#there is a reason izzy took me over in january

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Get Ready Game

CW: Young children of rescued whumpee, referenced past child abuse, referenced past emotional abuse. CW for child’s trauma response/PTSD, Overcompetent Emotional and Logistical Support Oldest Daughter X 100, unhealthy coping mechanisms

@comfy-whumpee‘s Jax Gallagher successfully saved his children (and himself) from Savannah Marcoset. But Izzy, now nearly seven, remembers her mother very well still, and knows that if her father doesn’t yet feel safe, she shouldn’t either.

So she makes a plan.

---

Izzy finds her brother playing blocks in the living room, half-heartedly building a tower while his eyes are on the cartoon show playing on the telly. She glances side to side - Dad's at therapy, only left a little bit ago. There's ages of time before he comes back, and he’ll be all in his head and distracted but probably he’ll want to lay down, so if she wants to do this, she’d better do it while he’s gone.

“Jamie?”

“Hm?” Her brother doesn’t look away from the show, but he kind of tilts his head in her direction. He’s younger than she is, only four and can’t read yet. But he doesn’t have to, she can do the reading for them both. She reads at a high level, her teacher says. Izzy practices every single night, she’s the best reader in class. 

She has to be.

“Where’s Grandpa, d’you know?”

Jamie points to the side. “In the, um, in the kitchen-”

“Sssshhhh! Quiet, don’t let him hear I asked.” Izzy puts out both hands, and now she has her brother’s interest. He loves having secrets with her, special kids-only things. It’s why this works, why she can teach him what they need to do, just in case, without him running off to tell Dad or Grandpa right away. 

She goes quiet, listening. She can hear Alfie’s voice, low, murmuring. He stays home on the days her dad has to go to therapy, so Jax can go and then come back and lay down in his room without having to worry. 

Grandpa will be talking, probably with some tea in hand, and he won’t overhear them. It’s perfect timing. Dad at therapy and Grandpa on the phone, maybe for a long time. 

“Hey, Jamie,” Izzy says, keeping her voice carefully casual. “You want to play Get Ready with me?”

Her little brother brightens. Izzy isn’t the best at his kind of play, rough-housing or throwing things around, playing Daddy-and-Baby with the big soft dolls he’s given all sorts of odd names to. Izzy doesn’t like playing baby-holding games, and besides that she doesn’t like how loud he is about it. She’s too quiet, too prone to sitting very still or whisper-talking her way through pretend games about princesses that Jamie doesn’t find interesting at all.

But this game… this game, he likes. 

He knows it’s important, even if he doesn’t know why. He knows his big sister is trusting him with big important things, and not being irritated by him or pushing him away. James scrambles up onto his feet, accidentally kicking his little tower of blocks over in the process. Both of them freeze at the crash.

Alfie’s voice rumbles through from the kitchen. “You all right in there, Jamie?”

“I’m good! I just knocked over my blocks, is all! Can I watch one more show?” Jamie pitches his voice just right, and Izzy’s proud of him. He’s learning all the tricks, and he’s doing it without having to be scared first, without it having to be something he has to learn. 

“All right, one more,” Alfie calls back, and Jamie grins, giving Izzy an exaggerated finger over his lips. Izzy grins right back, one of her top teeth growing in still, one of the bottom ones flat out missing entirely, she only lost that one three days ago, wiggling it in class until it came right out. The two of them move out of the room and down the hallway, almost tip-toeing in their bare feet, listening to Alfie’s voice, on high alert for him to make his goodbyes. 

They make it back to the bedroom Izzy still shares with her father - two twin beds lined up in there, and Alfie’s been talking about moving to get Izzy her own room, but Izzy never feels safer than waking up from a nightmare to still be able to hear her father’s gentle, deep breathing nearby. Jax’s bed has dark blue blankets and Izzy’s has a deep purple fuzzy one, plus special sheets she picked out herself with unicorns on them.

“Okay, Jamie,” Izzy says in her stage whisper. Her brother’s eyes lock on hers, hazel-brown like they all have, but Jamie has Jax’s hair color and Izzy’s short, spiky hair is the same deep chocolate brown as her mother’s, reminders she can’t escape, only try to cut off short enough that she can’t see it. “How does Get Ready start?”

Jamie’s smile widens further. He knows this one right away. “We meet in the hallway outside your room,” He says, very seriously. “Then… we come in here and find the Get Ready bag,” He answers, eyes already shifting to the closet, where it was the last time they played.

“Nope, not there.” Jamie looks at her, confused. “It’s okay, Dad did something in the closet last week so I moved the bag, just in case. I don’t think he found it, though, I hid it really well. Can you think of where I might hide it now?” She lilts her voice, slightly sing-song, like her teachers do at school. 

Jamie looks slowly around the room, taking in every detail - the window with the curtains pulled to make it dim, the two beds with the table between them, a lamp. Dresser messy on top with things tossed there - receipts, interesting rocks that Izzy has found and kept and given to her father. Then he nods, firmly, to himself more than her, and points under her bed. “It’s there.”

“Are you sure?” Izzy asks, still in teacher-voice.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because… because, because you would want to get it fast if you woke up, and you can roll under your bed for hiding from Mom,” Jamie explains. He sounds very earnest, and Izzy smiles at him to reward him giving it so much thought.

“Go look and see if you’re right.”

Jamie walks over to her bed and drops down onto his hands and knees, looking underneath. He pulls out a stuffed-full old, raggedy-looking adult-sized backpack, a faded gray that might once have been black, some old band patches and button badges still stuck around the outside. “I was right! I was right, Izzy, I found our get-ready bag!”

His voice is too loud, and Izzy shushes him quickly, closing the still-open bedroom door. Grandpa won’t like it, they’re not really supposed to close doors to shut out grown-ups, but this is too important. “Good job, Jamie!” She says in a high sotto-voice. “You are right. So, if I wake you up and I say, we have to get ready, what do we do?”

“We grab our Get Ready bag,” Jamie answers, all seriousness, patting the top of the bag gently with one small hand. “And we hide, inside the back of the closet in the big box. Then, when it’s safe, we go outside.”

“Right. How can we go outside if Mom is in the living room, though?”

Jamie’s eyes go to the window, and he points. “We go out the window,” He answers, and when she nods, he gets a little braver and adds on. “There’s-... fire escape, out there. Like stairs made of metal. We climb down with our bag. You know how to unlock the window.”

“Good. Right, I do.” She’d had to work out the trick to the window over days when no one was around her, fiddling and messing and making her fingers ache until one day, she’d managed it just right. Child proof my butt, she’d thought, but then she knew she wasn’t as child-y as everyone else her age seemed to be. 

Everyone else didn’t have to be ready for what would happen if their mother came back. Everyone else didn’t still dream about their father begging their mother to stop. Everyone else couldn’t still remember, a little bit, screaming-

Well. 

Everyone else might not have a Get Ready bag, or play this game, but she did. And when it happened, she’d be ready. Even though she knows the grown-ups wouldn’t want her to do this, they’ll be glad when it’s time, when she does what her dad would do in her place and takes James and runs. He’ll understand, if she has to, and he’ll be proud of her for being ready. He will. 

She just can’t tell him ahead of time. 

Izzy drops down into a crouch and hugs James tight. His hair smells like strawberry kids’ shampoo, just like hers does, and he’s very warm and his hands are always sticky, even when he hasn’t been touching any sticky things. “You remember very well, Jamie. Do you remember what’s in our Get Ready bag?”

She pulls back, and Jamie presses his lips together in deep thought, tapping on his chin in an overexaggerated ‘thinking’ expression. “Toothbrushes,” He says, finally. “Mine has Wally Lizard on it.”

“And?” 

“And toothpaste, the kid toothpaste.”

She’d spent weeks and weeks getting enough - putting a little extra in a baggie every night, so that her dad and grandpa wouldn’t know she was taking more than she needed. There was enough now for she and James to last a while. “Perfect. What else?”

“Ummmmm…” He trails off, sitting on the floor and thinking about it. “There’s pull-up nappies, for me for sleeping, and underpants for both of us, and pants and shirts and Franken-puppy and Unicorn, and the black-and-white bear from the zoo-”

“Paulie Panda,” Izzy corrects.

“Paulie Panda. And also Monkey George. Um um um um there are juice boxes, and Monster Munch, and Jaffa cakes, and that thing with the nuts in I don’t like, and chocolate biscuits… Aaaaand books, and…” He stops and frowns. “I don’t remember what else.”

“No, that’s good, that’s better than last time. You’re doing great.” He puffs out his chest a little in pride, and Izzy smiles, settling down to sit with him, the two of them tucked in the space between the twin beds. “There’s also hair-combs, and some shampoo and soap in a bag I nicked from the shop.”

Jamie’s eyes widen, big as saucers. “You didn’t. That is taking, Izzy-bella, and taking without paying is wrong.”

“I gave them money for it,” Izzy says, dismissive, ignoring the prickle of guilt inside her chest, too hot and sharp not to feel at least a little. “I put some of Dad’s money on the counter when nobody was looking the next day. It wasn’t really nicking, I just didn’t want him to see me get it and have to explain. But also in the bag is… this.” She digs into a front pocket and pulls out a bunch of index cards scrawled with careful child’s handwriting, numbers and letters she had spent hours and hours on. “Do you remember what these are?”

Jamie looks down at them, cocking his head, then looks up and shakes it, side to side. His hair is longer than hers is. 

“These,” Izzy says, “are the most important thing of all. These are our numbers. I’ve got about three where I remember them without even having to look, but I’ll get the rest, too. The first card has Grandpa’s phone number, and Dad’s, and it has Nana’s and Auntie Poppy and Auntie Georgia’s, too. Plus the number for Nana’s favorite shop, because her friend works there and her friend could help us get to her if she isn't home. For starters, I’ll say one that you know. We know that if-... that if Mom comes back, Grandpa will probably get-...” She takes a deep breath, tells herself to act more like a grown-up, forces down the panic and fear and worry in her chest, pictures it curled into a ball and thrown in the back of her closet to gather dust. I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid. “Grandpa could get hurt and not be able to help us. So, what do we do when we get out on the street or run away from here?”

“We, um, we find grown-ups, and we… we ask them to call 9-9-9, and tell them our names and our dad’s name, and we say, our dad is in danger and needs help. Then we tell them Nana’s name, or anybody else’s.”

“Good. Really good. What do we do if she gets us and takes us back to America?”

James swallows - this part scares him, just a little. He doesn’t remember America, not really. He was only a baby. And he remembers it being a fun place for a holiday, from the trial. But he knows Izzy is scared of America, scared enough to wake up at night crying because she dreamed about going back, and so he is, too. “We find a phone,” He says, very soft and very slow. “And we push the numbers 9, 1, 1. And that will go to people who will help us in America.”

“Good, good job, Jamie. What do we say when they pick up?” They’ve rehearsed this, over and over again. It’s the most important part of the Get Ready game. 

“I say… ‘my name is James Timothy Gallagher, and I have been ab-... abd… I have been kidnapped.’”

“Perfect. And if it were me, I would say, ‘My name is Isabella Nicole Gallagher, and I have been abducted. I am six and three quarters years old and my brother James is with me and he is four, and we are English.’ Then what?”

“We say, um, we say our… our dad is Jackson Gallagher and he has been kidnapped too, probably, and he needs help. And Savannah M-... Mark-set-”

“Marcoset,” Izzy says quietly, sounding out each syllable for him.

“Mar-co-set… is who took him. Then… we wait for help to come.”

Izzy nods, and she rifles through the flashcards, scanning over the names and places and numbers she has carefully, painstakingly, been writing down while casually asking the librarian question after question. How to call emergency services in England, America, Canada, France, Russia, and the country Georgia. Her information, to hand to people, so she won’t have to repeat herself, is copied on six cards. 

Under the flashcards, a photo of she and her dad and James that Grandpa took, at the park. It’s a photo where her dad is smiling, and he doesn’t look scared or upset or closed-off. Just happy, with them. It’s the photo she wants to have to show the police officers who she has to hope will help them. 

It’s the photo she’ll have if…

“What do we do,” She asks, and her voice is thinner, trembles just a little. “What do we do if she takes him away and we get left behind?” 

James crawls over to her in a flash and holds on, putting his arms around her waist and tucking his head under her chin. His hair tickles under her jaw. “We go all by ourselves,” He answers, in his high voice. “You and me, Izzy and Jamie. We go by ourselves, and we go find Nana.”

“Right.” Izzy closes her eyes against a rush of heat, of tears. “I-I have a card-” Her voice catches and she clears her throat. “Dusty in here,” She says, hoarsely - her grandpa says that sometimes when he’s pretending he’s not teary - and forces her racing heart to calm. Stop it. If Dad is gone, you have to be the grown-up, then. When she finally speaks, she manages to keep her voice slow, and even. No sign of her fears at all. “I have a card with Nana’s whole name and address on it, and which buses we take to see her. We can-... we can do it ourselves, all by ourselves. I know we can. But-... you have to be very good and quiet, so we don’t make anyone look at us and the bad guys can’t find us.”

“So Mom can’t find us,” Jamie whispers.

She nods, chin moving against his hair. “Right. We have to go very fast, and be very very quiet, so Mom can’t find us. But with our Get Ready bag, we have everything we need, if Dad-... if dad can’t help us. Okay, last question for our game and then we’ll be done. Do we tell Dad or Grandpa about Get Ready?”

“No.” Jamie answers right away, immediate. He knows this one. “Because, because they… might tell Mom about it.”

“Right. Even if they don’t want to tell her, she might be super mean and hurt them lots to make them. She used to hurt Dad until he would tell her things she wanted to hear, before, and she’ll be even madder now. But… if we don’t tell them about Get Ready, then they can’t tell her, right? So we can go find Nana before Mom does, and if Mom gets to Nana before we can, we have food and everything for a few days until the police officers help us.” Izzy holds him tightly, resting her chin against his hair. “I’ll take care of you, James. I promise, I won’t ever let her hurt you.”

“Dad won’t let her hurt us neither,” Jamie answers, but he likes the cuddles, and he doesn’t pull away. Izzy doesn’t hold him very often. 

“No, I know. I know he won’t. But… if he can’t stop her…” Izzy sets her jaw, closes her eyes against the memory of the bright red spots layered over older scars around her father’s neck when his big black necklace first came off. “If he can’t… I can. I just have to be very strong, and very smart, smarter than she is even. I have to be smarter than all the bad grownups.”

“And I have to be quiet and brave.”

“Right. And you’ll be very good at it. I know you will.” She squeezes him, so tightly both of them ache, and then pulls back and away, shoving the backpack back into its hiding spot, opening the bedroom door. The two of them get back to the living room just as their grandpa’s phone call finishes in the kitchen, and by the time he comes back in to ask them what they want for snacktime, James is back building his tower of blocks, and Izzy pretends she’s been on the couch with her chapter book the whole time, sitting open in her lap.

She doesn’t realize she opened it upside down until her grandpa’s gone back in the kitchen to get their snacks ready, and she flushes, embarrassed at the stupid mistake.

Still, she’s… she’s pretty sure he didn’t notice.

Every time they play, James remembers a little more without her having to tell him. Maybe… when their mom comes for them… Izzy can save Jamie - and then get help to save her father. 

And he'll be proud of her.

He will.

----

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @wildfaewhump @whumpiary @whump-tr0pes @moose-teeth @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @vickytokio @eatyourdamnpears

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Moth Work Intro + False Idol | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth! 

Today I thought I’d do a writing update on a project I’ve mentioned a lot in my vlogs but haven’t mentioned as of yet on here! This is a personal ‘passion project’ that I’ve been picking away at since January and have recently taken on as my transition project from Rewired to my next book.

So yee! MOTH WORK (or ‘boys on a boat’ for those who keep up with the vlogs lols) has been my current project for the last few weeks since finishing REWIRED. I didn’t really mean to expand it as much as I have as it simply started off as a spinoff story of my boys Lonan and Harrison which I write every few months when I’m having a breakdown and need something to cheer me up. :-)

I’ve mentioned a few of these stories in the past (like Fishbowl and Mandarin), though this story is a bit different, as I’ve expanded it quite a lot more than I intended to! If you aren’t super caught up with Rewired, I’d definitely scroll through a few of my last updates so this one will make more sense! 

What’s it about? 

Moth Work is a FOSTERED spinoff story following Lonan and Harrison (dumb+dumber) at the peak of their relationship. I *was saying* that the plot went loosely as follows: after finding a photograph of a woman in Lonan’s father’s dark room, they set out to find her, HOWEVER, because I never stick to plans, I have yet to follow through with this main plot thread, lol. Vaguely, I’d just say the most important part of this story is their relationship at its most fragile because who is plot I don’t know her. 

Moth Work follows the events after REWIRED, and is a bit of a bridge between it and the next book. This makes it kind of hard to explain because a) it’s in a different POV, and b) context, but hopefully that makes sense! In essence: Lonan + Harrison’s relationship is big sad and Harrison tries to make it less big sad and it gets even more big sad. 

I’ll share a very quick profile of both of the boys so there’s some context for the following excerpts I’ll share!

Harrison

My boy

Generally very outgoing, tho around Lonan this fizzles. Only wants the best for Lonan despite their history. He’s the ‘main’ narrator of the piece (third limited to him though I’m guilty of head hopping lol), so the work has a softer tone than I’m used to. Though Harrison tries to be a Macho Man, around Lonan he’s most himself--mellow, a lil stupidly romantic, and vulnerable. 

Lonan

My problematic son/probably should be cancelled 

The “issue” in the relationship loool. He’s emotionally immature and lacks accountability, but because of his past, lacks the ability to recognize these faults and work on them. Because of this, he’s fundamentally stayed the same for the last few works he’s been in (if not gotten worse). Lonan requires a lot of emotional assistance, though he isn’t self-aware enough to recognize this. This is often the cause of much conflict. 

Conception:

Like I mentioned, I often write short spinoff stories following these boys because it’s a safe happy place for when I’m feeling stressed. This is basically how this piece started, though I’ve continued it for different reasons which I’ll get into. I don’t remember how the first scene was brainstormed, but I do know when I started writing this a few months ago, I wanted it to be a lot longer than my previous stories--a place where I could just dump my writing, even when it wasn’t good. I think I did this to cope with the stress of my writing class honestly, lol, I think I needed a break from ‘serious’ writing AKA a place I could just goof off and have some fun. 

The writing bit: 

Writing this story has been a bit inconsistent. I’ve been drafting it in little pieces since the beginning of the year, and only recently picked it up as more of a ‘full-time’ work. This is subject to change depending on whether or not I get more of book 7 done. I’ve gone from writing 20 words a day to 0 to 1000--there’s really no consistency with the drafting process here. 

I have recently decided that I’ll most likely expand this into either a novella or novel itself because there is literally so much tea left to explore and it’s surpassed 10k words. Drafting Moth Work has been so helpful in easing me back into the world of FOSTERED and piecing together the huge time gap from the end of book 6 to the start of book 7. I’ve been a bit anxious to really dive into book 7 for the fear of the unknown, so inching myself closer to that timeline through this project has been very helpful!

The editing bit:

I recently did an edit around the line level for this entire piece (it’s about 12k words right now) because a) it really needed it b) I was losing steam/starting to get embarrassed and c) I needed a refresher of what had happened because je suis tres forgetful. This edit made me feel so much better about the project. It initially started off as a work where the writing didn’t actually matter and this mentality was working until I got so embarrassed of the prose I found it difficult to read through old scenes to refresh myself and thus couldn’t productively draft. 

This project isn’t written exactly in my usual style--it’s pretty stripped back and actually reminds me a lot of how my style would’ve been in book 3 had I been a better writer four years ago lol. I think the looser style works for the voice/the story itself but I def wouldn’t categorize this as litfic (what I usually write). Although the prose isn’t very complex, it took me a really long time to get comfortable enough to edit?? But once I got into the rhythm of it a few days ago, I completed the edit fairly quickly, and I’m 100% feeling better about the project overall! Though the prose is still not my top priority I’m not as embarrassed of it currently lols. 

I also divided the project into chapters because it was getting pretty long to just be one mass of text. I currently have 3 chapters. This update will cover chapter 1. 

Playlist:

Yo this is literally the best part of writing this project, lol, I get to listen to so much different music?? I’ve made a comprehensive playlist for this story with a character by character breakdown (if anyone wants to see that/highlights, let me know!). This playlist pulls from every song from my library, so we span genres and artists like crazy. Nothing But Thieves has been the primary artist for this story (specifically their self-titled album). These songs (all NBT oop) are the most relevant if you want to get the general tone lol (anything with a star has explicitly inspired the project):

Excuse Me*

Honey Whiskey*

Tempt You (Evocatio)*

If I Get High (II)

Gods

Lover, Please Stay*

I Was Just A Kid*

Get Better

Hell, Yeah*

Afterlife

Reset Me

Particles

Sorry

Number 13

Excerpts:

I don’t have *many* because prose hasn’t really been a top priority for this project, but I’ll try to include at least one per scene. 

This is one of the opening paragraphs from chapter one which I’ve titled ‘False Idol’. In short, the chapter follows the boys first attempting to destroy the dark room and then getting distracted and eventually not pulling through after Harrison finds a picture of Ominous Lady. 

The chapter’s chronology is wild so we can break it up as follows:

Scene A

The boys enter the dark room with the intention of burning it down

Harrison reaches for his lighter and drops it which prompts him to find the photograph of Ominous Lady

Him and Lonan mildly argue about Ominous Lady until Lonan takes it too seriously and throws a tantrum :-DD

Scene B

Not really a full scene, just a bridge between scene A and C.

Harrison has been waiting for Lonan to return to their campsite for the entire day and he decides to at the very last moment

“hey so i’m unable to apologize for anything but also! cigarette! let’s share it! lungs!” 

Scene C

The boys exercising their canoeing skills

This leads us to our first “beat”.

Lonan interrupts Harrison’s peaceful evening by having a mild crisis

This takes place right after the events of Lolita, Lolita (chapter 16 of REWIRED). We then jump back to the fictive present.

 This alternates like 5 more times lol then the chapter is done!

The following excerpt describes their entry into the dark room. Don’t know how smart it is to be smoking in a room full of highly flammable material but we out here.

I don’t think she’s particularly special but I also don’t hate her so!! hoping an aesthetic photo will make it read better :’)) I ! don’t ! think ! it does ! but !

Harrison shoulders the door first, traps it open with the clip of his boot. Dust and streaks of light rake behind him as he pushes through cardboard boxes, mountains of photo paper on the ground. Lonan follows silently, still wearing Harrison’s jacket. Trails of smoke from his cigarette catch in the negatives hanging by the clothespins, chemical peel between the layers of ink. In one hand he tends to his cigarette, and in the next, lugs in the canister of gasoline they found in the cabin’s cellar. As Harrison fumbles for his flashlight, Lonan sets it down by the table so it sloshes like the Pacific. 

This is a bit of when Harrison finds the photograph of Ominous Lady:

He turns the photograph over, and shines the flashlight on it. It’s scratched and developed wrong, little bits of orange obscuring the woman’s face, but it’s very much a woman. A dark bob and bangs in her eyes, jewelry hanging from her septum. Sunshades enough to reflect the European street behind her. The discreet jet of ink on her skin, blues and greens peeking out from under her sleeve. Izzy, he recognizes. Lonan’s mother. 

Nudging Lonan with an elbow, “I didn’t know your mom has tattoos.” 

Lonan takes the photograph cautiously, holding it by the corners like it’ll burn him. His brow trembles, but it takes him only seconds to say, “That’s not my mom.” He takes the flashlight from Harrison and examines it closer, fingers nimble and tracing the edges. In the grey light of the dark room, he looks nullified. Just a monochromatic hum of chromosomes and skin. 

that’s not my MOM

After the boys find the photograph, Lonan gets triggered at Harrison’s suggestion to find the woman (he presumes her to be someone involved with his father) and promptly has a tantrum and exits. This leads us into the next scene where the boys! actually! get! on! boat! In this scene Lonan tries to say sorry for his tantrum by offering Harrison a cigarette (lol) and because Harrison is hopelessly romantic and also hopelessly dumb, says yeeeees sir! They go for a canoe ride on the water. Thought it was going to be sweet, ended up being a shitstorm but!

This paragraph is kind of toast but:

The canoe isn’t hard to get into the water. After a few nudges from the dock into the slow dip of tide, it stabilizes easily. Harrison is convinced it will capsize but Lonan knows it won’t. They take one ore each, and ignore the life jackets at the back of the shed.

The moon is large and mesmerizing. As Harrison and Lonan take turns pushing the canoe into the water, mast first, then its entire belly, it colours them silver. Lonan’s protected the cigarette in the pocket of his shirt. Harrison stares at its faint outline stretched under the fabric. Lonan steps into the canoe first, rocking with the current, and extends a hand for Harrison. He pulls him in and they row until the cabin is the size of a fingernail, the wave steady and dense. Each cut of the paddle feels like plunging a scalpel into flesh and Harrison watches Lonan do it easily. In the distance, the cabin doesn’t look so menacing. Reeve has left the lamp on by the loft, and it glimmers back like an eyeball, effervescent and tiny. Nothing but a reflective penny in the distance.

Here’s some Harrison being lame:

The water laps at the base of the canoe, and Ris reaches over and touches it like it’s holy. He makes the sign of the cross and it feels perverse, cold water dripping from forehead to chin.

For a while it’s quiet. Just the distant hum of crickets, the slash of the paddle, and the off-chance flash of something in the distance; an animal, a flashlight. Ris tries not to think about Lonan’s dad, like a dead man slithering through the water, following their boat. He picks at a saltine, sucks it between his tongue meditatively. Against the sky, Lonan is backlit and lovely and flecks of his hair peek up from around the jacket’s collar. Harrison wonders if as a child, everyone said he looked just like his father. 

On top of lacking accountability, Lonan is also a professional canoeist so he takes over while Harrison eats saltines and reminisces about an encounter they had weeks prior. This leads into the solid chunk of backstory that I weirdly jump in an out of for the entire chapter. :)

Backstory consists of drunk Lonan having a crisis while Harrison tries to have a peaceful evening of taping up his drawings to his bedroom ceiling. The following excerpt describes the moment right after Lonan enters the room.

Harrison’s lips secured around his cigarette, his hand mid-air with packing tape and line drawings of the moon. A tinny country song dribbled through the radio. The minute-meal he’d heat up in the microwave lying forgotten and cold on his desk. Harrison set the pile of drawings down and turned off the music.

“Emily left?” Lonan asked. He kept his face upward, stared clumsily at the ceiling. Harrison watched his eyes trace the new drawings, following the uncalculated pattern. 

This paragraph is made up of 5 similes and this is the only reason I’m sharing it :)))):

Lonan has stopped paddling. The canoe sits in the middle of the lake, lifeless, like a bone in the water. He’s turned so Harrison can see him in profile, and Ris can’t tell if it’s relieving or worrying to see his face. Lonan’s jaw is taut, like there are words he wants to say there but can’t. Filling up the hollow bone. He blinks slowly, like he’s trying to re-centre himself, his chest quivering with breaths meant to steady him. The water laps at the base of the canoe, whirling. Dark hair tangles down his cheeks like the fingers of a poltergeist. 

I think that’s a pretty good way to end this post lol! How many similes have you put in one paragraph? What’s your record lol this is probably mine!

Hope y’all enjoy the intro to MOTH WORK. I have two other chapters already written which I’ll update on in a separate post! For now I hope you like this more laid back project, let me know what you think!

---Rachel

[timelock97]

Time Never Stops

Chapter Fourteen: Little He or Little She

Word Count: 1638

Prologue   Ch 1   Ch 2   Ch 3   Ch 4   Ch 5 Ch 6   Ch 7   Ch 8   Ch 9   Ch 10   Ch 11   Ch 12   Ch 13

Warning: FLUFF

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I move to look at myself in the mirror and smile at my reflection. The material of the light blue dress hugs my body perfectly, showing off the little bump. A pink ribbon is placed just above it tied in a bow. I turn to the side and smile at the bump, placing my hand on top of it as I admire the life growing inside.

"Love, are you ready for the party?" Tom walks in the room, dressed in a pair of khakis and a blush pink button up. "You look amazing, baby girl."

"You look pretty good yourself, handsome." I smile as he comes up and wrap his arms around me, pulling me toward him to place a chaste kiss to my lips.

"Our Mums shooed me upstairs to get you. Told me I had to get my pretty girl and bring her downstairs."

"Can't start the party without the guest of honor." I giggle, wrapping an arm around his neck and place one of his hands on my stomach before I pull him back into a kiss.

"No, we can't," he chuckles against my lips, pulling away to kiss my forehead. "Ready to head downstairs?"

"How does it look, before we head down?"

"They did a wonderful job. Izzy, Haley, and Mia took charge once they got here, Haz decided it was for the best." Tom chuckles, tugging me toward the door to the party below. I smile at the pink and blue streamers that were hung from the ceiling as we make our way into the living room. Tom leads me into the kitchen, where I am quickly hugged by Haley who tightens her grip on me and sways us from side to side.

"I miss you, why did you leave?" She whines playfully. I pull away from her, only for her to squeal and look at me with bright eyes, "Look at that bump! Do you have a prediction of what it is?"

"I do not, what's the popular vote?" I tease as my mom and Tom's mum come in from outside.

"Darling, you look amazing!" Nikki muses, walking over and pulling me into a hug, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.

"Thank you, Nikki." I whisper, reaching for my mother next who hugs me tightly.

"Look at my little girl, you look beautiful." My mother coos, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

"You two should head outside and greet guests, we have to make sure the food is done." Nikki laughs, shooing us from the kitchen and out the back door. I smile at the fairy lights decorating along the top of the space, picnic tables dot the yard, and a photo area is attached to the right side of the fence with an abundance of baby related props. Both family and friends mingle about the yard.

"Looks like they did a good job." I smile as I lean into Tom's side, his nose grazing my temple.

"They really did, it's simple and that was all that we wanted." Tom smiles, pressing a kiss to my temple, pulling away as people walk over to greet us. I smile and pull family and friends into hugs and ask the usual 'how are you?' 'what have you been up to?' 'how was your flight?' After a few minutes I find Izzy and Logan, pulling them both into a hug.

"God, I have missed you two. How is everything? How was tour?" I ask as I pull away.

"Tour was amazing! Everyone is beyond excited for the next book, which should be out in about three months since I had already started months ago." Izzy laughs, running a hand over her arm.

"Well, this is the reason why I said to release two then do tour!" I laugh back, smiling at her proudly.

"We are, that's the plan for the next tour." Logan says, snaking an arm around his girlfriend's waist.

A pair of arms wrap around my waist making me laugh. "Did you think you could get away from me without saying hello?"

"No, Mia, you just looked busy talking with Haz I didn't want to interrupt you." I tease with a wink. Tom and I had been trying to set the two of them up, but since she was still in (Y/S) and he was here in London we didn't push the subject too hard.

"Well, he was talking to me about being in need of a roommate since Tom moved out and offered me to move in when I come out for when I study abroad in January."

"Really?" I giggle, glancing over to see Haz and Tom talking, Tom high-fiving him while Haz blushes. "Well, he is definitely a fun roommate to have, polite, loves to cook-"

"Trying to still set me up?" She teases with a raised eyebrow, "Because he has already asked me on a date."

"Damn, you weren't kidding when you said that Harrison and Mia would fit so well together," Izzy laughs.

"What can I say, we all saw it coming." I laugh, seeing that Sean, who was talking to Harry, had arrived as well as Dan and Phil. "I have to go finish greeting people, but thank you guys for today."

"It's going to be a great day." Izzy states, the three giving me a wave as I walk off to go give Sean a hug.

"There she is!" Sean says with a laugh, being careful when he pulls me into a hug. "How are you?"

"Better than I was about two months ago, little love made me sicker than a dog." I laugh half-heartedly. "I am so glad you could make it."

"Me too," he hums letting me go to take a look at me. "Look at this house!"

"I know! We really haven't done much setting up since we have plenty of time til they are here."

"That's fair. What are you going to do about videos?" Sean asks, folding his arms across his chest.

"Actually, I hired an editor that Robin recommended a week ago-"

"So you did call Alexis!" He says excitedly.

"Yup, I'm really starting to get pregnancy brain so editing doesn't go well. Can't really focus for too long, plus the further I get the worse it will be I guess, so I'd rather have someone else do it so I can focus on other things."

"That's fair, well everyone is excited to know whether what our gaming buddy is, who is going to join us the next time your in town."

"If I remember correctly the next time I'll be in town will be the charity live-stream in December. Tom is tagging along, I hope that is okay." I raise an eyebrow making him laugh.

"No," he teases back, "it's not okay. Yeah, he's good to come, the more the merrier."

"Perfect, well I have to go and mingle around more, enjoy the party!"

"You too!"

I walk away, shifting between people and getting pulled into more conversations before I can make it inside to grab something to eat, the kitchen was quiet minus the humming of the crockpots on the counter. I walk over and open each dish in turn, smelling the savory chicken, cheesy mac and cheese, taco salad, and sweet dirt pudding. A cake sat on one side of the counter, signed with the caption 'Little He or Little She?' on top. I smile and scoop a bit of mac and cheese on my plate and eat, humming at the taste in the quiet kitchen. I go to take my final bite when the door slides open, revealing Tom, who sees me taking a way too large of a bite.

He lets out a snort, "You know we are supposed to eat after the gender reveal?"

"Excuse you, who is the pregnant one here? I think I can do what I want." I sass, tossing my now empty plate in the trash.

Tom smiles, pulling me to him, "Everyone wants us to do the gender reveal, so you want to come outside with me and get started?"

"Yeah, let's go, I wanna know what are little love is going to be." I smile, taking his outstretched hand and let him lead me outside to where everyone was waiting.

"Are you two ready for the gender reveal?" Harrison asks with a laugh, Izzy walking over to his side.

"We are, what are we doing to find out what our baby is?" Tom asks, moving to wrap an arm around my waist.

"Chalk bomb," Izzy states, handing Tom a black plastic ball.

Tom smiles at me and pulls me to the side where we will have enough space for the chalk to fly. He throws his arms over his head, "ARE WE READY!" The crowd cheers loudly, making us laugh. Tom's arm wraps around my waist, smiling at me, "Ready, love?"

"Let's find out what we are having, Holland." I state, Tom's hand holding the ball raises again before he chucks it at the ground at our feet. The two of us gasp in delight as the ball breaks and pink clouds the air around us.

Tom turns and pulls me into his arms, spinning us around in a circle before setting me to my feet. "We're having a little girl, love."

"We are indeed, Tom." I tease, my arms pulling him down into a kiss.

"Please tell me someone got that on camera?" Tom calls looking at the crowd, seeing several people lift their phones, v-log cameras, and normal cameras into the air. "Okay, good," he laughs, shaking his head before looking back at me.

"First grandchild is a girl!" Nikki yells with excitement, hugging Dom as everyone walks over to congratulate us. It could not be a more perfect day, especially having so many of the most important people of our lives being there to witness with us our future.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! Reblog and comment!

@revenantwriting | @bellagrayson-wayne | @jackiehollanderr | @snowxbarryxendgame​ | @let-me-luve-you​ | @mybitchborky​ | @linnyalou

Chapter Fifteen

[theway-itwas]

20200317

i write many notes about her. some people journal, and i write little tidbits of what i’m feeling when i’m feeling it, sort of as a log to keep track of what i’m feeling about her. 

it’s been two months, and then some. it still hurts, but it’s more a stinging feeling now. it’s different, not at all how i expected it to feel at this point in time. with everything going on i have felt and pondered many things, gone into the depths of myself and uncovered secrets about myself i never knew existed. it’s fulfilling to see myself reach a potential i didn’t know i could reach. 

i still think she’s going to come back, and i’m almost confident she will. this feeling, this intuitive gut knowing that she will return is hard to shake. it has to account for something, it’s not for nothing. there’s a reason the signs keep popping up, there’s a reason for everything, and i am starting to piece them together and understand exactly what it is i need to do. 

she pulls me back in right when i feel like it’s my time to walk away. like saturday night/sunday morning, when we watched parasite and facetimed until 5 in the morning out of the blue. all saturday i was crying over her, and that very night she messaged me. we had a fun conversation, then talked throughout the night. and then it was back to normal, back to reality. she stopped talking to me again. 

i doubt she understands just how much it meant to me. that night was great, it resurfaced a lot of feelings i’d pushed deep down, and it made me realize yet again that it’s still her. it’s going to be her for a while, and that i am confident that for her it will eventually be me too. it couldn’t mean nothing, it can’t mean nothing. i know in my soul that it meant something to her like it meant to me. 

and with that, i want to explain some of the things in my notes. i kind of just want to write, but didn’t know what to write independently, so i figured i’d go into detail for myself. 

“i remember staring at your eyes and memorizing the color because i didn’t want to forget.” inspired by my main tumblr, and encapsulating how it felt to look into her ‘boba ball’ eyes and never want to see anything else ever again. 

“la citta di smeraldo” the truth untold by bts. it made me think of how i was when we were ~together~, the story reminded me of myself. i hated myself then, i’m getting better now. 

“the nights i’ll grow not to remember, but you, i will never forget.” it’s the truth. the individual nights have started to fade, and soon enough they’ll all be forgotten memories. but her, she will always be a part of me. she will stay in my head forever. 

“i was desperately looking for happy songs to listen to when i realized that the playlist i made for you was filled with them. good news is, i can listen to it without crying. bad news is, every song is still about you.” that one speaks for itself. i wrote that before she unfollowed the playlist, which made it harder to listen to. but it remains true still. every song is about her, even if it hurts to daydream when i listen to them. 

“once i realized that i deserved better, and that i was capable of giving myself everything you could not, i was happier. that’s funny, isn’t it? how i’m happy and i am learning to love myself now that you’re out of the picture. things without you used to be so hard, now they’re getting easier day by day, and you’re just not that special anymore.” this one is funny because it was so incredibly short-lived. that was a great week, but i was trying to deny how i felt. i accept it now, and i allow myself to feel these things for her knowing it is for good reason and it will get better someday. 

“i don’t think you understand how much i need you, were you really just a waste of all those nights? i don’t think the stars aligned so i can’t have you, is the universe really that unkind?” song lyrics i wrote for sydney, but that i altered a bit to fit izzy. they fit so much more in this situation. 

“there’s not a song sad enough.” i revisit this one, mentally, a lot. when i first saw that she was talking to someone else, and that she confessed to them and it went well, this was my immediate reaction. no song was sad enough to match how i felt. i was destroyed. 

“everybody’s blind when the view’s amazing.” stay by post malone. i still love that song, and it’s true. rose colored glasses are a dangerous thing. 

“i don’t follows fighting for a lost cause, feels like even drifting we’re just off course” fomo by eden. the best song off of no future, and it was my simping song for a while. 

“she says i’m no good with my hands but i’d hold up the whole sky for her” 2020 by eden. again, lyrics that somehow explain what i could never. 

“i begged you to tell me to turn around, but all i heard was silence. maybe it was me who should’ve told you to turn around, but maybe neither of us was meant to. so, we continue with our backs to each other as if our paths hadn’t just crossed, as if our lives weren’t changed forever, yet not as if we’d never be the same without each other.” i wrote that one after watching portrait of a lady on fire. like call me by your name, the ending of that movie resonated differently with me, and i took the portrait concept and my own experience with her and mixed them together to write a little paragraph. 

“you could have told me to go to hell and, if that’s what you wanted, i would’ve done it without hesitation.” after rewatching faking it, a similar line that liam said was on my mind for many days. karma told him to go to hell, and he replied “fine, i’ll go to hell if that’s what you want” and it made me really think, that’s exactly how i feel about izzy. 

“distracting myself works for a while but i always end up here.” self explanatory. i was probably more upset than usual when i wrote that. 

“i think things should be easier from now on. thank you for giving me the closure i needed, and i hope the future is bright for both of us--individually and together.” i wrote that after she texted me about the tik tok i made about her and we talked things out. it’s funny because i really thought things would be easier. things got so much harder, and i was visibly upset the few days after that. that night kind of did nothing but make me want her more, especially after she’d said she thinks about me every day and basically said moving on was hard. the fact that she had to move on at all made me rethink everything i ever thought about her because that means it was real, and she forced herself to give it up. 

“it’s times like these when you remember just how temporary everything is.” just me reminiscing on november and december. 

“nothing has felt right since you left.” it’s true. things have felt off, like it wasn’t supposed to happen. 

“being closer to you makes it worse. it’s still you, it will always be you, and for you it will never be me and that is the most frustrating reality that i can’t face.” we were talking quite a bit then, and i wasn’t confident in the thought that she would come back quite yet. 

“i may not be okay yet, but i’m closer than i was yesterday.” every day i get closer to being more okay, but healing is inconsistent, and sometimes things get harder again. 

“right when i think i’ve gotten far enough, you pull me back in again.” she probably texted me asking if i was okay again, as she often does. maybe it was when i asked her if she was okay. sometimes i think it’s just her excuse to talk to me. 

“i just want to relive those days over and over again. i want that feeling again, i want you and i’m desperately trying to show you that but you just don’t care and it’s killing me. everything changed when you left and i’m trying to figure myself out but it hurts having to do that without you. i don’t even know why i’m making such a big deal out of such a short time but i can’t help it and i feel pulled in two directions because i can’t decide whether to let you go or to hold onto hope because both paths seem equally as plausible and both are hurting me more than i can take. i feel weak and defeated. i feel like i have no control and that i have no choice but to sit here and do nothing as things fall apart. thanks to you, i am defeated.” it was true then, less so now. i feel like holding onto hope is way more plausible now, but i did feel defeated. 

“it doesn’t even feel anymore. it’s just nothing, waves of nothingness when i think of you.” i don’t even remember what exactly evoked this response but clearly i was upset. 

“i both don’t want to talk to you and only want to talk to you. it’s a mixture of pushing you away and pulling you in. every time i try to walk, something happens and it feels like i get pulled back. i just want to be free from you, free to be happy without you and be happy for you. please allow me to do that.” little did i know there was trouble in paradise. 

“i’ve never had a choice. everyone else has always chosen for me, you chose for me, i didn’t have a say in it. how is that fair?” i just felt so helpless and defeated. 

“yesterday i was crying over you and trying to forget about you. last night i was on facetime with you until 4:30 in the morning. you did it again, you pulled me back in.” self-explanatory. this time was different though, it cemented many things. 

“maybe you should set me free, maybe i don’t really want you to” this love by camila cabello. pretty much sums up every feeling i’ve had since january 5th. 

that’s it for the notes.

i am trying to forgive. i realized today that the universe, spirit is sending me the sign that i must forgive before i can get what i want. i can’t have her until i forgive her, really truly forgive her for leaving me. they sent me her knowing this was a lesson i had to learn. i can’t have what i want unless i forgive everyone, including myself. i need to forgive the world and love every aspect of it to finally prosper and get an abundance of what i want. i see that now. so, i will work on forgiveness. i will nurture my wounds. 

this will be my physical speaking of it. i am working on myself, doing healthy things and actually going through with it. every day i want to go on long walks, to sit and meditate at that table i found today. i want to be everything i have always wanted to be and i am doing things to help myself achieve that. 

the spirituality and intuition i am tapping into lately feels amazing. i understand the things around me, and i see the beauty in all things. i’ve gotten into tarot, astrology, meditation, manifestation, and all that good stuff lately. it feels good. i like growing into this new person. it feels like a new chapter, in all the best ways. 

rae, as in valkyrae, said it regarding her breakup with michael recently. “just because we aren’t in each other’s chapter nine doesn’t mean we can’t be in each other’s chapter fifteen”.

and with that, i think izzy and i need(ed) this time apart to work on ourselves. i think we both need to forgive, and we both need to grow in order to be perfect for each other. i think there is a deep soul connection, i think she might be my soulmate, and i see now the importance of spending time apart so we can fall back together. 

all is going to work out. everything is going to be okay. i see that now. 

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 30)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 7.6k story words: 240k (so far) chapter: 30/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thanks to my one true love @auroraphilealis giving up whatever she was doing tonight to beta, even though she had a headache and unlimited lives on her fave mobile game of the moment xx 

Dan woke up early, groggy from jetlag. The hotel room was shrouded in dark shadows, and in his sleepy state, he couldn’t tell if it was from the thick curtains or if it was still dark outside. Whichever it was, it really made him not want to move — well, that and the warm weight of Phil’s arm wrapped around his waist and the soft, rhythmic tickle of Phil’s breath against the back of Dan’s neck. Sometime during the night, they’d shifted from their original position of Dan’s head on Phil’s chest. They hadn’t drifted far from each other, though. Somehow, they’d ended up spooning, and Dan secretly loved that even in their sleep, they’d wanted to stay close together.

But despite the serenity, worry nagged at the back of Dan’s mind, and he found himself itching to check his phone. He’d spent the majority of the plane ride ruminating about Isabella’s interview, his mind spiraling and dreaming up worst case scenarios. During the one hour of the flight he’d managed to sleep, he’d dreamed that Isabella had told everyone he’d cheated on her with Phil.

Luckily, last night he’d slept peacefully — he couldn’t imagine trying to film an interview in front of a live audience on a fitful night’s sleep. Dan suspected that Phil had something to do with why he’d slept so well, but now didn’t seem like the time to explore that thought.

Careful not to disturb Phil, Dan stretched forward to swipe his phone off the bedside table. He clicked it on, and was surprised to find that it was only half past seven — his alarm wasn’t due to go off for another half hour. Less surprising was the fact that there were already two text messages from Louise; it was five hours later there after all.

The messages had only come in an hour ago.

There was little doubt in Dan’s mind that the messages had something to do with Isabella’s interview, because Louise would have waited until a more reasonable time to text about anything else. Wiggling further back into Phil’s embrace, Dan took a deep breath and opened them.

Louise [6:28AM]: Tatler has already posted about the interview. They must have wanted to get it out fast, because it’s pretty much just a transcript, not a proper article. I’m going to read it now.

Louise [6:37AM]: You’re going to hate it. Honestly, it’s not that bad, there’s nothing so damning that you can’t fix it. But… you won’t like it :( Here’s the link: www.tatler.uk/18572650

“Fuck,” Dan muttered, apparently a little too loudly. Behind him, Phil stirred; his leg shifted, wrapping fully around Dan’s, and Phil pulled him in closer.

“What time’s it?” Phil asked, his voice deep and scratchy with sleep.

“Half seven,” Dan answered shortly.

“What’re you doin’ up?” Phil slurred. His hand dipped just inside the hem of Dan’s pyjama pants, his thumb stroking Dan’s bare hipbone. On any other morning, Dan was certain that this would be pleasant — peaceful even. But this morning, Dan’s mind couldn’t detach from the real world enough to enjoy the touch.

“Louise texted. The interview is up.” Even to his own ears, Dan’s voice sounded flat. Flat and tight.

The news seemed to affect Phil just as much as it had Dan. The gentle caress of Dan’s hip stopped abruptly, Phil’s hand gripping his waist tightly instead.

“How bad?” Phil asked warily.

Dan tipped his head slightly so that he could at least sort of see Phil. “Dunno yet. I haven’t read it. Louise said I wouldn’t like it, but it, and I quote, isn’t too bad and there’s nothing too damning.”

“That’s… contradictory.” Phil’s brows were furrowed; he looked just as confused as Dan felt.

“Fucking tell me about it,” Dan grumbled. Louise had never been one to sugar coat news about publicity, so he objectively knew this couldn’t be that horrific. But still, the fact that his best friend knew he’d hate what Isabella had to say… He had a feeling that meant that Izzy had probably gone for the jugular.

“Well,” Phil said with a sigh. “Should we read it?”

“Unfortunately,” Dan huffed. One hand dropped from his phone, reaching instead for Phil’s arm that was wrapped around his waist. Slowly, Dan slithered his hand down until his fingers linked with Phil’s. Looking over his shoulder, Dan’s eyes flickered back and forth between Phil’s. “Together?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Phil agreed, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Dan’s forehead.

“Alright, here goes nothing.” With a sigh, Dan rolled back onto his side, and clicked the link Louise had sent. He felt Phil raise up on his elbow, his head hooking around Dan’s shoulder so he could read too. The page loaded, and Dan dove into reading, knowing that if he procrastinated at all, his anxiety might stop him from ever being able to read it.

—

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly of Love with Daniel Howell

This morning, I sat down with one of Tatler’s favorite models, Isabella De La Renta, to talk about her recent split from singer Daniel Howell (see here, here, and here for our past coverage of the shocking break up). For those curious, Isabella ordered a green tea (maybe inspired by her recent trip to China; see here for more details) and a yogurt parfait (no granola because she doesn’t eat carbs to maintain her perfect figure!). Isabella dished on everything from Dan’s shocking announcement about his sexuality (see his instagram post here) to how their relationship was going before their split.

You and Dan dated for a long time —

IDLR: Almost a year!

What’s life like now that you’re broken up?

IDLR: It’s been a hard adjustment. In so many ways, Dan was my best friend. It still feels weird to not be able to call him after a long day or to share good news.

I think it goes without saying that your breakup was a huge shock to your fans. Were you surprised?

IDLR: Yes and no. By the time we broke up, I knew it was the right thing to do, but if you asked me earlier this year, I never would have guessed. Just a few months ago, I went to Adalina’s birthday dinner — that’s Dan’s little sister — and his mum and I were talking about rings. His whole family was so welcoming and seemed really supportive of the idea of marriage.

Oh wow — rings. How did that come up?

IDLR: Dan’s mum was wearing a gorgeous diamond ring that he bought her for Christmas, and she made a point to tell me that. It was so clearly a sneaky way for him to get my opinion on what kind of rings I prefer. It was kind of sweet actually.

From ring talk to breaking up, that’s quite a change. You said that you knew breaking up was the right thing to do. Why was that?

For the first time since we sat down together, Isabella fell silent. Her eyes drifted out the window, and she was silent a long time. By the time she spoke again, her voice was choked up with tears and the model’s response was interrupted by delicate sniffles. It’s clear that this topic is still hard for her to talk about.

IDLR: We dated almost a year and, like I said, we were best friends. I thought I knew everything about Danny. And then in January, he told me he was attracted to guys, too. I really didn’t want it to affect our relationship, but I felt so betrayed that he’d kept such a big part of himself secret from me that it was hard to trust him anymore. In the end, I knew I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t willing to be completely authentic with me.

Did you feel like he continued to be inauthentic with you after he came out to you?

IDLR: Yes, yes definitely. Dan assured me — just like he announced on his insta — that he’s bisexual. But after a year of dating him, and seeing how he is with a certain boy, I think maybe… maybe he’s not bisexual if you know what I mean.

Interesting. So what do you think that means about his relationship with you?

IDLR: Honestly, I feel really used. Before he told me about his sexuality, there were definitely moments where I felt like he was dating me for reasons he wasn’t letting on. But I never would have guessed it was a coverup for being gay.

I don't think any of us anticipated that! How did Dan handle the breakup?

IDLR: He really didn’t want to break up — he asked me several times to reconsider. I think he liked being able to show the world that he had a girlfriend, and ultimately, we did have a lot of fun together. Even if it did turn out to be not genuinely based on sex or romance.

Since you teased about it, will you tell us what the sex was like?

IDLR: Nosey nosey! For a while, it was good — maybe because it was new or him exploring or whatever. But that must have worn off or something. For the last few months, he wasn’t interested in it at all. He’d always find an excuse to get out of it, and the few times he didn’t… well, let’s just say it didn’t work and it wasn’t my fault. That was really hard to come to terms with and I felt so rejected.

That would be difficult for anyone to handle.

IDLR: I feel like it was extra hard for me because I’ve, like, never been rejected like that before. I grew up always being the pretty girl that everybody wanted, so to have Danny not want me in that way… Well, that’s when I knew for sure that he wasn’t bi, and realized our whole relationship was totally fake and I was just his… beard.

His beard — wow. That’s not something you hear much anymore.

IDLR: Maybe people are just better at keeping secrets now. Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to notice that I’m the only public relationship Dan’s had. Why else do you think that would be, if it wasn’t that all his lovers were men?

I asked Isabella if she had any final things to say about Daniel Howell, and she left us with this powerful message:

“Danny had me fooled for almost a year, and we were closer than I thought two people could be. Don’t hesitate to think that he might be fooling you too.” -IDLR.

—

“Fuck fuck fucking fuck!” Dan cursed. Every single word in the article was complete bullshit, but that quote at the end — that quote was the final fucking straw. How fucking dare Isabella twist the story like that, and then use her twisted, fucked up version of events to make everyone question everything he was going to say?

Adrenaline was coursing through Dan’s veins, and he couldn’t possibly stay still for another second. Dan chucked his phone towards the foot of the bed, not bothering to check if it landed safely — it was cracked anyway — and abruptly lunged out of Phil’s arm.

Pent up energy was eating at him, making him itch to move, so he began pacing their room. With vehement quickness, Dan marched up and down the small aisle between the foot of the bed and the dresser, pacing from the sofa to the bathroom and back, over and over and over.

“Fuck her, fuck her, that fucking cunt!” Dan spat, bringing one hand up to tug roughly at his tangled curls.

“Dan, I know you’re pissed off, but —” Phil started to say, but Dan wasn’t having any of it. He just barely glanced over, only fleetingly noting that Phil had pushed himself up to a sitting position and was now leaning forward like he wanted to say something.

“Pissed off?” Dan asked incredulously with a bitter laugh. Pissed off didn’t even begin to describe how Dan felt right now — he was downright livid, and he literally could not remember a single time where he’d been more upset than this. Not when his dad had sold his car without his permission, not when a group of obnoxious young fans had tried to harass Adaline for information, not when an unreleased, private song had accidentally been released to the public.

This — this was a whole new fucking level of anger, and there was only one way Dan knew how to cope with it.

Music.

He wanted everyone to know that Isabella was the one trying to fool the world, that Isabella was the one lying out of her ass. And what better way to do it than singing a song that practically screamed how fucked up Isabella’s behavior had been?

And if he sang it tonight, just hours after Isabella’s interview was released, people would know he’d written it beforehand — it would be at least one piece of evidence that would corroborate his version — the real version — of the story.

“That bitch isn’t getting away with this,” Dan muttered fiercely. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his side, his breaths coming in harsh huffs.

“Don’t do anything too rash, Dan,” Phil half-heartedly pleaded from the bed. The words knocked Dan out of his thoughts, and he froze mid-pace to spin around and face Phil.

“It’s not considered rash if I already planned on releasing the song at some point, right?” He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

Phil narrowed his gaze, though, eyeing Dan carefully. “I thought you said you only had one song you could perform without the backup band?”

Dan narrowed his eyes. He understood Phil’s rebuttal — Dan had told Phil that there was only one song he could play with just his guitar. My My My was Dan’s only acoustic song. But that didn’t mean it was the only song he could play without having his full backup band with him.

“Well, technically,” he admitted slowly. “But I do have another song — a perfect song — that’s basically ready. The band’s already recorded the instrumental parts, so I could just sing to that,” Dan suggested tentatively.

To Dan’s surprise, Phil pouted at the news. His bottom lip stuck out pitifully, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I thought my song was perfect?” he whined.

The anger that had been curling at Dan’s edges receded slightly, utter adoration for the man in front of him creeping into its place. Despite the urge to retaliate against Isabella’s accusations, Dan found his entire body, his entire demeanor, softening. Phil was so cute, and yet so petulant, that Dan couldn’t help melting. There was a happy glint in Phil’s eyes that was never there when Isabella had pouted at Dan, a spark that told Dan that this was different.

Before Dan could process his own actions, he was moving again, this time walking with purpose towards Phil and coming to a stop at the very edge of the bed.

Reaching out, Dan cupped Phil’s face in his palms, tilting his head up until their eyes met.

“Of course your song is perfect, Philly,” Dan reassured him with a soft smile. “But I wrote My My My, and the rest of your songs for that matter, when I was happy and giddy and in—” Dan paused, a hot flush rising to his cheeks. “Well. When I wasn’t in this kind of mood. And I’d rather the world didn’t hear any of them for the first time with this mood tainting it.”

For a moment, Phil just held Dan’s gaze. Dan raised his brows hopefully, almost pleading for Phil’s sad look to go away. But then Phil’s pouted melted, and a small smile replaced it instead. A part of Dan — a bigger part of him than he’d like to admit, really — was surprised at how quickly Phil’s pout had disappeared, even if the pout had only been joking in the first place. After a year with Isabella, Dan was used to fucking groveling if he wanted those sad looks to go away without sex.

“The rest of my songs?” Phil marveled, a hint of astonishment lacing his voice and a pink blush tainting his cheeks.

“Yes you loser, the rest of your songs.” Dan huffed, but not bothering to hide an enamoured grin.

“I didn’t know there was more than just the one,” Phil said softly, a note of awe in his voice.

“Did you even listen to the concept of the album?” Dan shook his head and rolled his eyes. Humor and fondness were seeping into his words no matter how hard he tried to sound serious; it didn’t matter that he’d been delirious with anger fifteen seconds ago, something about this boy managed to swing his mood to the polar opposite in the flicker of a second. “Wanting you, getting you… doesn’t that imply a bare minimum of two songs?” Dan teased, quirking an eyebrow and running one hand along the short, buzzcut side of Phil’s hair.

Isabella wasn’t right, he wasn’t gay, but he definitely reveled in how much of a boy Phil was.

“I mean,” Phil’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, his mouth pulling into a broad grin. Through his teeth, Phil’s tongue continued poking out of his mouth, and for once, his hand didn’t shoot up to hide it. “I guess I objectively figured that. But I didn’t, like… know. For sure, I mean.”

“You’re a dork, but I like you anyway,” Dan teased with a smirk.

Leaning down, Dan closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Phil’s. The kiss was soft, almost chaste, at first, but the adrenaline that had been plaguing Dan must not have settled yet. The gentle kiss quickly grew heated, Dan’s mouth parting and his tongue darting out to lick along Phil’s bottom lip.

The soft whine Phil let out made Dan grin smugly.

“Before I call Lou about the song change, I need to shower and cool down,” Dan panted against Phil’s mouth after a moment, only drawing far enough back to mumble the words. Tipping his head forward, Dan captured Phil’s lips once more, playfully, sucking Phil’s bottom lip between his own, and letting his teeth graze along the sensitive skin just inside of Phil’s mouth. “Come with me?”

Hot staccatoed breaths fanned across Dan’s face as Phil chuckled, chasing Dan’s mouth to press a final, chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m pretty sure me showering with you will do the opposite of helping you cool down,” Phil teased.

“But Phi-illllll,” Dan whined, his voice several octaves higher than normal. Childish petulance seemed to take over Dan, and he stomped his foot on the ground, tugging pointedly at Phil’s hair.

“But D-annnn,” Phil mocked, his voice somehow even higher than Dan’s. Smirk on his face, Phil lightly shook Dan by the hips.

Actions speak louder than words, or so everyone said, so rather than replying, Dan opted to slide his hands from Phil’s cheeks down down down until he’d landed on Phil’s hips. Even then, Dan didn’t stop; one hand drifted farther, slipping into the hem of Phil’s pants. His fingers grazed Phil’s hipbone, creeping farther and farther back towards Phil’s arse.

Dan wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips in what he hoped was a suggestive manner. “Come on,” he said gruffly, his hand lightly squeezing what he could reach of Phil’s arse.

“I’ll tell you what,” Phil started with a mischievous glint in his eye, shaking his head at Dan’s offer but smirking all the while. “I promise we’ll do something fun when you’re done filming the show.”

Lips pursed, Dan raised his brows skeptically. “Why can’t we do something fun later and now? It seems unnecessarily cruel for you to lounge in bed and leave me to wank in the shower,” he whined.

“Jesus christ, Dan,” Phil muttered, his eyes squeezing shut. Against his hips, Dan could feel the way Phil’s fingers dug in, he could see the way Phil’s entire body tensed. Everything about Phil’s demeanor made Dan confident that Phil would cave, if not now, then soon.

It took a moment, but Phil opened them again, although he didn’t quite meet Dan’s eye. “We both know if I come with you, we’ll both get absurdly distracted.”

“So?” Dan asked petulantly, sticking his lip out this time.

“So!” Phil huffed, exasperated. “You have a big day today and should focus on that. Besides, I should really call my mum.”

Dan wrinkled his nose, horrified at the change in subject. “Your mum? Are you really dragging your mum into this to turn me off?”

“Shut up, you twat.” Phil rolled his eyes, finally tipping his head far enough back to meet Dan’s gaze again. “My mum’s only request is that I text her if I leave the time zone, and now we’ve traveled through like six, so I think I owe her a call.”

“Yikes,” Dan cringed, his face scrunched up in horror. “You should have called her from the aeroport or something!” Dan tapped Phil’s shoulder impatiently, trying to get his point across.

Phil smiled softly, one hand reaching up to still Dan’s hand, trapping it against Phil’s neck. “I didn’t wanna leave you alone,” he said warmly, his other thumb grazing over Dan’s hipbone.

“Ugh,” Dan recoiled instantly, his nose wrinkling up in disgust. He wrangled his hand out of Phil’s grip, lightly swatting him on the shoulder. “Gross,” Dan whined, but his lips were drawn into a beaming smile.

Phil flicked Dan’s shoulder with his free hand, and flashed him a cheeky grin. “Shut up and go shower, Howell.”

“Fuck you too, Lester,” Dan pouted.

“You can do whatever you want later,” Phil teased coyly, his hand dipping into Dan’s pants to squeeze the top of his arse. Even knowing that Phil wasn’t going to accompany him to the shower, Dan couldn’t help but arch back into Phil’s touch.

“Fine, but you better believe I’m taking you up on that promise,” Dan griped, taking a minute step backward.

“Good,” Phil said with a shameless smile. “I hoped you would.”

********************

As much as Dan had resented having to get himself off with a rushed and mediocre handjob in the shower when he had a perfectly good, sexy boyfriend right outside the door, Phil had been right. From the minute Dan had gotten out of the shower — literally, he actually got out early because Louise was ringing — until the time Dan had been plopped down in a makeup chair in a small dressing room, he’d been having non-stop conversations about logistics and planning. Between Louise, his record label, and the Tonight Show coordinators, Dan barely had time to breathe — much less fuck around in the shower.

All the planning had been good though. It kept his mind busy and held his nerves at bay — until now.

Now, as some random woman dabbed foundation onto Dan’s face, there was nothing to do other than let his mind wander. Phil had ducked out a few minutes ago, going on a quest for decent coffee for Dan. While Dan really did want some tolerable caffeine, he was beginning to regret letting Phil be the one to get it.

Phil’s grounding chatter had disappeared, and along with it, so had Dan’s composure. Nerves had settled deep in the pit of his stomach and were slowly taking over his whole body. Sure, Dan had been given a run-down of topics Jimmy would hit on — and allowed to veto any he was uncomfortable with — but the gravity of what he was about to do, what he was about to talk about on national television, was weighing on him.

The makeup artist finished with the foundation and grabbed a natural-looking dark brown mascara from the pot. “Look up, please,” she instructed.

Dan eyed the brown mascara — mascara that was basically almost the exact same shade as his own eyelashes. Something about it didn’t feel right tonight, and he couldn’t quite keep his gut from screaming about it. This whole week was a movement towards being more authentic, and in a sudden moment of brazenness, Dan interrupted the makeup woman.

“Actually —” Dan paused. Stalled in hesitation, his tongue darting out to nervously wet his lower lip. Fuck it. Tonight was about making a statement. A big, loud and proud statement. He wasn’t going to half-ass it. “Can you do some eyeliner first? And maybe the black mascara?” The words came out more unsure than he’d wanted them to, and his hand was shaky as he pointed to the most dramatic tube, but he’d asked all the same. That’s what counted.

Dan expected the woman to be surprised, to balk at his request for something more feminine than she was offering. But to his surprise, she smiled broadly and gushed, “Of course!” as she pulled a small bag out of her kit. “What kind of look are you going for? Something subtle that will bring out your eyes? Or something more dramatic like the mid-2000s emo trend?”

“Um…” Dan floundered, suddenly doubting his decision — he didn’t want either of those options. Eyes fluttering closed, Dan listened to Adaline’s voice in his head saying one deep breath and then do the thing that scares you. “Neither,” he said as he met the makeup artist’s gaze with a defiant stare. This time, his voice wasn’t trembling or uncertain. It was strong. Confident.

The makeup artist’s head tilted slightly, and her lips quirked up into a small grin. “Okay, tell me what you’d like.”

Dan’s gaze drifted to his reflection in the mirror, his eyes tracing over the features of his face. “Nothing too dramatic, but I want it to be… noticeable.” He contemplated his long lashes and the dark brown of his eyes. “Something… pretty.”

“I can definitely do pretty!” The woman assured him with bubbly enthusiasm. “What are your thoughts about a bit of highlighter and bronzer to make those cute cheeks pop?”

A warm blush flushed Dan’s cheeks, and he looked down at his lap to hide his smile. He was flustered. Not from her calling him cute, but from the fact that someone other than Louise was willing to indulge his interest in makeup.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed softly, glancing up to meet the woman’s gaze in the mirror. “Whatever you think will look nice.”

Mesmerized, Dan watched as the woman pulled palette after palette out of her bag, opening and closing them as she seemed to debate which products to use. It was all so much nicer than the kid’s kit he’d bought Darcy, and so much more than the small stock Adaline used to have in her bathroom drawers.

The woman brushed powders over his cheeks, some feeling like they were almost down to his chin, some feeling like the went all the way up to his eye. Having his makeup done — proper makeup, not just stage makeup — was more nerve-wracking than Dan had anticipated, and he forced himself to avert his eyes anywhere but his own reflection. If he saw himself before she’d finished, he worried that he’d lose his courage; it was better to wait until the whole thing was done, then it would be harder to derail.

And maybe it’d look nice enough that he wouldn’t want to.

He reached out for one of the untouched palettes and opened it, only to find an array of greys and whites and blacks, some shimmery, some matte, and some straight up glitter. They were pretty — prettier than he thought he thought makeup could be, honestly.

“What’s this?” he asked, raising the palette a bit so the woman could see.

“Eyeshadow. Do you want some of that, too?” She asked it like it was the simplest question in the world, not like Dan was taking a rather large step in his slow but steady defiance of gender roles and heteronormativity.

His eyes lingered on one glittery grey powder, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a gaping fish.

After a moment’s hesitation, he weakly responded, “I think… not today.”

The makeup artist considered him for a second before plucking the palette out of his hands. “It’s up to you, of course, but we could do something really subtle. Maybe like this?” She spun the palette around so Dan could see it again, and pointed to one of the lightest options, a pale white with the faintest of shimmer. Dan didn’t know much about makeup, but he doubted the color would even show up on his skin.

“Does that even count as a color?” he asked doubtfully.

“It’s more of an accent, usually.” The makeup artist shrugged. “But if we swept it across your eyelids, the light shimmer would catch in the light and it would look nice. Barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it, but nice.”

Dan hesitated again, his fingers tapping the table in front of him as he considered her offer. For some reason, eyeshadow — even eyeshadow that was basically nonexistent — seemed like a bigger step than eyeliner and something to accent his cheeks.

“Here,” the makeup artist said in a soothing voice, almost as if she sensed his apprehension. Without waiting for a response from Dan, she pulled a brush out of her toolkit and reached for Dan’s hand. “I’ll swipe it on your hand so you can see what it looks like on your skin first.”

“Oh!” Dan breathed, astonished. The idea of testing it somewhere hadn’t occurred to him at all, and he was suddenly realizing how fucking little he knew about makeup. Pliantly, Dan let her guide his hand towards her, and he felt his cheeks heat up again as she swiped the brush against the inside of his wrist. It tickled far more than he’d thought it would — not necessarily a bad thing, though. The sensation only lasted a few seconds before she released his hands and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Slowly, tentatively, Dan lowered his arm, flipping it up so that he could see the soft, paler skin on the inside of his wrist.

In the end, the powder she’d applied was so light that he almost couldn’t see it. It wasn’t until he tilted his arm back and forth that he was able to see how the powder caught the light. She was right — it was just a faint shimmer, one he might not notice if he wasn’t trying to find it.

Still, the barely-there glitter was hypnotizing, and he found himself unable to look away.

“It’s so pretty,” he breathed, more to himself than to the woman.

“I’ll put it on your eyes, then,” she said definitively, leaving no room for Dan to refuse. “If you hate it, it’s easy to take off,” she added, softer this time, as she pointed to a packet labeled makeup wipes. Dan nodded, letting her do as she pleased.

As he pleased.

Tonight’s interview wasn’t a now or never moment — there would be plenty of other opportunities to make the statements he wanted to make — but it felt just as heavy. This appearance, this interview on The Tonight Show, was his first deliberate appearance after coming out just two nights before. Big gestures, actions that spoke louder than words — those had always mattered to Dan. Deep in his gut, something about this moment — a moment when he knew the largest possible audience would be watching — was calling for a grand display, and he was determined to do it justice.

“Go on then,” Dan whispered, taking a deep breath and then closed his eyes.

The tickling sensation felt different on his eyelids, but it still made his skin prickle in the same pleasant way. It was gentler and far more precise than when Darcy had tried to do it, and some part of Dan — a part of himself that he didn’t fully understand — relished the soft caress of the brush.

Truth be told, he didn’t quite know what to make of the fact that he liked the makeup brush — and the makeup — so much.

He liked being a boy, that much he knew. He liked his body, he liked his identity. But he didn’t necessarily like the box that society tried to confine him with. There were some things, some things that were traditionally labeled as for girls, that he wanted to be able to embrace on occasion.

And as the soft bristles brushed glimmer powder across his skin, Dan knew this was a particular box he wanted to break out of every now and again.

The brush disappeared, and Dan started to open his eyes, but was interrupted by a fierce cry from the makeup artist. “Wait!” she exclaimed hurriedly. “I want you to get the full effect before you decide!”

Dan clamped his eyes shut again, inhaling another long breath. “Okay, just tell me what to do then.” Nerves and excitement both chewed at his stomach, fighting for dominance. At this point, he wasn’t sure which was going to win out. He just hoped this wonderful makeup artist was fucking magical and could give him the confidence to actually do this.

“Just keep your eyes shut,” she instructed. Dan huffed out his breath, keeping his eyes tightly shut. “Well, okay a little looser than that,” the makeup artist chuckled, her thumb lightly brushing over Dan’s eyelid.

Dan did his best to relax his face and let whatever was going to happen, happen. If worse came to worst, he could have her take it off.

The sweeping, soft tickle of the brush disappeared, and suddenly a more pointed, but not quite harsh, touch replaced it. The touch sweeped right alone his eyelid, just barely dipping out onto his temple. Late night youtube binges told him that this was probably eyeliner — and that it was probably some amount of a wing (a term he only knew after three consecutive hours of Manny MUA).

After just another drag of what felt like a pen, the makeup artist prompted, “You can open now.”

For once, Dan didn’t hesitate tonight. He knew whatever he saw, it’d probably be nice. Even if he didn’t want to wear it on television, he’d interacted with this girl long enough to trust that whatever she had done was at least worthy of a private selfie before he had her remove it.

But when Dan opened his eyes, he was greeted with the lightest, gentlest glow on his eyelids, and eyeliner that was just this side of dramatic. It wasn’t wings, not in the way he’d seen on youtube binges. But it also wasn’t just eyeliner accentuating the natural line of his eye. The eyeliner stretched out from the corner of his eye, just a hair, forming into a subtle point — nothing large enough to be truly loud, but enough to be definitively there.

Dan opened his mouth to say something, but the words got caught in his mouth. To his great annoyance, he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes — tears he was determined to not let fall. With rough determination, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat, and cleared his voice before he tried to speak again.

“It’s great,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving his own eyes in the mirror. “Thanks.”

“Well let me put mascara on so you can get the full effect,” the woman said cheekily, waving a black tube in front of his face.

“Oh!” Dan gasped. Right — mascara. That was what had started this whole accidental makeup binge. “Go ahead, then,” Dan agreed.

He shifted his gaze up, prying his eyes open and forcing himself not to blink. The pull of the wand against his eyelashes was much more familiar — mascara was a pretty common part of stage makeup, a bit of makeup that was socially acceptable for guys to wear under certain conditions.

He loved that she was applying it after having put eyeshadow and eyeliner on.

“Okay, now tell me what you think.”

Dan’s eyes fluttered open again, appraising himself carefully in the mirror. The whole look seemed completed now that she’d added mascara. His eyes popped and his cheekbones seemed much more prominent than normal, the light reflecting off them more than usual. It wasn’t anything too radically different from how he normally looked, but still. The makeup was very clearly present. It was exactly what he’d wanted.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, his eyes staying fixed on his reflection.

“Here,” the artist said, nudging something hard into his bicep. “You should keep this.”

Dan broke his own gaze, his eyes flitting down to his arm. In the woman’s hand was the eyeshadow palette, the one that was filled with shimmery and matte monochrome powders.

“I — I couldn’t, that’s yours,” Dan stumbled in surprise.

“I want you to have it.” She offered him a kind smile and set the palette down in his lap. “I can tell you like the colors.” Knocking her shoulder against Dan’s, she smiled softly and held his gaze in the mirror.

“Still —” Dan started, not quite knowing where his rebuttal was going, just knowing he felt guilty about taking something that probably cost decent money from someone. He swallowed thickly, glancing from the artist to the palette and back up again. “I could buy my own or something.”

“I know,” she said softly, shrugging. Her eyes met his in the mirror, holding his gaze steadily. “But now you don’t have to go find the courage to do that right away. Have fun with it, see what you think.”

Dan stared down at the dozen shades of white, grey, and black, at a loss for how to use them. “I — I barely know what to do with eyeshadow, much less this many of them.” Dan sheepishly looked up at the woman, not feeling nearly worthy of such a gift.

“There are loads of youtube videos.” The woman chuckled as she dug around in her purse. “But here, take my card and we can have a little skype if you don’t know what to do.”

“Wow,” Dan mumbled, numbly reaching out for the card and blankly staring at the bold black letters spelling Sofia Ricci against the stark white background. “Okay, um, I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” Sofia said definitively. “Now about those nails.”

Dan’s eyes shot down to his hands at the completely random observation, his eyes raking over his still matte-silver fingertips. His brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of Sofia’s comment.

“What about them?” he huffed, borderline offended as he glanced back up at her.

“I noticed some of them were smudged, and I was going to offer some nail polish remover, but…” Sofia trailed off, her eyes flickering down to her bag.

“But what?” Dan pushed when she didn’t finish her thought, eyes narrowed.

Bending over, Sofia dug through her bag for a second before holding out a small bottle of black nail polish in front of Dan. “Well, I thought maybe I could add some little designs over the smudges instead?”

Their eyes met in the mirror and Dan felt his heart fucking swell at how kind and supportive Sofia looked. Half an hour ago, she had just been a random makeup woman. And twenty minutes ago, she’d been offering to dress him up like Gerard Way à la 2006. But since then, she’d morphed into a supportive ally, someone who seemed to genuinely encourage Dan’s interest in all of… this.

“Hearts,” Dan said decisively, placing his hands on the table with purpose.

Sofia’s expression softened, a smile hinting at her lips. “Sure thing,” she assured as she unscrewed the black bottle with an air of confidence. Silently, she dipped a toothpick into the polish and gestured for Dan’s hand. Gently but confidently, she spread his fingers against the counter and began dotting the toothpick with intense concentration.

Somehow, the resolute attention that Sofia was giving to Dan’s nails was wildly different from the manicurist that Dan had occasionally gone to over the last few years. Sofia knew she was prepping Dan to go out in front of a massive public audience, Sofia was painstakingly painting delicate designs on Dan’s nails, Sofia was gently pushing Dan to be as authentic as he felt comfortable being.

Dan forced himself to look anywhere but his nails while Sofia worked. The whole nail polish thing — or at least wearing it in public — was new enough that it was still nerve-wracking, but he could still recall how lovely his nails had looked after the manicurist finished them earlier this week.

And he could perfectly remember the reverent look on Phil’s face when he’d noticed.

Sofia painted in silence for a few minutes, working her way through Dan’s entire right hand before she spoke again. The sound of her voice startled Dan enough that he glanced over at her.

“So,” she started tentatively. “I feel like I should confess that I saw your instagram post.”

Dan froze. “Oh,” he said, the one syllable coming out tight and short.

“I really liked it,” Sofia added softly, sounding far more tentative than she had since they’d been introduced.

Dread washed over Dan as he slowly began to process the meaning behind Sofia’s words — she clearly followed him on Instagram. She was probably a fan. In his experience, no secrets were safe with fans — that’s why he’d always had pretty much anyone he let close sign an NDA.

He hadn’t even hesitated with Sofia, though — and that was about to be his downfall. His interest in makeup was probably destined to be broadcasted all over the covers of the tabloids by this time tomorrow.

Frozen, Dan stared at himself in the mirror, unable to properly look at Sofia. Unfortunately, this meant he was forced to watch the way horror and fear flooded his own eyes. The terror was plainly written on his face, and it was impossible for Sofia not to notice it, too.

“Fuck — I mean, uh, frick, I mean —” Sofia stopped her dotting of his nails, instead looking up at him like a deer in headlights.

The expression was so startled, so genuine, that a little bit of Dan’s fears ebbed away. She looked so genuinely taken aback, so honestly scared of Dan’s reaction to what she’d said, that Dan couldn’t help but question if his worries were misplaced.

“Cursing is fine Sofia,” Dan assured her, his voice tighter than he wanted it to be. He drug his tongue along his bottom lip, trying to decide how much he wanted to allow. His eyes flickered to the eyeshadow palette and then to the business card on the table. He decided to take a leap of faith. “Just say whatever you want to say.”

“Right,” Sofia mumbled and flushed red, clearly embarrassed. “I just meant, I liked it… like, as a fan, it was good to see, but…” Her eyes didn’t quite meet Dan’s as she trailed off.

“...But?” Dan prompted, heart racing.

“But, as a fellow bisexual, it was the best post I’ve seen all year.”

“Oh,” Dan breathed, blinking rapidly in surprise. “I — I…”

Suddenly words seemed impossible to Dan — something that wasn’t exactly great since he was supposed to be talking about this very topic on national television in less than an hour. But he had hardly expected his makeup artist to broach this conversation with him (and he definitely hadn’t expected to ask for fucking eyeshadow from her).

“Sorry, I made it weird,” Sofia apologized, her gaze dropping back to her hands as she started steadily dotting another heart on Dan’s nails.

“No!” Dan exclaimed more forcefully than intended. “I mean, no,” he corrected, voice softer this time. “It’s not weird.”

Peeking up from Dan’s nails, Sofia caught his gaze in the mirror. “It’s not?”

“No. I — I didn’t realize until I came out how little bisexual representation there was out there.” Dan’s gaze flickered from Sofia’s gaze to his nails as he contemplated the decision he was making — the decision he’d technically already made. But with every word, the decision felt like more and more of an active choice. “And now… well, it doesn’t seem fair for us to keep being alone.”

“Thank you,” Sofia said softly, a hint of disbelief in her voice that Dan so desperately wished didn’t have to be there. That doubt wouldn’t exist if more people spoke up, if more people were authentic and tried to live their truth. “From all of us. It’s hard not seeing people like ourselves in the media, so what you’re doing… it means a lot.”

“Every listener I have is going to know that bisexuality is a real thing if I can help it,” Dan asserted, voice fierce for the first time that night.

“That’s the spirit,” Sofia whispered conspiratorially.

Dan nodded once, not saying anything else.

Of all the conversations he’d imagined having just before filming The Tonight Show, this certainly wasn’t one of them. But now that it had happened, it felt exactly like the conversation he’d needed — a conversation to remind him why he was so passionate about professing his bisexuality. Passion that stemmed from somewhere deeper, somewhere more important that Isabella’s whiny slander.

a/n2: look i was gonna have the interview in this chapter but i got fucking excited and carried away, okay? 

[zoeykaytesmom]

What is Life (Chapter 3)

We meet Lauren Sullivan and unfortunately, Rafael’s father as well...

January 1991

@lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @gibbs274 @esparza-army @thatesparzacrush @tropes-and-tales @jramirezblogs @xemopeachx

“Uh, hey,” a blond girl said to Izzy as she walked to her AP English class.

“Hey?”

“I’m new here and I’m completely lost. I’m looking for Mrs. Fuentes AP English II class and I can’t make heads or tails of this map.”

“I’m on my way there now, actually. Come on.”

“Thank you. I’ve tried to ask some of the other girls but they just walk passed me like I’m not even there.”

“Trust me. I know exactly what you mean. I’m Izzy Rossetti by the way.”

“Lauren Sullivan. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Watch it, Rossetti,” Dawson laughed as he tried to knock her books out of her hands.

“And this fool is Antonio Dawson. Antonio this is Lauren Sullivan.”

“What’s up?”

“He has no manners. Ignore him.”

“Excuse me. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I gotta go. I’m gonna be late for French,” he told her as he practically ran off.

“Your boyfriend?”

“No. Just my friend. We’ve known each other all our lives practically.”

“Oh. He’s cute,” she giggled.

“Yeah, I guess he is,” Izzy agreed as they walked into the class. Izzy took her seat next to Rafael, behind her brother while Lauren took the empty desk behind Rafael.

“I hope everyone finished reading ‘Romeo & Juliet’,” their teacher announced as she walked in, shutting the door behind her to which most of the class rolled their eyes. “Oh, come on. Shakespeare isn’t that bad.”

“I just don’t get why people think that story is so romantic,” Rafael started. “If we have to read Shakespeare, then why not ‘Hamlet’ or ‘Macbeth’? Those are much more interesting than a story of teenagers whose families don’t get along and they end up killing themselves in the end. There’s nothing romantic about that.”

“What do you consider romantic, Mr. Barba?”

“You’re asking the wrong person,” he answered with a chuckle. “My parents are far from happy.”

“But I asked you the question.”

“Fine. To me, a romantic story would have an ending where the couple happily grows old together, maybe they go to sleep one night in their 80s, and that’s it. The end.”

Izzy didn’t know why but she started laughing to the point she had to cover her face with her book. Maybe it was his inflection but she could hardly contain herself.

“You find him entertaining, Miss Rossetti?”

“No, ma’am,” she said with a cough to curtail her laughter.

“You know, I sort of agree with Rafael,” Lauren quietly spoke up. “I mean Romeo killed himself for no reason because Juliet wasn’t actually dead. I understand he didn’t know that but honestly, my life is worth more to me than a forbidden love.”

Rafael looked back at the girl that sat behind him and sort of nodded with a smile.

“Okay, moving on,” Mrs. Fuentes laughed.

*****************

“So, what’s the story with your new friend?” Rafael asked as he and Izzy sat at the kitchen table in his parents apartment while they studied for their upcoming Geometry test.

“Lauren?”

“Yeah. She’s in our English class. I’ve seen her hanging out with you and Erin.”

“Uh, she just moved here from Philadelphia. One brother, one sister. Lives in Riverdale. Why?”

“No reason,” he shrugged.

“Liar. We’ve been friends for a year. I know better.”

“I mean, she’s cute. She seems nice.”

“Well, she is coming to stay the night with me Friday.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And you’re going to call her.”

“I am?”

“8:00 sharp.”

“I won’t be interrupting a pillow fight, will I?”

“Shut up.”

“What are you two doing?” They heard his dad say as he sort of stumbled into the kitchen.

“Just studying,” Rafael answered without looking up from his book.

“You ever gonna tell this girl you’re in love with her?”

“Dad!”

“What? Izzy, can you not tell my son is head over heels in love with you and has been for a year?”

“Why don’t you have another drink?”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Rafael.”

To say Rafael’s father was an asshole was an understatement. He had never went into detail but Izzy knew they constantly fought. Rafael liked to read, liked to learn, and he was horrible at sports as a child. His father had told him over and over again he wasn’t the son he wanted because of that reason alone.

“You know what? I just remembered I’m supposed to pick up Erin.”

“Yeah, okay, Izz. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She gathered up her books and things, said a small good-bye to Rafael’s dad, and left.

“Did you really have to do that?”

“Do you even like girls?”

“What’s the supposed to mean?”

“Izzy, Yelina…you’ve never made a move on either of them. You took Izzy to a dance a year ago but couldn’t seal the deal.”

“There was no deal to seal.”

“I bet you’re still a virgin, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to my room.”

“I’m not done talking to you, boy,” his father told him as he pinned him against the wall.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Rafael told his dad as he pushed him away.

He went to his room and shut his door. “One of these days,” he thought to himself as he sat at his desk as his hand curled into a fist. He hated the fact that his dad was right, though. He had been crazy about Izzy since the day they met.

He wanted to kiss her at the dance he took her to and even after but Erin had made that practically impossible. Sure, they spent a lot of time together, especially during the summer and he could’ve made a move but he was afraid she wouldn’t welcome it.

Just like Yelina, he thought Izzy was too pretty for him and would never be interested in someone like him.

*********************

June 1991

“So, when will Lauren be home?” Tony asked Rafael as they sat on the couch in Bensonhurst, playing Super Mario Brothers 3.

“Next week. Wednesday, I think.”

“Things going pretty good there?”

“Yeah seem to be,” Rafael smiled. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“Seriously, man?”

“I just thought…I figured you and my sister would’ve ended up dating by now.”

“Your sister doesn’t see me like that. She never will. She’s got Antonio after all.”

“They’re not really dating. They just hang out.”

“Oh, I didn’t see him kiss her the other day when they got back from the movies?”

“But they’re not really…I don’t know.”

“I like Lauren. Anything I felt for your sister or Yelina is gone.”

“Okay. I won’t mention it again.”

“Where is she today anyways?”

“Her and Erin went swimming. They both had the day off from our uncle’s pizza place so they’re taking advantage.”

About an hour later, Izzy and Erin came in. Erin was sunburned from head to toe basically.

“Hey, Rock Lobster.”

“Fuck off, Tony.”

“Language, Erin,” Stella teased as she came downstairs.

“Sorry, Stella. I don’t just tan like your sister.”

“Yeah but they make this stuff called sunblock that you’re aware of, right?”

“Ha, ha, Barba.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. I mean this could’ve been avoided.”

“He’s right.”

“I’ve heard enough from Izzy, thank you both.”

“Erin go into my kitchen, get a bottle of vinegar, and then go upstairs, run a cool/lukewarm bath, put the vinegar in the water and get in it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And stay upstairs afterwards. We don’t want to smell pickles all over the place.”

“Leave her alone, Tony,” his sister scolded.

“I was only kidding.”

Rafael couldn’t help but look his best friend up and down, albeit discreetly, as she stood in her shorts and very soaked tank top.

Yeah, he had feelings for Lauren, there was no mistaking that, but he still kicked himself for not making a move their freshman year after the winter formal.

“So, what do you two have planned for the rest of the day?”

“Just playing video games,” Tony answered his sister.

“And I would for the two of you to move it upstairs please. Your dad will be home any minute and very tired. Izzy, I’d like you and Erin to keep it down tonight as well. After the fire they had to deal with on 86th, he’s going to be very exhausted.”

“No problem, Ma,” the twins answered in unison.

“I mean it. All of you.”

Erin’s parents were out of town while her older brother Steven was in the police academy and they didn’t really want Erin at home alone so she was staying with Izzy while they were gone.

The guys unhooked the Nintendo to take to Tony’s room while Izzy went up to her room.

“I might smell like a pickle but I’m not stinging as bad as I was,” Erin said as she walked in the bedroom with pink walls that held a “Ghostbusters” movie poster, a Beastie Boys poster, a RUN-DMC poster, and a Duran Duran poster.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t use the sunblock,” Izzy laughed as she flipped through “Seventeen” magazine. “When you’re 30, you’re gonna look like a 30-year-old handbag.”

“Kiss my ass. What are the moron twins doing?”

“I resent that. Oh, you meant Tony and Rafael. They’re playing video games I suppose.”

“Why don’t we go to the movies or something?”

“I am not going to see ‘Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves’ again, Erin.”

“How many times did I go watch ‘Lethal Weapon 2’? Besides, you know Kevin Costner is hot.”

“That may be true but we’ve seen it twice. Plus, you know who’s really hot? Christian Slater.”

“True story. Ooh, let’s watch ‘Pump Up the Volume’.”

“Works for me. I’ll see if Mom will let us order a pizza.”

[calistapledger]

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

“What. The. Fuck?” was all I had to say when Dominic’s voice announced that Annelise was the new Queen on the screen. Poor Izzy and Vad, they were robbed. At least if either of them were picked, the kingdom would been in good hands, but now? Annelise barely ever said anything. I can’t trust a Queen who I never knew. Aly, who had his arm lazily slung around me, sat up at the profanity. “I don't think I've heard you swear before.” I pointed frantically at the screen. “HE'S AN IDIOT FOR NOT PICKING VAD OR IZZY!” I stood up abruptly, remembering the two girls and made my way to the phone. I waited as the phone rang. She finally picked up on the third ring. “Izzy? Is that you??” I had to make sure, the last time I called Cia I had dialled the wrong number. “Yes it's me. Cal! You won't believe this, Dom made his final decision.” “Yeah I saw, and Aly called me out for swearing, what a wuss! Are you okay? I want to beat his royal ass.” Sympathy rung clear in my tone. She laughed before responding, I liked cheering her up even momentarily. “It's good to hear you and Aly are still close.” She sighs, resigned. “Yes I'm fine I guess. I should have seen this coming.” “Oh! I didn't tell you. I'm so sorry, you were all so busy with the Selection. I should have called. I'm studying in Angeles Uni now! And I've just moved in with Aly recently. I thought either you or Vad would be a shoo in for Queen.” “Oh my god Cal! You moved in with him! That's amazing!” I smiled, knowing news about Aly and I would make her happy. She has always been his number one fan along with Cia. “It's not that amazing, we aren't getting married or anything. It was convenient since the dorm room fees were going up. But yeah it's been fun living with him. So what are you going to do now?” “You will get married in the future! I tell you that. I don't know what to do, I'm still in Angeles right now.” I rolled my eyes at the marriage remark. I widened my eyes when she mentioned still being in Angeles. Now, I had to visit her. “Maybe I don't want to get married.” I said in a cheeky manner before revealing my excitement with her still in town. “YOU'RE STILL HERE? I'M COMING OVER, which hotel are you at?” “It's called The Xhibition.” Her laughter was like having endorphins pumped into your brain, you could be at your absolute worse, yet Izzy’s laughter can cure it. “I know where that is! I'll be right over, stay put Faulker, your human care package is coming over.” I turned away from the receiver to yell at Aly, “ALY I'M GOING OUT TO MEET IZZY!” “I’m right here, darling.” He said from the couch. I forgot he was by my side moments ago. I smiled cheekily before kissing him on the cheek. I then went to get ready and made my way to her hotel. *** Within 20 minutes, I was in her room, raving about the treatment I received. “Izzy, they knew me as a Selected and let me right up. It's amazing.” “All the benefits of being a former Selected.” She chuckled while I smirked lazily. “Being a Ledger never had these perks.” I navigated her bed, sat on t and patted the spot next to me. When the bed dipped with her weight, I turned to her seriously, “Now, are you really okay?” “To be honest, he did break my heart and I was hurt. But someone really nice helped me to sort my feelings and emotions out and now I'm okay.” “Awww, come here you.” I hug her tightly, “He doesn't deserve you, an absolute sweetheart. You should take all the time you need to feel better but may I ask who helped you with your emotions? Debs?” I had my suspicions that it wasn't Deb but I didn't want to assume otherwise. “No, not Debbie.” She smiles nonchalantly. “Just some guard.” Her voice lightened up when talking about the guard. I giggled, because it reminded me of me when I first took a liking to Aly. “I know I shouldn't be encouraging this because you do need time to heal, but he doesn't sound like some guard to me.” “Aw Cal, I'll be fine and he's my friend so we will see. You go focus on you and Aly, and keep me updated.” She made it sound like goodbye and I teasingly narrowed my eyes at her. “Isabella Melisende Faulkner, are you kicking me out?” “No, no! You're more than welcome to stay.” I could tell she was smiling kindly. Then we hear a crash, I turn to see a figure sprawled onto the floor. “Cal, you should meet someone…” She says shyly. I quickly connect the dots and follow the man’s silhouette as he gets up from the door. I clicked my tongue at him at my revelation. “Ah, so you're the reason Izzy is kicking me out.” I have never heard anyone whip their head towards me as fast as Izzy did when I made that faux accusation. “No no, I'm not kicking you out. Thomas was just leaving.” She turns back to Thomas and I assume she was gesturing to him to leave. I tittered at the gesture before assuring her. “Iz, I was teasing. You deserve to be happy, like how you and the girls helped me with Aly, I'll leave you two be.” I looked over at Thomas’s blurry silhouette, “Hurt her and I will kill you. Just because I'm blind doesn't make me less of a threat.” I give him my sickly sweet smile. “Bye now, promise you'll visit Aly and I soon, I'll text you our address.” I turned to smile at Iz normally and hug her tightly. “Cal you're crazy! And yes I promise I will visit you!” “That's why you love me.” I winked at her. I passed her, her care package and said my final goodbyes and left. One girl done, one more to go. *** I was worried about Vad. Izzy liked Dom but I’m sure Vad was in love with him. I mentally prepared myself to tread carefully with her as I waited for her to pick up my call. “Hey Vad, is that you? I'm really sorry I've only now used your number. I just heard the news and honestly, What the fuck.” It was incredibly liberating to swear. I remember the girl from Bonita who first entered The Selection; so innocent and naive. Primp and proper, God, how was I ever that girl? “Hello to you too, Cal!” “Are you doing okay? I know how much you liked him.” “Don't worry about me. Sure, my feelings got hurt, but hey, that's just how things like the Selection work.” She sounded incredibly dejected. I felt awful, I wish I could ease her pain. “I'd like to very much beat up his royal ass.” I tried to lighten the mood. “Don't bother, I'll move on someday.” “Well who says we can't start the process now? I just ended my visit with Izzy, are you still in Angeles?” This girl needed cheering up and I planned to act as her Fairy Godmother of Moving On for the day. “Yes! I still am! I'm at the Hotel Gautier!” “I'll grab a cab over, I'm not sure that is. Stay put, Leventhorpe and be ready to be pampered.” I giggled and she laughed along before responding, “Well, Ledger! Get ready for one of the craziest days of your life too.” She was truly an amazing girl, my only regret now was not spending enough time with her during the Selection. 20 minutes later, I was in her room, repeating my raving to Vad. “I still cannot get over the perks of being a former Selected, they recognised me instantly and gave me your room key!” She came closer and opened her arms to me. “Well, you're definitely one of the more unique girls! It's so nice to see you!” “Aww you are too. It's great seeing you. Again I apologise for not contacting you since I left, it's been crazy and I can tell you all about that later but first, I brought you something!” I hand over the care package. While Izzy’s was filled with muffins and lovely smelling soaps and other items of soft pampering, I got Vad some hard hitting stuff. It reflected their personalities and also it was a scale of how much moving on they had to do. “It's everything you need to get over that ass.” “Is it Vodka? I'm kidding, you're too sweet for giving me this!” I was right to get her alcohol. “More like Vadka,” I giggled before listing the other items in the package, “and ice cream, facial masks and trashy magazines. This is the royal treatment you deserve.” “Aweeee, thank you so much!! Now, I want to hear about what you've been up to since you've left!” We moved to her bed for a good ole catching up session. I breathed in deeply before delving into the shit show that was my love story with Aly. She listened intently, providing encouraging comments when appropriate. She congratulated me on being accepted into Angeles Uni and told me that Aly sounds sweet. Honestly, where was I when this girl was in the Palace? She was a saint and Dominic was an idiot for letting her go. “I'd love to meet this "Aly" sometime! But wow, what are you studying? Engineering?” “He's working today unfortunately. Yep engineering is my major and I'm minoring in Creative Writing, my brother actually shares the same class it was a huge surprise.” I remembered Eurus almost picking a fight with Aly and shook my head, shaking away the memory. “Well, maybe I could meet Aly the next time I visit Angeles. It's great to hear that you're here with family too!” “'Visit'? This isn't permanent?” I could hear my own voice drop with disappointment. “I'm going back to college in Hudson this January, actually.” She turned her head away, probably to hide tears, I don’t know why I can’t see them. “And, I'll be visiting my sisters in Europe for the next three months. I feel like it's good to lay low for the next few months.” “Aww no here I thought I could call you up if Aly and I decide to elope. I giggled to lighten the mood. “Laying low would probably be best, I'm going to miss you.” “I just need to stay away from anything about the Selection, but if you do need a wedding planner, you could always call me! I'll be happy to flyback for you.” “Awww thank you! But Aly and I are taking it slow but I'll hit you up if I ever come to Europe in the next few months.” We hugged it out and as I pulled away, I smirked at her. “So craziest day of my life huh? I feel like we're just gonna drink and watch stupid movies.” “Well, I was thinking of shopping, drinking, and stupid movies... so you're 67% right.” She laughed, she really as obsessed with her stats. While Izzy’s laugh was endorphins, Vad’s was like Christmas bells. Sometimes, it was comforting to just be able to listen rather than see. “Oh no, shopping...I'll be honest I've never been much of a shopper.” My tone was sheepish. “You're with me! Shopping is one of my favorite past times!” Why wasn’t I surprised? “How do you handle all the walking?” I chuckled. “Very comfortable shoes.” She laughs. We spent the rest of the day playing drinking games, - the amount of scandalous things I found out about her - watching Disney movies because those are the best and we ended the day with shopping. I was extremely exhausted but Vad had picked amazing outfits for me, well according to her. I could only see so much but I’ll admit the colours were fabulous. I practically collapsed by the time I reached home. As always, Aly was there to catch me. “Promise me, you’ll do all future shopping. It is extremely exhausting.” He could only laugh at that as he pulled me into a comforting hug. It felt nice to be in his arms and not dying under the weight of shopping bags. Vad held onto 20 bags effortlessly, it was astonishing. “Come on, let's get you to bed, sleepyhead.” He lifted me bridal style and walked towards our bedroom. “Thank you, Wakeyhead. I love you.” “Wakeyhead? That's new. I love you too.” I was fast asleep in his arms before we even reached the bed.

[babylon-bitch]

Just Friends ~ If This Is Love, Then Fuck It (part 42)

A/N: FUCK AND IM SO SORRY

Harper White is best friends with Luke Hemmings, they always have been. Not only is she friends with the rockstar, but with the rest of 5 Seconds Of Summer, as well as a really nice girl named Erika.

Harper has a few secrets, she can play all the instruments the boys play and many more. It’s a talent she has kept hidden, only very few people know.

What will happen to the six teens, wondering around the world together?

***

I come home for Christmas break today, instead of flying out to England, everyone is flying out to Australia this year. We’ve only done it this way two or three times before, everyone just wanted a bit of Sun. Most of my family is already out there, it’s just Josh, Angus, Evie, and I that are yet to fly out. We’ve landed, just waiting to be picked up by our parents.

I’ve been busy as fuck recently, do you know how hard it is to balance a social life and have lectures most days? Sure, when I was home the boys, girls, and I hung out all the time, but it was just different, we didn’t really do much, just ate, layed around, and insulted each other. With my friends back at university, we don’t exactly do much, but we all have different interests and get along really well, so we have weird chats about a mixture of things.

In my friend group I have Tori, Izzy, Juliet, Blake and all of his friends. Blake and I surprisingly get along really well, we had a lecture together and we talked a lot. Then Tori, Izzy, and I got invited to a party that one of Blake’s friend’s was hosting, we ended up in the ‘popular kids’ circle, where we met Juliet. She is the host’s girlfriend and I sat next to her, we hit it off really well, that’s basically my friend group now. Never thought I’d be friends with some of the biggest fuckboys. Who am I kidding? I’m best friends with Calum Hood.

My relationship with them all, besides the girls of course, can be flirty at times. I don’t return it, because I’m kinda taken by the love of my life. I just laugh it off, throw an insult, put them down, you name it. I’ve flirted back a couple of times but it’s all just jokes. They do know I’ve got a boyfriend, so they don’t go all hard-core. You see these people and you think they are gonna be the biggest dicks or so self centred, but they are actually some of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. They’re definitely not your stereotypical fuckboys, sure, they can be cocky as fuck or dicks, but not all the time, most of the time they are really caring, nice, kind, and funny.

We all get on really well and I couldn’t ask for any better friends. Now I know what you are thinking, what about the boys and the girls? We are still really close, drifted apart a little bit but we usually talk everyday. Luke hasn’t talked to me as much as we used to but I can understand that because he has been so busy.

There were a load of paparazzi pictures of Luke and another girl holding hands, coming out of a club. I confronted him about it, he just said she needed a ride home and was so drunk, so he helped her. I took his words and let it go because it seems like something he’d do.

I’m so excited to see my best friends again, you have no idea. I was a little sad to say goodbye to my friends but I gave them all a hug, before I was on my merry way.

“Mummy!” Josh, Angus, and I shriek as we spot our mum.

“Daddy!” Evie shrieks as she sees her dad.

“My babies.” She grins and pulls us each into an individual embrace. “I’ve missed you so much.” She tells me.

“I missed you too.” I smile.

“Where is everyone else?” Josh asks.

“They’re at home, it’s just me and Mark.” She explains.

“Can we go home? I really wanna see Luke.” I beg.

“Love you too.” She laughs.

“Mum,” I whine, “it takes an hour to get home from here, I need to see my friends.” I pout.

“Suck a dick Harper,” Angus laughs and pushes me towards the airport doors.

We make our way towards the car, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

“I’m so nervous” I state.

“Why? You should be happy.” Josh says.

“I know, I don’t know why I’m nervous.” I sigh.

“Maybe because you’ve got a new boyfriend called Blake.” Angus purposely says it a little louder so my mum can definitely hear him.

“I thought you were with Luke Harper?” My mum asks and I sigh.

“I’m gonna shove this pen so far up your ass, Angus.” I mutter. “I am mum, Angus is just being a dick. Blake is one of my friends from uni.” I explain.

“Oh, okay, is he cute?” She looks at me through the mirror.

“Um, what?”

“Is he cute? Could you see Evie with him?” She questions.

“What the fuck, mum? I’m not gonna let him near Evie, he’s not exactly one for relationships.” I answer.

“Honestly, is he hot though.” Evie asks.

“There is someone called Luke, you know,” I say. “Do you wanna see a picture of him?” I question with a sigh.

“Finally,” Josh cheers.

I pull my phone out of my bra then go on my camera roll, looking at the picture we took past nights. “Here,” I pass my phone to Evie.

“Holy shit, you actually know this guy?” She questions,

“Geez, Harper, you should really hop on that.” Angus laughs.

“Do you guys not like Luke or something?” I ask.

“Of course, but like, have you seen him?” Josh says.

Yeah, I have. I’m not gonna deny that’s he’s hot.

“Luke, my boyfriend for nearly a year in January.” I cry out.

“I’m sorry, Harper. We’ll stop, you already have a hot boyfriend.” Evie apologises.

“Key word- my boyfriend.” I tell her.

“Who would you pick Evie? Blake or Luke?” Angus questions.

“Well Harper already has Luke, so sister-code and all that so, I’d have to go with Blake. Though, Luke is some fine piece of ass.” Evie says.

“This conversation is over, Luke is mine, you guys can have Blake, but he is one of the biggest fuckboys ever, so feel free to get your heart broken.”

It’s a while later now and we are coming up to our road. I’m so excited to see my people’s. Everyone is at our house, all the guys, the girls, and all of our family that made it over.

My mum parks the car, and Josh jumps out, me following, then Evie slams the door behind us. Angus comes out of the front seat, closing his door at the same time as my mum, causing it to make a loud bang. Mark parks his car on the curb, the sound of David Bowie filling my ears. “Oh my God, he’s so cringy.” Evie mutters her face in her palm.

“Holy shit, it’s so hot.” I whine and unzip my hoodie.

“You ready to go in?” Mum asks us.

“Uh, yeah.” I nod.

We walk in and I take in the familiar scent of vanilla, nothing has really change but it just seems weird to be here again.

“Everyone is in the garden.” Mark informs.

I glance out of the kitchen window and see the familliar quiffed hair. Walking out of the back door and into the garden, looking at all the decorations that have been put up. Fairy lights are hung up, some in the trees, for some reason a load of balloons have been blown up, they are amusing the little ones.

I see all the boys and girls talking and laughing together. Luke turns his head, just taking a look at everything, when suddenly we make eye contact, causing a huge grin to appear on both of our faces.

“Go get him, Blake has nothing on him.” Evie tells me.

I run up towards him and throw myself at him, Luke instantly catches me, nuzzling his face into my neck, I wrap my legs around his waist, nuzzling my face into his neck. I wrap my arms around his neck, whilst he has one hand on my waist, and the other on my thigh. Luke places a few kisses on my neck before we pull back and look at each other. Luke has something weird lurking in his eyes but I look past it, because I’m finally seeing my boyfriend again.

“You’re actually here.” He whispers and I nod with tears in my eyes. “Don’t cry, baby girl.” He smiles.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I tell him and wipe away the few tears that fell.

Luke presses his lips to mine, something I’ve been craving for months. Our lips move together slowly, full of passion. Usually I’d try and decline a kiss from Luke if we were around family, but that’s probably the last thing on my mind right now.

Luke licks my bottom lip and I gladly let him in, we explore each others mouths for the first time in months, and damn does it feel good.

“I love you.” Luke tells me as we pull apart.

“Love you too,” I repeat back in a heartbeat and I always will.

“I know you are in love and all that, but I kinda missed Harper too.” Michael interrupts us, making me chuckle.

“I’ll be with you in a minute.” I tell Luke and give him a quick kiss.

He lets go of me and I walk over and hug all of my bestfriends. “I’ve missed you all so much.” I tell them.

“Looks like you’ve already moved on though,” Maddie mutters.

“Shut the fuck up or I will actually move on.” I threat.

“Woah, period Harper is here again.” Maddie teases.

“No, I finished that a couple days ago.” I inform her.

“Oh, thank God.” Luke says.

“Yes!” Ashton and Luke high five.

I ignore them and go and say hello to everyone else, which fucking hell, I didn’t know I knew so many people.

“Could I have your attention everyone?” I hear the familiar voice of my dad.

“No, my attention is not on you.” Angus shouts.

“I will disown you,” he tells him, causing us all to laugh. “Moving on. Could I have my beautiful girlfriend up here?” He asks.

“That sounds so weird, considering their age.” Michael speaks up and I nod my head in agreement.

I lean my head back on Luke’s chest, as he wraps his arms around my form, giving my head a kiss.

I watch as my mum walks up to my father, a small smile adorning her face. He greets her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Holy shit.” I gasp.

All of sudden my dad gets down on one knee, pulls out a red velvet box and opens up, reavealing a beautiful ring. It looks like the one she used to wear on her finger before they had a huge fight.

I remember the fight, I had just gotton out of the shower, I looked down the stairs and saw my mother and father. They were screaming at each other, then suddenly she rips the ring off her finger, throwing it at him, then walking out the door. I burst into sobs, but had to cover my mouth in case he heard me, and then I ran into my room, before calling Luke.

“Woah, babe, why is your heart beating so fast?” Luke quietly asks and removes his hand from my heart.

“I’m not really sure…” I trail off.

He does the whole speech, whilst my mind goes back on memories of the many fights they had.

I’m happy that they are gonna do this, I love them and all, but I just can’t help my mind going back to all the dreadful and terrifying memories.

“So Sarah, will you marry me, again?” He questions.

“Of course, Andrew.” She nods and wipes away some tears.

He takes the ring out of the box, gingerly slipping it onto her finger, they stand up and give eachother a kiss, before hugging. Everyone claps and cheers for them.

I try to suppress an eye roll that came from no where.

“You okay?” Luke whispers into my ear.

“Uh, yeah.” I nod.

“Harper, you’re like an open book to me. You’re not okay.” He says.

“Umm, uh…”

“You’re scared aren’t you, why are you scared?” He asks.

“I guess, I’m worried that it’s gonna happen all again.” I admit.

“It’ll be fine, I promise, if they do start again, you’ll always have me.” He smiles but there is something about his smile that seems off.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

“Yeah, why?” He asks.

“You seem a little off.” I tell him.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” He kisses me.

“Okay.” I shrug and give him another kiss.

Luke and I go up towards the newly engaged couple. “Congratulations, mum and and dad.” I grin and go hug them.

“Thank you, dear.” My mum smiles.

***

“LUKE!” I scream as he tackles me into the pool, him coming with me.

Resurfacing and spitting water out of my mouth. “Yeah, babe?” He innocently asks and pulls me towards him.

“I hate you, I wasn’t ready to jump in yet.” I pout.

“Sorry, baby.” He kisses my pout.

I wrap my legs around his waist, causing his hands to go to my ass. “You’re forgiven,” I smile and squish his cheeks together.

“You guys are so cute it makes me want to put my hand in a blender.” Ashton says.

“What the fuck?” I laugh.

“You’re really cute.” Luke tells me.

“What do you want?” I sigh.

“What do you mean?” He questions.

“You only call me cute when you want something,” I inform him.

“Am I not allowed to call my girl cute?” He asks.

“Whatever,” I smirk.

“I mean, you’re more hot than cute right now to be honest.” Luke laughs.

“Because you can see my cleavage?” I question.

“Pretty much.” He nods with a laugh.

“To think you were actually giving me a complement.”

“You know I think you’re beautiful.” He smiles and gives me a kiss.

Unexpectedly, the kiss gets pretty heated, it’s slow and passionate.

It’s Christmas day, nothing has really kicked off yet. We’ve only opened our presents and that’s it. We’re all waiting for Christmas lunch/dinner, which will be in an hour or so, we all decided to some it at our house this year. Luke slept round last night, then his family came over at around 8 o'clock. Most of my family have gone to a hotel not that far away, we’ve only got one spare bedroom and my grandparents are staying in there.

Erika, Maddie, Ashton, Calum and Michael are over right now, only for a little bit before they go home and finish off their Christmas with their own families. We’re just chilling by the pool or sun bathing.

Erika and Maddie are sitting at the edge, dangling their feet in whilst they talk to each other. Calum, Michael, and Ashton are swimming and messing around together, although Ashton is on his phone whilst in the pool, which with past experience; is not very wise.

Luke presses my back up against the side of the pool, removing a hand from my ass, to my hair. Luke begins to trail kisses down my neck and I lean to the side to give him more access.

“Alright, we don’t need to watch you guys fuck, we’ve got Maddie and Erika for our porn subscription.” The voice of Calum hood interrupts us.

“At least I’m getting some.” I tell him.

“Shut the fuck up, Harper.” He yells.

“Love you.” I say in a sickly sweet voice.

“You’re in for it, White.” Calum threats and flicks water at me, causing me to squeal.

Soon enough, Calum and I are in a war. I pick up a water gun from the side of the pool and I start spraying Calum. Luke turns his back on me and passes Calum the other one, making me spray Luke.

“I’m defenceless!” He cries out.

I make my way out of the pool, only to feel Luke’s arms wrap around my waist, causing me to scream.

“Luke!” I giggle.

“Yes, baby?” He ask and kisses my neck.

“Get off me.” I beg.

“Not a chance.” He smirks and sweeps me off my feet, running towards the pool again.

“No, no, no, no, NO! Luke, please! I’ll do anything for you!” I plead.

“Anything?” He questions holding me above the water.

“Yes, anything.”

“Promise you’ll never break up with me?” He asks.

“Why would I break up with you?” I question.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs.

“I promise I’ll never break up with you if you promise to not throw me in, so put me down.” I promise.

“I promise, thank you.” He grins and puts me back down on the ground. All of a sudden Luke pushes me into the pool.

So much for promises.

“I’m breaking up with you!” I declare as I resurface.

“What? No, you can’t do that.” He whines.

Luke dives in, splashing me in the process. “You can’t break up with me, you promised to never break up with me!” He states.

“You promised not to throw me in.” I tell him.

“I didn’t throw you in though.” He claims.

“Whatever, we’re over.” I inform him.

“Babe!” He pouts.

Luke proceeds to try and kiss me but I don’t kiss him back. “I have a boyfriend.” I tell him.

“Damn right you do.” He says.

“Here he comes, hey Michael! Babe, come and defend me, I’ve got a weird creep trying to hit on me.” I call do Michael.

“No! I’m your boyfriend.” He moans and drop he and down on my shoulder.

“Could you please not touch my girlfriend,” Michael asks Luke.

“Nooooooo, Harper,” he groans. “If Michael was your boyfriend, could he do this?” Luke questions and puts his hands on my boobs, causing me to burst out laughing.

“Okay, I’ll take you back,” I smile and place my hands over his hands, which are still on my boobs. “You don’t have to hold them anymore, Luke.” I inform him.

“Kinda like holding them to be honest.” He shrugs and gives them a squeeze before holding my neck and kissing me instead.

It’s a while later now and I’m currently texting in the group chat, not the originals, but my uni friends.

Me: my parents got engaged the other day

Blake: only recently?

Me: they were married but got a divorce when I was 15, it’s a long story.

Tyler: so you want me to go with you as a date? Geez, didn’t think I was gonna meet the parent’s just yet. 😏

Me: no, I’m gonna take my boyfriend, you dick.

Izzy: who’s your boyfriend Harper?

It’s become an inside joke between us all, I think they know I’m dating Luke but I’ve never admitted it. Luke doesn’t even know how much he is talked about.

Me: I’m not going into this today

Blake: Harper, Michael Clifford didn’t post any pictures of you and Luke Hemmings did he? Nor did Ashton Irwin post videos of you guys practically fucking with him making a funny voice over?

“Irwin! Clifford!” I scold.

Me: nope

Tori: strange 🙊

Me: I hate you guys :(

I send a picture of me pouting then put my phone down, before crawling onto Luke’s lap.

***

It’s a couple of days later now and Luke and I are currently in my room just messing around.

“When do you go on tour again?” I ask.

“A week tomorrow.” He answers and trails his fingers tips up my thigh.

“Do you have to go?” I pout.

“Kinda, yeah,” he nods with a laugh. “Anyway you’ve got school to go to, across the world.” He points out and kisses my pout.

“Why can’t we just live in Hawaii together?” I whine and roll onto my back.

“You’ve never been,” Luke laughs and straddles my hips.

“It could be even more magical then, like it’s the first time I’ve ever gone and also the last place.” I explain.

“That’s a bit depressing to be honest,” he notes as he kisses my neck.

“You would think that.” I tell him.

“Just shut up, babe.” He laughs against my neck, causing me to shudder.

“Why?” I question, raising an eyebrow, even though he can’t see my face, as his face is buried in my neck.

“I’m trying to set the mood and I don’t know about you, but talking about Hawaii isn’t turning me on.” He informs as he sucks on the base of my throat.

“Who said this is gonna go further?” I tease.

“You know damn well that this is gonna go further than just a lil’ make out. Anyway, I’m Luke Hemmings, I’m trying to understand why your clothes are still on.” He lifts his head up, just so he can give me a smirk.

“Subtle,” I nod and reach for my t-shirts’ hemline.

“Do you actually want to do this? I mean, your family is right below us.” Luke asks.

“We did it yesterday.” I state.

“Yeah and nearly got walked in on by your aunt Lauren, Angus, and Reuben! I had to lay on top of you and pretend we were sleeping.” He exclaims.

“There’s food and Gavin and Stacy going on, they won’t come up here.” I tell him.

“If we get walked in on, I’m breaking up with you.” He says.

“Deal.”

Luke takes his shirt off, throwing it to the side and dives to my now exposed chest. He seems a little apprehensive about it.

I play with the hair on the back of his head, cauing him to groan in pleasure when I tug on it because he sucked on a sweet spot.

Luke trails down my stomach and rubs circles on my hips with his thumbs.

As he gets to the waistband of my jeans, he freezes.

“What’s up?” I question.

“Uh, n-nothing,” he stutters and unbuttons my jeans.

I shrug it off and lay my head back on the pillows.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He whispers and does my jeans up again, before crawling off me and sits on the edge of my bed.

“Luke, what’s wrong?” I question and scoot towards him.

“Uh, I can’t do this to you any more.” He says and passes me my shirt.

We both put our shirts on again and I watch Luke intently.

“Luke, what’s going on?” I question, my voice filled with worry.

“Uh, just kiss me and make it special.” He tells me.

“What?” I question.

Luke just walks towards me and presses me against the wall. He gently places his lips onto mine and ever so lightly holds my waist. Luke works his lips against mine, agonisingly slowly. He gingerly slides his tongue into my mouth, our tongues mingle together before he pulls apart from me. I open my eyes and meet his tear filled ones.

“Come with me,” he says.

I follow him out of my door, down the stairs, and into the garden. My heart is racing, hands slightly shaking, and my palms are sweating.

Luke leads me towards the trampoline and climbs on it with me following. We lay down, facing the scorching Australian Sun.

“You gonna tell me what your mini breakdown was for?” I question.

“I’m so sorry, so fucking sorry.” He sobs.

“Luke, just spit it out.” I sigh.

“I-I ha-, no, when we were on tour, we went out one night, and I fucked shit up for us. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry for what I did, I can never forgive myself, I broke so many promi-”

“Luke, just tell me what you did,” I cut him off, tears forming in my eyes.

“I cheated on you.” He blurts out.

Just like that, my world comes crashing down. It’s like playing Jenga, you stupidly take out the wrong block and the whole tower of blocks come tumbling down. You could of easily taken an easier and different brick, but no, you had to take the fucked up one, the trickiest, the non convenient one, the most heart breaking one.

“Are you okay?” I ask

“What?” He questions, his voice breaking as he speaks.

“You’ve been hiding this secret for quite a while, by the looks of it. I could see something was eating you up, but I just looked past it. I don’t like when things do that to you.” I explain.

“Don’t Harper this situation.” He gives me a pointed look.

“Why’d you do it?” I ask, tears streaming down my face.

“I don’t know, I know it’s not an excuse but I was drunk, I was craving comfort from you. So a girl came onto me, I was drunk, horny, was needing your comfort, so I just took the closest thing, then it ended up here. I’m so sorry, Harper.” He explains.

“So your needs ruined this relationship?” I question, a sob following after.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, it meant nothing to me. Please forgive me,” he begs.

“Forgive you? You just broke my heart with four words, did this past year mean nothing to you? Or these past eighteen years? Luke, our one year anniversary is coming up in two days!” I exclaim.

“I’m sorry, Harper, I really am.” He sobs.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Luke. How could you? Do I mean nothing to you? You promised me, I put my trust in you.” I cry.

“You mean the world to me, h-”

“Obviously not enough to your drunken state,” I cut him off.

“Harper, you need to understand me.” He begs.

“Why should I, Luke?” I spit.

“We love each other, you and I go together so well. I fucked up, I a-admit that, I’m sorry, I feel awful, you put your trust in me and I tore it into a million pieces, I broke our promises, I’ve wrecked everything, and it’s one thing that I-I’ll never forgive myself for and regret. Harp, I’m s-sorry, I’ll do anything for you, just understand that I’m sorry.”

“Love each other? Luke, you fucking cheated on me, you love me so much! You may be sorry, that doesn’t do anything.” I raise my voice through my tears. “The only thing you can do is leave me.”

***

“Harper! Luke!” I hear the voice of Lily squeal.

Luke and I have been arguing for a couple of hours now, I’ve gone through so many tears and sobs. I’m hurting so much, how could he do such a thing? I’m his best friend.

“Hello.” I try and greet with a happy voice.

“Hi!” She grins and climbs onto the trampoline with us.

“Why are you both crying?” She asks.

“We’re crying of laughter, you see, Luke made a joke saying that he loved me, and I believed him and put my trust in him.” I tell her whilst glaring at Luke.

“Harper,” Luke warns and leans his head on one of the poles that’s holding up the netting.

“What, Luke? Afraid of the truth?” I question.

“I don’t see how that’s funny.” Lilly says.

“Me either, Lilly,” Luke agrees.

“Lilly!” The sound of Lauren’s voice fills my ears.

“Yes, mummy?” She asks.

“Come on, leave Luke and Harper alone, they have some stuff to sort out.” She says and walks towards up.

“But I want to play with Luke and the trampoline.” She whines and I cough to get her attention.

“Maybe later, come on.” She nods her head towards the house, with her arms out.

“Fine, I’ll see you later.” Lilly pouts and waves.

Lauren gives me a sympathetic smile before walking off with Lilly on her hip.

Everyone that’s in the house knows that we’re arguing, mainly because we were shouting/screaming at each, I also saw a few of them in the kitchen window, from the corner of my eye, that was when it was a deafening silence and we were both crying.

I think anyone is a three mile radiance heard us.

“I don’t know what to say Luke, out of all the people in the world, I would’ve least expected it from you.” I tell him.

“Me too. I know I’ve said it a million times, but I mean it, I’m sorry and I regret it so much. I don’t even remember her name.” He sighs.

I roll my eyes at his response and play with a loose thread in my jeans.

“So this is it?” I ask.

“I think so.” Luke nods.

“We couldn’t prevent it Luke, you brought this on yourself.” I say.

“I know, please don’t be broken, you don’t deserve it, I’m not worth it. You’re right, I brought this on myself, I regret it. Maybe if we’re meant to be we’ll meet again some time.” He sighs.

“I guess this is what you get if you date a rockstar.” I bitterly chuckle.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Harper.”

If this is love, then fuck it, I don’t want it anymore

[lesbianalinex]

what did emeraude do? a lot of people are mad at her for something and i'm confused. (not the lukemaryse thing or the "magnus cheated on alec" thing, it was before that)

I just want to say that I’m white and British and not an expert on this, so if I get this wrong or it seems like I don’t understand something quite right, please correct me.

In January, if you follow her Instagram, she posted this picture on her Instagram of her hair in cornrows while she was on holiday in Thailand. It’s not her picture that’s the issue, it’s her hairstyle. It’s Cultural Appropriation.

A lot of black women get shamed for having their hair in braids, but when non-black people do it, it’s fine, and what was even worse, is that when people called her out on it and asked her for an apology she made it worse. - I just want to add that I’ve never heard people call someone out in such a polite way before, people were taking the time to explain why what she did was offensive. - So yeah, people took time to explain to her why what she did was so wrong and all she did in was block them. 

She then posted this picture captioned “ #tbt mom braiding my hair since 1993 💙” and in the picture is her as a child with braids in her hair, but not box braids. They’re different. The meaning behind them is very different and she doesn’t seem to realise that. She then took to Twitter:

And these… seem kind of ignorant. It’s not the actual braids that are the problem part, it’s the hairstyle. This article seems to explain cultural appropriation pretty well. This quote is from the article and sums it all up pretty well. “So while we should be treated as equals, we’re not. A white woman is free to take on and take off the same hairstyle that a Black woman would be ostracised for.” And while Emeraude isn’t white, she isn’t black. She has lighter skin and with that lighter skin, comes a certain amount of privilege. I’m not saying that she doesn’t face discrimination or oppression as a Latina woman, but it’s different and she doesn’t seem to see that.

Amandla Stenberg, although problematic in their own right, wrote a pretty good post about that here. 

That is one of the reasons people dislike Emeraude. The second… is messy and I don’t fully understand her reasoning. Basically, she whitewashed her own character.

As I’m sure everybody knows at this point, Isabelle’s storyline in season 2 making her a drug addict is highly problematic, due to the stereotypes surrounding Latinx people and drugs.

From day one Emeraude has commented on how amazing it is for Shadowhunters to have a diverse cast, and how privileged she feels to be able to be somebodys representation and to have such a strong role. So, when she was so okay with this storyline, despite the negative stereotypes surrounding it, people were rightfully confused and asked her for her opinion on it. This is what she replied:

Sure, book!Izzy wasn’t Latina, maybe show!Izzy wasn’t originally written for a Latina either. But Emeraude is. There’s nothing that anyone can do to change that, and if Emeraude plays Isabelle. It makes Isabelle Latina too…

It becomes even messier when we remember her interviews and everything she did about how she was so happy to be representing Latinx people and how important it was to not mess it all up! 

So… what’s the truth??

By saying Izzy isn’t Latina is basically whitewashing herself and kind of Maryse ( Nicola Correia Damude) by extension…

Within a month she basically screws over her black fans and her Latinx ones and it’s just… messy.

So yeah, I’ve lost respect for Emeraude admits she was wrong and until she apologises I don’t think that’s going to change. Sure I still reblog stuff with her in, especially if it’s got other cast members in, just like I still reblog stuff with Dom despite his… issues. But I don’t respect her as a person or an actress, I just can’t.

Like I said at the beginning, please correct me if any of this is wrong and I will fix it.

[pameluke]

a year in writing: 2016 review

Total number of completed stories: 22 

Total word count: 60799

Chronological breakdown:

January  Leverage, The Triple A Job, OT3 Anniversary shenanigans, written for Holly Poly

February The Losers/Kate Daniels Series crossover, Technical Difficulties, Cougar and Jensen meet Kate, written for Chocolate Box

March Brooklyn Nine-Nine, First Aid, Venti Chai Latte Extra Sugar, Throw-Down, Rosa & Amy, Three ficlets about their friendship, written for Purimgifts

April Shadowhunters, Take My Hands And Close Your Eyes, Alec/Magnus, First Date, First fic for the new pairing and fandom of my heart. SW: The Force Awakens, A Force To Be Reckoned With, Poe/Finn/Rey, Threesome sex with the Force!, written for Smutswap, my first smut ever :) SW: The Force Awakens, Open Doors, Open Hearts, Poe/Finn/Rey moving in together. Written for Ship Swap.

May Shadowhunters, A Positive Result, Alec/Magnus, Magnus & Alec & Jace, Magnus dealing with parabatai shenanigans

June River Lea - Adele, reeds growing out of my fingertips, water demons and possessions, written for Jukebox Spartacus (1960), Sing, Antoninus, Antoninus/Spartacus, written for myoldfandom

July Shadowhunters, all that is loved does now glitter, Alec/Magnus, Glitter Marking and Sex Magic, written for not_primetime Shadowhunters, Double The Trouble, Alec/Magnus, Izzy/Simon, the dangers of double dating, written for not_primetime

August Shadowhunters, Nothing In The World, Alec & Izzy, Missing scene Shadowhunters, Glitter By The Water Front, Alec/Magnus, Kate Daniels Fusion Meet Cute, written for Malec Week Shadowhunters, When She Talks, I Hear Revolution, Izzy/Lydia, co-written with @thisissirius and @canadiansuperhero , underground radio, rebellion and romance, written for pod_together, also voiced a Seelie OC.

September Shadowhunters, a little too much, could never be enough, Alec/Magnus, jewellery kink and blowjobs, first part of the Magnus’ Dick Is His Demon Mark series, written for iddyiddybangbang

October Aliens/Pacific Rim, Running Out Of Days, Ripley/Hicks, Ripley finds a new Drift Partner, while mourning her first one, written for crossovering Kate Daniels Series, True Nature, Kate/Curran, Monsters and Magic in a Labyrinth, written for trickortreatex

November One of my goals was to post a story every month, but November sucked balls on a personal and global scale, so I failed. Did work on Yuletide and other fics, just didn’t finish anything, alas.

December Shadowhunters, ever the tears you wept, Alec/Magnus, my take on soulmate fic where one half is immortal Shadowhunters, Armchairs and Paperwork, Alec/Magnus, domestic make-outs on furniture King Arthur (2004), Wild Horses, Bors/Dagonet/Vanora, Dagonet Lives! Featuring the Sarmatian Threesome of my heart. Written for Yuletide.

Other Things I Wrote A weird half fic, half headcanon thing about Alec Following His Heart, Dairy Farmer Level.

So many Dear Author letters for exchanges, I’m always embarrassed about my long-windedness.

Still Stuck In The WIP Folder A treat for Yuletide that I’m only half way in, will probably try and finish it either for NYR, or stalk my recip and see if they request it in another fic exchange to treat them there.

The RomCom I started for Unconvential Courtship, in which Alec and Magnus only get together years later at the Clace Wedding, and need to Fake Date For Political Reasons. Currently at 13k, 5 chapters in, at least 10 to go.

The Cupid AU in which Alec is a cupid who shoots Magnus for someone else in 1700, cue 400 years of pining. 2k in, got boggled down by historical research and magic wordlbuilding.

The Chess Date, sequel to the First Date Fic, 1k so far, but got stuck.

About 5k worth of various outlines and plotideas, including the Phoenix!Alec fic, a bunch of fic ideas for the World Inverted AU, the Izzy and Alec are parabatai fic, more Kate Daniels fusion, and the DragonHeart AU which I plan to co-write with siri.

So much to write and finish!

Overall Thoughts: Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted?

This year I published more words than in all my other years of fandom combined! Other milestones include: posted over 100k words total to my AO3, posted my first smut (which also was my first PWP), and participated in over 10 challenges. I also think I wrote more this year than I ever did before, but I’m not entirely sure because I didn’t count words for unfinished things in 2015.

Wrote exactly 0 words original work this year, which I didn’t see coming either. Guess the new fandom took it all out of me.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?

Shadowhunters, the new shiny fandom of my heart. I didn’t expect I’d ever feel about a show like I did about Spartacus, and it’s not completely the same, but fuck I am INVESTED, and I am still super inspired. It’s just a canon with many many hooks for me to grab on to, and I guess I have. Only two more stories to go, and it’s officially the fandom I’ve written most for, never did see that coming.

Did you take any writing risks this year? 

I wouldn’t call it risk taking per se, but I did leave my comfort zone and had a bunch of fanfic first times. I wrote Star Wars (which is super intimidating fandom wise for some reason), I actually wrote for a lot of fandoms I hadn’t written for before. I wrote smut and PWP, and I even wrote a fill for a kinkmeme.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? 

Goal for next year is definitely to let my kink flag fly more, and write the things I’d like to see more of. Try my hand at some f/f smut. 

I’d really like to keep writing steadily, so I’ve signed up for Get Your Words Out, to keep my output steadily.

I also really want to finish my WIPS, especially the RomCom, because First Chaptered Story if I do. 

And I’d like to get back into my Original Work. I actually have a lot of half finished stories and plot outlines lying around, I really want to finish something next year.

On the wishlist is also to participate in NaNoWriMo again next year, but the job might get in the way of that alas.

From my past year of writing, what was...

My favorite story of the year:

Fuck this is hard, because I’m one of those people that writes mostly to still my own hunger, so I tend to really like my own stories (I laugh a lot at my own jokes as well). I guess it would be all that is loved does now glitter, because it gets me right in the id of feelings. It’s the story of myself I’ve reread most. Also, slap fights.

My best story of this year:

I think reeds growing out of my fingertips. I thought if the basic plotline while driving through four european countries at night, and the last image, of the posessed girl diving off the damm was the first thing I came up with. Jukebox is very close to origfic, and I think I really got the creepiness and plot right with this one.

My most popular story of this year: 

By hits, kudos, comments and bookmarks all that is loved does now glitter wins by a landslide. I guess because it’s porn with feelings and features Magnus being his magical self.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: 

Sing, Antoninus for the Kubrick Spartacus. I adapted Latin Poetry for this story, yo. I love all things Spartacus, but the Kubrick movie is very precious to me, and I wish more people still felt that way. Alas, there’s not much of a fandom for this movie, so no one thinks of looking up fic for it.

Most fun story to write: 

Sometimes I really like cracky fic, and I tend to be the only one who finds myself funny, so probably either the Dairy Farmer Thing, or A Positive Result. The funnest experience was totally working together with Siri and Ray for Podtogether though, nothing beats that.

Story with the single sexiest moment: 

Alec coming because Magnus’ toe ring scrapes his calf in a little too much could never be enough. Runner up would probably be Alec kissing Magnus’ toe ring in the same story. Magnus and his jewellery is pretty much the sexiest thing in fandom, imo.

Story with single sweetest moment:

If we’re going for sweetest then I’d pick Izzy distracting Alec with fashion choices in Nothing In This World, because all the Sibling Feelings always. If we’re going for sappiest then I’d pick the Beauty & the Beast Library scene from Take My Hand And Close Your Eyes because Magnus being magical with his magical mood lightning and Alec being in awe.

Hardest story to write:

Definitely A Force To Be Reckoned with, because Star Wars is intimidating as fuck to write for if you never have written in that canon before. Plus there was the whole first time smut writing aspect, and the sex with the Force thing, so I struggled a lot. Still super pleased with the end result though.

Easiest story to write: Glitter By The Waterfront practically wrote itself. I just really love writing in the Kate Daniels setting (I wish it took off like Hogwarts AUs, honestly, it's just so fun, and the magic is so awesome), and Alec and Magnus fit so well there. I pretty much wrote it in a day which almost never happens. Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:  Before writing Running Out Of Days, I never really took Ripley's grief for her daughter into account. Or well, I knew she was mourning, but it wasn't part of the emotional impact for me. Writing Amanda as both Ripley's daughter and the Drift Partner she lost really hammered that home for me though, and I now watch Aliens differently.

Favorite Title: all that is loved does now glitter, with miles ahead. I'm just proud of thinking of it, it fits Magnus and the story so well, and it's the only title I ever got a compliment about (and by someone not even into the fandom! although I lured them in by now). I'm just ridiculously fond of it. Favourite Opening Line:  The song of her sisters is sweet and mellow, a brook flowing over pebbles, made round and soft by water and time. (x) Favourite Closing Line: “I don’t need to find them,” he said and kissed Magnus again. “I’m already the happiest I can be. I picked you.” (x)

Favorite Line from Anywhere: Here in this bathroom, while he looks like a disco ball threw up on him, with Magnus standing next to him, looking soft and thoroughly bedded and touching him so tenderly, he truly, finally feels like he belongs. (x)

Fic-writing goals for 2016: 

Write a minimum of 75k Post a story every month Finish at least one WIP of over 10k  

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Enough, Always: Izzy

CW: Newly adult child of whumper and whumpee, whumper in prison, references to romantic/intimate whump, referenced child emotional abuse, verbal abuse, brief gendered appearance insults with single line of brief homophobia at end, plus final crowning moment of badass for Izzy.

Izzy’s mother Savannah Marcoset has been locked in prison on a life sentence without parole for eleven years for abducting Izzy’s father Jax, keeping him captive, and forcing him into a horrifying facsimile of domestic bliss - and Izzy last saw her in person fourteen years ago, when her father escaped with her and her infant brother in one desperate final bid for freedom.

Newly eighteen and feeling the need for some kind of closure in one of the foundational aspects of her identity, Izzy decides to visit America - and pay a visit to her incarcerated mother. 

During the visit, she learns that Savvie Marcoset, in the end, couldn’t change - but Izzy fucking Gallagher did.

For the first time with her mother, Izzy finds her voice.

Jax Gallagher (referenced) belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with permission.

---

“Is this how you dress now?” Her mother’s voice is sharp-edged and still familiar, even fourteen years since Izzy last spoke to her face to face. It’s funny, how she barely remembered it, but as soon as she hears it, her heart starts to race, and it’s the feeling of her heart beating wings inside her chest. It’s the way other people might remember the sense of a warm hand to forehead, checking for illness, or laughter, or praise.

It’s a voice like a fever, a rush of chill down her spine and through her arms and thighs. Is it familiar from real memories, or because Izzy has heard it in interviews and documentaries and recordings, during her nights spent researching the woman who makes up half her genetics and absolutely none of her life?

She almost gets up and leaves right then. 

Almost. 

But Izzy Gallagher fought for this trip, had declared herself able and willing to do this, had more importantly convinced her father she needed to do this. She can’t just give up because it didn’t start well.

Even if he wouldn’t judge her, or at least he wouldn’t show it, Izzy Gallagher sets her shoulders and declares herself her father’s stubborn strong daughter, and not her mother’s weak and frightened one.

She steels herself against the instinctive uncertainty, the rush of anxious shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t have tried. Instead, she gives her mother a faint smile as a plastic-and-metal chair is pulled out and she sits down across the small round table, just enough space there isn’t any danger of accidental - or, hopefully, purposeful - touch. 

The walls are beige, the top of the table is a wood so pale it might as well be. There are bars on the window that lets in a pale and faded winter sun. There are some others, nearby, people younger or older than she sitting at other round tables, seeing mothers, wives, aunts, sisters. Izzy wonders if all of them are scared, or if none of them are. If it’s only her who has to remember how to breathe, in her mother’s presence.

She can do this. She told him she could do this.

“Um.” Izzy looks down at herself - just a band shirt and faded jeans worn with holes, her still-knobby knees showing through, the boots a birthday gift from Nana she’d thought would help her crunch through the grayish snow in the parking lot, a light hooded sweater over it all - and then up again. Her mother’s eyes are still wide-set in her face, which is less rounded as time has passed. 

Those eyes are still overbright, and very blue.

It’s been so long since Savannah Marcoset saw her eldest child, and Izzy can’t ever remember having been the focus of her mother’s all-consuming interest before. It feels like standing in the eye of a storm, where everything is still but the air carries weight, electricity, and threat. 

“Mostly,” Izzy says, finally. “Mostly this is how I dress. I mean, I couldn’t wear gray, could I? They wouldn’t let me leave.” She tries to sound lighthearted, then winces. Bad joke.

Her mother, in what looks almost like flat gray scrubs, with a high-cut V-neck and a waist without a drawstring, smiles back, apparently unoffended. There’s a shift - subtle as a cat moving onto its back paws in grass, eyes focused on a nearby bird. Izzy has always been sensitive to changes in the tension of a room, and her own eyes - hazel leaning towards brown, her father’s eyes through and through - move to a nearby guard, reassuring herself with his presence.

Savannah Marcoset is firmly locked in prison for life, with handcuffs and ankle-cuffs that ensure she can’t make herself a threat here, and still the soft nearly-buzzed hair at the back of Izzy’s neck stands up, and she feels like she is being inspected, a bit of bacteria in some scientist’s microscope.

“I had hoped for a little more color, is all,” Her mother says, tilting her head to the side, giving an impish little smile. “As you can imagine, there isn’t exactly a surplus of art here. You look lovely, Isabella.”

Izzy swallows against a lump in her throat. Absurdly, she feels outnumbered, one-to-one. “I, yeah. Thanks.” She tries for a responding smile, maybe half-successful at it. “You have-... you have art classes here, I read.”

“You read up on me.” Her mother’s expression changes a little, opens up. She sits up a little straighter, then, and there’s a flash of still-white teeth in her smile, now. “You know about me. I would have thought you wouldn’t be allowed to know a thing.”

“I’m, um.” Izzy’s hands fold in her lap, and she rubs over the shredded white threads along a hole that’s worn over one thigh, the softness of a patch of fabric she’d sewn herself beneath. “I’m eighteen now, so. I get to pick what I know, more or less.”

“You’re eighteen?” Her mother’s surprise is genuine, and she glances sideways at the clock as though it will become a calendar, back to Izzy. “When did that happen?”

Why that question hurts, she doesn’t know - but it does. It’s not like Savannah Marcoset has anything to do here but remember, and yet-... she didn’t.

“About three weeks ago, actually,” Izzy says, and hears herself sounding embarrassed, like she should have not grown up at all, if that wasn’t what Savvie wanted, or expected. Like the turn of the Earth is her fault, something she did on purpose just to spite Savvie by stealing time. 

“Oh. Well.” Savvie folds her hands with a soft rattle as the cuffs knock into the shiny, sealed tabletop. She leans over, and Izzy can see the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, now, the hint of them around her lips. Her jawline seems stronger, more carved, she is a statue version of a parent that Izzy remembers as a kind of terrifying whirlwind. Her hair is less overwhelming, the deep brown graying at the temples, pulled back simply against the nape of her neck. It isn’t so long, as it once was. Savvie pauses, waits for Izzy to look her in the eyes. “Happy birthday, Isabella.”

The name is wrong - it’s always been wrong - but Izzy smiles, anyway. “Thanks. Eighteen is a bit weird, it doesn’t feel any different than seventeen did, but-”

“My no-contact orders were signed here, in the US,” Savvie says, interrupting her, thinking this through. “So you, what, had to be eighteen to come see me? Have you wanted to before?” She leans forward, and Izzy leans back, feeling her back press into the chair behind her, letting her right hand drop to rub at the seam of her jeans on the outside of one thigh. Her heart beats harder. “Did he keep you from seeing me?”

He.

“No,” Izzy says, and her voice is thin at first, but she clears her throat and the second try is stronger. “No, he didn’t. He would have, if I’d have wanted to, before. I just didn’t ‘til now. We’re, um-... we’re doing an American holiday, more or less.”

Shit. She shouldn’t have said-

“‘We’?” Savvie’s expression brightens, with real interest now. Her eyes pin Izzy like a butterfly to a display case, jam tiny needles through her wings, hold her fast. “He’s here? Jax is here?”

“He’s not,” Izzy lies, smooth as silk, without hesitating. She’d planned for this question, prepared for this. She’d sat up til two in the morning prepping for the ways her mother might try to talk about her father, and more importantly, the ways that Izzy wouldn’t give her what she wanted. She’d just been hoping to hide it better for longer. “He didn’t come with m-me here. It’s just me, Mom, and some friends.”

Savvie clicks her tongue against her teeth. “He didn’t think I was too dangerous, for you to speak to?”

She can’t help her slight, sardonic laugh at that. “You’re in prison, Mom.” It feels weird, to hear herself say Mom out loud, as though that was ever what Savvie had been. She was four the last time she said Mommy to Savvie’s face, and even then it had been an apology Izzy can barely remember now, her own sense of a small voice saying, I’m sorry, Mommy, I won’t do it anymore, but she can’t remember what she’d done to get in trouble.

Breathe, probably.

“You’re in prison,” She repeats, and her heartbeat settles a little, reassuring herself with the words spoken out loud, made real. “You’re the least dangerous you’ve ever been, to us.”

Savvie sits back, less pleased now. “I was never dangerous. Did he tell you I was dangerous to you? I never was. That was a lie he made up, so they would help take you and your brother away from me. I only ever wanted us to be a family, Isabella.”

“Mom.” Izzy’s voice wavers, and Savvie might smile a little at the sound, but if she does, it’s because she sees the wrong reason for the waver, or… maybe she enjoys the annoyance, the anger, as much as she would fear. “We both know that’s not true, none of that is true.”

“I wanted a family,” Savvie says, in a low voice, not quite a whisper. Regretful, mournful. She trails a fingernail along the top of the table, and Izzy tenses at the scrape of it. Barely audible but it grates on her nerves nonetheless. She swallows, presses her lips together, tries not to watch it move.

Fails.

Savvie’s nails aren’t painted - in Izzy’s blurry remaining memories of her, Savvie’s nails are always painted colors - but they shine, perfectly filed edges moving, catching a hint of light. 

“Your dad,” Savvie says, in that same mournful, grieving tone, “didn’t want you at all. Did you know that? He never did. He hated the very idea of you, and your brother. He thinks I don't know that he cried over the concept of you. No… you were never wanted by anyone but me, until he realized he could steal you to hurt me. He could always be cold that way. He took you and hoped I would-”

“Stop.” Izzy struggles to say it. Even now, with therapy a constant foundation of her life and a stronger one than her mother’s terrifying rage, it’s hard to make herself say the word. She has to fight to make it audible, but it’s still clearly surprising - Savvie goes silent, watching her with those unnerving wide blue eyes. “Please-... stop. I, I know how he felt. You can’t-... you can’t rewrite history, Mom. I know… I know how it was, or I know enough.”

“It’s the truth, Isabella.” Her mother’s expression is so earnestly sincere. Izzy licks at her lips, suddenly dry and chapped, and thinks that if there were a lie-detector test, her mother would pass it, stone-cold. No way to tell she didn’t believe her own words. She might, actually, believe the story as it leaves her mouth, believe it so utterly she can lie without even knowing she’s doing it. “That’s all I ever wanted to do, is have the chance to tell you the truth. But he got that no-contact order and made sure you would only ever know how he saw it.” Savvie smiles with wistful regret, every inch the mother mourning her lost children. 

Izzy knows better. 

Jamie, her little brother, fifteen and with no memory of his mother at all, might fall for this. She's a stranger to him. But Izzy remembers the hours locked alone in the dark, and the sound of her father screaming in pain. 

She swallows trying not to think too much about that memory. “It’s not about-... there aren’t two sides, Mom. This isn't like any other divorce. You held him prisoner.” She’s falling into a trap, and she can feel it but she can’t stop herself. Her mother hasn’t tried to so much as reach for her - it wouldn’t be allowed, the guard would step forward if she did - but Izzy still feels like she has been pinned, claws sliding into her shoulders and a heavy weight holding her to her seat. A bird that didn’t see the threat in time to take flight. "You-... held us all-"

“Well, now he’s made sure I’m a prisoner, hasn’t he? Must be nice, to pin all your problems on the Big Bad Witch in prison who can no longer defend herself. But, of course, everything is always my fault.” Savvie shrugs as she cuts Izzy off, almost idly. 

"Mom, he has-..." Izzy feels unmoored. Drifting, like this can't be real, this conversation. This can't be real. "You abducted him, you-"

"Everyone has problems, sweetie." Savvie's head tilts a little more, eyes moving over Izzy’s face with an awful, palpable weight. “Don't try to make it a competition." Something gentles, then. The hard planes of her mother's face soften. "You know, you look like him.”

Izzy warms, a little, at that. She shouldn't and she knows it, but still, she does. She smiles, slightly lopsided, and raises one hand to touch the silver rings in the shell of her left ear, two of them right next to each other, one for Jax and one for her brother Jamie. “I hope so,” she admits. “I’ve always wanted to.”

The moment of gentleness in her mother’s expression slips away, replaced by a brittle frigid chill that washes over Izzy, a wave that breaks against her. 

Oh, no. I cared more about him than her. Even now, fourteen years on, she still shivers in an old fear.

“He is handsome,” Savvie says, tapping her fingernails again, scraping them along the table. The sound is starting to grate on Izzy’s nerves. “He always was, even in the earliest days. He never knew it, I don’t think. I tried to tell him.”

He didn’t want to hear it from you.

“He hears it enough now,” Izzy says, and her heart goes cold with dread as she realizes she’s nearly given away something much, much worse to say than accidentally admitting her dad came on the trip with her.

Damn it, Izzy, don't let her know about Kieran. 

Savvie doesn’t seem to notice the clue. She just keeps tapping. “Do you play music, Isabella? I wondered if either of you would have talent, in the end.”

It’s an abrupt change of subject, and Izzy doesn’t see it for the trap it is. 

“I play-... um. I can play some things,” Izzy hedges, shifting uncomfortably from the simple truth that she can play almost anything, if she hears it a couple of times, remembers note-for-note the songs on the radio or the forbidden ones she still hides in playlists buried in playlists, the soft strains of violin that draw her but she would never admit to. “I’m-... in a band, actually.”

Savvie’s eyes are back on hers, then, that unnerving total focus. “What do you play in that band? Is it a real band, or just noise?”

Izzy rubs at the back of her neck, flushing in embarrassment. “Um. I guess it’s about fifty-fifty noise and real. I play bass guitar, actually.” 

She’d read somewhere that bass guitar was easy, and figured if she played that, no one would realize the music was inherent in her, demanding expression. She could say she wanted to be in the band because of her father, who had been in one once upon a time, too. She wouldn’t have to admit that the music didn’t come from Jax, but from Savvie’s blood in her veins. She could pretend, with the bass guitar, to be worse at it than she really was without ruining the songs. 

Her mother snorts, derisive. “Anyone can play that,” She says, waving one hand in dismissal - but the other has to come with it, and it’s a reminder that, no matter how Izzy feels in the moment, there is no real danger here. “That hardly counts. Can you play a real instrument?”

“It is a real instrument.”

“Hardly.” Savvie looks disappointed, and it’s weird - she hasn’t seen her face-to-face since she was four, and she hasn’t said a word to her in that time, and still… the disappointment hurts, a little. “You weren’t allowed to do music, were you? He forbade you, because of me.”

“No, he absolutely didn’t.” It’s Izzy’s turn to lean forward, her hands closing into fists in her lap now, an old habit from childhood she’s mostly broken but it comes back, now, as her irritation rises in eternal defense of Jax. “He’s always supported whatever I wanted to do-”

“Because he doesn’t care enough to make sure you’re doing something worthwhile.” Her mother’s sigh cracks open a dark door inside her, it’s familiar even to her fading memories. It’s a sigh she knows from birth. Before Izzy can respond again, she changes the subject, deft as a dancer. “What are you doing for school, then? Are you going to go to college?”

Izzy blinks, thrown off track. “Um. Yes, I do plan on it, I’ll be going to university next autumn-”

“You’ve got the accent, too. Guess they’ve painted over everything they didn’t like, didn’t they?”

“Wh-what?” Her heart stops as her mother’s voice is sharp again. Her fists tighten, pressing down into her thighs until they nearly ache. “What’d you-”

“You look like him, dress like the dime-store version of him - honestly, Isabella, look at you, you look… grimy. You even talk like him. What is this, trying to look like the daughter he might have actually wanted? Is that it?”

Izzy swallows, sitting back again, thumping into the back of the chair. Someone nearby is crying, soft, muffled sobs. Someone else is whispering, in vicious intensity, in fury. The guards are impassive. There’s no sign they even hear Savvie speaking at all. “It’s just who I am-”

“No, it isn’t. I saw your name, Isabella Gallagher. You were born a Marcoset, but he was happy when he changed it, wasn’t he?” Savvie’s eyes won’t let her look away. She feels completely captured, the center of Savannah Marcoset’s world, the most terrifying place on Earth, somewhere Izzy has never once been. “I asked you a question, Isabella. He was happy to have you change your name, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.” She’s not sure why she answers. The anxious shivering inside of her is stronger than it should be. Her voice is a whisper, a rush of air with only a hint of sound. “But it was-... my idea-”

“I’m sure he let you think that. I feel sorry for you, you know. I really do. He must care for James so much more than he does you, don’t you think? My beautiful son wasn’t old enough to even speak to me, but you… you’re a reminder, aren’t you? Oh…" Savvie's lips purse, in a sort of smug smile. "Oh, you are. God, what torture it must be for him to be around you."

She’s supposed to be stupid. Izzy has watched all the documentaries that mention the case, she read an awful unauthorized true crime book she found in a thrift shop once that just had a little teensy chapter on Savvie buried between other femme fatales. She’s done her research, to understand the woman she was going to meet as best she could.

Savannah Marcoset is supposed to be… well, stupid.

Izzy wasn’t prepared for cunning not being the same thing as smart. And she didn’t think through what eleven years in prison, with almost nothing to do but think, and no chance of leaving ever for the rest of her life, might do to hone her mother’s ability to wound. That Savvie might have taken a blunt instrument and whittled it into a blade.

“I-I’m not-”

“You are.” Savvie hums, and the tapping of her nails is going to drive Izzy up the fucking wall. “Even just being alive, you are. And your hair, well…” Savvie’s eyes go up to Izzy’s hair, the same deep chocolate brown as Savannah’s own, a shock of curly brown that falls over her forehead and against one side, nearly shaved on the other side and along the back. “You can cut it, but it’s still my hair. You walk around a living reminder of what he stole from me, just to hurt me, what he didn’t even want. You were never wanted, Isabella. That’s why your birth is part of my crimes, don’t you think? You and James both. You’re a crime I committed against him, right?”

“A crime-” Her voice cracks, but if she sounds uncertain, it’s only her nerves, her inability to stand up for herself sometimes. It’s not fear. She is not afraid of this woman, and she doesn’t believe her. 

Okay, a little afraid.

But she doesn’t believe her, she doesn’t. She knows better, because she knows how hard her father has worked to build the life around her, the one she’s living now. She knows how many times he has held her after nightmares - hers and his both. She knows he could have left her and James behind, but he didn’t.

Every chance he had to set them down, he chose to hold them instead. 

Most of all, she knows the way her father has carefully, day by day and year by year, taught her that love is not the same thing as danger.

Her shoulders square, and her back straightens. “You keep saying that, b-but… there’s a difference between not wanting someone who will be hurt to, to be there to be hurt, and caring about someone. There’s-... you can’t see the difference, is all, but I can. I know-” She swallows. “I know how it looks like when he loves someone, and you don’t.”

“Hm.” Savvie’s fascination flags, a little, at that. Her stare is unnerving, unblinking, but Izzy feels the anger coming off of her, hidden and still plain as day. “Changing the subject, I see. So much of you is just a walking reminder. You’re just a tragedy on two legs, aren’t you, Isabella?”

Part of Izzy thinks wryly, how long ago did you think of that and how long have you been waiting for someone to say it to? but the rest of her can’t find the breath to say it out loud. “You can’t make my life worse than it is, Mom. Not anymore. I didn’t come h-here for this, I came here for-”

I came here to see if you could see me, even now, or only a reflection of what you can’t have. I guess I have my answer. 

Savvie hasn’t stopped talking. “What of you is even yourself, Isabella? Are you just… trying not to be me? Do you not want him to think of me?” Her smile widens. Flash of teeth. For a second, just one brief second, Izzy sees fangs. “Oh, sweetie. You can’t ever change that, no matter what you do. I was important. I ruined his life, remember? There was a whole court case about it. Two, really. It’s why I’m here. Because I’m the Big Bad Wolf, or so I’m told.” She snorts. “You should have worn red, Isabella. Or something.”

“Or something,” Izzy whispers, looking down at her hands, at her knuckles gone white, her fists. The round clock is ticking on the wall, and it’s only an hour. She told herself she could last for an hour, when she walked in here. She told herself she could make it, and she would.

“Isabella-”

“You didn’t, by the way.” Where the words come from, she’s not sure. But they come out sure, and strong. "You didn't ruin his life. It’s better, it’s good.”

“Oh? Is it?” Savvie feigns disinterest, but she’s so bright and sparkling, pulling Izzy in. “What about it is so good, Isabella? What does my husband do, in his whole new life without me? What can he do? Show me how I’m wrong.” Savvie’s presence is heavy, it takes up too much space, feels like Izzy is pressed against the wall, suffocating. How did they live like this, surrounded by her on all sides, all the time? How had Jax ever survived so long alone with her? 

Her voice trembles more than she wants it to when she speaks. “What?”

“You say I’m wrong - about him, about you.” Savvie is a shark, and Izzy is blood in the water. She seems bigger, suddenly, or maybe Izzy is smaller. Younger. Has too much hair for her age and a frilly dress she hates and she has to be good, and so quiet, and do exactly what she is told or her father will be hurt, and it will be her fault, because it’s always, always her fault-

Savvie’s voice is not quite a whisper. “Tell me, Isabella, all these things I am so wrong about. Even if you believe his side of the story, he’s all I thought about, the only thing that mattered, right? So I know him better than anyone else, don’t I? And you’re mine. I know everything about you, without even trying."

“You don’t-... know anything about me.” Izzy knows she’s getting quieter, and knows as she retreats, her mother presses forward, thrilled to play a game she hasn’t played in… in eleven years, more or less. “And you don’t know a single thing about him.”

“I know every fucking scar on his body.” Izzy’s stomach flips, but Savvie is leaning forward again, and the blue of her eyes is overtaking everything else around them. Plain beige walls and plain table and plain bars over plain windows can’t compete. The gray of everyone’s prison outfits, her own black-and-slightly-less-black, none of it is a good enough distraction, enough to tear her away. “That’s what I know. You’re sweet, Isabella, and it’s lovely of you to try and be the dutiful little daughter all over again. But I know things you don’t, I always have. I know I still do. He hasn’t told you half of it, and he won’t.” 

It’s a strike, a feint and then a jab, and if this were a real fight Izzy would be ready for it, but words are so much harder to defend against. “I was a little kid, I didn’t need to know it, I didn’t want to. I don’t need to know-”

“You had colic, for a month or so.” Savvie cuts her off, raising her voice a little. One of the guards behind her shifts, might look at them from behind the dark of his glasses at the volume. “When you were little. Cried like a banshee, day and night, no reason. I could hear you in my practice room. Still think you know everything?”

“This isn’t-... I don’t know why you’re telling me this."

“I had my responsibilities, sweetie. I mean, I was a new mother, but I was still a person. I didn’t need to change all that much, really. Jax spent half his time trying to keep me away from you, your own mother, and the other half trying to shut you up.”

“You could be-... he said you were up-upset, sometimes, um, you c-could be-”

“Violent? Never. I was tired, maybe - we both were. Jax has never slept well."

Because of you.

"Oh, here we go. One of my favorites of his little insults… does he say I was unstable? I’m sure I’ve heard it all. Probably in court, no less, he very much enjoyed getting on stage to put on his little show. Taking the jury around and around in circles acting like I never did anything kind for you.” Her eyes move back to Izzy’s hair, shaking her head slightly, one lip curling upward in a sneer. “I certainly would have been kind enough not to let you make yourself look like that.”

“Mom-”

“Shut up, Isabella. I am talking to you, and I am not done yet.”

Izzy’s mouth snaps shut, teeth clicking together, her nails digging into her palms. Her eyes flicker to the guard, trying to catch him, but no, she’s going to last the whole hour, she promised herself she could do it, she promised. 

Besides, it's… sort of harder than she thought, to look away when Savvie is talking.

“We ended up getting my, well, Isaac’s servant Hannah to help with you. Because of the colic. He asked for her, really. I was prepared to bring in someone else, but Jax had his demands, and when he really wanted something, well.” She shrugs, calmly, casually. She is talking about a reality that never existed, moving all the pieces around until the past suits her and not the court documents. Until her story is the one circling Izzy’s head, and not the story she knows has to actually be true. “How could I refuse?”

“He asked-... but when he wanted-”

“What did I just say?”

“Mom, I need to-”

“Let. Me. Finish.”

“N-No, I don’t want to hear this-”

“You know what he started to do? Once we had Hannah around, a few days a week? When the steward began to come as well? Do you know what the number one change your father made to his life was, once that happened?”

“Mom, please. Please don’t do this.” Her voice is nearly gone, and Savvie leaps.

“He started getting the hell away from you.” Savvie throws her head back and laughs, loud enough to make people look over at them. Izzy wonders, face burning in embarrassment, what they see. Do they know who Savvie is? Is she really famous, here, like Izzy thinks she is? Does everyone know they’re watching Savannah Marcoset push her daughter under the water and watch her struggle to breathe?

But… the words hurt. He got the hell away from you. “He did-... he did what?”

“Fucking escaped you. He thinks I didn’t notice. Everyone always thinks I don’t notice, didn’t know things. Your father - my Jax - thinks I’m a fucking idiot, I get that now. But I saw that, him handing you off to Hannah or the steward and get as far away from you as he could without-” Savvie lifts her hands to tap at the side of her neck with a slight, almost dreamy smile. “Everyone says I’m the bad mom, the bad parent, but I’m not the only one who shoved you aside every chance I got.” Savvie hums, almost idly. She’s playing, Izzy thinks dimly. Cat with a ball of yarn. Somehow the words hurt a little less when the realization comes. “That’s the thing, though, isn’t it, Bella-”

“Izzy,” She whispers, but her mother doesn’t hear her, or doesn’t care.

“You know you are, fundamentally, his fucking nightmare. Your father sat up there before judge and jury and told everyone that I only had you so I could control him just a little bit more. Did you see that, in the documentaries you watched? Did you hear about it? Did he tell you that you only existed to be a weapon, that you're just a pretty little tool in my toolbox?"

She doesn’t want to answer any of those questions, and keeps her eyes down, focuses on the knuckles of her hands. How they sit over her lap so nicely, if you ignore that they are fists. Her face still burns bright red, and her eyes are hot with tears she blinks rapidly away before her mother can see them fall.

“He’ll say I didn’t love you.” Savvie’s expression is chilled, disdainful. “But your father had whole days he could barely stand to touch you. He had days he couldn’t even look at you. You ran around after him begging for, what, for someone to pat you on the head and say you were good just as you are? No wonder he couldn’t give you that.”

“He did give me that, over and over-... how you’re saying it isn’t how it happened, you’re not remembering what actually happened, Mom-”

“I think, deep down, you know it’s because no matter what you do with your hair, or your clothes, he is always going to look at you and see me. That’s the fear, isn’t it? That you're me, or you will be. That’s why you’re here, why you flew all the way across the fucking Atlantic to pay Mommy a visit. You wanted to see how much of you is me. How much of me is in you. How much of a fuck he can even give, in the end, for my daughter." She laughs again, and Izzy flinches. "He must hate you, deep down, and part of you knows it. Am I right?”

Izzy can’t answer at first, and her mother clicks her tongue, falsely sympathetic.

“Oh, sweetie. It’s okay. I can’t do a fucking thing to you, or him, or anyone now. But I’m glad you came to see me. I'm glad to see that you're just the same, easy to break as ever. You'll end up with exactly the love you deserve, Bella. Won't you?"

Izzy's eyes are blurred, struggling to focus. What rises in her isn’t fear, or doubt, or even sadness. It’s anger, the same simmering slow burn that that comes whenever someone tries to push her and her father down, when they have to force their way back up. "N-no-"

"Yes. You'll get what you were born for, one way or another. Don't worry, sweetie. You're not like me at all. You're just… a mirror, and the reflection isn't even a good one." Savvie laughs, cold and cruel, delighting in the pain on her daughter's face. "Here I was worried you’d be angry, but I don’t think you can be. Is that too much like me, too?”

“No, I’m… I get a-angry sometimes, I can… it’s not like that-”

“Not like what? Speak up, Bella. Stop mumbling, you were always a mumbler. Most children shout, you know.”

“Most children don’t get locked in closets if they do.” Izzy is still whispering at the start, but the words come more strongly as she works her way through them, eyelashes heavy with tears she tries to pretend don’t exist. “Most-... most kids can throw a fit without their dad getting hurt, and most kids get to leave the h-house sometimes, and if I-... if he couldn’t-... it was because of you, not because of m-me.” 

“Tell yourself that.”

“I do. I do tell myself that. I only have to tell myself that because of you, and you-... you just wanted to be his whole life and the only thing in it and you’re n-not, and this isn’t even about hurting me, is it? All of this-... telling me about, about him-...”

She can remember it, can’t she? Faint traces remain, of asking for Jax and being told by her Aunt Hannah that he needed some time, of asking and having her Papa Stewart give her a hug instead, of asking and asking and then learning not to ask…

“You aren’t telling me this to hurt me. You’re telling me this to hurt him.” Izzy raises her eyes, aware of the bright red blotches on her cheeks, aware of the tear tracks, aware of her hands in fists and the zinging anger in her that simmers underneath her fear. “You want me to take this out into the-... into the world, back to Dad, and tell him what you said because it’ll hurt him to hear that you said it, and you’ve been in prison for eleven years and missed most of my life and nearly all of my little brother’s - who you haven’t asked me a single fucking question about, by the w-way - and all you can think about, even now, is the… the one who got away from you.”

The balance shifts, some of the glittering brightness fades from Savvie’s eyes, the fascinated sadism seeps out of her expression. “Isabella-”

“Izzy. I’m called Izzy. And you know that, because you’ve known it ever since the trial. And maybe I was-... was hard, for him, when I was a baby and I can’t fix that or make it any better, it’s all already happened and I’ve had to learn not to feel guilty about it since I was four years old, but of the two of you, only one has ever bothered to give any solitary fucks about who I am! I came here to see if you could-... if you could change, or rethink, or even just, just feel something about me, and all you can feel is the parts of me that are him!”

“Isabella-”

“You shut up! You do it, now, and you listen to what I have to say! I was sc-scared, all the time, because of you, not him. He was the one who came to let me out, and he was the one who held me when I was scared, and even if he didn’t want to be near me, he still tried! You don’t-... you don’t get to change the story and make it not what it was, Mom, I know what it was.”

“You know what he told you it was.”

“No. I know what it actually really was. There is no other alternative world where you’re the good guy, or better than he was! Maybe I was a hard baby to l-love, because of whose baby I am, and I-I carry that forever… that I'm not the kid he would've wanted to have... but he tried, and if he didn’t love me at first, at least he tried until he learned how! But… but I know he did. I know he loved me, and Jamie, so much that he did the scariest thing he could imagine by running with us and having to hope we could make it to Grandpa before you could catch us again. I think you don’t know him at all, and you’re going to die in prison still not knowing, and that’s why you’re doing this now. It is killing you that you could lock us up and put that thing on his neck and keep us trapped and you still don’t know any of us at all.”

“I made every single scar-”

“Scars aren’t who someone is! They’re just marks of you being shitty to him! They don’t say who he is now, or how his mind works, or how fucking brilliant he is at being a dad! You know some marks on his skin, but I know who he is when he’s safe, and strong, and happy, and you will never know that man. You won’t ever know what he looks like really in love, and I do, and it is absolutely nothing like he looked around you!"

Her eyes flare. “Bella, what are you talking about, in love? With who? Who would-”

“I came here to see if-... if any part of me really is you, and it’s not, because all the parts of me that matter are from him and Grandpa and Papa Stewart and Nana and my aunties and none of the important bits are yours at all! No one loves you, because you can’t love anyone, but I can, and he can, and Jamie can. You are never ever going to see him again… and I’m going to walk out that door and give him a fucking hug."

She shoves her chair back, making a metallic screech along the floor that makes her mother wince, adrenaline pumping through her veins. It’s a kind of fight, this, she’d been pinned to the mat and fought her way back to standing in the end. 

“I am proud of him, for all he’s done to make an even better life for Jamie and me, and I am proud of him for finding Kieran, after you - and Kie’s a better bonus dad by a million years than you ever were a mom - and… and he’s proud of me. He’s proud of the person I am and not just the person he thought I was supposed to be. That’s more important than, than anything, is that he and I-... we can be proud of each other, and you can’t be proud of anything but yourself.”

Savvie looks startled, now, struggling to regain the surety she’d felt before. She can’t stand or the guard will come, and so she stays seated, and looks up at Izzy, no taller than her father but wiry still. “I think we’re done here,” Savvie says coldly. “You’re clearly too swept up in your father to be worth talking to.”

“Maybe,” Izzy shrugs, shoves her hands in her hoodie pockets, finds the comfortable weight of her phone, switched off for during the visit like the guards had asked. Wonders if her dad, sitting in the rental in the parking lot, has started pacing yet. If he’s watching the clock, waiting for her text to come through, bouncing his foot like he does sometimes. If he’s pretending to read or texting Kieran or if he’s just staring at the squat building that stretches wide on either side, waiting for her to come out. “Did I disappoint you, then? How I am, just me?”

“Oh, sweetie.” Savvie shakes her head, ruefully. Her expression shifts into mournfulness, just a few seconds too late for it to be convincing. “I had high hopes for you. But he ruined you, in the end. Absolutely ruined you.”

“That’s… that’s probably good. I don’t think I’ll come back, Mom. But I might-... I might write a letter.” Why she throws the offer out, she doesn’t know, only… only some part of her will always, always want to keep hoping that this will change.

Savvie’s eyebrows raise. “I might answer it. Can you fix your hair, if you ever come again? And wear something… nicer than this?”

Izzy blinks, rolling her eyes back to look up at her hairline, down to look at her shirt and jeans, and then back to her mother. “Why? Because it’s shorter than you want it to be? Because you don’t like my clothes?”

“Because you look like a lesbian, Isabella.”

Izzy blinks, too thrown to find the words at first, and then she shrugs, rubbing her thumb along the side of her phone in her pocket, her palms aching where her nails had dug in so deeply, over very old scars. She can’t quite help her smile. “Oh. Well, fuck, Mom, my girlfriend will be shocked when she hears you feel that way.”

“Your what?”

Izzy turns and walks away, past the other tables with crying or hurting people, or people who look like they want very badly to hug and can’t, and she doesn’t look back.

The door clangs open and slams shut behind her, the hallway stretching out ahead, and she walks down two sets of stairs and around a corner before she sees the big heavy doors that lead out into the world, the huge parking lot warmed by sunlight with no trees to break the glare of it. She gives the guards manning the checkpoint a little wave of one hand, pushing the door open, and moves into the glaring, brilliant light, turning to face the corner where her father has been waiting by the rental.

He’s definitely been pacing.

She smiles and heads towards him, giving him a big wave. He’s moving towards her before her hand is even fully in the air.

If her mother’s words are designed to shatter, her father’s love - starting with his desperate attempts to protect her, his whispered be brave for me, Izzy as they boarded a train, written across every single day of her life - is a foundation too strong to be broken.

Her mother, Izzy thinks, can’t understand love like that.

But Izzy does.

And it's more than enough.

Always.

---

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @wildfaewhump @whump-tr0pes @moose-teeth @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @vickytokio @eatyourdamnpears

[shemakesmusic-uk]

TRACK BY TRACK BREAKDOWN: Remedy LP by Hannah Grace.

Hannah Grace has released her highly anticipated debut album Remedy. Remedy is a collection of soul-stirring, poignant and uplifting tracks and is a culmination of Hannah’s enviable career to date.

It features the previously released singles ‘How True Is Your Love’, ‘With You’, ‘Blue’ and ‘Praise You’ alongside a wealth of heartfelt material that showcases her stunning vocal capabilities and artistry.

The album was produced by MyRiot (London Grammar, Birdy), Paul O’Duffy (Amy Winehouse), and Ian Barter (Paloma Faith, Izzy Bizu), alongside Hannah’s frequent collaborator and close friend Martin Luke Brown and Luke Potashnick, who produced Hannah’s first EP.

She has also released a beautiful live video for the new song ‘Healing Hands’. It is taken from the record and further showcases her jaw-dropping vocal abilities with stunning intimacy. Watch below. We also asked Hannah to do a track-by-track breakdown of Remedy.

Healing Hands

This is one of the first songs I wrote for the album. When I wrote it I was having some New Year January blues and I felt quite lost. It was hard to imagine the album unfold and I was determined to make something really good. The song is kind of about reassuring myself that I was ‘onto something good’ and that doing music was right for me. It was also about recognising the support and love I got from so many people who believed in me, and that I could lean on them when I felt doubtful. The process of making this album was my own homemade remedy so it felt right to make Healing Hands the opening track of the record.

Feels Like Home

I wrote this song on my first trip to Nashville last year with one of my closest friends and wonderful writer Jessica Sharman. The song is about finding comfort in the unknown and excitement in the unfamiliar. I was so overwhelmed but so happy to be in America for the first time. I had grown up listening to so much American music and so many American voices it felt like a home from home. It was an amazing trip. The song is also about finding home within yourself so you can take it with you wherever you go.

Different Kind Of Love

This is the love song on the album. It’s about feeling like the love you have with someone is different and unique to any other it just can’t compare. I wrote it with Laura White - an amazing songwriter. Laura has such a positive spirit and a genuine warmth that you don’t see in many people - she brings this out in everyone she’s around and I think this is one of the reasons that this song is so warm and romantic. I love Martin Luke Brown’s production on this track, I love how he makes me sound like I’m in the room with you. It’s cosy and intimate and soft, just like the song.

With You

I love this song and it’s one of my favourite songs to perform live. It’s about letting someone know that you’re there for them when things are hard, even if there’s nothing you can do. Sometimes just hearing that someone is with you and on your side is all you need. I am lucky to have such close community of wonderful friends and this song always reminds me of that.

Break The Pattern

This song is about my relationship with music. Being creative all the time can be hard. Especially when there’s an end goal in mind. While I was writing the album sometimes I felt stuck or felt like I was going round in circles. This song is about breaking a pattern that isn’t doing you any good, and letting yourself have the freedom to be however you want to be in the moment. It’s about falling back in love with the creative process and doing it for the joy of it.

Here We Are Now

This song is about living in the moment and being present and happy in yourself without getting pulled away by worry or regret. It’s so hard to be fully in every moment nowadays. The internet and the news and the pressure of living up to the world’s expectations can be exhausting. Always looking towards the future is constant. This song is about just stopping, and taking it all in.

Wasted Love

I wrote this song in Nashville with Jess and Bre Kennedy and it was one of my favourite sessions. The song is a letter to my very heart broken past self. I was thinking back to a time when I was so doubtful, hurt and lost and I remember feeling so sure that it would never end. Less than a year later I find myself sitting in sunny Nashville, doing what I love, feeling free and calm and content. I wanted to acknowledge how much had changed. The song is about how no love is wasted and that often heartache can be the making of us. It’s for anyone that feels totally lost and under appreciated – a hopeful reminder that time is a wonderful healer.

The Bed You Made

This is definitely the most honest song I have ever written. It’s about recognising your own heartbreak at the same time as realising what is best for you. Sometimes I feel like when your heart is broken, you are also losing part of yourself with that person and that part can take longer to recover from. This song is about finding happiness on my own and finding an inner strength I never knew I had. I wrote it with my good friend Martin Luke Brown on a journey home from Wales after playing a show. We were just talking the whole way home and singing words and melodies without any instruments. As soon as we got home we recorded it. It felt like we found it. I am so proud of this song. I would say it’s the most important song I’ve ever released.

Closer

I absolutely love this song so much! It has been one of my favourites to play live for a long time. Also written with Martin Luke Brown, we had so much fun letting the melodies lead the way with this song. It was produced by the wizard Luke Potashnick, he brought such a unique and powerful character to the track. I love how it sounds. The energy in the music reflects exactly what the words mean. This song is about feeling seen, listened to and truly appreciated. It’s a celebration of when someone loves you for you.

Blue

I wrote this song about being tired of feeing blue all the time. I wanted to throw all of my energy into pulling myself out of it and being with the people I love, reaching a place that’s freer and having no care in the world but that moment.

How True Is Your Love

I wrote this song with my good friend Joshua Keogh. It’s about giving myself the courage to question the love I deserve. That even though I’ve been hurt in the past this didn’t mean losing my trust in love for the future. Throwing yourself into something new can be scary and it’s just about taking the good and the bad and going with the flow. I love how MyRiot did the production on this track. The energy, the instrumentation and the groove - I love it.

Missing The Show

I wrote Missing The Show about being in a relationship just waiting for it’s potential to blossom. Sometimes the idea of the love becomes stronger than the real thing. Relationships can be hard and being heartbroken is hard, but the thought of giving up on someone can be even worse.

Bring Me Home

Bring Me Home is about feeling really homesick. I’ve been living in London for four years now and it’s been really positive overall but sometimes I really miss Wales. I wrote it after coming back to London after being home in Wales for Christmas and I just didn’t want to be back. The pressure of normal life in London was too much and I just wanted to go home. Feeling homesick has been such a big part of growing up for me. I feel lucky to be able to pour it into my music. Luke Potashnick produced this, I love the worlds Luke creates for songs, and this is no exception - this track is very special.

Live Like Love

Live Like Love was one of the last songs I wrote for the album, which is why it is the last original song on the record. It’s about looking back and reflecting on how things have changed and how my own wishes and hopes for my life have changed over time. The first verse sums it up for me, and sums up much of Remedy and the last three years of my life. “Took a little time to think it over, took a little time to grow older, I don’t wanna wait for life, to come around and pass me by, I wanna be so happy I could die”. It’s about focusing on the good. It’s about trying to live through love and surround yourself with people who uplift you and encourage you to be you. It’s about living life to the fullest and having the courage to know your own worth. I love this song, and I love Ian Barter’s production - he brought it to life in a world I’ve always wanted my music to be in.

Praise You

I was so lucky to get to make this song my own, it has made so many things possible for me over the last couple of years that it felt right to have it as part of my first album. I have a soft spot for the piano version I recorded so that’s the version that’s on the record.

Remedy is out now.

[theworstbob]

yellin’ at songs, 3.4.2017

giving due consideration to all the songs which debuted on the billboard chart this week, with a stunning twist ending that will leave you rocked like a hurricane

oops) "That's What I Like," by Bruno Mars

Did this debut 12.10.2016? Yes. Yes, it did. Am I making an exception because it was released as a single on 30 January? Hellz yeah. I think we always knew cheeseball Bruno Mars circa 2012 was going to resurface at some point, and it is here in full force. "Take a look in that mirror/Tell me who's the fairest/Is it you?/Is it me?/Say it's us/And I'll agree." Absolutely no thank you. But this is cheeseball Bruno Mars in the post-"Uptown Funk" era, so yeah it's corny but it's still such a tasty jam, it's fun and it's upbeat and yeah that line is bad but, honestly, saying that line is cheesy completely discredits the hyper-confident "yeah, I know you love it" way Bruno delivers it. He knows it's corny, but he also knows it's gonna make you smile, and goddamnit, he's right. There's two tracks with Future features this week, and I just listened to Future. Gimme some got damn cheese, y’all. I don’t need more bleakness in my life.

4) "Chained to the Rhythm," by Katy Perry ft./Skip Marley

Like, this. This is pop music right now, so I'll take my cheesy-ass Bruno Mars any fucking day of the week, thank you. You know you're in for a bleak and shitty time when the title of the song evokes imagery of imprisonment and enslavement. This is a song about how we're all idiots for enjoying music with our free time. It feels like going to Thanksgiving and getting cornered by your 13-year-old cousin who just watched a Tim Burton movie for the first time and thus has figured out all of life’s secrets. There's a guest verse about how They awoke lions and are about to face the consequences, which is a bizarre aside in a song about how we're all actually asleep. The song does not build to that verse, and the verse does not build off of the song. All in all, though, it's just another entry in the decade-long list of awful Katy Perry songs. "Ur So Gay" turns 10 in November. In the history books, Barack Obama's entire presidency lives within Katy Perry's career as a pop star. Why’d y’all let this happen? I downloaded my MySpace blogs, I can tell ya, I was against this from the jump. This one’s on y’all. Y'all are silly.

42) "Cold," by Maroon 5 ft./Future

Like all Maroon 5 songs, this is acceptable.

54) "Bom Bidi Bom," by Nick Jonas ft./Nicki Minaj

I'm trying to figure out why this song left me so cold. I don't want to pin it all on Nick Jonas. I think I might be judging it based on its presence on the 50 Shades of Gray soundtrack, but I have heretofore associated the 50 Shades of Gray soundtracks with a certain melodramatic trait, and this association has me feeling like "Bom Bidi Bom" is an attempt at light-hearted fare written by people who have never actually smiled. This should be fun, right? This should be tons of fun! But none of the ingredients are fun. I’m not hear to kinkshame but I wouldn’t call 50 Shades a good time, I don't think Nick Jonas is who I'm gonna seek out when I need to party (why would you call Nick when Joe made "Cake by the Ocean," this might just be one Jonas away from truly burning up), and it sure sounds like Nicki Minaj was happy to take that 50 Shades money and run. I wanted to like it! I was pumped, I thought I was gonna have a better time! This song just bom bidi bummed me out. I am so proud of what I accomplished with this paragraph, y'all ain't even realize, man.

62) "Shining," by DJ Khaled ft./Beyonce & Jay-Z

Get that paper, Bey. Get that paper, Jay. You got twins on the way. They're not gonna be cheap, and hey, I know she's killing that preschool game right now, but I don't think Blue's quite ready to live on her own yet! Hook up with the meme man and get that got damn paper! This is a reminder that, even at the peak of her powers, Beyonce can still make the occasional misstep. None of us are immortal. She will barely feel this, just as you will barely feel whatever failure you're presently going through. Take heart! (And if you've yet to find success, remember: before she was Beyonce, she had to be in an Austin Powers movie. No matter where we are, we'll all be okay.)

71) "Helium," by Sia

I respect it. It's definitely not my jam, but I respect it. I only have so much time for piano 'n strings. It's a type of song that has a high floor but a low ceiling. At some point, you start editing the Grey's Anatomy closing-moments montage this'll play over in your head. This is a Sia song, and I'm just seeing Izzy leaving McSteamy in the rain. But: this is that 50 Shades sound I was talking about! So there’s... that?

77) "Heroe Favorito," by Romeo Santos

Bob! the first three seconds of this song: Oh, yo! This might be a nice '70s soul throwback! I'm down with this! Bob! after the dude started singing: Oh. Oh, okay. So this is what you have decided to sound like. Maybe I'm just not feeling it this week. I really dug the guitar solo! There's a lot of things to like about this song! But you have to listen to this dude to get there. I think it may have just hit me in the wrong week, I'm usually down for falsetto, I should be down for this, but I'm thinking about listening to this again in three weeks to give it a fair shake, and I get the funny feeling he's still gonna have this voice.

84) "Everything 1K," by Kodak Black

So here's the thing: fuck this dude. Innocent until proven guilty and all that, but this dude seems like a real piece of shit. There are rappers who are a) not on trial for rape, and b) actually good at rapping. How about the rest of this week we listen to those guys instead!

85) "Everyday," by Ariana Grande ft./Future

This song wasn't really doing it for me until it got to the "la la la" bit, and that's what did it for me. This song is going to sit in the top 20 for a couple weeks at least and it's solely because I feel that the "la la la"s sound the way love is supposed to feel. Future shouting "everyday" over and over again? Enh. Ari trying to sell a line in which she swears? Enh. Ari singing "la la la?" THIS IS WHY I HAVEN'T STOPPED BELIEVING. (In what?) ANYTHING.

87) "Rolex," by Ayo & Teo

This is a four-minute song about a brand of luxury watches. I am sure this is for someone, and I am so happy that something in this world is for them. Other people are happy as a result of this song existing, and my heart soars like an eagle at the thought.

88) "Cash Me Outside (#CashMeOutside)," by DJ Suede The Remix God

i questioned whether there was anything of value to be gained from listening to this song, but now that i've listened to this song, well, y'know what? there was not

93) "It Ain't Me," by Kygo x Selena Gomez

"Who's gonna walk you through the dark side of the morning?" is a lyric I'd scrawl across a thousand notebooks were I ten years younger. This was a "hot track," I daresay! It's like the response track to "We Are Young" I never knew I needed. This is the most I've ever enjoyed Selena Gomez, and Kygo seems chill! This could've been way more overdone than it was! Time will tell if I'm being overly generous to the song that followed the "Cash Me Outside" remix, but I think this was pretty legit!

94) "Yeah Boy," by Kelsea Ballerini

I'm glad I get the chance to talk about Kelsea Ballerini! Kelsea Ballerini's album, The First Time, is a legitimately Great pop/country album. It's a great piece of bubblegum you can chew on for 40 minutes. Now, you likely listened to this song and noticed the presence of the line "Blue jeans and a ball cap" in the first verse, and I am aware I would excoriate a bro country schmuck for being lazy and cliched with a line like that, but here's the thing about Kelsea Ballerini and her album: it's hella basic. When I extol the virtues of The First Time, I am not singling out its grand artistic vision, because this is, on its face, standard pop/country fare. It feels so good with Kelsea Ballerini, though! There's a reason for that: when you check out the Top 50 Hot Country Songs, eleven of the 50 feature female voices. It is, legitimately, the fact that bro country cliches are being funneled through a female artist that make Kelsea Ballerini feel fresh and fun and exciting, just the simple fact of the female perspective is rare enough in country music that it qualifies as an interesting spin on old tropes. None of this is intended to discredit Kelsea Ballerini, or suggest she’s getting by due to some sort of reverse sexism that has never actually existed outside of anyone’s imagination. She is clearly a great talent -- peep how she’s getting it done on an indie label! (One with noted billionaire Terry Pegula’s backing, but, hey, indie is indie!) And I kind of slagged on the artistic vision, and that was unfair, because without some sort of unique perspective, this song still would’ve fallen flat (see: Cassadee Pope’s “Summer”), and all Kelsea Ballerini has done to date is put out quality songs. She clearly knows what she’s doing. And not for nothing: CHOREOGRAPHY! THERE'S CHOREOGRAPHY IN A COUNTRY MUSIC VIDEO! Kelsea Ballerini is a true American hero, and I'm so stoked she's had a successful couple years.

96) "Hurricane," by Luke Combs

See, this guy seems cool, at least as cool as a dude who prolly voted for Trump can seem. (I'm solely judging his beard. His social media is apolitical as far as I cared to research, and while it's encouraging he doesn't think Julian Edelman is a better receiver than Julio Jones and that he's aware of the fact of CeeLo Green's existence, that trashboy beard is just straight GamerGate. C’mon, guy.) This song is basic. "I was in a bar, you walked in, I took you home." Oh wow such a deep intricate story. I can’t think of a single other song where anyone did anything like a hurricane, you sure rocked that metaphor. But because this dude isn't conventionally attractive, this song automatically becomes more interesting, because it feels like more than “hey we found this hot guy to sing about Chevrolet summer nights,” and that makes one actually want to do basic research and see this song has been out for nearly a year and a half and the dude's just been out there grinding this whole time. It’s weird that he grinded this song, of all things, but it’s clear he worked to get here. He might have even written the entire song on his own! That’s only backhanded if you don’t know Nashville. I’m not that big on this song? But I respect him. I can't say I'm going to seek out his other works, but if I’m out of things to do some Saturday afternoon and am presented with those other works, I might give it a shot. Luke Combs: not the worst! Who'da thunk?

Now that I’ve gone on about country music for 10,000 words, which is what anyone came to hear, The top 20 20) "Beibs in the Trap," by Travis Scott (1.21) 19) "My Old Man," by Zac Brown Band (2.25) 18) "Castle on the Hill," by Ed Sheeran (1.28) 17) "Call Casting," by Migos (2.18) 16) "Running Back," by Wale ft./Lil Wayne (2.11) 15) "I'm Better," by Missy Elliott ft./Lamb (2.18) 14) "Way Down We Go," by Kaleo (1.14) 13) "Everyday," Ariana Grande ft./Future (3.4) 12) "Light," by Big Sean ft./Jeremih (2.25) 11) "Guys My Age," by Hey Violet (2.11) 10) "Good Drank," by 2 Chainz ft./Gucci Mane & Quavo (2.11) 9) "Yeah Boy," Kelsea Ballerini (3.4) 8) "It Ain't Me," Kygo x Selena Gomez (3.4) 7) "Now & Later," by Sage the Gemini (2.25) 6) "Shape of You," by Ed Sheeran (1.28) 5) "That's What I Like," by Bruno Mars (3.4) 4) "Despacito," by Luis Fonsi ft./Daddy Yankee (2.4) 3) "Issues," by Julia Michaels (2.11) 2) "iSpy," by KYLE ft./Lil Yachty (1.14) 1) "Run Up," by Major Lazer ft./PARTYNEXTDOOR & Nicki Minaj (2.18) “iSpy” cracked the top 20 this week and that makes me so incredibly hopeful for the future. Also apparently Chainsmokers and Coldplay dropped a collaboration today, so I hope everyone enjoyed Yellin’ at Songs because this is the last installment you can’t make me YOU CAN’T M

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Crying: Savvie on Trial

CW: Whumper POV, intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, video of whumpee's child, intense child therapy recording, referenced shock collar and past drugging, emotional/physical abuse, trauma response, child re-enacting trauma

Note: CW for whumper’s justifications for their abuse in internal monologue

@comfy-whumpee‘s Jax Gallagher finally escapes Savannah Marcoset’s obsession with him, with two children in tow and nearly a decade of abuse and trauma written in his mind and on his skin.

Determined to ensure his children will be protected from the Marcoset family’s potential revenge, Jax goes to court one more time - taking down Savvie, her uncle Isaac, and most of his children in the process. 

Savvie sees the second trial, with its ironclad evidence against her, as Jax’s betrayal of her love for him. When a video of their daughter is shown in court, Savvie and Jax are both surprised - and react in very different ways.

While Savvie does not interact with her children, her thought process is... intense. And so is a brief video depicted in the piece.

---

Even Savvie understands she can't charm her way out of this one.

It was one thing to be in her early twenties and beautiful, full of innocent misunderstandings, to tell anyone and everyone that she hadn't known he wasn't above-board (she had), she had thought she was doing a good thing letting him speak to his father (now that was a mistake), he was her best friend and her rock in the hard days after her parents' loss and she simply couldn't remember life without him (that was never a lie). 

The earnest sincerity in her tone as she explained to her prison therapist how hard she was working at understanding the consequences and working to improve herself had simply been more believable then than it could ever be now. 

You can’t very well have the love of your life abducted twice without it becoming a very difficult decision to defend.

This time, she understands that batting her eyelashes can't make her seem like simply another victim of all these terrible cruelties of the world. She is not going to leave the walls of prison once she walks inside. Not this time.

 After all, the second time, she had had her uncle abduct him out of his own father’s apartment and steal his passport and every other form of ID he might have.

Isaac had drugged him, the Marcoset family employees had stolen his passport and identification, kept him slurred, floppy and hardly conscious on a private plane ride that took just a little less than eight hours, drugged again, and driven to her house to wake up tied to a chair in her practice room, right back where he belonged.

He probably didn’t even enjoy the luxury of the plane. It occurs to Savvie now that she never once asked him if he remembered any of the time he’d spent on the plane with Isaac, if he remembered anything between the men who grabbed him and Savvie bringing her violin up to welcome him home.

You can hardly blame that whole re-abduction thing on being young and foolish, and you definitely can't blame it on the indiscretions of youth when you are thirty years old.

Thirty-seven.

She dismisses the thought.

She is clearly only thirty. She doesn't look a day older, and Jax looks… younger, she thinks, mildly surprised at the realization. Younger, with more weight on him and a set to his jaw that she hasn't seen since… since the first day of his return, when he spit insults at her before she drugged him again, and he was so lax, so pliant, and she had known he would marry her one day from that first moment he curled back up and fell asleep with her hands on him. She just hadn't told him that, at first. 

No one here understands how thoroughly Jax belongs to her, not even him, not anymore. He no longer wears his wedding ring, though she thinks there's still a hint of a tan line there. Maybe not. Might just be a scar. 

He's changed his pretty platinum piercings out for duller metal, plus added back the ones she'd taken out of him herself. They're defiant, those bits of rebellion she never allowed him put back in place. She pictures when she took them out, the way he kept his eyes down for it, swaying a little from what she'd given him in his water. Felt a thrill run up her spine at the memory, his soft slurred voice murmuring Yes, Miss Savvie, one of her favorite sounds in the world. 

He looked better the other way. Her way.

All his scars are definitely still hers, though. He can't forget her. He can wear new rings in his ears and eyebrow and lip and he can dress in grubby low-class clothing that isn't even tailored, but every single scar is a scar she has memorized, and he can’t erase them. They all belong to her, and he knows it, and he knows his body is hers and has been and will always be. 

The scars around his neck - her scars, the little circular spots she wants to trace with her fingernails over and over until he begs her to stop, until she forces him to hold his breath, to get that faraway look in his eyes, until he leans in for a carefully cultivated kiss - give too much away. He can't hide them all. 

The ones on his hands, too, are hers, although those are mostly accidental. There are some on his back, subtle, hidden by his button-up shirt and suit jacket where he sits, so close to her and impossibly far away. 

The back, she did on purpose, dragging nails through his skin until blood welled up, streaks of red that stained her manicured nails, sitting on his lower back leaning over him, her hair a waterfall that brushed his skin. She can remember clearly the way he fought to stay still for her, remembers the pain she gave him with his daughter soft and sweet and so very new in a bassinet only a few feet away, how he'd bled from his palms and stained her sheets in his effort to keep himself quiet enough not to wake the baby.

She's never going to forget that. 

Unfortunately... neither will the jury. 

He's banking on it, she thinks, throwing everything out there that he might have kept hidden otherwise. Everything she thought he wouldn't want his father to know, or to be televised… he gets up on the stand, or he sits next to his lawyer, and he gives away all of it. 

He tells them about the wedding, the judge who knew her family and married them with her uncle Isaac and his family as witnesses and guests. He describes, detached from what clearly horrifies the jury, how during his worst injuries, she made the simple task of giving him the pain medication he needed into a game of how good he could be to earn it. He even tells them, with a strange sort of tone in his voice, about the day she told him she was pregnant with Isabella. 

On the stand, he says the day she had him open the box to find the custom cake with CONGRATULATIONS, DADDY written in frosting was the worst day of them all.

And yet… and yet, after sitting up there telling the jury, and the witnesses in the courtroom, and the judge how unhappy he was… still, he won’t let her anywhere near her son and daughter, not even to say goodbye. 

He bleeds out all his pain, just to keep her from seeing her own children. Just to keep her from having access to what belongs to her. 

Her daughter, her son… him.

Her husband, the love of her life, handing every scar and welt and night they spent together over in his bid to keep her from ever touching him again. It’s cruelty, is what it is. She had never known how cruel he was until he ran away from her. 

He had stared at something far away while he related the story of her uncle dislocating his shoulder and breaking his arm (which, that had been a little much, but she’d made sure Isaac never did it again!), his weeks of pure perfect helpless dependence on her. 

She had watched him speak, remembering the way he leaned forward those days when she made sure that dinner was soup, taking each bite from the spoon she held in her hand. The thrill of leaving him just a little bit hungry, that much more willing to be sweet the next morning.

He belongs to her, and he is going to take everything away. 

His scars, the story written on his body of how she loves him, will be her ruin, this time. Well, that, and the existence of the children he has already turned against her. The children she has already been court-ordered never to see or speak to again. She won't even legally be their mother anymore, he and his devious fucking lawyer are even scheming to take her rights as their mother away. Those children are hers, and how dare he take them, when they were hers first.

He didn't even want them, when they were born - and now he acts like he is the only parent they have. 

The worst part, though...

He won't look at her. It's fucking infuriating.

She tries to catch his eye, now and then, and fails. She looks at him with her head tilted to make her hair fall against her cheekbone when he enters the courtroom with his hair all chopped off again. 

He ignores her. 

She shifts in her elegant, tailored dress - no low neckline or sheer fabric, all sobriety and seriousness to show she will be a model defendant. She wears a silver locket she bought years ago, based on an old Victorian design - a lock of his hair is inside it, curled just so. 

He still doesn’t look, even though he knows his hair is in the locket, she showed him when she put it there. She’d cut it while he was sleeping, and showed him when he woke, to see his face go still, his eyes raise to her face only with effort. If she’s honest... she wanted that hesitation, that uncertainty.

In a deep ocean blue, her pale skin and bright, wide blue eyes are set against her dark brown hair, pulled carefully back each day. She looks stylish, and still modest.

She looks innocent.

 It just... doesn’t matter anymore how she looks. The problem is that she isn’t innocent, and no amount of cultivating an image can overcome the evidence against her. But at least she’s trying. 

Now, Jax… She's pretty sure he wore that same gray suit to her last trial. It had hung on him before, too big for how underweight he was. She had liked the way it sharpened his cheekbones, then. Yes… it's definitely the same suit.

She would remember, of course - she had spent the whole trial, all those years ago, staring at him, wondering if she would ever see him again. He'd mostly looked at the floor, then, but she had gotten his eyes on hers a time or two, seen him stare after her as she was led from the courtroom. She had spent the time mourning his loss, before he ever truly left, and then coming to the certainty that she would never allow him to be taken away from her, not forever. No, they were made for each other, meant to be together forever. She had been convinced his father had tricked in, told him lies about her. 

Even after she knew, deep down, that he wanted to stay gone, she knew just as firmly she would never allow that.

Planning to bring him home again, before he ever stepped foot on the plane that carried him across the ocean away from her, had filled all her days and nights. It had made prison seem so short, just a pause before she could bring him home. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

If he would only look at her... 

She tries to catch his eye, but he never looks at her once. It rankles, makes her teeth itch, to see him stare straight ahead, look at the judge or his lawyer, and never at her. He's doing it on purpose - he must be. He's messing with her. That son of a bitch is messing with her, while he takes away her marriage, her money, her house, her entire life, her children. 

She still loves him, even though he keeps his eyes turned away. She still loves him so much, more than he could ever deserve. She would tell him that, if she could, if they’d just give her a chance. She’ll find a way, somehow. She’ll find a way to remind him that she is never, ever going to let him just walk away. Break his legs, maybe.

The judge says something, and she blinks.

She wasn't paying attention, too busy watching Jax not watch her, and now there is a TV on a stand being wheeled in front of them all. Savvie gives a surreptitious glance around the courtroom, but no one else looks surprised. The jury looks bored, mostly, maybe. Or like they hate her.

It's not as easy to win over the jury now. She’s a woman whose children have been stolen by their vindictive, cruel father, who with his soft sad voice calls himself a captive during his testimony, stammering through the stories that explain all his scars. She’s no longer a violin prodigy in mourning, a young ingenue who just didn't understand what she'd done wrong. 

Or who pretended not to, at least. 

There were parts she genuinely hadn’t understood, maybe, although she is no longer young enough to want to lie to herself completely. He was never just her best friend, her confidant, the thing she loved most in the world. He was always going to be more than that.

God, he looks good today. Jax shifts in his seat, slight creak of the wood, whispers something to his lawyer. She just sees his eyes, in her general direction but not on her, as he moves. The lawyer whispers back, puts a hand on his shoulder. 

He might look confused, as he and the lawyer speak. No, not confused. Troubled? She knows just how to smooth the crease from between his eyebrows, how to lay her hand on his forehead until he gives her a slight soft smile, turns his face to nuzzle against her palm. She knows how to leverage his fear enough to get what she wants from him, again and again and again. The lawyer doesn’t do that.

Jax just speaks, even and strong. 

The lawyer doesn’t know what he sounds like when he trembles, has never slid the blindfold over his eyes with a knife in the room, not planning to use it, just wanting him to think she will. 

No one will ever, ever, know him the way she does.

Savvie straightens her posture, moves just enough to make her locket glint in the light, hoping it will catch him enough to raise his eyes to hers. 

Look at me. Look at me, sweetie. You don't get to stay gone for good, I don't care what you did, look at me. I still love you. Fucking look at me, Jax. Just one look. 

He keeps his eyes slightly down as he shifts away and back to look towards the TV, but he's tense. She knows every inch of the muscles under that old gray suit, how they move under his skin. No one, no one, knows that body as well as she does. She made the scar that runs soft as a kiss over a shoulder blade, and she knows he’s nervous about something now. Unhappiness runs under her skin like an electric charge as she understands that what he’s nervous about isn’t her.

She follows his gaze to the rolled-in television, one of the big heavy ones that must be ten years out of date, and she frowns, folding her hands in her lap, as Jax’s lawyer stands and speaks briefly to the judge, and then moves to the TV with something in his hands. 

“What is this?” She whispers to her own lawyer, one of her hands sliding up to run over the flowers etched in tiny relief into the surface of the locket. 

Her lawyer shakes his head, either he doesn’t know or he won’t explain. He’s doing what he can, she thinks, but of course she was never going to be acquitted. The scars she loves are evidence against her, the children are evidence all their own - he didn’t even want them, she grumbles within herself again. She told Bella that, over and over again, that her father didn’t even want her to be born, that Jax had struggled to even feign happiness, and still the little girl was ripped out of her hands just so he could get his revenge on her. James was just an infant, he wasn’t old enough - but Bella could have come running back in, before Jax walked away. 

Bella could have warned her that her father was going to steal their passports and her money and run out of the hotel, get on trains going different directions to throw her off, and finally head back to his fucking father, who she should have killed years ago when she had the chance.

Isabella should have warned her. It’s her fault, really, all of this. It’s her daughter’s fault that she will never see the outside of a prison again.

How many times did she tell her daughter how much her father must hate her for existing? And still… still, the little girl chose him. Savvie’s fingers close over the locket until the point at the bottom of the heart presses painfully into her skin. Her children, her daughter, her son, her husband. Taken from her, and she’s the villain here? 

How dare he.

The TV lights up flat blue until the lawyer gets the recording to start playing, and Savvie blinks as it opens on a recorded scene, showcasing a large room with deep green carpet standing in for ‘grass’, the walls painted with a nonstop mural of rolling hills, flowers, trees, blue sky. Daisies dot the wall, flowers made by tiny handprints in bright colors, each fingerprint a petal, with a yellow circle in the center and a green stem. She can see a yellow sun painted in one corner. Shelves line the painted walls, with toys and big blocky board books, stuffed animals spill out of a basket in the corner. There are blocks, faded with time and use of many little hands.

At a small table painted with dancing animals, sitting in a chair, is Savvie’s daughter Isabella.

She sits up, hearing her own chair creak, and glances sidelong to see Jax suddenly stiffen, eyes widening just the smallest bit. He’s surprised, too, she thinks, and then her eyes go to the jury, trying to read them. The twelve of them - eight women and four men - don’t look at her or Jax. Only the television.

This isn’t a new recording - Bella is so young, with her gorgeous brown hair so like her mother’s spilling in an overwhelming heap around her. This must be from six months or less after Jax stole them in the first place. Savvie fiddles with the locket, nervous in a way she can’t explain. Her little girl isn’t even wearing a dress, but instead swings her little feet in sneakers, wearing jeans and a Paw Patrol t-shirt, humming to herself.

On the table sits a dollhouse, one of those elaborate plastic affairs. Savvie can see a small claw-foot bathtub, a big four-poster bed, an overstuffed armchair. All of it faded, patched, or repaired as small hands have broken or torn or played rough.

Bella, though, sits quietly, and she is gentle with the dolls as she moves them through the house. She has in one hand a doll wearing a blouse and skirt and a brown ponytail, and in the other a doll in a suit with a tie. 

“What are we pretending, Izzy?” A man’s voice asks, and he comes into view, settling right down next to her. Savvie’s lip curls. Izzy? What an awful nickname for her beautiful delicate pretty little girl. Who would see such a lovely little thing, and hear as gorgeous a name as Isabella, and choose to call her Izzy?

“Mom and Dad,” The little girl answers, faint in the way of a distracted child. “I’m playing Mom and Dad.”

Savvie hasn’t heard her daughter’s voice in… in so long, now. She feels a twist of envy that the sound of that high piping voice has been taken from her, too. Jax is taking everything from her, piece by piece. She glances at him - his gaze is fixed on the television screen, mouth slightly open. Her husband, handsome if rumpled and ruined by changing his hair and his appearance, doesn’t take his eyes off his daughter. 

He won’t look at her, no, his wife and the only thing that should matter, but he’ll fucking stare at a recording of his child.

Not her husband anymore, or so he says, and technically he never legally was, but that’s not really important. They’re married for life. It doesn’t matter what Jax thinks. It doesn’t matter what he wants. It doesn’t matter that he took her children and he’s throwing himself in front of them like he thinks Savvie is a moving bus, all to get her locked away. It doesn’t matter.

He still belongs to her.

He does.

He does.

“‘Don’t look at her,’” The little girl says in a voice she deepens a little, looming the Mom doll over the Dad one. “‘Look at me.’”

“Is the Mommy doll saying that to the Daddy doll?” The man in the recording keeps his voice even, and curious. Jax, to her right, shifts in his seat and leans slightly forward. His hands are folded in his lap, closed into fists. 

“Yes,” Bella answers, glancing briefly at the man, then going back to her game. “She doesn’t like when the Dad looks at the little girl too much.”

“And why doesn’t she like that?”

“Because everyone is supposed to always look at the Mom.” Bella sets the female doll down briefly and picks up a smaller one, a little girl with pigtails and a pink dress. “The little girl scraped her leg and it is bloody,” She informs the man, very seriously. “She didn’t mean to make her dad look at her.” She has big brown eyes, and Savvie swallows, thinking now she understands why this video is being shown to the court. She remembers this - she doesn’t remember a lot of what Jax would complain to her about, what he kept calling abuse until she shocked him often and severely enough to make him stop, but she… remembers this. 

“How did she scrape her leg, Izzy?”

Savvie swallows against a burst of rage. Don’t you dare say it, Bella, don’t you fucking dare.

“Mommy shoved her,” Bella answers, and the courtroom around Savvie is so silent she can hear her own pulse, blood rushing in her ears. “Because she was crying.” Her tiny voice is matter-of-fact, it doesn’t shake with real tears or upset. She simply relates a thing that happened, play-acting it out in her game as if it were the most normal thing in the world. 

“‘Don’t hurt her,’” Bella says in a low voice, shaking the male doll over the female one. “The Dad says that. He is telling the Mom that the little girl didn’t mean to cry. The little girl says that she will be good and stop crying now, but the Mom doesn’t believe her.”

“Why was the little girl crying?” The man’s voice is so soft and kind. Savvie feels a sudden urge to find him in whatever hellhole office in Britain he works out of and strangle him to death with her bare hands.  

“The Mom told her she is a bad girl,” Bella replies, and droops a little, now.

“Why would she say that?”

“Because she is,” Bella says, softer than ever. At his table, next to his lawyer, Jax makes a sound. It’s not a word, it’s not understandable. It’s hardly audible - Savvie thinks even the jury likely didn’t hear it. But she did, and she looks subtly over at him to see his face is pale and his hazel-brown eyes are oddly glittery under the fluorescent lights. “She isn’t very good at being a little girl, she’s so bad. She made noises when the mom didn’t want her to.”

“Izzy-”

“‘Don’t say that,’” Bella makes the dad doll say, shaking him in the air, angry, picking up the mom doll to face off with him, their two plastic carved faces with fake smiles inches apart. “‘Don’t say that, Savvie. She is a good little girl and you are mean to her, you are being a mean mommy.’”

Savvie closes her eyes. Fuck. 

“‘How dare you,’” The mom doll says, and Savvie can’t quite force herself to miss how perfectly her daughter can echo her anger, how her voice rises with it. “‘She is mine and I will say whatever I want! She is mine mine mine.’”

Well… she is.

“‘Yes, Savvie,’” The dad doll says, Bella’s little-girl voice feigning depth, and from the corner of her eye she sees Jax shudder, the slightest movement of his body, barely perceptible. “‘But you can’t talk mean to little girls and boys.’”

“‘I am the mom and I can do whatever I want.’” Bella, expression deeply serious, sets the mom doll down and starts fiddling with the dad doll’s legs. She bites down on her lower lip as she works, finally figuring it out and Savvie feels her stomach drop as Bella sets the dad doll up - kneeling on the floor.

“What happens now, Izzy? What are you doing?”

Bella looks up at the doctor, and the grainy video of the recording blurs and lessens the impact, Savvie hopes. She doesn’t dare look at the jury now. Instead, she tries to think of what she’ll say - it’s a lie, Bella was coached, Jax and the lawyer and this Dr. Marty are all teaching Bella to tell lies, he hates her so much he’s poisoning her babies against her. Something, she’ll say something-

“‘Get on your knees for discipline,’” Bella says, in her mom-voice. 

Jax, at his table, closes his eyes and leans forward, one hand over his mouth. His shoulders shake, once, and it reminds her of every time she set off his collar, but much too quick for that. She can’t stop watching him - she shouldn’t, it doesn’t look good when a video like this is playing, but she can’t… stop. He looks so fucking good.

There’s a red streak, a flush, in his cheekbone but otherwise his face is nearly white, the piercings standing out even more than before. His hand grips over his mouth, and she thinks about every time she has pressed her own hand there, with a smile, to mute his objections. His eyes open to look back at the screen, not like he wants to but like he can’t stop himself, like he’s drawn to watch against his will.

“How often does that happen?” The man asks, in his casually neutral voice, and Savvie would put a bullet between his eyes if she could. How dare he, this is leading. At the same time, she feels a sudden swell of rage towards the little girl being led. Bella knew how to keep secrets before Jax left, did she forget so soon? He must have told her-... but no, no, he’s as surprised to see this video as Savvie is. No, this little game is entirely Bella’s fault. Savvie takes in a breath, lets the anger sweep through her, loathes her own child, so thoroughly turned against her now. 

She can lay all of this at the feet of a four-year-old girl. Well, not four any longer. But four when this happened. Or five. When is Bella’s birthday?

How old is she, now? 

Bella only shrugs at the question, lost in her game now. She has the mom doll tell the dad doll to stay quiet - “‘You’ll upset her, honey, you know better than to say no to me’” - and then acts out the dad doll shaking from the shocks, and finally makes him scream, the sound deafening loud in the silent courtroom.

She does a pretty good impression of the way Jax sounds when he’s screaming, actually. If the jury didn’t hate Savvie before, they definitely do now.

The man in the video looks surprised and sits back a little, then asks, almost tentatively, “And what does the little girl do?"

Bella sets the dolls down and picks the little girl one up, frowning at her. “She watches,” She says, voice low and soft. 

“Why does the little girl watch?”

“Because it’s her fault.” Bella’s voice trembles. “If she looks away, her mom will make it worse. She can’t-... she can’t help.” She looks at the doctor, something imploring in big brown eyes and her rounded small-child face. “She tries and tries and she can’t keep her dad safe.”

Damn straight it’s your fault. Savvie fights to keep her irritation and annoyance from showing on her face, tries to look sympathetic, maybe even worried. She’s usually good at this, but at the moment, she’s so angry at Bella for repeating this on a video, for giving Jax another tool to hurt her with, that she isn’t quite sure if she pulls off a sad expression at all.

“It’s not a little girl’s job to keep her daddy safe, Izzy,” The man says, softly, soothing. Reassuring. 

“It is her job,” Bella says, and shakes her head, looking at the little girl in her hand. “But she’s not good enough at it. She’s too little, she can’t do anything. I hate her!” She throws the doll across the room in a sudden burst of anger - it flies offscreen, but the clatter of it hitting something is audible - then claps her hands over her mouth, staring wide-eyed in horror. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I’m not angry I’m sorry, I know better, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-”

The man speaks to her, trying to interrupt the flow of apologies, It’s all right, Izzy, nothing is broken, you are allowed to feel angry, you are allowed to be angry about this, hoping to hold back the waterfall of her sudden fear. The little girl turns her face away from him, pulls her hands down and rubs them compulsively, nervously along the seams of her leggings. She shakes her head at something the man says and looks down at the floor, the green-grass carpet, her own brightly colored tennis shoes. 

Her hands close into fists, as tightly as they can, a perfect echo of her father.

Jax’s shoulders shake again, and this time Savvie recognizes the sound, it sings deep down into her soul. It’s a sob, desperately muffled. He’s trying to hide it, but he can’t hide, not from her. She knows all his sounds of pain by heart. He says something to his lawyer, less whispered, less controlled. 

She thinks she hears a please, and hates him for giving that word to anyone but her.

The video cuts off, and Jax’s lawyer calls for a recess. Savvie rolls her eyes when the judge grants it - theater, that’s all this is, make Jax look all bothered by a stupid video, so he’s the sad scared little man and she’s the big bad witch. It’s so transparent, really. He does a good job acting, though, his face is reddened and she can see the faintest glimmer of a tear track as his hated awful father stands, from his own spot in the first row, to take him by the arm. Jax leans, just barely, away from him and he never looks up as he’s led down the aisle and out. They’re talking to each other, in voices too low for her to overhear, except to hear Jax’s crack a little.

Oh. Maybe he’s not entirely acting.

Savvie stands as the courtroom erupts into whispers, ignoring the weight of every eye on her and her lawyer’s attempts to get her to sit back down, looking after the two of them, and she wonders what about the video upset him so much.

Maybe it was just the crying.

----

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @wildfaewhump @whumpiary @whump-tr0pes @moose-teeth @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @vickytokio @eatyourdamnpears

[zoeykaytesmom]

What is Life (Chapter 10)

@esparza-army  @sweetsummertime99 @jramirezblogs @tropes-and-tales @gibbs274 @lyssa1385 @barbafan69 @xemopeachx @thatesparzacrush

January 1996

“So, what’s up with you and Rafael,” Krystal asked one afternoon as she and Izzy sat studying for different classes. Krystal was majoring in business while Izzy was drawn more toward Sociology.

“What do you mean?”

“Erin said he hardly left your house during Christmas vacation.”

“Oh, you’ve been talking to Erin, huh?”

“A little,” Krystal shrugged.

“We just really…hung out when he would come over.”

“I see potential and Erin said she saw you two kissing.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal and I’m going to kill her if I see her at Spring Break. It was more or less just…”

“Your tongue in his mouth?”

“Well…I…I…you and Erin need to mind your business.”

“Whatever you say,” Krystal laughed.

“Look, we’re just sort of starting over in a way.”

“Making out isn’t exactly starting over,” Krystal laughed.

“We’re 3,000 miles apart. Neither of us exactly have the money to go back and forth to see each other. I’ll be lucky to go home for spring break, honestly.”

“How many guys have you dated since we’ve been in college?”

“3 or 4?”

“2.”

“I stay busy with my classes and getting ready for track season.”

“And you can’t date? Are you that picky?”

“Not really. I mean, I’ve just always concentrated on school and sports more than boys. Sure, they can be fun but my education is gonna get me somewhere in life. A guy can get me something I have to take a round of antibiotics to get rid of or something that I have to carry around for 9 months…”

“I bet if it was a certain guy from the Bronx…”

“Hush.”

“Are you saying you don’t want kids?”

Izzy just sort of shrugged. She had never really thought too much about it. Maybe one day, after she was established in whatever career she could decide on. Part of her wanted to get her Master’s in Social Work. She had thought about becoming a psychologist at one point. She had a little year to go and still hadn’t thought about what to do with her degree after she would graduate in 97.

“You’re just going to leave me here all alone and go to Texas for Spring Break?” Izzy teased Krystal as she packed her stuff.

“I need to go see my parents. Probably swing by Six Flags and see some of my old friends that are still around the area. I can’t believe you’re not going home.”

“Erin’s parents and brother are going to Chicago. I’ll be home all summer so I can see my brother and my parents then.”

“What are you going to do all week? Sit here and watch movies?”

“I thought I might actually get caught up on my laundry, clean up my side of the room.”

“It would be nice to come in and it not look like another earthquake hit. How are you such a slob?” Krystal sort of laughed.

“No idea. My brother is a complete neat freak. He would’ve been a great Nazi actually. It’s all about order with him. He has two sock drawers, one for colors and one for whites.”

“It’s so funny how twins can be complete opposites or identical in every facet possible.”

“Science, dude.”

“Dude. That doesn’t even sound right coming from you.”

“Don’t you have a plane to Love Field you need to catch?”

“Something like that. I’m going. Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone.”

“I’ll do my best.”

**************

“I have got to start doing my laundry on a better schedule,” Izzy muttered to herself as she threw her third load in the dryer.

“Why do you always talk to yourself?”

She recognized the voice coming from behind her but thought her mind was playing tricks on her. It couldn’t be. There was no way.

“Well, are you gonna turn around and say something or just leave me standing here like an idiot?”

“Rafael.”

“Finally! Fly almost 3,000 miles and apparently your laundry is more important.”

“I do prefer clean clothes, ya know?”

“I’ve seen you wear the same t-shirt two or three days in a row.”

“On a spring break maybe.”

“So, do I get a hug or not?”

“What are you doing here?” She asked as she rested her head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

“Nice to see you, too,” he scoffed.

“I didn’t mean it like that. How could…”

“It was your roommates idea. She changed her ticket home so I could come visit you since you weren’t going home for Spring break.”

“Then where is she?”

“I think she was flying into D/FW instead of Love Field. She talks faster than you do sometimes, I couldn’t keep up.”

“You’re one to talk. So, you’re here for the whole week?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

“It is okay if I stay in your room? Krystal said she would change the sheets on her bed this morning before she left.”

“I wondered why she was doing that. Yeah, my RA is cool. How’d you know where I was?”

“Uh, I guess it was your RA, actually. Rex?”

“That’s him. Rex Winters. Like I said he’s cool.”

“Yeah, he asked if I was looking for someone and I told him you. He said he saw you with your laundry bag, opened your room so I could set my suitcase down, and told me where the laundry room was. What’s with the look?”

“I just can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“You act like we were never gonna see each other again.”

“It’s not that. Come on. Help me load this stuff in my car.”

“I’ve been in California for an hour and you’re already giving me orders?”

She took him to a pizza place not far from campus where they ate while they discussed their third to last semester of college. He had taken his LSAT’s and was awaiting the results of them, which was one reason when Krystal called and offered to change the one plane ticket she had, after a lot of arguing because he didn’t like people just giving him things, he decided a week away from Harvard and even New York couldn’t hurt.

“So, what did you think?”

“It’s not New York pizza but it was decent. So, what are we gonna do for the week?” He asked as they drove back to campus in that same 1978 Beetle she had driven for years.

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re here. You, Rafael Barba, are not on the east coast for once in your life.”

“You know you love it,” he said with that smirk.

“I am…I mean, I’m really happy to see you. I’m just still in shock.”

“Well, I hope it wears off soon because you have a busy week to plan.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep. You’re gonna take me to Disneyland, Hollywood Blvd, the Paramount Tour, all of it.”

“We’ll see about Disneyland,” she laughed as they walked up the stairs to her room.

Once inside, she sat her keys on her desk while he fell on Krystal’s bed.

“You can’t be tired.”

“Are you kidding? The time difference is already killing me.”

“Take a nap, you big baby.”

“You know…you could take a nap with me.”

“You could take one with me,” she counter offered.

He got off Krystal’s bed and laid on Izzy’s instead. She threw her flip-flops off and crawled over next to him.

He looked down at her, their noses grazing each other as he tilted his head she closed her eyes as his lips started gently brushing hers. She ran her hand through his dark brown hair while his hand traveled up the gray USC t-shirt she was wearing.

She grabbed his hand quickly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she told him as she bit her bottom lip. “I…uh…just…”

He noticed she was slowly pushing his hand down. “Oh, I see,” he smiled. “All you have to do is ask,” he whispered before slipping his hand into her cotton shorts.

After they made love for the second time ever, he just wrapped his arms around her, kissed the top of her head, and they fell asleep that afternoon so he could get on California time.

**************

“I can’t believe I am standing in George Lucas’ footsteps,” Rafael acted like a child on his birthday as he stood in the Star Wars creators footsteps outside of Grauman’s Chinese Theater.

“I think your feet are a little bigger,” Izzy teased.

“Wait! Indiana Jones!”

He seemed to be having more fun than she had ever seen him have as he stepped on Harrison Ford’s footsteps, along with C-3PO, R2-D2, and Steve Spielberg’s as well.

“What are we gonna do now?”

“Well, we’ve spent most of the morning here. You want to drive down to the Santa Monica Pier? Maybe grab some lunch and go for a swim?”

“I didn’t bring my stuff.”

“And you say I’m not organized,” she said as she stuck her tongue out at him. “Why do you think I threw my back pack in the backseat?”

“I had no idea,” he laughed. “Let’s go.”

After a few beers and some burgers, they went and changed, then found a spot on the beach.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked as he rubbed sunscreen on her shoulders.

“Sure, Rafa.”

“I don’t want to go back to Boston Sunday.”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” she admitted as she dropped her hair and turned around to him.

“This has by far been one of the best weeks of my life. I don’t just mean the…sex either. Although with you, it’s so much better than it was with…you know.”

“Yeah, it has been pretty good,” she giggled.

“How many guys have you been with since we…that day before you left for college?”

“Rafael!!”

“I’ll tell you.”

“One.”

“That’s it? In two years?”

“Yeah,” she sort of shrugged.

“Am I that good that no one could compare?”

She took the bottle of sunscreen and squirted it on his chest.

“Oh, you better run!”

“Like you can catch me!!”

He chased her into the water where he grabbed her over his shoulder and dumped her backwards.

Neither of them could stop laughing, even after she came back up. “You are such an ass.”

“I was only kidding,” he mocked as he pulled her to onto his lap.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“You said…”

“Yelina, who was never happy with anything I did. This other girl I dated for about 3 months, Kerri…she always seemed bored. Then there was Donna. She got a little too clingy, if you know what I mean.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I met her at a party, thought it would be a one night kind of thing. She was nice enough, though, so I took her on a few dates, hung out with her for a few weeks, but she wanted more. I mean, she was talking about getting married within two weeks.”

“No way.”

“I’m not kidding, Izz. There’s only one person I’ve felt that I could see that happening with.”

“You’ve thought about getting married?”

“After I graduate law school and get a job. Sure? Who hasn’t? You’ve never thought about it?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged as they just sort of bounced in the water. “I need to decide what I’m going to do for a career first. So, who have you thought about marrying, other than Michelle Pfeiffer?”

“Hey, she was hot in that Catwoman suit, I don’t want to hear it. You seriously want to know?”

“I asked,” she replied with a smile.

He brought her face to his to kiss her before looking up at her with his green eyes, taking a deep breath, and whispering, “You.”