#<- for the text its a bit har don the eyes

[amphibianaday]

day 1758

I HAD THE SURGERY TODAY

there's a few days of art queued but if i ahven't recovered enough to draw when it runs out we'll have a short break until i can draw again!! you'll find out in a few days when the queue runs out or doesn't :D

[justice4canyonmoon]

An Evening Off

Summary: Both Y/n and Harry have a rare night off. Y/n has relaxing plans for how they should spend it.

Notes: Howdy! This is probably the last fic I’m going to post for the next two weeks; I have finals for college next week, and I have a fuck ton of work this week because professors love to give students everything at once 🙃 Anyway, I came up with the very fluffy concept because I crave emotional intimacy, so I hope you like it!!!!

Warnings: cursing ig. otherwise just a lot of fluff and taking a bath together 🥰

WC: 1.9k

Y/n was feeling lonely.

Her boring ass office job didn’t produce too many friends for her. While the people she worked with weren’t the absolute worst, they were just, well, bland. Their lives were cookie-cutter. The closest thing any of them had experienced to a true adventure was a trip to IKEA. Her two best friends, Maria and José, were across the country, since she had moved from one coast to another to live with her boyfriend. Sure, she could FaceTime them, but it just wasn’t the same. And after the call, she knew she’d just be more lonely than before.

Harry wasn’t an option either. He was working, far too hard for her liking. She understood, of course; it was album crunch time. He had to make all of the last minute decisions: finalizing the tracklist, photoshoots, and touch-ups on the chosen tracks in the studio. But she missed him. The only times she saw him anymore was right before bed, when he would stumble into the room sleepily and kiss her forehead before going right to sleep. So yeah, she was a bit lonely. And being alone on her day off wasn’t exactly the plans she wanted to have.

Luckily, the universe decided to answer her pleas. At around 1:00, after she had finished up a late shower, her phone buzzed with a text from her beloved.

H: Hi, baby! The only thing we have left on the agenda today is touching up a couple of the album tracks, so I should be home a bit earlier :D If you’d like, I can pick up some dinner on the way home.

She couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across her face. For the first time in ages, the two of them could finally have some time together! Maybe she could do something nice for him! He had been working so hard lately, he deserved it. And honestly, she did, too. An idea popped into her head, and she threw open the bathroom closet, taking a look through her bath supplies. She grinned triumphantly as she pulled out a citrus bath bomb, knowing that Harry enjoyed the calming scent of orange and lemon. A nice bath would not only help Harry destress, but it would also be the perfect cure to the loneliness that was settling in her heart. She quickly texted Harry a reply as she set the bath bomb aside.

Y/n: Sorry about the wait, babe, was just taking a shower. Forgot to this morning lol

He answered pretty much right away, making her smile.

H: It’s okay, baby! No need for apologies :)

Y/n: Okay! I’m excited to actually get to spend some time with you! I could really go for curry, if you’re up for Indian takeout.

H: Curry sounds good to me! I’ll probably be home between 6 or 7! I have to go now, but I can’t wait to see you :) I love you so much!!!!

Y/n: Can’t wait to see you, either, Har!!! I love you, too 💕💕

“Baby, ‘m home!”

Y/n looked at the clock. It was 7:30, a bit later than what Harry had said through text, but still much earlier than usual. She leapt up from the couch and sprinted to the front door, tackling Harry in a hug. He laughed loudly and wound his free arm around her waist, not fully able to hug her back because of the takeout bag in his arms.

“Let me put the food down so I can give y’ a proper hug.”

She let go with a small pout on her face, which Harry promptly kissed off while setting the bag down. He then wrapped her in a tight, two-armed embrace. She melted at the contact, resting her head on his chest and hugging him back just as tightly. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then rested his head on top of hers.

“Miss you, Har,” she said, her speech slightly muffled from talking into his t-shirt.

She could feel him frown against her hair, “I miss y’ too, Y/n. The album should be done by the end of the month, and then ‘m all yours until tour starts.”

“Good. I was gonna break into the studio and steal you back myself if you weren’t done soon.”

He chuckled, “I don’ think Jeff would like that very much.”

“Fuck Jeff! I need you back here,” she scoffed.

“I certainly hope y’ don’ want t’ fuck Jeff.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re annoying.”

He grinned cheekily, “But yet y’ still here.”

“Lord only knows why,” Y/n grumbled, though there was a smile on her face.

They pulled away reluctantly, both realizing how hungry they were. The two chowed down on chicken curry and naan while chatting about their day. Y/n spent most of her day off watching The Great British Bake-Off and snuggling with Daiquiri, their black lab. Harry had been putting the finishing touches on three of the album songs (“I can’ wait to play them f’ y’, baby”), and ranted about the traffic coming home (“I would’ve gotten home 45 minutes earlier, but the freeway was ridiculously clogged up!”). It was domestic in a way that Y/n never thought she would have, and she loved every second of it.

When everything from dinner was cleaned up, Y/n figured now was as good a time as any to reveal her plans for the rest of their evening.

“Hey, Har,” she paused, then continued when she heard his hum of acknowledgment, “would you want to take a bath with me?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Is this a ploy t’ get me naked?”

“No,” Y/n said bashfully, “I just thought it would be nice to take a bath together. I found a citrus bath bomb at the back of the closet, and I thought it would be relaxing for us.”

Harry’s eyes softened and he smiled gently at her, “That sounds perfect, love. Y’ too sweet.”

The two made their way to the bathroom, hand in hand. Y/n plucked the bath bomb from the closet and laid it in the tub, turning on the warm water. The water became a pastel shade of yellow, reflecting the lemony scent of the bath bomb. As she was checking the temperature, a pair of tattooed arms wrapped around her waist, and a kiss was pressed to her cheek. The heat radiating off of his body led her to believe that Harry had already rid himself of his clothes. When she turned around, her suspicions were confirmed.

“You work fast,” she commented, making a humming sound when the temperature was to her satisfaction.

“A bit,” he confirmed, leaning over to turn off the nozzle “just wanna take a bath with y’, love. Speaking of, let’s get those pesky clothes off of y’, shall we?”

Y/n nodded and Harry reached forward, almost reverently lifting her (his) sweatshirt over her head. She shimmied out of her leggings and removed her undergarments. She stepped into the bath first, gesturing for him to follow. He obeyed, and sat between her legs, resting his head on her shoulder. The two sat in silence for a while, basking in each other’s company. Y/n couldn’t remember a time where she had felt this at peace. But she also knew that Harry had forgotten to shower that morning since he was nearly late to the studio, so she reached over and grabbed some soap and a washcloth. She looked down at him and giggled softly when she realized he was almost asleep

“Wake up, baby,” she crooned, “let me wash you.”

“‘M awake,” he muttered, “promise.”

“Sure you are, that’s why your eyes are closed,” Y/n teased.

He only hummed in response, making her giggle again. She kissed his forehead and began washing him gently. The soft circles she was rubbing into his skin with the washcloth were soothing, and a sleepy smile made its way onto his face.

“‘Y always take such good care of me. Dunno how I got s’ lucky.”

Y/n felt her face grow warm as she reached for the shampoo, “I think I’m the lucky one. You always take care of me, too.”

She began rubbing the shampoo into his silky locks. Breathy gasps fell from his lips as she tugged lightly as his hair, working the shampoo into his curls.

“Feels s’ good,” he murmured.

“Glad you’re feeling good, Har,” Y/n replied in a hushed tone.

She rinsed his hair and repeated the process with the conditioner. By the time she had finished, Harry had fully fallen asleep on her shoulder. She cooed softly at how adorable he looked. He was like an angel; his long lashes were speckled with little water drops, his wet hair stuck to his forehead in an oddly endearing way, and a small smile was spread across his lips. He looked so relaxed in a way that Y/n hadn’t seen in a while. The bath helped her feel more at ease too; the monotonous motions of washing Harry made the stress from her job melt away, and the loneliness that had plagued her earlier in the day was washed away by the warm water. But she knew she had to wake Harry. She wasn’t quite strong enough to carry all six feet of him back to their bedroom.

Y/n gently jostled his shoulder and whispered, “Harry. Need you to wake up, baby.”

He groaned softly, making her giggle softly once more. His eyes slowly blinked open to reveal his jade irises, and he stumbled his way out of the tub, making her laugh a little harder as she followed. Y/n got out two towels and dried them both off, knowing that Harry was much too tired to do it on his own. She took his hand and walked toward their bedroom.

When they reached the bedroom, Y/n guided Harry to sit on the bed while she picked out sweats for both of them to wear to sleep (she knew that Harry had a particular fondness for when she wore his clothes to bed, so she got out his clothes for both of them). Harry pliantly moved his limbs as she clothed him, and watched her with moony eyes as she pulled on her own sleepwear.

“Look s’ pretty in m’ clothes, love,” he complimented, relishing in the shy smile that appeared on her face.

“Thank you, Har. Let’s get you to bed, okay?” she replied.

Y/n turned off the light and joined Harry on the bed. He was already lying on his side, so she wound her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. Usually, he was the big spoon, but with the whole mood they had set all night, it just felt right for her to be the one cuddling him. Y/n barely heard Harry mumble a “g’night. Love you,” before his breathing evened out. She smiled and closed her eyes, reflecting on the day. Just spending one evening with her boyfriend made her feel right as rain, and the loneliness that had once threatened to overtake her was totally gone. Though she had been taking care of him that night, he was also taking care of her. And sure, they were both going back to work tomorrow, but in two weeks, Harry would be done with the album and would be all hers. When sleep finally overtook her, all she had were the most pleasant of dreams.

[dreamings-free]

How Harry Styles Became A Modern Style Icon

by Phoe­be Luck­hurst - Evening Standard 15/11/19

A man wrought in the fires of teenage boy­band hy­per-stardom is not afraid of a lit­tle commotion. Still when Harry Styles — the One Di­rec­tion mat­inée idol turned lan­guid Gen Z icon — tweeted, at 1.01 pm GMT on Wed­nes­day af­ter­noon, that he would be tak­ing his up­com­ing album Fine Line on tour, you could, if at­tuned to the cor­rect de­mo­graphic fre­quency, hear the howl echo around the in­ter­net: gut­tural, hun­gry, ul­u­lat­ing. This was a pseudo-re­li­gious experience: one vi­ral meme de­picted the Pope hold­ing a copy of his al­bum aloft. The announce­ment has been retweeted al­most 70,000 times.

The 25-year old is a tour vet­eran — he spent five years and five al­bums strapped to the thunder­ing 1D jug­ger­naut — but this new tour is his first as a bona fide solo brand. The al­bum, his first in two years, is synth-soaked and soul­ful, the al­bum’s aes­thetic fever­-dreamy. Granted, he’s not the first per­son to go to So­Cal, try a few magic mush­rooms and de­clare him­self radically trans­formed, but the re­sults are be­guil­ing — and cer­tainly a world away from his years as a Simon Cow­ell Ken doll. Since his last record, he has co- hosted t he Met Gala and been reborn as an Alessan­dro Michele muse. This is your Styles crib sheet.

Melody maker

Styles’s new al­bum — writ­ten un­der a tie-dye mist af­ter tak­ing the afore­men­tioned psychedelics, which also re­sulted in a mishap in which he bit off the tip of his tongue — is “all about hav­ing sex and feel­ing sad”, which, granted, as a topline, does not wildly dif­fer­en­ti­ate the record from the genre of “al l other mu­sic ever”. Still, the early signs for Fine Line are encouraging. Its first sin­gle, Lights Up—which has been streamed al­most 100 mil­lion times on Spo­tify —is­ synth-y, soul­ful, un­der­stat­edly an­themic, very dif­fer­ent to, and bet­ter than, the lead sin­gle on his last solo record, the Seven­ties, soft-rock Sign of the Times( it still, of course, hit No 1), and very, very dif­fer­ent from any­thing he did with 1D. Many thou­sands of words have been writ­ten about whether there is a bi­sex­ual sub­text to Lights Up. It has been noted that the song was re­leased on Na­tional Com­ing Out Day, that Styles’s sex­u­al­ity has been sub­ject to fren­zied specu­la­tion be­fore, the video fea­tures an oiled-up, top­less Styles gy­rat­ing around men and women, and that the lyrics (“Shine, I’m not ever go­ing back/ Shine, step into the light”) could be in­ter­preted as a mean­ing­ful rev­e­la­tion of sorts. Cer­tainly, he has be­come a queer icon — especially with Gen Z — who are thrilled by his se­lec­tion of gen­derqueer singer-song­writer King Princess as his sup­port act for the Euro­pean part of his tour. Speak­ing of col­lab­o­ra­tors, Styles worked on the al­bum with pro­duc­ers Tyler John­son, who has worked with Tay­lor Swift, Mi­ley Cyrus and Ed Sheeran, and Jeff Bhasker, who has collabo­rated wit h Mark Ron­son and Kanye West, and his friend, Tom Hull, aka Kid Har­poon, who co-wrote Shake It Out for Florence + The Ma­chine. He has also been granted a fairy god­mother: Ste­vie Nicks, who called him her “lit­tle muse” at Fleetwood Mac’s hyped Wembley head­line gig i n J une. “S he’s a l ways there for you,” Styles has said in the past. “She knows what you need: ad­vice, a lit­tle wis­dom, a blouse, a shawl.” Sure.

Got Styles

Any young man raised in the white heat of a boy­band spot­light must be granted the space to find his fash­ion path; Styles has done so with no mis­steps and ex­u­ber­ant plea­sure. Once upon a time, he would sem­a­phore his in­di­vid­u­al­ity with a ban­dana; now, he turns up to a cover interview with Rolling Stone in a white floppy hat, blue denim bell-bot­toms and Gucci shades, his nails coloured pink and green. His favourite trousers, un­til he lost them on the beach, were a pair of mus­tard cor­duroy flares; this week, he wore a Lan­vin sweater vest with a sheep de­sign that sent a co­terie of Lon­don menswear stylists into throes of ec­stasy. He wears flo­ral suits and Cuban heels, ruf­fled, New Ro­man­tic shirts, Charles Jef­frey jump­suits and pussy- bow blouses. It is flam­boy­ant, self-con­sciously Bowie/Jag­ger, and in Gen Z par­lance, “very ex­tra”. His stylist Harry Lam­bert is par­tial to an ex­trav­a­gant col­lar, dra­matic neck­line and a vo­lu­mi­nous trouser.

Be­sides Lam­bert, an­other part of this evo­lu­tion has been his re­la­tion­ship with Gucci’s cre­ative di­rec­tor Michele, who has turned the Ital­ian her­itage brand into the ul­ti­mate post-gen­der lux­ury fash­ion la­bel, the first to merge their menswear and wom­enswear, and dis­patch male mod­els down the cat­walk in dresses and women in suits. A good look for a Gen Z idol.

With the brand

Notably, the brand­ing on this al­bum and its tour art­work is con­sis­tent with this new look Styles. The al­bum cover fea­tures Styles i n white cus­tom- made Gucci bell bot­toms and a Pep­to Bismol-pink shirt, open al­most to the waist, shot by mod-goth Tim Walker with a fish­eye lens (it is Walker’s hand in that S&M glove you can see in the left-hand cor­ner). In the dreamy video for Lights Up he wears a glit­tery suit and sus­penders, in a sort of hal­lu­ci­na­tory ver­sion of Satur­day Night Fever. Into it.

Stand up

Then there’s his voice — not the mu­sic, but the ac­tivism. Even as one-fifth of a boy­band manufac­tured by Cow­ell’s al­go­rithm, he was quick, quippy and itch­ing to go off-mes­sage; but now that he con­trols his own, he is am­pli­fy­ing causes such as Black Lives Mat­ter and End Gun Violence. He wore stick­ers for both on his gui­tar on his last tour, which might sound small, except that photographs of Styles gal­lop around the dig­i­tal world at hy­per­speed. At con­certs, he has waved pride, bi and trans flags, and a Black Lives Mat­ter flag. He once bor­rowed a flag from an au­di­ence mem­ber at a show in Philadel­phia that read, “Make Amer­ica Gay Again”. At a show on his last tour, he de­clared: “If you are black, if you are white, if you are gay, if you are straight, if you are trans­gen­der — who­ever you are, who­ever you want to be, I sup­port you.”

A vo­cal, en­gaged fan­dom of teenage girls minted his mul­ti­mil­lion-pound for­tune; he is loyal and ad­mir­ing of their zeal. “They’re the most hon­est — es­pe­cially if you’re talk­ing about teenage girls, but older as well,” he told Rolling Stone this sum­mer. “They have that bull­shit de­tec­tor. We’re so past that dumb out­dated nar­ra­tive of ‘Oh, these peo­ple are girls, so they don’t know what they’re talk­ing about.’ They’re the ones who know what they’re talk­ing about. They’re the peo­ple who lis­ten ob­ses­sively. They f***ing own this shit. They’re run­ning it.” Ob­vi­ously, he’s a fem­i­nist. “Of course men and women should be equal. I don’t want credit for be­ing a fem­i­nist. I think the ideals of fem­i­nism are pretty straight­for­ward.” An icon is born.

[corruptedspacecore]

I'm gonna need a bigger shelf!

Over time, I’ve been slowly building up a collection of Titanic books. A few of them I’ve had for a long time. Once in a while, something about other ships or other subjects altogether would creep in, mainly science. Recently, I acquired a bunch of new books, expanding my “library” to 40 books and adding some new subjects as well as ships to the mix. Here’s my library so far:

From left to right, top to bottom shelf:

Inside the Titanic - Hugh Brewster & Ken Marschall A big, great book featuring cutaway paintings of Titanic, showing what was inside.

Titanic: The Ship Magnificent: Volume 1 - Bruce Beveridge A thick volume covering the construction and engineering of Titanic, such as engines, funnels, ventilation and heating, generators, boilers, the shipyard, hull and steelwork, and so on.

Titanic: The Ship Magnificent: Volume 2 - Bruce Beveridge A volume covering the fitting out stage of construction and Titanic’s interior design, going over many of the rooms and design elements. Both volumes are filled with hundreds of photos and plans.

Titanic: Triumph and Tragedy - Jack Eaton & Charles Haas (signed by Jack and Charles) A sizeable book detailing the life of the Titanic from construction to sinking and many of the details surrounding it.

Titanic: An Illustrated History - Don Lynch & Ken Marschall A nice coffee table book with lots of paintings illustrating Titanic’s voyage and sinking.

Exploring the Deep: The Titanic Expeditions - James Cameron A book detailing Cameron’s many dives to the wreck of Titanic, featuring tons of photos, renderings, accounts, and some extra goodies.

Ken Marschall's Art of the Titanic - Rick Archbold & Ken Marschall Another book featuring many of Ken’s Titanic paintings and his history and process for painting them. It also includes some of his other liner paintings.

Titanic in Photographs - Dan Klistorner & Steve Hall A good coffee table book of large reprints of many famous Titanic photos, detailing her journey from shipyard to sailing.

Report Into the Loss of the SS Titanic: A Centennial Reappraisal - Samuel Halpern A more technical volume going over the conclusions of the inquiries into Titanic’s sinking and many of the details and accounts.

On a Sea of Glass: The Life and Loss of the RMS Titanic - Tad Fitch, J. Kent Layton, & Bill Wormstedt (signed by Tad) A detailed and compelling read about Titanic’s life from her sea trials to her final plunge, with a number of interesting appendices, information, accounts, and photos.

RMS Titanic: A Modelmaker's Manual - Peter Davies-Garner A wonderful book to have for the Titanic modeler, if you can find it. IT’s chock full of detailed drawings and plans of many elements of the Titanic, including hull line plans and a profile view, as well as its text and photos documenting the construction of a huge scale model of the Titanic.

RMS Titanic: Owner's Workshop Manual - David Hutchings & Richard de Kerbrech A fun little book in the style of those car manuals you often see, with plans and diagrams and photos covering many aspects of Titanic.

Eyewitness: Titanic - Simon Adams A very simple and short book for the child or young person just getting into the Titanic. A favorite from when I was little, but not much to it.

882 1/2 Amazing Answers to your Questions about the Titanic - Hugh Brewster & Laurie Coulter A fun read for interesting little tidbits and facts about Titanic and pop culture surrounding it.

Draw the Titanic - Andrew Staiano & Jason Pederson A guide for drawing Titanic and related subjects.

Titanic: Triumph to Tragedy A magazine-type publication full of general information and a number of errors, but probably a decent read if you’re short on time and want to know a bit more about Titanic.

National Geographic: April 2012 An issue of National Geographic with an article for the Titanic centennial, featuring some wreck photos and a sinking simulation poster and some words from Cameron about his explorations.

Ocean Liners of the Past: Olympic & Titanic A book from the 70s featuring reprints of material from earlier period pieces about the Olympic Class Liners. It includes a bunch of great, high-quality drawings and plans of things like the engine and boiler rooms and other engineering elements, and lots of great information about the engineering of those ships.

On Board the Titanic - Shelley Tanaka & Ken Marschall A short little paperback for any child who wants to learn the basics of Titanic’s story, with some paintings by Ken.

Story of the Wreck of the Titanic This is my oldest book, an original printed in 1912, acquired for only $15. It’s full of first-hand, unfiltered accounts from the survivors and news of the time about the Titanic disaster and aftermath.

A Night to Remember - Walter Lord Written in the 50s, this exciting and compelling novel utilized what at the time was the best information available about Titanic’s sinking. Lord manages to use pure facts and accounts - nothing fictionalized and no fake characters - with a gripping writing style to tell Titanic’s story from the collision to the Carpathia. It’s still considered one of the best books about Titanic, and the move made from it one of the best films about Titanic.

RMS Olympic - Brian Hawley A small book telling the story of Titanic’s sister ship, Olympic, with tons of rare photos.

M.C. Escher: The Graphic Work A giant book of prints of Escher’s best work. I won it at an art show in high school.

Beau Voyage: Life Aboard the Last Great Ships - John Malcolm Brinnin A big book full of many photos of ships from the early to mid 20th century, the age of the last classic ocean liners.

Queen Mary - James Steele A wonderful and large book all about the Queen Mary in her heyday and beyond, full of period photos of how she looked pre and post Long Beach, and a set of deck plans.

Lost Liners - Robert Ballard & Ken Marschall A coffee table book about the sinkings and wrecks of several famous ocean liners, including the Titanic. Ken’s amazing artwork is again displayed, including detailed paintings of Titanic’s wreck.

The Story of the Unsinkable Titanic - Michael Wilkinson & Robert Hamilton A very general book about Titanic’s story with the usual photos and material, but still good for the person just getting into the subject.

Robert Ballard's Lusitania - Robert Ballard An amazing, must-have book for anybody interested in the Lusitania, the other great ocean liner disaster. The book tells the story of Lusitasnia’s final voyages and sinking, and details Ballard’s explorations of the wreck. It includes inromation and tons of photos of the ship’s interiors as well as the wreck, and Ken Marschall’s incredible paintings depicting the sailing, sinking, and wreck of Lusitania.

Hindenburg: An Illustrated History - Rick Archbold & Ken Marschall Another must-have, this book tells the story of the German (Nazi) airship Hindenburg, starting with the airships that came before her, the final voyage, and her fiery end. It includes more amazing paintings by Ken, with some of them being cutaway views showing the inner workings and layout of the Hindenburg.

Comet - Carl Sagan & Ann Druyan A detailed tome about the science and nature of comets.

Cosmos - Carl Sagan Like the related TV series, Cosmos delves into the history and nature of the universe, from galaxies and planets to relativity and Mars, and the human journey to discover more about the universe we find ourselves in, and our deep questions about it.

Anatomy of the Ship Hood - John Roberts A technical book about the British battlecruiser Hood, it features many, many super-detailed drawings, plans, and disagrams of the structure and workings of the Hood, including deck plans, hull plans, line plans, detailed structural views, and views and plans of many elements of the ship’s structure. If you plan on modeling the HMS Hood, this book is a must-have.

The Battleship Yamato - Janusz Skulski This one is of the exact same nature as the Hood book, only with the Imperial Japanese battleship Yamato. Al lthe ultra-detailed plans you’ll ever need to know the structure of Japan’s most imposing battleship and technological WWII marvel.

Unstoppable: Harnessing Science to Change the World - Bill Nye (signed by Bill) Bill Nye’s ideas and plans for how we can use science and engineering to help and solve many of the world’s problems, including climate change. I picked up my signed copy at an event in Philadelphia where I got to see him speak.

The Origin of Species - Charles Darwin The classic book laying out Darwin’s theory of evolution. Evolutionary theory has come a long, long way since this book was written, but it’s still a must-own for anybody interested in science or evolution.

The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark - Carl Sagan A wonderful and eye-opening book about science and skepticism, and how we can use those tools to cut through the nonsense and horrors and burning questions and fears of the world to improve the world and our own lives. Sagan discusses many things from a skeptical, scientific perspective, including UFOs, magic, religion, astrology and other new-age ideas and more.

The Klingon Dictionary - Marc Okrand Pretty self-explanatory. Want to know what a word is in Klingon: This book should help. Or Google, but a book is good, too.

The Martian - Andy Weir If you thought the movie was good, the book is better. Weird brings his intense attention to detail and science to tell a compelling and plausible story about an astronaut trapped on Mars. It’s full of science and humor, so what could be better?

Raise the Titanic - Clive Cussler A fun, action-packed thriller from the master of adventure novels, Cussler tells the story of a mission to raise the wreck of Titanic in a Cold War arms race that culminates in a showdown on the rotted decks of Titanic. Written before the wreck was found, it takes some liberties, but it’s a thoroughly fun read.

Contact - Carl Sagan A novel about an alien signal received by humanity with instructions to build a machine to send a group of humans to another part of space, and all the hardships and drama that come with such an event. It was, of course, made into a movie starring Jodie Foster and Matthew McConaughey.

That’s my library so far. I hope to expand on it in the future. You can never have enough Titanic books, or any books for that matter.

[runthemaze]

newtmas and 26!

Newtmas + “Conversations? Socializing? Being outside of my house? That sounds horrible, no.” 

I bet you wanted pure fluff. Well, it’s fluff + college!au + battle couple?? 

tw: swearing, underage (maybe??? They’re in college so idk) drinking, violence, blood, bullying (I swear this isn’t as angst as these tags make it sound it’s pretty fluffy) 

want one??

Hold My Fucking Beer, Mate

“We’re going to a party tonight,” Minho says casually from their shared small kitchen.  

He doesn’t look up from his book, “Conversations? Socializing? Being outside of my house? That sounds horrible, no.”

“Come on,” Minho says, sitting down next to him on the couch. 

Newt inhales deeply, bracing himself for one of his roommate and best friend’s world-class pep-talks. There was nothing he took more seriously than them and Newt had long since learned to both oblige (and occasionally heed) his speeches.  

“It’s one party,” he says, raising single finger as though to keep Newt from misinterpreting. “You’re a junior and you’ve been to how many parties?” 

“Two,” he answers begrudgingly, already knowing the path of the conversation. 

“Exactly,” Minho sits back with a smirk, foreseeing the outcome. “And what was our deal about parties?” 

He doesn’t bother to suppress his sigh, “One party a year.” 

Minho claps him har don the shoulder, “And tonight’s the night, buddy.”  

He’d known this day was coming. The entire winter had passed and now the the weather was warm and they were closing in on summer Glade University was once again a hub of parties. He’d expected to be forced into one of the parties early in the year, before summer fully fled; however, when the fall semester came and went and he was allowed to remain at home he’d let himself foolishly hope Minho had forgotten their freshman year pact.  

Clearly that was not the case. 

An hour later they stand outside a house, multicolored lights shining through the windows and base reverberating beneath their feet despite still remaining on the sidewalk. 

“Let’s go!” Minho says, stepping forward before he’s caught by the arm. 

“Who’s our ride?” He asks, knowing the answer but making the other boy repeat it anyway. 

“Fry,” Minho says, making it clear he thinks Newt’s concern is unneeded and irritating. 

“Good,” he releases his arm. “Let’s get this over with.” 

Together they approach the house. As they approach Newt can hear the sounds of laughter and shouting, both of which already grate on his temples. Its going to be a long night. 

It isn’t that he hates interacting with people. It’s just a lot of work. He’s got a group of close friends and he’d be lost without them, but expanding his circle seems unnecessary. To be fair, aside from Alby—a friend from high school—the friends he did have had actively barged into his world and refused to be ignored. He’d met Fry in the dining hall where they both had work study. Minho was his assigned roommate freshman year and they’d lived together since. A few others: Winston and Chuck, had simply wandered into his life and made themselves at home.  For all that they annoyed him, he wouldn’t have it any other way and if he was feeling particularly sentimental he’d acknowledge that he was probably the happiest socially that he’d ever been. 

Still didn’t make him want to go to a fucking party.  

Minho is his ticket in, pulling the doorman into some sort of bro-handshake. He’d been accepted to the school on a track scholarship and was easily one of the most popular students in their year. The same could be said for Alby. Amongst them Newt was an unspoken packaged deal: where they went, he went. It wasn’t an association he minded, but in the midst of the athletic crowd attending the party he stood out like a sore thumb. 

“Here,” Minho says, finding Newt nestled in a corner roughly five minutes after arriving. 

He thrusts a plastic cup into Newt’s hand, the red contents nearly sloshing on him. He raises the drink and sniffs it, nose wrinkling at the cloying scent. 

“What the hell is this?” 

The other boy takes a glance into the swirling liquid, “Vodka, wine cooler, and….Caprisun?” 

“Why the fuck would I drink this?” He asks, holding the cup away from him as though it might bite.

“Gally made it,” he says with a shrug. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Just another reason not to.”

“Thought it might loosen you up.” 

“Thanks,” he says, passing the drink back to his friend. “But no thanks.” 

“Suit yourself,” he takes the cup. “I’mma wander around for a bit. Shoot me a text when your ready to get out of here.”  

Minho drifts away into the crowd of bodies, his laughter ringing out above the haze of noise.  

Eventually Winston finds him and offers him a beer. They fold into the wall, chatting mindlessly about their shared Physics courses. It was a nice bit of idle chit chat, but he still felt as though it wasn’t worth leaving his house for. 

“Big mistake Greenie!” A voice shouts, followed by a surprised yelp. 

Looking away from Winston he sees a crowd has formed by the patio doors. The entirety of the party seems to have paused to observe whatever spectacle was taking place. They amble over and push their way to the front.  

Gallly and Ben, two hockey players that Newt had thankfully only had to share courses with a few times in his years at the Glade, stand, arms crossed, fuming with rage. Their fury is directed at a brown haired boy, standing with his hands up, looking both irritated and confused. Thomas, he recalls he boy’s name. They’d sat a few seats from one another in the fall semester. He was nice, a transfer student or something. They’d never had a conversation as far as he can remember aside from Thomas asking if he was in the right class. 

“I didn’t touch Brenda,” he snaps, words directed at Gally. “We’re partners for a presentation. That’s it!” 

“Yeah right,” Gally says advancing. 

Thomas steps back slightly, only to realize that the ring of people had formed a barrier, blocking his escape. This was going to get extremely messy, extremely fast. 

As if prompted by Newt’s thoughts, Gally throws a punch which Thomas narrowly misses, ducking beneath his arm only to side step to avoid Ben’s fist. It wasn’t a fair fight in the slightest. Two hockey players, each of whom had at lest four inches and fifty pounds on Thomas, coming at him at once. The kid was going to get pounded and judging by his tone, for no good reason. 

Time for some bad decisions. 

“Hold my fucking beer, mate,” Newt snaps, pushing the bottle into Winston’s hands. 

He brings back his fist and slams it into Ben’s face, sending him clattering backwards and into the coffee table. Pain sparks in his knuckles. 

‘Behavioral issues,’ had been Newt’s tagline through middle school. He wasn’t sure how it had happened but somewhere early on he and his twin sister, Sonya, had been branded as bully fodder. They’d sat and taken it for a few years, it was just insults at first. Then in eighth grade, some bastard cut off Sonya’s braid in the lunch line. He’d found her sobbing in the bathroom. It was that very night that they made a pact not to take shit from anyone any longer. Unfortunately, with that came bruised knuckles, two broken noses, and several suspensions. It hadn’t lasted long. In tenth grade they moved to the United States and managed to leave that shit behind them. Still, it came as comfort knowing that he didn’t have to worry about Sonya as they lived separately for the first time in their lives in college.

He appreciates the experience he got now because Ben staggers back to his feet and fixes his eyes on him.  He lunges forward and Newt uses his momentum to sent him crashing into he crowd of people that have gathered. Gally and Thomas are locked in a hard struggle, and Thomas is thrown to the ground at Newt’s feet. He pulls him up. 

“You okay?” He asks, keeping his eyes fixed on Gally. 

“Thanks, Newt,” he gasps, patting his shoulder. 

A few guys appear behind Gally, other members of the godforsaken hockey team. 

“I didn’t touch Brenda!” Thomas spits at Gally.  

The other’s face contorts into a sneer, “Bullshit.”  

Ben climbs back to his feet and stands at Gally’s side, blood running his nose. There was no way in hell they we’re going to be able to take these guys like this. And of course they were between them and the door.  

“If this gets ugly,” he says out of the side of his mouth. “You run, get it?” 

“What?” He can hear panic in Thomas’ voice. 

Newt doesn’t answer, stepping forward and picking up 40oz off the table.

“You’re letting us go,” he says calmly. “Or I’ll glass you. I’m sure Brenda won’t like you as much with ribbons for a face.” 

Gally laughs, “‘Glass us”?” 

He grips the bottle hard. It isn’t the first time he’s done this, but he’d hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat. 

“The cops are coming!” A voice from the crowd shrieks.

It’s the saving grace they needed. Immediately chaos ensues, people running in every direction, trying to get free of the house before the police arrive. 

Thomas pats his back, dodging a punch from Gally, “Thanks, Newt.” 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he snaps, pulling him towards the door. “Let’s go.” 

They leap down the steps of the house, cold night air rushing around them. Shouts rise from the house and they don’t stop running down the street. Thomas bursts out laughing as they round a corner, winding through the suburban neighborhood. Newt’s leg aches and his lung burn but he can’t stop smiling. 

They run to a shitty looking diner at the every edge of the neighborhood. It’s yellow and red lights warmly beat back the two AM darkness. They slip through the sliding doors and sit in one of the booths. The plastic leather sticks against his shirt, and he leans back, looking up at the garishly patterned ceiling, out of breath. 

“What’s ‘Glassing?’” Thomas asks after a moment of rest.

He raises an eyebrow, “Really?” 

“If you couldn’t tell,” he replies. “I don’t usually deal with that sort of thing. Seems like you have though.” 

“‘Glassing,’ is when you take a bottle,” he mimes the motion. “And smash it into someone’s face so it shatters.” 

Thomas’ eyes widen, “Shit.” 

“Shit, indeed.” 

They’re quiet for another minute until Thomas speaks again, “You wanna milkshake?” 

He grins, “Sure. Strawberry.” 

“Cool,” the other boy slides out of the booth to order, throwing a bright smile over his shoulder. 

Maybe the party wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

[aqua-harry]

She’s Just Not That Into You » Part VI (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

Miss the previous parts? Part One » Part Two » Part Three » Part Four » Part Five

Check out the inspiration behind Harry’s home here! The amazing @graceak​ made a phenomenal playlist to go along with Harry’s story, and I could not recommend it more. You can find that here!

“But it’s like…” Harry stops and starts again. “I met with Carly, her replacement, and she’s nice enough. So nice. Lovely girl, really. But every time I talk with her about the plans, I jus...I can’t smile. I can’t get excited about it. ‘m not supposed t’ be talkin’ with Carly about them. She’s not the one who made ‘em. She’s not the one who...well, y’know.”

“If I’m being honest,” Gemma sighs on the other end of the phone, “I would’ve done the same thing, had I been put in that situation.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “I would’ve, too. And I wouldn’t’ve been as nice.”

Harry didn’t need his sister to tell him he was in the wrong, but he did need her advice. So, he bucked up the strength to call her in his time of need, explaining everything, starting with the night he’d met you at Nick’s house. He spared no detail - it wasn’t worth lying to his sister just to make himself look better, as he knew she would see right through it. She let him tell the entire story, never interrupting, but offering an affirming “mm-hmm” every now and again.

“Well,” she chirps. “What’re you going to do now?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs, picking at the loose string on his t-shirt. “‘s why ‘m calling you.”

“Full disclosure?” Gemma questions.

“Course.”

“When Mum told me you’d be getting your new place designed by her, I did my research,” she chuckles. “Not t’ scope her out as a person, because I wasn’t aware of your infatuation, but just t’ see what her work looked like. She’s really cool, Harry.”

“I know this,” he smiles.

“Like really cool. And gorgeous. Her eyebrows are incredible. I know ‘ve got great brows, but hers are just...phenomenal.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but laugh.

“And if what you say is true about her, then she seems even cooler. Y’know I’m not one to be jealous because I think it’s a waste of time, but I kinda am,” she says. “More of you, really. Jealous that y’get to spend time with her!”

“Gem!”

“But really,” she scoffs. “In all my years of knowin’ you - what is it, almost 23 now? You’ve never been this way over a girl. Over anyone, really.”

“‘cept when I was 15, maybe…”

“No, not even then. At least she was your girlfriend then. This one...this one is different from the others,” she sniffs, her voice contemplative. “All of ‘em.”

“How do you know?” Harry asks. “I ‘aven’t told you about all of ‘em.”

“That’s exactly why she’s different, Harry.”

The siblings are quiet for a moment, the weight of Gemma’s statement settling atop both of them, a wool blanket that was appreciated, yet uncomfortable to the point of removal.

“So what do I do?” Harry bites the skin around his thumb nail. “Did I fuck it up for good?”

“Probably,” Gemma laughs, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Didn’t call y’for a laugh, Gemma,” he groans, resting a hand over his brow. “Coulda called ten other people if I wanted t’ be made fun of for being a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Hey,” her voice is curt. “You’re not an idiot, alright? Not even close.”

“Feel a bit like one.”

“Which you’re allowed,” she goes on. “But just because y’did something stupid doesn’t mean you’re an idiot overall. We’ve all done stuff we regret. Like the time I got a fringe because I thought it’d look good…”

“Wouldja ju-”

“Calm down, yeah?” Gemma laughs, getting back to the point. “What ‘m tryin’ to say is that we all make mistakes. If she’s as good of a person as y’ve made her up to be in your mind, she’ll at least be willing to hear you out.”

“‘ve already apologized excessively. Like to the point of it probably not even meanin’ anythin’...”

“Doesn’t matter,” she clears her throat. “Do it again. Do it with flowers - y’ said you brought her a bouquet of peonies?”

“Yeah.”

“Send her another. This time with some added shit to make it fancy - make sure it’s got a vase to go along with it. Nothing says “I’m sorry for calling you drunk and making you so uncomfortable that you had to give my account to your employee” like a bouquet of her favorite flowers.”

“Okay but th-”

“Not finished,” Gemma stops her younger brother. “Don’t just order them online. Go to a shop, make sure the arrangement is just as you want it to be, ‘n then hand write a note that goes along with it. Somethin’ that’ll make her smile. One of your stupid jokes or summat.”

“They’re not stu-”

“Still not finished,” she grunts. “She’ll have to call to say thank you. Or at least text.You’ve made her feel awkward, but she’s still professional, otherwise she wouldn’t’ve told you to sod off in the first place.”

“Well I think ‘sod off’ is a bit har-”

“Harry!”

“Okay, okay. ‘m sorry. Please continue…”

“Thank you,” she sighs. “When she calls, or texts, or whatever, ask her for dinner. And before you say no,” she quickly says as she hears Harry taking in a breath to interrupt his older sister yet again, “ask her as a friend. Say you know you’ve apologized plenty, but y’ feel really bad for what you’ve done and y’ wanna thank her for being nice and everythin’ she’s done for you. Promise her it won’t be awkward and that if she does feel weird about it, y’ won’t be hurt if she declines.”

“And what if she does decline?”

“She doesn’t hate you, kiddo,” Gemma tuts, her voice soft. “I don’t think she will. I think she was probably plannin’ on being your friend anyway, ‘specially because she’s so close with Nick. You just kinda freaked her out with the call.”

“Rightfully so,” Harry chimes.

“Yes, rightfully so,” she agrees. “If y’ don’t ask her, she can’t say no. But she also can’t say yes…”

“If I ask her to go as a friend, wouldn’t that just be lying?” he questions. “Because I don’t want t’ be her friend. I don’ want to be just her friend.”

“Think that’s all y’ can ask for at the moment. Rather have her as a friend than not in your life at all, right?”

“Guess so.”

“Harry…”

“No, you’re right,” he sighs, combing his free hand through his hair.

“Know I am.”

---

The day after calling Gemma, the flowers Harry ordered are delivered to your shop. Megan receives them, glancing at the card in the holder as she signs her name on the delivery slip. She runs to your office, squealing as quietly as she can in the industrial space.

“Oh my gosh!” she wiggles in your doorway, a wide-eyed toddler with a new toy. “Harry sent you flowers! Please tell me it’s Harry Styles. They’re peonies. They must be from Harry Styles!”

“Can I read the card, Meg?” you laugh, coming around your desk to take the vase from her. You pluck the small note from its holder, your mouth turning upward when you see the handwritten message.

I’M STILL VERY, VERY SORRY. FOR THE RECORD, VINTAGE VELVET WAS THE RIGHT (SEXIEST) CHOICE. X HARRY

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s from him, all right.”

“What’s he sorry for?!” Megan can’t help herself - she’s braced against your desk, her face stuck straight into the beautiful pink and white blooms where you’d set them, her eyes wild as she tried to catch her breath.

“Nosy, nosy,” you shake your head, taking a smell of the flowers for yourself. “I gave his account t’ Carly after he called me on my personal number in the middle of the night,” you sit down again. “He was drunk and said he was calling because he wanted to hear my voice.”

“Wait,” Megan scoffs. “You gave Carly Harry Styles’ account because he called you in the middle of the night because he wanted to hear your voice?!”

“Yes.”

“I love you, but that is literally insane,” she huffs, plopping down into the chair opposite your desk. “Harry Styles personally delivers a bouquet of your favorite flowers to you, misses your voice and tells you so, then sends you flowers for telling you so, and then you give his account to Carly?! The job was almost done! Two weeks and it’d’ve been finished! And you give it to Carly?!”

“To be fair,” you smirk. “He sent the flowers after I gave the account to Carly.”

Megan looks at you, blinking slowly.

“What?” you laugh.

“Like that matters!” she throws her hands up in the air. “It’s Harry fuckin’ Styles!”

“I know it is,” you shake your head. “But that doesn’t mean he can call me whenever he’s drunk and wants a lay.”

“D’ya really think that’s why he was calling?” Megan asks, grabbing the card from the holder. “He said he wanted to hear your voice, right? Doesn’t sound like he was looking to boink you.��

“I’ve never gotten a drunken call at midnight with innocent intentions behind it,” you raise an eyebrow. “Have you?”

“Okay,” Megan considers your point. “Touche. But maybe he’s different! Everything ‘ve ever read about him points towards him be-”

“We’re not talking about what you’ve read,” you explain, taking the note from her hand and placing it underneath the desk calendar between the two of you. “He’s a good guy. He really is. But when that line is blurred or crossed or whatever, I have to redraw it, and you know that,” you look pointedly at Megan, willing her to understand your position. “So the account went to Carly.”

“Are you at least going to thank him for the flowers?”

“Of course!” you scoff, delicately running your fingertips over the petals. “I did what I had to do, but I’m not that mean.”

After eyeing the flowers for a bit longer, you shoo Megan back to work, reminding her that she still had to price the new pieces that had arrived earlier in the morning. You answer some emails while you decide on how to thank him.

Emailing seemed too professional.

A text seemed cruel - what string of emojis could you put together that conveyed how absolutely beautiful the flowers were, and that yes, you’d certainly forgiven him at this point?

You decide to call him, clearing your throat before clicking on his name.

“Hello?” Harry’s voice on the other line is unsure when he answers.

“Hey,” you chirp, hoping to set a positive tone. “Just calling because I wanted to hear your voice.”

Harry laughs then, a hearty chuckle that causes you to laugh as well.

“Suppose I deserve that one.”

“Maybe a little,” you smile. “I’m looking at a very lovely arrangement of peonies right now,” you glance over at the vase at the corner of your desk, the flowers pluming out of the sides. “Thank you for sending them. You didn’t have to.”

“Know I didn’t,” he shrugs, feeling a bit more confident at your positive tone. “Just wanted to.”

“Well, thank you,” you smile, slipping the note card from underneath the calendar that had just been flipped to February the day before. “Things with Carly are good, then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he affirms. “She’s great. You’ve taught her well.”

“I hope so. She’s a great part of our team.”

It’s silent for a few moments, but you’re unsure of where to take it from here.

“Listen, I-”

“Would y-”

You both begin speaking at the same time.

“Go ahead,” you say.

“No, it’s alright,” he clears his throat. “You go ahead.”

“I don’t even know what I was going to say,” you admit with a laugh. “So you go.”

“Okay,” he takes a breath. “Can I take you out to dinner?” his voice his nervous. “One last apology. Jus’ so it’s not weird if we ever see each other again. ‘n I promise not to make any advances,” he chuckles. “Jus’ two people goin’ out to dinner. As friends.”

You thumb the corner of the card, running your finger over his handwriting.

“I would really like that, Harry.”

---

The two of you plan to meet outside of the city in a small, quiet restaurant where you won’t be bothered. He feels wholly at ease when you greet him, your cheek warm against his when you offer it to him. The response was much more settling than the one you’d given him the last time he’d met up with you - this time, at least, you weren’t cowering away from him.

He decides on the same glass of wine you’d ordered - a dry red that warms him from the inside out - and tries not to let his imagination get carried away when you smile at him in the dim candlelight of the bistro.

“Remember that magazine I was doing a shoot with?” you inquire, your hands clasped neatly in front of you after you’d both ordered your meals.

“Course,” he nods, placing his wine glass down on the table. “HGTV, was it?”

“That’s the one,” you smile. “Well - and you’re the first person I’m tellin’ this to, so don’t get any wild ideas about spreading this information to anyone else,” you point at him with an exaggerated eyebrow raise like you’d done after telling him about the initial photoshoot. “They’ve asked me to fly out to LA in early March. Preliminary meetings, I think, but they wanna talk about a collaboration of some sort.”

“That’s amazin’,” Harry grins, his smile genuine. “That’s...wow. Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” you sigh. “Not gonna get my hopes up or anythin’, but I’m pretty excited about it.”

“As you should be!” his eyebrows raise with the corners of his mouth as he grabs onto the stem of his wine glass. “Cheers to you, yeah? What a massive bit of good news!”

“Thank you, Harry,” you laugh, shaking your head as you lift your glass to his, clinking the rim of it to his. “Thought ‘d tell you the news, ‘cause you’re still the only one who knows about the magazine.”

His heart leaps in his chest at your confession, but he remains collected on the outside, changing the subject to something he’s more comfortable with.

“Have you ever been to LA?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, nibbling at the complimentary bread. “Flight’s a killer, but ‘m more than happy to make it.”

“Especially at this time of year. Early March in Los Angeles is a lot different than early March in London.”

“That’s very true,” you dip the crusty piece of bread into olive oil. “However, I will say I tend to miss dreary ol’ London if ‘m away for too long. LA is such a different world. Everyone is so nice - it boggles the mind, if I’m honest,” you smile when Harry lets out a laugh that could be qualified as a giggle. “What! It’s true! Always sayin’ thank you for this or that. I held the door open for y’ because it’s the proper thing t’ do, not because I wanted uncomfortable eye contact and a shoulder squeeze in return. A nod of the head’ll do, as far as that goes…”

The two of you keep easy conversation throughout your meal, speaking about your favorite places to travel to. Harry’s pulse skyrockets when you frown in response to him saying he’d been to so many cities, yet never had the time to really explore them all. He wishes - with more willpower than he’d ever mustered for anything else, he’s sure of it - that one day, he’d get to visit those places again. The next time, with more places to explore. The next time, with you.

You exchange stories about Nick and Harry makes you laugh so hard, you shed a tear or two at his anecdotes. He’s got an eerily accurate impression of his best friend, and he’s glad he got to use it on you. With the pressure of not reading into everything you say or do, Harry finds it effortless to be himself.

And, if he’s reading you correctly, you seem to enjoy this version of Harry.

A version he hadn’t allowed himself to show, up until now.

“Any travel plans for you, then?” you ask, steering the conversation away from your shared contact in Nick.

“Actually,” he moves his plate away from him. “‘m goin’ to Jamaica next week.”

“Are you really?” you sip on your water, tucking the straw between your teeth. “You lucky bastard.”

“Well,” he rubs his nose with a smile. “It’s for work, but it probably won’t feel like it.”

“What work, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Recording. Gonna do this whole solo thing, I guess.”

“Recording your album? The first one?”

“The first one,” he nods, tapping his knuckles against the table. “Got everythin’ in place, so now’s all I have to do is record.”

“Well that’s not nearly as big of a deal as me going to LA for a meeting, but I’m sure you’ll get to that level someday,” you jeer, winking at him. When he scoffs, you laugh, shaking your head. “Really, Harry, that’s incredible. Y’must be so ready to get started. Must’ve been waiting for years to do this, yeah?”

“Guess so,” he rubs his palms on his thighs. “Bit scared, if ‘m tellin’ the truth.”

“You’d be mad not to be scared, I think.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree, setting your glass of water down. “You’re scared because it means something. If you weren’t, that’d be more telling than anything, I think. It’s good of you to be nervous. Means you’re doin’ it right.”

He smiles at you in response, a closed-mouth symbol of gratitude. Everyone had told him not to be nervous - not to be scared. You’d been the first to make him feel like it was okay to fret over it. Relief floods over him and it’s the calmest he’s felt in months, all because you’d reassured him with a simple shrug and a flit of your hand.

“Excuse me,” the hostess who’d sat you approaches the table.  The two of you look up, and she takes a step back, obviously intruding on a moment that was only meant for two. “I really hate to bother you but...if you are who I think you are…” she trails off, her voice shaking.

“Think I probably am,” Harry chuckles, running a finger down his chin. “‘m Harry,” he sticks out his hand, standing up as he does so. “What’s your name again?”

“Vanessa,” she nearly whispers, her fingers unable to quit fumbling at her sides.

“Vanessa,” Harry nods, as if he’d known it all along. “Nice to meet you, Vanessa.”

He glances at you in apology, but you shake your head and encourage him to continue. You must’ve figured that this was a part of being around Harry - how could you not have known that this was bound to happen at some point? You let him chat with the trembling girl who was nearly ready to combust, smiling at how gentle Harry was being with her. He’d likely comforted his fair share of girls just like Vanessa, you were willing to bet.

“Would you like me to take a picture?” you chime in.

“Oh, God!” the hostess laughs, grabbing onto your bicep when you stand up. “Yes, please. If that’s okay with…” she looks at Harry, who is intently focused on you.

“Of course,” he glances back at his fan, tucking his arm around her while you stand in front of them, taking a couple of snapshots before handing Vanessa’s phone back to her.

“Thank you so much,” she says to the both of you before tucking her phone in her pocket. “Enjoy the rest of your date.”

Harry thanks her, wishing her a good evening, before glancing back at you.

“A date,” you run your fingertip underneath your bottom lip. “She must’ve not heard about our agreement…”

“Must not’ve,” he clears his throat, sliding his finger down the condensation of his water glass. “Didn’t have to do that, y’know. Take that picture…”

“Know I didn’t,” you shrug, mimicking his words from your earlier phone conversation. “Just wanted to.”

Harry keeps good on his promise, and when he walks you to your car, he gives you a hug. You kiss him on the cheek, thanking him for the meal and conversation.

“I had a great time,” you admit.

“I did, too.”

You grip the handle to your driver’s side door, turning back to him before opening it.

“Thanks again, Har-”

“My birthday was yesterday,” he blurts out.

“What?” you release the handle, facing him fully. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“t’s not a big deal,” he shakes his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “But the new house is almost done, and it was m’birthday, and ‘m leavin’ for Jamaica for a whole month, so ‘m havin’ a party.”

“At the new place?”

“Yeah,” he bites his lower lip. “Kind of a housewarming slash birthday slash see-you-in-a-month kind of deal.”

“Quite a few slashes,” you note.

“I want you t’ come.”

“Okay,” you nod, sniffling due to the cold winter’s air.

“Carly said she’d come when I asked ‘er today, ‘cause she’s put together everything so nicely, but you’re the one who designed it all. Nick’s comin’, so’s basically my whole family. Y’don’t have t’ come if y’ don’t want to, but it’s your party too because you had such a big part in everythin’. But don’t feel pressured into it, because I don’t want y’ to feel like it’s something you have to do,” he bounces on his heels, looking up at the dark February sky.

“Harry,” you place a gloved hand onto his forearm. “I said I’d come.”

“Oh,” he stops bouncing, looking at you. “Oh. Okay. Great. Good!”

“I’d love to,” you smile. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

He resists rolling his eyes.

As if he’d spent any moment - waking or otherwise - in the past two months not thinking of you.

“Course,” he leans in for another hug, pleased when you accept it, your nose cold against the exposed skin on his neck. “Tomorrow at seven. You know the address,” he smirks at his own joke as he pulls away.

“I’ll be there,” you squeeze his arm before stepping to your car again.

“Text me when you get home?” Harry questions. “Just so I know you’re safe?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “See you tomorrow, Harry. Thank you for dinner.”

He tips his head to you, waving your car off as you drive away. On his walk back to his own car, he pulls out his phone, clicking on his sister’s name in the recent messages.

You know how much I hate saying this, he types. But I’ll always give credit where credit is due. You were right. About everything. xx

[air--bag]

I really don´t know how to start this, or it´s future implications, or if you still use Tumblr, or if you still remember me, or if you´´ll ever see this or if it´s going to be read by someone. But even if this go invisible for  centuries or forever I need to put this somewhere so I can be a bit more free and maybe one day you´ll read this  and finally you will know my feelings for you. (Sorry for the shity grammar and ortography or for mixing spanish words but im kinda lazy and this is really long, so ill just leave it as it its)

I was 13 years old the first time I saw you, it was the second day of school our professor came in when class had already started and in front of him there was a new student, it was indeed someone new. Since the first time I swa you, I knew you weren´t from here, you were so diffren to all of us. We were plain and common stupid suckers that only thought in when to lose virginity and to get waste for the first time in our lives; but you didn´t seem to be that kind of person. you seemed to be quite more deep. THe first time I talked you I thought you were really old and you fucking hated ll of us., it´s kinda of surprising  how close you came to be for me, after that first encounter. We eventually become friends, I don´t know how but it happened and actually you turned up to be really fucking cool I mean you were the shit. .You were like really something else, i mean your overall style, and you were a talented drawer (you are still ive seen some of your shit and tis really great). and yu were a cospayer. So in conclsuion we were lightyears from beenso cool like you... From that first year I don´t remeber to much, just htat you lost someon important in your life, and I still remeber how you didn´t go to school and the night that, with a friend, i went to see you. I kept talking to you during vacations and that made so happy because I fucked it up, but about that I will talkin other part of this text Oh, and I started to listen to bands like Asking Aleexandria and some metal shit that was reallly cool and thank you for  showing me those bands.. So vacations, ended January was realy cold, and for thee very firt time I started to use my hair long. Of course people laughed at me, it was really a messy hair but I kida liked... To this day my har is really important its like my force its on my hair, without my hari I wouldnt be the same. That year we started kind of apart till our firen, that in this text im going to call Jordan, was expelled from school and sso it was you and me. I know that we had other friends like the one that in here im going to call Alfonso, and many oters, but principally it was you and me. One day for some reasin our cases were changed and we had to move to ihter class that was bigger I think. And since i was lucky that Jordan expeleed (dont get me wrong, I mean, i felt bad for Jordan but deep inside of me, to have you for me in the class, was like winning an oscar, the lottery o winning nobel prize) So basically from march to october we sat next to each other, and that march was the beginning of one of the best time s of my life. I remeber how to see you in my left side, focused in whatever you were draing,, that year you started to draw with rapidografos, and actually your were improving, yowere going to more anime conventions, you were improving your cosplays to. That year I started to watch anime, just have some other things in common with you, porbably without ou I wpuld have never seen anime bugt bracause of you I did, and I lied to you saying tat I did watch anime since12 years old or something like that. So I talked to you about your drawings, or music, or anime, or movies, or conspiracy theories, or how you were dying because got varicela, about videogames, about life, about books, about your cosplas, about everthing, absolutely everinght. We laghed, we played with each.. there was a time actually that we played with water and we kinda of enede u wet, we play with our foot, with our hands ( you used to make the triforce symbol with your hands and was a fucking hell to me t do it) we aughed, with the we were becoming really close... You were becming my best friend... I reaally enjoyed to go to scholol beacuse you were going tp be by my side, the morning would end fast and will had the time of my life, and those years I felt really really fine. Prbably without you hat yer would be boring, and I dont knwow , maybe it would´ve been a more difficult year for me. I would got bullied or something like that. But nothing bad happened that year actuallly it was one of the best years. During that time w=you became really close to Dr. dooferschmitz(Im calling him like that, i hope you know who im talking about) and to Monica ( you know, the girl that was best friend of the Dr. dooferschmitz) so I kinda of felt apart, I mean were laughing and stuff but I started to feel afraid that I nothing for you and that eventually you would throw me away,( of course you didn´t do thatt, know its imposiible for me to think of you doing that) and I was afraid of losing you, and that added up with the many new emotiones that I had, my fear and so many other things, made me to epeat my mistake from thae year before, I started to treat you with coldnes, I ingnored you I treated you bad, and to this day I still regreat hat. You were the last persons that deserved that, and I took you apart from me and I don´t know, why I didn´t gave an effort to avoid to hurt you i just don´t know. I fucked it up again...But agin you kinda forgave me, and seriously thank seriously losing you and those moemnts would be a tragedy for e thank you for been so cool for being amazong an for  keep beign my friend. So we kept talikng and beign friends and things become brighter for me again, going to school was my favorite thing in the world this become colorful. You know they say that when youre in love things become colorful and I agree withem, beacause hen I remember those days thers like a feeling that make it so romantic, something in the sun or in the sky or in the color of the walls make those memories really special and beatiu,, even when i was dying of boredom in the church to think that that nex t day I would be talking shit with you made me feel excitedl. My love for you was growing more and more  You were there, you showed me cool music, I was hapy with that music, with the animes you recommended me , and basiclly with life itself. My happines had no end or I thought so. We came out of school , we kept talking almost everyday day as we did in the months before, we talked through skype, i remeber seeing you making some cosplays, you were wearing a dinasour pijama that to this day, I still love, you presented me thorugh skype to shini  and I remeber how it hurted o not talk you, it was a hell to be without you, it was kinda of infectious beacause I came to depend on you its never good in any kind of relation, but yet all that pain was healed when I talked to you again.. But we started to talk less, you moved to another school, I moved to other school, and even though we still talked every now and then, thngs were changingand I did notice that. Things we re becoming gray, life started to be boring, but yet, somehow, my love for you still kept growing, buut that year (2014) we talked almost nothing. There was a day that I saw you, it was tests-week so I came out early and I was going to see you, I remember how my legs were shaking and the hug i gave you when i wsaw you, i threw you my jacket and you thre w it backt to me and th then whe huged like for a minute repeating ecac other how much we mieed us. God, you were so beatiful that day, actually i havent talked about how beatiful you are, I mean you are funny intelligent, bright, clever, how you ended up beign in this shitty city? fuck, youre so beatiufl, I love your light lips, your tiny nose, youre honey eyes, your snowy skin, your voice, your laugh, Iwas stupid in porpuse just to make you laug and the to go to heaven for a few seconds by the power of your laugh. God I really thought you were perfect,its curious because, I knew that there were things i didnt liked from you but at the same time i liked the beacuase those things made youyou, and fuck you were so beatiful in all the posiible ways, metaphsiclly, physcilly you were jus beaitulf, and realy fucking loved you a lo a lo t lot, i dreamed of you, of holding your hand, of kissing you, of sharing life with you, whit brojke the atmosphere and went to the space, ravelled to far away galaxies and was loving you I was just happy and in love I didnt care about anything ese but you. I enojyed to se your face every morning, how you putted your legs on the desk, all your gesture, i loved  the time i holded a part of your body, i loved your smell that to this i havent forget , i remeber how the sun shined and crashed in your hair as in a trigo field. I was so lucky so so lucky, you made everything else beatiful, as if there was some kind of power inside you that transformed everythin around you, to thins day i think that you were a god, and or  wanted to experience human life and so came own to the mortal war and picked anyone to be around with and for destiny reasons i was one of those lyucky basards. You were so different from this shity world. One day you invited me to your house to watch jack frost ovies ( i dont remeber its name) and at some point of that day we were ion your rooftop sitting next to each other, weather, was fresh, sky was blue as an ocean sun was warm and soft, and you were beatiufll, and i felt love and calm, everything was balanced everything, was more than ok, everything.... Life can be cruel sometimes, I think that its part of what makes all of this beaiufl, its tragical factort.... life is like that... our perfect circle ( or at least mine) broke and the only thing that i could do was  accept it and move on, but i never did that, . wel till last year, 2016 was a good year for me and it mean an advance in my life. But every time I finally move on form you I crash with sometihing, I dont know what it its. Something ive been realizing is that I will never forget you, cause what you did in its sobig that i cant just ignore it, everywher i go i will see afraction of your beatiful eyes, every time I love there weill be a part of me, that eventually will thin of you. IYpu fell in love with new people, you trvelled, and I stayed here, and I decided that finaly have to let you go. even though the things you gave to me will always come with me , the beautiness you showe med will always lay in my heart as if its writeen in stone , those beatiful memories will always be inside of me. Enven if as i became older those meories start to blur I kow that in some part of me, those memories will be there, and so you will be. Actually my life  can be seen as a life  before and after you. Before I met you, I was sleepwalking, I woke up, ate my brakefast, came from school, doing nothing during afternoons, going to church in sundays, repeating everything that was told to me, the only human from tha pat me was my desperate effort to fit somewhwere, to be like tthe popular guys, I dressed like them, I tried to be like them bu the real me wasn´t even clse to be like that. The pepole that formed part part of my life was stupid, boring, plain and I hated them. And then theres you, you were a real human, you dressed as you wanted to dress, you llistened the music you wanted to, you didn´t care what the people said, you just were a strong powerful color in the middle of thiss that gray schooI remember how teachers wanted to make you pray, and tried to obligate you  to change yourself , cause they didn´accept anthing that was different to them, and you revealed to them, you sttod up with your beliefs withyourself and ddn´t leet them to denigrate you or to destroy you, you stood p and were yourself and that inspired me. Cause you know I´ve always een a lie, to this day my parents don´t know my sexuality nor that I´m agnostic, they think that Im still that christian boy who loves god and will marry when he graduates from university. Bu actually I´m not beacause you opened my mind, o talk with you, to hear you to see howyou was exciting refreshing, an experience itself it opened my mind, it showed me that theres was world outside waiting for me to l ived it, you showed me that I have a mind and a soul and that Im someone, and that Im a fucking person, that Im a fucking person dude, it ound strange but I didn´t kew that before I met you. You know what´s funny? Thath you weren´t noticing all this things you were transfroming in me, just by been yourself you blosoomed the best of me , Dude I loved you, i really fucking loved you whit all that I had, even if was young, stupid, preteantious I loved you. I loved you I fucking fucking loved you I fucking loveeed you sooo much , My only regret in this life is to be so coward to never took the courage to tell you this and love you even more. Dude thank you for been there when life was shity, thank you for been my best friend whe I was completely alone, thank you for all the fucking great bands that you sowed me, thank you for opening my mind and been one the most influencial things in my ife and to start this fire that become me in the person I am. I know im not perfect and Im not better than anyone, but just to imagine what kind of personI I would be if I would never met you, scares me, I was full of hate and anger while I sleeped and you woke me, you gave me the srenght to move on, you gave me love, lfe, empath, forgivness. Yeah, there were bad times, there were shity things, asi in everything in this world, but there was something inside of me where to hold on. You were my big bang, you gave me a breath of life and since that i been moving on. Thank you dude, seriously. But for now I have to defintily let you go. Ive been trying to move on from you but its kind of impossible if I dont release all my feelings in some way. So I have to let you go. I don´t know what life has for me or for you but I hope its the best for both, and I hoped that you find your way if you havent, I hope that you love someone with all your heart and that someone loves you with all its heart too and that you fly acroos the atmosphere and shine like stars through space and time even after you die... Your light will still shine in this world and in aliens world and the universe will receive that light with love. If you don´t know what to do in life, do as Boukowski said: Find something you love and let it kill you. You´re talentful and intelligent and I hope that you go far in this life. Please take care of you, of your mental health ofr your physical health please, love yoursefl. Dude, always always fucking remeber how beatiful you are, how amazing you are, anhow much love you can give to people. To this day you are one of the most amazing person  I met and  think you will always ben in my list of the coolest persons in the worldyou will always hvae a part of my heart, and wherever I go, whatever I do, I will have you somewhere inside of my heart, that part is forever yours. I loved you a lot a lot.  Im sorry for the shit i did to you, thank you for been an important parf of what saved my life.Thank you for beign yourself, for beign so real, for beign so brave, for beign  amazing. Thak you for beign my first love, I couldn´thave been anymore lucky... I have to let you go, and I have to move. Keep in mind that somwhere, someone will have a part of you inside of him. I hope you the best and I remebered you that i loved you with all my fucking, heart, soul mind, thoughts, with absolutly everything I had,... Dude, all my love and best wishes for you... Goodbye...

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

In Case of Emergency

Fandom: Supergirl Rating: T Summary: In which smol Alex is basically Kari from The Incredibles. And special guest appearance by the Super Friends via framing device! A/N: Idea came from this post. 

...

“What is this?”

That Spring Cleaning has become a group affair is entirely to blame on Kara's insistence that the Super Friends haven't been spending nearly enough time together. Winn and James agree, of course, but they'd honestly prefer something like...mini-golf, or maybe trying out the new Italian place down on Third.

But, no. Spring Cleaning it is. For some reason.

(Neither mentions the cardboard box with large, angry Kryptonian text in thick black marker scrawled on the side, sitting in the hallway and filled to the brim with the personal effects of one recently relocated Daxamite prince.)

“That's a box, Winn,” Kara teases him, easily moving the bookshelf (books, knick-knacks and all) back where it belongs as James gathers up the chord to the vacuum.

“Har har,” Winn rolls his eyes and hoists the box from its hiding place, “I noticed, thanks. And I also noticed this,” he pivots the box so that both James and Kara can read the label.

In wide, wobbly letters, the words: KARA KIT stare back at them.

James tilts his head to the side as Kara's mouth drops open.

“That—it's—”

“Ooooh, now I'm curious,” James follows Winn to the kitchen table, where he deposits the box and begins pulling on the cardboard flaps. “Hey, man. Wait for Kara to say it's okay.” Winn pulls his hands back sheepishly. “You're gonna say it's okay, right? You gotta say it's okay.” There's a light, teasing quality to his voice, though Kara knows if she were to tell them no, they'd both leave it be.

Oh, they would whine, certainly. But they would respect her wishes.

“I don—” she begins to say, but the front door opens, interrupting her.

It's Alex, who comes bearing pizza and the promise of two more visitors, once Maggie and M'gann get off work.

“Dude, gross, get the dusty boxes off the table, come on,” Alex nods towards the item in question, and punches Winn's shoulder.

“Do you know about this?” James points at the box and turns it so that Alex can read the writing.

Kara watches the exchange, and feels a mighty groan coming on.

Because Alex grins slowly, setting the pizza aside.

“Ooooh yeah I do,” she says, “I made it.”

“I'm sensing a story,” Winn declares, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge and gracelessly maneuvering a cheesy slice of pizza onto a paper plate. (Since all of the actual plates are...missing in action. Thanks to Spring Cleaning.)

“Come on,” Kara protests feebly, though she still joins the trio on the couch, swiping a mere three slices as opposed to her usual five. “Alex. No.”

James grins and pats Alex's shoulder.

“Alex, yes.”

Alex was fourteen, and growing to hate the phrase, keep an eye on her.

Keep an eye on her meant Saturday nights spent at home, because no way was she taking her alien sister to the movies to hang out with her friends.

Keep an eye on her meant perfect waves, wasted, because Kara was doing something weird and she had to paddle back to shore and put an end to it.

Keep an eye on her meant risking grievous injury on numerous occasions, because the alien invader had all this superhuman power pent up in her per-pubescent frame, and absolutely zero means of controlling it.

“Keep an eye on her, sweetie,” her mom said, grabbing her coat and heading for the door. “We'll be back later tonight.”

“Ugh, come on,” Alex grumbled under her breath. Kara pretended like she couldn't hear, which would have been funny, if Alex didn't find it so annoying. “She's like, thirteen. She can look after herself.”

Her mom's hand wavered over the doorknob.

“Alex...why don't you...come out to the car, real quick,” she said with forced patience. And Alex had to bite back more grumbling, because great, now she was going to get a lecture on top of it all.

(It was her own fault, she knew.)

They walked out to the car, passing the small yet noticeable chunk of missing driveway from where Kara caught her foot and tripped last week, and the patch of burnt sod from a heat-vision mishap.

“Alex,” her mom started to say, taking a deep breath. Alex braced herself for the worst, fists clenching at her sides and shoulders going stiff. “Please.”

Well. Alex certainly hadn't been expecting...that. Nor was she prepared for the desperate exhaustion in her mother's voice. “Please just look after your sister for a few hours.”

There was something about the way her mom's coat hung on her shoulders—like it was suddenly too heavy for her, too much to bear. She was slumped inside it, weary and winded.

Alex thought about how stressful it was, suddenly having to share a bedroom with an alien.

It never really occurred to her that it might be just as stressful, suddenly becoming that alien's parent.

“Yeah, whatever,” Alex said, unable to drain all the sulking from her tone, but apparently it was enough to appease her mom.

“Thank you,” she said with what sounded like a grateful sigh. She unlocked the car and climbed in, reminding Alex of emergency numbers and which neighbors would be more apt to help, should they need it.

“Not the Stanfords...they're still angry about the window incident.”

“'Kay.”

“Mrs. Jimenez should be fine—or, no, wait...the fence—”

“Mom,” Alex said, cutting her off. “We won't need help. It's like. Three hours. Barely.”

“Never hurts to be safe.”

“Bye, mom.”

“And remember—”

“Bye, mom,” Alex called over her shoulder, not quite stomping back to the house...more like. Walking with purpose.

Kara was, unsurprisingly, exactly where Alex left her, still pretending she hadn't heard anything.

“I thought the glasses were supposed to keep you from doing that,” Alex said, stalking towards the couch. She absently brushed the inside of her forearm, the pads of her fingers registering the raised line of skin.

Kara picked at the hem of her sweater.

“Um. Stop me from doing what?” she tried to play innocent.

“I know you heard,” Alex said flatly.

Kara slumped. “It wasn't on purpose.”

Alex sighed. “It never is.”

She fell back on the couch and fumbled for the remote, turning the TV on and flicking  to one of the movie channels. Kara took a seat on the far end of the couch, reaching for one of the throw pillows as she did so.

(The throw pillow in question was threadbare and lumpy—a fairly recent development that seemed to coincide with the arrival of an alien who liked to twist it out of its shape whenever she was anxious or simply unsure of what to do with her hands.)

“Are...” Kara started, “...are you gonna watch a movie?”

“Maybe,” Alex shrugged, the heat gone from her voice. She was too tired to stay mad right now. She just wanted to tune out for a bit, watch some mindless TV. “...Yeah. Probably. Can you get the—” there was a blur of movement and some of the loose papers on the end table fluttered to the floor, only to skitter across the room as Kara came speeding back in. She slowed, but not quick enough, feet tangling in the rug as she came to a stop.

She stumbled, of course, and though Alex wasn't concerned for Kara's safety (Kara would be fine, after all; Kara could hit a brick wall at mach ten and emerge unscathed) but she was concerned for the vase Kara knocked over on her way down.

It landed with a loud crash, splitting into several large pieces upon impact.

So familiar a sight it was, however, that Alex just groaned in exasperation and made her way to the kitchen on auto-pilot. She bypassed the broom and dustpan, instead heading to the junk drawer, intent on locating some crazy glue.

(Once upon a time, the Danvers replaced the items Kara broke. It soon became apparent that such a habit would be too costly to maintain. Thus, crazy glue and duct tape were never in short supply, it seemed.)

Alex tugged the drawer open, and frowned. The spot usually occupied by the blue and orange tube was bare, save for a few bent paperclips.

So Alex headed for the study instead, quietly fuming the whole way. She was going to get in trouble for this. Somehow. Some way. She would get the blame.

She found a spare tube in one of the drawers in her dad's desk, and returned to the living room. Kara was still there, kneeling beside the ruined vase. “Sorry, sorry!” She was apologizing profusely as she gathered the shards and attempted to fit them back together like puzzle pieces. “I didn't think—I didn't mean to run. Really. I just...I wanted to be quick, and my feet kind of—”

“I know, Kara. Just...gimme that,” Alex said, reaching for the pieces. Kara obeyed mutely, handing them over, and watching with sad, sheepish eyes as Alex tried to fix the vase. Like a scolded puppy.

“Did you get the TV guide, at least?” Alex asked after a frustrating eight minutes of slotting the ceramic into place.

Kara handed over the rumpled newspaper insert. Alex put the (now lopsided and sticky) vase back on the end table to dry, and flipped through the pages. Kara curled up on the end of the couch, eyes downcast, pillow twisted out of shape in her lap.

Traitorous sympathy rose in Alex's chest, storming in like an uninvited guest. She was almost moved to offer some words of reassurance and comfort.

But then her eye was caught by one of the movies in the eight PM timeslot.

The sympathy vanished, displaced by a sort of scheming mischievousness.

“I know what we're gonna watch,” Alex said, grabbing the remote once more. “Okay?”

And Kara...sweet, naive, eager-to-please Kara, just nodded.

“Okay.”

For a while, the plan worked perfectly.

Because all Alex wanted to do, really, was give Kara a bit of a hard time. Mess with her. Make her sweat a little, to make up for being such a pain. (Unintentional, sure, but a pain nonetheless.)

The Jurassic Park movies weren't even all that scary. They was tame, compared to some of the other stuff Alex had seen. So Kara squirmed a little, hid behind the pillow one or two times, but mostly tried to put on a brave face and make like she was enjoying this.

“Liking it so far?” Alex asked with a smirk.

“Y-yeah,” Kara lied.

It was like that for a good portion of the movie.

Until.

(Alex should've known, and yet. Could not have known. Because Kara never told her.

Never explained what animals looked like on Krypton; what form of strange beasts plagued the inhabitants of Argo, or...Kandor...or wherever it was that Kara was from.)

Kara was already wound pretty tight, eyes wide and reluctantly fixed on the screen. Alex, of course, knew the film by heart. (Knew both films by heart, even if she thought the sequel was kind of lame—Lex and Tim were in it for like, two seconds, and no Dr. Grant or Sattler. What was the point?)

Alex could see the rigid fix of Kara's spine, pressed as far back into the couch cushion as it would allow.

The characters crept along on screen. The music died off. Sound effects tapered off almost completely.

Alex looked askance.

The T-Rex burst through the foliage.

Kara yelled.

“SNAGRIFF.”

There was a flash of light as Kara's heat vision went off, momentarily sending dark spots across Alex's vision before she turned away, shielding herself from the bright blue beam. There was a fizzling sort of POP that followed, and a dull roar. Alex lowered her arm and stared at where the TV used to be, now just a smolder heap of ruined plastic and wires and flames.

Flames.

“Kara!” Alex yelped, jumping over the back of the couch. “Kara, use the—put out the—do the super-breath thing!” her voice cracked with panic.

And Kara. Kara tried. But she was clearly freaking out, and Alex could see that the glasses weren't sitting straight on her ears—could see that a dozen different sounds were filtering past her weak defenses. So when she went to put out the fire...she missed.

She missed, and froze the arm chair.

Alex let out an unintelligible shout of frustration. She'd have to deal with this herself. “Damn it!”

Alex scrambled out of the living room, tripping over herself as she ran to the kitchen, fumbling with the cupboard beneath the sink.

Water, water, she repeated over and over in her mind until it occurred to her that they had no bucket and this sort of situation called for a fire extinguisher, duh.

By now, the smoke alarm had gone off, high-pitched beeping filling the house.

Alex didn't bother with shutting the cupboards, she just ran for the garage, cursing the fact that the fire extinguisher was so far away. Why wasn't it like. Inside the house?!

She nearly missed the four stairs leading down into the garage, and managed to catch herself before turning her ankle on the bottom step. She kicked aside cardboard boxes and all but fell onto the metal shelving unit against the far wall, hands running over an assortment of spray paint, camping gear, and  Turtle Wax (so much Turtle Wax—why did they have so many bottles?! They didn't even wash the car that often!) before brushing against the cool, slightly worn metal cylinder.

She tucked the extinguisher under her arm and tore back into the house, back towards the fire, and was quietly amazed that the room wasn't engulfed in flames. (To her mind, it hadn't taken five years to get the fire extinguisher; in actuality, the adrenaline had her there and back in mere minutes, if even that.)

Pin. Pin. Pin is a thing. She fumbled with it, eyes reading and yet not reading the directions for use. She recalled an incident one summer with some illegal fireworks in the backyard, her dad's patient explanation somehow piercing through the rising hysteria.

Pull the pin and aim at the base of the fire.

She did so with shaking hands, watching with sweet, sweet relief as the sodium bicarbonate did its job.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, smothering the flames. Probably longer than necessary, really. It was with obvious reluctance that she finally took a step back and ceased the spraying.

With the fire out, and the extinguisher dangling in her grip at her side, the room was filled with only the sound of her ragged breathing, and the smoke alarm.

The sustained beeping was all she could think about, all she could focus on. It was hard to decide if the ringing in her head was from the alarm or just her ears, maybe. Eventually, her brain started formulating coherent thoughts.

And of course, the first and foremost of those thoughts:

Kara.

Her eyes darted around the room, but Kara wasn't there—hadn't been there during Alex's frantic attempts at flame suppression, had been missing since Alex had yelled for her to put out the flames with the...they needed to think of a better name than 'super breath.'

So she wasn't in the living room. She wasn't in the entryway either. She didn't remember seeing her in the kitchen...

“Kara!” Alex shouted, charging up the stairs. She probably didn't need to yell, but it felt appropriate, given the current circumstances. “Kara, where—oomf.”

And suddenly there she was, arms wrapped around Alex's middle, face buried against her shoulder, crying into her sweatshirt. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry.

Alex sank to her knees, and Kara followed (not like she had much choice) and Alex found herself hugging Kara back, sort of folded around her sister's smaller frame.

“No,” she muttered, “I'm sorry.”

She said it over and over, and it still didn't feel like enough.

Winn sniffs loudly.

“Are you crying?” James asks.

“Are you not?!” Winn shouts indignantly.

James ignores him and addresses Alex. “So you've kind of always been trouble, huh?” He's half serious.

Alex raises her bottle of beer, clearing her throat before taking a sip.

“...That's one word for it,” she says once she places the bottle back on the table.

“I thought like. We were going to get shenanigans and hijinks,” Winn's voice is watery. “You totally sold this as lighthearted and fluffy.” Kara pats him on the back as he drowns his sorrows in beer. Or attempts to. Kara switches out the bottle with a can of Sprite.

Alex rolls her eyes at the display.

“I'm not done yet,” she tells him.

Winn sniffs again, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“...What?”

“You think that was the only thing Kara set on fire?”

Alex didn't think she'd ever need to use the fire extinguisher again. The whole event had been traumatic enough that all involved were committed to never repeating it, either purposefully or accidentally.

“Did you borrow the CD player?”

It was weeks later, and Alex was making a conscious effort not to make Kara's life on Earth any more difficult than it already was. In fact, she was making an effort to lean into this 'older sibling' thing.

“Yeah. Do you need it back?” Kara looked up from her English homework as she answered.

“If you're not gonna use it,” Alex said, swiveling around in her desk chair. “I've got like. Five billion flash cards to get through.”

“I'll get it,” Kara offered, dog-earing the page and swinging her legs off the bed. She stood on slightly unsteady feet, which was...odd. For Kara. Well. Some of the time. Kara wasn't exactly what Alex would call graceful.

Still, she watched her closely as she rummaged through her backpack and withdrew the portable  CD player in question. (Alex really wanted an MP3 player, but she'd have to mow about fifty more lawns before that was even a remote possibility.) When she brought it to the desk, Alex noticed that Kara looked kind of...flushed. Like. The way people sometimes looked after spending the day at the beach—just a little too much heat.

“...You okay?”

“...I dunno,” Kara frowned, still holding on to the CD player. “...I feel kinda. Weird?”

“You can't get sick,” Alex felt weird herself reminding Kara of the fact. “...Did you eat lunch?”

“Yeah, I—” there was an audible crunch. They both looked down to see the plastic casing of the CD player cracked beneath Kara's fingers.

But Kara was barely holding the thing; Alex could tell.

Kara didn't even apologize, she just stared at her hand, and the broken CD player.

Alex silently reached for a roll of duct tape she'd taken to keeping close by, for situations such as this.

“Here, let me,” she said, extracting the item from Kara's (noticeably loose) grip. Kara let her take it, brow pinched with concern.

“I wasn't...” she looked at her hand and made a fist. “...I didn't even...”

“It's not a big deal,” Alex told her, wrapping the exterior in a layer of tape. “You didn't break the important stuff. It'll still work.” She placed a CD inside and pressed 'play' to illustrate her point. “...Well, okay, you broke the display so you can't see the track number, but. Who needs that anyway?”

“You've got them all memorized,” Kara said by way of agreement. Alex grinned with pride.

“Well, yeah.”

This seemed to put her sister at ease. She returned to her bed, and copy of Midsummer Night's Dream, flipping back to where she'd left off. “Did you guys really talk like this?”

“Guess so,” Alex said distractedly, mind already on the mountain of flash cards she needed to have finished and memorized before the test at the end of the week. She slid her headphones into place, finger poised above the 'play' button once more.

“So weird,” Kara muttered. And Alex couldn't see her face scrunch in concentration, couldn't see her frustration build as she struggled with the words.

But Alex could smell the smoke, once Kara burned through Titania's monologue. Literally.

“I wasn't even staring that hard!” Kara yelped as Alex stomped on the flaming book.

“Right,” Alex sighed, rolling her eyes.

“I swear!”

And it wasn't until Eliza and Jeremiah came running in with the fire extinguisher that Alex actually entertained the notion that Kara might be telling the truth, because they came bearing an explanation.

“Sol—”

“Solar storm! Solar storm,” Winn bursts out, throwing his hands in the air. “A solar storm messed with Kara's powers. Am I right? I'm right, right?”

James frowns.

“Dude. C'mon.”

“Way to ruin the flow, man,” Maggie says, nudging him in the side. Winn is undeterred by their ribbing, beaming proudly as he tucks his hands behind his head and props his feet on the coffee table. Until he removes them, catching a heated (figuratively, thank goodness) glare from Kara.

“You're...kiiiind of right,” Alex concedes.

“My powers were only affected because I was still new to the planet,” Kara explains. “Still adjusting? ...Eliza could explain it better.”

“Gee, thanks, Kar,” Alex drawls.

“...And Alex too, I guess,” Kara teases her sister.

“So, TV, book, part of the yard,” James counts off the destroyed items on his fingers. “That's an impressive list.”

“You can add 'Thanksgiving dinner,'” Alex tells him. James guffaws.

“You didn't,” he says.

Kara sighs.

“I did.”

Alex got straight A's, an MP3 player, and her very own fire extinguisher that summer. The straight A's earned the Zune, and the fire extinguisher was a gag gift more than anything else.

“You can keep it next to the duct tape,” her dad clearly did not expect her to take the advice seriously.

But she absolutely did.

She had quite the collection going, actually. She was tired of tearing apart the house any time there was a broken glass or a melted shoe. She liked having her tools close at hand.

At first, she kept them on the desk, where they could both grab them as needed.

But. They both needed the desk space for actual desk stuff. Like homework. And, as the next school year started, the refurbished Mac their parents sprang for.

So Alex relocated the items to the cardboard box the computer came in, storing it under the desk for continued quick access.

As Kara's control improved, accidents became fewer and farther between.

Accidents.

Monitored experiments 'for science?'

Those started up in earnest, once Alex grew to appreciate the unique opportunity an alien sibling afforded.

“You think you could like,” Alex broached the subject one afternoon after school, “boil water with the heat vision?”

Kara considered this.

“I mean. I probably could. Yeah.”

“...We should check.”

Thus began a series of tests that resulted in melted silicone kitchenware, dented pots and pans, the complete re-wiring of the toaster, chiseling the blender from a block of ice, and more botched recipes than either Danvers sister could count.  

“I am...thrilled that you girls are getting along,” Eliza said, pressing her palm to her temple. “But get out of my kitchen.”

They were forcibly evicted from the room, and did not set foot in it again until months later when, in a serious lapse in judgment, Eliza allowed them to return, pressed for time and dealing with surly in-laws.

“Kara,” It was Jeremiah who addressed her, as Eliza hurried to finish the green beans. “Do you think you could...” he trailed off and nodded towards the turkey, eyeing the door to the dining room, making sure none of the extended family were looking this way.

“Um,” Kara fidgeted. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yes, of course.” He nodded firmly, even as Eliza glanced at them wearily over her shoulder. “A little bit of heat vision; it's just a little bit underdone.”

“This is a bad idea,” Eliza fretted. “The last thing we need is your family coming in here and seeing this and what if we all get radiation poisoning—?!”

“Hon, it'll be fine,” he assured his wife before turning to give Kara an encouraging thumbs up. “Right, kiddo?”

“...Sure hope so,” Kara tried to sound confident, and failed miserably. Of her powers, head vision was the most...startling? Difficult to gauge? She was getting the hang of it, but for more delicate tasks...such as reheating under-cooked turkey...well.

When the entire thing went up in flames (again, literally) Alex was right there with a cardboard box bearing the label: KARA KIT

She brandished her trusty fire extinguisher. “I got this.”

“There we go,” Winn nods, satisfied. “There's the light and fluffy.”

“So we can open the box now, right?” James rubs his hands together. All eyes slide towards Kara, who has her head in her hands, face beet red from embarrassment.

“Yeah, yes. Go ahead,” she flaps a hand at the box. “I mean you guys already know so. Why not.”

“I don't know why you're embarrassed,” Alex says as the boys tear into the cardboard box. “I'm the one who had to bare my soul and admit to being a horrible teenager.”

“Everyone was horrible as a teenager,” Kara argues.

“Mmm. Even on Mars,” M'gann chimes in. This prompts a laugh from the sisters...as well as the sudden, horrifying thought that, at some point, J'onn had been a teenager.  A child, even.

“Weird,” Alex mutters.

“So weird.” Kara agrees.

“Oh-kay,” Winn says, pulling the items from the box. “We've got the extinguisher (of course) aaaaand, looks like duct tape and glue. Just like from the stories, guys.” He tilts his head to one side and gives the girls a saccharin smile. “Cute.”

“Oven mitts?”

“For handling super-heated baking sheets,” Alex says, leaning on the table.

“Is that a welding mask?” Winn asks. And then, “Wait, wait. Where does your heat vision fall on the visible light spectrum? ...Should we all be wearing sunglasses for that?”

Maggie pushes past him and peers into the box, no longer content to sit on the sidelines. She wants in on this action. “A mirror,” she says, withdrawing the item in question. “Huh.”

James is the one who provides the explanation, surprisingly enough.

“It deflects heat vision,” he looks to Alex and Kara, who both nod. “Clark told us it's how he shaves.” James mimes the gesture, for good measure, though the accuracy was questionable at best.

“Ooooh-kay” Maggie says, processing the mental image of Superman having to shave in the morning. And then, after thinking about disparate amounts of surface area the two Kryptonians have to deal with, she gives Kara a sympathetic look. “Oh, God, that must suck.”

And they're all laughing now—even Kara, who's still a little pink, but mostly past the initial self-consciousness.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“I'm not gonna ask about the bricks,” James says, still removing stuff from the box. “...Okay, no. I'm gonna ask about the bricks and. Is that a leash?”

A new round of laughter starts up. Kara buries her face in her hands, her momentary relief short-lived. She's back to square one: complete and total humiliation.

Alex revels in it.

“Sleep-floating,” Alex says. “It's a thing.”

Notes: - Will I ever tire of referencing snagriffs? Survey says: Unlikely.