#you CAN count to 35 on your fingers though if you use base 6. just use one hand to count the ones and the other hand to count the sixes

[coquelicoq]

metric system this, imperial system that. they're both so inefficient. so they say we count in base 10 because we have 10 fingers, huh? well if you count on your 10 fingers in base 6, you can get all the way to 35. when i'm president we're converting everything to base 6. more bang for your buck.

[secretgamergirl]

How a Computer Works- Part 4 (Binary Math)

This is the 4th part in a series of posts explaining how computers work such that you can build your own from just wires and spare electronics (or hell, Minecraft redstone signals, a carefully balanced water fountain, anything you can build logic from really). The series starts in this post, the most recent entry before this was part 3, but the only REALLY required reading for this one should be part 2. Get that knowledge in your brain so this next bit can make sense to you.

Also, I'm basically teaching a pretty in-depth computer science class here for free out of the goodness of my heart, so if you have the cash to spare, maybe consider throwing a little money my way so I can keep surviving and doing stuff like this?

Our focus for today's lesson is going to be actually designing one of these modules we have hooked up to the bus to actually do stuff with any data we pass into it. As I've mentioned a few times, all of this stuff we're passing along can be thought of in a lot of different ways. Completing a circuit when one tracing wires out connects to a positive charge and another a negative means the same thing as a gate saying true, will turn a light tied in there on, we can call it a 1 in our abstract computery talk, or several other things, but we're dong math today so let's think about numbers.

Let's think in Binary

So I think I've referenced binary numbers a few times in a really hand-wavey sort of way, but it's good to stop and make sure we all get the concept thoroughly. Normally, when we think about numbers, we're using our good pals the Arabic numerals- 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9. We just decided to make unique little squiggles to represent these first ten numbers if we include 0, and then if we add together 9+1, we're out of symbols, so we start a new column, put a 1 in it, and reset to 0 in the one we're in. So, 9+1=10. We call this "base ten math" because ten is where we have to start that new column... but really, we kinda just picked ten out of a hat for this? Presumably it's because most of us have ten fingers.

Maybe if we all had hands like typical American cartoon characters, we'd only have made eight unique symbols. 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 and 7. Add 1 to 7 and we start a new column there instead of after coming up with symbols for those fingers we don't have. In base eight math, 7+1=10. It's a smaller group we're dedicating that next numeral over to, but you can see how that works, right?

Or hey, what if the first person to start counting stuff on their fingers just thought about it differently. You can totally hold up 0 fingers. So really on just one hand you can easily go 0 1 2 3 4 5. Well, what if we just use our other hand past there? Every time we run out of fingers on our right hand, we reset it to zero and add one on our left. It's base six math in this example but hey with just our hands we can display any number from 0 to a base six 55! Which in base ten would be, let's see, 5x6+5, so, yeah, any number from 0 to 35, but that's still pretty good. Converting it into base six is kind of a pain since you've gotta stop and do the multiplication, but if we all just kinda thought in base six we wouldn't need to convert at all.

And hey, what if we really thought big here? Instead of using one hand for the next column of numbers, we could just treat every finger as a column on its own. Holding some of the required groupings of fingers up can kinda give you a hand cramp, but hey we've got ten columns that can hold a 0 or a 1, so we can count all the way up from 0 to 1111111111! Or uh, in base ten, 1023. Still a really impressive number though! Just explaining this to you I've upped how how you can count on your fingers by more than a hundred times. You're welcome! Sorry about the hand cramps. We're not looking into binary math for the sake of saving fingers though, we're doing it because we're designing logic circuits and doing math on the assumption that the only symbols we have to count with are 0 and 1. Anyway, just so we're on the same page, let's count up from 0 in binary for a while here:

0, 1, 10, 11, 100, 101, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 1010, 1011, 1100, 1101, 1111, 10000.

You can follow along with the pattern right? And if you're curious what that'd be all standard base 10 style, let's count through that same number of... numbers that way.

0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16. I made some of these bold to make it a little easier to count along. It's the ones where we're adding a new column in binary, and hey look, it's all the powers of 2. If you have to convert in your head, that makes it easier.

Binary Addition

So let's try thinking in JUST binary now and do some basic math. Before we get into the double-digits- Wait no, if we're pedantic, di- is the prefix for ten things so we shouldn't be saying "digits," we're in base two, so, bi- so... the double bits, I guess), we're just got:

0+0=0. 1+0=1. 0+1=1. 1+1=10

Hey, wait. does that pattern look familiar to you? Like we had to go to a second bit for 1+1, but just ignore that for a moment and look at the lowest one. Humor me. We saw this same pattern in part 2!

0 xor 0 outputs 0. 1 xor 0 outputs 1. 0 xor 1 outputs 1. 1 xor 1 outputs 0.

Oh damn. So if we want to add two bits of data, we just XOR them. All we have to worry about is the spill-over into the next column. Well.. hell, let's see what this looks like if we're looking at two columns here.

00+00=00. 01+00=01. 00+01=01. 01+01=10.

If we just look at the "1s column" digit, yeah, XOR works. And is there a pattern for the "10s column?" Well, it's a 0 for everything except when we go 1+1... we had a logic circuit for that too though, right? Yeah, good ol' AND. Only outputs 1 if both value A and value B it's looking at are both 1.

So OK. We rig up a circuit that has a XOR gate and an AND gate. We feed the first number we want to add into both of these gates, and we can display our answer as a two bit number, with what the AND spits out on the left, and the one the XOR spits out on the right. BAM. We are masters of addition... so long as the highest numbers we want to add together are 1+1. We uh... we should probably try to improve upon that. Also we've got this whole structure to the whole computer where we've got these registers feeding in and out of a bus with a fixed number of data bits on it, kinda would be nice if the number of bits going back out to our bus was the same as the number coming in to our addition circuit... and like, yeah, that's kind of an impossible goal since it's always possible when adding two numbers the same length that you need an extra column to display the answer, but you know, if the first bit of at least one of the numbers we're adding is a 0 it'll fit, so let's get to that point at least.

So OK. Let's expand things out. We're adding any 2 bit numbers now, and let's pretend we've got like a calculator with a 3 bit display.

000+000=000. 001+000=001. 000+001=001. 001+001=010.

010+000=010. 011+000=011. 010+001=011. 011+001=100.

000+010=010. 001+010=011. 000+011=011. 001+011=100.

010+010=100. 011+010=101. 010+011=101. 011+011=110.

I'm being kinda redundant with showing 0+1 and 1+0 and such. Let's narrow these down to just the ones we need a new bit of logic to make happen though. The 1s bit is groovy. We feed the 1s bits of ANY two numbers into a XOR gate, we get the correct 1s bit for our answer. And if the next bits over are 0s, we can pop what's coming out of our AND gate in there out to there and that's fine too. We're also good if we just look at the 10s column, everywhere we don't need to worry about the 1s column affecting it. The places where we need to do more with our logic are just where we're doing the whole "carry the 1 thing." I already set up the grid of all these so that's just the stuff in the far right column, but hey, let me bold those up too.

And let me just kinda blank out these other bits so we're really focused in on the part where there's a problem...

_0_+_0_=_1_. _1_+_0_=_0_. _0_+_1_=_0_. _1_+_1_=_1_.

Well huh. If we're just looking at a bit in the middle of our big long number, and we're carrying a 1 to that position, we sure seem to be getting the exact opposite of what we get when we aren't carrying anything in here. So OK, let's redesign our logic circuit here. We've got our bit A wire and our bit B wire coming in like we did before, going into that XOR for this output bit, but we need to add a wire for whether we're carrying a 1 in from the next circuit over, and if so, flip that result. Do we have a way to do that easily? Well OK, logic chart time. If we have a 0 and no carry, we want 0. I'm lazy, so, 0 bla 0=0, 1 bla 0=1, 0 bla 1= 1, 1 bla 1 = 0. Oh, that's another XOR gate. We XOR A and B like before, and then just XOR that result with our carry bit, and we are definitely displaying the right thing in this part of our answer. Now we just need to double check if our corner case of handling a carry messes with the next carry anywhere and... oh damn yeah.

011+001=100, and 001+011=100. These are the cases where the 1s column carrying a 1 to the 10s column means we have to do something different with that carry bit. So, we're still making our carry-the-1 result a 1 if A and B are 1... but we also need to make sure it's a 1 if we are both carrying something in, AND our original XOR gate is spitting a 1 out. Well we can throw that AND in there, and we can throw in an OR to check either of these two conditions, and there's our new and improved carry-the-1? result.

So let's put it all together now!

For a given bit, we have value A, value B, and Carry. We have a XOR gate that takes A and B in. We feed the result of that and Carry into another XOR gate. That spits out the sum for this bit. Then we AND the result of that first XOR and our Carry feed that result into one side of an OR gate. We feed A and B into a second AND gate, the result of that is the other input for our OR. That OR now spits out a fresh Carry bit. We can plug that into the next adder circuit down the line, for the next column to the left in our result. BAM, there we go. Just clone this whole weird set of 5 logic gates for as many bits as you want to deal with, daisy chain those carry values into each other, and congratulations. You have somehow rigged together something where electricity goes in, electricity goes out, and the weird path it has to take along the way has this weird side effect where you can work out what two binary numbers add up to. Please note again that we didn't at any point make some sort of magical computer person and teach it how to do math, we just found patterns in how electricity flows and where the pure math concept of logic gates and binary math happen to work the same way and exploited that for a result that's convenient to us. Shame that was such a pain wiring up, but hey, every time you add another copy of this onto the end, you double the range of numbers you're able to work with. Eventually that hits a point where it's worth the effort.

Well addition is all well and good, what about subtraction?

OK, so just to take stock, so far we have a big addressed block of memory somewhere we keep our numbers in. We have, for example, 8 bit lines on our bus, and when we want to do addition, we set stuff that turns on "hey, place with our first number, put it on the bus" then "hey register A, read the bus for a moment," then the same to get a number to slap in register B, and we've got this sum register sitting between registers A and B with a bunch of these adder circuits hooked in between all the bits. We might have some leftover carry line with a 1 on it and nowhere to plug it in, but ignoring that spill-over, every bit on our bus is to go good for addition. When we're setting up command codes, we can make more to do some other math with A and B and that's all well and good, but we have a real big problem when it comes to subtraction, because out of what's going into A, going into B, and coming out of sum, at least somewhere we're going to need to deal with the concept of negative numbers. So when we're doing subtraction, one line on our bus needs to be reserved for whether it's positive or negative. If you program, you're maybe familiar with the concept of unsigned integers vs. signed integers? This is that. With only positive numbers, if we've got say, 8 bits to work with, we've got a range of 00000000 to 11111111 to work with, or 0-255 in decimal, but if one of those is getting swiped for negative or positive, now we're talking like, -127-127.

But wait, that's not quite right, is it? Like if we arbitrarily say that leftmost digit is 1 if we're negative, we get things like, 1 being 00000001, 0 being 00000000, -2 being 10000010 etc. but... what's 10000000? -0? That's the same thing is 0. That's redundant and also gonna really screw the count up if we're like, adding 5 to -2! Or really, any other math we're doing.

Oh and we also need to remember when we're stuffing a negative number into a memory register, it's not like that register knows what concept the bits we're shoving into it represent, so like, you personally have to be responsible for remembering that that 1 on the leftmost line, for that particular value, is noting that it's negative, and not that the 10000000s place or whatever has a 1 for some number, or the first of 8 switch variables you're stashing in this address to save on space is on, or whatever else. We here at the memory address hotel are just trapping electron wiggles in a weird little latch or we aren't. No labels, no judgements.

So OK no matter how we're storing negative numbers we need to just actually remember or take notes some way on what the hell convention we're using to represent negative numbers, and where we're applying it. But we also need a convention where like, the math works, at all. Just having a bit be the is it negative bit works real bad because aside from having -0 in there, we're trying to count backwards from 0 and our math module has no conception of back. Or of counting for that matter. Or 0. It's just a circuit we made.

OK, so, let's maybe store our negative numbers in a different way. You know how a car has an odometer? Rolling numbers counting up how many miles you've gone? And there's a point where you run out of digits and it rolls back around to 0? Well funny thing about our addition thing is if you add a 1 to a display of all 1s, that also rolls back around to 0 (and has that carry value just hanging out in space unless we have a better idea of what to plug it into). So if we like, have all the numbers we can display printed out on paper, and we represent that rolling over by just rolling the paper up and taping it, so we have a bit where the count is going like: ..11111101, 11111110, 11111111, 00000000, 0000001... well we can just arbitrarily declare that all 0s is really 0, and the all 1s before it is -1, etc. Try to make that work maybe. And still remember that 10000000 or whatever is where we abruptly loop back between the highest positive/lowest negative numbers we're handling.

Here's a funny thing though. If we start counting backwards, we totally get this inverted version of what we get counting forwards. Just going to show this with 3 bits for convenience but going up from 000 you go:

000, 001, 010, 100, 101, 110... and going back from 111, you go

111, 110, 101, 100, 011, 010, 001... and yeah, look at that with a fixed with font, and it's all just flipped. And huh, you know what else is cool? If we go back to saying the first bit is 1 for negative numbers and a 0 for positive, you can just add these and it almost works. You want to subtract 1 from 1, that's the same as adding 1 and -1. Invert the negative, that's 001+110=111... 1 shy of the 000 we want. Huh.

What about 2-2? 010+101=111. 3-3? 011+100=111. Everything that should be 0 is 111, which is 1 less than 0 when we roll over. What about stuff that should be positive? 3-1? 011+110=(1)001. 2-1? 010+110=(1)000. 3-2? 011+101=000. Still all 1 off if we just ignore that carry going out of range.

-1-1? 110+110=(1)100, which translates back to -3... and that's kinda the only example I can give that's in range with this, but throw in more bits and follow this convention and it'll all keep working out that you get exactly 1 less than what you want, turns out. So, if we're in subtract mode, we just... invert something we're bringing in then add 1 to it and it should all work out?

So OK. We have a wire coming into math land from what mode are we in, it's a 1 if we're doing subtraction. We XOR that subtract line bit with every bit of what's coming into B, that does nothing if we're in addition mode, but if we're in subtraction mode, we're flipping every bit, and tada, the subtraction works without any other changes. We just need to conditionally add 1 if we're in subtract mode now but... wait, we already have literally that. We just take this same "we are in subtract mode" wire and run it in as a carry-in to the rightmost bit of our adder chain. Again, if we're doing addition, that just carries in a 0 and does nothing, but if we're in subtraction, it carries in a 1, and... we're done. The explanation was a long walk, but yeah, when subtracting, just add those extra XORs, plug in that carry, and remember your negative numbers are all weird in storage. Done.

Let's do multiplication and division next!

No. We can't do that.

Well seriously, that's not a thing we can just layer on top of this relatively simple thing we have wired up. We've got this lean mean math machine will give you whatever result you need basically the instant you load values into A and B. Definitely by the time you, being conscientious about not leaving the doors to the bus open all the time, officially flag things to write out from sum and into whatever destination. Multiplying and dividing though, we need more steps, and we need scratch spaces for temporary values. I suppose if you're careful you can multiply by like, loading 0 into B, load the first number you want to multiply into A, just feed sum directly into B, and pulse the clock however many times you want to multiply, but... you probably don't want to just constantly be reading and writing like that, it's tying the whole bus up, unless you have an alternate pathway just for this, and you have to keep count. Still, I'm assuming that's how people do it when they build a dedicated function in. I'm still looking at older systems which assume you're going to do most of your multiplication one step at a time, running through some code.

There's one big exception though. If you multiply any number by 10, you just add a 0 onto the end of the number... and guess what? I'm not using "10" specifically to mean "ten" here. Whatever base you're doing your math in, that still works. So in binary, if you just want to specifically multiply by 2, it is super easy to just shift every bit to the left. Like, have some sort of "shift left/multiply by 2" wire come in, set up logical conditions so that when its set, all we do is have the bit that we are feed into the carry flag, then for the sum ignore everything but the carry flag. 00011001 turns right into 00110010. I picked that out of a hat, but that's binary for 25 getting doubled to 50 as I eyeball it here. Dead simple to do as a single operation. Shifting everything to the right, AKA dividing by 2 is similarly simple... and hey, you might notice that in say... very old games, there's a whole lot of numbers doubling. Like ghosts in Pacman? Each is worth twice the points as the last? Yeah that's because that's easy to do fast.

Other math though takes more steps, and tends to involve extra hardware design to make it work. Like if you're doing division where you aren't guaranteed to have a whole number at the end, so, most division? Suddenly you need to have decimal points in all of this, and work out where they go, and this is why you hear people talk about "floating point processors" as this whole special thing that we just did not have for decades. For now at least, that's beyond the scope of what I'm teaching. Might get there eventually.

A final bit about bits...

So hey, we need to pick some arbitrary bit count for how wide we make our bus and our registers, and also some number for memory registers, command codes, maybe other stuff. And you just kinda want to pick a nice round number. You can't pick ten though, because ten isn't a round number in binary. It's 1010. So usually, we round down to 8, nice and simple, or we round up to 16. And then if we're like filling out charts of values, it's easier to count in those bases. Counting in base 8 is easy enough. 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 10. With base 16 though, we need 6 more symbols in there, so we go with 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 A B C D E F 10. And sometimes people make a point of making the B and D lowercase, because if you want to display those on the sort of 7-segment display you still see on cheap clocks or things going for an 80s look, B and 8 are too similar, and D and 0. Base 16 is also called hexidecimal. People will shorten that to "hex" and you see it a ton when people are looking at raw data and don't want to get thrown by long binary numbers, and it particularly gets out to the general public when we're talking about like, 8-bit color values. 8 bits gives you a number from 0-63, hey that's just 2 digits in base 16, so like, for HTML color codes, you can use 2 digits each for red green and blue values, and technical artists just kinda memorize stuff like "right so FFFFFF is white, 700080 is a pretty bright, slightly blue-ish purple, etc."

We tend to go with 8 bits in most places though, or some multiple of 8 anyway, and someone randomly decided to call 8 bits a byte, and that's kind of just our standardized unit for measuring data now. Well mostly standardize. Because people will say, like, 1 kilobyte is 1000 bytes, but in practice people actually round things off to binary values and they're going to actually be off a little.

Anyway, linguistic trivia! Whatever number of bits it is we store in a register/load to the bus is called a "word" and we talk about how many bits long our words are, because once you design the architecture, you're stuck with it and all. And sometimes you want to be space efficient and not use a whole word, so you do some logic gate trickier to chop off whatever portion you don't need when reading it and not change what parts you aren't trying to when writing it and just kinda store multiple variables in a single value. One common thing that happens as a result of this is that you'll break up an 8-bit value because you just want like two values from 0-15 instead of one from 0-255. And when we're working with one of those half-bytes, because puns, the actually term for that is "a nibble." No really. And if we're using a single bit for a variable a lot of the time we call that a flag. Common to see a byte used to hold 8 flags.

For now let me just point anyone following along with this at this first post of me talking about the game console I'm designing. That's a pretty similar topic to this one.

Let me also point you again at my patreon, too.

CONTINUED IN PART 5

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Nine: Friday

a/n: happy friday lovies!! I am soooo excited for y’all to read this one bc it was my favvv chapter to write and I still get emo over it :’) also I think I should maybe let you all know that we only have two more chapters left in this series, and I can not thank you enough for all of the love and support you have shown it. It has been such a blast hearing your thoughts and sharing Halani with all of you lovely people, and I can’t believe the fun is almost over :( BUT we still have some time before we have to think about that soooo without further ado here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive humor

Word Count: 9.5k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight

Monday

Harry takes a deep breath and raises his arms above his head, feeling every vertebrae stretch as he lies flat against the surfboard. The beaming sunlight warms him down to the bone and it threatens to lull him to sleep, but his attention is too occupied with the various sounds coming from each direction. Out of his right ear, he hears the waves lapping against the shore and the faint sound of children’s laughter. From his left, Mitch and Tom engage in a serious conversation about sharks. He lets one foot slide off the edge of the board and wade into the water below, all the while resisting the paranoia that he will be the next victim of Jaws thanks to his friends’ discussion. 

“I’m gonna go switch out the camera.” Paul says beside him, already swimming back to the shore. 

Harry gives a thumbs up in acknowledgement and lets the back of his hand rest against his forehead. He floats for a moment longer before swinging his other leg into the water and sitting up. His feet gently tread below the surface and he studies the area for any fish sightings, but his shoulders slump in disappointment when he doesn’t find any. 

“I just think,” Mitch defends, legs crossed on his own surfboard. “That I would survive way longer than you,”

“It’s not a fuckin’ zombie apocalypse, survival rate depends on how severe the attack is,” Tom shoots back. 

“Not if you’re smart,”

“Right, good thinking, mate. Just yell the Pythagorean theorem and swim away while the bloody thing tries to solve it,”

“You just don’t get it.”

“Stop bein’ a coward, then, and put your feet in the water.”

Harry shakes his head in amusement and continues scanning the scene for something else to occupy his attention. His eyes momentarily land on a couple in the distance, the pair facing each other on their shared surfboard and laughing. He smiles softly and glances back to the shore where his group has set up camp for the afternoon. Squinting, he tries to determine the time of day using the sun’s position overhead, but quickly gives up and swims back to the beach. The sand clings to his wet toes as he jogs over to his bag and digs inside for his phone. The time reads 2:37–Alani’s shift will be over soon. 

She stifles another yawn and punches in her customer’s order, re-typing it when she realizes that it’s littered with errors. Her mind had been in a permanent fog since she woke up at 6:45 this morning. Harry had already slipped out by the time she reached over for him, but he left a note on his pillow this time. 

GOOD MORNING SWEETS!

SORRY I HAD TO JET SO EARLY :( I’LL SEE YOU AFTER WORK.

 H ☼

P.S. ALREADY MISSING YOUR LITTLE SNORES ♡

As if on cue, Alani’s phone vibrates in her back pocket and she slips it out to read the new text. 

Harry: Meet me at Honoli’i after your shift? 

She really wants to, but she’s also in desperate need of sleep. 

Alani: Gonna take a power nap first, but I’ll be there 

Harry: Can’t wait xx

********

In the distance, Harry hears The Cure blasting from a car in the parking lot. He hums along and picks at his bowl of fruit, saving the kiwis for Alani who once said they were her favorite. Jeff and Paul laugh about something between the two of them before the director catches Harry’s attention. 

“How long you planning on staying here?” he asks. 

Harry checks his phone again and the time reads 4:35. He wasn’t entirely sure how long Alani’s nap was supposed to last, but just as he’s about to answer, a text comes through. 

Alani: Heading over. See you soon, sunshine💗

He smiles softly and shuts his phone off. “I actually have a surfing lesson at five. But I’ll meet you guys at the house after.”

Paul, the two Jeffs, Mitch, and Tom bid Harry farewell and decide to take a drive along the coast before heading to dinner. They mention the name of the restaurant they plan to go to, but Harry knows he’ll probably skip it and take Alani somewhere else. He sits back on his elbows, watching the palm trees sway in the breeze, when suddenly his vision goes dark when he feels hands over his eyes. 

“Guess who,”

“The Queen of England?”

“Yes and I’m here to colonize your land and steal your jewels,” Alani jokes in a posh British accent.  She leans over his head so they partake in an upside down kiss before settling into the sand beside him. 

“You’ve already had my family jewels,” he teases with a suggestive wiggle of his brows. 

Alani scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You are so insufferable sometimes, I swear to God,”

Harry lies back and rests his head in her lap with a shit-eating-grin plastered to his face. The damp locks along his hairline are curled and Alani twirls the pieces between her fingers. 

“Saved y’some kiwis,” he informs her, nodding in the direction of his tote bag. 

“Aw thanks, baby,” 

“How was your day?” 

Alani removes the lid and pops a slice of kiwi into her mouth. “Long, boring, tiring. A lot better now,”

“Feel the same way,”

“How’s your project going?” she questions, curious about his recent, mysterious whereabouts. 

He shrugs. “S’fine, yeah,”

“What exactly is it, again?”

“It’s a,” Harry starts slowly. “Video thing… kind of,”

Alani narrows her eyes and lifts another piece of fruit to her lips. “Meaning?”

“It’s like—following uh.. the album ‘n stuff,”

“Ah the elusive album,” Alani nods. “Will I ever get to hear any of it?”

“Yeah,”

“When?”

“Dunno,” he blinks. “When’re you gonna let me read that article of yours?”

She smirks and taps her fork against her lower lip. “When it’s ready,”

“Then I’m withholding my thing ‘til it’s ready too,”

“That’s not fair,” she objects. “My article is contingent on your music,”

“One song,” Harry bargains, holding up his index finger. “In exchange for one paragraph. Seems fair to me,”

“Deal,”

He sits up suddenly and opens his mouth as an unspoken request for a kiwi. Alani tosses it in his direction and to her surprise, he catches it effortlessly. 

“You really are a freak of nature,” she marvels. “What can’t you do?”

“Stay away from you, apparently,” 

“Ditto,”

“D’you wanna head to the water for a bit?” Harry asks, his eyes landing on the board cast to the side.

Alani nods. “Sure thing,”

She strips down to the pink two piece underneath her clothes and accepts his outstretched hand. They shuffle through the sand, joint hands swinging, but Harry stops and scans her face when they reach the edge. 

“What?” Alani asks, already dipping her toes in the water. 

He runs his thumb over hers and starts hesitantly. “I know the water is kind of…”

“Oh,” she finishes when he trails off. “Yeah. I mean, for the most part I’m okay with it. Last time was just—I wasn’t expecting it,”

“I’m really sorry for that.” Harry apologizes with a somber look in his eye. 

Alani reaches her free hand out to his cheek and offers a comforting smile. “No, it’s okay. I actually used to be pretty good at surfing,”

“Oh?”

“Haven’t really done it in years, though. I’m probably really rusty now,”

“Well maybe it’s time to get back on the horse,” Harry urges, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of her palm before leading them further into the waves. Alani gets up on the board first and it's clear that she’s a natural despite the lack of practice. Her muscles fall into a mesmerizing rhythm as they repeat the very motions she had done thousands of times before her accident. Harry’s eyes carefully study the precision of her determined arms slicing through the water and the way her feet gracefully meet the board once she’s found a strong enough wave. She glides back to the beach and revels in the familiar feeling of the ocean breeze against her skin. Harry whistles from the distance as she reaches the shore, turning back to him with a wide grin and two thumbs up. 

“Your turn,” she calls, paddling towards him on her stomach. 

Harry replaces her on the board and winces. “Maybe I should’ve gone first,”

“You’re gonna do great,” Alani insists. “Tighten your core muscles. Oh! And bend your knees, not your back. Just trust your instincts and follow through,”

He follows her advice and to his surprise, does well, though not nearly as graceful as she had. Despite this, Alani cheers from the side as he glides back to the beach. Harry takes a bow once his feet have safely met the sand below. 

“I knew you could do it,” she beams when he swims back to her. 

“Couldn’t have done it without my amazing coach,” he shoots back, leaning down to press a salty kiss to her lips. 

With Harry’s help, she swings her leg over the board and sits so that they face each other. Their legs paddle gently below the surface and his hand finds the top of her knee, giving it an affectionate squeeze. 

“You were incredible out there,” he muses. “Can’t even tell that you’re out of practice,”

She wrings her hair out and fastens it into a low bun at the base of her neck. “Guess it’s like riding a bike—the muscle memory and all that,”

“You’re a great coach, you know. Cause I usually just wipe out,”

“That’s normal,” Alani nods. “You have to get used to falling. And wait for the right wave,”

Harry admires the way the afternoon sun sets her aglow, skin shimmering and golden under the rays. “How d’you know when it’s the right one?”

“You just feel it I guess. It’s like a gut instinct that you have to follow. And no second guessing yourself, either, cause that’s when you mess up,”

“What if you do go for it and you still wipe out?” He questions, something besides surfing in the back of his mind. 

Alani sighs. “Then you wipe out,”

“You just have to trust?”

“You just have to trust,”

Harry hums as he considers this. Three burning syllables bounce around in his skull, but he suppresses them for the time being. Carefully, he lifts himself to his feet and motions for Alani to do the same. It takes them a second to find their balance on the board, but eventually they do and Harry brings her closer with a protective hand on the middle of her back. 

“D’you trust me?” he murmurs. 

Alani studies the different shades of green in his irises and feels a flutter deep in the pit of her belly, so she decides to take her own advice and presses a soft kiss to his warm lips before responding. 

“Yes.”

Carefully, Harry takes a step back and twirls Alani before pulling her flush to his chest and swaying to the music stuck in his brain. As best they can, the pair dances on the surface of the board but Harry’s foot gets caught in a slick spot and he tumbles backwards, bringing Alani with him. When they emerge, his heart races in worry, but the knot in his chest eases when he hears her laughter.  

“Y’okay?” he checks. 

“Yeah,” she assures him, her legs snaking around his torso under the water. “I’m alright.”

The sky turns pink as they continue to wade peacefully in the water, and the entire time Harry finds himself fixated on the weight of the three little words nagging at the back of his brain. 

********

Tuesday

“Say it again,”

“No,”

“Please?”

Harry shoots Alani an unamused look through the corner of his eye. “Dunno what’s so funny about it,”

“Just say it one more time,” she pleads with a mischievous glint in her eye. 

“Tuesday,”

“Chews day,” Alani mimics and Harry rolls his eyes. 

“You’re so clever,” he huffs. “Really, a true comedian,”

She giggles and leans over in her seat to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s cute!”

“Yeah, whatever,”

“Okay, just one more—”

“Alani,” Harry chuckles, more endeared than irritated. “Don’t make me turn this car around,”

She pouts playfully and returns to watching the trees and passing cars. “At least I’m not asking you where we’re going,”

“You are so stubborn,” he shakes his head. “I told you we’re almost there,”

“I just don’t understand what it is with you and keeping secrets,”

“It’s about the mystery, darlin’, it’s romantic! Just trust me, okay? Have I ever steered you wrong?”

Alani nibbles at the skin on her lower lip and folds her arms. “No,”

“Okay, then,” Harry says finally. “Now change the song. I let you have fun with one Taylor, but it’s getting old,”

“Hater,” she grumbles, shuffling through the rest of her playlists before settling on Madonna. 

Harry’s finger taps along to the beat against her thigh and his lips turn up when he hears Alani singing along. Her eyes are focused on the road ahead of them as she pretends to be in a music video of her own, creating hand gestures and choreography to accompany the lyrics. The chorus builds and she belts out the words as if her life depends on it. 

“I’m crazy for you!”  She performs, squishing Harry’s cheeks between her hands. “Touch me once and you’ll know it’s true. I never wanted anyone like this, it’s all brand new. You’ll feel it in my kiss,”

Alani presses a slobbery smooch to the side of his face and he groans, laughing when she continues melodramatically. The song goes on for another minute and Alani sings passionately out of tune, but it makes Harry’s heart swell. He briefly considers joining her, but decides to let her have her moment, too amused by the way she’s caught up in the emotion. When it’s finally over, she slumps down in her seat with a dazed look in her eye. 

“Gotta love the 80s,”

“Maybe I should let you join the band,” Harry suggests. 

“Really?

“No,”

Alani gasps in mock offense, her eyes wide. “Hey!”

“Yeah,” he smirks. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she dismisses offhandedly. “I’m a sweetie,”

“A sweet pain in my arse,”

“Arse? Did you really just say arse?”

“I take it back, you’re just a regular pain.”

The two of them drive for another forty-five minutes taking playful jabs at each other and watching the lush greenery whizz by. Harry had been characteristically cryptic in his instructions the night before, an idea suddenly popping into his mind when Alani reminded him of her day off. He had told her to wear something comfortable and practical, nothing that could flow easily in the wind. Furthermore, he revealed that he would pick her up at exactly 7:00 a.m. which made her eyebrows shoot up. 

“Seven?”

“It’ll be worth it, promise,”

“Can we at least get McDonald’s hash browns for the road?” Alani had bargained. 

Harry chuckled to himself, too excited to deny her. “Sure thing, sweets.”

Welcome to Waikōloa Beach, the sign read and Alani wondered what could possibly have possessed Harry to drag her out of bed and across the island at the crack of dawn. Her question was quickly answered when they turned onto Keana Place where a lot full of helicopters were lined up and waiting. 

“‘Big Island Tours’,” she reads aloud. “Wait a minute, we’re not—”

“Surprise!” Harry beams, reaching behind her seat for a bag. 

Alani scoffs, her mind still trying to process. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Come on,” he pleads. “Been dying to do it since I got here,”

“So bring Mitch! Or Jeff, or Tom or literally anyone else,”

Harry gives her a pout and bats his lashes. “But I’d rather be with you. Please?”

“Harry,” she sighs, taking another glance at the helicopters before her. They did seem secure enough, enclosed on all sides, and he had driven an hour and a half just to surprise her with something fun and totally outside of her comfort zone. 

“Trust me?” he asks after a minute, kissing her knuckles gently. 

Alani takes a deep breath and nods. “Fine.”

They exit the SUV and Harry takes her hand, slinging his bag over his shoulder. There’s a short, stocky man with dark sunglasses standing in front of one of the helicopters with a clipboard. He checks his watch when he sees the two of them approaching and reaches out a hand. 

“Mr. Styles?”

“Harry,”

“Nice to meet you Harry, I’m Matt,” the pilot says with a firm handshake. “Is this your guest?”

“Alani,” she greets. “Is this…”

“It’s very safe,” Matt assures her with a warm smile. 

Harry squeezes her hand gently and looks over their mode of transportation. “How long’ve you been doin’ this?”

“Almost ten years,” the pilot explains. “I was a commercial pilot for twenty-five and then started this when I retired,”

“I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of nervous fliers, then,” Alani speaks up, attempting humor to mask her jitters. 

Matt nods with a knowing smile. “Oh yeah. Plenty of anxious girlfriends who kick their boyfriends for dragging them into it, but they always enjoy themselves in the end,”

Alani’s cheeks warm at his assumption of their relationship status, but neither her nor Harry address it. Instead, Harry clears his throat and asks his next question. 

“So when can we go up?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Matt offers. 

Once the three of them have settled into the aircraft, he hands Harry and Alani each a headset and goes over the basic safety rules. Her heart races and stomach turns, but she takes a deep breath and wills herself to give it a chance. Beside her, Harry is enthusiastically chatting up Matt and being his usual charming self; his confidence is reassuring and she finds herself sinking deeper into his side for comfort. He drapes an arm over her shoulders protectively, sensing her nerves, and presses a firm kiss to her temple. After a few minutes of discussion with the air base over the radio, Matt gives them a thumbs up and signals that they’re ready to go. Another deep breath and they’re off, the ground growing smaller and smaller below. They skim over Waikōloa Village and head west to Waiulua Bay where the water is so clear and blue, Harry has a hard time believing it’s real. Alani peers down at the tiny people all along the coast and in the water and her throat goes dry. She feels Harry nudge her shoulder lightly and looks over to where his finger is pointed. 

“Down there you can swim with dolphins,” he says. “Looked it up last night,”

“And we’re not doing that because...?”

Harry flashes a dimpled grin and laughs softly to himself. “How are you not enjoying this?”

“I am,” Alani insists, which is steadily becoming true. She watches in amazement as they hover over the expanse of the lush, green landscape along the coast. 

Over the headset, Matt points out some key landmarks and answers more of Harry’s questions. They pass over an active volcano and Alani momentarily feels a rush of terror, but her curiosity takes over as she snaps a photo of the molten lava below. She captures another one of Harry looking out his window before flipping the camera to selfie mode and making a peace sign. He turns to tell her something, but flashes a cheesy grin and presses a kiss to her cheek when he notices the camera. Alani writes a mental note to make it her lock screen later. 

After half an hour in the air, Matt points to the cliff on their right hand side and says they’ll be landing there for a bit as part of the tour. A 200 foot waterfall feeds into a small pool and he lands them on a ledge across the way. The three of them exit the helicopter, but Matt says that he needs to check in with the base and lets them explore the site alone for a few minutes. 

“This is incredible,” Alani marvels, looking over the edge. 

“Knew you’d like it,”

She turns to him and snakes her arms around his shoulders, leaving a small peck to his lips. “Thank you,”

While she had been almost one-hundred percent sure that she would never enjoy a helicopter ride, Alani is glad that she was wrong. She is even more grateful that Harry had encouraged, but hadn’t pushed, her to try it. If Alani had been absolutely against the idea, she knows that he wouldn’t have pressed it any further and would have taken her to do something more her speed, hence the dolphin back up plan. It sometimes felt like they were from entirely different worlds, Harry being more sure of himself and adventurous while Alani was careful and preferred to have things planned. But he made her feel brave and spontaneous without pressuring  her to change anything about herself. Harry had seen something special in her and wanted the whole world to see it, too. So he encouraged her to break out of her comfort zone and let her true self shine, but only at her own discretion. Over the course of the past few weeks, Alani had noticed herself opening up to new experiences and loving every minute of it, but this transformative feeling was far from one sided; because of their relationship, Harry learned the value of trusting his own instincts. For so much of his life, he felt like a member of an overcrowded democracy allowing himself to go with the majority rule even if it didn’t particularly please him. From their earliest moments spent together, Harry was inspired by Alani’s determination and self-confidence. He had always cared deeply about other people’s opinion of him and felt that it was his greatest weakness, but she seemed so unapologetically herself at all times. And though Harry sometimes worried that he was simply playing a part for the rest of the world, he never had to question who he was with Alani. She understood him, she grounded him, and amidst all of the unfamiliarity in his new life, she felt familiar and safe. 

“You deserve it,” Harry says gently. “To see beautiful things.”

Alani presses their foreheads together and studies his emerald eyes like they’re the rarest gems she’s ever seen. “Well I’m looking at the best damn view right now,”

“Although, I wish you would’ve told me we were going to Jurassic Park, I would’ve prepared my Laura Dern outfit.”

Harry laughs softly and slots his lips between hers, those three, pesky little words nagging at him again. Not yet, he thinks, but almost there. 

********

Wednesday 

Alani takes an extended lunch and heads over to the recording studio with food for Harry and his friends. He had warned her beforehand that there would be filming, so they agreed to pretend, just for the afternoon, that she was his assistant. However, their true relationship was as much of  a mystery to the both of them as it was to everyone else. Alani had considered, on many occasions, asking him to officially be her boyfriend. She didn’t know how else to refer to him when her mom had started inquiring about the Range Rover mysteriously parked across the street every morning. Each time Alani had gotten up the nerve to ask, however, she secretly worried that it was too soon, or worse, that he would say no. Much to her oblivion Harry had also wrestled with this question, and many others, but also feared her response. What they shared was undeniably strong and completely foreign, so they had independently decided not to put too much weight on the situation in fear of bursting the bubble too soon. Neither of them were prepared to deal with the fallout if it all came crumbling down. 

“Lunch is here!” Jeff calls from the doorway as he escorts Alani inside. 

He motions her over to the table in one corner of the room and helps her lay out the food, thanking her warmly when she declines payment. 

“It’s on the house,” she reassures him. 

The crew all take turns grabbing their lunch, Mitch ruffling Alani’s hair in a display of gratitude while he swipes his burger, and settle into various chairs and comfortable spots around the studio. Harry is the last one to claim his food and he lingers around the table as he does so. 

“Thank you, Ms. Hale,” he offers politely, itching to give her an appreciative kiss. 

She nods and returns the professionalism. “You’re very welcome, Mr. Styles,”

“How’s the weather?”

By now, Alani has come to recognize this as his go-to inquiry when he’s really asking for her attention or affection. 

“Full of sunshine,”

“Glad to hear it.” he smiles softly. The casual slip of his nickname isn’t lost on him. 

“Hey Harry,” the director calls. “Show Jason that Bob Dylan thing you were doing—watch, you’ll love this.”

Harry musters up a pleasant smile and quickly glances at Alani, wanting nothing more than to escape with her for the precious few moments she has left to spare. 

“Occupational hazard.” she shrugs as her cue of permission. His fond look turns apologetic before he saunters over to the rest of the group. 

Alani watches, amused, as he lifts a guitar and starts strumming a tune that she hadn’t heard before with a Dylan-esque lilt in his voice. The crew all laugh and encourage his impression, but she still wonders what the song is and reminds herself to ask later. After a few moments with the rest of the group, Harry’s eyes wander to Alani munching on a french fry and scrolling on her phone. Jeff notices this too and decides to help his friend out.

“Hey Alani,” he calls. “Come sit with us,”

She looks over to Harry and he grins eagerly, making room on the couch between him and Mitch. 

“Alani makes the best smoothies in the world.”  Jeff comments to the film crew. 

“It’s true,” Mitch adds. “Harry loves ‘em.”

A subtle glare radiates from the singer, but Mitch simply winks in response. 

“Well, you guys are my favorite customers,” Alani offers. “But don’t tell the others,”

The whole team makes Alani feel welcome and she’s endlessly thankful for it, making an effort to engage every crew member in some sort of small talk as evidence of her gratitude. Harry enjoys her presence among his friends and how easily she fits in. It serves as further proof of what his gut already knew: she was a missing puzzle piece in the image of his ideal life slowly coming together before his eyes. Alani checks the time an hour later and starts bidding farewell to the group, much to their disappointment. As she slips out the door and over to the Bronco, a familiar accented voice calls from behind. Before she has time to respond, a pair of warm lips meet hers and she hums. 

“They’re all goin’ out  for dinner at 5,” Harry explains gently. “Come back to the studio then, I have somethin’ I wanna show you.”

********

It’s 5:10 when Alani makes her way back to Napua. Harry had texted her beforehand to say that the door would be open, so she lets herself in and scans the quiet room. She hears the soft keys of a piano, but the room is dim and she has to get closer to see that it’s Harry seated there. Candles are perched around the room and Alani watches her step, reaching a hand to Harry’s shoulder when she reaches him. He stops playing and flashes a soft smile, inviting her to join him on the bench. 

“Digging the ambience,” Alani remarks lightly, not entirely reading his mood. 

He shrugs. “Just felt right,” 

Harry’s fingers return to the keys and he starts with a somber chord that makes Alani’s breath hitch. His vocals are raw and gritty, but stronger than she had ever heard him sing and it nearly moves her to tears. She hangs on every word and burns them into her mind for safe keeping, though she doubts that she could ever forget this moment even if she tried. Harry picks up into the chorus and leaves nothing behind, diving straight into the wave without fear of wiping out. Alani tries, but she can’t contain the tears that spill over her cheek. It’s as if every ounce of apprehension and anxiety, every doubt and moment of insecurity is cleansed from her soul right in this very moment. When the song comes to an end, she immediately wishes to relive it and tries to find the right words in response. 

“That was incredible,” Alani clears her throat. “What’s it called?”

“Sign of the Times,” he responds. “Not really sure about it,”

She furrows her brows in confusion, but quickly realizes that he’s being honest and not fishing for compliments. 

“Why?”

“It’s… different,”

“Than?”

He thinks for a moment and chooses his next words carefully. “Anything I‘ve ever done before,”

“And why’s that bad?” Alani questions with a comforting hand weaving its way into his hair. 

“Dunno,” Harry sighs, leaning into her touch. “I just don’t wanna get it wrong,”

At this moment, “it” isn’t just the song. Everything about his new solo career, and his life in general, is a toss up, and one that he isn’t sure will land in his favor. Alani has no doubts, though, not when it comes to her faith in Harry’s abilities. 

“Are you happy?” she asks. 

He looks over to her and thinks that he couldn’t possibly be more content. “Yeah,”

“Then you’re already succeeding. If you’re happy with what you’re doing, then no one can tell you that you’re not successful,”

Harry feels his own wave of emotions pooling at the bottom of his lash line and he’s grateful that the low lighting conceals it. He closes the gap between their lips, palm secure against the side of Alani’s face as he keeps her close. 

“There’s somethin’ else I wanted to talk to you about,” Harry says gently and Alani feels her heartbeat pick up. 

“Okay,”

He isn’t sure how to approach the subject, despite the fact that it’s been the only thing on his mind for days, so he decides to trust his gut and speak from the heart.

“These past few weeks with you,” he starts slowly. “Have been the best of my entire life. When I’m with you, it’s like nothing else in the entire world matters, and nothing bad could ever happen to me because there’s you,”

Another tear rolls down Alani’s face and Harry wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. 

“All I asked for was a chance,” he continues. “And it feels like you’ve given me the entire world. Do you remember the day when we saw that rainbow?”

“Yes,” Alani nods, voice small. 

“You told me to wish for something, and I did. I wished for a home. I didn’t know why, but that word wouldn’t leave me alone after you said it. But I think I understand it now, because I’m in a place I’ve never been before, physically and in my life generally, but you make it feel like home. You bring me home,”

Alani feels as if all of the air inside her lungs has been sucked out, and her grip on Harry’s wrist tightens because she worries that if he lets go, she’ll float away like a helium balloon. 

“I know I’m not perfect,” Harry continues, voice wavering. “But this thing we have feels like it could set the world on fire, and I’d gladly walk in the flames for you. So would you please say you’ll be mine and let me prove it?”

“Yes,” Alani breathes, tears of relief and joy still streaming down her face. “But I need a moment to compose an appropriate girlfriend acceptance speech,”

Harry grins and presses their lips together as if she’s the only source of air. 

“Seriously,” Alani chuckles when they pull apart. “Cause how the fuck could I top that?”

“Y’don’t need to. Saying yes was all I needed,”

She unclasps her fingers from his, draping her arms around his shoulders instead, and takes a deep breath. “You’re everything, you know that? You’re the sun and the whole universe revolves around you.”

“And you’re the most heavenly moon,” Harry responds thinking back to the meaning of her name. “Mahealani.”

********

Thursday

When Alani’s father had asked for her help setting up a wedding that was taking place at the resort this weekend, she jumped at the chance. It wasn’t often that she got to be involved in the events at Honu, but she adored the luxurious five star hotel and all of its amenities. She had helped her dad cater numerous events over the years and weddings were her absolute favorite, especially because of the beautiful gowns and all of the blissfully happy couples. It felt like a privilege to glimpse into the most special moments in the lives of strangers she would probably never see again. Alani had been tasked with meeting the bride and collecting any last minute meal cards or notes of dietary restrictions from guests. The wedding was to take place the following night, but all the food prep would begin that afternoon in order to adequately prepare. 

“I think that’s all. There were just a few last minute adjustments,” the bride, Mila, says pulling out an envelope from her bag. 

“No offense,” Alani starts. “But shouldn’t you be resting? I mean isn’t the maid of honor supposed to do all this? Or a wedding planner?”

Mila sighs, an embarrassed smile spreading across her rosy lips. “I know, I’m just a bit of a control freak. I like things done a certain way,”

“Totally understandable,”

“Like the music thing,” Mila rolls her eyes. “It was my fiancé’s idea. He said that DJs were boring and wanted to let the guests choose their own songs, instead. So that was my compromise. I’m trying,”

Alani offers a chuckle and shuffles the last of the cards into her stack. “Sounds like you’re already mastering this whole marriage thing,”

“Are you married?” the bride asks, curiously. 

“Oh, no I’m not,” 

“Got a boyfriend?”

Alani’s cheeks warm and her lips curl. “Yes,”

“Knew it,” Mila comments with a knowing smirk. “You’re too pretty to be single. And you’ve got the look,”

“What look?” Alani questions. 

Mila flutters her lashes and sighs. “The ‘I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it’ look. Like a Disney princess,”

Alani laughs shyly and focuses her attention back to the envelopes in front of her. 

“What’s his name?” the bride pries. 

“Harry,”

“That’s a good one,” Mila considers tapping her lower lip. “Like the Prince of England. Maybe you will be a princess, after all,”

Alani is amused by the irony of her statement, but she chooses not to disclose the fact that her boyfriend actually is British, albeit, not a Royal. Instead, she chooses to deflect the attention back onto the bride. 

“And what’s your lucky guy’s name?”

“Chad,”

“Like the country,”

“Yeah,” Mila giggles. “Like the country,”

“And what’s he like?”

Mila rests her chin in her hand and a dreamy look settles into her hazel eyes. “Funny. He wanted to be a comedian, but he became a lawyer, instead. That’s how we met— law school,”

“What kind of law do you practice?”

“Ironic enough,” Mila chuckles. “Family and divorce law. I never thought I’d get married, I mean I literally hear about people falling out of love every day. But the thing about love is that it’s effort, and a lot of people aren’t willing to put in the work. It doesn’t feel like work when it’s the right person, though. Just feels like ‘how can I be the best possible partner to this human that I love so much?’”

Alani considers this, her mind immediately wandering to Harry and all of his thoughtful gestures. “Makes sense,”

“Chad is a patent lawyer,” Mila continues. “He’s the more creative, outgoing one, I guess. He makes things light when it gets too heavy, you know? It’s good to have someone like that,”

“Yeah, definitely,”

“What’s your guy like? What does he do?” Mila asks with a flirty grin. 

“He’s, uh,” Alani thinks for a second trying to be as vague as possible. “A musician,”

Mila gives an approving nod. “Dreamy. Bet he writes lots of songs about you,”

“Maybe,”

“Don’t be shy,” Mila urges. “Come on, it’s just us girls. Spill,”

Alani thinks for a moment and imagines that the same dream cloud must be present over her own features.

“Well he’s kind, thoughtful, romantic, and wise. Really funny, too. I don’t know he just—he makes me wanna be a better person, really,”

“Wow,” the bride marvels. “Sounds like a hell of a guy,”

“He is,”

Mila leans in conspiratorially and Alani does the same. “Speaking as an expert, I think it’s gonna last forever,”

“You think?” Alani asks. 

“Oh yeah,” Mila assures her. “When you’re so used to studying fake love, you get really good at recognizing the real deal,”

Alani offers her an appreciative smile and nods. “Thank you,”

Mila’s eyes light up suddenly and she grabs Alani by both hands. “Hey you should bring him! Yeah, you two should come, I insist,”

“Oh, I—”

“Please, say you will! Maybe he can throw in some good music recommendations to offset the terrible ones,”

Alani chuckles and she knows immediately that Harry would leap at the chance to do so. “Okay, sure.”

“Yay!” Mila cheers, reaching into her planner and jotting a note down. “Harry and Alani at the lovebird’s table.”

********

“Hey, sweets,” Harry beams, pulling up to the front of the hotel in the Cadillac. “Waiting on your boyfriend or are you just in the habit of standing on sidewalks lookin’ cute?”

“The former,” Alani responds coyly. “He’ll be here any minute,” 

“And he’s got a pretty girl like you waiting outside like this? You should dump him,”

She shrugs and turns on her heel for a stroll while Harry gently eases off the breaks to follow. “I don’t know, I’m kinda fond of him,”

“S’that so?” he continues with a smirk. 

“Yup,” she sighs. “He’s kind of a dork, but I like that about him,” 

“Heyyy—”

“And he’s a good kisser. The best at cuddling, too,” 

“Sounds like a catch,” 

“He is. You two should meet sometime,”

The car comes to a halt and Alani slips inside, scooting all the way down the bench seat next to Harry. 

“Funny, you should be a comedian,” he quips.

Alani’s brow furrows and she shoots him a doe-eyed look. “What’s the joke?”

Harry laughs dryly, ignoring the pang of irrational jealousy that strikes him in the chest. “You’re a little too good at this bit, it’s starting to feel like we're not talkin’ about me anymore,”

“Oh, were we supposed to be talking about you?” 

His head whips over to Alani who clutches her stomach with laughter. “I’m kidding, baby, of course I’m talking about you,” 

“No, who is he?” Harry demands playfully with a deep furrow between his brows. “Tell me, I’ll hurt him,” 

Alani slots their lips together and his pout eases into a grin. 

“Hey what are you doing tomorrow night?” she asks, feeling the ocean breeze through her hair. 

Harry flashes a dimple in her direction. “Anything you want, s’long as we’re together,”

“Will you be my plus one?”

“To?”

“A wedding,” Alani explains. “The one my dad’s catering at Honu,”

His eyebrows raise and he smiles wide. “Are we crashing it?”

“No,” she laughs. “We were invited. I was hanging out with the bride today and she added us to the list,”

“‘Kay, but I’m still gonna pretend we crashed it,”

Alani drapes her arms around his shoulders and leans her head against his. “Where are we going?”

“Damn, I thought I had you distracted,”

“Boyfriend rule #1: You have to tell me where we’re going always,”

Harry narrows his eyes. “That’s not a real rule because surprises are romantic,”

“Too bad,” Alani shrugs.

“But don’t you enjoy my surprises?”

“Usually,”

“Then I’m adding a new rule,” Harry bargains. “The girlfriend can not ask the boyfriend to disclose the location of a date if they’re already in the car,”

“That’s not fair, I was already in the car when the rule was made!”

“Too bad.”

Alani pinches his cheek and slinks back into her own seat. She tells him about the bride and the groom, what she knows, at least, and about the decision to have their guests RSVP with a song of their choice to play at the reception. 

“D’you know what you’re gonna pick?” Harry asks. 

“Yeah,” Alani nods. “I Wanna Dance with Somebody by Whitney Houston, obviously,”

“Obviously,” he agrees. 

“You?”

“Dunno, yet. Have to narrow it down,”

Alani admires the heart-shaped glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Well you better make it good, cause Mila knows that you’re a musician and she’s expecting you to balance out her friends’ shitty music taste,”

“You were talkin’ about me?” he teases. 

“Well, yeah, how else do you think you got invited?”

“You have such a crush on me, s’cute,”

Alani playfully pokes his cheek. “We’re literally dating, dummy,”

“Don’t get defensive,” Harry jokes. “Cause I’ve got a crush on you too.”

“God, we’re so annoying.”

Harry grins and presses a kiss to her temple. They pull into the Port of Hilo and he magically produces a picnic basket from the backseat, a bottle of Moët et Chandon rosé peeking out. Alani slips her fingers between his and follows as he leads them to a sizable speed boat anchored and waiting for them. 

“The Carolina,” Alani reads, admiring the golden cursive on the side. 

“Like someone else I know,” Harry winks. 

He escorts her onto the vessel and she waits to see when the captain will join them, but confusion washes over her when she sees Harry poking around with the equipment. 

“What are you doing?”

“As much fun as it would be to eat at the dock,” he begins. “I think it would be more fun to take ole Carolina for a spin,”

“You mean you’re gonna drive this thing?” Alani questions, though she doesn’t know why she’s surprised by him anymore. 

“Pilot,” Harry corrects. “But yes,”

Alani blinks and tries to wrap her head around the idea of Harry piloting a boat. “And you’re allowed to do that?”

“Sure.”

“Wow,” she marvels to herself with an incredulous laugh. “I’m dating a sailor.”

Harry flashes Alani a wink over his shoulder and before she knows it, they’re heading away from the dock. She carefully stands from the lounging area at the back and sneaks over to Harry, arms wrapping around his torso with her chin propped on his shoulder. He steers with one hand and extends the other, recreating the iconic Titanic boat scene. 

“I’m flying, Jack!” he calls over his shoulder and Alani giggles, responding with her best improvised rendition of My Heart Will Go On. 

They sail out for a bit longer before Harry stops the boat and turns to her. “Ta da!”

“By jove, he’s done it!” Alani praises. 

Harry takes a bow and reaches over for the picnic basket, pulling out the rosé and two champagne flutes. He hands them to Alani and spreads their meal on the lounging area at the back: vegetable stir fry and noodles with chocolate covered strawberries for desert. 

“You did all this?” Alani muses. 

He takes each flute from her hand and fills them halfway. “It’s a special occasion,” 

“I feel like an asshole for not knowing what it is,”

“Don’t,” Harry chuckles, handing her the wine. “I mean it’s not really like—I just realized it,”

“What is it?”

Harry raises his glass and clears his throat. “Exactly three months ago, I got off a plane and I stumbled into a little café where the most beautiful and funny and smart waitress served me about twenty glasses of water until I nearly pissed my pants in front of her,”

Alani giggles at the memory, disbelief settling in when she considers how fast the time had flown. 

“And despite all of the embarrassing and idiotic things I’ve done since,” he continues. “She agreed to be my girlfriend, for reasons I have yet to understand. So today I celebrate her, and us, and all of lucky stars that brought our paths together,”

They clink their glasses together and Alani presses a cool kiss to his lips. “Cheers, baby,”

“There’s one more thing,” Harry says, holding a finger up. 

Alani scoffs. “It’s like fucking Pandora’s box in there!”

He pulls out a velvet box and her heart stops. 

“Wait, what are you—”

“It’s not what you think,” he explains quickly. “Sorry, maybe should’ve thought this through better,”

Harry opens the lid and lifts a gold chain with a crescent moon pendant and a smaller sun in the center. 

“Saw it in a shop this morning,” he says softly. “Seemed like fate, so I got it,”

“Harry,” Alani breathes, eyes already glossy. 

“D’you like it?”

“I love it! It’s beautiful,” she says, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “Thank you so much.”

He fastens the necklace for her and she admires it with gentle fingers. The sun and the moon, a piece of them cast in gold and resting against her beating heart forever. 

********

Friday 

“Wow,” Harry gawks, his eyes raking in Alani’s appearance. A baby pink tulle dress falls just above her knee with puffy sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, all cinched at the waist with a small bow. Tiny velvet hearts are speckled all over the dress, in true Alani fashion, and a pair of sparkling, pink heels accentuate her toned calves. 

“Wow yourself,” she counters, drinking in the peek of exposed skin behind his cream colored blazer. The blue dress shirt underneath is unbuttoned just above the butterfly on his stomach and a cross is nestled in the valley between his pecs. He holds out a bouquet of sunflowers between his ringed fingers and Alani accepts them gratefully, moving to the side so he can step into the house. 

“These are gorgeous, thank you,” she says, lifting them to her nose. 

“Welcome,” he smiles softly, swiping the pad of his thumb against her chin. “You are gorgeous,”

Alani presses her rose tinted lips to his carefully and pulls back to admire him again. “And you are so good looking it actually makes me mad.”

Harry laughs and pulls her closer for another sweet kiss before he hears the clearing of another person’s throat. 

“Have her back by midnight,” Pua teases with her arms crossed. “Or I’ll hunt you down.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry salutes before bending down to address Freddie. 

Alani passes the sunflowers to her sister with a kiss to her cheek before hooking an arm under Harry’s and heading out. They hop into the convertible and the sun catches the golden pendant around her neck, bringing a soft smile to his face. 

“Hope those are your dancin’ shoes,” Harry remarks. “Cause we’re goin’ full Dirty Dancing tonight,”

“Lift and all?” 

“Lift and all,”

She runs her fingers over the silver rose on his ring finger.  “You know, I think we’re finally gonna nail it this time.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry agrees. “They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

When they arrive at Honu, the other guests are shuffling from the parking lot and onto the private beach where the reception will take place. Alani plucks a card from her bag to drop into the box at the entrance while Harry pulls a medium sized box from behind his seat. 

“You got a real gift?” Alani questions, a light laugh erupting. “We don’t even know these people,”

Harry tucks the gift under his arm and shrugs. “I put your name on it too, don’t worry,”

“Well now they’ll have a giftcard to Ikea and whatever’s in your mystery box.”

“It’s also a giftcard to Ikea, but wrapped in a big box.”

Alani nudges his shoulder playfully and scans the groups mingling and flocking to the mini bar. She waves to a member of her dad’s kitchen staff attending to the hors d’oeuvres before they are greeted by the manager of the guest list. 

“Alani and Harry,” she says to the tall woman behind the podium. 

“Ah yes,” the woman responds. “The Lovebirds table, number 9.”

“Guess Mila wasn’t joking about that.” Alani chuckles lightly, taking both of their name cards. 

Harry locates their table and to his surprise, no one else is present yet, but he pulls Alani’s chair out for her and pushes it back in once she’s seated. 

“Champagne?” he asks, nodding to the bar. 

“Oui, s'il vous plaît." 

He plants a kiss to the top of her head and makes his way to collect their drinks. Alani’s eyes follow the stringed lights overhead and she quickly realizes that they lead to a disco ball hanging above the center of the dance floor. Well done, Mila. She thinks to herself with an approving nod. The colors, she gathers, are lilac and periwinkle, incorporated into all of the floral arrangements and cloth details. They match the color of the sky above and Alani knows that the bride must be ecstatic over this detail. Harry returns with their drinks and sets them down gently onto the white tablecloth. 

“None of our fellow lovebirds have arrived yet, huh?” he muses, taking a sip of his champagne. 

Alani shakes her head and brings the glass to her lips. “Must be too busy making out in the parking lot,”

“You told me we didn’t have time for that.”

“I’m not gonna ruin my lipstick before we’ve even arrived.”

Harry shakes his fist to the sky and Alani giggles. They both admire the view and the children in the wedding party who are testing how close they can get to the water before an adult drags them away. The sky turns to a shade of cotton candy above them and someone announces that the bride and groom are arriving. Harry and Alani stand and welcome the newly weds with applause and whistles. Mila and Chad share a sweet kiss and the crowd goes wild. One man, most likely a friend of the groom, shouts “I love you Chad!” and laughter erupts. They take their seats and the rest of the wedding party follows suit, which means that the rest of the guests are free to return to their chatting and socializing. 

“I’m beginning to think we were put in the time out table.” Harry jokes when they are still not joined by any other guests. 

A light laugh escapes Alani’s lips and she looks around. “Yeah I guess so.”

The servers arrive with their meal and the pair eat happily, exchanging witty banter and observations of the scene around them. Harry sucks a piece of linguine between his lips and turns to Alani with a mischievous smirk. 

“No,” Alani says, already knowing what he’s up to. 

“Don’t leave me hangin’,”

 “Eat your food.”

“Alaniii,”

She shakes her head gently and rolls her eyes, but decides to indulge him anyway. Their lips meet in the middle of the shared noodle and Harry smiles. 

“Always wanted to try that.” 

A few moments later, he notices a card in the middle of the table and lifts it. 

“‘Trivia,’” he reads. “‘Test your knowledge of the bride and groom and win a prize.’ Let’s play, shall we?”

“What’s the first question?” Alani asks, peering over to read the small font. 

“‘What year did Mila and Chad meet?” 

Alani hums, thinking back to her previous conversation with the bride. “They met in law school, that’s all I know,”

“2009,” Harry guesses. “Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

“Definitely Chad,” she replies firmly. “Mila didn’t think she’d ever get married,”

“I thought you said you didn’t know these people,”

“I guess I was wrong,”

Harry squints at the next one. “What are their zodiac signs?”

“I wanna say Virgo for Mila,” Alani suggests. “Maybe… Aquarius for Chad?”

“That’s my sign,” Harry comments, writing down her guesses. 

Alani’s brows raise. “No kidding. Makes a lot of sense,”

“What’s yours?”

“Taurus,”

“I don’t know anythin’ about astrology. Are we compatible?”

“Probably not,” Alani teases. 

Harry shoots her a disapproving look and reads the next question. “Where did they go on their first date?”

“The movies,” she predicts. “Safe bet,”

“‘Akaka Falls,” Harry writes. “That was ours,”

Alani’s head tilts. “We weren’t even dating then,”

“Yeah but I was tryin’ to win you over, so it counts,”

“Sneaky.”

“Who is the bride’s celebrity crush?” Harry continues. “Hopefully not James Marsden or this guy’s fucked.”

Alani laughs and she pulls him in for a playful kiss to his cheek. The pink sunset dims into a deep navy and the stringed lights twinkle above, setting the whole scene in a romantic, golden glow. Guests walk past their table holding strips of photo booth pictures and Harry’s neck cranes to search for the source. His eyes land on a small line at the other end of the beach and he stands quickly. 

“Let’s go,”

“Where?”

“Photo booth!”

To Alani’s surprise it’s an actual booth, curtains and all, and not just some poor sucker tasked with operating a polaroid camera the whole night. They stand in line eagerly behind two groomsmen and brainstorm poses. Once they’re inside, Alani settles onto Harry’s knee and watches as he operates the machine. The screen counts down from ten and they decide to flash a proper smile for the first one. After it’s snapped, Harry sticks his tongue out and Alani widens her eyes in mock surprise. The third one is a candid, slightly blurry one of them laughing after she accidentally poked him in the eye. A lipstick kiss is stamped to Harry’s cheek in the fourth one, but the pair innocently look away in opposite directions. The fifth and final image captures their affection mid kiss. They swipe the two sets of photos and Alani awes, admiring the black and white film strip. Before they make it back to their table, Alani feels a hand on her arm. 

“Alani!” Mila beams. 

“Hi!” Alani greets, pulling the bride into a hug. “You look gorgeous,”

“I’m so glad you came! I love your dress,”

Mila turns her attention towards Harry and gives him a warm embrace, too. “You must be Harry! So nice to meet you,”

“Thank you for having us!” he says over the music. 

“I see you guys put the photo booth to good use,” Mila comments. “Now go dance! There’s an ipad next to the stage, just queue up your songs.”

Alani and Harry bid the bride farewell, but before they leave, Mila leans into Alani’s ear and whispers “he’s a hottie!” with a wink. They set their photos down inside Alani’s purse and Harry leads her towards the dance floor. She punches in her request and he secretly types the song that’s been stuck in his head all week. Fantasy by Mariah Carey is already playing when they reach the floor, so they join in excitedly. Alani’s hips sway and Harry’s head bobs, both of them mouthing the lyrics. The song fades and Alani’s pick begins, which makes the crowd roar. 

“The people have spoken and they love Whitney!” she cheers. 

Harry twirls her and shuffles his feet. Alani shimmies and sings along, the lyrics falling from her lips like a prayer. 

I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the heat with somebody 

Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody 

With somebody who loves me 

The dance floor is flooded with bodies jumping and swaying, and the disco ball shimmers above the euphoric scene. Alani and Harry spin, making their way through the crowd and letting the music sweep over them like a magical spell. Beads of sweat form at the back of her neck and she lifts her wavy locks to let the ocean breeze cool her down, but her feet don’t stop moving. Eventually, her song peters out and a familiar guitar fills its place. 

“I love this song!” Alani cries, immediately recognizing The Cure. 

Harry pulls her closer, despite the warmth radiating from both of their bodies, and presses a passionate kiss to her lips. They are surrounded on every side, but in this very moment under the full moon and shimmering disco ball, Harry and Alani feel like the only two people alive. Their foreheads meet and they sway gently, his hands secure at her waist while her fingers toy with the hair at the base of his neck. 

It’s Friday, I’m in love. 

[irwintry]

Jean Jacket

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, drug mention

Summary: Y/N and Luke have been best friends, but they haven’t seen each other in years. Based loosely off of the song “Jean Jacket” by The Summer Set.

Word Count: 9.5k

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

You messaged him at 10:14 in the morning. It felt unnatural, and a knot formed in your stomach once you hit send.

You:

hey.

string bean

He didn’t reply until 6:24 that night.

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Don’t call me that.

I’m toned now.

You:

oh my bad

what’s a thicc vegetable

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I don’t know

You:

you have cool hair

so do asparagus’

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Don’t call me asparagus.

You:

sorry

sexy stalk of corn

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I hate you

You:

i love u squid

should i learn how to use photoshop

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Absolutely not

I don’t want to be photoshopped onto corn

What do you want?

You:

oh sorry am i bothering u

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Yes

You:

:o

rude

string bean

Message not delivered.

why aren’t my messages sending

did u block me

wtf asshole

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Hehe

You:

i'm gonna kick ur ass

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Good luck reaching it.

You:

ok getting on a plane rn

and jokes on u

i'm bringing a step ladder w me

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I’ll pay

You:

bet?

did u just fucking venmo me

squid????

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Maybe

You:

luke

do u want me to visit u

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I just venmo’d you

You:

wait do u rly want me to visit u

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Yeah.

You:

wait ok shit... when works best for u

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Literally whenever

You:

don’t u have tours and shit

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Not for five months

You:

oh fuck.

ok I’ll start looking

shit dude

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I miss you.

You:

i miss u 2 squid

sorry i mean

string bean

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

JK. Can you venmo me back?

You:

no fuck u

it’s mine now

-

You weren’t in airports often.

You never grew accustomed to the atmosphere–– the hustle and bustle of business class and the lack of knives in terminal restaurants. You had no reason to be acquainted. Yet, there was still a familiar panic that gripped you as you stood shoeless and alone in the line for security. The terminals were each a maze of their own, and the heavy Jansport hanging off of your shoulder pushed down against your tight muscles.

You preferred traveling with another person. In fact, you preferred to not travel at all. The comfort of your home held Jeopardy re-runs and take-out Chinese. Whereas your terminal had startling gate announcements and overpriced froyo, and they didn’t even have toppings. The bathrooms smelled of poo no matter what time you chose to use them, and you sat on the toilet in mild discomfort, suitcase meshed between you in the broken metal stall. The same abandoned luggage announcement had played sixteen times since your arrival through security.

But you tried to think about the positive outcome of your travel. You saw yourself running up to him, hands slipping the bulky luggage to the ground as you threw your arms around him. He stood there smiling and calling you old nicknames you had been forced to read over text for six to seven years. And then he would take your hand and guide you to his car, his ever-present smile never faltering because you were there, and he was with you. It would be just like old times.

You thought about all of the places you would go and the people you would meet. Anxiety puddled your head when you thought about meeting his friends. They were untouchable, glamor and gold and all things Hollywood untold. And you were you, but Luke had changed, too.

-

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Still arriving at 6:13 in Terminal B?

You:

u bet ur (terminal B)um

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

That was one of your worst.

You:

ur right i gotta work on my comebacks on the flight

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

That wasn’t a comeback...?

You:

tHat WasN’t a CoMebAcK

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Die.

-

You fell asleep on the flight.

Economy class forced you between a professor in his mid-forties and an athletic coach whose knees nudged against yours every time he shifted. You had started the flight off with a movie, some Anna Kendrick rom-com that stimulated a headache worth three bottles of Ibuprofen. Soon enough you were hobbling over long legs, bladder aching from an unbearable pressure, and then the lavatory was occupied.

You filled the next few hours with a playlist you had made for the flight. Luke’s songs lulled you to sleep–– but you wouldn’t tell him that. You wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction, not unless the moment called for it. That moment only occurred a few times within a year. That moment occurred during the times he came to you when he thought he had no one else.

And you would never tell him how selfish you felt. You would never admit that you loved those moments because you felt important. You felt like he needed you.

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep for after you woke. The plane was dark and quiet, and not a soul breathed a word. So, you settled down into your seat and kept the light of your phone low. The time was 5:35 in the morning.

The airplane awakened a little after six o’clock, brightness flooding in followed by a chorus of groans and moans. You toyed with the sleeves of your jacket and felt incredibly small. The nerves in your chest simmered, and you thought about the shaky steps you would soon take to reach the arms of an old friend. You didn’t know why the blistering excitement felt so bad. You wanted to sit back down and take a one-way flight all the way back home.

-

Luke was in airports all too often.

He grew accustomed to suitcases rattling against filthy marble floors. He memorized the high-pitched, buzzy tone of squeaking escalators in frequented terminals. The familiarity overwhelmed him, and he had almost convinced himself he was among the many travelers on this day.

But he stood alone, not a single ounce of hurry in his bones while he waited for the arrival of an old best friend. The rising sun outside seeped through the large glass windows, yet the warm colors touched his back and kept his chest cold. He wanted your embrace, and he wanted the heat of your smile. Because he didn’t quite remember how it made him feel. He saw your face through pictures and videos, but the comfort of your presence faded from his memories.

Strangers eyed him. He could picture them searching the depths of their brain and wondering why they knew him. At the moment, he wished he wasn’t known. He wished he was seventeen again, the year the excitement was fresh and when the world didn’t seem so small. He wished he still knew you like he had back then.

Luke was tired.

-

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

i need some fucking food

He felt nauseous and numb as he laughed at your words. It was like stage fright, like the intense, sickening nerves had hadn’t felt in years. His fingers trembled against the screen of his phone.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

also where r u

can u meet at baggage claim

i get nervous when i have to pick up my bag

i get scared that i’m gonna miss it

is that weird

Luke’s stomach knotted, and he typed out a quick affirmation while he kept his eyes locked on the small crowd of faces. Faces that looked like they hadn’t slept in forty years. But then again, Luke felt as though he looked the same way.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

what happens if i miss my bag

Luke:

It comes back around.

Don’t worry

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

fffuckkkkkk customs

Luke:

Lol.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

escalators escalators escalators

Luke:

Eels.

-

Luke swallowed the bile rising to his throat. It had been years. He hadn’t seen you face-to-face in years, and he still wondered what it was about the moment that made him nervous. The anxiety caused him to shiver, and he tugged the sleeves of his sweater up and under his fingers. His eyes ached from lack of sleep, but he hoped your energy would change that. He hoped his nerves would ease the minute you opened your mouth. All he wanted was for it to feel natural.

He thought he saw you. He thought he had immediately recognized you from across the room, but the stranger was in a dress. Luke knew you would never––in your right mind––wear a dress to travel anywhere. So, he kept his eyes on the person as they walked away, and then there was a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey Squid.”

Luke glanced to his right, heart stammering in his chest at the sound of your voice. You were smiling, your eyes tired yet warm while the jean jacket you wore swallowed you whole. His jean jacket.

“You busy later?”

He cleared his throat and reached up to brush a few hairs away from his face. He didn’t know how to speak or initiate any kind of touch. He didn’t know how to talk to you anymore. “Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled with a small smile. “Got plans.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “You do?”

Luke hummed. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking. “Meeting up with this old friend,” he said. “They flew all this way t’see me, and to be honest, that was kinda dumb of them.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you replied with a laugh. “We gonna hug or just like, stand here looking like assholes?”

“The latter,” he said, and you rolled your eyes. Luke laughed as he allowed himself to push down nerves and throw his arms around you. It was a warm hug, just like he wanted it to be. “I see you still got that fuckin’ jacket.”

“Technically, it’s your jacket,” you said, pulling away. Your hair was messy, but he found it endearing. You looked like his best friend even though the years had separated the two of you. You looked soft and sweet, and he didn’t know why he wanted to keep holding you.

You nodded to yourself. “Got my suitcase,” you told him. “No thanks to you. In case you didn’t know, this isn’t baggage claim.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “’m sorry. I’m tired.”

“Oh, sorry to bother you,” you replied, smiling brightly before sending him a wink. “I’ll be going then.” You took a few steps toward the door.

Luke caught your arm. “No, no, you’re not leaving me. We’ve come this far. You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh, joy.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm, babe,” he said, and two of you made your way outside into the cool morning.

You stumbled behind him, your suitcase smacking against large chunks of concrete on the sidewalk. “Babe? Shit. I just shuttered.”

Luke chuckled. His nerves hadn’t disappeared, but he tried hard to ignore them. He felt out of place. He felt as though his head and his body did not exist on the same plane. He felt like he was caught in a dream. Or maybe it was a nightmare.

“Hey, Lu?” You yawned and curled yourself up in the passenger seat of his car.

Luke thought you looked too damn good. He wanted to tell you. “If you put your feet on my dash, I’ll kill you,” he said instead.

You mumbled something incoherent.

Luke slid his keys into the ignition. “Okay, well, that was not English,” he said, “but nice try.”

“Shut up. I’m tired.”

“I’m tired,” he mocked.

You hit his arm, and his laughter filled the small car. “I’ll kill you first. I was gonna ask you if we can get breakfast, but I changed my mind.”

Luke kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, but he ached to look over at you. He ached to take you in and memorize you like he had done over seven years ago. “We can get breakfast, babe,” he said quietly, glancing your way, and then he smiled. Your knees were pressed to your chest, and you had closed your eyes.

At the stop sign, Luke waited a moment to accelerate. The sunrise painted gold into the sky and onto your skin. He wondered if you had always looked this beautiful. He wondered if he had ever thought so before. All he could remember was the present, and every memory was drowned out by the soft scent of your perfume in his car.

The jean jacket you wore had been his once. He never saw how it looked on you. And he never imagined that the sight of you in it would one day take his breath away.

-

“Do you think I should leave it unbuttoned like this?”

“You’re really asking for my opinion on that?”

“Yes.”

You narrowed your gaze.

“Okay, you’re right,” he said, “unbuttoned it is.”

You rolled your eyes. “Love that my opinion is so valued.”

It had only been a day. Your body clock had yet to reset to the time difference, and you spent the afternoon prior knocked out on Luke’s bed with Petunia cuddled against your stomach. It hadn’t been a terrible way to nap, although your neck ached when you woke. The situation was still surreal. You still refused to believe you had traveled across the globe to visit someone you felt like you hardly knew. Except you did know him. He was Luke. He ate his gummy worms with peanut butter.

Yet, your eyes lingered on his figure on your way into his kitchen. You gazed a little too long when he talked about his plans with you. Whenever he nudged your shoulder or poked your arm, you thought about his touch for a few minutes after. It had only been a day.

And it didn’t take long for him to invite you out to a club.

You didn’t like the feeling of the leather seats against your thighs on the drive into the city. Your shorts had ridden up, and you had the sense that something about the night was off. It wasn’t the intoxicating fragrance of Luke’s cologne or the exposed bit of chest that drove you wild. It wasn’t the unbroken melody he sang loudly or the expensive boots that added an inch or two to his already-towering height. It was how expensive he looked–– how untouchable he was. You had thrift your jean shorts for $15, and Luke was missing a button off of his designer shirt. But there was something else about the night that bothered you, and you couldn’t quite place it. So, you belted along to his favorite songs and pretended as though you didn’t feel sick to your stomach.

Luke’s smile hardly faltered throughout the night. He introduced you to faces you assumed you would never see again, and then he would buy you another drink without asking. You could feel his energy, and not even the blasting bass could distract you from the weight of his laughter. He knew everyone, but it didn’t come as a shock. He had always loved people, and people had always loved him.

So, you sat quietly on the couch, feeling miles apart yet inches away at best. You twirled the tiny straw with two fingers and watched your old best friend bounce from person to person. He had a big heart, you told yourself, he loved people. But the thoughts never pushed down the sinking feeling that he had forgotten about you. It was halfway through the night, and you had been sitting alone for forty-seven minutes. Luke was nowhere to be seen.

You:

luke

You placed your phone in between your thighs. One single text had sent your heart into your throat, and you weren’t sure why. You weren’t sure why you felt so sick at the thought of his response.

You:

r u ok

where’d u go

A few strangers crowded around the couch Luke placed you at. It was his usual spot, he said. No one ever took his spot. But you sat alone, and not a soul cared to join you. They knew you didn’t belong here.

You:

string bean

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I’m okay.

:-)

You sighed, letting your head rest against the leather cushion while you watched drunken interactions play out. A song you recognized played throughout the cramped club, and you wished you were anywhere else. You wished you were on a bench overlooking the ocean with a bag of tacos separating you and your friend. You wished you were on the bike path by your house, hand-in-hand with someone you had known all too well. You wished you hadn’t fallen witness to a life you had no part in. You wished you could be the person he wanted you to be.

You:

ok i’m just chillin

The empty glass from your drink had perspired onto the table. After a while, the heat of the room had melted the ice as well, and you were stuck wishing you could conjure up the courage to join the crowd. But you couldn’t. You felt out of place, like you didn’t quite belong. All eyes told you so. You carried on waiting, but you were no longer sure what it was you were waiting for.

You:

r u getting hungry

You stopped waiting for a response after fifteen minutes. Luke had left you for two hours in a club, in some town you had never been to before. He had left you, and you had only been with him for a day. An unsettling feeling grew in your stomach, but you wanted to reject it as much as you could. It was Luke, the boy who shot carrots out of his Nerf Guns but ended up giving himself a black eye. It had to be the same Luke.

You gathered up some strength to stand up. The battery on your phone had been roasted from too many games of Solitaire, and Luke still wasn’t answering your texts. You reached down for your sweating drink, but a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your shoulders before you could.

“Sleepy,” he said, smushing his face against your back. “Why do you smell like pancakes?”

Your body felt frozen beneath his touch. Every muscle tensed. “I don’t,” you replied. “Can we–– can we go? Is that okay?”

Luke’s arms slid off of you, and you could feel his presence now to the right of you. And for some reason, your head hurt at the thought of looking at him. Yet, you did. His curls had slicked down against his rosy, albeit shiny skin, and his eyes were red and droopy. For those few seconds, you weren’t sure why you had thought him attractive. But it quickly changed. He was looking at you, completely looking at you, and he could tell something was wrong.

“Yeah,” he said, his lips falling into a frown. “Course. You okay?”

You nodded and swallowed back the aching tears that threatened in your eyes. “Jet-lagged,” you mumbled. “That’s all.”

Luke nodded, too. “Okay. Yeah. We can go. I’ll get us an Uber.”

“What will you do about your car?”

He seemed to shrug it off, but it was hard to tell through the mass of sweaty bodies. “She’ll be fine. I’ll find a way to get her.”

“I’m sorry.” You hugged your arms close to your chest as the heat from the club transformed into the cool night air.

“No big deal,” said Luke. “Just another Uber trip to come get her. Then I can take her right back.”

“No, um, about leaving,” you responded. “I’m sorry that I wanted t’leave.”

Luke glanced at you from over his shoulder, brows furrowed and lip tugged between his teeth. “Don’t be, babe. I was gonna leave soon anyway.”

You nodded, and an uneasy silence settled in the air. You wished for the right words to say, but you brain went blank, and you found yourself counting cars that passed by.

“It’s really good to see you again,” said Luke after a while. His voice was low and hoarse, and it made you feel a new type of warmth. “Forgot what it was like t’be with you. It’s nice. Like a breath of fresh air.”

You smiled at him, but you knew that was all you could do.

“Missed you a lot.” He smiled at you, too, and through that smile, he whispered, “I’m just really happy you’re here.”

-

Luke thought it hurt to look at you. Because when he did, he was reminded of the person he had left behind, the person he could have been had he stayed. You reminded him of a lost potential within himself, and he didn’t like it. It made him feel dejected, like a lost cause. And looking at you caused much more pain than that. Looking at you was like looking at the world in color for the first time. He saw you differently, and he wondered if this was how he was always supposed to see you.

It was unavoidable— the dawning feeling that only worsened every day. You had only been with him for a week. A whole week of stealing glances and swallowing down irritant thoughts that a best friend shouldn’t have. A part of him felt like he couldn’t call himself that. He felt like he knew you, but he didn’t know you. He read your personality through words and not actions. Maybe it was time he opened his eyes to the person you had become.

-

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

can u not send me tweets rn

u r literally right next to me

loser

Luke:

Can you not be rude?

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

no

Luke:

Fight me.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

hehe ok

kinky

Luke:

Shut up

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

i feel the sexual tension already

-

Luke took a breath and glanced your way. The afternoon had been spent with his friends; a brimming beer cup soirée spent around the fire in Calum’s backyard. And for some reason, Luke felt like an anomaly. He had better luck counting the hairs on his leg than concentrating on a single conversation. Meanwhile, you cradled your first drink of the night, torso hidden behind the heavy jean jacket he once owned. Beneath it, only a floral bathing suit covered you, and it was enough to make Luke wonder why he had bothered leaving home in the first place.

He couldn’t hear what his friends said, but he could focus in on every little thing about you. From the shape of your legs, all tucked in beneath you to the small smile you wore as you listened to his friends speak. Your hair had dried from the few minutes you spent in the pool, and after a while, you pulled it out of your face and up into a bun. Luke thought you looked pretty, and he knew it wasn’t the initial heat of the fire that warmed him.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was wrong. You were quiet––timid almost––while you gazed at the palm shadows against the sunset. Even beyond the smiles, you seemed lost. Luke wanted to know why.

-

Luke:

You hungry?

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

fucking starving

tell cal to get better snacks

Luke:

Lol.

I want tacos

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

yoooooooooooooo

can we get tacos?

Luke:

Let’s get some fucking tacos

-

You hadn’t realized how hard it would be.

Luke started a new life for himself seven years prior, and it messed up your world for a while. It had messed up plans and memories you wanted to make with him. You started your own life without the company of your best friend, but he was still a text message away whenever you needed. Because he was still your friend. He still told you every little detail about his life. You knew how things had changed for him, whether they were for better or worse.

You hadn’t realized you would one day face the life he chose for himself. You hadn’t realized how hard it would be. He was the same, but he was so different. Being here simply acted as a reminder that you no longer fit into his life.

It came to you in heavy waves. When the overall reality hit, it hit like a sheet of sadness. You were washed over by emotions while Luke carried on about his favorite restaurant in Italy. You had never been to Italy or France or Spain. You had never been on grandiose adventures, not like Luke. It only hurt because you wished you had been by his side.

The two of you swung by his place for a change of clothes. There was an unexplainable silence that you chose not to break. You felt as though any word from your lips would feel forced, so you kept quiet instead. When you walked back out into the living room in an old tee and leggings, Luke was already there. He was already waiting for you in the patchy jean jacket that you treasured simply because it once belonged to him.

“Still fits, I guess,” he said, and you smiled. It was like old times, so you took a picture of the moment. Luke shot a goofy grin your way, and you had to pretend like it didn’t make your stomach flutter.

“Are there are any taco places you know of that are still open?” you asked Luke after settling into the car. You kept your hands pressed between your thighs. “I’m not really feeling like shitting my pants at a Taco Bell.”

Luke laughed. “Yeah, I know a place.” He turned on the ignition, and right off the bat, a song by The Summer Set began to blast through the speakers. And it felt like a tension had been swept away with the music.

He kept the windows down as you drove, his one hand firm on the wheel and the other out against the breeze. When he sang, he sang low. You couldn’t find it in yourself to sing at all. You could hardly look at him. Yet, you had given into temptation. You gazed at him during the verses and glanced away at the choruses, letting the city lights seep in while you listened to his soft voice. Luke drummed on the wheel during the upbeat melodies, and you found yourself reminiscing on old memories no matter how much you wanted to repress them.

He had always been an awkward kid. The heart on his sleeve never faded or splintered–– it just grew with each passing day. His presence made any form of discomfort wash away, and it still felt that way now. But, as people do, he had changed, and you struggled to find the good in everything. Around you, it was the same Luke you knew. Around others, he had built up a façade for himself. It broke your heart.

Street lamps glistened against the pavement as rain drizzled down. It didn’t last long, and the droplets on the windshield soon dried, but it left an earthy petrichor in the air. A comforting scent that only came with rain. The breeze slipped through your fingers, and you soon felt the words of familiar songs bubble in your chest. They left your lips a second later just as you began to smile. There was something oddly beautiful about the melancholy moment.

So, Luke sang loudly, his hands hitting the wheel while you cried your favorite lyrics. It all came rushing back, and the sorrow melted away. You wished Luke had never left, but you were happy to have this night with him.

-

You unwrapped your taco on your lap. “I’m not gonna tell you you’re wrong for putting that much sour cream on your taco,” you said, kicking your feet out on the stone wall before you, “but you disgust me.”

The waves crashed along the shoreline in the distance, and the beach was dark and eerie. It didn’t matter that it was ten o’clock at night–– the nearby park was busy and loud.

“Oh, I forgot to ask,” said Luke, “is it okay if I put sour cream on my taco?”

You kicked his thigh as he broke out in hysterics, and you thought, this is it–– this is what I’ve been waiting for.

“If you get that shit on my jacket, I’ll kill you,” you responded, meanwhile taking an unattractive bite out of the hard shell of your taco. Shredded cheese fell to the ground below.

“Isn’t it technically my jacket?”

You shrugged “Maybe if you had actually bothered keeping it.”

Luke let out a small gasp, and a large dollop of sour cream plopped against the wrapping on his lap. “Maybe if you were smart enough, you’d realize I let you keep it.”

“Oh, shit. That stings.”

“Good.”

“Fuck you,” you said with a laugh. “I deserved to keep it. I was the one who added all of those patches anyway.”

Luke furrowed his brows. “Not true. I added––“ He twisted around and pointed at a small bunny patch on the shoulder. “––this one.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your tongue. “You deserve more credit for the tiny bunny patch you found on the side of the road.”

“Thank you.” Luke sighed and grinned, sending a wink your way before biting into his sour cream-coated taco.

You watched the hard-shell crack and fall apart beneath his grip, and you watched as he pouted once the food hit his lap. You stared for too long, burning the image of him in your brain until you were confident it was permanently in there. It burned a little too hot and for a little too long. It continued to burn along the highway while the waves stirred beside you. You were nestled between the hills and the ocean, a cute boy to your left and a strip of heaven laid down before you.

Luke drove for an hour, taking exit after exit until he pulled off near the mouth of a lake in the mountains. The air was stale yet breezy, and exhaustion overwhelmed you. But you kept your eyes from drooping just so you could keep looking at the person you hadn’t realized you missed.

“Come home soon,” you whispered into the dark night. Bugs and other creatures hummed in the distance, meanwhile, you kicked up the crumbled pavement and leaned back against his car. “It hasn’t been home without you.”

Luke let out a quiet laugh, but it was muffled between his lips. “Gonna get all sappy on me now, huh, babe?” he asked, but his smile soon fell when his head turned to face you. He swallowed and faced the stagnant water ahead. “I wanna come home,” he said, “but I feel like I don’t belong there anymore.”

“You’ve always belonged.”

Luke didn’t speak.

“I don’t belong here,” you said, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You had expected an outrageous reaction, something that assured you that he thought you did belong. But he stayed quiet. “This whole city, this place, it’s–– I mean it’s wonderful. I love it. But it’s not me.”

“It’s weird to have you here,” said Luke. His voice had lowered into a faint hush, yet you felt it in your bones. “Not bad weird. You’re just home. You feel like home. I’m not used to that here.”

“You’re home,” you mumbled.

Luke didn’t waste another moment. He pulled you into a hug, one that reminded you of teenage years and restless late nights. It reminded you of a warmth you lost, of strong arms that hadn’t held you in seven years. His chest expanded with each breath, and you listened closely to the air as it left his lips. And then you couldn’t help but dig your fingers into the rough denim along his back. You couldn’t help but press yourself against his chest in order to feel his heartbeat in sync with yours. You ached to embrace his scent–– you ached to embrace everything about him.

There was something in the air as you pulled away, something thicker than the hint of humidity. Whatever it was, you had trouble letting go of Luke. It felt like you had stood there for ages, just staring at his chest and holding onto his waist as if your life depended on it. You felt like crying, and you felt nervous. Something about his presence made you nervous.

When you looked up, Luke had already been looking down at you. A small smile was playing on his lips, and you could hardly see the twinkle in his eye through the dark night. But you weren’t focusing on his eyes. You focused in on that smile, the one that stretched his smooth, pink lips just slightly. The one that kindled some spark in your chest, and you couldn’t look away.

Luke placed a hand on your jaw, his long, slim fingers cradling you in a soft manner. “You okay?” he asked breathily.

You replayed his words in your head and thought about the ways his lips moved around them. No, you weren’t okay. But you didn’t mind the feeling.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. At the same time, it felt like you couldn’t breathe. The desire to kiss him was overwhelming, and it ached and ached. You tightened your grip on his waist, eyes flickering back up to where his lips had pulled into a concerned pout.

Luke let out a breath and tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. His fingers were firm on the back of your head, and then he pulled you in. His lips were on yours, hard yet passion-filled, and neither of you could move. But when he ran out of air, Luke pulled away slowly. His top lip brushed yours as he moved, yet the pressure never left. It still felt like he was kissing you.

Luke had kissed you. And you hadn’t wanted him to stop.

You smiled, fingers toying with the opening of his jean jacket as you glanced down at your shoes. “That was new,” you said lowly.

He laughed, meanwhile running his thumb along the apple of your cheek. It made you feel safe. “Sure was,” he mumbled. “Not bad, though.”

“No,” you replied, looking up. His gaze was intense, but it was the kind of intensity that summoned butterflies. You shrugged. “Not bad at all.”

“Good,” said Luke. “Cos I was plannin’ on kissing you again, but I wasn’t sure if we were on the same page, or––“

You tugged him in and leaned forward to press your lips on his again. You felt him smile against the kiss, and you had to smile, too. Luke’s opposite hand met your other cheek as the kiss deepened. You didn’t mind it–– you had no reason to mind it. In fact, you loved it. You craved it. It was warm and soft, and it made your toes curl. His lips felt like velvet. The heat crawled up into your chest, but the kiss soon ended before the moment carried on.

You felt lighter than air. Small puffs of air escaped your lips while you tried to laugh. And Luke was laughing, too. You were each other’s best friend, and you had kissed.

“Wanna keep driving?” Luke asked you, tracing your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

You grinned and nodded before pecking his lips. And then you skipped over to the passenger seat to once again fill the night with new memories to be made.

-

Luke grabbed your hand and laced your fingers with his while The Summer Set continued to blast throughout his car. It felt good to touch you, to finally feel you after all of these years. For some reason, he craved your touch even more now. It had only been a week, yet Luke quickly realized the effect you had on him. It had never been like this before, and he was relieved to know you felt the same way, too. He couldn’t get enough of you.

He wanted every piece of you.

“Should we head back home?” you asked at around two in the morning, lips red from the 7-Eleven slushie you were slurping.

Luke smiled at your appearance. His heart swelled at the sight of you so comfortable in his company. It made him want to hold you and never let go. “You gettin’ tired, babe?”

You giggled. “Never said that.”

Luke’s face physically ached from the weight of his grin.

“I like it when you call me that,” you said.

“Hm?”

“When you call me ‘babe’,” you spoke. “I like it.”

Luke felt a chill rush over him. He wanted to call you “babe” every single fucking day–– he never wanted to stop. “Yeah, babe?”

You hummed.

Luke’s hand instinctively reached out to place itself on your thigh, and he froze. But you didn’t react. When he looked over, your smile hadn’t left.

“Is this okay?” he asked you, fingers burning and shifting against your leggings. His eyes left the road for a split second to watch you nod. Luke smiled again and squeezed your thigh, emitting a quick squeal from you. The sound was music to his ears, and he couldn’t believe how fast he had fallen for everything about you.

The silence that fell over was comfortable.

“Is this what Brian felt like when he wrote Passenger Seat?” you asked after a while.

Luke glanced at you, smile still wide as he slowly replied, “it’s exactly what he felt.”

He took you down to a small beach off of the beaten path after that. The waves were loud, almost violent as he kept his hand firmly locked with yours. The breeze had picked up, but he could still hear your teeth chattering through the gusts.

“Gosh, sure is nice to have a jacket to keep me warm right now,” said Luke while he set himself down into the sand.

“Sh-shut the fuck up,” you muttered, plopping right beside him. “You’re such a fucking j-jackass.”

Luke laughed and took off his jacket, nevertheless. You pulled it over you before falling against him, head nestling onto his shoulder as you brought your knees up for warmth.

“It’s so dark,” you said a few moments later. “Did you come here to murder me?”

“How’d you know?” gasped Luke.

You shoved him away, he only tugged you in closer. You set your head on his lap, and the two of you sat there for thirty minutes in complete silence. He hadn’t wanted to stay quiet–– he had so many things bouncing about in his brain, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say a single word. He couldn’t tell you that this week had been the best week of his entire life, and he couldn’t beg you to stay. He couldn’t keep you in a city you hated to be in.

It had hurt to hear you say that, but he didn’t disagree. Los Angeles didn’t fit you; it never would, no matter how much he wanted you to stay with him. You belonged in comforting towns, ones filled with life and love but held hopes and dreams high. You belonged with him, yet he wasn’t sure where he belonged either. It was too painful to think about.

So, Luke kissed your forehead and ran his fingers along your arm. If he could hold you forever, then he wouldn’t have to think about anything else. He wouldn’t have to think about saying goodbye to you within the next week. He wouldn’t have to think about losing all of the built-up feelings that had surfaced within the past few days. He wouldn’t have to think about losing you.

You were curled up in the passenger seat of his car on the ride home. Your eyes had succumbed to exhaustion at the beach, and he carried you all the way back without stirring you awake. It filled his heart with so much love to see you so calm and peaceful–– he wanted to take you home and hold you for the rest of his life. But he couldn’t do that. He buckled you in, kissed your forehead once more, and then drove home in silence. It left him alone with his thoughts, and he didn’t like that.

“Lu?” Your eyes fluttered open as he unbuckled you and prepared to take you into his home.

“Mornin’, darling,” he said, cracking a smile.

You hummed. “You don’t have t’carry me,” you said, “but thank you.” You rubbed at your tired eyes, and he grabbed your hands to help lift you out of the car. You fell against him and pulled him into a tight hug.

He chuckled, but he didn’t say anything. He just held you close.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you mumbled into his shirt. You leaned back to look up at him.

Luke smiled, and he felt like the luckiest man in the world. He kissed you softly before pulling you back into a hug. “I’ve missed you, too.”

-

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

On my way home.

Still okay with going to the party?

You:

ya i wanna black out and vomit in a pool

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Please do not do that.

You:

don’t poop on my party

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

It’s technically not your party

You:

party pooper

stinky pooper

ur stinky

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

You’re stinky.

You:

yes

-

The next day was weird.

It felt like the night prior had been some drug-induced dream filled with romcom storylines inside a coming-of-age film. It was an old memory resurfaced–– a moment you had shared with him many years prior. Things changed so suddenly.

And neither of you spoke of it. You didn’t know how to. At the same time, you weren’t sure you wanted to.

It had been beautiful in the moment, but thinking back, you weren’t sure it had been a good idea. Luke was Luke, a famous rock star living among the elites in Lost Angeles, and you were a shell of a best friend, old remnants of a life he used to live. You weren’t the one for him, and you never had been. He had too many choices before him; he wouldn’t choose his best friend.

A friend was hosting a birthday party, one you assumed would involve a cake and stupid decorations, perhaps presents as well. But the house was packed upon arrival, and it felt more like a frat party than anything. You wished you had known, yet you fisted the skirt of your black dress and ambled in behind Luke, feeling more like a lost puppy than ever.

Because he had always been a people person. He had always loved people.

You lost him at some point in the night. You scoured the premises, searching for his bright red button-down amongst the sea of illustrious eyes. And then there was you, looking sad and somewhat angry while you searched for your best friend. He had done this only a week ago. He had left you to fend for yourself against a pack of B-list wolves. You hardly felt human in comparison.

Sweat had accumulated against your back while you wandered the crowded rooms. You admired the architecture through a Mike’s Hard haze, wishing you had left town when Luke did to maybe make a name for yourself in and amongst the wealthy. The guilt would have eaten you alive; it would have been all at Luke’s expense.

You found him in the kitchen at one point during the night. He stood there with his friends crowded around, a dazzling yet drunken smile etched on his features, and it seemed as though his eyes alone lit the whole room. The knot building in your stomach was uncomfortable. His laugh echoed, and you had to excuse yourself before he could glance your way.

So, you wandered again and retraced your steps, wondering if you would ever know your place in a world this big. It felt like you never would.

You hadn’t gotten black-out drunk, nor did you vomit in a stranger’s pool. Instead, you sat by that pool with your feet plunged into the illuminated water, fingers still cradling the neck of your lemonade while you listened to strangers talk. The bright blue below made you feel sick, so you stared up at the light-polluted sky and hoped for the night to be over soon.

And then there was a tap on your shoulder.

“Jesus Christ–– thought I lost ya for good,” said Luke, voice hoarse and slurred while he slumped down onto the brick beside you. He stuck his feet in the water without rolling up his pants.

“Nope,” you mumbled. “Been here.”

Luke was smiley, and the freckles on his nose seemed more prominent under the teal hue from the pool.

“Where’d you go?” you asked him, yet your heart ached at the thought of him leaving you the way he did. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Uh, y’know.” Luke shrugged. “This, there, n’ that.”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t know.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” said Luke, fingers running along the surface of the water before gently splashing your knees. “Wanted t’show my girl around. People kept asking ‘bout you.”

“Your–– your girl?” The words rattled around in your brain, but at the moment, they didn’t settle quite right. They would have sounded wonderful the night prior. But you weren’t property. You weren’t his girl.

Luke glanced at you, eyes shiny and dark, and his lips tugged into a lazy smile. He smelled of whiskey sour and bourbon, a combination that made your stomach churn. You admitted his proximity intimidated you, and you admitted that you wanted nothing more than to go back to last night.

Suddenly, Luke was leaning in to kiss you, and all you could do was push him back. It had been sloppy and wet. It had been wrong.

You couldn’t speak.

“Sorry?” he asked. His eyebrows scrunched together.

You stood quickly, reaching down to fix your dress before you walked off. Luke was hot on your tail.

“I thought you were cool with that!” he exclaimed as he stomped through the grass behind you. A few strangers turned their heads, so you faced him and kept him close. “Did last night mean anything to you?”

“Yes,” you said flatly. “Last night meant everything to me. But last night means nothing now. It has to mean nothing now.”

Luke laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Us, Luke,” you said, holding out your arms. “We’ve been best friends for like, ten years, and suddenly that changes in one night. Maybe if we were on similar paths, it would actually work. But it doesn’t work, Luke. It just doesn’t. Not for us.”

His face relaxed, and his lips pulled into a frown. “Not for us?” he whispered. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that you’re you,” you said, “and I’m me. We live on two different parts of the world, and we still don’t know where we belong. It’s not the right time–– if there’s even a right time at all.” You hugged your bare arms as a light breeze blew over.

“Who fucking cares?”

“I care,” you replied.

Luke let out an exasperated sigh. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled, laughing lightly. “Why do you have t’care? Just say fuck it. Do what you fuckin’ want.”

“No, Luke, I can’t just do that––“

“God, you’re being so annoying.”

You blinked. “I’m–– what?”

Luke blanched and swallowed. “Nothing.”

“I’m being so annoying?” you asked with a smirk. “Oh, wow. Okay. Sorry. I guess I’ll stop being so annoying then.”

“No,” said Luke. “I didn’t mean that.”

“You can’t take it back.”

“Please.” His eyes widened, and his sincerity radiated off of him. “I didn’t––“

“What did you mean?”

“What?”

You sighed. Your stomach hurt, and you wanted to just go home. “If you didn’t mean it, then what did you mean?”

Luke shrugged. “Just think you’re being kinda unreasonable.”

“What?” you questioned. “Because I don’t like it here?”

“Because you’re not open to trying!” yelled Luke.

His raised voice made your heart stop. It made every built-up emotion ache to release in an instant. But you wouldn’t let yourself cry. “I want to try,” you said weakly. “I wanna try so badly. But I wanna be happy, Lu.”

He folded his arms over his chest.

“I’m happy with you,” you continued. “But I’m not gonna be happy here. As much as I like being with you, it’s not gonna cancel any of that out.”

Luke didn’t reply. He stared at you, eyes glazed and emotionless.

“I’m gonna go home,” you said.

“Okay.”

You nodded. “I mean, home home.”

Luke’s eyes filled with another unreadable emotion. “Why?”

You sighed again, but this time, you felt annoyed as well. You felt like every feeling from the night prior had dripped from your shoulders. You felt like it had all gone down the drain. “I don’t belong here,” you said.

“Yes, you fucking do!”

“I’m going home,” you repeated, this time harsher as your eyes brimmed with tears.

Luke’s composure fell. There was silence for a moment, and then he nodded. He nodded twice. “Okay,” he mumbled. “Okay.”

-

Luke had been peeling the skin from around his nails.

The two days following the party had been spent in heavy tension. It took every ounce of him to not bring it up–– he wanted to talk about everything he had said, yet the more time that passed, the more he forgot. But he remembered every change in your expression, and his stomach churned at the thought of him upsetting you the way he did. He wanted to take it all back.

You didn’t mention it either. You packed up your belongings quietly, and he didn’t bother you. He didn’t bother exhausting you over words that meant little in the grand scheme of things. Because as much as he wanted you to stay, he knew that you had no choice. In a perfect world, he could drop everything for you. In a perfect world, he could settle down and be with you for the rest of his life. Nobody made decisions in the span of a week, but he wished he could.

He saw you. He didn’t want to see anyone else.

Luke drank his coffee cold on your last day. It stained his white shirt, yet he kept his feet planted against the tiles in his kitchen. He didn’t go change because you were back in the guest room, and he knew that his chest would hurt the sight of you. He knew he would try to say things to make you stay. He knew that they would fail.

He heard the wheels of your suitcase before he saw you. And then you were there, jean jacket draped over your arm while you waited for him to speak up. Luke didn’t know how to talk anymore. He only felt dejection.

“My flight leaves in four hours,” you said, grip tightening around the handle of your suitcase.

Luke nodded. He wanted to believe you were sad, too. He wanted to believe you still thought about that night only days ago.

“I can call a cab,” you continued with a shrug. A light-hearted shrug that felt out-of-place.

He shook his head. “I’ll take you,” he said, but his voice was weak.

“Okay.”

And the familiar silence clicked back into place. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It hadn’t felt like this before. Leaving you at sixteen was full of smiles and “see-you-soon”’s. But with you leaving now, it felt like you were leaving for good.

Luke nodded again. “Okay.”

The ride to the airport was quiet. It was a sickening quiet, one that brought on the urge to cry and scream. He wanted to yell at himself for being so fucking ridiculous. His fingers tensed against the steering wheel.

When Luke parked the car, the words “I’m sorry” tumbled from his lips.

You glanced over. “What for?”

A part of him wanted to laugh. You knew the exact reasons why he felt sorry.

But he just shrugged. “For throwing you into my life,” he said. “It was selfish of me. I didn’t think about how it would make you feel.”

“You didn’t mean it like that,” you replied. “I know you didn’t. You were just showing me your life.”

“But it was too much.”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

You gave Luke a small, sad smile before reaching over and grabbing his hand. You intertwined your fingers with his.

“If it’s okay,” you said, “I’d still like to be a part of your life.”

Luke smiled, too. “Yeah,” he breathed out. “It’s always okay.”

-

You felt sick.

You held Luke’s hand on your way into the airport, and you dreaded letting go. You dreaded the idea of possibly never feeling his touch again. You weren’t saying goodbye for good, but it felt like you were.

“Here’s where I leave you,” he mumbled, voice breaking at the last few words, and his grip on your hand loosened.

You refused to let him go. When you turned around, Luke’s façade had chipped. His eyes welled with tears, and soon enough, yours had, too. You pushed yourself against him in a tight embrace, arms meeting around his neck while his wrapped around your waist. The tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them.

You wondered why it was so hard. You wondered why it hurt so much.

You held him for as long as you could before losing your balance. Yet, when you pulled away, you didn’t let go of him. You stood on your toes to brush your nose against his.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, clutching the collar of his shirt as you pressed your lips to his through tear slicked cheeks.

Luke held you closer, and this time, he didn’t let you pull away. His lips were warm and wet, but it was perfect. Everything about him was perfect. It hurt so much. You wanted to kiss him forever.

When all air ceased, Luke rested his forehead against yours, and you could feel his own tears falling against your skin. His breath was hot on your lips. And then you pulled him in again, teeth clashing in a hard yet heartbreaking kiss. You didn’t care–– you just needed to feel his lips again.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled.

Your arms weakened around his shoulders, hands soon resting on his chest as you began to move away. It hurt to smile, but you did it anyway. “Gonna miss you, Squid,” you said, and your eyes watered once more.

Luke sniffed, and as your hand cupped his cheek, he leaned into you. He let out a breath. “Gonna miss you, too,” he said.

Your hand fell back to your side. “Well,” you said, swallowing down the tears that threatened to spill. You shot him another smile. “I’ll let you know when I land.”

He nodded. “Yeah, um––“ He scratched the back of his head. “Thank you.”

So, you nodded, too. “See you soon, String Bean.”

And finally, Luke smiled, too.

You gathered your belongings and slowly made your way to the security line, stomach twisting as your thoughts invaded. You couldn’t shake the negative feelings away. Every glance over your shoulder reminded you that you didn’t want to say goodbye. Every step felt erroneous. You looked back at Luke.

He waved at you, and your chest caved in.

It was wrong. Everything was wrong.

Your eyes scanned the line and the many travelers waiting with their tickets in hand. You looked at the agents who seemed less than pleased to be there that day. And finally, you locked your gaze back on Luke again, and your heart tugged.

It was wrong.

So, you left the line and walked back over to him, and he watched you the entire time.

“I’m sure there’s a later flight,” you sputtered out, heart pounding in your chest while a grin spread on his cheeks. You smiled in return.

“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “I’m sure there is.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck again and kissed him until your head spun. It finally felt so right.

[korgidorgi]

TLOU&Supergirl Crossover x Reader - Part 6

Word Count: 2303

Warnings: Nightmare, violence, not real death, swearing

Part 1 - P2 - P3 - P4 - P5

You find yourself falling. It's a short drop, but it hurts once you land on your back, squishing the Clicker between you and a polished table. You let out a groan of pain before you slip off the edge and onto the polished floor. Some items fall off with you, some of them breaking. You yelp in pain as a few glass shards embed themselves into your skin. The bright lights of the object that dropped you from the ceiling and the room hinder your sense briefly, but your eyes soon adjust. The Clicker rolls over and quickly gets on top of you, screeching at you as you desperately try to fight it off.

“Fuck, get off me!” You yell at it, trying to keep it's face away from you. “Abby! Lev!”

The Bloater across the room screams at you, locating you before charging. You quickly shiv the Clicker, pushing its body off of you and you quickly duck out of the way, quickly grabbing your new molotov and yeeting it at the creature, setting it alight. It flails about as the flames lick at it's fungal skin. The fire finally dies on it and you’ve already found a new position. The doors on the opposite side of the room slide open just as the Bloater starts charging you.

“Look out!” The person screams.

You roll out of the Bloaters path just in time, but the Bloater gives you no time to recover and charges again, knocking you down.

…

“Alright, this should work.” Lena says, plugging things into a tablet to operate her and Brainy’s device. “We might have to go through a few different portals so we don't give you the wrong one.”

“But, if we match the energy reading up to the one you came through, we’ll have a better chance of locating the exact portal you came through.” Brainy adds, looking at his own tablet to monitor the device's energy levels.

The two start the device up, trying to find the right wormholes to open up to connect you back to your world. You can finally see Abby and Lev again! You bounce on your feet in anticipation as you watch a familiar light blue glow begin from the portal. It finally opens wide enough and Lena and Brainy double and triple check everything on their monitors and tablets.

“Alright, just step through and check if it's your world.” Lena says. “We’ll hold it open for you. Just step back through to tell us whether it's right or not.”

You take a breath before stepping through. You’re back in the lab where it all happened. The dark lab is illuminated by your flashlight and the light of the portal. You take a few cautious steps forward, looking around the room. It’s empty.

“Abby? Lev?” You call out, stepping over broken glass and other wreckage.

There’s no response, so you push into the building, gun now in hand. You quickly make your way to the ground floor to look for the two.

“Abby?” You call, coming up the stairs. “Lev?”

You reach the top of the stairs to the ground floor and spot them. They’re both laying on the ground. Your heart rate picks up at the sight. You rush over to them to make sure they’re okay and as you get closer, you notice that there's blood everywhere.

“Shit. No no no no no…” You mutter, kneeling by their bodies.

They’ve got scratches and tears all over their bodies. It looks like Infected did this.

“Lev… Abby...” Tears start rolling down your face as you cry over them. “Please, move, speak, anything.” You beg, holding onto Abby’s limp hand. “Please…”

…

Your eyes shoot open and are met with the familiar sight of the dark ceiling. You sit up, shoving the blankets back a bit. You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up to make your way to the living room. You glance at the clock: 3:07 am. You sigh, running your fingers through your hair, pacing silently about the room trying to forget your dream. It was just so real. After a while of pacing around and standing at the window, you take a seat at Kara’s kitchen island on the stool. You reach into your pocket and pull out the tag and look over it before closing your hand over it. You place your elbows on the table and fold your other hand over your fist and rest your chin on top of your hands.

Not too long after, Kara emerges, softly padding down the short hallway and leaning on the wall. 

“Still not sleeping well?” She sleepily asks, yawning.

“No.” You admit, turning the tag on your hands.

“Whatcha got there?” She asks referring to the tag.

“It belongs to a friend.” You answer, thinking back to the day you met your friends. “She gave it to me after I found her when she and this kid brought their boat ashore Catalina Island.”

“What’re their names?” She asks, making her way over to sit next to you.

“Abby and Lev.” You answer.

“What are they like?” She presses on.

“Well, when I first met them, they were very defensive. They were weak, so they were kind of forced to let me take care of them.” You begin to think about the events from back then. “They’ve grown to like me, since they both invited me to join them. Abby is very strong and protective, though she can be stand-offish at times. Lev is quite wise for his age. He came from this weird cult in Seattle. He’s still learning some things about ‘Old World’ things.”

“What do you mean by ‘Old World’?” Kara wonders.

“The people he came from, Seraphites, didn’t believe in technology like electricity or powered items. They had some exceptions for their soldiers, who used guns as well as bows and arrows. They used wood to make their houses and watch towers and other structures on their island.” You explain.

“How long have you known them?”

“I’ve lost track.” You answer. “I’d say a long time, maybe a year and a half, two years.”

“Were you guys looking for something before this all happened?”

“Actually, yeah. Abby wants to find a group she used to be a part of called the Fireflies.” You look over your pendant. “That’s what this is from.” You set it down for her to look at. “The two got a lead for Catalina Island, but by the time they arrived and recovered, the base was no more. We still don’t know where they are. We’ve heard some rumors saying somewhere around National City. Some sort of Desert Facility.” You explain. “We have no clue where it is, just that it’s close to National City.”

“I think I know what you’re talking about.” Kara announces, placing the pendant back on the table.

“You do?” You perk up at her answer.

“Yeah, Alex used to work there.” She says, turning to fully face you. “I can take you there sometime!” 

“You can?” You’re in shock at the news.

“Yeah, so as long as our two worlds are parallel and everything is just… abandoned in your world, it would still be there in your world.” She says, getting excited. “And depending on what else has changed about your world's environment, it would pretty much be the same route in both worlds. Of course I would have to ask Alex about taking you there, but I doubt she’ll say no to me.”

“That sounds great!” You exclaim, heart rate picking up a bit in your excitement.

Kara glances at the clock. “It's only 6:35. We gotta be at the DEO by 8. I doubt you feel like going back to sleep for 40 minutes.”

“Yeah, not really.”

“How do you want to kill some time?” She asks and you shrug in response. “Why don’t you tell me more about Abby and Lev?”

The two of you go back and forth, her asking questions about them, and you answering them. You share a few major stories about your encounters with Infected, and some small lighthearted memories; ones without danger. You then start asking questions about Kara’s friends, and she returns the favor by answering and telling stories about them. You continue to talk through breakfast before finally calling it and heading out to drive to the DEO. Upon arrival, Alex is waiting by the circular table as usual. 

“Alex, so in her world, her and her friends are trying to find a group called the Fireflies. I think their base is the Desert Facility.” Kara explains. “So, I was going to make sure it was okay with you to show her where the facility is so when she goes back, she can help her friends get there.”

“They won't let you in.” Alex warns.

“Yeah, I know, I just want to show her where it is so she can find it when she goes back.” Kara acknowledges.

“Alright, I don’t see a problem with it.” Alex says, putting her hands on her hips.

“Thank you, Alex!” She excitedly bounces on her feet. “Can I take her later today?”

“Sure, as long as she’s back before you have to take her home for the night.” Alex approves.

“Alright! I’ll go tell her!” Kara briskly makes her way into the Lab you’re hanging out in under the supervision of Lena and Brainy.

She opens the door and enters, shooting the two scientists a smile and greeting. “Y/N! Great news!” She walks over to your puzzled form. “Alex is going to let me take you to the Desert Facility!”

“Really?” You ask, surprised.

She nods her head ecstatically.

“Wow, I- Thank you, Kara.” You say.

“I’ll take you later today, I’ve got to check into work first, but I’ll swing by around noon, yeah?” Kara asks.

“Yeah, that's- that works.” You beam at her.

“Great, I’ll see you then!” She confirms.

She then makes her way out of the building, leaving you alone with the two geniuses. To kill time, you start to write a little bit in your journal, sketching a few things to go along with it.

…

Around 12, Kara pokes her head in, just as she had said earlier. You jump to your feet, grabbing your stuff and shoving it in your bag.

“You ready?” She asks, giggling at your antics.

She leads you to her car, waving goodbye to Alex, before making your way down and out of the building. You both get in her car and strap in before taking off. During the ride, Kara tries her best to point out all the street names that she takes, which direction, and whatnot. You dig out your journal and begin to write down the directions as she talks. She points out different notable features of the environment to maybe help as a marker to let you know if you were on the right trail. The cityscape soon becomes residences, small roads, and finally a desert. She continues down the roads, continuing to give you information about the directions. She turns off of the main road and onto a dirt road. She continues for a few minutes before signs start popping up about trespassing. She stops the vehicle and the two of you get out to look around the area.

The dust covered tundra stretches for miles. It's almost impossible to see the skyscrapers of National city. The ridges of the small mountains you two passed through on the way there stand proudly in the distance as the sun beats down on the two of you.

“Okay, so the Facility is just a couple miles ahead.” Kara explains. “This is just the border to the property. If you just continue this way, you should start to see it soon.”

She stands with you for a few more minutes, letting you take in the scenery before she heads back to get in the car. You join her moments after and she hands you a folded piece of paper.

“This is a map of the city, I almost forgot to give it to you.” She turns to help you unfold the map and she takes a pen to it, circling a few buildings in the city. “This is the DEO.” She notes on the map and aloud, moving to circle another building. “This is L-Corp, and this is the exit we took out of the city.” She circles and labels them on the map. “Hope this is helpful for when you go back to your world.” She smiles.

“Thank you, you’re such a big help.” You respond.

She gives you another smile before starting the car to take you back to the DEO.

… 

“How was it?” Alex greets the two of you.

“I think it went well.” Kara responds.

“Yeah, thanks for letting us go.” You thank her for her gesture.

“Well, I think Lena and Brainy have some news for you.” Alex informs you, gesturing to the Lab they’re working in.

You push the door open and enter, catching the two scientists' attention.

“Hello, how was your outing?” Lena greets.

“It was fine.” You respond. “Uh, Alex said you have some news for me.”

“Ah, yes. Well, so we found a model that worked with the computers” She states. “We have the stuff to make it, it will just take some time.”

“Do you know approximately how long?” You ask.

“Maybe a week, if everything goes smoothly.” She informs.

“Which I calculated to be an 86.626% chance of success.” Brainy interrupts, spilling a bunch of numbers.

“We’ll need your participation to find your world, of course, when we have tested it.” Lena adds.

“Alright, that’s great. Thank you.”

[the-ancients-son]

★ FILL IN THE QUESTIONS AS IF YOU ARE BEING INTERVIEWED FOR AN ARTICLE AND YOU WERE YOUR MUSE. Note: long under the cut.

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?   “Janus.”

“Janos.”

“... James.”

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME?   “Janus Audron.” “Janos Audron.” “Why are you asking that? I just told you.”

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU’RE CALLED THAT? “Based off the god of beginnings and endings.”

“A fancy way of saying ‘John’.”

“It sounded ordinary.”

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN? “Single.”

“Widowed.”

“... Single.”

5. WHAT ARE YOUR POWERS AND ABILITIES? “I have telekinesis, sleep magic, inhuman strength and endurance, and I can fly.”

“Flight, endurance and strength, some wind magical abilities, telekinesis.”

“You really ask a lot of questions don’t you... telekinesis, flight, waves of energy... that sort of thing.”

6. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES? “Golden yellow.”

“Gold.” “You need to ask, why? Whiteish grey if I must say it verbally.”

7. HAVE YOU EVER DYED YOUR HAIR? “Nope.”

“No.”

“No, why would I?”

8. DO YOU HAVE ANY FAMILY MEMBERS? “Yea, my dad and friends that are like family, if they count.”

“Yes, I have a son.”

“Not anymore... unless you count adopted family...”

9. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? “Not anymore.”

“No.”

“No.”

10. TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE. “... celery is a satan vegetable.”

“The hylden were not good people.”

“Almost anything, practically.”

11. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES OR ACTIVITIES YOU DO IN YOUR SPARE TIME? “I like to go flying, baking, crochet, knitting, and reading mainly.”

“Yes, I like to cook and bake, knit, crochet, garden, read...”

“... Reading.”

12. HAVE YOU EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE? “... Yes.”

“Unfortunately yes...”

“What kind of question is this? ... I have.”

13. HAVE YOU EVER… KILLED ANYONE? “... yes.”

“... too many.”

“... yes.”

14. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU? “Uh... vampyre i guess?”

“Vampyre, or ancient?”

“I don’t know how to answer this.”

15. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS. “... neglecting my needs.”

“... I suppose my tendency to let my kindness burn me out.”

“No.”

16. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE? “Yea, Dad of course.”

“I dunno.”

“... Janos...”

17. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL? “Uh... all of the above? I’m pan.”

“Bisexual.”

“None.”

18. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL? “No,” - all three

19. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS SOMEDAY? “Yea... though I can’t have biological kids.”

“I’ve done that, actually. I wouldn’t mind finding another partner, though...”

“...”

20. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANS? “*shrug*”

“I have a paper fan I use during the summer.”

“No... random question...”

21. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF? “... Dad dying again...”

“Something happening to Janus...”

“Like hell am I telling you.”

22. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR? “The clothes I’m wearing now.” “This outfit.”

“... *gestures at his outfit*”

23. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE? “Platonically? A ton of people. Romantically...? I dunno...”

“Not romantically.”

“... No.”

24. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? “Huh?”

“None, exactly.”

“None.”

25. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE? “A lot! They’re all great.”

“A few...”

“... I can count my friends with one hand, *holds up 2 fingers*”

26. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE? “Delicious!”

“I like to bake it sometimes, it’s quite tasty.”

“... Meh.”

27. FAVORITE DRINK? “Fruit juice like apple or orange, though coca and tea are also good.”

“Tea.”

“I practically live off of coffee.”

29. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE? “Balconies.”

“Places with Janus in it.”

“... libraries.”

30. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE? “Uh... *blushes* ... I dunno.”

“Not currently.”

“*blushes* no!”

31. WHAT’S YOUR DICK SIZE? “UH... *more blushing as he covers his crotch*”

“... uh, I’d rather not answer... *averts his eyes, blushing*”

“Why would you ask that?! *intense blushing*”

32. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN? “A lake. A bit more private.”

“Lake.”

“Why?”

33. WHAT’S YOUR ‘TYPE’? “Dark hair, kind and smart, funny...”

“I... don’t really know.”

“I don’t have one.”

34. ANY FETISHES? “... no, why...?

“... no.”

“I don’t even have much sexual desire, much less that!”

35. TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE? “... *a lot of blushing* bottom and submissive...”

“Switch.”

“I’ve never done it before, nor do I want to!”

36. CAMPING, OR INDOORS? “Oooo, camping is fun!”

“Camping can be nice.”

“Indoors.”

37. ARE YOU WAITING FOR THIS INTERVIEW TO BE OVER? “*shrug* Not really.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Yes, very much so.” Stolen from @thecrxmxnal​

Tagging: @crimson-warrior​, @rubyscout​

[askiisoft]

FAN ART FRIDAY: ALL THE WARRIORS, Part 2

And to think I was planning to fit all of the OCs into one week...yeah, not happening. With 50+ entries and counting, I’ll be lucky to fit them all into four parts.

Welcome back to Part 2 of “All The Warriors”, a multi-week showcase of the Katana ZERO community’s awesome fan characters! The volume of submissions for this event has been mind-blowing, to the point where I’ve had to create a dedicated Excel spreadsheet to keep track of them all. If you haven’t submitted your character yet, there’s still one week left! If you have, rest assured that it’ll will be included eventually, so please be patient! 

For those who missed it, don’t forget to check out Part 1 of this series.

[WARNING: The work herein is based on fan creations, and should not be considered canon.]

Alpha 13, “Believer” by @DokusatsuMurXer

What is the loneliest number? ‘One’, you say? Nope, it’s 13...Alpha 13, that is.

Being one of the first Alpha-series NULL, it’s likely that Thirteen joined purely out of adoration for the illusive “Great Scientist”—a noble cause compared to the violent psychosis that defined the later Gamma-series NULL. While it’s clear he’s taken lives in service of his one-sided infatuation, it’s hard not to see him as another victim, still pining for his senpai’s attention even after everyone’s graduated and moved away years ago. Why do we always love the one who will hurt us the most? 

According to @DokusatsuMurXer’s, the drunken swirls in his Post-war portrait are hiding something much steamier. I can only imagine.

Please, senpai. By @DokusatsuMurXer

—

Beta 6, “Blade” by @Khwany_kawawii

In the Third District, there’s only two ways to get what you need: by coercion, or by force. Beta 6 opts for both, and seems to have a reputation on par with The Dragon amongst hapless goons. Ironically, it seems amnesiac NULL like Blade or Zero are the ones who kept going on killing sprees after the war, instead of throwing in with criminal syndicates or settling into an ordinary day job.

Her giant curtain of hair, while a bit ridiculous-looking standing still, would certainly add a sense of dynamism as she flipped and pirouetted in midair, tossing knives left and right. Also, knives.

“With no drugs, I will die. But with the drugs...I am the Killing Angel.” By @Khwany_kawawii

—

Ema by @Khwany_kawawii

Well, would you look at that. Not only is Ema our first non-NULL OC, but also the first...*drum roll*...Cromag! That’s right—as a child, Ema barely survived a NULL attack that killed her family, and she’s dedicated her life to finding whoever was responsible ever since. 

The concept of a private eye in Katana ZERO’s neo-noir metropolis, especially one who suffers from such intense trauma and racial discrimination, has fantastic plot potential. What if she finds the NULL who orphaned her, but they don’t remember it? What if they have to team up? I can’t help but wonder how long an average woman (bionic arm aside) could survive in this dark underbelly of drugged-up super-soldiers...

—

Gamma 4 by @camellia_066

Not every hero dies on a battlefield.

Being a commander means taking responsibility for those under your command. For some that extends beyond wartime, and especially so after the one-way process of becoming NULL; while an Alpha could skip doses of Chronos with nothing more than a nosebleed, a Gamma might require twice the dosage just to stay lucid. 

Maybe the weight of New Mecca’s defeat was too much for him to bear. Maybe he knew that a cure for Chronos was a pipedream. But it was better to die for the slim chance of salvation than witness his former comrades slaughter one another for just another dose. 

—

Gamma 12 by @wqwrppwu

So this is who’s been stealing my Uber Eats.

The idea of a Gamma-level NULL—especially one as devious-looking as Gamma 12—working as a pizza guy is hilarious to me. I have a soft spot for features like thin noses, wild eyes, and razor teeth that just scream “bad guy, stay away”. Most other NULL would just kill the cashier and take what they want, but Twelve uses his powers to steal booze and cigarettes and get away with it, every time. 

It makes sense that he’d be best friends with Alpha 25, “Pomidor” (see Part 1)  thanks to their mutual eccentricity and love of mayhem. 

Camaraderie at work. By @wqwrppwu

—

Gamma 5 by twink-182

Beta 6 had better be a wizard to claim the nickname “Blade”, given how many Gamma-level knife experts roam the city’s underbelly. Once part of Fifteen’s circle of former NULL, Gamma 5 evidently saw the writing on the wall and decided to leave before his comrade’s vendetta drew him deeper into danger. Otherwise, who knows, we might have had a quick, teleporting knife-thrower heckling us throughout the Headhunter boss fight...yeah, maybe it’s for the best that he’s M.I.A.

I’m guessing the photo and red string is just another point on Fifteen’s byzantine conspiracy board; I hope we get to see the whole thing one day.

—

Alpha 4 by @kym0433

As with any conflict, the end of Cromag War produced massive windfalls for organized crime in terms of illegal weapons, war drugs, and super-soldiers thirsty for Chronos. Luckily for Alpha 4, the Chinese had carved out their own niche in New Mecca’s Chinatown, and they offered him a steady supply of "ke le nuo si”, as they called it, plus a cushy job as a bodyguard; after all, who would dare to start trouble on their turf? Who, but a certain samurai who walked up to the roulette table one day...

While Ted might not be the strongest NULL, he leads the pack in terms of fashion. No musty olive fatigues for this killer—whether it’s a traditional patterned chengshan or tasseled shawl, Ted makes it look awesome. No one would even suspect he’s hiding weapons under there! 

By @kym0433

—

Beta 24, “Cecil” by @Tacoyaki86

Contrary to popular belief, the inability to feel pain is not a superpower, especially when paired with a military specialization as hazardous as demolitions and bomb disposal. Imagine not realizing your hands got blown off until you reached for a sip of coffee. That, and you’d be stone deaf from constant close-range explosions and minigun fire.

Knowing that, I can understand Beta 24′s desire to spend a quiet veterancy at a manga café, where the otaku don’t want to chat anyway and the biggest risks are coffee burns and paper cuts. 

Also, is that chevron on his beret the same as Headhunter’s? That must indicate rank, or possibly explosives experts. Given Headhunter’s propensity for sticky mines and suicide vests, I’d believe it.

“Detonation successful!” By @Tacoyaki86

—

Gamma 767, “Retana” by @TailWood

Given how many NULL prefer close-range weapons like knives, swords, and bludgeons, having to fire artillery from kilometers away must seem like a crushing indignity for a Gamma like 767: slowing time just means it takes longer for his rockets to hit their targets, and he can’t even collect any trophies to show off to the guys at the bar once they’re off-duty! But hey, someone’s got to do it; I don’t think even the sharpest steel would do much against a tank...

By @TailWood

—

Gamma 9, “Nara” by @couriervictor

Sadism and sharp objects don’t pair well together. It was never explained why Headhunter chose to wear her old uniform everywhere, but in Gamma 9′s case it’s pretty clear: he’s an elite, and he wants you to know it. Lack of physical strength doesn’t matter, since everyone in Katana ZERO died in one hit anyway, and his affinity for throwing knives reminds me of Biker’s levels from Hotline Miami. More knives.

—

Alpha 35, “Sako” by @matsumatsu_kou

For a Gamma NULL, overcoming a debilitating wound is as simple as using their powers to ‘reset’ and try again until they can win the battle without a single scratch. Sadly, that wasn’t an option for their lesser Alpha brethren, as evidenced by Alpha 35. 

There have been known cases of NULL choosing to retain scars and other superficial injuries as badges of honor, but if there’s a reason why Sako chooses to fight with a blind eye and busted arm, it’s beyond me. However, if Proto-15 is anything to go by, battle damage is a huge plus for you ferals out there, and it gives him an extra place to store those KNIVES. *snickt*

By @matsumatsu_kou

—

Beta 74 by @cheezysucks

“Take everything from a man but his weapon, and do not judge him thereafter.”

Even in the far-flung future of New Mecca, it seems PTSD still haunts soldiers returning from conflict, even those as exceptional as NULL—if a near-death experience is harrowing, imagine the trauma of countless actual deaths, each instance being dragged backwards in time to start over.

Still, as far as ex-NULL go, Beta 74 chose as honest a job as his ilk can manage, given their stigma abroad. And oh, wow, is he wearing a pair of those funky four-eyed night-vision goggles? Look them up, they’re real, and just as absurd-looking.

—

Gamma 5, “Heatseeker” by 6at

Pour one out for another fallen warrior, Gamma 5 (yes, I know there was already a Gamma 5 earlier, won’t be the last time this happens). Five seems more like a tactical fire commander than your average NULL, with actual combat armor and a bubble helmet seemingly inspired by early concept versions of Headhunter’s gear, replete with a digitized HUD; pretty slick-looking, I must say.

Knowing how far far New Mecca went to cover up the NULL program, I’m surprised they let Five live as long as they did, though his hermetic lifestyle likely made him a minimal risk. I’m guessing he was terminated around the same time the government halted the production of Chronos. Coincidence? 

Seems like ‘Heatseeker’ attracted a bit too much heat, heh heh.

—

And that was Part 2 of our Katana ZERO OC event. Is your finger tired from scrolling yet? Not as much as mine...

Click here to read ‘Part 3: Was Going To Be The Finale But I’m Drowning’. Thanks immensely to every single artist who’s submitted their characters and expanded the world of Katana ZERO just a bit more!

By @wqwrppwu

[blankdblank]

Anaticula Pt 37

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10 - Pt 11 - Pt 12 - Pt 13 - Pt 14 - Pt 15 - Pt 16 - Pt 17 - Pt 18 - Pt 19 - Pt 20 - Pt 21 - Pt 21b - Pt 22 - Pt 23 - Pt 24 - Pt 25 - Pt 26 -  Pt 27 - Pt 28 - Pt 29 - Pt 30 - Pt 31 - Pt 33 - Pt 34 - Pt 35 - Pt 36 -

.

2nd wk of December

Match 1 – Ravenclaw – Durm 4

Bolstered up with the news of having dates and dresses to the Ball the full Ravenclaw coasted their way into another victory over the visiting school a bit distracted by something you had no clue of yet.

Match 2 – Beaux 2 – Beaux 3

Fleur in this interschool battled against another house of her own friends got surprisingly heated until the other team managed to steal the win away at the last minute.

.

Coated in snow that was still falling following the map on the next origami owl you had received sending you all off in different directions from the other students. Across from an Auror in the center of a field you eyed the trio of judges who would alternate turns in facing each of you one on one until you all had either been disarmed or disarmed your opponent.

Beaux came first, all being disarmed but battled admirably for the few minutes they could muster up against the expert.

Durm came next and had all been victorious within a few moments sending them flying.

Cedric managed to knock his Auror down while Harry ended up in the snow bank. Lastly with the crowd of Champions looking on you stood across from your Auror who eyed you with wand extended stating, “If you do not have a wand that can count as automatic dismissal.”

You smirked and clapped your hands, covering him with two walls of snow that compacted while your hands met at the wrist and your fingers swayed through the snow morphing into a giant bird. The Auror’s head poked out of the bird’s stomach with arm extended and hand empty after having dropped his wand in your attack. Cheers and stunned laughter came from the on looking students through a picture being captured in the moments until your hands broke apart and the snow coating him released and he fell into the pile of snow under him.

Strolling back to the others you looked to the judges who cleared you to return to the school saying the task was handled and scores would be posted later. A base of five for if you managed to disarm the Auror, if not you were limited to five on skill of possible spells used to keep from a blank score.

.

4th test – Duel

Viktor – 9, Sebastian – 8, Lukas - 10

Fleur – 5, Charlotte – 4, Vivi - 4

Cedric – 9, Jaqi -  10, Harry – 4

On the way to Hogsmeade the test had been the talk of the school, especially that of the other Headmasters on how you had managed a wandless and silent enchantment that powerful in a moment’s notice leaving them circling on how to inch their Champions ahead while you held the clear lead. But all of them saw hope in the next task that could only help in boosting their scores even more.

.

3rd week

Noon in your usual school wide free period you all found yourselves in the Western greenhouse filled with the flocks of six winged hummingbirds who were feasting on the upside down dangling bright colored flowers ten feet above you. Professor Sprout stood brimming with glee in her standing next to a gramophone. “Now, for all of you wondering why you are here I would like clarify. It is for this upcoming festivities we would like to put our best foot forward, quite literally, and to ensure that all the houses are conducting lessons in the opening waltz for the Yule Ball.”

Summers off to the side asked, “We have to learn a waltz?”

Snickers were heard and her eyes narrowed for a moment and she said, “I will have you know it is a rare skill to be well versed in ballroom dancing. And I would not be shocked if a few of you are already interested in the lessons to impress your dates, especially the Champions present.”

Your eyes and Cedric’s eyes went to her both asking, “What?”

Her grin doubled, “The Champions open the Ball with a waltz.”

Cedric looked to you then asked, “How many lessons are you giving?”

“Just the one a day for a week.”

He looked to you again, “I might need more than that. I still trip on the stairs and we’ve been taking them for years.”

Professor Sprout looked to you asking, “Will you be needing extra lessons as well?”

You shook your head, “No, Black family tradition, we have to learn ballroom dances, four instruments, three language minimum-.” glancing at the other students looking back at you in shock for the requirements a deep sigh left you and you shrugged. “Dad said he wouldn’t stick to the tradition but I was supposed to be dead and until he got his job we had a lot of free time. Even took me to ballet, skating and gymnastics, just sort of happened to keep us distracted.”

Astoria mumbled, “I thought we were the only family like that.”

You smirked at her, “Sacred 28.” Earning a smirk from her in return.

Sprout looked to the twins asking, “Have you studied as well?”

They both nodded and smirked, “Triplets.”

Making her grin, “Then you three and Astoria, front and center, and,” looking over the others while you formed a line around her she named four others to come up and be your partners for the first lesson. Your lessons went well enough though on your way to lunch there was an agreement that any in the dorm needing help could always ask when you were free with Cedric no doubt requesting nightly refreshers from now till the ball.

.

Sebastian grinned by the spare space he was holding for you and asked when you took your seat, “You look happy, did you send your cat after Skeeter again?”

You giggled saying, “No. Just, dance lessons.”

His brow inched up, “For the Ball? Do you require extra lessons?”

You shook your head, “No. Family tradition, have to learn growing up, but they’ve offered lessons for each of the houses.” You giggled again, “Which we were wondering how the other house lessons went.”

A grin eased across his lips and once again since your last study session you caught Viktor glaring at your arm making you subtly inspect it thinking you had gotten something on it or torn your favorite maroon sweater. Wetting your lips you looked at Sebastian, who had just sent a glare in return to his brother’s at noticing it then grinned at you, “Are you two fighting?”

He shook his head, “No.”

“So, he’s mad at me then?”

Sebastian forced a quick grin onto his face then answered, “The symbol on your ring.”

Looking at Morfin’s ring you shifted your hand then looked to him again, “For the Deathly Hallows?”

His brow inched up and he repeated, “Deathly Hallows?”

You nodded, “It um, my ancestors, the Peverell Brothers, there’s a whole story on them.”

At his hand signal Viktor moved to your table and listened intently to the tale then tapped his finger on the back of your finger holding the ring, “That is Grindlewald’s symbol.”

“Oh, well he did search for them, the Hallows and failed, but it really isn’t his symbol. It’s centuries older than him.”

Viktor, “But he used it! And he killed thousands of our people! Including our Grandfather!”

At your dropping expression his rage dimmed and you replied softly, “I know what he did. I wasn’t aware of how he affected you, past his having attended Durmstrang.” Wetting your lips you paused then added, “I only wear it, it’s from my grandfather on my Mum’s side.” His head tilted slightly and you clarified, “My Mum left a protection charm on it for me.”

Their lips parted and Sebastian said, “If it is protection from your mother then do not trouble yourself with this.”

Viktor nodded after a deep sigh, “Your mother wore this symbol?”

You shook your head, “No, not that I know of, but the ring is passed down by bloodline. Anyone else would be burned wearing it.”

Viktor, “Very important aid to the protection. These Peverells, they do not sound like they followed his beliefs.”

Sebastian nodded and wrapped his hand around yours, “Do not trouble yourself, wear the ring.”

Viktor said, “I was not aware of the older tale. It is understandable why he would choose that symbol. Please accept my apology for my irritation, it was unjust due to your reasoning. Hermione merely mentioned you simply put it on one day.”

“Ya, I don’t really talk about Mum much.” Both brothers gave you knowing nods about losing their father. You looked to Hermione in her late entrance after Ginny had stopped her to share experiences on the dance lessons leaving them both reigning in their giggles on what the other had missed bringing them to your left to share the stories spreading the laughter.

Leaving the table for your free period however you and Sebastian strolled out to the clearing you had mentioned the day prior for a sighting of a band of Augreys finding nesting materials he had stashed a bundle of blankets to snuggle in the snow couch he was going to make for you both. Upon which he shared more about what he had hoped to do for the brief gap between graduation and the start of the Quidditch season, all of which he hoped to share with his sister followed by a mentioned thought of a visit together possibly if it could be worked out.

.

Hermione’s brows furrowed harshly in reading the article from Rita that insinuated that she was leaving Viktor for Harry. Strolling into the Great Hall comes over to Ron’s side, “Package for you Weasley.”

Ron grinned at him briefly then turned accepting the brown paper box, glancing back at Nigel he shook his head softly saying, “Not now Nigel.” Harry and Hermione looked at him while Nigel huffed and turned away to go sit by his brother, “I promised him I’d get him your autograph Harry.”

Harry chuckled and reached into his bag for a blank sheet of paper he hastily scribbled his name across that he folded into an airplane that soared over to Nigel earning a gleeful gasp from the young teen who pulled out his camera to snap a picture of Harry’s quick grin in a glance at him.

Pulling out an obscurely tomato vomit colored coat Ron stood, “Bloody…Mum sent me a dress.. Got to be a mistake…” Ron walks over to Ginny, “Mum sent this for you.”

Ginny, “I’m not wearing that! It’s ghastly!”

Ron looks at Hermione who is laughing, “What are you on about?”

Hermione, “They’re not for Ginny. They’re for you. They’re dress robes.”

Ron, “For what?”

On your way to share a note you found on one of the old Tournaments you stopped mid walk reaching out, “What the-?” Looking the robes over with curiously furrowed brows.

Ron, “I can’t wear these. Can you do something with these?”

You catch his eyes, “We’ve got spares at home. I’ll grab you a pair.”

In a relieved sigh his eyes rolled and you shook your head in another glance at the robe.

…

Fully decorated from the usual massive Christmas trees, wreaths and garlands between batches of mistletoe, that all couples stole a moment under in forced accidental passes, drew out the spirit of the holiday for all. All first and second years had left for the break along with a vast majority of third years, except for those lingering as relatives or dates for the elder students attending the Ball. In a flurry Christmas Eve arrived and as promised you would be sneaking home right after to spend the rest of the night with your father and uncles after having spent so long apart.

Straight through the dorm door you strolled making Ron jolt up out of his bed after having been waiting so impatiently for his robes from you. A twisted grin splitting on his face and he eyed the deep maroon robes making his mouth fall open, “It was either this or powder blue, all the others had magic pockets full of ribbons and confetti, thought this would be safer for you.”

He shook his head and chuckled accepting the hanger from you eying your pajama bottoms under your big baggy sweater all the way to your moose slippers, “No, no. It’s marvelous compared to that other one. Just about the right size.”

“Might be a bit long in the leg but Neville knows the tailor charms I used on his if you need them.”

Ron chuckled and wrapped you in a tight hug, “I’ll give it a try now.”

You raised a brow, “It’s barely lunch time, we have till 7.”

He nodded, “I know, just anxious.”

You nodded and said, “Go on then, might as well get the hem done now.” You sat on his bed and he hurried into the bath to change while your eyes closed and you smoothed your fingers around the patch of scars over your left eyebrow remembering the mystery blondes kissing you there at the end of another stranger filled dream. The opening of the door opened your eyes with it bringing not only Ron in his maroon robes but also Neville into your view looking at you with a concerned hint of a smile that eased when Ron asked, “You alright?”

You nodded, “You ever have one of those dreams where you get covered in honey or something and you can still feel it?”

Ron chuckled and nodded, “Every time they serve that yam porridge, same dream of getting a pie in my face. Takes hours to have the feeling go away.”

On your feet you neared him and drew your wand from the sheath you kept tucked in the end of your crooked braid to feign being unarmed hoping it might lull Igor into doing something stupid and revealing his big plan. A few gentle tugs and stretches of the fabric on the jacket left it fitting him perfectly before he removed it and you started on his shirt, vest and pants that left him beaming when you were through. Another tight hug later and you moved to accept one from Neville who said, “I know you’ll get plenty of offers, though Sirius did ask for a picture of us dancing.”

You nodded, “Yes, Draco too and Percy should be here, he was told as well.”

Neville, “Plan still the same, after the Ball we’re headed home for the night?”

“If you’d like, full Christmas. The Grangers and your parents and Nellie will be there too same as the Malfoys, even the Pears.”

Ron, “Really? How’d they get invited?”

You sighed, “Well it was either I invite them to Christmas or they continue trying to force themselves as chaperones.”

Neville, “No doubt they’d make you perform again.”

“Exactly. I’m a spectacle enough this year as it is.”

Ron chuckled, “Doubt McGonagall would ever let them past the pitch knowing how they are around you. Still, we all allowed too?”

“Are you allowed,” you scoffed back, “You don’t come your Mum will come drag you there by your ankles, she’s no doubt emptied the pantry on this one.” Making them both chuckle as you turned to go.

.

Along with the other girls you were off in your room back home where you all helped one another fix up your hair and makeup before wiggling into your dresses and shoes. Mostly pulled back in a bun with a sleekly curled section dangling from under the jeweled pins securing it all. Easing your side swept bangs behind your ear your eyes locked on your reflection as you raised your brush to add some eye shadow above your eyeliner giving the look a hint of shimmer to make your eyes a bit more adorned to fit the whole look. With a sigh you set the brush down and rested your chin in your palm next to Hermione in the same position after finally relenting her hair was the best she could manage in a style close to yours. “Straight O’s in all my OWLS and I’m absolutely useless in this.”

Hermione sighed, “I suppose it’s just something needed to be practiced on?” She shrugged, “I mean, how often will we be attending Balls?”

You shrugged, “Well it’s not a Celebration of Life in Versailles, actual dancing and celebrating.”

Hermione couldn’t help but giggle as you did, both drooping your heads until you stood at the alarm sounding for you to stand and help the other with final adjustments before Ginny hurried in with her dress on and two wraps she found in your closet, pink or white?”

Hermione grinned moving closer to look between the pair while you brought Ginny the lip gloss she had been eyeing earlier making her grin and twirl in place and accept help into the pink wrap going with her pink and green dress. In her trot to the mirror to apply it Luna came out with Angelina, both having gotten a bit carried away earlier and had to remove a fair bit of glitter from their dresses with Katie behind them. Luna in a sleeveless teal and the others in complimenting magenta gowns that started the trip down to the waiting guys anxiously waiting downstairs. Cho had already gone down to meet Cedric and inhaling deeply you accepted Ginny’s hand following her for the trip down after she said, “You both look magnificent come on. Anyone not staring at you both tonight are blind dolts.” Reaching out your hand linked with Hermione’s who giggled and hurried along after you, eager like you were to just get the start of the night over when everyone would be staring and commenting before you could vanish into the crowds.

.

Beaming at Harry when she came down the steps Ginny tucked her hand under his arm he offered her shifting his forest green robes, joining the twins Katie and Angelina in the group that turned to glance at the Krum brothers. Both clad in matching red jackets under brown fur capes draped over one arm dangling over their black pants and tall boots accented with red stripes, eagerly swallowing and fidgeting their fingers along the strap across their chests that they released instantly when you both came into view. The pair of you inhaled and couldn’t help but grin at the wide eyed star struck pair oblivious to the picture Draco snapped of them. Sending the image up to his room after having done the same with the picture of your entrance on the steps beginning with a pair of timid heads popping out into the stroll down the first few steps.

Hastily from under their capes they both pulled out matching bracelets, on a strand of pearls secured on ribbons matching your dresses sat a cloth rose from the same material they both secured around the hands you offered them they then eased around their elbows in a turn. Arm in arm you and your dates in their joint stammered compliments to you after your soft thanks for the gifted bracelets on the walk to join the other Champions.

Straight through the winter wonderland decorated Great Hall in the aisle formed by split groups of students the nine Champions too their places, though it took a moment for some to remember that two were actually dating leaving the couples at an even eight. Hands raised and in an alternating lift filled waltz the Ball was opened through walls of flashes capturing the motions of the couples in your own circles around the others while the first rotation ran through and clearly ended with Dumbledore leading Minerva out onto the floor.

One opening dance bled into a series of classic dances, each one bringing on more hushed conversations between the couples until you all broke to claim your seats for the feast. Champions all at one table alongside your dates with other tables packed with the other students all enjoying the hearty meals with goulash and stew offered filled with sugary treats to follow before the dance floor was opened again. A raucous greeting welcomed former students of Hogwarts turned rock stars the Weird Sisters came out dressed for the part and set off the second stretch of the Ball when the Professors stepped back allowing the teens to enjoy the collection of their hits performed live. Hours you all enjoyed the night until in a shared string of signals you all gathered to head to your enchanted doorway while the Krum brothers used another of your secret tunnels to sneak out and visit their mother and baby sister in Hogsmeade.

.

Decorated to the fullest your home welcomed you fully in an equally as wondrous effort to capture the usual fanfare for the holiday. Great grandparents included all greeted your group with hugs and smiles before you all moved to the tree in the sitting room. Every gift was opened and another round of food was served, after the clearing of that you joined your father into the crystal decorated ballroom.

Under the light of the moon and stars you both chuckled and giggled through the dances he led you through, the pair of you caught a soft glimmer across your skin and in your hair. Reminders of your ancestor who claimed him and his kin held stardust in your veins, a trait binding all Black Family members, always being able to sense how close you are to one another for the closest of your relations which could be solidified by a tattoo with the relative’s name and celestial body or symbol representing their name.

Yours being Pluto on the base of your father’s neck surrounded by your name, for you the choice of our own for him would be the Big Dog constellation he was named after, a dog that would run when you grew closer in search of him. As soon as you turned 17 as a sort of coming of age marker your uncle had secured plans for a tattoo artist to drop by and do the tattoos as well as those for securing the twins’ decisions for Phoenix as their Animagus you would also get. The date was settled and eagerly looked forward to by all of you, except for the Pears, who really hoped to have you keep your skin unmarked, as it seemed to make it easier for them to mistake you for their lost daughter. But eventually they calmed seeing the sketches of the tattoos you had chosen that weren’t that obnoxious in size and easily concealed by clothes.

Safe in your father’s side to the film playing on the screen your eyes closed and you had fallen asleep in the pile of teens across the lounging couches in your theater only to stir and groggily head back to the castle after parting hugs in time to wash up, change and head down for breakfast. A crashing hug greeted you from Sebastian, who kissed your cheek sweetly in the hall on the way to eating, “Morning, and thank you.” You giggled at his arm circling you brushing the sleeve of his plum sweater up against your now slightly askew grey sweater hanging over your thighs in his hold on you. “Cleo and mother were excited we could sneak out. I have a present for you.”

You giggled again, “Good, I’ve got one for you too.” His brow inched up and you grinned up at him, “Trust me, you have never gotten a gift like this before.”

“Ooh, any hints or am I left to guessing?”

“Guess away but you won’t get it.” Making him chuckle again.

All through breakfast he did guess and along with Fleur and her sister Gabrielle you brought your visiting friends for a gathering of your own in your dorm. The Beauxs quickly passed of their gift of dresses and cardigans to you accepting their blankets and Manticore plushies they had mentioned wanting before you had made for them, then both hurried off at the meeting Madam Maxime had called for her Champions.

There Viktor and Hermione swapped books along with a ring topped with a purple violet made of gems she promptly tugged him away for a few moments alone to react in private they both returned back blushing from.

Sebastian passed you a book from his sister and a collection of books and an earring for the piercings in the top of your ears, in yellow rose earrings with flat backs he gladly accepted your tight hug and kiss for. Eagerly he eyed the rectangular box you passed him topped with a bow, with a smirk he set it on his lap and he eased the end of the ribbon out only for the rest of it to unravel and the lid to fold itself back. At the miniature pitch revealing itself his lips parted and you scooted closer showing him the cards you had, both for the professional teams and the school teams.

Leaning in Viktor joined him in choosing two teams and watched as the figures for players popped up out of the pitch with personalized brooms in hand around the chest that popped up with tiny balls inside that the referee kicked open. When the first match the brothers had played was through giggles exploded from you at Sebastian’s over eager tackle hug he unleashed on you before he burst into a slew of questions on where you got it. The group had split up and while you led him to your room to fetch a picture of Tulip for him to give to Cleo at her clear interest in snakes Sebastian said, “Surely it must have cost a fortune for such a detailed model.”

You shook your head in a giggle answering, “Surprisingly affordable to make.”

His lips parted, “You made that?”

You nodded, “Yup. All our teams have one. Takes a while to get it all to work together but we found the right blend of charms and of course it took a while to get permission from the card manufacturers for us to copy their stats and pictures.”

Facing you fully he said, “You actually wrote the manufacturers? How much are they charging you?”

You shook your head, “They said the cards are public domain, as long as we aren’t actually copying their cards, we got it so the pitches can just use their cards, we only make the ones for the school teams. Ours for your teams are pretty blank, we only have what we’ve seen so far at our school.”

“Are you selling these?”

“We plan to.” A grin spread across his face drawing out his dimples as you sheepishly turned away in an awkward grin to return to looking for the picture at your hair turning mint green. “We actually have a contract that when we graduate a relative with a shop on Diagon Alley is going to sell us the shop, so we’ve been stockpiling and getting our goods together. A few of our candies and treats are still needing some perfecting but we’ve got time.”

“Not to mention your Lycan products.”

You nodded, “Yes.” Grinning wider at his arms circling your middle when he closed the distance between you to kiss your cheek.

“I cannot wait to see your shop. No interest in Quidditch professionally for you?”

You shrugged, “I haven’t had any offers. Oliver has though, Kenmare Kestrals, he seems eager about it.”

“No doubt with talent like yours at this school a great number of teams will be approaching you three.”

Peering up at him he kissed the tip of your nose and you smirked at him, “And how would you handle that, us having to face off?”

He kissed your nose again, “We would beat you,” you rolled your eyes and giggled at his tighter hug he lifted you in, “Again and again.”

“Keep telling yourself that Seb.” Chuckling again he shifted you in his arms and planted his lips on yours.

Pt 38

[lizziehatter]

Every revealed quote from CTD and the Thomas Novella

Since I cannot wait for the release of both of these and I am going through a Cressworth withdrawal (pls Kerri release this novella soon I beg), I put together all the quotes I know of. PLEASE CRESSWORTHIANS OBSESS OVER THEM WITH ME, I BEG YOU, BECAUSE I TRULY CAN’T WAIT UNTIL SEPTEMBER. Send me asks saying which ones are your favourites, making theories of what the quotes could mean or just freaking out over Cressworth being together in the bath honestly, I’m game for anything.

I - Thomas Novella

1) The opening quote: “The prince of darkness is a gentleman.” (King Lear, Act 3, Scene 4). Not really from Kerri’s writing (hello Shakespeare) but still counts right? 

2) "Blood spilled over my hands in warm, rhythmic torrents. For one drawn out moment, I was frozen, then my world narrowed to an equation. Sterile. Familiar. Calm. The exact opposite of my surroundings." 

3) “I longed to touch her. First her mind, then her heart, and, finally, her body. I wished to own every inch of space between us and fill it with each emotion I’d ever suppressed or pretended away. I wanted to strip my soul bare for only her to see, and then do the same with my clothing, giving her everything I had of me. Scars and all.”

4) “I thought of numerators and denominators and the incalculable way my heart raced as she slowly licked her lips as if she’d deduced the heat blazing through me, destroying my resolve to set her free.”

5)     “Thomas?” she asked, her eyes stubbornly fixed on my mouth. I was finding it hard to think, to breath. She wasn’t aware of it, but when she gave something her attention, the force of it was overwhelming. “Why are you sneaking about this early?” 

         To find salvation from my demons. To stop pacing inside the cage of my room and the fears that threatened to be my undoing. To feel the stinging prickle of snow on my face and forget there wasn’t a cure for my current condition. Her gaze was a palpable caress as she slowly shifted it downward, igniting a deep male need I was startled by. 

         “I’m not sneaking, I’m prowling, Wadsworth.” I gave her a lazy grin. It was an effort to keep my tone casual, to stop myself from trying to kindle her desire too. Though, judging from the longing in her expression, perhaps she’d fanned the flames on her own. “Why are you sneaking about?”

6) “I will not become a monster for you.” 

II - Capturing the Devil

PART 1 - QUOTES FROM THE CHAPTER SAMPLER (the sampler will be revealed at events that Kerri will attend). The sampler is probably 40 pages long, based on what Kerri said on twitter. Each quote follows the number of which page they are from. 

1) “Instead of being terrified of her imminent death and thinking only of darkness, my mother wrote us letters. She wouldn’t survive to see either of us____________" (Somewhere near page 4)

2) “Oh, Thomas. Are you all right?” A single tear slipped down his cheek as he nodded. (Page 4)

3) “A faint image bled through the fabric. I leaned in. “What is that?” He glanced down as if he hadn’t a clue, then shrugged”. (Page 7)

4) “There was a sadness in its face that made me wonder if it was truly an angel. Perhaps it was one of the fallen.” (Page 14)

5) “Do you honestly expect me to address that creature that way? Where did you even find it?” (Page 15)

6) “I thought the gift of my presence was your one true wish,” I said blandly. (page 16)

7) Once they’d left, Liza tapped the image in the magazine again. “Well?” (Page 28)

8) “Why are you smiling like that? I’m trying to have a serious moment and you appear as though you either need to use the loo or have inexplicably sat on an anthill in the middle of my room.” (page 35)

9) This excerpt is also a part of the chapter sampler, but not the ones that Kerri shared on twitter, so I don’t know in which page it’s located. Also, she shared this on her insta story, and parts of it were covered by the text that she wrote on top of the image, so this is my best guess on what was written. The () are the parts I couldn’t read.        

      I lost my futile battle with morality. () like a () who’d discovered his hearts’ deepest () claim it immediately. ()ized his respect for me and my () the only tethers holding him in place. One little nod would unleash him.

      My heart raced as I silently gave him permission, wanting him to touch me again so badly it almost ached. Thomas Cresswell never disappointed. He leaned into me, his body snug between my thighs.

      “Your nightgown is nice, but your lace is what attracts and captivates me.” His gaze travelled from mine, meandering down the road of delicate lace, igniting a new wave of desire as he gripped the sheer fabric at my hip. His touch was scorching. I couldn’t stop myself from arching into it, craving more. “Your body…” 

      His fingers lingered on the ribbons. I enjoyed () the garment and how I felt both bold and soft while wearing it. Thomas seemed to appreciate it for other reasons, and he was no longer masking how much he wanted me. I drew in a ragged breath and fought the urge to completely disrobe him. If he kept looking at me that way, I’d lose control.

      “Your spirit…”

      Thomas dragged his attention down every () leaving no part neglected, his breath hitching the lower (). If looks could consume, he’d just devoured me. 10) Now we know this part and the next are from the chapter sampler as well, thanks to the entire chapter (!) that was released with the cover, so I have moved them here.  “I pulled back and his focus shifted to where my bare shoulders met the water. His gaze darkened in a dangerously seductive manner, awakening a sudden need in me.         “At least be a gentleman and turn around.”         His expression hinted that he was far from a gentleman at the moment, and a quick inspection of my face confirmed I liked it. Excitement thrummed through my veins.” 11)       “My aunt will die from the scandal!”                                Thomas brushed a piece of hair from my face, then slowly moved his lips from my jaw to my ear and back, kissing my bare skin until I was convinced we soaked, unhurt, in a pool of fire, and each of my fears and worries of being caught burned away.                

            “Then we ought to be very quiet.”             He lifted me higher and I stared into his eyes, losing myself in the sensation of running my fingers through his damp hair. He looked at me like I was a goddess—like I was fire and magic and spell work combined in human form. I traced a finger down to his collar, teasing the first button open. I suddenly wanted to see more of him, I needed to. 12) The entire (!) Chapter 14 from CTD, which can be found here. PART II – QUOTES FROM THE REST OF THE BOOK

1) “He repeated my name across my skin like an incantation, his tone as reverent as those praising gods.”  

2) “He brushed his thumb over my lower lip, his voice smooth and alluring in the dim light. ‘If the world thinks we’re heading straight to hell, we might as well enjoy the journey there. I’d much rather dance with the devil than sing with angels. Wouldn’t you?’” 

3) “Before we left for the play you seemed to want—“

“—you, Thomas.” I pulled him to me, silencing his smart mouth with a kiss. 

4)  “I crumpled the letter and fed it through the ornate grate covering the fireplace, watching as its edges shifted from black to orange before fulling catching fire. I waited until it had disintegrated to ash before turning way.” 

5) "Except maybe I’d never been born with the devil in me as he'd suggested. Maybe my monster was more vampiric in nature. I did not crave death, I craved blood." 

6)   “If he wished for a taste of my darkness, I hoped he recalled poison could also be sweet. Sweeter than berry wine and more deadly than oleander. This rose welcomed her thorns, perhaps more-so than her petals.”

7) “__isting until my hands were covered in his sins.”

8) “Love is immortal. Death can neither touch nor steal it. Especially when it’s true."

9) “Who are you?” I asked, only half-jesting.

       He stopped walking. “I am the man who will love you unto forever.” 10) “At some point, we’re all someone’s hero and another’s villain.” 11) I leveled a cold look at him.                  “This isn’t a fairytale. I’m not a white knight or some morally incorruptible prince.”        “If you claimed to be either of those, I’d know one thing for certain.”                    “And that would be?”                  “That you’re a villain and a liar. Same as me.” 12)  “there is nothing in this world, no threat mighty enough to keep me from you.”

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

OC Interview

1. Choose an OC.

2. Answer them as that OC.

3. Tag 5 people to do the same. (Tag as many as you wish) Leaving this as an open tag, feel free to do it if you want!

@captainofthefallen said anyone could do this and well since she did her D&D character and mentioned mine in her interview I just have to share Kaimi now by default.

(Kaimi’s physical features are based on Keisha Castle Hughes.)

1. What is your name?

She holds out her hand for you to shake. “Kaimi.” Her tone and smile are warm, but also a little businesslike. She has an Irish accent, and there is something very grounded about her, even though she seems relaxed.

2. Do you know why you are named that?

“My name means the seeker. I was never sure why I was called that, since I never knew my parents. I was an orphan of the Empire. But recently I’ve learned things that make me wonder... if I was named that so I could seek out my people.”

3. Are you single or taken?

She blushes and smiles. “Taken.”

4. Have any abilities or powers?

She shakes her head. “Unless you count rounding up these numbskulls as a special ability... not really?”

5. Stop being a Mary sue.

“Sorry, my name is Kaimi, K-A-I-M-I.”

6. What’s your eye color?

Brown.

7. How about your hair color?

Brown.

8. Have any family members?

Biological, not that I know of. But I have my mother, who raised me, and my many siblings from the orphanage, and Sid, Alvyn, and Zia, my... well not officially adopted but my adopted children. Corda and Tharv feel like family. Corda’s my best friend.

9. Oh? How about pets?

She holds up a rather large dog. It looks like a husky, except there are three heads where there should be one. All three heads pant happily. “This is Cuchulain, he’s my baby boy. Raised him from a pup.” She puts the dog down and pets his heads. “And then there’s Thunder, my gray render.” She gestures to a large... something, a creature that’s like a cross between a jacked up hippo and a gorilla, with large rows of sharp teeth and yellow spider eyes.

The animal, Thunder, bellows gently and licks Kaimi with his large tongue. Kaimi laughs. “And then there’s Scales.”

“Fuck you!” an Australian-accented voice yells from offscreen.

“Kidding!” Kaimi replies cheerfully.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

Kaimi’s eyes get very hard and dark. “Wizards,” she says, her tone as light and sharp as a glass dagger. She does not elaborate.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

“I cook. I’m not too bad at it, if I may say so myself. Parenting this lot, which isn’t so much a hobby as a full-time job.”

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

“Yes.” Again, she does not elaborate. There is a heaviness to her tone.

13. Ever…killed anyone before?

“When I had to.” She pauses. “It’s not something I overall enjoy. But it comes with the territory, you know.”

14. What kind of animal are you?

Kaimi brightens. “Oh, I love these questions! I think I would be a capybara. They adopt animals that aren’t their own and mother them. They’re highly social and I think they’re quite cute. And they’re herbivores!”

15. Name your worst habits.

Kaimi chews on her bottom lip. Her voice, when she speaks, is a bit dull, as though she does not like to speak of this. “I’ll do anything to protect my family. Sometimes that means I can be... overzealous. And I’m... I’m rather cold-hearted. I try not to be. But I’ve manipulated people before, to achieve my goals. And I don’t regret it. I plan to do it again. To eliminate the Empire...” She shrugs. “I’ll do whatever it takes. And if that means lying or killing the right people or whatever in order to get it to fall... then that’s the price I pay. I’m a mastermind. It’s what I’m good at--not just people but, getting people to believe me and do what I say.”

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“My mother,” she says without skipping a beat. “She went through so much, lost two loves of her life, her son, raised this orphanage all by herself... she’s the strongest, kindest person I know.”

17. Are you gay, straight, or bisexual?

Kaimi cocks her head to the side, an amused smile on her face. “I think you’re forgetting a few. Asexual, demisexual... but for the record, I’m bisexual.”

18. Did you attend school?

“Not as such, although Mother would teach us all, we had lessons every day.”

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

There is a crash from another room, followed by a teenage male voice and a woman in her twenties both yelling, “EVERYTHING’S FINE!” simultaneously.

Kaimi sighs. “I think I’ve got enough kids already, don’t you?

“As for marriage... Talon isn’t... we haven’t really... it’s not. We’re not. Typical. I don’t know if we’d ever have a proper ceremony or anything. But I want to spend the rest of my life with him, and that’s what matters.”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

“I’m... what? What are those?”

21. What are you most afraid of?

“Losing the people I love.” That hard look enters her eyes again. “But it won’t come to that.” Her voice is once again light and sharp.

22. What do you usually wear?

Kaimi gestures at herself. “This.” She’s wearing light armor, well made, out of a metal that is both dark and shining. It was clearly made just for her, tailored to her body. “Talon made it for me. Along with these.” She pats the daggers at her hips. “It was his first gift to me.” Her voice shines with affection.

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

“My mother’s soup, oh my Guides, you need to try it.”

24. Am I annoying you?

“Not at all!”

25. Well, it’s not over!

Kaimi laughs. “Keep firing away, then!”

26. What class are you (Low/middle/high)?

“I was an orphan, so, quite low on the totem pole in the Empire. Now, I’m not sure. What class are hero-adventurers?”

27. How many friends do you have?

“Not many, but they’re good ones. Corda, Tharv, Ghazril, Keung... Scales when he’s not annoying me... So just the five, I suppose.”

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Pie is absolutely delish. Did you ask Corda about this? Is this why she’s asking me about pie?”

29. Favorite drink?

“A good red wine. People actually tend to assume I’m a lightweight.” Kaimi winks at you. “They’d be wrong.”

30. What’s your favorite place?

“It’s a tie. My mother’s orphanage, where I grew up, or...” Kaimi blushes, looking down at her fingers. “My bedroom with Talon, in Tharv’s shop.”

31. Are you interested in anyone?

Kaimi yells into another room. “Talon? Would you say I’m interested in you?”

“I assume so?” is the reply. “I mean if not that makes all the sex and love declarations kind of awkward.”

32. That was a stupid question…

Kaimi smirks. “Yes. Yes it was.”

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“I’ve never been to a lake, actually. I suppose the ocean, then. I’d like to try a lake, though.”

34. What’s your type?

“If we’re looking at my track record, psychopaths.”

35. Any fetishes?

“Now, now, you’ll have to buy me dinner first before you can ask those kind of questions.”

36. Camping or outdoors?

“Isn’t camping and outdoors the same thing?” Kaimi stands up, brushing off her lap. “It was lovely talking to you. Feel free to stop by any time. Don’t mind the Beholder, Tharv’s lovely and he won’t eat you.” She winks, and walks off to investigate the suspicious crashing from a few moments ago.

[queen-scribbles]

Interview Meme

1. Choose an OC.

2. Answer them as that OC.

3. Tag 5 people to do the same.

Tagged by @valleniel, gonna answer with Bry and use vall’s awesome art ;) Answering circa 17 ATC in “canon”(ie, Outlander!Vica, this is the one I’d be using if I ever write the fricking Brykar longfic)

And I’m not tagging five whole people, just @rannadylin with one of her many many OCs, and maybe if @storyknitter feels like doing it with another of her girls? and then open tag for anyone who wants to do it.

1. What is your name?

“Briyoni Nerai.”

2. Do you know why are you named that?

She shrugs. “My mom thought it sounded pretty? I think maybe it’s a character in a novel she liked.”

3. Are you single or taken?

Something flickers in her eyes that looks almost like worry and she hesitates ever so slightly. “...Taken.” She pinches the base of her ring finger and murmurs, almost too quiet to hear, “I hope.”

4. Have any abilities or powers?

She snorts a laugh. “You think I got to be commander of Havoc  ‘cause of my looks? I”m good at CQC, a damn good shot, tougher’n most of the nerf-herders I’ve met in my life, and have really good instincts.”

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

An eyeroll. “I don’t think that means what you think it does.”

6. What’s your eye color?

She waves one hand toward her face. “Blue.”

7. How about your hair color?

A raised eyebrow as she politely refrains from asking if the interviewer is blind. “Black.”

8. Have any family members?

Her eyes darken and she crosses her arms. “Parents. There used to be a Jedi older sister, but she died ‘fore we ever got to meet so I don’t know if she counts.”

9. Oh? How about pets?

“Nah. I travel a lot, and my ship’s not great for any kind of animal, so there’s no point.”

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

Her eyes darken further, going stormy and almost navy blue, and her fingernails dig into her arms. “Kriffin’ bureaucratic red tape. Been the death of way too many good people.” 

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

Her rigid posture relaxes slightly and she half-smiles. “Kicking my boyfriend’s tail at dejarik.  Hangin’ out with Sayna--my best friend, before you ask.”

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

A snort. “Yeah. plenty.”

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

“Havoc Squad, remember? So another yeah, plenty on that. All of ‘em deserved it, though.”

14. What kind of animal are you?

She frowns slightly, then shrugs. “I’m guessing you mean if I were to compare myself to an animal what would I be? Manka cat.”

15. Name your worst habits?

“Depends on who you ask. Some are gonna say I’m too blunt, others’ll point to the snark and sarcasm, my former CO would probably bring up my habit of following my conscience rather than her orders, and there’s at least one person out there who’d complain about my tendency to sleep til noon. But he likes getting up at the ass-crack of dawn, so clearly there’s something wrong with him.Oh, and there might be a couple good natured complaints about me stealin’ clothes.”

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Her lips twist in a sour look. “There have been people, yeah. My parents, Jace Malcolm.... but people keep disappointin’ me. I guess Dorne’s the only person left I’d say I ‘look up to’. Leaving the Empire like she did took a hell of a lot of guts. And then she convinced her brother to do the same thing. She’s pretty cool.”

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

“Straight.”

18. Do you go to school?

“Not anymore. Joined the military straight outta high school.”

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

She curls back in on herself, expression closing off. “For a long time I didn’t.” She pinches the base of her finger again. “Still not sure about kids, ‘specially with the way things are right now, but gettin’ married... gettin’ married would be nice.”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

She smirks, the melancholy of a few seconds ago gone. “Does my boyfriend count?”

21. What are you most afraid of?

She shakes her head, biting her lip so hard it almost draws blood. “That’s.... next question.”

22. What do you usually wear?

“My uniform when I’m on duty. Off-duty’s usually a shirt, leather jacket, pants, and boots.  The shirt showing varying levels of midriff depending on my plans for the day.”

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

“Anything sweet, really.”

24. Am I annoying to you?

“....Maybe a little.”

25. Well, it’s still not over!

“Damn.”

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

”My family would probably be considered lower end middle class.”

27. How many friends do you have?

“Not many. My job’s hard on all relationships, not just romantic ones. There’s Sayna, and Dorne’s a pretty good friend, and Forex, if droids count, but that’s about it.”

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

“That would fall under the category of sweet things, meaning my opinion is yes, please, as much as you can give me.”

29. Favorite drink?

Another smirk, as if at a private joke.. “Daranu. Or caf.”

30. What’s your favorite place?

"On my boyfriend’s couch, my legs in his lap, each of us nursin’ a beer or whatever while we watch huttball or grav-ball or something. Extra nice if my team kicks his team’s butt.”

31. Are you interested in anyone?

“The aforementioned boyfriend,” she says slowly, eyebrow raised.

32. That was a stupid question…

“You said it, not me.”

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“Depends on the lake and the ocean.”

34. What’s your type?

“Dark-haired, flirty SIS agents who’re really good kissers and let me steal their jackets without too much complaint.”

35. Any fetishes?

She smirks. “None of your damn business.”

36. Camping or outdoors?

“Don’t care. I can sleep anywhere.”

--------------------

In case it’s not clear, this is after Denon fell to the Eternal Empire, Jonas’ team was still there, and since the Republic’s “Trying to keep their nose clean”, so no rescue plan, she doesn’t know if he’s okay yet(hey, look I sorta did angst :D)

[mtvswatches]

Jane the Virgin 1x03 Chapter Three

Spoilers disclaimer (please read before sending messages or writing comments.)

Stray thoughts 

1) The style of the “previously on” is very similar to the ones done in actual telenovelas, minus the narration. And on that note, I was wondering if the narrator will always be reliable or whether he will trick the viewers at some point? So far, he’s been reliable, but I guess there’s not much to base that argument on, you know?

2) Jane’s wishes, though…

#priorities

3) I really love how both her mom and her grandma have a great influence on her without being overbearing. She listens to both of them, and her decisions seem to fall somewhere in the middle.

4) I’m guessing Gina Rodriguez uttering these words…

…is part of a lot of people’s fantasies, right?

Also, I’m kind of surprised it took her so long to think of this “loophole”. Like, I thought they would bring it up in episode 1, but okay.

5) Could Petra have killed Zaz, though? The answer can’t be so straightforward, but we don’t have any clues yet… She doesn’t seem to be heartbroken, though.

6) The narrator keeps asking us to “trust” him, and I’m here like, hmmmm, maaaaaaybe?

7) Will Sin Rostro be someone we already know? Or someone that we haven’t met yet but who’s related to some of the main characters?

8) How will getting private messages from Petra – who is a suspect of murder – make Michael – the detective investigating the case – look? Someone is bound to find out.

9) Her fucking heartbeat started racing when she touched his arm…

10) Why was Rose so fascinated with Jane, though? And Luisa is a naughty girl, isn’t she?

11) How is Michael going to explain this one?

12) “But instead he lied.” Of course he did. Can’t say I’m surprised.

13) “I'm dismissing you 'cause you're not making any sense. You're, like, hormonal or something.” And you know what, Michael?

But in all seriousness, this is some serious gaslighting right here, isn’t it?

14) I mentioned this in my previous recap, but I really enjoy how honest Rafel and Jane are with each other and how much they value each other’s opinions. I’m keeping my fingers crossed super hard that this doesn’t change once they get together (I’m guessing they will because duh.)

JANE: I'm judgey. You should know that about me. You may end up having a really judgey kid.

RAFAEL: Okay, so what does "judgey" sound like? So that I can be prepared.

JANE: You told me that you don't want to be anything like your dad, which is easy enough to say. But actions are what count. So, what are you doing about it?

RAFAEL: I hope the baby's judgey.

And let’s see what he does about it, right?

15) I really love that Alba is traditional but not old-fashioned or too set on her ways. Like, she seems to be super cool with her daughter sleeping with her old flame in her own house (she even covered up for them in front of Jane.) And she’s so excited when Xiomara gets the presents from Rogelio? (This guy is truly clueless, isn’t he?) I like you, Alba.

16) Seriously, Rogelio.

17) Yeah, completely logical suggestion. Sound advice, sound advice.

18) Michael is a complete idiot, okay? Who in their right mind would tamper with his own investigation’s evidence just to avoid her girlfriend from keeping a baby?

19) Oh, Rogelio, Rogelio…

He’s so clueless, but I think he might be one of my favorite characters so far.

20) I really loved that when faced with a similar situation to the one Michael faced – the possibility of telling a lie that would inevitably snowball – Jane chose to come clean. That’s kind of refreshing.

21) I love how all of Alba’s resolve melts down the second she sees Rogelio in his glorious El President outfit. He is a charmer, though. And Alba was swayed so easily, I loved it.

22) So Petra got Jane and Michael the suite… is this a favor she intends to cash back?

23) Am I… am I watching Crazy Ex Girlfriend now?!

24) I like how Xiomara and Alba play the devil and angel on Jane’s shoulders, but they’re both good people with good intentions, it’s just that they have very different outlooks on life and very different parenting styles.

25) Well, you’d have to be dead for her heart not to pound like crazy after dancing like this with this hottie…

I don’t ship it yet, though. I wonder if I will because I don’t usually ship the pairings that the shows try to shove down your throat from episode one, and Rafael and Jane are clearly that. I tend to prefer the underdog romantic interest, the unexpected I-never-saw-that-coming-but-the-chemistry-was-impossible-to-ignore one. So we’ll see how it goes with this show.

26) So, Rose enjoys the sordid tryst with her step-daughter, but it’s only that. I can’t see Luisa being okay with this. And how long can you call what they have “temporary”? It seems this has been going on for a long time…

27) Saved by the bell, literally.

28) Alba’s words are meant to be accepting and supportive, but they have a different effect on Jane, they forced her to face her feelings, the fact that she’s not so sure Michael is the man she wants to marry…

Mi amor, quería decirte algo. Aún cuando cometas este pecado mortal, yo te sigo queriendo. Te guardaste para el hombre con el que te vas a casar, el hombre del que estás segura. Y me da gusto que no me hayas mentido, te quiero mucho.

29) Her heart, though…

30) Oh Petra, you’re fucked…

PETRA: Hey, did you ever get in touch with Aaron?

RAFAEL: Aaron?

PETRA: Zaz's brother. You mentioned him this morning.

NARRATOR: He had not got in touch with Aaron. In fact, Rafael's search for Zaz's brother had been stymied by one simple fact. Until this moment, he never knew his name.

31) Oh, Jane, you lied to Michael… tsk, tsk…

32) And it backfired…

MICHAEL: We'll wait, then. But what are we waiting for? I-I love you. You're the person I want to be with. So there's no reason why we can't move the wedding up, right?

33) Of course Petra is manipulating Michael, in what world did white loaf bread could possibly believe he’d be able to call the shots in this scenario? I gotta wonder, though, could the murderer been her mum? I mean, I can totally picture her pulling a Spike - pretending she’s in a wheelchair so that she can get away with stuff. Hmmm.

34)

The narrator seems surprised, but even before that, I had the feeling that “XO” doesn’t stand for Xiomara, maybe just your regular XOXO? From what I’ve seen of Rogelio so far, I can totally believe him deciding to send the pre-made gift basket thinking that she would totally love it, without giving it a second thought. Dude is totally self-absorbed, so I can’t picture him going out of his way to get her a personalized, meaningful present like the bracelet. That ought to have been a mistake of some kind.

Thing is, whether I’m right or wrong, this definitely makes the narrator less than omniscient. He was thrown off by the bracelet. So maybe it’s not so that he is unreliable but that he doesn’t see the whole picture... 

Yes, I know, I’m way too obsessed with the role of the narrator, I just find it fascinating okay?

35) Does your wish come true if the firefly dies on your hands?

36) I enjoyed this episode, I really like where the stories are going, but I was fully expecting another huge plot twist. Onto the next one!

37) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

38) This recap is dedicated to @capitalnineteen , who requested first on this post! Thank you for showing your support!

[kittykatconundrum]

all the questions for main trio :D

HOOOO boy long post ahead. it was fun tho.

1. What is your character’s greatest secret?Does your character have good aim?

all 3 of them do, but ray’s aim is probably the most precise.

2. What would history remember your character for?

wink wonk

3. Does your character prefer to work in silence or with noise and of what kind?

Moiren and Ray: silence

Hayve: Quiet ambience, but it doesn’t really matter what type. As long as it’s quiet, cause otherwise he’ll get distracted.

4. Has your character ever been handcuffed or tied up?

Moiren and Ray: no

Hayve: He’s been “handcuffed” but it was rope, not a handcuff. “Tied up” isn’t the right word for it tho lol

5. Can your character cook?

all of them can, but none of them are good at it. Hayve is probably the best but he’s still not great.

6. Do any of your characters have depression?

Yea. Of the “main three,” Ray definitely has it but Moiren probably has a much more minor case of it.

8. Who has the worst luck?

It’s probably safe to say all 3 of them, but prob Moiren or Ray. Of all my ocs, Aisa and/or Alistair.

9. Could your character win an arm wrestling competition? How well would they do?

Moiren: She could, unless it’s against a really strong person. She’d do okay– she’s strong for her age but not like, super strong.

Ray: He isn’t as strong as Moiren, but he’s still decently strong so he could potentially win. He might not even try to win though, so he’d lose.

Hayve: He could definitely win. Especially if he could earn money out of it.

10. Would your character give up the chance to come back to life as a god so that someone else could be saved?

It’s a yes all around the board– though, it depends who the other person would be. Ray would be the most likely to do it regardless of the person, and Moiren the least.

11. What is your character’s favorite historical or fairy tale figure?

ray’s would be the witch and warrior duo from a legend  his mom told them when they were kids.

12. Would your character marry someone their family didn’t approve of?

i mean, all of them probably would, but considering they are each other’s family it would take a lot for one of them to not approve of someone

13. Do/Did any of your characters have large ears they had to grow into as a kid?

moiren and ray: not particularly

hayve: no, but his head was Big as a toddler

14. Are any of your characters nonverbal?

not as of now, though in an early draft of the story, ray was

15. Did your character ever want to be a cowboy?

moiren and ray: no

hayve: no, he wanted to be a pirate

16. How does the way your character present themselves in public differ from how they are in private?

moiren: she comes off as very cold/mean/uncaring/apathetic in public, and tho she isn’t the NICEST person out there, in private (aka mostly with her brothers) she does genuinely care about things and she can be gentle. or she can be mean but it’s with love.

ray: he is unbelievably shy but in private he can get more.. mouthy. like, he doesn’t really hesitate to shut someone down if they’re being dumb (looks @ moiren).

hayve: he acts very confident about everything but he Is Not

17. How petty is your character?

moiren: Very Petty

ray: he’s not really petty

hayve: moderately

19. Does your character like carrots?

moiren and hayve are indifferent to them, Ray does not like them but he tolerates them because it’s Food

20. How self-confident is your characters?

moiren: meh. she has some self-confidence, but she also looks down on herself a lil too much.

ray: he barely has any

hayve: he underestimates himself a bit

21. Do any of your characters have heterochromia?

nope. i was considering giving nile heterochromia for a little, though.

22. Do any of your characters have someone named after them? Or are they named after someone else?

moiren was almost named after someone, but in the end she wasn’t.

23. Do any of your characters have facial markings?

ray has an old scar on his forehead, but it’s barely visible and also hidden behind his bangs.

24. What is your character’s opinions on squirrels?

moiren: she believes that they are all low-key evil

ray: he feels guilty the times he has to eat them

hayve: he doesn’t really care either way. sometimes they hunt em

25. Does your character experience sexism for the job/title they hold? (ie: she’s a girl, she can’t be x,y,z because only boys can be)

moiren’s probably experienced some, but like not a LOT. she’s more likely to get comments based on being a young (16 year-old) girl doing some tougher jobs than ray is even though they are literally the same age

26. Are any of your characters missing fingers?

no but that’s a Good Idea

27. Does your character know how to tie different kinds of knots?

yes, but ray is probably the best at it.

28. How much does your character giggle?

moiren and hayve: they both snicker more than giggle

ray: a pretty decent amount and it’s Adorable

29. Are any of your characters nameless? (In that there is no legal record of them existing, they just don’t have names in canon, or history remembers them but not their name?)

technically there wouldn’t be any legal record of moiren and ray, i have some characters that probably won’t get names in canon because they are minor, and there’s some characters that are nameless to history

30. How independent was your character as a teen?

moiren: she’s pretty independent, though she does do a lot of things with ray (or hayve, but typically if she’s doing things “alone” it’s with ray.)

ray: same as moiren

hayve: he basically took over the role of guardian for moiren and ray when he was a teen so he was pretty independent. he had to be.

31. How much does your character care about their appearance?

all of them care a little, but there’s only so much they can care when on the road

32. Do you have any characters who are twins?

moiren and ray are twins. there’s one more set of twins, but only one of them is actually gonna be a character in the story. The other one does come up, though.

33. Does your character like math? How good are they at it?

hayve probably likes math the most, but none of them are good at like. complex things. they each know enough to survive in the world tho

34. Do any of your characters collect sea-shells or wear shell jewelry?

hayve collects sea-shells a little. he did more-so as a kid.

35. Naptime, yes or no?

moiren: no.

ray: In Theory

hayve: nope.

36. Would your character prefer to sit around and chill or be up and moving and doing something?

moiren: Definitely doing something

ray and hayve: a little of both

37. Did any of your characters have a fever they almost died from as a child?

technically not a fever, but moiren and ray were premature and moiren’s lungs were weak so as a newborn she was bouncing back and forth a little

38. Does your character worry about breaking the rules and getting in trouble?

none of them really do, though ray is the most nervous about it.

39. Do any of your characters have the responsibilities of an adult despite being a child, or did they when they were?

they all do, but hayve the most. I mean, at 14/15 years old he basically became the caregivers for his younger siblings and had to figure out everything so…

40. If a loved one died, how long would they stay in mourning?

all of them would struggle with it and mourn for a VERY long time.

41. Do other people around your character dictate their life or do they get to choose for themselves?

i guess you could say that moiren, ray and hayve each impact each other’s lives but to some extent they choose for themselves? A lot of it is just based on survival, though.

42. Did/do any of your characters have an arranged marriage?

yes.

43. Do you have any widows/widower characters?

the troye mom™ was technically widowed but she’s dead now too so like. does that count?

44. Are any of your characters overshadowed by other siblings? Or have parents who clearly have a favorite? (ex: Boromir and Faramir)

ray sometimes feels overshadowed by moiren and hayve, but not always

45. Would your character kill someone to get what they want?

moiren and hayve: depends

ray: no

46. Does your character prefer to lead or follow?

moiren: lead

ray: follow

hayve: lead

47. Has your character ever stolen anything?

all of them have, but hayve has The Most

48. Are any of your characters apprentices?

technically ameryli is? was?

49. Are any of your characters certified Bird Nerds ™?

nile could probably be considered a bird nerd but she’s also just a Nerd

50. Are any of your characters Good Dads ™?

in theory.

51. Do any of your characters have grandparents who are named and living in canon?

yes!

52. Would your character prefer to have history know the truth or have many different versions of their life?

moiren: different versions

ray: truth

hayve: he honestly wouldn’t be sure

53. What if the furthest your character has ever walked in a given stretch of time?

considering they’d sometimes travel for a day at a time, pretty far. i don’t know an actual distance though, that’s too much work.

54. Would your character prefer to visit a new city or stay at home?

all three of them are tired of new cities and want a Home

55. Do you have any characters who despite trying their best ended up being horrible parents?

probably

56. Do any of your characters have step-family?

I guess you could call Moiren and Ray’s biological dad Hayve’s stepfather? He never really considered him that, though. It was more like he was just his dad, or at the very least his adoptive dad.

57. Do any of your characters consistently wear hats? 

…none..

58. Does your character prefer the ocean or the mountains?

moiren and ray: mountains

hayve: ocean

59. What kinds of things does your character use as paperweights?

moiren probably wouldn’t use anything. Ray would probably use pens, and hayve would use seashells

60. If faced with certain death, would your character continue to speak out against injustice?

moiren and hayve probably wouldn’t, ray might

61. Have any of your characters struggled with addiction?

yea (some of these “have any of your characters” aren’t talking abt moiren/ray/hayve but just. other characters from disintegrating. including this one. doesn’t ask who tho-)

62. Have any of your characters adopted anyone?

i mean moiren/ray’s dad basically adopted hayve. also you could argue aisa technically (temporarily-) adopted someone?

63. How far would your character go to help those in need?

moiren: it depends on who that person was

ray: pretty far, if he could

hayve: far enough that it didn’t put anyone else in danger, including himself

64. Do your characters know any old blind swordsmen per the trope?

nope

65. Is your characters energetic?

moiren: nope

ray: nah

hayve: kinda

66. How much of a disappointment/scandal to their family is your character?

FJLDSAHKFADG

67. Would your character be willing to do something they consider morally wrong in order to achieve their goals?

moiren and hayve might (though depends on what said goals were), ray wouldn’t.

68. Are any of your characters intimidatingly beautiful?

gaelin thinks nile is intimidatingly beautiful

69. Has your character ever found themselves in with the wrong crowd and had to attempt to break from it?

not really but kinda?

70.  Does your character have any guarded/secret guild knowledge or family recipe?

nope

71. How good is your character at reading people and navigating social situations?

moiren: not the best

ray: he will self destruct

hayve: he’s great and the lifeline of this family

72. Would your character care for someone who needed it if it meant being ostracized from their society?

arguably, they’re not part of a “society” but ray probably would try, hayve may if it’s safe for his lil bro and sis, and it’s all situational for moiren

73. Has your character been to/ ever explored any ruins?

not ruins in what this question is probably meaning, but they’ve passed through the remnants of towns and such that don’t exist anymore.

74.  Are any of your characters associated with flowers?

for some reason, i associate lilies with moiren, carnations (specifically pink) for ray, and chrysanthemums with both of them. basically, funeral flowers lmao

75: Do any of your characters wear glasses, sunglasses, goggles, or monocles?

nile originally had goggles, but i doubt i’m keeping that because i wanna redesign her outfit

76: Would your character like to live on a farm and raise sheep?

All Three Of Them Would

77. Have any of your characters had to kill a friend?

uhhhhhhhhhh technically yes. (again, not moiren/ray/hayve).

78. Have any of your characters been exiled from their society? 

again technically yes???

79. What is a humanizing thing about a villain/antagonist/generally horrible person character that you have?

it’s what they were raised to believe

80. Was your character ever considered shy?

moiren and ray: yes (and it’s true tbh)

hayve: Nope.

81. Does your character look like what others think they should from their reputation?

moiren: probably? but hayve teases her that she looks nicer than she is because she looks like ray

ray: yea

hayve: Definitely

82. Describe your character’s handwriting.

Moiren writes with small letters, but they get jumbled together sometimes because she writes quickly. Ray also writes with small letters but they are very narrow and he has very deep curls that loop on themselves on letters like g/j/y. Hayve has large lettering that are very wide and circular.

83. Did/do any of your characters start a dynasty?

nah

84. Do any of your characters have gaps in their teeth or are missing teeth?

not really

85. Has your character ever been led down the wrong path because of their anger?

moiren: probably

ray: not yet

hayve: no

86. Is your character’s fear reaction to fight, flight, or freeze?

moiren: fight

ray: freeze

hayve: fight or flight, depending on if he’s alone or with others.

87. What are your character’s nails like?

all three of have like. at the very least slightly chipped nails that aren’t gonna be perfect ever because they… live out in The World, but Hayve’s are probably the worst.

88. Are any of your characters part of a spy network?

nope

89. Would your character throw themselves in harms way to protect a loved one?

moiren: yes

ray: yes

hayve: Definitely

90. Can your character start a campfire?

they all can, but surprisingly despite being the only one doing it for a few months in the past, hayve is Terrible at it. Moiren is probably the best at it

91. Does your character engage in gossip?

nope, and even if they did there’s not really much to gossip about lmao

92. Have any of your characters started and/or led a revolution?

nope

93. Do you have any characters that are stuffed animals? Or characters who have them?

ci has a stuffed bear named fluffypants (not her name lmao) that she picked up after the kid who had lost it.. lost it. he was named as such because one of his legs was replaced so he has two different colored legs, and also he’s fluffy (tho less now after 6+ years)

94. Are any of your characters mechanics?

there isn’t really machinery so that doesn’t exactly…exist

96. Which character is The Proudest ™ of their kids?

Hayve Is Proud of his brother and sister who he like technically raised for the past 6 years

97. Do any of your characters have a tendency to dislocate joints?

idk if it’s a “tendency” but moiren’s done it before. Also, Ameryli.

98. Has your character ever had to question their beliefs and realized they were wrong?

wink wonk

99. Do any of your characters have social anxiety?

yes. Ray has it Bad and honestly Moiren has it a lil too. Klement probably has a minor case of it

100. Are any of your characters queer?

yes, but i’m still debating showing most of em in the comic itself (mostly bc of the nature of the comic..) but gaelin and nile are a canon queer couple!

101. Which character is The Most dramatic?

gaelin.

102. Are any of your characters d/Deaf or HoH?

no but maybe one will be by the time i finish the comic?

102. What is your character’s greatest source of guilt?

moiren: a Thing that she did when she was 9

ray: he feels like he put moiren and hayve through a lot when he was at his lowest point and that makes him feel rlly guilty (despite also knowing its stupid to feel guilty abt it??)

hayve: in general he just doesn’t feel like he’s done enough for ray and emmy

103. How well does your character deal with their anger?

moiren: Not Very Well. she lashes out

ray: Also not well, but his is more internal

hayve: honestly he’s one of the best of my oc’s at managing his anger

104. Do any of your characters have pottery as a hobby?

no but ameryli discovered it she would probably Love it

105. Favorite winter activity?

moiren: she would probably enjoy sledding

ray: Snowman building

hayve: All Of It

106. Do any of your characters have noticeable acne?

i mean like probably but i can’t draw it so

107. Do any of your characters feel confined by their lives and the expectations placed upon them?

you could say that all 3 of them do? not so much expectations but none of them really wanna be traveling around as much as they do just to survive. at this point though, it’s all moiren and ray know.

108. Are any of your characters dogs?

No, but there’s a Cat. Originally she was a demon cat but that doesn’t really fit into the current mold of the comic so now she’s a normal cat. Her name is still Demon tho 109.

109. Would your character blackmail a god?

moiren: i mean like.. probably

ray: probably not?? he’d be scared

hayve: it depends on why he would need to

110. What color is associated with your character?

moiren: darker neutral colors, but also a light green

ray: dark red

hayve: blue

111. Do any of your characters have dogs for pets?

no but Maybe Soon

112. Does your character believe in wishing fountains and shooting stars?

moiren: not anymore

ray: he wishes he could

hayve: nope

113. Would your character commit treason if the law was wrong?

moiren: probably

ray: treason? maybe not

hayve: yea

114. Do any of your characters insist on going by their fullname rather than a nickname?

Moiren insists but also she really doesn’t care, she’s just embarrassed by “Emmy.” she won’t comment if she’s called “M,” though

115. Do any of your characters have an honorary father figure?

would hayve’s (adoptive/step) father count??

116. Have any of your characters (almost) drowned?

no, but moiren and ray have experienced it through the Friendly Neighborhood Ghosties

117. Could your character build a house or possess the knowledge to build one?

none of them really could……….

118. Have any of your characters come from a position of privilege that they’ve never had to examine?

i mean like……………probably??

119. If someone made a statue of your character, what would it look like?

it would look like… them? I don’t really get this question

120. Do any of your characters have PTSD?

technically, moiren has it but i need to read into it more before Really setting on that

121. Do any of your characters have prosthetics?

no

122. What is your character’s greatest secret?

wink wonk

123. Did any of you characters have nannies or governesses growing up?

nope

124. Does your character workout?

you could argue that all 3 of them do because they work on or practice their magic 

125. Who is your token cis, straight, (optional: white) male?

i mean. Alistair? maybe.

126. Are any of your characters on good terms/still friends with an ex?

yes!

127. Has anyone ever stolen your character’s identity or impersonated them?

no

128. Has your character’s home ever been destroyed?

yes

129. Has your character ever had to compromise on what they thought was right in order to maintain peace?

moiren: she Will Not

ray: yes

hayve: he will be stubborn about it but maybe

130. Do you have any characters who are retired?

in theory but not in practice

131. Who is redhaired and has a mustache?

??? gaelin has red hair but. not a mustache?

132. Who is the precious cinnamon roll?

Raymonnnnnnn

133. Have any of your characters ever been caught in a fire or explosion?

mara died in a fire

134. Has your character ever been alone in a hostile environment and been forced to travel a long way to reach a safety that wasn’t for sure?

not alone, but moiren, ray and hayve have definitely experienced this (probably multiple times since they’ve been aimlessly traveling for,… 6 years)

135. Would  your character be content to go back to a normal and quiet life after going on an adventure?

honestly that’s all they want now. Hayve might eventually get bored of it, though

136. Has your character ever been forced to deal with the ‘I want to speak to your manager” kind of person?

they’ve worked for a lot of people so like yeah probably lmao

137. Are any of your characters bipolar?

not explicitly but i’m bipolar and i wrote them so maybe rip

138. How good is your character with money and accounting?

moiren: she’s decent

ray: he’s decent

hayve: he’s Good

139. Has your character ever survived a fatal wound?

“fatal” usually means that it wasn’t survivable at all, but since i know what the question means the answer is no for all 3

140. Can your character play an instruments?

nope, none of ‘em learned how

141. Who has a weapon collection?

probably.. ameryli?

142. Do any of your characters use wheelchairs, transportation devices, or mobility aids?

no

143. Has your character ever had some part of their culture made illegal?

not really

144. Are any of your characters adventurers by trade?

by trade? no

145. How much first aid and medical knowledge does your character have?

enough to deal with minor-ish injuries, but hayve probably has the most experience between them

146. Were any of your characters disowned or abandoned by their parents?

technically, maybe?

147. Do any of your characters have albinism?

not albinism technically, but aisa has white hair

148. Do any of your characters have an eating disorder or food contamination phobia?

not really

149: How good is your character at lying?

moiren: so-so. she has some tells that are really obvious to ray, and sometimes hayve

ray: he’s good when he wants to be, and really bad otherwise

hayve: he’s pretty good

150. Do any of your characters have to deal with family being concerned more about appearances and reputation than personal wellbeing?

some did

151. Would your character ever go cliff diving

moiren: oh probably not

ray: Definitely not

hayve: ……….potentially

152: Do you have any characters with the jr. sr. I II or III thing?

no, mostly because it Confuses Me

153: Do any of your characters embody the spirit of a flapper? (Bonus points for style and or lifestyle)

i mean. probably not but im too tired to remember what that would mean…

154: How much does your character care about other people respecting their authority?

none of them really have authority so they.. don’t… expect anything.. .

155: Does your character cut and/or color their hair for any specific reason?

not currently

156: Were/Are any of your characters under less pressure and fewer expectations than their siblings?

technically you could say moiren and ray are under less pressure than hayve simply because… well, he was a lot older than her

157: Do any of your characters live on their own?

Klement lives completely alone

158: Have any of your characters even been bit by a zombie or rabid animal or otherwise exposed to a deadly pathogen? (Did any of them survive?)

if you wanna classify rot as a pathogen, then papa troye had it and he did not survive

159: Does your character have any tattoos? And are any of them symbolic or significant?

nope.

160: Do any of your characters have asthma?

moiren and ray technically do, but it never acts up anymore.

161: Your character’s opinion of pineapple?

moiren and ray love it, hayve hates it

162: Has your character ever thrown a tantrum over things not going their way?

as kids, all three of them probably have

163: Are any of your characters autistic? (If so, do they have special interests and what are they?)

nah

164: Are any of your characters tinkerers or inventors?

nile is probably the closest thing to a tinker

165: Who is a “girls just wanna have fun” character?

none of them really, but ci is probably the closest

166: Are any of your characters blind or visually impaired?

perhaps a future character might. haven’t decided yet

167: Are any of your characters fat?

yea

168: Is your characters easily embarrassed?

moiren: in theory no

ray: y e s

hayve: he pretends not to be and that helps

169: Are any of your characters married to the sea?

what does this mean. hayve.

170: Are any of your characters infamous?

y…es?

171: Are any of your characters hallmark villains in terms of personality?

hopefully not lol

172: Do any of your characters hold a grudge against someone?

yea

173: How loyal is your character?

moiren, ray and hayve are all really loyal, but moiren probably more-so

174: Does your character get homesick?

all 3 of them do, but at the same time none of them can clearly remember what their home was like

175: Are any of your characters badass (lesbian) pirate queens?

God I wish, but no. I did once have an au where hayve was basically a badass (gay) pirate… captain? though

[tinypurpleparrot]

Fanfiction Writer Asks

Fuck it, I’ll do it myself, because I know I can’t count on you nerds to actually ask anything. :p

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?

I really don’t know. I’ve been writing creatively since I was like 6. I don’t really remember writing for fandom until Pokémon, but I’ve been in fandom since the original Sailor Moon and Ronin Warriors/Samurai Troopers.

 2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

I guess the Yogscast. Except I only really like a few of them, and it sure as shit isn’t the main channel people. I haven’t found a new obsession because I can’t sit still for tv anymore, and I’m a patient gamer/reader. So once I find something I like, it’s probably old and everyone’s already moved on.

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

OCs. I am boring, shy (and thus no fun), and quite good at ruining the moment.

 4) What is your favourite genre to write for?

Action/Adventure. Fight scenes. Getting out of dire as fuck situations. Underdogs.

 5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

I have so many… XP I guess a story I wrote in called Royal Infamy. It was literally hundreds of pages long, spanned at least 4 different fandoms, and could’ve been a standalone series if I just changed the names. Unfortunately it’s been lost to the ooooolllllddddd (and I mean 2001) internet. I like to think that maybe it’s on some ancient server, saved by those sorts of people who try to archive the entire internet and have literal exabytes of hoarded data. It was also how I met my SO of 13 years.

 6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

A Prince of Persia fic. I don’t even like Prince of Persia.

7) When is your preferred time to write?

I never get as much inspiration as when it’s 1am and I’m supposed to be going to bed like a normal person. But never at a normal hour in the evening unless I’m inspired at work and have to rush home before I forget.

 8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

It used to be from all the anime I used to watch, now it’s cobbled together from fantasy books and video games.

 9) In your xxx fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote?

Like erotic fic? Eeeh. I’m so terrible at it that I literally only have one, I’m writing it right now, I’m not finished, and I don’t particularly like it because I keep subconsciously writing away from the part where they hold hands because I’m conflicted and discomforted by the whole thing, to be honest. Like, even when I was adolescent and supposed to be thirsty as teenagers are, I just wasn’t and couldn’t. My ex tried to get me to write something for him, and I still couldn’t do it. *shrug* It doesn’t help that I’ve never been big on shipping. …Those characters sure are standing next to each other, yep.

 10) In your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind?

Hahah… endings. That’s good. (Also see previous question.)

 11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

Not that I can recall, unless you count ‘stop doing that thing’, ‘okay’ *does it more*

 12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

Rythian. Fuckin’ edgelord. Just everything about him and his OC is *kisses fingers*.

 13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

Unfortunately Rythian is usually entangled with other people from the Yogscast. :p

 14) How did you come up with the title for the xxx?

Current project doesn’t even have a title, that’s how non-committed I am to it (she says even though it’s fast approaching a novelette.)

 15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

If it’s an OC of a particular universe, there’s probably a naming convention, and I go by many names. If it’s just generic freestanding story, I keysmash and pick through it until it rolls off the tongue.

 16) How did you come up with the idea for xxx?

Classic ‘rivals who hide their sexual tension behind their distaste for one another.’

 17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

“I haven’t seen your face since when you first came back from The End. And the … incident with trying to rid you of your curse.” He chuckled. “I’ve actually seen a lot more than your scars.”

 18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Like 75% of my work is abandonware. I have ADHD, I get bored, and I usually take so long, the fandom “dies” before I can finish. And the moment is gone.

 19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

Royal Infamy. And make it mine this time.

 20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

Probably Royal Infamy.

 21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Ilona Andrews. Her style is exactly what I aim for. …Okay maybe not the monster fucking, but the rest of it. Exciting, tense, a little bit scary.

 22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

The Prince of Persia fic. The first draft of the erofic. The weeb crack.

 23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

Silence. My brain goes 100% towards analyzing music and then I can’t focus on anything else.

 24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

Eeeeeeehhhhhh *whines* I don’t wanna…

 25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

Nope. I don’t write that kind of pain.

 26) Which part of your xxx fic was the hardest to write?

The part where these two people who’ve tried to murder each other could even reasonably be in each other’s presence, let alone fuck. Also eternal hatred for evasive genital description brought on by a broken, puritan society.

 27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

I should start making outlines. My current three projects keep going off the rails.

 28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

To go in with no expectations of people ever responding let alone giving feedback to anything. You’re just tossing shit in a hole and for every ton, one flower might grow.

 29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

I did a thing about how Lalnable Hector created Echo, and *crickets*.

 30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Twenty years later, I still get emails about a fic I wrote about Birdy the Mighty (C-tier anime about a dead boy soul-sharing an intergalactic cop’s body.)

 31) Send me a fic recommendation and I’ll post it for my followers to see! (The asker is to send the rec not the answerer)

-

32) Are any of your characters based on real people?

Other than putting slivers of wish fulfillment in, no.

 33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

Someone found a fic I wrote in two weeks in an archive over 20 years old and sent me kudos. Like, that shit should’ve been buried. But they found it.

 34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

Mary Sue. And you’re goddamn right she was. And I’ll fucking do it again.

35) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

Nope, not for fear or anything, I just don’t think to share before it’s done because I’ll probably abandon it anyway.

 36) Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s?

You’ll be unsatisfied with the ending.

 37) What’s the funniest story you’ve written?

You fucking made me open one of my old Gundam Wing crack fics to check. Now I don’t know because I’m still cringing.

 38) If you could collab with any other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspire some collabs!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it.

*shrug* Like… I haven’t done a collab in *checks calendar* 17 years. I don’t have any live fandoms. I’m not big on trying to meld with other people’s styles.

 39) Do you prefer first, second or third person?

Third.

 40) Do people know you write fanfiction?

No.

 41) What’s your favourite minor character you’ve written?

Can’t think of one. I usually don’t have minor/background characters?

 42) Song fic - What made you decide to use the song xxx for xxx.

…Okay, now I seriously can’t tell if xxx means erotic or a particular example. 😐 Anyway, I for some reason lost the ability to link songs to fics/personalities. I just don’t think of any particular person when I hear a song and vice-versa.

 43) Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it?

That would imply enough people cared.

 44) What is the last line you wrote?

Despite the queen pushing him, he couldn’t move even if he wanted to (which he didn’t.)

 45) What spurs you on during the writing process?

If I don’t fucking do this it’s going to bother the fuck out of me for weeks, even if I don’t finish. Just get it on paper so it goes away.

 46) I really loved your xxx fic. If you were ever to do a sequel, what do you think might happen in it?

More action and intrigue.

 47) Here’s a fic title - insert a made up title. What would this story be about?

 -

48) What’s your favourite trope to write?

The antagonist finds the protagonist’s berserk button and realizes that maybe they should not have pushed it.

 49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

I can’t remember fics I wrote. And shit, that was at least 23 years ago. (She says even though she can perfectly remember her first fantasy novel 30 years ago. (The Gammage Cup))

 50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Angst. I think. I’ve gotten good feedback from my more serious stuff.

[crimsongenetics]

all the SO questions

Gdi Russian. I’m not even going to link the damn thing.

1. Tell the story about how you met.

Everyone knows how we met. Jeez.

You know what? I’ll link the very first thing he ever sent me. I think that’ll be new material.

2. Was it a gradual increase of trust and love, or was there a specific moment where you knew “I want to be with this person for a long time”?

I think at first it was gradual, for the friendship, learning to trust him, and then all at once I realized I was actually in love with him

3. Describe their eyes. Describe their hands. Describe their laugh.

The first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I want to see before I go.

The most stable things in my life at any given moment and exactly what I don’t realize I need in any way possible.

One of my favorite sounds even when it’s at my pride’s expense. 

4. What’s your zodiac sign and mbti type? What about your partner’s? Do things like that reflect your actual compatibility or is it just bunch of bunk?

Gemini and fuck if I know ok fine I think I’m ISFJ. Maybe. I don’t know how this shit works. Strider is a Saggitarius and shit he’s sitting right next to me hold on ISFP?

Load of shit straight from the bull’s anus.

5. Are you long distance? Have you met in person before? When do you get to see them again?

We lived a block from one another for years without realizing. We still live a block from one another but now we spend most of our time together.

6. Tell me a story about a happy experience you two shared. Something that makes your heart warm whenever you think about it.

That first New Year’s eve when we started dating. He almost didn’t fucking kiss me because he thought I wouldn’t want to, and when I initiated it anyway, kissing was still so new to us that his reaction is one I’ll never forget.

7. Tell me a funny story. Did they do something silly? Did you do something silly? Talk about your inside jokes.

He called me daddy the other day and it was a hot fucking mess, let me tell you.

And yes, I mean in the standard way of calling something a hot mess. 

(Mostly.)

8. Are your families supportive? Does it matter if they’re not?

Yes, they are, but I went into this 100% willing to defy the fuck out of Dirk and expecting him to not even look in my direction. 

‘Lo and behold I now call him at least once a week to catch up on things.

9. Would you ever have a pet together? Do you already have one?

I guess so? We have separate pets, I don’t know if we’d have one together. 

10. Do you have children together? If not, are you both interested in raising children some day?

Whoa there. Slow your roll, we’ve only been dating two years at this point.

Plus, me raising kids? How cracked is your skull right now?

11. If they’re having a bad day, what do you do to help?

He likes to be held and cuddled somewhere, maybe with a movie or some music or something, and he talks to me if he needs it.

12. If you’re having a bad day, what do they do to help?

Usually just him being there makes things significantly better. If I need to talk he listens. It’s basically the same shit I’d do for him, except I talk a lot more than he does when he’s upset.

He always listens to what I need to say even if it takes half an hour to get it all out.

13. What’s something that your partner does that would be annoying if anyone else did it, but it’s cute when they do it?

His incessant tapping or moving. It’s not necessarily cute but I know it comforts him and I know when he’s doing it something’s happening that’s affecting him.

If anyone else did it I’d probably tell them to calm their shit.

14. Have you ever went on a vacation or adventure together? Tell me about it. If not, do you have plans to do something fun in the future?

We went to Malibu with his family. I was tricked and then pleaded to. I liked it, the beach was really cool and I get along with his family like they’re just friends of mine, and I learned how to kind of surf while I was there.

Also other things I won’t mention here. It, admittedly, was a good vacation.

15. What’s something that you learned about yourself because of being with your partner?

I’m not as good at being alone as I tried to tell myself for a while there.

17. Which one of you kills the bugs (or captures the bugs and places them safely outside)?

I have cats.

18. Describe the perfect day with your partner. It can be something that’s already happened, or something that you plan to do.

Anything without work or school where we can be together without deadlines and just do whatever the hell we want to do that day, even if it’s never getting out of bed.

19. Do you prepare meals together? Does one person enjoy cooking more than the other?

Don’t let either of us cook. Ever.

20. What are the best restaurants to go to? Do you see movies at the theater? Do you do things like golf or bowling, just to bond more?

We live in Manhattan, really? Any of the non-chain places have a chance at being fantastic, but the pizza’s always good.

Yes to movies, no to ball sports. We have other things involving balls we can do to bond, thanks.

21. Tell me about a time that you got into an argument over something silly.

We bicker all the damn time, ok. How could I possibly pick one out?

22. Tell me about a time that you got into an argument over something serious. How did you compromise? What did you learn?

I honestly can’t even remember one enough to explain. We’re way better at communication than we were in the beginning.

25. Do you two have a “song”? What is it and how did it become your song?

Pfft. Closer.

I’ll just let that live.

26. Has your partner ever inspired something creative like your art, writing, etc?

The boy character in my book is vaguely based off of him, which was more accident than intentional.

27. Do you have extremely similar personalities and interests? Or extremely opposite? Or is it a balance that just makes sense? How do you try to better understand each other? Do you ever have to experience things you’re not interested in, or vice versa?

That’s…

Hm. We’re pretty different, but something about the way we work together keeps us pretty in-tuned to one another? At this point, understanding each other isn’t hard, it’s just trying to figure out what the hell kind of a point he’s trying to make.

I understand him a lot better when it’s serious matters. Other things? No fucking idea what goes on in that head of his.

28. Has your partner ever changed one of your opinions on morals, politics, society, etc?

Just on movies, but I don’t think that counts.

29. Tell me about a time that you were really proud of them.

He won two awards for his work last year and it wasn’t until I was sitting at that stupid table watching him go up for a second speech that it hit me and I realized I was unbelievably fucking proud to see what he did with something he didn’t believe was something he’d be good enough in to win at.

30. Does physical affection and/or sexuality have a role in your relationship? Are both of your needs being respected and fulfilled?

He’s clingy as hell, I’m horny 24/7 it seems like. We even out and aren’t ever left hanging.

31. How often do you talk? On the phone, Skype, in person? Are you two the type that stays up too late because the conversation is too good to end?

We nearly live together, you can guess this one.

32. Talk about your sense of humor, and your partner’s. Do you laugh a lot together? Which one of you is funnier?

We barely have the same sense of humor but we still laugh at things together. It’s usually in the vein of things we say to each other.

33. Is there anyone who doesn’t like the idea of your relationship? What’s the reason? How do you and your partner overcome disapproval from others?

I don’t think so? If there is, they haven’t stepped forward yet.

34. Have there been any hardships that have ultimately brought you closer than before?

Getting Strider to pass Creative Writing 101.

(Also one time he hit his head so hard he forgot he was dating me. Turns out he was in love with me a lot longer than I realize though, so that ended up being a learning experience. Hardest damn few days of my life until he confessed a second time, though.)

35. What’s their contact name in your phone?

Just Strider.

36. Tell me about what your partner is good at. Are they an artist, are they good at math, do they play a sport, etc?

Have you ever seen the pictures he takes? Jesus, I’m no art guy, but the colors on them. And the way they look when he does those set things, where they all fit together even if they’re pictures of totally different places or objects. I don’t get how he does it.

I don’t always get his films either, but he’s good enough to have won things, so I know he’s better than I can give him credit for. He’s not half bad at DJing either.

He’s also really damn good with those fingers of his.

37. Get really sappy and gross for a moment. Be so gushy that your friends would groan in mock annoyance if you told them. What’s adorable about your partner? What makes your heart melt? What’s something cute that they did that you’ll always remember no matter what?

Sometimes he says something really stupid and he knows it was really stupid but his embarrassment ranges from full-on red-faced to just the tips of his ears or the back of his neck and between the paleness of his skin and the color of his hair it never manages to look anything less than flattering and I kind of hate that but at the same time jesus he’s gorgeous.

Which is only exemplified when he takes off his sunglasses. You don’t realize what someone really looks like when they wear tinted eyewear and, while he’s attractive with them on, being able to see his eyes and discern what he feels is so absolutely stunning half the time I stop computing for a second or two.

Sometimes, if he’s done something he knows was a really good idea or was something I didn’t think of, he gets this stupid shit-eating grin on his face and it’s the cutest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen, even when I’m so annoyed at seeing it that I almost don’t want to look at it.

38. Let’s talk about life goals and hopes. Do you two have a similar idea for the future (regarding careers, getting a home, family, finding meaning)? Do you two make a good team? Can you imagine spending the rest of your life with them?

I think we’re both just taking it one step at a time and promising to stay on our track together for support, be it as boyfriends or best friends. I’m not going anywhere.

39. Reflecting on all of your experiences, what advice would you give to a young couple?

Communicate. God, you can’t know you’re with the person you’ll love forever if you don’t talk to them and listen enough to love them no matter what you hear.

40. Is your partner on tumblr? Tag them here and write them a small message, it can be anything.

@fuckdavestriderheistheworst

Hey bitch you’re on tonight. GIF war? Just you wait.

[hollywoodx4]

Sticking With the Schuylers (49)

It’s here, I finished! Thanks for your patience, this one is an emotional burden, and honestly took a lot of time. But hello to all of  the new readers! I’ve been watching the notifications (thanks for liking, by the way) so thankful that you guys have given this long ass story a chance. This series is my entire heart, so thank you. I appreciate every like, comment...everything. 

1  2  3  4   5   6   7   8   9   10   1112   I  13  14   15   16   17   18A  18B   18C  I 19   20   21   22   23   24   25  26   27  28   29   I  30  31  32 33 34  35  36  37 38  39 40  41  42 I 43  44  B  45 46  47 48

Tagging: @linsnavi  @workworkbae​ @adothoe @oosnavi​

Warnings: This story is pretty heavy on mentions of both physical and emotional abuse.

“Schuyler Liar? A look into the life, love, and lies of America’s middle daughter.”

Social media was buzzing with a flurry of mixed emotions when James Reynolds, political hopeful, admitted the rekindling of his relationship with Elizabeth Schuyler. The two had called it quits in March based on terms James “couldn’t and still can’t understand.” In September, in flooded news of a new romance for the middle Schuyler. And in November, those rumors were confirmed. From there, Shuyler’s social media has been dotted with photos of herself and Alexander Hamilton, a fellow student at Columbia University. But even these photos, beautifully presented have raised a lot of speculation. The main question? Is Elizabeth Schuyler really dating this poise-less immigrant? Sources have been back and forth on this argument from the day Eliza herself confirmed it. And Mystery Man? His private Instagram has recently been made public, his follower count raising by the thousands.

               But is this all just a publicity stunt? Reynolds says yes. According to an anonymous source, the two have started dating again. And Hamilton? A front. But other sources say that these allegations are also false. And at the center of it all? A red-handed Schuyler, caught in the act of serial dating. All three parties refused to comment on these accusations, Reynolds offering only “If it’s true, if she’s dating someone else, I don’t know what I’ll do. That would break me, I think.”

               What do you think? We think that someone has some major explaining to do.

___

               Madness is a murky pond; stagnant and still, a breeding ground for new life that isn’t quite wanted. The lurking of bacteria within that pond presents itself as a tightened stomach, nerves that roll and flip and eat at the soul. It’s the disguise of something simple that sparks the nerves, paranoia consuming the murky waters until they bubble over with the addition of new rainfall. But this is rain that falls heavy, with gale-force winds and storms that shake the land around her. This madness is a pond wracked by fallen branches. It’s a rain that will not cleanse.

               Eliza spends a majority of her time in a state of busyness; the winter has brought along a lot of busywork she isn’t prepared for. The holiday season, and then Alex’s birthday, had come and gone so quickly that her course work piled up. Now, she sits on it-or, within the depths of it. With a full backburner of work, Eliza finds herself in a state of uncommon disarray; her hair in a messy bun, the canvas bag she uses to tote things back and forth now cluttered with a collection of her week’s discarded items. Empty gum wrappers crinkle as she gets out a book, the floor receiving a coating of glitter from an art project she’d lead in an Early Childhood class. Among these things, charcoals and pens that have lost half their volume, shortened by a newfound flaring of emotions she’s unable to convey through any other means.

               Then, the white journal that Lisa had given her. She’d been asked to use it frequently, with assignments and with the use of another outlet. It’s supposed to help, to clear her mind and give her something to keep herself busy, and grounded to reality. So far, her work had spanned from a quote written in neat handwriting over the front cover (which she’d spent far longer on than necessary) to the first page, which she’d covered in Polaroid photos and similarly picturesque captions. Everything reads sweet, docile. She uses pastel pens and watercolor paints in this book, which she’d presented proudly to Lisa the next session.

               “It looks very well put-together.” She’d turned the journal over in her magenta manicured hands, considering it with a nod and half of a smile before returning it to Eliza’s waiting hands. “Soon, we’ll work on pulling you away from that.”

               Lisa does a lot of half-smiling in the weeks that pass; Eliza’s journal does not get filled, nor does what has been put inside encompass a stitch of her therapist’s expectations. Each week she presents it like a master chef showing off his greatest dish, and each week Lisa nods. She takes notes. She fills up the legal pad she’d opened when they’d first started working together and immediately opens a new one. Her hand can’t seem to stop during their sessions, where Eliza fills Lisa in on her week in broken up fragments, bits and pieces she tosses in to fill the awkward silence.

               “Are you ready to talk about the journaling?”

               Eliza shakes her head.

               “I’m working on it.”

                 Thursday morning has Alexander practically bursting through the door of Starbucks, scanning the tables and couches until he finds her in the back, scribbling in a white book in an enclosed area of the room. He ducks past a line that swivels out the door, grabbing the espresso-laden drink John had made ahead before sinking into the seat across from his girlfriend.

               Eliza doesn’t look up. Her eyes are glued to her book, her hand frozen in time. He clears his throat. She takes in a soft breath, just enough of a clue for Alexander to know that she hasn’t died right there on the unsteady corner table. He presses, saying her name again in a soft and gentle sort of tone before her head snaps up from her work. Eliza’s hands are shaking when she brushes the loose strands of hair from her face, combing it between her fingers before her long, dark locks fall over one shoulder. She tips her head in the opposite direction, leaning over the table for a kiss.

               “How’s work?”

               “Good, I wish I could go in and finish filing those papers though.”

“Does your boss have another stupid, weird task for you to do today? Dusting the ceilings of his office, getting his mail from the P.O box?”  Alex turns his head slightly, subconsciously.

“Liza, it’s Thursday…I have off. We always meet here on Thursdays because of that, before my 7 a.m?”

“You’re right,” She shakes her head. “This whole change of schedule thing is really killing me, I only knew what day it was when I had to say it during morning lesson.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay over last night; our whole electric bill problem? Insane. They had to take the phone from me. Apparently I’m not as calm under pressure as Laff is.”

“You? Stressed? Never.”

She laughs, then, tucks her hair behind her ear again. There’s a crack; somewhere, within the smile that’s not quite hers and the shaking hands that bring a hot cup to peach colored lips. She’s not present in the writing upon it-Soy caramel latte, espresso- that’s not quite right, or in the way that her feet swing slightly under the table. He reaches over to take one of her hands, hold it in his.

“Eliza,” He can only say her name at first, stuck between her eyes and the half of her smile with a gentle sort of unease, one that hits him with only the smallest wave of rolling-stomach nerves. “Are you alright?”

One hand squeezes his. The other cups his face, thumb rolling off of freshly trimmed stubble that bristles as she touches it. She brings her lips to his cheek, lets them linger before releasing herself. There is just enough space between her lip and his cheek for air to pass through, and she speaks to him in a reserved, dulcet sort of tone before kissing him one last time.

“I’m fine.”

His nerves had always been overactive anyway.

                  Emptiness would have been a better companion than this-hell, it had been for a very long time. The more time she spends with Lisa, and on her work, the more she feels the progression of the inevitable collapse. She had been warned. Multiple times, Lisa had taken stock of their conversations and attempted to bring up the change in emotions that would come with the sudden release of what she’d been repressing. Eliza had brushed it off, told Alex and Angelica and Peggy to ignore the words. She’s always been the face of positivity. In a storm, she’s that first heart-stopping breakthrough of a lighthouse’s illuminating guidance.

               She doesn’t feel much like a lighthouse anymore.

               With each passing day; with the conversation crawling deeper, and the darkness cracking through its long-housed hiding place, Eliza feels like she’d like to hide as well. So she does. She fills her schedule with meaningless tasks, highlighted and underlined as if their significance is related to anything but her gradually fraying mental state. There is suddenly too much, yet not enough. Not enough work, not enough of a responsibility outside of herself to maintain. But this state of being is different, trapped between the living and the successful and those just barely scraping by. On any given day these feelings create a dissonance that wracks Eliza’s body with sickness and sucks away the hope. The confidence of success; of receiving a good grade, or reading a positive article written about her (finally, because these are now dwindling), makes her heart soar. But in that same note, that same day, the churning storm that hovers over her soul continues its darkness, takes that lightness and positivity away in one greedy draining of shining water from her shoreline.

               “I need you to think about this for a moment, Eliza.”

               She runs a lot; three miles, then five, and suddenly her feet are pounding against concrete and her heart against her chest and the ten mile mark rolls around and finally, finally, she can’t feel a single thing except the exhaustion that weighs on her bones and the sweat that drips down her nose. It cakes her face in moisture that blends itself with the salt-ridden drops that come from her eyes, osmosis implementing a perfect disguise. There’s a track her feet beat along the pavement; the heat of her frustration could melt the perfection of that shoveled, blackened tar, create craters of catharsis that don’t quite reach high enough into her mind to ebb her issues completely. There aren’t enough hours in the snow-ridden days, aren’t enough degrees on the thermometer to cure everything. She runs anyway. She runs until her cheeks are bitten red with cold, until the snow has penetrated black sneakers and wool-thick socks.

               It feels amazing in the moment. In the moment, with the span of a sparsely populated Central Park is lain out in front of her, Eliza is able  to clear everything else away. There is nothing but the bitter air and her hot breath, rhythmic and visible against the continually grey sky. At first, it’s as if every blog she’d been combing through held a truth comparable to her own; running truly is the best therapy, the curative she’d been looking for all along. It’s a stronger prescription than a silly white journal, or even the sketchbook under her mattress. For Eliza, running is the best therapy until her feet no longer hit the pavement.

               Everything shatters when she enters her apartment again, strips off her sweat-ridden clothes and lets her body adjust to one simultaneous temperature. Without the biting wind or the surroundings of the busy city to distract her, the perfect solution she’d read and prescribed herself to so intensely becomes nothing but an illusion. There is no change in her soul, which is riddled with a hot-breath-in-February swirling, a smoke-and-mirrors game just teasingly perfect enough to hold an addictive property. When she’s home, when her feet are given their long begged-for respite, Eliza wants nothing more than to beat them up again. A shockwave of pain begins to pound up her leg, to knees that pinch and pop in protest. Her soul begs her to continue anyway, to carry on this bodily abuse if only for the temporary relief of her soul.

…

               “I have something to tell you.” Eliza’s soft hum is her response, and she stirs the pot on the stove in concentration. The strain in Angelica’s voice is evident, yet hidden. The wood flooring knocks beneath what Eliza envisions as her sister shifting her weight from foot to foot, focused-or hesitating. She guesses the latter when Angelica lets out a long, drawn-out sigh.

               “You know I love you more than anything else.”

               “Yeah…”

               “And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what,”

               “Did John propose? Because I know you weren’t into that idea but if he did,” She can feel the roll of Angelica’s eyes before she sees it, stops herself mid-sentence and turns back to her work. There is an air about the room, an air between them that Eliza cannot decipher. It is not the golden, shimmering playfulness they’d had as kids, or when Peggy is with them and they’re hit with the freedom to spend the day together. It isn’t the air of purple guidance, a soothing lavender brushing against her porcelain skin when Eliza wasn’t sure if she was going to get into Columbia. It isn’t even the placid sort of mocha, comfort and a coffee shop warmth in just being together. This is something new altogether, a flickering orange that stops and starts itself as Angelica moves herself to stand next to Eliza at the counter. It moves up and down that orange spectrum just slightly as Angelica fidgets; taps her foot, puts a hand on the knob of the stove. It’s in her breathing, slightly irregular, and the press of her darker hand against her middle sister’s.

               “Back in September, I applied for an intensive study abroad program in England. It would mean that I could get my double major completely done instead of having to come back to Columbia next year. I could be in a law firm at the start of next year. I could be heading protests, working with the Association for Women’s Rights in Development. Do you know how many job opportunities are right in this city, how many lives I could change?”

               “So you applied.”

               “I got in.” She nearly whispers the words, as if they are a secret so precious that she must keep them close to her chest. She breathes in, a great upheaval of emotions, before a wide and exuberant grin shift her mature, more collected features. It is a resounding firework of bliss and unfiltered pride that buries itself into Eliza’s stomach, and she begs her own lips to turn up in a congratulations she can barely manage.

               “I’m so happy for you,” this is honest. Her mind repeats the words, holds on to them as her older sister runs through the details with a fine-toothed comb, explaining the process of application and sorting through the emotions that had been running through her head.

               “When I got that letter, I just-I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t know what to do. It’s been a crazy month going back and forth, and John wasn’t happy with me for a really long time. But this is so important to him, and Peggy agreed that it wasn’t fair that you didn’t know, and,”

               “Wait, Peggy knows?”

               “Yeah…yeah, I told her when the letter came in, back when I told mom and dad and they were being crabby about my going across the country with John, as if we haven’t been dating our entire lives.”

               “Oh.” It’s all she can muster. She turns back to the stove, where the soup has begun to bubble up rapidly from the lack of attention she has paid it. Eliza turns the burner down, focuses the turn of her stomach and the prickling of tensed nerves on the stirring of the liquids in the pot.  She pictures her oldest sister, her source of guidance, spending a semester away from her in England. The grin that had encompassed her face, the one that had seemed so different on her typically composed features that would be a common occurrence at Oxford. John had always wanted this, Angelica had pretended not to. Eliza feels the tears before they come, attempts to blink them away.

               It seems silly to cry over something as simple as this; Angelica deserves this happiness, this time apart from the chaos that is erupting. And Eliza is nothing but willing to give it all to her. If it had been her choice, if Angelica had come to her first, she would have sent her on that plane instantly. No matter what. There is a piece of her that realizes that. Angelica moves to hold her, to turn off the burner and wrap her in her arms.

When they were younger, when Eliza was scared or hurt or unable to sleep, she’d crawl under the duvet in Angelica’s room. Her older sister would brush her fingers through her silky hair, press their faces close together and hum words of encouragement through the light innocence of a child’s voice speaking a mother’s words. This feels no different; her tears, although they are few from what she can feel, soak through the shoulder of Angelica’s soft purple work blouse. The material is butter in Eliza’s hands, where she keeps them wrapped tight around her sister’s waist. She longs for the darkened silence of her childhood bedroom, where Angelica had been able to keep her safe from everything with just her words. And then, her weakness snaps with the resistance of a rubber band. Heat encompasses the muscles that had relaxed and numbed with sadness. She pushes herself from Angelica’s embrace, her eyes engulfed with the clouds of a storm.

“Why am I the last person you told?”

“Betsy,”

“No, really. Why? Because it’s not like I’m the last place you’ve visited in a day. You got accepted last month. You’ve been hiding this from me for that long. And not everyone, just me.”

“Eliza, you know it’s harder with you. You’re…it’s different. I can’t just up and leave you, I’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“Why, because I’m fragile? Because I’m broken? I’m not a child anymore, Angelica. I’m doing perfectly fine, and you would know that if you spent more time talking to me than at me. I’m not just some project you can throw yourself into because you’re looking for someone to fix. I’m fine, and I’m tired of being treated like I’m not.”

Angelica, wounded from the verbal bullets her red-eyed sister had aimed her way, takes a step back. She gathers her coat, laces her boots, and stands by the door without a single word. She shakes her head, multiple times, as if the motion is settling the jumbled mass of thoughts and emotions that have clouded her usual judgement. The calm, collected state is gone from her mind, replaced with a form of despair as she looks upon her sister’s cracked frame, which is held together by arms that hug herself tight.

“I’ll call you later.” Angelica’s voice is soft, cracking as she closes the apartment door behind her. And when she does call, over and over, Eliza does not answer.

…

               “Breakthroughs don’t just happen with the bare minimum of work. If you choose to ignore this, the loneliness? It’ll only get worse.”

               …

               Monday brings a missed class, Wednesday a canceled date night. By the time Friday rolls around, Eliza claims sickness and burrows herself in a pile of blankets and tea. She attempts to read, but the words on the page dance and rearrange themselves into situations she remembers only in the faint hours of the night, when there is nothing else to distract her. She watches reality television that holds none of her interest, watching beautifully made-up girls try on wedding dresses and fight with their bridal parties over the pros and cons. First there is a low, one that picks at her brain and forces her to place her head upon these bodies, imagine herself in such a state of bliss. But each time she gets close enough to feeling the light that would allow, it disappears.

               The effects of her current state of emotion are instantaneous, and frightening. Eliza lingers in a limbo between them all with no control, begging her brain for release from the heinous behavior she no longer has the will to contain. She will not answer Angelica’s phone calls. She considers skipping brunch. The thought of socialization hangs heavily, exhaustingly over her head. And when she attempts to write in her white journal, it only intensifies.

               She begins with something simple; his name. She writes it over and over, until her hand has memorized the pattern she had known so well. She presses hard with her pen, then soft. She uses writing delicate as spring, with curly letters and hearts, and next to it places the stark contrast of capital letters and roughly pressed ink. She researches, looks up the origin of his name and laughs when it tells her the meaning ‘to overthrow.’ She’s sure the truth is just a coincidence, that the action of taking over her mind isn’t caused by some stupid website on the internet with little historical citation. Her mind must be playing tricks to consider the fact that this one word is exactly what is happening. But then, Reynolds; a powerful ruler.

               She gives up on her little white journal.

               She shuts herself further into her burrow.

               It is a reluctant Sunday brunch, one which she barely remembers through the closed pieces of her mind and the pushing of her fork over another beautifully done vegetarian dish. Her father prods her, reminds her of the chef’s kindness in remembering her dietary choices after all of these years. It is Peggy who drowns the potatoes and tofu in Sriracha and blocks her nose, playfully mocks her sister’s choice over steak and chicken. Eliza holds herself well enough to bring some of the shining light into the photographs they’re asked to take.

               She falls asleep almost instantly when she gets back to her apartment.

               There isn’t enough time in the day to sleep anymore, not when her dreams are restless, filled with dark hands that press themselves too tight, suffocate her until she wakes in choking agony.

…

               “It is not your fault. You did not choose for this to happen.”

               On Monday, after a full week and a half without seeing Eliza, Alexander picks at the spare key dangling from his keyring. He holds it during class, lets it make indents in his palm until he is sure they will be permanent. Her name rings through his mind for the entirety of the day, until he feels a strong and bubbling nausea rise to his throat.

               He excuses himself from his class half an hour early. He makes it to her apartment in record time.

               She isn’t anywhere to be found, and at first he is thankful; maybe she’s in class, or with Angelica. Maybe she’d decided to take the unseasonably warm day to roam the city instead. But the slight differences within his once home are evident, calling him to search further than the kitchen. There are dishes in the sink, a dishwasher full of dirty ones that hadn’t been run yet. There aren’t any blankets on the couch, but a line of teacups take over the coffee table. The floor crunches with a layer of salty outdoor debris, its origin made clear by the shoes that litter every corner except the empty basket they are supposed to be in. Every blanket in the apartment; the one that used to be on the couch, and the armchair, and even one of his own fleece touristy blanket-they’re all discarded on her bed, crafted into a cocoon worn and wrinkled with use. Laundry litters the floor there, too, as if everything she had said to him about discarding his clothes in the bathroom had been a joke.

               The bathroom-when he approaches the door, there is a light shining through its narrow crack. There is no sound; not from the outside, and not after his entrance is announced with the creak of its hinges. He notices her instantly, the way she sits in the middle of the tiled flooring. She is surrounded by papers, papers covered in blacks and blues that have transferred to her arm. From the tips of her fingers to her elbow she is covered in paint, the substance drying and caking itself, consuming. Her head is bent, legs spread as her body stretches over another recently blank canvas. She paints this one a brilliantly crafted grayscale, one that begins with a single speck of white in the center. From there it is a spiral, a blend of darkness that leads to complete black, darker than night and lining the canvas. It traps the brilliance of the white inside of its spiral, keeps it prisoner within itself. Eliza’s brush moves with delicate, shaking strokes as she perfects the lines  , concentrates and hides behind the thin veil of the unruly waves of her hair.

               He is silent. For a moment, he watches her focus, although he is sure by the slow and unnatural rhythm of her breathing that her focus is drawn to something other than acrylic paints and the storm cloud of paints that decorate her arms. Her silence is broken by a minute sound, a sniff that barely reaches the motion of her body. It is enough; enough to bring him next to her on the floor, the bitter cold of the tile seeping through his jeans. Alexander’s voice is just above a whisper when he holds his hand out, asks if he can use the warmth of his touch to break through the numb, unresponsive state she had holed herself up in.

               When his warmth reaches her back, when his hand rubs small circles and his voice takes the place of the stagnant silence she had been living in for a week, her head falls to the floor. His heart, which had all but stopped upon seeing her so still and silent, cracks and throbs as Eliza’s body shakes. She presses one hand to the floor, hitting the brilliance of her painting without noticing, and uses the last ounce of her strength to pull herself into his lap. One cheek presses into his jeans, which are just beginning to lose the chill of the outside air. He uses both hands to support her now, one on her back and the other in her hair, on her waist. He presses her as close to him as he can, feels the feeble weight of her body lose the last ounce of its strength.

               He does not say anything.

               He doesn’t have to.

               For that singular moment, Eliza presses play on her life.

               Alexander transfers her to her bed, presses a kiss to her forehead and promises to return. He cleans the teacups, washes the dishes and starts the dishwasher. He folds the laundry stuck stagnant in the dryer. He cleans the paintbrushes in the sink, watches the water go from clear to murky black and back again. By the time is done, and he pulls the covers back from her bed, Eliza is asleep in the deconstructed cocoon. Alexander lays beside her, and draws her closer.

               Eliza, for the first time in a week and a half, sleeps through the night.

               “Breakthroughs don’t happen in a night. They take patience, time…they take a hell of a lot of work. But if that work is put in, if pain is felt for just a moment, your life could change.

               Take this journal; I need you to remember, Eliza. I need you to feel.”