Noah's father, he was the reason they were here now..and his rage won “it's not because of you, Noah, don't you ever think that, your aunt didn't want to tell you the real reason because she wanted to protect you but I think you need to know the truth..” he took a deep breath when Noah stared back at him with those beautiful big eyes that were all shades of sad right now. “..You see, your Dad and your Aunt were really young when they lost their parents” Jared started explaining, trying to carefully choose his words so not to upset him even more, “Grandma and Grandpa London” Noah nodded. “Exactly! So your father had to take care of his little sister for a long time because they had nobody else to look after them..and right before your grandparents died, your aunt Jordan had to see a doctor because she had a problem with her heart..” he checked if Noah was still following but he listened breathlessly “and so the doctor sent a couple of letters to your Dad because the problem with Jordan's heart needed to be fixed..but your Dad..never took his sister to the doctor after that..and so the problem just get worse and worse..and that's why she needs a new heart now”. Jared combed his fingers through Noah's hair, he could see the boy's brain working overtime “so it's my Daddy's fault that aunt Jordan is so sick?” Noah said with a quivering lip, “your Dad was really young, too young probably to be able to take such a decision at that time, but he could have told your aunt about her situation when she was a little bit older, he could have tried to help her, but he never did, your aunt Jordan had to find out all by herself and that just isn't right”.

To his surprise, the boy shuffled closer to him “why did aunt Jordan never tell me about that?” he whispered as he buried his little face against his chest, “she didn't want to upset you, she knew how much you love your Dad, so she thought it was better if she kept it all to herself”. Noah wrapped his arms tightly around Jared's neck “I hate my Daddy! He left aunt Jordan alone and he left me alone..and I said some really horrible things to aunt Jordan too” he hissed all determined, “don't say that, the last thing your Dad wanted was to leave you behind, I just thought you needed to know the truth about the situation between him and her, and as far as your aunt goes, you heard her when she said how much she loves you and that you'll always be her number one, remember that, she's fought so hard for you to keep you safe,  there's nothing she wouldn't do for you, nothing or nobody can break the bond between you two, not even your Dad” Jared soothed. “Who's gonna look after me when..” Noah whispered, “Me, I'll always look after you, I'm never gonna let you go, I love you as much as your aunt does, do you understand?” he kissed the boy's hair, Shannon who had heard and seen it all happen, pushed himself away from the door and walked up to the bed “and so will I, and Grandma too, we'll all look after you, buddy!”

”Everybody concentrate, we're going to take out the defibrilator first and see how the heart will react, that's the tricky part, so I need everyone to work as efficiently and quickly as you can, we don't want her to stay on life support too long, is that clear?” the surgeon briefed the team. “Brenda, what's the ETA on the donor heart?” he didn't want to cut her open and then run the risk of having to wait for the donor heart, every minute wasted could mean the difference between life and death, “Team 2 has started removing the donor heart right now, ETA should be around 3AM” his assistant looked at the screen above her head where the surgery a few floors down had started. “So that gives us 4 hours, ok excellent! Standby for VAD-team to remove the defibrilator implant once we cut to get a clear view?”  the surgeon looked at his team as he took the large scalpel and put it on Jordan's skin, “good luck, everyone” he nodded before he pushed down for the first incision. Jordan plummeted right to the ground after what felt like falling for a lifetime, she couldn't scream, she couldn't move, she could only lay there, there was no pain, there was only a silent darkness as she opened her eyes, was she dead? Was this what it felt like? No, no, no this couldn't be it! In a panic she tried to move but she couldn't even lift a finger, she seemed to be locked up inside of herself, somewhere in the distance she did hear some strange noises though, bleeps and blurred out voices or her own deep, rattled breathing? She couldn't tell, she just wanted to give in to the suffocating darkness that overpowered her again but before she let it, the ground underneath her trembled and split open, swallowing her whole as she fell and fell again. “Food!” the nurse pushed the trolley with food inside, only to find the room empty, the muffled voices coming from the other room made her breathe a sigh of relief as she walked up to the door, opening it slowly she found them all cuddled up together. “There's plenty of food if you want” Jared's head shot up, his heart started racing the second he saw her “Jordan? Is there news about Jordan?” he breathed all nervous, quickly letting go of Noah. “The first part of the operation, where the defibrilator is being  removed has started” she said calmly “so far everything is going well”, Jared took a deep breath, they were at the foot of this mountain but he already felt exhausted “ok” was all he could say, not wanting to worry Noah, but he knew how delicate this operation was, that defibrilator was what had kept her heart going the last months and it made him realize that from here on there was no turning back. “Has aunt Jordan got her new heart already?” Noah sat up too, “Uhm no sweetheart..not yet, they've just started the operation so it might be a while before we have more news” the nurse tried to keep his excitement under control but when she saw his mood change, she quickly changed the subject “I was thinking that maybe you would like something to eat while we wait? A little birdie told me that you really like chicken”. Noah nodded but not as enthusiastically as he normally did about food, he knew his aunt would worry if he didn't eat, so he pushed himself off the bed and grabbed Jared's hand and looked at him “are you coming?”. Jared shook his head “I'm not hungry, maybe later, ok?” he smiled while he ran his hand through the boy's hair, “I'm sorry, I can't eat while..” he paused while Shannon guided Noah out of the room, “I understand..and I know you're worried but all we can do is wait, she's in the best possible hands” the nurse touched his arm “why don't you go for a walk to clear your head? I have your number and I'll call you the minute there's more news”.

”Hello again” someone said while she struggled to open her eyes, she recognized that voice from somewhere, if only her eyes would open so she could see where she was. “It's ok” there was a touch of a hand that urged her to concentrate and finally her eyes opened, “Char..Charlotte” she stammered “where am I? Am I..”. Charlotte shook her head “dead? No, you're not dead..” she gave her a tired smile and swallowed the 'yet' she wanted to add, “wanna take a walk with me?”. Suddenly Jordan didn't seem to float any longer, she just sat up into a sitting position and grabbed the hand that Charlotte stuck out to her and held onto it as they walked silently in the darkness for a few minutes.  “That's one massive black rock” Charlotte held up Jordan's hand, their fingers still intertwined, “have you thought about a weddingdress yet?” her voice didn't betray any emotion, “what..oh..uhm, no..” Jordan mumbled, feeling a little caught in the act. “I see..well, at least he finally had the guts to follow his heart this time around, something he's never done when we were a couple” Charlotte sighed, getting lost in the memory,  which was hard for Jordan to watch, being overwhelmed with guilt. “He misses you every single day, he wakes up with you and he goes to sleep with you, you know that..” she heard herself comfort Charlotte, the only woman that had been the biggest menace to her relationship all along. Charlotte nervously wiped the tear from her cheek and shook her head “Tom..you need to talk to Tom, just tell him 'velvet ice', he'll know what to do” desperately trying to get a grip on her emotions “come on, there's something I need you to see” she whispered as she squeezed Jordan's hand.

”Careful..oh my..the heart is in a much worse state than we thought..I don't know if we'll have enough time” the surgeon hissed as he watched the frantic lines on the heartmonitor while the defibrilator was taken out of her chest, two hours had passed and the donor heart still hadn't arrived “where the hell is that donorheart? Do I actually have to walk all the way down there and get it myself?” he knew how unreasonable that sounded but if they didn't start the transplant really soon, it wasn't gonna be just the donor's family in mourning but the recipient's family as well. It was only her first break at the beginning of this double shift and she already felt like she had run a marathon, maybe a bit of fresh air would do her good, so she hurried out the backdoor and into the crisp evening air where the calm of the hospitalgardens greeted her as well as Jared who stood there lost in his thoughts. “Mr. Leto?” her voice startled him and he spun on his heels “yes..what? is there news?”, the nurse shook her head “not yet..I just thought you could use some company, wanna take a walk with me?” and gave him another one of her warm smiles. “Yeah..I'd like that, and it's Jared, not Mr. Leto, alright?” he took a step back to let her lead the way, “you've got a beautiful little family there, I think Jordan is so brave to put her own life on hold so she could look after Noah” she tested the waters to start the conversation, glancing up at him. “Brave doesn't even begin to cover it, she's saved Noah..she saved me..” he dug his hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie “I'm forever in debt to her..what she did for me after Charlotte died..I just..” his emotions got the better of him, “Charlotte..she was the designer, right? She was absolutely stunning, she had such vision, I loved her work” the nurse distracted him from his grief, it was obvious that he still loved her and still loved to talk about her. “Oh she was, she was so beautiful, so pure..so intense..so..so Charlotte.., I loved that she never walked in anyone's shadow, she was so intelligent, so fascinating, so driven in everything she did, when she walked into a room, every head turned, you just had to look at her, it was like watching a goddess walk by..looking back, it's sad to say that she was the first woman I fell head over heels in love with, I was in my late thirties but my life only began the day I met her, I loved her more than life itself..I still do..” every word he spoke about his dead girlfriend was laced with a love so intense it was almost palpable.

“How does Jordan feel about that? I mean, she has to know about all those intense feelings you still have for Charlotte” her question had Jared stop in his tracks “she knows..it's difficult for her..” he whispered as he gazed at his shoes, uncomfortable with the answer he was giving, the endless stream of fights they had about Charlotte on endless repeat in his head. “Well Jared, to be brutally honest I kinda get where she's coming from..the way you talked about Charlotte just now..if I didn't know any better, I would never believe that you just got engaged to Jordan, let alone love her” she knew she was walking a fine line here, but someone needed to tell him. “What?!” Jared's head shot up like he had been stung by a bee, “what? Of course I love Jordan, how can you even suggest that I don't? She was the one that saved me when I was completely messed up, she helped me get back on my feet, she listened to me when nobody else would,  I love her and I'm gonna marry her, ok?” he suddenly exploded at the nurse. “Ok! Alright! If you say so! It's just that..I never heard you talk about her like you did about Charlotte just now, there seem to be a lot of unresolved issues for you as far as Charlotte is concerned! I'd hate to see you marry her because you feel it's the right thing to do, you know, like you owe her something after what she's done for you..she deserves better than that Jared, so much better..” she  turned to walk away again, leaving him to stew, glaring at her back for a few seconds before he decided to follow her. “So you think I'm not good enough for her, is that it?” he caught up with her, grabbing her arm so she had to stop again, “of course not! She thinks you're absolutely perfect, she adores you” she slowly pulled her arm out of his grip “listen, I think we can both agree that life hasn't exactly been kind to her, so what I'm saying is that she doesn't deserve to be in a relationship where she's gonna have to fight for her spot, she deserves your undivided attention, Jared..It's time to put Charlotte to rest, she was your past and you'll always love her, I get that, and so does Jordan, I'm sure of it, but Jordan is the future, and you can't have a future if you keep dwelling on the past..”. Jared took a deep breath, letting her words sink in but then her phone rang, “hello“ she quickly picked up recognizing the OR's phone number, Jared could barely hear what was being said but her sudden nervous behaviour didn't predict much good. “What? What is it? Is it Jordan?” his voice croaked when she ended the call, “yes..the defibrilator is out, but her heart is not doing so well..they're still waiting for the donorheart” the nurse nervously bit her lip. “Wait, what? Why? I thought the donorheart was ready, what's going on?” Jared was crumbling, “I don't know, I need to go check, let's hope there are no complications with the donorheart, because this can't go on much longer, if she doesn't get the heart in the coming hour, it's..” she  swallowed hard “it will be all over”.

[sayo-beatrice]

Banquet - EP 3 (Part 5)

Massive spoilers for Banquet of the Golden Witch! Do not read if you are not okay with spoilers!

I have finished Banquet, so the culprit and accomplices will be listed at the top if you click the “keep reading” button.

Third Game Banquet of the Golden Witch

Culprit: Sayo Yasuda; Eva Ushiromiya Accomplices: Nanjo (Yasu) and Hideyoshi (Eva)

Ninth Twilight: Right before the previous two twilights, George was grieving over Shannon; in his sadness, he called for Beatrice and asked her to let him see Shannon one more time. She agreed, and led him back to the mansion to see her. In reality, the only explanation for this would be Nanjo feeling pity for George. Even though he knew he would die if he told someone the truth about the crimes, the bomb was going to kill him in the end anyway, so it would be reasonable for him to tell George. After being permitted time with Shannon and being told the truth, he was shot by Yasu and planned to kill Nanjo later. For how George got there, it’s shown that he goes out the window in order to go unnoticed.

This was accomplished even though everything was locked, because when the following was said in red, it is very possible that Nanjo opened the window for him and then locked it again when he got outside: 

“All windows and doors leading to the outside were locked from the inside. Furthermore, it is impossible to lock any of those from outside!” 

Lastly (on the case of George), even though it is physically impossible for someone to revive in the real world, Shannon is seen alive and well; it’s basically proven that she was not dead in the first place. There are no excuses for George to see a delusion of Shannon because even though he is immersed with sadness, he shows no other signs of mental incompetence. In other words, it really is her.

Jessica was shot in the face by Eva as payback for incriminating her. After Nanjo tended to her wounds in the servant room, he went outside and was killed by Yasu (refer to the red truth about Nanjo’s death in the section before the last). Meanwhile, Battler kept a watch on Eva because he had suspicions involving her being the culprit. He turned out to be correct, and was promptly killed by her in order to conceal the truth.

Final Moment: Yasu most likely felt bad for Jessica after she got wounded, and decided to guide her to a safe place to protect her from Eva. She assumed her Kanon persona and pretended to be revived with magic (represented by Beatrice trying to be compassionate) in order to guide her to a safe spot in the parlor. However, Eva found them and has a fight with Yasu. After Yasu presumably told her how to escape (she was the only survivor), she was paid in thanks with death.

Eva survived Rokkenjima’s explosion by going to Kuwadorian. It is unknown if she got the money or not - she was left the bank PIN, but supposedly a key card is needed to access the money. The first part of the number does indeed refer to Battler’s birthday as predicted by himself. The second part, 1129, refers to November 29, 1984, which is the date that Kinzo died and Yasu became the new head of the Ushiromiya family.

[yasbxxgie]

Guillermo del Toro's highly personal monster film 'The Shape of Water' speaks to 'what I feel as an immigrant'

Throughout his career, Guillermo del Toro has bounced between large-scale studio films like “Pacific Rim” and “Hellboy” and smaller, more idiosyncratic ones, like “Pan’s Labyrinth” and “The Devil’s Backbone.” His latest movie, “The Shape of Water” — the story of a mute janitor (Sally Hawkins) who falls in love with an aquatic humanoid creature being held captive in a secret government laboratory during the Cold War — is, perhaps needless to say, one of the latter. It’s also being hailed as one of his best.

Building on the raves it earned in its premiere at the Venice Film Festival, the movie — a fable of improbable love in the face of fear and intolerance — drew cheers at its first North American screening Saturday at the Telluride Film Festival. It will play the Toronto International Film Festival next, before opening Dec. 8, in the thick of awards season.

The morning after the Telluride bow, The Times sat down with del Toro to talk about what inspired his surreal adult fairy tale and why its fantastical, period-set beauty-and-the-beast story is all too relevant in today’s real world.

* * *

Your friend and fellow director Alejandro Iñárritu has said that he thinks “The Shape of Water” is your most personal movie. Do you agree?

It’s the movie that I like the most. It’s this one, then “The Devil’s Backbone,” then “Pan’s Labyrinth,” then “Crimson Peak,” and so on and so forth. That’s the order for me — it doesn’t mean people have to agree. It’s sort of the aim-and-target quotient for a filmmaker — did it land where I wanted it? This landed exactly where I wanted it.

But “most personal” also suggests that, of all the films you’ve done, there’s the most of you in this one.

There is the most of me. Most of the time — in “Pan’s Labyrinth” or “Devil’s Backbone” — I’m talking about my childhood. Here, I’m talking about me with adult concerns. Cinema. Love. The idea of otherness being seen as the enemy. What I feel as an immigrant. What I feel is an ugly undercurrent not in the past — not in the origins of fascism — but now.

It is a movie that talks about the present for me. Even if it’s set in 1962, it talks about me now.

That era is often depicted through a nostalgic prism as somehow being the good old days. But this movie paints a very different picture, bringing out the undercurrent of fear and intolerance.

I think when people say “Make America Great Again,” they’re thinking of that America, which actually never ended up really crystallizing. If you were a white Anglo-Saxon Protestant, then things were great. You had jet-fin cars, super-fast kitchens. But everyone else didn’t have it so good. And the creature sort of represents everybody else.

Obviously the world has changed dramatically since you were shooting this film. I can’t imagine you could anticipate the way those themes would resonate ...

I did. And the reason why is that I’m Mexican. I’ve been going through immigration all my life, and I’ve been stopped for traffic violations by cops and they get much more curious about me than the regular guy. The moment they hear my accent, things get a little deeper.

I know it sounds kind of glib, but honestly, what we are living I saw brewing through the Obama era and the Clinton era. It was there. The fact that we got diagnosed with a tumor doesn't mean the cancer started now.

Hopefully one of the things the movie shows is that from 1962 to now, we’ve taken baby steps — and a lot of them not everyone takes. The thing that is inherent in social control is fear. The way they control a population is by pointing at somebody else — whether they’re gay, Mexican, Jewish, black — and saying, “They are different than you. They’re the reason you’re in the shape you’re in. You’re not responsible.” And when they exonerate you through vilifying and demonizing someone else, they control you.

I think the movie says that there are so many more reasons to love than to hate. I know you sound a lot smarter when you’re skeptical and a cynic, but I don’t care.

Going back to the beginning, what was the initial germ of this movie?

I’ve had this movie in my head since I was 6, not as a story but as an idea. When I saw the creature swimming under Julie Adams [in 1954’s “The Creature from the Black Lagoon”], I thought three things: I thought, “Hubba-hubba.” I thought, “This is the most poetic thing I’ll ever see.” I was overwhelmed by the beauty. And the third thing I thought is, “I hope they end up together.”

I kind of doubt that’s what most 6-year-olds were thinking.

No, I’m a weird one.

Is there part of you that feels like, as soon as there’s a monster or any fantasy or genre element in a movie, it automatically gets put in a box and isn’t taken seriously?

Oh, for sure. But that would be important if I cared — but I don’t.

Look, I’ve been doing this for 25 years. If I thought it was not the route to go, I would have changed. To me, the genre is my Campbell’s Soup can if I was [Andy] Warhol, or my comic book vignette if I was [Roy] Lichtenstein.

We forget that the primal motor of storytelling is fable and parable. I don’t come at it from an illiterate or a pop point of view. I come at it with every literary tool I can, every artistic tool I can. I truly try to create beauty and reflection and all of that as conscientiously and judiciously and minutely as I can. And then it’s up to people.

But you’re not on a mission to change the way people see genre?

No, I can’t. I know that what I saw when I was a kid had redemptive powers. Some people find Jesus. I found Frankenstein. And the reason I’m alive and articulate and semi-sane is monsters. It’s not an affectation. It’s completely spiritually real to me. And I’m not going to change.

This movie has a real spirit of innocence and old-fashioned romance, but at the same time, there are aspects that are very adult and sometimes jarring. The first time we see Sally Hawkins’ character, for example, she is masturbating.

Well, to me, there is no perversion in sex if you’re not perverse. You can do whatever you want and as long as you do it in the most beautiful way, it doesn’t matter. A woman masturbating makes it clear to you that this is not your regular Disney princess.

The movie is in love with love and in love with cinema. Sex, violence — whatever it is — the spirit of the movie is so gentle. I wouldn’t recommend it for kids, but for adolescents, it’s a beautiful movie. It’s sort of liberating.

And because you were making it on a budget of under $20 million, no one told you, “Let’s make this safer and more broadly appealing”?

Never. That was the point. The reason why the exercise of cramming a $60-million movie into a $19.5-million budget is worth it is that you get the freedom. I think that money takes freedom away. More money, less freedom.

So as you go on, are you finding yourself pulled more away from the part of the business where there are those kinds of money pressures? If you were approached to direct a tentpole that had to be a huge, four-quadrant blockbuster, like a mainstream superhero movie or a Star Wars movie ...

If I choose a franchise of that size, I try to make sure that we’re aligned — and if we’re not, I walk away.

I have been offered massive stuff, and I’ve turned it down. Why? Because, A, I live a very sort of simple life. I dress like [garbage], I drive a 4-year-old car, I spend all my money on rubber monsters. So I’m OK [laughs]. And also I have this idea that if you do movies for any other reason than the stories, you’re screwed. It means something just gave in.

Photographs:

Sally Hawkins, left, and Octavia Spencer

Sally Hawkins is Eliza Esposito

Michael Shannon portrays Strickland and Michael Stuhlbarg is Hoffstetler

[impalasutra]

Male Nurses are Sexy

Title: Male Nurses are Sexy Author: @impalasutra (aka @revwinchester)

Summary: Dr. Sam Winchester is the Chief of Pediatrics where his partner, Gabriel Novak, is a nurse.  After a rough day at work, Sam decides to push his anniversary plans into action a few weeks early in order to cheer his partner up.

Pairing: Sabriel - Sam Winchester x Gabriel Other Characters: Dr. Luke Ifer (hahahaha, get it?), Nurse Marie (minor OFC), Dr. Shurley, various hospital patient OCs

Challenge(s): @gabriel-monthly-challenge statement prompt “Listen, it’s my duty as your friend to tell you… I’ll kick you in the kneecap if you decide to go through with this” @thing-you-do-with-that-thing Hiatus Writing Challenge prompt “Don’t listen to them.  Don’t you EVER listen to them.” @spnkinkbingo Square: Medical Kink

Word Count: 3956

Rating: Explicit Warnings: cursing, homophobia, sexism, cross dressing, bondage, medical kink (including mock/poor medical practices), prostate massage, rimming, anal sex (m/m, unprotected),

A/N: This is for 3 challenges (see above) and was a lot of fun to write.  I know NOTHING about medicine but I did some research before/while writing but I apologize for anything that’s outstandingly wrong (except for the places where I indicated that Sam isn’t trying to be right.  I don’t apologize for that part).  Anyhow, enjoy!

Male Nurses are Sexy - 

“I really think it’s the best - and only - option for your patient and if you won’t treat him, I’m going to,” Sam proclaimed, frustrated with the conversation he was having with his colleague.  It was the third time the other doctor had come to him with the same patient and the third time that Sam had given him the exact same answer.  

“Listen, it’s my duty as your friend to tell you… I’ll kick you in the kneecap if you decide to go through with this, Dr. Winchester.” Dr. Ifer told Sam.  “It’s experimental treatment at best and when it fails, it’ll ruin your career.”

Sam huffed.  ‘Friend’ was definitely stretching it, Dr. Ifer had been a thorn in Sam’s side for years - ever since they were at Stanford Medicine together - and he had always been jealous of Sam.  “It’s only experimental treatment in the U.S.  They’re having massive success with it in Europe,” Sam reminded his colleague, “and it’s really Karl’s only option at this point.”  Besides, Sam knew that the hospital trusted his judgement.  One of the reasons he had gotten the promotion to Chief of Pediatrics was his willingness to take on higher risk patients.  Patients that Dr. Ifer wouldn’t even look at twice for fear of ruining his “perfect record.”  To this day, Sam couldn’t figure out why the man had thought pediatrics would be a good fit.  

Laughter rang out from down the hall, drawing Sam from his thoughts and both doctors  turned toward the nurses’ station where a few of the ward’s nurses were gathered.

“Look at Mr. Nurse over there, schmoozing it up with the other ladies,” Dr. Ifer sneered, emphasizing the words “other ladies,”  “What a fa-”

“Just because a man is a nurse, doesn’t automatically make him gay,” Sam cut him off before he could finish his sentence and use a derogatory term.  He already had enough paperwork on his desk, he didn’t need to be writing up his colleague again, especially when it seemed like the powers that be didn’t give a damn about the harassment that Gabriel often endured, anyway.

Dr. Ifer rolled his eyes at Sam.  “You’re right, you’re always right, Sammy.  It just means he couldn’t hack med school.”

Dr. Ifer began to leave but Sam grabbed his shoulder and halted the shorter man in his tracks.  “We graduated together, Luke, and I know for a fact that you barely ‘hacked’ med school,” Sam seethed.  He stopped and took a breath, focusing his anger on something else.  “And it’s Dr. Winchester or, at least, Sam.”  All Sam wanted to do was tell Luke to go fuck himself and to never speak about Gabe again but he settled for what he could get.

It was true that being a male nurse didn’t automatically mean someone was gay but Gabriel was.  And Sam considered himself a lucky man to have Gabe waiting at home for him after a long shift.  The Chief of Medicine and the hospital board knew about their relationship but that was it.  Gabriel preferred to keep it quiet, he didn’t want anyone thinking that he got special treatment because of their relationship.  Sam had decided long ago that if secrecy at work was what Gabriel wanted, he would give it to him, even if it hurt sometimes.

Luke shrugged out of Sam’s grasp and stared daggers at the man, his boss really, before sauntering over to the nurses’ station.  Sam couldn’t hear what he was saying but he could see the reaction his words garnered.  The once jovial nurses closed down, returning to whatever tasks they could in order to discourage his presence.  

Sam watched as Luke turned to Gabriel and said something that made the man’s face turn hard.  The eyes of the nurse standing beside Gabe almost bugged out of her head in disbelief at the doctor’s words.  Sam’s blood was boiling as he began to march over but Gabriel’s eyes flicked towards him and the nurse quickly shook his head.  

Sam took a few calming breaths and waited for Dr. Ifer to leave before he finally made his way over to the nurses’ station.  The mood was still tense but the faces were much more friendly at his approach than they had been at Luke’s.

“Dr. Winchester, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Gabriel asked.

Sam huffed a laugh through his nose.  “Just checking in with my favorite nurses,” Sam replied, shooting a smile towards a woman who was organizing some files.  “And how many times do I have to tell you, Gabriel? Sam is fine, especially when there aren’t any patients around.”

Gabriel just shrugged.  “Guess I’m just old fashioned like that, Doc!”  He was the only nurse who refused to use Sam’s first name.  The doctor knew it was because he was worried about slipping up and getting too familiar at work but he still liked to give the man a hard time about it.  

Sam rolled his eyes, “Well, nurse,” he said, emphasizing the title, “I’m going to need…”

It was their usual style of banter at work but Gabriel’s face hardened again and his eyes were cold.  “Marie, can you help Dr. Winchester with whatever it is he needs?”

Before his colleague could reply, Gabriel turned on his heel and strode away into a patient’s room.  

Sam stood there dumbfounded for a moment before turning to Marie.  “What did I do?”

Marie moved around to the other side to the desk, giving Sam a sympathetic look.  “He’s had a rough day.  We’ve got a new patient and she’s a sweetheart but her dad is a sexist asshole,” Marie explained.  “He’s been giving Gabe crap about being ‘just a nurse’ every time he needs to go into the room.  But Shannon, the patient, has taken a liking to him so he sucks it up and puts on a smile for her.”  The nurse paused to breathe and Sam’s heart clenched at her words.  “I think that, combined with Dr. Ifer’s comments… It just set him off when you called him ‘nurse,’ I think.”

Sam groaned and swiped a hand down his face.  “Shit,” he mumbled, “OK, thanks.  I’ll talk to Shannon’s dad and have another sit down with Dr. Ifer.”  Sam had known that Shannon had been admitted to the ward but this was the first time he was hearing that her dad was a problem parent.  Hopefully, he’d be able to assure the man that all of the nurses on the pediatrics team were highly qualified, subtly letting the man know that he was aware of the things he was saying and that he wouldn’t let one of his staff be treated like that.  “And I’ll find Gabe and apologize,” he added.

Sam went to leave but Marie stopped him for a moment.  “For what it’s worth, I think he’s more upset with the whole thing.  He’s not mad at you specifically.  If I had to guess, I’d say you’re his favorite doctor to work with by far.”

Sam smiled.  “Thanks Marie,” he replied, “I’m sure you’re right.”  He walked down the hall and caught Gabriel as he was exiting the room he had disappeared into a few minutes earlier.  His face was even more tense and Sam realized that it must have been Shannon’s room.  He took a quick look over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching and pulled Gabe into a supply closet.  He crowded his lover against the door and kissed him fiercely.  “Marie told me about Shannon’s dad and about Dr. Ifer trying to start shit,” Sam said, his voice breathless after the kiss.  He looked into Gabriel’s eyes, holding his gaze.  “Don’t listen to them.  Don’t you EVER listen to them.”  Sam pressed his lips into Gabriel’s again, peppering the man with kisses until he was trying to squirm away.

“Sam, stop,” Gabriel mumbled into the quiet room.  “Scrubs don’t hide anything and I can’t go back out there with a hard-on.”

Sam smirked against Gabe’s skin but he did listen and pull away.  He pulled Gabriel into a tight embrace.  “I love you and I’m sorry that I hurt you back there,” he said, murmuring the words into the shorter man’s hair.

Gabriel squeezed him tighter in response.  “It’s OK.  You didn’t know.”  He got on his tiptoes and placed a chaste kiss on Sam’s lips.  “I love you, too.  Now, pass me something from the top shelf so it doesn’t look weird when we walk out of here together.”  Gabriel’s smirk told Sam that while, usually this kind of interaction would be discouraged at work, he was ok with it today, had needed it even.  

Sam reached up over his head and grabbed a stack of towels from the top shelf, passing them down to Gabriel before the two of them left the room.  No one seemed to notice the two of them coming out of the closet but Gabe still made a show of restocking the towels at the nurses’ station, even though they already had plenty.

Sam stopped in Shannon’s room and carefully but firmly laid down the law with her dad, hoping that one conversation would be all it would take to get things on the right path between the family and the nursing staff.  He had a few patients left to see but nothing that was urgent so, instead, he went to the Chief of Medicine’s office and he told Dr. Shurley that there was an emergency at home.

“You had mentioned wanting to be on the floor of the pediatrics unit, sir, to see how things run down there,” Sam explained, “so I was hoping you might cover for me so that I can take care of things at home.”  If Dr. Shurley said yes, Sam was hoping this would kill two birds with one stone.  “Dr. Ifer is on the floor now and would be happy to walk you around.”  Maybe if he saw Luke in action, the Chief of Medicine would do something about him.

To Sam’s surprise, Dr. Shurley agreed and Sam made a beeline for the parking lot.  A few weeks ago he had made a plan and a couple of purchases for his and Gabriel’s upcoming anniversary but Sam had decided to put the plan into action a little bit early in order to cheer Gabriel up.

By the time Gabriel got home, Sam had everything in place and he darted up the stairs to get changed while the smell of his favorite take out lured Gabe into the kitchen.  Sam had put the food onto a plate, poured a glass of wine, and lit a candle for his lover.  Next to the glass was an envelope that said “eat first, then open me.”  Sam had even drawn a heart on it.

Once he had changed, Sam crept downstairs barefoot and stood behind Gabriel in the doorway to the kitchen.  He silently put his shoes on the ground and stepped into them, grateful that he had decided to break them in and practice walking in them whenever he had been in the house alone over the past weeks.  Sam leaned on the doorframe and watched with a smile as Gabriel finished his meal and polished off the glass of wine, finally reaching for the envelope.  His smile only grew as Gabriel laughed at what he had written inside.

“What you do is so important and you are an amazing nurse.  Besides, I think male nurses are sexy as fuck.  Let me prove it to you tonight. - S”

Sam watched as Gabriel read and then sat back in his seat, his posture relaxed and happy, a total 180 from the way he had been holding himself in the hospital.  Sam posed himself in the doorway as sexy as he could manage considering his shoes and attire and then he spoke.  “So, what do you think? Let me take care of you tonight?”

Gabriel jumped a little at the sound of Sam’s voice but regained his composure and turned around quickly, his jaw dropping as he took in his partner.  

Sam was wearing a “sexy nurse” costume or, more accurately, a woman’s sexy nurse costume.  The dress stretched across his chest, showing off the tattoo he had above his heart, and the flared skirt barely covered his ass.  He was wearing red thigh high fishnet stockings that perfectly matched the red trim on the dress.  He spun in a circle, showcasing the big red bow on the back of the dress.  The costume was made complete by a red and white cap and apron and a pair of white patent leather platform heels that added another six inches to Sam’s already impressive height.

Gabriel looked Sam up and down and when he was finally able to pick his jaw up from the ground, he let out a long whistle.  “Hello nurse!”

Sam could feel himself blushing under Gabriel’s scrutiny.  “So, you like it then?” he asked, trying to mask his self consciousness.  

Gabriel was on to him, though, and crossed to where Sam stood.  He could barely reach to kiss the man o a regular day but now, in his heels, he stood more than a foot taller than Gabriel, literally towering over his lover.  Gabe put his hands on Sam’s hips and looked up into his face before pressing a kiss over his heart.  “I love it Sam,” he assured the man.  “Now,” he added taking a step back and wagging his eyebrows, “I believe you said something about taking care of me, nurse?”

Sam beamed down at Gabriel and took him by the hand, confidently leading him through the house.  With each step in the heels, his hips swayed and the crinoline in the skirt brushed against his ass.  Sam had never worn something or done anything quite like this before but if his erection and Gabriel’s reactions so far were any indication, this wouldn’t be the last time.  “The exam room is ready for you, Mr. Novak,” Sam told Gabriel as he led him into their guest room.  He had shifted the furniture around a little earlier in the day in order to suit his purposes.  The desk was now in the center of the room and covered with the white paper you’d find covering the exam table in nearly every doctor’s office.  Sam had even managed to make the bed look clinical, doing away with the comforter and changing the sheets to a starched white set reminiscent of what would be found in the hospital, if hospital beds were queen sized, four poster beds.

Sam led Gabriel to the center of the room and then sashayed across to the wardrobe.  He pulled out a hospital gown and brought it to his partner.  “You’ll need to change into this,” he explained before moving to take a seat on the edge of the bed, his eyes intently trained on Gabriel.

Gabriel put on a little bit of a show for Sam as he shimmied out of his scrubs, choosing to turn his back to his lover and bend at the waist as he removed his pants and then slowly stood up.  Once he was naked he took his time shaking out the hospital gown that Sam had given him before he slid his arms into it.  “I think I’m going to need some help getting it fastened,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Sam who had begun to stroke his cock while watching Gabriel undress.

Sam’s pupils were blown wide with lust but he kept it together and stood, leading Gabriel towards the desk in the center of the room and gently pushing his back so that he bent at the waist, his chest pressing into the paper that covered the wooden surface.  “I don’t think that will be necessary, actually,” Sam replied as he positioned Gabriel’s arms up above his head.  “I hope you don’t mind the restraints, it’s a new office policy after a few unruly patients,” he explained, wrapping leather cuffs around Gabriel’s wrists and attaching them to a small eyebolt he had installed on the desk.  “Your chart says you need a thorough prostate examination and I need unrestricted access in order to do that to you- I mean, for you.”

Sam crossed around behind Gabriel, his heels clicking against the hardwood floor as he collected a few items he was planning on using throughout the evening.  When he returned, he ran a hand down Gabriel’s back.  “Now, if you would just relax and spread your legs, Mr. Novak, I can begin.”

Gabriel spread his legs and Sam ran his hands over his partner’s ass.  “You’re ready to begin, Mr. Novak?”

“Fuck yes, Nurse Winchester,” Gabe replied and Sam clicked open the bottle of lube.

Sam slicked up his fingers and slowly pushed one into Gabriel’s ass.  He quickly found his lover’s prostate and began slowly rubbing his finger against it.

Gabriel, who was already turned on from Sam’s outfit and his unexpected strip tease, responded immediately with a low groan.  He began canting his hips, desperate for friction along his cock, but the crinkly medical paper only moved with him and provided him with no relief.  “More, please nurse,” he plead in frustration.

Sam slung his free arm over Gabriel’s lower back, holding his hips in place.  “Mr Novak, I’m going to need you to stay still,” he told the man as he worked a second finger into his ass, “otherwise, I can’t get an accurate result from your examination.”

As Sam’s fingers resumed their slow, torturous work, Gabriel let out a sound that could only be described as a whimper.  He caught his breath and managed to grind out a single word.  “Bullshit.”  Sam had been stretching the truth or just plain making up medical facts throughout the examination and Gabriel had decided he wanted to play a more active role.

Sam playfully gasped at Gabriel’s outburst.  “Mr. Novak!  You shouldn’t use language like that in the exam room!” he admonished as he reached for the bottle of lube, planning on adding more of the slick, cherry flavored liquid to his fingers.

Before he could open the bottle, though, Gabriel spoke again.  “I looked it up on WebMD before I came in and they disagree with everything you’re saying.”  Gabriel’s voice was smug and Sam decided to play along.

He quickly pulled his fingers out of Gabriel’s hole, causing the man to cry out at the complete loss of contact.  “Talking about that filthy website is prohibited, Mr. Novak!” Sam informed Gabe.  “If you insist on using such vulgar language, I’m going to have to punish you.”  His hand landed on Gabriel’s ass with a loud smack and his patient groaned in pleasure.  Sam spanked Gabe hard enough that his ass turned pink under his hand but not so hard that it wouldn’t be a pleasurable spanking and by the time Sam was done, Gabriel was moaning with and rocking his hips back into every slap.

“Now, I think I need to perform a closer examination,” Sam informed his patient.  He carefully got to his knees and used his hands to spread Gabriel’s ass cheeks.  Sam gently licked over Gabriel’s hole before pulling back to watch the muscle contract at the loss of sensation.  Gabriel whimpered for the second time that night as Sam blew a stream of cool air over where he had just licked and Sam watched his muscles clench and contract again.  “Your reflexes look good, Mr. Novak.  Just a few more tests to run.”  With those words, Sam dove back in, running his tongue over and around Gabriel’s hole before pointing his tongue and pushing it past the ring of muscle he had loosened with his fingers.

Gabriel was writhing and moaning on the desk as Sam continued his onslaught, the only intelligible words falling from his mouth being “nurse,” “Sammy,” and the occasional expletive.  His hips bucked hard when Sam added a couple of fingers to the mix and, soon enough, Gabriel was on the edge of an orgasm.

Sam pulled his mouth away but kept three of his fingers deep in Gabriel’s ass, slowly massaging his partner’s prostate.  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Novak,” he apologized.  “I’ve gotten you all aroused, how unprofessional of me.”  Sam slowed his fingers even more, barely teasing the sensitive gland.

“Don’t stop now, please,” Gabriel panted as Sam pulled his fingers away, “don’t stop.  I’m so close…” He tugged on the cuffs at his wrists and Sam realized a second too late that he hadn’t buckled them properly and his patient wasn’t as secure as he had thought.  

Gabriel caught Sam off balance, the heels slowing his progress as he returned to his feet, and spun him around, wrapping the cuffs around Sam’s wrists and securely fastening them behind his back.  As Sam tried to regain his footing in his heels, Gabriel pushed him onto his back on the bed.  He flipped up Sam’s skirt and was pleased to find that his nurse had been getting just as excited during the examination as he had.  He knew Sam would get uncomfortable quickly with his arms pinned behind his back and under his body as they were, so he didn’t want to waste any time.

Gabriel straddled Sam’s erection and sunk down, his well stretched hole taking his lover’s cock with ease.  Once he was fully seated, Gabriel shifted his hips and Sam groaned, throwing his head back into the pillows.  “I should tease you like you were teasing me,” Gabe threatened, “but you make a very naughty nurse, Sammy, and I’m about to burst.”

With that, Gabriel dropped his hands to the bed on either side of Sam’s head for leverage and lifted himself up before dropping back onto Sam’s cock, eliciting a long, low moan from the man beneath him.  Gabriel crashed their lips together as he fucked himself on Sam;s erection.  

Sam’s hips bucked up, meeting Gabriel thrust for thrust and when Gabe was sure his partner was close, he adjusted his position so that Sam’s cock brushed against his prostate with every move either of them made.  Gabriel brought one hand down to his erection and began stroking himself, pushing himself over into his orgasm.  His cum splattered across Sam’s stomach and chest as his muscles contracted around Sam’s cock and the man groaned as he released deep inside of Gabriel.

Gabe managed to maneuver his body so that he collapsed next to Sam rather than on top of him and after a few moments, Sam rolled onto his side, his back facing Gabriel.  He took the hint and uncuffed his lover’s wrists, tiredly rubbing his shoulders to release some of the tension that the position had built up.  Gabe was fighting to stay awake after being teased for so long before finally grabbing control and taking his release from Sam’s body.

A few minutes later, Sam got up and retrieved the towels he had stashed in the room earlier and gently cleaned them up, kicking his heels off in the process.  He scooped Gabriel up in his arms and carried the well satisfied man back to their bedroom.

“You were right,” Gabriel mumbled into Sam’s chest once they were in bed, “male nurses are sexy.”  Gabriel’s mouth opened in a huge yawn but just as he was drifting off to sleep he added, “I liked the sound of Nurse Winchester.”  

Sam wasn’t sure Gabriel had even meant to say it, but it was something he had been thinking, too.  Even more, Sam liked the sound of Dr. Winchester-Novak and he knew what his new anniversary surprise was going to be.

If you’d like to be added to one of my tag lists (either forevers or a specific character or ship) let me know!

Fic Tags: @nanika67 GMC Tags: @gabriel-monthly-challenge @ashiewesker @archangel-with-a-shotgun @lacqueluster @revwinchester

FOREVERS!: @hexparker

All Ships: @purgatoan

Medical AU/Sabriel Tags from @mrswhozeewhatsis: @mrswhozeewhatsis @thinkwritexpress-official @SinceriouslyAmellPadalecki @ferferelli @chrisatplay @faith-in-dean @winchesters-princess @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @justanothersaltandburn @mysaintsasinner @brothersonahotelbed @hexparker

[jillmckenzie1]

The Doughnut Hole

Making a movie is hard. Making a good movie? That’s really hard. Making a good mystery? These days that appears to be damn near impossible, given the relative scarcity of mysteries. Horror movies, superhero flicks, action, and dramas are all doing well in theaters and multiplexes. A good old whodunit? They’re a rare breed.

But why? Is it because, as a society, we’re dumber? I imagine that some people of a certain age would sneeringly point to Millennials and the rise of social media and claim their attention spans have been irrevocably damaged.* Yet the average American reads somewhere in the neighborhood of a dozen books per year, and I would imagine that a good chunk of those are mystery novels.

I don’t think it’s that we’ve gotten less intelligent. Instead, it’s due to the rise of the four-quadrant film and a greater focus upon international audiences. Four-quadrant films are designed to attract the interest of people under 25, people over 25, women, and men. To do that, they feature plots that can cross cultural barriers with ease.** Studios also believe that complicated plots are a turn-off to international audiences. Is that racist? Yeah, probably.

Once in a while, a good mystery isn’t released so much as it escapes. When that happens, my heart leaps. I thoroughly enjoy a cast of entertaining scumbags, a needlessly complex homicide, and a sleuth that delights in making everyone else feel inadequate. Rian Johnson followed up the very good Star Wars: The Last Jedi with something even better, the snide whodunit Knives Out, and we are all the better for it.

Why would someone commit murder? The extravagantly named crime novelist Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer) made a career out of that question. He’s a best-selling mystery novelist, and his success has earned him a $60 million fortune and a sprawling mansion. You’d think that he’s living on easy street, spending his days with a loving family, right?

Not so much! In point of fact, his immediate family is…not awesome. They are:

  Linda (Jamie Lee Curtis) is Harlan’s oldest daughter, the head of a successful real estate company.

Richard (Don Johnson) is Linda’s husband, and he’s quite sloppily having an affair.

Joni (Toni Collette) is the wife of Harlan’s deceased middle son, and she heads up an extremely crunchy lifestyle brand.

Walt (Michael Shannon) is Harlan’s youngest son, and he’s ostensibly in charge of publishing Harlan’s novels.

Meg (Katherine Langford) is Harlan’s granddaughter, and she attends a prestigious liberal-arts college.

Ransom (Chris Evans) is Harlan’s grandson, and he excels at spending money and pissing off the rest of the family.

  To one degree or another, all of these people are leeching off of Harlan. With a family like that, you can see why he needs a friend, and her name is Marta (Ana de Armas). Originally hired to be Harlan’s nurse, the two of them formed a deep friendship. Despite not knowing if she’s from Cuba, Ecuador, Paraguay, Uruguay, Brazil, or somewhere else south of the border, the Thrombeys tell Marta she’s part of the family.

Things get complicated when Harlan turns up dead. He may have killed himself, but questions remain. The good news is that Detective-Lieutenant Elliott is on the case, and he’s brought help. Consulting detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) has been hired to assess the situation and determine if foul play was involved. Did Harlan commit suicide or was he slain? If he was killed, who stood to gain the most?

Many people first became aware of Rian Johnson upon the release of the wildly controversial The Last Jedi. That’s a shame, because, at his core, Johnson isn’t a Star Wars guy. He’s a crime/mystery guy, and a filmography consisting of Brick, Looper, The Brothers Bloom, and three outstanding episodes of Breaking Bad bears that out. That’s where his heart is, and that’s where he soars as a director.

While Knives Out might not be the best movie of the year, it’s absolutely the best edited and perhaps the best directed. The film drips with ingenuity, and you can feel Johnson’s passion for the mystery genre. The majority of the film takes place in a big old house that could be in the same neighborhood as the mansion from Clue. Without telegraphing it, Johnson gives us a tour of the place so we’re comfortable with the geography and know who is where on the night in question. His pacing is gleeful, and considering he’s working in a genre that depends on massive exposition dumps, it never feels like the film slams on the brakes to explain things. Plus, it has one hell of a final shot.

Johnson’s screenplay is clever—perhaps a little too clever. He’s primarily concerned with entertaining us, and he’s made a crowd-pleaser from top to bottom. The script crackles with one-liners, and he does a nice job of sketching the characters and showing us how they relate to each other. He also plays exceptionally fair in terms of laying out the clues ahead of time, so that when the mystery is revealed, all the pieces lock into place tightly. It’s been said that all art is political, and that’s especially true here. Johnson takes shots at goofy proto-hippies, the alt-right, and a certain orange-hued chief executive. He’s making valid points about how the politics of the 2016 election have seeped into our daily lives, and how the real problem isn’t right versus left, but actually rich versus poor.

The ensemble is ridiculously entertaining, and while some members of the cast have more time onscreen than others, everyone gets a moment to shine. After several years playing Captain America, you can feel Chris Evans’ enthusiasm toward playing the loutish Ransom. Similarly, Toni Collette is having an absolute blast as self-help guru Joni, and Jamie Lee Curtis positively oozes privilege as elder daughter Linda.

However, there are two performances that slightly stand out from the rest. On the flamboyant side of things is Daniel Craig as Benoit Blanc. His Southern accent is referred to as “CSI-KFC,” but Craig is really playing an American version of Hercule Poirot. He condescendingly sifts through the clues and triumphantly exposes the truth, and you can hear the enthusiasm in his voice as he puts the pieces together. Leaning more naturalistic is Ana de Armas as Marta. She’s playing a comparative rarity in this genre; a genuinely good person. If character is entirely based upon the choices made, then de Armas excels at showing us who Marta truly is. She’s a woman determined to do the right thing, even though her decisions might land her in deep trouble. Her performance is also highly amusing in that, if Marta attempts to lie, she’ll vomit explosively.

A quality film doesn’t have to be a downer. I absolutely adored The Irishman, but I can’t imagine giving it a watch to cheer myself up. Knives Out, on the other hand, is a sure-fire depression killer. It remains to be seen if it revitalizes the mystery genre. While I’d like more whodunits, I’m grateful we have a film made with such skill and intelligence that’s also an awesome time at the movies.

  *While there might be something to this, keep in mind that the Boomers made Mr. Ed, a sitcom about a talking horse, a gigantic hit.

**Those cultural barriers are a big reason why major studios make far fewer comedies than they used to. The American sense of humor is very different from the Cambodian sense of humor, which is very different from the Brazilian sense of humor, and so on.

from Blog https://ondenver.com/the-doughnut-hole/

[patheticphallacy]

IT’S MAY Y’ALL. Even though I’ll still be doing blog posts in May, it’s not going to be as hectic, as I finally finished my second year of university and have decided to take it easy after a very packed April.

I’m also doing things a little different with my wrap up this month by getting rid of star ratings. I watched a video on it, and I just feel like I’d rather people go by my actual comments on the books than look at the rating and decide that covers all my thoughts. I still have star ratings on Goodreads for my own personal use, but I’m doing my best to start writing proper summaries of my thoughts from now on!

READING WRAP UP

  Tropic of Serpents by Marie Brennan– a solid follow up to the first book, although there’s a startling lack of dragons in a series about a dragon naturalist! Definitely go into this one expecting a lot more politics than book 1, and Isabella starting a lot of Drama.

The Elementals by Michael McDowell– such an amazing horror novel! McDowell is so underrated for a writer who wrote predominantly in the seventies and eighties, and it’s so tragic how young he died. 

Princess Jellyfish Volume 1 by Akiko Higashimura– such a disappointing read. It’s really problematic, to the point where it drastically impacted my enjoyment of the plot, especially when I’ve got so many other more recent manga I could be enjoying more than this. 

Fullmetal Alchemist Volume 8 by Hiromu Arakawa– speaking of next tier manga… holy shit. I am so scared of volume 9 and finishing this series, it’s meant so much to me and it’s really helped me immerse myself fully in reading manga. 

Lumberjanes Volume 9 by Shannon Watters– Barney is a precious precious bean and I love them! This is a roller derby volume, and it was pretty great: I’ve been a fan of roller derby since I first watched Whip It, and this volume was super entertaining!

Lumberjanes Volume 10 by Shannon Watters– wholesome volume where the parents come to visit their kids. I do feel really sad for Molly, but it was nice seeing everyone else’s parents! 

Lumberjanes: A Midsummer Night’s Scheme by Nicole Andelfinger– this was a fun bonus one shot comic. However, it does get very cheesy and it’s whole message is just so obvious  that them explaining it was very much unneeded. 

Smut Peddler Volume 1 by Various Authors– this is a fun anthology of smut comics that I super enjoyed reading. E.K. Weaver’s comic is by far my favourite, and it’s only after I realised that it was a one shot about a character in her webcomic! 

Rumple Buttercup BY Matthew Gray Gubler– a very cute children’s graphic novel about loving yourself and finding acceptance! 

Smut Peddler Volume 2 by Various Authors– this wasn’t as good as volume 1, but I still read it really quickly and had a fun time looking at the different art styles and methods of story telling!

Dream Daddy by Various Authors– there are so many good moments in this comic, it’s so great. Highly recommend if you’ve played the game, and if you haven’t, check it out, it’s real fun! Damien and Robert’s issue was by far my favourite as they were my favourites in the game too.

Tokyo Ghoul Volume 5 by Sui Ishida– finally, I’m starting to enjoy Tokyo Ghoul. It took a while this volume to actually understand what the hell was happening, but once I did, it really did become something I enjoyed.

Rick and Morty VS Dungeons and Dragons by Patrick Rothfuss– A decent enough read, although there is way too much dialogue and exposition on every page. The font is really small, too, so reading it was a hassle. 

Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero– this book was actually terrible and I have a whole review discussing my issues and how harmful it is!

Jackass! Volume 1 by Scarlet Beriko– This is a funny, sweet manga about fetishes and blackmail. It has an age gap romance between an 18 year old and a doctor, and there is some transphobic bullying/weird treatment of bullying being okay if the person has a crush on you, but the main relationship is great, and the MC has a really lovely relationship with his older sister. 

Batwoman: Elegy by Greg Rucka– Chronicles the Alice Batwoman arc from Detective Comics, as well as giving the backstory for Kate. It’s so great having a badass DC hero who is a lesbian, whose storyline also touches on homophobia in the ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ era of the military. Glad I finally got to this!

Sparrowhawk #5 by Delilah S Dawson– a really disappointing series conclusion overall. I knew I should’ve just stopped reading after the first issue and I wasn’t feeling it, and I honestly wish I had after such a dissatisfying conclusion. Others may enjoy this, but it really wasn’t for me.

Assassination Classroom Volume 1 by Yusei Matsui— an amazing series starter! Already really moving with a teacher who spends all his time encouraging his students despite being a threat to the entire world they have to kill within the year. I have a feeling this will become a new favourite.

I’ll Be Gone in the Dark by Michelle McNamara– really great non-fiction read written by a journalist who played a massive part in the resurgence of talk surrounding the Golden State Killer. You also get some of her life story, and by the end I was almost in disbelief that the author had already died by the time her work was published. I will say it did drag at points, especially in the parts not written by McNamara that had to be finished after she died, but overall a really thorough look into the cases and the victims.

The Woods Volume 5 by James Tynion IV– this series is- dare I say it- picking up? I still have issues with the representation and the fact that most of the main characters to have died, especially in this volume, were POC while the white characters are in the exact same situation and survive. Will have to see if this carries on. 

Backwards & In Heels by Alicia Malone– this started off strong, and I found out so much about women in film and their presence in the industry since the creation of film in the 1800’s. However, by the end it got so repetitive and formulaic in the way information was presented that I started skimming. This is more of a coffee-table, occasional-read book when you fancy learning more about amazing women! Also, even though there is diverse rep and talk of lack of hiring of WOC and LGBT+ women in the industry, we also get the author praising white women earlier on in the book who took on roles where they did blackface and yellowface, which really dulled down the conversation in the latter half of the book. 

My Love Story!! Volume 6 by Kazune Kawahara– so GOOD. I got so emotional reading this volume, I ended up crying. This is by far one of my favourite manga series, I can’t recommend it enough. It follows tough-but-soft boy Takeo as he enters into a relationship with Yamato, cutest girl in the universe, with the support of his best friend Suna. Truly the PEAK of romantic comedy fiction. 

When the Sky Fell on Splendor by Emily Henry– emotional, hardhitting read about a group of friends who end up with superpowers after discovering a strange alien object. It’s very reminiscent of the film Super 8 in my head, and if you love stories about not only aliens but found families through friendship, highly recommend!

The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle– I just don’t think Sherlock Holmes is for me. I love the retellings and adaptations, and in theory, I’m invested in the murder mysteries, but I just think Doyle’s prose weighs it down and there’s always that underlying racism I don’t think is appropriate to even attempt to shake. 

And my May TBR Jar pick is…. MY HEART GOES BANG by Keris Stainton!

TV SHOWS/MOVIES/VIDEOS

At the start of the month, I started bingeing Dead Meat videos, a channel entirely revolving around horror. My personal favourite series is the Saw kill count videos, and the movies that changed horror podcast episode James (the host) does with his girlfriend Chelsea (who is amazing)!

I finally watched season 2 of Stranger Things! I adore Steve, as always, and it was such a solid season (BOB). However I did have an issue with the needless rivalry that festered with Elle towards Max, season 3 better sort that and stop pitting girls against each other for no reason other than because of boys.

Zoe from Read by Zoe was on FIRE this month with some really great read-a-thon videos! I loved her 24 read-a-thon vlog especially, she read only books she enjoyed growing up and it all felt really nostalgic.

This is very much a personal one, but my favourite streamer returned to a podcast with the company he used to work for, and it was just…. so heartwarming to watch. I can’t believe he left four years ago! I’ve been watching this company since I was about fourteen, so it was so nice watching this, a long-awaited reunion.

Kat at paperbackdreams did an amaaaaazing video rant reviewing After by Anna Todd, and I loved it. In general Kat is a top tier booktuber for me, I highly recommend her videos as much as I can!

MUSIC I’VE ENJOYED

Pressure by The 1975

Old Town Road Remix by Lil Nas X, Billy Ray Cyrus

The Black and White and I Spend Too Much Time in My Room by The Band CAMINO

I Got 5 On It  (Tethered Mix From US) by Michael Abels, Luniz, Michael Marshall

Soldiers (From Stranger Things) by Kyle Dixon, Michael Stein

REVIEWS I POSTED

Three Romance Reviews: Kulti, The Hating Game and Sunstone

The Elementals Book Review

Meddling Kids Book Review

OTHER POSTS I’VE DONE 

Spring Cleaning Book Tag

Film Friday: Favourite Campus Films

Getting Through Exam and Essays: ADVICE

DISCUSSION: Reading at University, and how I do it!

Music Monday: OMG This Song Book Tag

Top Ten Tuesday: Rainy Day Reads

Top Ten Tuesday: First Ten Books I Ever Reviewed on Goodreads

  April Wrap Up & May TBR Jar Pick IT'S MAY Y'ALL. Even though I'll still be doing blog posts in May, it's not going to be as hectic, as I finally finished my second year of university and have decided to take it easy after a very packed April.

[lopezdorothy70-blog]

UFOs Spotted Off The Irish Coast By Airline Pilots – Here Are The Details

A pilot flying from Montreal, Canada to Heathrow airport in the UK spotted “a very bright light” that had come up along the left side of their aircraft before it “rapidly veered to the north.” This is a common characteristic of UFOs that have been spotted by both airline and military pilots since the dawn of human aviation. The older our civilization gets, the more time we spend in the air and the higher we climb, the more reports of strange objects seem to arise.

She wondered what it could be, but said it did not seem to be heading for a collision. When I read this, I thought of Ex-Canadian Defense Minister Paul Hellyer's comments stating that these objects often performed evasive maneuvers when in the vicinity of our aircraft.  Unfortunately, he stated that as the jets scrambled to look closer at the UFOs, they were ordered to “shoot first, and ask questions later.” Add that to Apollo 14 astronaut Edgar Mitchell's statement that, “yes, there has been crashed craft, and bodies recovered,” and we can deduce that the protocol, in the military at least, is to try and shoot these things down. That doesn't seem like a very intelligent approach.

This topic goes far beyond witness testimony from some very credible people; there is electrooptical data and physical evidence that has been associated with this phenomenon as well. These objects are not only seen by pilots, they're also tracked on radar.

Glowing Orbs Over Ireland

At least three pilots were involved in witnessing glowing orbs that were spotted near Shannon, Ireland at “astronomical” speeds,  according to the Guardian:

Other aircraft flying in the area reported the same thing. A pilot, flying a Virgin Airlines plane from Orlando to Manchester described the sight as a “meteor or another object making some kind of re-entry,” adding it seemed to be “multiple objects following the same sort of trajectory – very bright from where we were.” Another pilot also weighed in, saying: “Glad I'm not the only one.” A spokesman for the Irish Aviation Authority told the Irish Times it was investigating the incident and would file a report. “This report will be investigated under the normal confidential occurrence investigation process.”

There were multiple objects reports here, and meteors do not veer off at astronomical speeds. The pilots reported seeing one object become multiple objects, which is common in UFO lore. I've been studying the subject for more than a decade, so it didn't surprise me. Identifying this as a 'meteor' may comfort some people reading about this incident in the mainstream, because it fits within their current perception. But more and more people are having to face the fact that these incidents clearly do not fit within the mainstream paradigm of reality, and we really need to go through the discomfort of breaking this paradigm in our own minds if we hope to arrive at the truth of what is going on.

Other Incidents

There are many corroborating incidents out there of even more 'jaw-dropping' proportions, from the perspective of the pilots involved. With regards to commercial aviation, perhaps the most well-documented incident is the one that took place at O'Hare international airport. It caused a shutdown of the entire airport, similar to an incident that took place in China a few years ago.

Here's a quote from December 16th, 1978, issued by the Chilean Air Force with regards to a UFO encounter, similar to what the Pentagon released. Again, keep in mind, this is something that's happened thousands of times over the past few decades, and perhaps thousands of times every single year:

“Two pilots on a training mission, each flying an F5 fighter aircraft, tracked the object on their airborne radar. It gave a return equal to ten or more aircraft carriers-except this object was in the air, not floating on the water. Each pilot assumed his radar equipment was faulty until he learned that the other pilot was also getting the same return. Not only this, but ground radar from a nearby airport also picked up the object and confirmed its huge size. The pilots also saw the object with their own eyes. One pilot later said that at a distance of twenty miles, it looked “like a plantain banana swathed in smoke.” The pilots were frightened, having no missiles or weapons. As they approached the massive object, which had been motionless all this while, it took off at an unimaginable speed. All at once, it vanished from the three radar screens.”(1)(2)

This document from the CIA, relays several pieces of information, with the part about these UFOs highlighted in brackets, which suggests special attention was being paid to it. It goes to show just how interested they were in it, and how important this topic is within the intelligence community:

“ANTARCTIC FLYING SAUCERS” – A group of red, green, and yellow flying saucers has been seen flying over Deception Island for two hours by Argentine, Chilean and British bases (military) in Antarctica. The flying saucers were also seen flying in formation over the South Orkney islands in quick circles.”

We've written a number of articles about numerous UFO sightings. The point is, it's happening, but for decades we've been brushing a lot of these sightings off as natural phenomena, if we even hear about them. There are millions of pages of documents and thousands of examples like the ones above. They've been studying it for years under the guise of “national security,” a term now used to classify everything, but more and more we are learning that this is done to protect the interests of the global elite as well as allow them to basically do whatever they please, with justification.

The “Anchorage” Incident is a well known UFO event involving a veteran Japanese airline pilot who saw three UFOs following his 747 aircraft carrier for over 400 miles. One of the objects was much larger than the 747, while the other two were smaller. The crewmen of JAL Flight 1628 reported seeing flashing lights trailing their jet to the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA). FAA officials confirmed the conclusions drawn from the controller who handled Flight 1628 on his radar. His conclusion was that the aircraft were unidentified. Air Force officials at the Alaska Air Command also said their radar picked up something near the JAL plane. The United States Air Force scrambled a jet to get a closer look at the object. This incident occurred in 1986.

Below is an interview with retired FA Senior Division Chief, John Callahan. Check out his testimony below given to Dr. Steven Greer. He was directly involved with this incident, it is amazing to hear his story and the events that transpired because of it.

The Takeaway

The disclosure of the existence of UFOs has been confirmed around the world by multiple nations. Secrecy dominates our world, and important information about the nature of our reality is being kept from us. Not only that, but our own money is being taken from us to finance this continued secrecy. I recently wrote an article about a Michigan State University economist who headed up a group that found trillions of unaccounted-for dollars missing from housing & D.O.D. that were funnelled into black budget projects. You can read that here.

The implications of these revelations are huge and would result in huge changes in all areas of humanity. But one reason why secrecy has been so rampant is that powerful controlling forces don't want us to look closer and think critically about the nature of our reality, and about who we really are. The extraterrestrial hypothesis provides a valid explanation for some of the questions we are now asking, and it's getting more difficult to ignore the evidence for intelligent visitation like we used to. The sooner we are able to handle and process the evidence coming before us and its implications, the sooner we will live from a deeper understanding of ourselves and the nature of our universe.

Sources not linked within the article:

(1) Huneeus, J, Antonio, “A Chilean Overview,” MUFON UFO Journal, 6/86; Huneeus, J. Antonio, “A Historical Survey of UFO Cases in Chilie,” MUFON 1987 International Symposium Proceedings (MUFON, 1987.)

(2) Department of Defense JCS Message Center, Subject: B6/BAF Has a Close Encounter of the First Kind. Date: 20 May 86. Subject: Numerous Unidentified Objects Were Cited in the Skies over Brazil. But BAF Fighters Were Unable to Intercept Them. Berliner, Don, The UFO Briefing Document, p. 121-127. Huneeus, J. Antonio, “UFO Alert in Brazil,” MUFON UFO Journal, 11/86. Andrus, Walt, “UFOs Over Brazil,” MUFON UFO Journal, 9/86. Smith, Dr Willy, “The Brazillian Incident,” International UFO Reporter, 7-8/86. Smith, Dr. Willy, “More on Brazilian OVNIs,” MUFON UFO Journal, 9/86.

[takenews-blog1]

Meet The Wealthiest Plastic Surgeons And Their Superstar Purchasers

New Post has been published on https://takenews.net/meet-the-wealthiest-plastic-surgeons-and-their-superstar-purchasers/

Meet The Wealthiest Plastic Surgeons And Their Superstar Purchasers

After years upon years of medical faculty, it’s no shock that turning into a surgeon can internet a giant wage — in any case, these medical doctors maintain their sufferers’ lives of their arms day after day. And relating to essentially the most profitable specialities, plastics is excessive on the checklist — particularly in the event you’re a doc who needs to rake within the massive bucks. Being a plastic surgeon can imply lengthy days crammed with lipo therapies and tummy tucks, but it surely additionally means huge paychecks. Listed below are a number of the wealthiest plastic surgeons round who’re dwelling everybody’s dream life after they’re not at work. And having tons of celeb shoppers to unfold the phrase about how a lot they love their procedures can’t harm, both.

Formally, he’s Dr. Michael Salzhauer, however you most likely know him as Dr. Miami, particularly in the event you comply with him on social media. This man is known for broadcasting his surgical procedures on social media. This generally means we see acquainted faces, like Teen Mother 2 star Kailyn Lowry, getting a raise or two on Snapchat. Though he’s best-known for his “mommy makeovers,” Dr. Miami is on prime of every little thing. From trending procedures like Brazilian butt lifts to the previous standbys like liposuction and breast lifts, he does all of it. It helps when potential shoppers can see him working straight from their telephones earlier than they determine if they need him to be their doc!

Dr. Miami’s gained much more than clout since turning into a plastic surgeon. Lately, his internet value is someplace within the neighborhood of $1.eight million, and in the event you comply with him on Instagram, you possibly can inform. He’s continuously hanging out with celebs and taking unique holidays, like a visit to Dubai final yr. And though he’s made it massive, Dr. Miami has sincerely tried to not overlook the little folks. His workplace remains to be open to walk-ins sure days of the week (so long as you get there early!) and he tries to maintain his costs as reasonably priced as attainable… no less than, as reasonably priced as cosmetic surgery could be, anyway.

In the event you’ve ever heard of Botched, you’ve heard of Dr. Terry Dubrow. His internet value is estimated to be about $30 million, and after contemplating the sort of profession he’s had, it’s simple to see how the cash began piling up. This man has been throughout actuality TV, even engaged on Fox’s short-lived present The Swan, however he’s higher recognized for fixing different surgeon’s errors on Botched. Whereas engaged on the present, Dr. Dubrow additionally started working with many celeb shoppers, together with Janice Dickinson, Farrah Abraham, and the Shannon twins, fixing main surgical procedure errors that left them sad with their look.

In the event you’re not satisfied by Dr. Dubrow’s wealth, all you must do is watch Actual Housewives of Orange County, the place his spouse Heather Dubrow is a part of the forged. And though a lot of the images he shares on Instagram depict his household life, Terry’s account is proof constructive that he’s actually having fun with his wealth. Each shot that features the interiors of his house is proof that he and Heather actually reside of their dream home, and he’s been busy happening every kind of holidays and adventures. Dr. Dubrow, can we please be part of your loved ones? We all know you have got a variety of children already, however we wish in.

Since becoming a member of Superstar Plastic Surgeons of Beverly Hills, Dr. Sands is gaining tons of fame for his beauty dentistry work, which is a little bit completely different than what most pliable surgeons do. Nevertheless, his affected person checklist consists of somany celebrities, tons of whom he’s shared images with on his web site. The checklist ranges from Justin Bieber to Kris and Kendall Jenner, and he’s even labored on Paris Hilton and Wiz Khalifa. And in the event you thought work like this may get him a hefty paycheck, you’re proper. Proper now, his internet value is someplace round $four.5 million, which is far more than most dentists make, for the file.

Currently, Dr. Sands’ work has been all over, together with TV exhibits and in magazines like Cosmopolitan and The Hollywood Reporter. In the event you’re not following him on Instagram already, you must — his complete account principally acts as a portfolio of all of the well-known mouths he’s had his arms in. Plus, when he’s not working, it looks as if Dr. Sands actually enjoys his off time on vacay and attending glamorous occasions. And Kim Kardashian and Kanye West even despatched him a pair of Yeezy Boosts. If that’s not a purpose to get into this entire beauty trade, what’s?

Dr. Robert Rey Is Actuality Well-known

In the event you’ve observed a sample of loaded plastic surgeons additionally being a part of actuality exhibits, you’re onto one thing. The 2 issues appear to go hand in hand, particularly relating to their capability to draw celeb shoppers. Within the case of Robert Rey, who has appeared on tons of speak exhibits (and even in commercials), he’s finest recognized for his work on Dr. 90210 in addition to The Superstar Plastic Surgeons of Beverly Hills. Final yr, a report got here out claiming that Robert is planning on writing a tell-all the place he dishes on the filth on his celeb shoppers and their procedures, which might be actually attention-grabbing.

Apparently, in Robert’s e book, he’ll clarify that he’s labored on celebrities in addition to the wives of political leaders and athletes, though he’s not allowed to call names as a consequence of confidentiality. Not that he must be anxious about that affecting e book gross sales; Robert’s already constructed up fairly a stream of wealth himself. His internet value is estimated to be round $15 million, which is a undeniable fact that makes itself clear on his Instagram; he’s all the time consuming yummy meals, visiting his native Brazil, and filming for one TV present or one other. If you wish to reside a life like his, be a plastic surgeon — that is the lesson we’re all studying right here.

Dr. Ourian’s identify may sound unfamiliar to you, however the names of the folks he’s accomplished work on received’t. In reality, Dr. Ourian is the person liable for crafting Kylie Jenner’s lips — the identical ones she first claimed have been merely the results of utilizing a little bit extra lip liner than common. And it’s not simply Kylie who places her face in his arms, both; the remainder of her household has, too. Khloé and Kim have each labored with him, and whereas speaking to Khloé for an interview, he mentioned, “Kim may be very detail-oriented and is aware of precisely what she needs and wishes, so after I work on her, it’s like working with a colleague and I actually take pleasure in it.”

Founding his personal clinic — the Epione Clinic in Beverly Hills — and forging a bond with one of the vital well-known households within the nation (if not the world) has critically paid off for Dr. Ourian. His internet value isn’t available, however the prices of his companies are greater than sufficient to show that he’s raking within the dough. And simply in case you’re questioning in the event you ought to use the Kardashians’ favourite doc to your subsequent surgical procedure, nicely… possibly begin saving up. A butt raise alone may very well be accomplished for as a lot as $20,000. However hey, doing it his manner has secured him an invitation to events at Kris Jenner’s home, so possibly the remainder of us have to go to med faculty?

Dr. Garth Fisher Does Excessive Makeovers

In the event you’ve ever seen Excessive Makeover, you’ve most likely seen Dr. Garth Fisher, the surgeon available to carry out the pores and skin removing surgical procedures that always happen after the bodily and food regimen work has been accomplished. And because of his expertise, he’s raking within the massive bucks. His internet value is round $15 million, and he’s had tons of celeb shoppers, He’s labored with the Kardashians previously, in addition to with different actuality stars like Holly Madison and Kendra Wilkinson. For essentially the most half, he chooses to maintain his well-known sufferers personal… except, after all, he finally ends up showing on their exhibits.

And talking of that $15 million… he’s dwelling the life. He regularly seems on exhibits like The Medical doctors and attends unique occasions, and though on his Instagram, Garth focuses largely on his profession and the work that he does as a surgeon, it’s additionally simple to see that he’s having fun with his cash. In any case, he just lately opened one other spa in Beverly Hills so it looks as if this man is doing fairly nicely for himself. He’s been spending weekends away, and events with celebs like Mariah Carey. Oh, and his follow generally sends personal jets to choose up his clientele, if that tells you something.

Right here’s one other physician in Miami who isn’t Dr. Miami… however he does occur to be yet one more husband from the Actual Housewives franchise. Dr. Leonard Hochstein hails from Russia and owns his personal follow, Hochstein Med Spa. He has raked in a internet value of no less than $20 million. And on prime of that, he’s so famend for his breast implants that he’s referred to as the Boob God. What a title! And to that time, his Instagram is overflowing with images of the work he’s accomplished, in addition to exhibiting the sturdiness of his implants… like he did in a single video the place he ran over an implant with a automotive to indicate that it didn’t burst. That’s fairly spectacular.

Like a lot of his profitable surgical procedure friends, Dr. Hochstein has additionally appeared on actuality TV — and never simply on Actual Housewives. He starred in E!’s Beneath The Knife, and his web site boasts his celeb clientele, a roster that’s populated largely by varied fashions and Playboy Playmates. It’s no shock that he’s making the large bucks right this moment, although — he’s been at this some time with greater than 15 years of surgical procedure below his belt. He and his spouse Lisa can typically be discovered taking unique holidays and in the event you comply with her on Instagram, you already know that she’s well-taken care of.

After working with Dr. Dubrow on Botched, Dr. Paul Nassif is understood for with the ability to craft the right nostril, and it’s simple to see why he’s discovered a lot success. Situated in Beverly Hills, he’s labored on celeb shoppers proper alongside Dr. Dubrow in addition to on his personal — and even from his not so well-known sufferers, he’s garnered nothing however rave opinions. He’s finest recognized for his facelifts and rhinoplasty, and in addition provides varied pores and skin procedures like fillers and Botox. He’s additionally been featured on Dr. 90210… and, sure, he was married to Actual Housewives star Adrienne Maloof.

Based on Superstar Web Value, Dr. Nassif is at the moment value about $14 million… not too shabby! And so far as his time away from the knife goes, social media makes it appear to be he’s loving his life, what with all of his touring (he went to Alaska final yr!) and exhibiting off that that fairly black Tesla he purchased himself for his birthday. Mainly, all of those actual housewives are instructing us one factor: in the event you’re not a plastic surgeon your self, it’s best to most likely simply marry one. Sadly, it looks as if, regardless of his divorce from Adrienne, Dr. Nassif is as soon as once more taken.

Dr. Baron is making her mark — particularly after she made her debut on Lifetime’s Atlanta Plastics. After surviving most cancers herself, Dr. Baron’s fundamental mission is to make ladies really feel comfy in their very own physique, and she or he makes a speciality of giving mothers their figures again after being pregnant and childbirth have taken their toll. She solely joined the forged of Atlanta Plastics in 2016, however her internet value is steadily rising. Lately, it’s round $550,000 which is unquestionably spectacular. Her profession is formally taking off, and it looks as if she’s inspiring so many individuals alongside the way in which.

Based on her Instagram, Dr. Baron is extremely obsessed with what she does for a dwelling, and that profession permits her to reside a life that the majority of us can solely dream of. When she’s not spending time together with her cute child, Dr. Baron is at tons of occasions — her schedule is jam-packed! And recently, it looks as if she’s been reserving tons of appearances and talking engagements. After every little thing she’s achieved, who wouldn’t wish to hear her communicate?! Oh, and for the file, it looks as if she’s all the time getting flowers from her hubby at work. How candy is that?!

Dr. Omidi and his work have been everywhere in the map. So if he appears acquainted, that’s why. With a internet value of greater than $three billion, he’s positively one of many wealthiest plastic surgeons ever, and he’s recognized for his craniofacial work and correcting cleft palates and burn accidents. About 10 years in the past, he bumped into some main hassle when he did work at an unaccredited facility and was positioned on probation for 3 years, again when he and his brother, Julian, have been on Dr. 90210. And sadly, that wasn’t the top of his issues, as a result of he and his brother have run into hassle since then.

Not too way back, Michael and Julian’s lap band enterprise, 1-800-GETTHIN was raking in additional than $20 million monthly till that every one got here to a halt after no less than 5 of their former sufferers died in a three-year time period, together with one whose liver was lacerated throughout the process. A significant investigation adopted, and it doesn’t appear to have come to an actual conclusion but. However to this point, these blemishes on his resume don’t appear to have impacted his earnings — or the reward he’s present in his profession since. On-line, Dr. Omidi nonetheless will get rave opinions from his shoppers, so he have to be doing one thing proper.

[junker-town]

3 things to watch for in USWNT vs. Canada

North America’s two best teams challenge themselves in a pair of games this week, and both are making changes to their squads.

The United States women’s national team is back in action on Thursday for the first of two games against its biggest North American rival — Canada. The first match is in Vancouver, and the second is in San Jose on Sunday.

USWNT coach Jill Ellis will be happy about her team taking a slight step up in competition after four relatively easy wins in recent matches. Over the course of the four games against New Zealand and South Korea, the Americans won by a cumulative score of 17-2. The Canadians, ranked No. 5 in the world by FIFA, aren’t likely to be blown out easily.

Morgan Brian, Tobin Heath and Mallory Pugh and won’t play in these games for fitness reasons, while Crystal Dunn has been left at Chelsea so she doesn’t miss any of their Champions League games. Most of your favorites are on the roster, but there are some new faces too.

Here’s what to watch for on Thursday night.

Say hi to four new(ish) defenders

The USWNT’s long-time starting fullbacks, Ali Krieger and Meghan Klingenberg, have had their roles reduced considerably in 2017. It’s unclear if they’ll play any part in the team going forward. With the World Cup two years away, Ellis is experimenting with some new players at fullback. All of them are converted wingers who are very fast.

Taylor Smith is the most advanced of the group, having made the switch to fullback nearly full-time at club level for North Carolina Courage. Chioma Ubogagu and Sofia Huerta, on the other hand, are going to need a lot of playing time in defense between now and the World Cup to have a chance of making a serious impact at that position. Both are starting wingers for their club teams and have very little experience playing at the back.

There are three big reasons Ellis is pursuing this strategy. The USWNT can significantly out-possess most opponents, it has a lot of wingers that like cutting inside, and it has central defenders who are adept at winning one-on-one battles in space in the event of bad turnovers by the American midfield. That’s why Ellis is looking for fullbacks who can bomb forward and get crosses into the box rather than ones who are great at defending. Ellis is also an excellent defensive coach, and clearly has faith in her own abilities to turn great athletes with minimal experience at fullback into competent defenders.

And while Becky Sauerbrunn and Abby Dahlkemper appear to be the first choice central defense pair, there’s also some new competition for spots in the middle. Emily Sonnett, who was left out of the team for much of 2017 after a shaky start to her pro career, has been recalled after improving significantly in the second half of this NWSL season. She’s one of the most athletic and technically solid center backs in the player pool, so she’ll be a massive asset to the USWNT if she’s improved her mental game and continues to avoid individual errors.

USWNT midfield from weakness to strength?

Since the 2012 Olympics, the USWNT has struggled to replace Shannon Boxx in midfield. Ellis and Tom Sermanni have tried to convert a number of attacking and box-to-box players into holding midfielders, with most of those players having trouble adapting to that role. But Ellis appears to have found a solution in Julie Ertz, who has been spectacular since her move into the middle.

Ertz played midfield in college, but was converted to center back as a professional and excelled in the role at the 2015 World Cup. Despite her great play at the position, though, her ability to win the ball by stepping forward and closing down aggressively was always her best trait as a player. That’s a quality better suited for defensive midfield than center back, so both Ellis and her club coach Rory Dames elected to move Ertz back to her original position, and it appears she’ll continue to occupy that role for the foreseeable future.

The potential partners for Ertz are also much more defensively sound than their predecessors as well. While Allie Long struggled as a No. 6, she’s a very effective player next to a true holder. Sam Mewis and Andi Sullivan are great passers whose primary role is facilitating attacks, but they’re both positionally sound and help prevent dangerous counter-attacks as well.

Despite having some of the world’s best talent at goalkeeper, defense and striker, the USWNT has failed to live up to its potential due to a lack of good tactical fits at midfield for most of the last five years. That position might now be the team’s deepest and most settled.

Do Canada’s teenagers get a shot?

19-year-old Jessie Fleming and 18-year-old Deanne Rose are already established fixtures in Canada’s team. But there are four more teenagers who might see some playing time over these two friendlies against the USWNT.

The most notable is 16-year-old attacker Jordyn Huitema, who already has two goals for the senior national team. But defenders Jayde Riviere and Ariel Young, as well as midfielder Julia Grosso, have also been called up. With regulars like Kadeisha Buchanan, Sophie Schmidt and Diana Matheson not in this squad, all of them might get chances to play.

With the impact that Fleming and Rose have already made on the CanWNT, it appears that the Canadians might be slowly but surely catching up to the Americans in talent development. And apparently, Canada’s coaching staff has faith that some other young players can already make the step up to this level.

Match date/time: Thursday, 10 p.m. ET

Venue: BC Place, Vancouver

TV: ESPN2

Online: Watch ESPN

Make friends: Check out U.S. Soccer blog Stars And Stripes FC.