#HOW DID I NOT KNOW THAT PICTURE OF LOU EXISTED UNTIL TODAY?????

[shannondiazs]

maybe it was pet play... freak4freak confirmed [X]

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Co Parents To Lovers Again (part 3)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: fluff, smut this is the last part so I hope you enjoy it!!

part 2

It would be an understatement to say that Charles was over the moon when you and Louise showed up in the paddock on the race day. He was so delighted and happy that he had a hard time hiding it, and everyone present could see it.

He didn't separate from Lou, and he thanked you several times for bringing her and for coming with her telling you how much that meant to him.

Of course, you both attracted the attention of all the media, knowing that tomorrow the main news on the internet will be how Charles' ex-girlfriend appeared with his daughter in the paddock for the first time after a full year since the breakup.

The cameras were everywhere, but having learned from previous experiences, you decided to ignore them and pretend they didn't exist. All you were focused on was giving your daughter an unforgettable weekend and supporting Charles as well.

Lou got hungry so you and Charles decided to get her something to eat at the Ferrari hospitality. Lou didn't know what she wanted to eat, so Charles decided to leave his things at your table, including his phone, and said he would go with her to the restaurant to choose. While Lou went with Charles, you sat down at the table and scrolled through your phone waiting for them to come back.

“Am I seeing things or is it really y/n?” A very familiar voice asked you, making you look up from your phone.

“Carlos!” You smiled from ear to ear as you stand up to hug him.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you in the paddock. How come you’re here?” He asks curiously.

“Lou had a hard time accepting that she wouldn't be spending this weekend with her dad, so...yeah, here we are.”

“Oh man, he’s gonna beat my ass on the track today..” Carlos says shaking his head.

“What do you mean?” You laugh a little unsure of what he’s talking about.

“He always gives 110% on the track when Lou is there to support him, I can only imagine what it’ll be like today when you are there too.”

The two of you started catching up talking about what was new in your lives, what wasn't, and so on, until Carlos commented on Charles and Lou's relationship, saying that he really loves spending time with her and that he talks about her nonstop.

“She loves spending time with him too, he is her soulmate I’m sure.” You commented.

“And what about you? Is he your soulmate too?” Carlos asked catching you off guard.

Both you and Charles were close to Carlos and he pretty much knew everything about you and your relationship. He was also very angry with you when you broke up because he thought it was a bad decision and that you should have worked on your relationship and not give up on it so easily.

“I-I..” As you were trying to think of an answer to his question, at that very moment the screen of Charles's phone, which he had left on the table in front of you, lit up.

What caught your attention wasn't the notification he received, but your eyes got stuck on the wallpaper on his lock screen. It was a picture of you and Lou that Charles had taken shortly after you had given birth and came home from the hospital. You were lying on the bed and Lou was lying on your chest while you kissed her head.

It was a picture that was very dear to both you and Charles, and he had it as his wallpaper since the day he took it, and what surprised you the most was that he still had it to this day. Even though you were no longer together, he never changed it.

Carlos noticed what you were staring at and he basically took it as an answer to his question although he had already knew it.

“Uncle Carloss!!” Lou screamed with her mouth full of pizza as Charles carried her in his arms over to the table where Carlos and you were sitting.

“Hola, hermosa! Did you get hungry?” Carlos chuckled squeezing her cheek.

“Out of all the possible foods you can think of, my baby chose pizza.” Charles laughed sitting her down on the chair next to you.

You were completely lost in your thoughts and didn't even pay attention what the three of them were talking about. All you could think about was the picture you saw on Charles's phone and how you were getting closer to confessing your still deeply held feelings for him.

And of course today was just as Carlos said it would be. Not only did Charles beat Carlos’ ass on the track, but he also beat all the other drivers by proudly and deservedly taking P1. He couldn't let the win slip through his fingers in front of the two most important people in his life so he fought extra hard for it today.

When it was time to celebrate, your eyes filled with tears at how proud you were of him. First he celebrated with the team, then his eyes searched for you and Lou.

“You wanna congratulate daddy, baby?” You asked her and she nodded excitedly.

You pushed your way towards Charles with her in your arms and when you reached him he instantly hugged her and kissed her on the forehead.

“Good job, daddy!” She said.

“Thank you, baby. This one was for you.” He told her kissing her once again.

“Congratulations, Charles. We’re really proud of you.” You say softly smiling at him tears threatening to run down your cheeks.

“Thank you, y/n. Thank you for being here.” He said looking deep into your eyes.

The cameras went crazy over your family moment, closely capturing every interaction between you. It won't be until the next day when you see one of the taken photos of the two of you that it will become completely clear to you how your eyes are betraying you and showing how deeply and obviously in love you are with each other.

When the day was coming to an end, you didn't stay in the paddock any longer, but immediately got on the plane and flew to Monaco, all three of you together. Lou was completely exhausted and when you landed she was already asleep. Charles didn't offer but instead insisted on driving you to your apartment no matter how tired he was.

Charles, carefully so as not to wake her, carried her in his arms into her room and put her to bed. He kissed her goodnight before closing the door and going into the living room thinking he would say goodnight to you too.

“She’s sleeping like a log.” Charles chuckles quietly as he stands in front of you.

“Poor thing, she was so tired. She passed out as soon as we sat in the plane.”

“But I'm glad you came. Both of you. It really meant a lot to me to have you there.”

“I’m glad too. We had a lot of fun. Maybe we can come again sometime.” You say making him smile.

“Anytime you want” He says feeling that the conversation is slowly coming to an end. He wants to continue it so bad, but he knows that both of you are tired and with a heavy heart he has to leave, even though he would rather lie in bed with you now and hold you close to him all night.

“Okay, I’m gonna go now. It’s getting really late.” He says running his hand nervously through his hair while you bite the inside of your cheek so desperately wanting him to ask you if he can stay. “See you soon, yeah? Good night”

Before he turns around to head for the door, you decide that enough is enough. There have been so many obvious signs by now that it's not over between you and that you're still madly in love with each other that you don't want to waste another second being stubborn, but rather surrender to the moment and finally enjoy it.

“Or you can stay the night here..you know..i-if you want to” You blurt out stuttering the last part.

He turns slowly towards you. His expression is unreadable until he places his hands on your cheeks and asks you “Do you want me to stay?”

Without much hesitation, you nod your head and quietly say “I do.”

Initially, it was as if you were afraid to approach each other, as if you were afraid of each other's reaction even though both of you were hoping that the desire was mutual. Then his lips slowly and cautiously began coming closer and closer to yours.

At first, your lips just brushed, pulling back a little, and then they connected into a long, passionate and deep kiss that you both had been eagerly waiting for.

You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders as you let out deep breaths in relief you didn't even know you were holding in.

Things were moving quickly and you didn't waste any time getting to your bedroom. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he picked you up and without breaking the kiss, carried you into the room and laid you down on the bed.

Exhaustion was long forgotten when you took each other's clothes off and started kissing every part of each other’s body.

“I missed you, I missed you so much you don’t even know” He said into the kiss, barely catching his breath from the intense excitement he felt.

“I missed you too, Charles” You half whisper as he pushes into you and one tear rolls down the side of your face.

It felt so good. He felt so good inside you, fit so perfectly like he was made for you. He wanted to make love to you, to show you how much he cares about you so he kept going on and on making your legs shake so many times throughout the night, kissing every inch of your body, pulling you closer to him to calm you down, breathing in your scent and getting lost in your eyes.

“I’m gonna cum, baby” His voice trembled as he rested his forehead against yours and pulled his cock out of you cumming all over your stomach, hands free, then pushing himself back in and wincing.

You fell asleep with him holding you close all night. His arms were hugging you so tightly, as if he was afraid that if he let go even just for a second, he would wake up and it would all be just a dream.

The morning sun's rays didn't let you sleep past eight, so you spontaneously woke up together still in the same position you fell asleep in.

“Good morning ma cherie” He said with a kiss to your lips.

“Morning baby” You smiled caressing his cheek with your thumb. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm, very well” He murmurs against your skin. “And you?”

“Me too. I haven't slept this peacefully in a long time.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yeah” You glance at the clock out of the corner of your eye and see that it's almost time for Lou to wake up. “Oh shit, Charles you need to leave, Lou is about to wake up” You say nervously, which completely confuses Charles.

“What? What do you mean I need to leave? Why can’t she know that I’m here?”

“It's not that she can’t know it’s just that I want us to take it slow this time. I'm afraid of screwing this up because it feels so good and so right and I don't know if I could handle us hurting each other again.” You sigh as you explain your reasons to him. “And most of all, I don't want to break Lou's heart.”

He pauses for a moment to think about what you just said and realizes that it makes sense and that you're right. “Okay, baby. Don’t worry we’ll take things slow to make it right this time.” After all, he just wants to fulfill all your wishes and wants to make you happy with whatever you want. “So when do I get to see you again?” He asks and you laugh at his silly question. “What?” He asks confused.

“It's funny that you ask me that. You can see us whenever you want. It's just for a short time until we see how things develop and then of course we'll live together again.”

“I can’t wait for that.”

Soon he got out of the bed and got dressed. He kissed you barely breaking away from you before heading out of the bedroom. The door to Lou's room was open and so he walked slowly on his tiptoes, not wanting to wake her up.

But he realized that was in vain when, passing by her room, he heard “Daddy?!” He stopped in his tracks, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing quietly under his breath.

She’d already seen him and he couldn't leave now or get out of the situation in any way, so he decided to go into her room and say good morning to her.

“Hey, baby. Good morning”

“What are you doing here?! Did you sleep here?!” She didn't know what to ask him first from how happy she was that it was morning and he was there.

When the two of them appeared at your bedroom door, it was clear to both you and Charles that from that moment on, you were all living together again.

“Hi there” Charles said holding her in his arms and looking at you.

You didn't say anything, you just covered your face with your hands and started laughing before you uncovered the quilt and said "come here, both of you"

@charlesgirl16 @aleatorio1234 @teamnovalak @watermelonslut @diaryofarandomkid @sunny44 @tempo-rary-fix @ggaslyp1 @janeh22 @seonghwaexile @seasonswinter @itgirlofthecenturysposts @ricciardosredbull @amz824 @sarx164 @seonghwaexile @landossainz @little-miss-naill @taygrls @sturmatt @myescapefromthislife @stylesmoonlight12 @st4rgirl-ellie @eloriis @sillyfreakfanparty @rebelliousneferut @kahhorri @hard4ndsoft @weekendlusting

[art-of-manliness]

The Secrets to Bruce Lee’s Legendary Physical Training

Bruce Lee is a legend. He revolutionized movies and martial arts. He also boasted incredible strength and all-around physicality. Lee could place his fist one inch from the chest of a man twice his size and unleash a quick, cobra-like strike that’d send his opponent flying.  Lee could perform push-ups using just two fingers of one hand.  Lee wasn’t huge, but his lean, chiseled, defined physique was widely admired, and bodybuilders like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Lou Ferrigno, Flex Wheeler, Shawn Ray, and Dorian Yates all acknowledged the impact it had on their careers. Co-star and fellow martial artist Chuck Norris described Lee’s ripped physique as “muscle upon muscle.” A woman who asked if she could touch Bruce Lee’s flexed bicep (a common request he appreciated receiving) described it as “warm marble.” How did Lee develop his strength and physique? Was he simply a genetic freak? Nope. If you look at early pictures of the Little Dragon, he was a pretty scrawny guy. Instead of genetics, Lee systematically and relentlessly built his body with physical training. Thanks to the meticulous research of martial artist and writer John Little, we know exactly what Lee did to achieve his results. Little shares the details of Lee’s fitness training in his 1998 book Bruce Lee: The Art of Expressing the Human Body. The book is an absolute gold mine of fitness history and information, and I highly recommend picking up a copy. In today’s article, we take a look at the principles that informed Bruce Lee’s training and the components of his regimen that turned a man into a legend. The Moment Bruce Lee Got Serious About His Physical Training Throughout his childhood, Lee was incredibly active. He got in trouble at school, and his spiritedness drove him to mischief and street fights. If Lee had grown up in the 21st century, he probably would have been diagnosed with ADHD. His hyperactivity inspired his family to call him “never sits still.” To channel Lee’s energy into less destructive activities, his father signed him up for kung fu instruction under the tutelage of master Ip Man. Thus, at age thirteen, Bruce began the lifelong practice that would make him a worldwide legend. By the time Lee was in his twenties, he had developed enough physical conditioning to excel as a martial artist, but remained a skinny guy. Then came a moment that would take his physical training to the next level. In the early 1960s, Lee lived in Oakland, CA, and had begun teaching kung fu. Lee didn’t discriminate in who he took on as a student, and according to some accounts, some traditional Chinese kung fu masters in the area weren’t happy with him teaching the martial art to non-Chinese. So in 1964, they presented an ultimatum to Lee: take part in a kung fu battle against their best fighter; if Lee lost, he had to shut down his kung fu class. While different versions of exactly how the fight went down exist, according to Bruce, the fight lasted three minutes and primarily involved him chasing his opponent around a building until he forced him to submit. Despite winning, Lee was disappointed with how he performed. He was unhappy about the shape he was in and had begun to feel that the parameters of traditional martial arts were impractical for street fights. He concluded that to realize his full physical potential and become the best martial artist in the world, he’d need to move beyond kung fu and expand his repertoire of physical modalities. This moment of discontent not only inspired Bruce Lee to get serious about his physical fitness, but birthed a martial art and overall life philosophy he called Jeet Kune Do or the Way of the Intercepting Fist. The Sources of Bruce Lee’s Physical Training Philosophy In moving forward from the fight, Lee sought to develop a physical training system that emphasized “practicality, flexibility, speed, and efficiency” and drew from a wide range of training methods. While Jeet Kune Do sounds like a formal martial art style like Tae Kwon Do, Lee… http://dlvr.it/TB3vSk

[ibelieveinharrystyles]

Chapter Eight: Spaces Between Us

Life for Ashley was weird, although they were keeping their distance from each other, Harry insisted that a car came to pick Ashley up for work each morning, he was fearful that she would end up in a situation out of her control, and her safety was ultimately his main priority. Since Ashley ended things they had tried to remain as civil as possible, if they were going to be co-parenting a baby, they needed to at least be on good terms. She sat in the back of the car as it drove through the streets of London, the city that once felt like another world, had become the place she called home. The streets she once feared were now the places that held some of her fondest memories.

Roman greeted Ashley with open arms as she entered the studio for her last day at work, “Morning Ash, how are you feeling about today?” He asked.

“Scared, but I’m ready, I’m excited to focus all my time on my little ones, well Daisy isn’t so little anymore, she starts big school on Monday, it feels like yesterday I was standing in that kitchen with you when my waters broke.” Ashley reminded him.

“It’s been incredible working with you for the past few years, I know you’ve gone through a lot of shit since you’ve been here, but if you ever need anything, you can call me. I think of you like my younger sister, and that’s a bond for life.” Roman smiled.

“You’re a soft bugger Ro.” Her heart skipped a beat, that’s what she once called Harry, before life got all kinds of complicated. “We best get the show on the road then.” Ashley declared, taking a seat at the studio desk and putting on her chunky headphones for the final time.

“Good Morning! You’re listening to the breakfast show on Capital with me Roman Kemp, and for the final time Ash Hanson.” Roman told the listeners, “Seeing as it’s her last day on the radio, Ash has complete control of today’s tracks, so Ash what’s your first song going to be?” Roman asked.

“It’s a personal favourite of mine, and I think the lyrics are something we could all do with a little bit more of in our lives, this is New Rules by Dua Lipa.” Ashley announced just before the track began to play.

“That wouldn’t be a bit of shade thrown at a certain boyband member would it?” Roman whispered, now that they weren’t on air.

“Maybe.” Ashley smirked.

Flatpack furniture had always confused Harry, even though it was supposedly extremely simple to assemble, he found the instruction manuals no help at all, he had spent the first part of the morning trying to construct a crib for the baby. Although he wouldn’t have full custody of the baby, Harry felt that it was right for his future child to have a bedroom in his house. So here he was, random pieces of wood scattered across the floor, he had no clue what went where, or how to assemble it properly, he was losing his mind. The sound of the radio made up for the lack of silence in his house, since Ashley let him go, Harry had been listening to the breakfast show every morning, simply so he could hear her voice. He was meant to be meeting her at the hospital for an appointment at 11am, and wanting an excuse to abandon his flat pack furniture endeavours, he decided it would be best to pick Ashley up from work instead. 

Ashley left the Capital offices for the last time armed with several bouquets of flowers and gift bags, making her way to the underground car park where the Addison Lee usually waits for her, “Let me help you with that,” She looked up to see Harry smiling warmly at her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked as Harry took a couple of the bags from her.

“We  have that hospital appointment, and I didn’t like the thought of you getting the tube there.” Harry explained as they climbed into his car.

“I am a fully capable woman Harry, just because I’m pregnant it doesn’t mean I can’t get myself to the other side of London.” Ashley told him as Harry pulled out of the car park.

“I know that love, but if anything ever happened to you or the baby I could never forgive myself, I don’t want the press finding out and swarming you, especially when I’m not here to look after you.” Harry replied.

“What does that mean?” Ashley asked.

“I won’t be in the country when the baby arrives, I’m going to be in another film, I won’t be back until December.” Harry told her.

“It’s like that is it?” Ashley sighed, she had hoped Harry would be there when the baby came, she desperately wanted him there when Daisy was born, but that never happened.

“There’s nothing I can do about it Ash, I can’t ask you to come to America with me, Daisy starts school next week, I don’t want her to miss vital months of her education.” Harry explained as they pulled into the hospital car park, still overly concerned about Ashley’s safety, Harry was paying for her to go to a private maternity hospital, meaning details of her pregnancy were much less likely to be leaked.

“Hello you two, how’s everything going today?” Kirstie, the midwife asked as she entered the consultation room where Ashley and Harry were waiting. 

“Wonderful.” Ashley answered bluntly in response to Harry’s previous revelation.

“So we’re here to talk through the birth plan, have you decided what’s happening? Mr Styles you’re most welcome to be there.” She explained.

“He’s out of the country when the baby’s due.” Ashley said bitterly.

“That's okay, is there anyone you want there with you?” Kirstie asked.

“It’ll probably have to be Lou or Harry’s sister Gemma.” Ashley replied.

“That's good, as long as you have someone who can be by your side, that's all that matters.” She assured her, “If you hop onto the bed, we’ll do that scan we talked about.” Ashley climbed onto the bed, pulling up her top to reveal a perfectly round bump, Harry moved his chair to sit beside her as Kirstie squeezed the cold gel onto Ashley’s stomach. She slowly moved the scanner across her stomach, the baby appeared on the screen, the sound of it’s heartbeat echoing through the room. “That’s your baby, there's it’s hands and feet, I’ll give you two a minute alone while I go and print that scan for you.” 

Ashley turned from where her gaze was transfixed on the screen displaying her baby to where Harry was sat on the other side of her, his eyes glossed over, “You alright?” She whispered, wiping the gel from her stomach.

“That’s our beautiful baby, a beautiful little person who is going to be loved not just by its family, but by thousands of people across the world, in the same way they love Bear and Freddie.” Tears began rolling down his cheeks, “I let you down Ash, I need to be someone you can depend on, whether we’re bringing up our child in a relationship or not, I promise you, with every inch of my existence, that I will always be beside you.”

When they made it back to Ashley’s house, Harry insisted on helping her take her things inside, she put her key in the door and dumped all her stuff in the hallway, “Do you want a cup of tea?” Ashley asked in an attempt to offer a lifeline.

“I’ll make them, you go and sit yourself down and get comfy.” Harry smiled.

Harry walked down the corridor to the hallway, so Ashley proceeded into the living room, “Surprise!” All her favourite people were gathered in her living room, the One Direction boys and their respective partners, Harry’s band, Gemma, Lou, Lottie and Lux. Roman and Nick had also come along, as did both Anne and Linda who had made the trip down from Holmes Chapel. The living room was decorated with various decorations in pastel shades of yellow, green and lilac, pictures of both Ashley and Harry when they were babies scattered the room.

“Did you know about this?” She asked Harry as he returned from the kitchen. 

“I’m legally not obliged to say.” Harry chuckled.

“Mummy!” Daisy ran over from where she had been sitting on Gemma’s lap.

“Hello princess, how are you?” Ashley asked, crouching down to look her in the eye.

“I helped Auntie Gem and Lou get it ready, and I made you something, Harry has it.” Daisy took her by the hand, leading her into the kitchen where Harry was waiting. Harry handed Daisy a box which she gave to Ashley. Ashley opened the box, inside it were four homemade bracelets, Daisy had made a blue one for Harry, a purple one for Ashley, a pink one for herself, and yellow for the new baby. “It’s for our little family.” Daisy smiled as she sat in Harry’s arms, bringing Ashley to tears.

“You are the most precious little lady I could ever ask for Daisy Darling,” Ashley held her tight, as both Harry and Daisy wrapped their arms around her, none of them ever wanting to let go.

The party had died down and only Niall, Gemma, Sarah and Mitch were left, the group were sat together in Ashley’s living room, scrolling through old instagram posts, filling Sarah and Mitch in on the One Direction days. Ashley sat beside Niall, her head resting on his shoulder, and although Harry knew it was completely platonic, he wished it were his shoulder instead. Niall clicked onto Twitter briefly, intending to reply to a fan’s tweet about his latest golf project. “Hey what’s that?” Ashley tapped on a tweet from The Sun, ‘HARRY’S NEW BABY MAMA?’ flashed up on Niall’s screen. “No, no this can’t be happening.” Ashley rested her head in her hands. 

“Ash what is it?” Harry asked, taking the phone from Niall, “Hey love come here,” Niall stood up allowing Harry to comfort Ashley, “Gem can you take Dais up to bed, I don’t want this to worry her.”

“Of course, come on Dais, shall we go and find one of those pretty bath bombs and get you ready for bed?” Gemma asked, taking Daisy’s hand and leading her upstairs.

“I’ll call Jeff and ask if there’s anything he can do.” Sarah told Harry.

“What does it actually say?” Harry asked Niall.

“It just says a source close to the pair exclusively revealed the news of Ash Hanson’s pregnancy.” Niall replied.

“Who is it Harry? Who have I wrongly put my trust in? It could’ve been someone who was here today, someone we’ve had in the house?” Ashley panicked as her breathing quickened.

“Hey, Ash, look at me darling,” Harry whispered as he cupped her cheeks, “We’re going to sort this out, but I need you to slow your breathing, it’s not good for you or the baby, breathe with me angel.” Harry soothed, demonstrating to Ashley how to breathe calmly. “That’s better baby, much better.” He assured her, holding her head close to his chest and stroking her hair gently, knowing that it always made her feel calm. 

“Your PR person is working on a statement at the moment Harry, they’ll send it to Jeff and he’s going to have it circulated, he says not to worry.” Sarah explained.

“I’ll make sure you have extra security Ash, so they can’t get close to the house, we’re going to do it together.” Harry told her, not daring to let her slip from his embrace. He wanted to protect her more than anything in the world, but he didn’t have the power to stop people selling stories and spinning lies, so for now, his only power was to hold her and promise he’ll never let go.

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 33

AO3 link here

The first day of her bar exam, Drea knows that she is supposed to wake up and get right out of bed, considering the three alarms she has set. Instead she lies there for a few moments and thinks of the times she would come downstairs when she couldn’t sleep and find her parents sitting up together in the kitchen. How one of them would make tea for her, hot and strong and sweet, in those blue flowered mugs they’d had, before settling in to talk about the test the next day that was making her too nervous for sleep or some issue that she was having with a classmate or teacher. “Just do what you can,” her dad used to tell her. “Because what you can do is pretty amazing.”

She remembers nasty kids on the playground saying her parents couldn’t really love her, that she wasn’t their real kid, remembers thinking of those nights of quiet listening and steady voices and Dad’s hand certain on her shoulder, knowing like the blood running through her veins that it was real and screw anyone who said otherwise. There were plenty of other parts of her that were vulnerable to that sort of bullying, but in this she was secure: her parents, her family, would love her through anything.

Lou bangs on her door, shouting through the wood, interrupting the memory. “Get up, Carter, the alarm you set in my room just went off. Test’s today!” There’s the sound of her footsteps shuffling back to bed, and Drea sighs and smiles just a little and gets out of bed.

Her friend Greg told her to try not to run over case law and testing tips in her head, to leave her flashcards at home and bring a book or her portable cassette player instead. She has a book in her bag, but she doesn’t take it out even when she finds a seat on the T. Instead she gazes through the window, finding the Citgo sign tucked into the skyline across the river. She looks around at the other morning commuters, summer students and tourists beside businesspeople. There is one woman who seems not to let hanging onto a strap distract her from reading a half folded newspaper; she wears a loose, gorgeous royal blue pantsuit with a lace-collared blouse and pearls. It makes Drea look down at the outfit she’d laid out the night before - a belted gray skirt and an orange and white striped T-shirt - with disatisfaction.

Last Thanksgiving, she had been in the kitchen while they waited for Emma and Eric to finish eating with his family. She was in charge of some kind of cranberry relish recipe that Dad had clipped out, Mom had been mashing potatoes, and Rose (off the cooking roster permanently outside of necessity) had been sliding cloth napkins into the just-polished napkin rings. Drea and Rosie had started trading off stories across the table: worst law school professors, times they had been hit on by partners or associates or interns at the law firms that they had each worked at. When Rose was repeatedly asked to serve coffee in meetings, she apparently produced progressively worse pots until they stopped. Drea had started putting up a rotation list in the conference rooms and referring people to that, trying to make them realize the inequity themselves; it still hadn’t entirely worked.

And as frustrating and awful as the stories were, in a strange way she had found herself reveling in the conversation. In the understanding there, but also in talking with her sister.

From the time she was fourteen, Drea had known she wanted to be a lawyer. She’d been open about her plans with teachers and friends, her debate teammates and especially her family. And then, just as she was starting to study for the LSAT, Rose had announced that she had taken the exam months earlier and would soon be starting at Columbia Law.

Drea had spent so long feeling as if she were some sort of runner up Rose: smart, but from studying and working for it rather than Rosie’s natural sharpness, bold enough to get by but not quite as brave as her sister. And so she was glad that even though they lived barely hours away from each other, they only saw each other a couple of times a year. She couldn’t pretend any more often than that to be okay with Rose taking her goal, taking it first, probably doing better than she would. Rose had graduated with a motley collection of majors and minors and simply fallen into working for a domestic violence organization after her volunteering in college, and Knowing what she wanted and putting in the work to get there had been the only thing that made Drea feel that she was best at something. She had been so angry that this thing, her thing, her one thing, was being taken from her. But now, she listened to her sister speak, watched her hands trace around the air, and found not competition between them but comfort, companionship. As if maybe having a sister in the same business wouldn’t be so bad. As if maybe they could both find ways to make their mark beside each other.

Rose finished telling a story about being taken aside by the one female partner at a law firm where she was working over the summer. “Wear a skirt suit,” the woman had advised. “The others don’t like it when you try to put on their pants, you know.” Then she had waited for Rose to laugh and agree.

“I haven’t even let myself look at pantsuits,” Drea admitted. “I know everyone expects skirts. It’s supposed to be the professional thing, I guess,” and their mother had set down the potato masher and sighed. Though she wore a smile, it was sadder and more worn than anything they usually saw, the sort of thing only their father would be familiar with.

“I had hoped we would be beyond this sort of thing by now,” she told them. “I had hoped that the problems, the barriers, I had when I was beginning my career would be obsolete by the time my daughters were beginning theirs. But it seems as if so very many things are precisely the same.”

“I’m sure it’s better, Mom,” Drea offered. “At least a little, it’s better. There are sexual harassment laws now, laws against hiring descrimination, you can’t get fired for being pregnant...I know it seems like all of the problems still exist only underground and having laws on the books can’t fix everything, but things are better than they were, and you were a part of that.”

“And for the next part,” Rose said, trading a glance with her sister. “For the rest of it, we’ll be here, to make things even better for the ones who come after. Just like you taught us.”

She looks around the testing room as everyone is filing in to get settled. She sees familiar faces from her classes or around campus, from internships, panels and events. Carl is sitting at the next table over. Tom and Denise from the exam prep course walk in together. Her friend Celia is too far to speak to, but they smile at each other for courage.

And then it is time to begin.

She knows that she’s meant to be focusing only on the questions in front of her, and she does seem to be at least somewhat - her pencil marks the page nearly as soon as she finishes reading. But she also can’t help but think of the importance of this day, how everything, her whole life, has built and led here. She thinks of listening to her parents talking politics and policy around mouthfuls of morning toast, of study groups and late nights of debate practice, of disappointing grades that just made her grit her teeth and try harder the next time. She thinks of two diplomas with “Veritas” at the top and her name beneath.

Andrea Mastro Carter: one name from each set of parents, and one she gave herself. After the adoptions went through, they had all shared the same last name, but Mom and Dad always told them that they could pick middle names if they wanted - she and Nate hadn’t been given them at birth. So when she was twelve they had gone to court and she had added back her original family name, just to keep it alive somehow. Nate, when he had gone a few years later, had taken the initial M rather than a full name. She knows he did it not from some sort of loyalty to the past he doesn’t really remember but because it would mean something to her, and that touches her more than words.

(When she was little, Emma would say that she was just going to have her middle name be Rose too. Later, she would try to choose between dozens of possibilities, making lists that seemed simply copied from Famous Women of History and Literature. Finally, though, she chose Jane. “I think,” she had said, “that there were probably a lot of women named Jane who lived good, quiet lives - they were so quiet that we don’t remember them. I’ll name myself for them.”)

She thinks of the summer they moved from New Jersey, driving to the Maryland house with all of the car windows rolled down for a breeze. With boxes still in their rooms, Dad woke them up one morning and shuffled them all into the car so they could be in Washington by 8. It wasn’t early enough: the city was already packed with people, and even at seven years old, she felt the tension all around. She doesn’t know that she has ever held her mother’s hand as tightly.

And then they were marching with the crowd, walking surrounded by more people than she had ever seen, toward buildings that she had only seen in pictures. The signs people were carrying said things about jobs and freedom and equality and something called civil rights. Some of it she understood, and Mom and Dad had answered questions when they could, but she knows that she didn’t understand the significance, not then.

It was hot: seventy-five by 10 A.M. and hotter throughout the day. The dress that she had picked out, still excited about getting to wear such things without being questioned, was pretty but heavy, sweaty against her skin. They were gathered for a long time, listening to all different speeches and songs. It was harder and harder to concentrate as the day went on; Drea started playing hand-clapping games with Rose, tic-tac-toe on a piece of scrap paper with Emma.

And then a new man had come up to the podium, and Dad had put Nate onto his shoulders so he could see. Drea had never heard someone talk the way this man did. Even then, when she didn’t quite understand, she leaned forward to listen to him talking about his dream, heard the people shout encouragement and agreement back at him and nearly did it herself. Next to her, Rose had turned to their mother and said, “You’re important too, Mom. You should go up and speak to everyone.” But Mom had shaken her head and said, “No, today isn’t the time for me. This is the time for Dr. King and those who are leading with him.”

She remembers, too, a time she went to lunch with Aunt Layla and Libby one summer when she was in New York. Libby was urging them along, worried they would miss the reservation Aunt Layla had called for at a new restaurant; the others were racing to keep up with her, laughing a bit as they did. (Though Drea was secretly glad someone was trying to get them there in time; Layla was smart and very good at her job, but she had “just five minutes”ed them when they had come to find her in her office, and then did it again when they found her in the lab until they were cutting it quite close.)

“Barnes, party of three,” Aunt Layla said, still a bit breathless from running and laughter, when they arrived just in time.

The host looked up at her, scanning not her lovely cream linen skirt or her bright smile but instead her shade-darker skin, her striking eyes. He said, without pause, “I apologize, someone must have misinformed you. We are quite full up this afternoon.”

“Excuse me?” Aunt Layla didn’t raise her voice, but Drea could see the way her hand spasmed into a fist against her thigh. “I called this morning. I was told our booking was confirmed.”

“As I said.” A tiny shrug; the polite smile hadn’t shifted, but now Drea could see it was more like indifference. “I apologize, Mrs. Barnes.”

Aunt Layla grabbed Libby’s hand. Drea thought about how her parents could find hers without looking just as easily. “That’s Doctor Barnes,” she had said, and walked out with her head high. Drea had admired her so much, even as she felt overcome with the small, protected cruelty of it, the expectation that there was nothing that would be done in retaliation.

(Later, Aunt Layla would tell her that she had barely remembered saying anything. “I just wanted to get you girls out of there. I just wanted to get out of there.” She patted Drea's arm. “It's everywhere and has been for my whole life, and my parents’ too, and it still feels like it comes out of nowhere, Drea love.”)

When they break for lunch, someone at the table with her asks what area of law they’re each looking to go into. Drea doesn’t hesitate. She has spent years thinking about the ways the law protects her and the ways it doesn’t, how her voice could be valuable in standing up for others, how the law can’t change people’s minds but sometimes it is what they have. “Public defender first, probably, but eventually civil rights,” she says when it’s her turn, and when a couple of those sitting with her snort she just smiles.

When they are dismissed for the day, her eyes are gritty, the muscles of her hand exhausted. All her muscles are exhausted, in fact - her back and shoulders, her restless legs - and she’ll have to be back again tomorrow. She’s torn between wanting an hour-long bath and just crawling into bed. But when she reaches the corner she finds herself not walking down the stairs to catch the T, but instead entering the phone booth and dialing a number that she hadn’t realized she knew by heart.

“Rose Carter.” Her sister answers firmly on the first ring. (Rosie had decided not to take a middle name, but instead to remove the one she was given at birth. She said she already had all the name she needed.)

“Hi. It’s me.”

“Hey. Hang on.” There’s a clunking in the background, then Rose faintly telling someone that she’s talking to her sister and she’ll have the documents within the hour.

“Sorry,” Rose says, clear again. “Wasn’t today the first day of the bar? How are you feeling about it?” (They had talked briefly about the exam at Emma’s wedding last month before Drea cut it off, feeling overwhelmed. Rose had understood right away.)

Instead of answering, Drea asks, “Where do you get your pantsuits?”

“Is this a joke? About the kids businesswear section or something?”

“No, I was just—I’ve been thinking a lot today, and I was wondering if I could come to New York. Maybe we could go shopping for something new for work.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty confident about how it went,” says Rose, just a bit of teasing sing-song in her voice.

“We’ll see. This was only day one,” Drea replies, starting to grin a little herself. “But either way, I thought I could maybe come see you.”

“Of course you can,” says Rose, the words softer but even more definitive for it. Drea picks at a sticker on the side of the payphone and swallows against the lump in her throat. “Of course you can, always, whenever you want. I might have to work - no rest for the new hires - but you should come, get a feel for another office. And afterward, we’ll go pick out some kickass clothes for you. I have the feeling you’re going to need them.”

The first day of her new job, Drea dresses in a burgundy pantsuit and a silver and white striped blouse.

“You look great!” Grace tells her as Drea comes into the kitchen. Louise’s girlfriend is leaning against the counter in a big sweatshirt and a pair of socks, spooning up the last of her cereal.

“Thanks,” says Drea. “My sister helped pick it.”

“Well, good luck,” Lou tells her as she joins them, wrapping an arm around Grace’s shoulders. “Knock ‘em dead, Carter.”

“Not a great idea when they’re your new bosses, I’m pretty sure.”

“Go!” The other two laugh, and start to shoo her out the door.

She takes her bag from the hook, double checks that the note her parents sent wishing her luck (Mom’s handwriting on one side, Dad’s and a little illustration of Lady Justice on the other) is tucked into her pocket. Deep breath, in and out.

“Okay,” she says aloud. “I’m ready.”

More chapters here

[fanfic-inator795]

RotTMNT Oneshot: Enough

I know I’ve said before no more fanfics buuuut my confidence in my original writing took a bit of a dive today, and I’ve had this scene in my head for forever so, here we go. Just to prove that I can still write something decent. Please like/reblog/comment if you can.

As the bright full moon rose towards its peak, a lone hunter made his way back to his underground sanctuary.

...Well, maybe ‘hunting’ was a bit generous. Really it was more like ‘dumpster diving grocery shopping’ with the occasional swipe from an unguarded truck. 

Even so, Splinter was satisfied with his haul. Lots of canned food, their dented containers thankfully unopened, as well a couple frozen pizzas and boxes of crackers that he managed to grab from a delivery van stopping at a nearby bodega. Yes, they would eat very well, at least until the next ‘shopping’ trip. They still had plenty of ramen cups and slightly stale bread from the last trip, but Splinter always took a special sort of pride in bringing his sons something truly yummy to eat.

And speaking of his sons... Tucking his spoils under an arm, picking whatever wouldn’t fit up with his long tail, he moved the makeshift door to the side with his other arm and walked into his humble home. “Oh boyyyyyys!” Splinter called out, just as he always did. He would make his return known, and his sons would rush him for hugs, usually sneaking a peek inside whatever bags and boxes their father brought home. 

This time however, there was no stampede of little turtle feet. Not even a reply to his call.

Splinter frowned. “Boys!” he said, a bit louder now. He had begun to worry when he heard his oldest finally reply. 

“Hey Pop! We’re in the living ro-” The snapper was quickly cut off by hollers and cheers from his brothers. 

“Huh...” Were they playing some game? Or maybe they found an interesting comic book floating through the murky tunnels. Curious, Splinter worked quickly to put their groceries away before making his way to the center of their home. “What are you four doing?” he asked as he poked his head through the doorway-

“HOT SOUUUUUUUP!”

Splinter froze.

...No. Not Splinter. Not in that moment, at least. Lou Jitsu froze. The small silhouettes of his boys were blurred, the warm light from the old machine and its all encompassing projection shining brightly on the stone wall. Lou could only stare as he watched his reflection - younger, taller and certainly more foolish - kick a couple extras off-screen, his grin as cocky as ever.

“Leo an’ me found it!” he heard Mikey explain, his usual bright grin (along with the occasional crayon or paint streak) present on his face despite his rat dad’s shocked silence, “An’ Donnie figured out how to make it work and how to put the movie wheel in and everything! And this one is about this guy named Lou Jitsu! Isn’t it cool?!”

“Actually it was Leo’s idea to mess with it, sooooo-” Donnie added, feigning innocence in case their father was angry with him for snooping through the boxes he kept in his corner of their home - the boxes he had grabbed from a storage unit several months ago, though hadn’t shared with the boys what was in them. 

This action also earned him an indignant squawk from his twin. “Nuh uh, you’re the one who wanted to see if you could make it work!” the slider argued. As the two began to argue and Raph stepped in to make sure the fight didn’t escalate, Lou just continued to stare at the screen.  

It was like looking through one of those time portal things from a Jupiter Jim movie he remembered watching long ago. Remembering... He remembered the hum of the cameras, the heat of the set lights, the undying praise of the film crew and nearby fans alike. He remembered how good and right it felt to be in his own body, his epic martial arts moves as familiar as breathing.

Lou clenched his fists tightly, a dull ache now in his furry chest. His head nearly felt numb, old memories continuing to swirl beside with bittersweet emotions like stirring cheap margarita mix with cough syrup. And yet, his eyes refused to look away from the screen. He wasn’t sure when his feet started moving on their own, his body close enough to cast a shadow over the film. Close enough to touch history. 

His double continued to fight and make cheesy one liners without a care in the world, his sunglasses catching the light perfectly. He seemed invincible, back then... Funny how life likes to prove you wrong in the most devastating ways. 

What had he been thinking back then? What had he been thinking when he had shot his last film, not knowing then that it WOULD be his last film? Lou wasn’t sure, though he could bet it was something about finishing the current scene as soon as possible so he could make it to some party or street race or a date with whatever beautiful starlet or hollywood hunk that was willing. 

Those times had been fun, really REALLY fun... But Lou still couldn’t help but resent his younger self for not appreciating those moments of movie magic more. If only he knew back then that he was actually going to end up missing those long days and seemingly endless retakes along with the premieres and the fame and the cheers.

But that life was gone, wasn’t it? Existing only in pictures and memories and old rolls of film...

“...Papa?”

A small voice finally pulled Lou out of his thoughts, his eyes blinking for the first time in what seemed like ages as he managed to look away from the movie, though the projected frames still danced across the side of his head, only stopping when it hit his shadow. 

Small eyes filled with innocent concern and half-framed with red met his gaze. “What’s wrong?” Leo asked, tilting his head a bit, “This is a good movie! A really good one! So, how come you look so sad?”

Lou felt himself take a small step back, another sort of ache hitting his chest. The eyes of not just his second youngest but all of his children continued to stay directly on him, curious and a bit confused. 

How come you look so sad?

Letting a moment pass, Lou swallowed... and then smiled as hard as he could. 

“Aha, Papa just- really REALLY likes this movie! It- It is one of my favorites, actually!” The rat then feigned a scowl. “And you would watch your father’s favorite movie without him? Shame on you all!”

“Aww, it’s okay, Pop! We can just start it over,” Raph told him, “and then we can all watch it together!” The snapper paused. “...We can start it over, right Donnie?”

“Uh huh, it’s easy!” Donnie nodded, allowing a bit of pride slip into his voice as he began moving towards the aging device.

His brothers grinned, nowhere near annoyed at having to sit through scenes again. “I wanna watch it again anyway,” Leo told them, “There’s this one part where the Lou Jitsu guy throws these two mean guys right into their bowls of soup!”

Despite himself, Lou let out a small chuckle. “Wow, sounds exciting. Well then, let’s get this show... rolling, hm?” he said as he gestured to the projector. Leo giggled while his other three sons groaned. 

Once the film was rewound and the credits began flashing across the stone wall, his boys didn’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him in his plush chair. Raph on his lap, Leo and Donnie by his sides, and Mikey sitting comfortably on top of his furry head, the only one of his children still small enough to do so.

“This is gonna be great!” Mikey grinned, nuzzling his father’s hair before cheering, “Hot souuuuuup!” 

“HOT SOUUUUUUP!” his brothers echoed. Lou - no, Splinter chuckled again, his yellow eyes now burning slightly, but his smile never faltering.

His movie star days were long behind him, there was no denying that.  No studio would hire a short, fat rat to star in a kung fu movie, and even if they did, Splinter wouldn’t risk it. After all, he had far more to lose these days, things more important than his reputation or a few handfuls of cash. Much, much more important...

The past would forever be the past, but he could still share it with his sons, even if he swore to himself to never let them know the full truth. And, as he listened to his children’s cheers and awe inspired comments as the opening fight scene played on, their small bodies snuggling closer to him as all five of them settled in, Splinter decided that that really was enough for him. 

“...I wanna be a cool an’ strong hero like Lou Jitsu,” he heard Raphael say as said hero leapt off his motorcycle and punched two on-coming enemies right in the jaw.

Splinter hummed. “Maybe... When you’re all grown up, of course.”

“Awwww.”

THE END

[corgisocks]

85 questions

tagged by @ribenaflip 💞💕💖💗

rules: answer these 85 questions and tag 20 people

EDIT: as of 2019, this tag is like 20% irrelevant to what i’m like now....did it in 2017 so

— what was your last…

1. drink: water

2. phone call: it was me calling jojo’s phone so they could find it

3. text message: “I am having a major crisis”

4. song you listened to: coffee & tv by blur

5. you cried: that’s tmi but also saying it’s tmi is tmi and all of this is tmi so what am i DOING

— have you ever…

6. dated someone twice: nooo

7. kissed someone and regretted it: yes i kissed a piece of toast and it got crumbs all over my face

8. been cheated on: if i have been that’d be concerning seeing as i’ve never not been single

9. lost someone special: not recently.

10. been depressed: 24 hours 7 days a week m8

11. gotten drunk and thrown up: what is an alcohol? (no)

— fave colours

12. vermilion 13. cerulean 14. very very dark grey

— in the last year have you…

15. made new friends: YEET (shoutout to the gc)

16. fallen out of love: i WISH (lmao it’s been 2 years please end me)

17. laughed until you cried: yea obvs

18. found out someone was talking about you: many times. many many many times.

19. met someone who has positively changed you: YES. my bestest buddy has and not in a bad way. i’m definitely a better and happier person because i met him

20. found out who your friends are: i never think about friendships in that kind of way. and if i did i probs wouldn’t care to be like ‘they were a shitty friend’ instead it’d just be like they were someone in my life and it sucks that they’re not/don’t want to be in a good way anymore but shit happens. and i don’t take it personally

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list: what is a face book because if it’s like a book of faces i kissed myself in the picture of my group of friends that is in my yearbook

— general

22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know irl: again…what is a face book

23. do you have any pets: YEET

24. do you want to change your name: i mean idk i think i’d be cool with just usin a nickname for now i’ll figure the legal stuff out later

25. what did you do for your last birthday: went to my friend’s birthday party. spent almost all of it looking for one of the people who was invited with two of my bros. then i saw wonder woman, went to a reallyreally good korean bakery, and then went to the empire state building. and last but not least, the next day, my friends came over and we played clue and mariokart. all in all it was a 10/10 birthday tbh! (it was an anomaly though ngl my birthday this year is going to be infinitely more depressing)

26. what time did you wake up today: 5:30 am cos my school starts too fuckin early ;(

27. what were you doing at midnight last night: taking a shower

28. what is something you can’t wait for: plake’s upcoming single (it’s my fav and i’ve been wanting it in my library for m o n t h s so i’m 110% ready for it

30. what are you listening to right now: the sound of people talking

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom: i was at an improv comedy show and of all people i was picked to volunteer and when i was on stage my shoe fell off and one of the comedians who was called tom was like 'your foot has been borne to the audience’

32. something that’s getting on your nerves: my own exhaustion!

33. most visited website: my school’s online gradebook 😬

34. hair colour: really dark brown (some people think it’s black but NO)

35. long or short hair: short...it will never be long again i assure you

36. do you have a crush on someone: yes ;(((

37a. what do you like about yourself: i may be an awful person atm but at least i can understand why i am the way i am and know how to improve

37b. what’s something you don’t like about yourself: too many things. rn though i don’t like how i come off as like a 'show-off’ when i’m trying to help people cos me trying to get them to like actually understand what they’re learning always sets em off even though it’d be worse to just do things my own confusing way and leave em in the dust. i also hate how i get frustrated with them (and myself tbh) when that happens

38. want any piercings: hecc no

39. blood type: i legit have no clue

40. nicknames: lou, coco

41. relationship status: what is a relation ship

42. sign: gemini

43. pronouns: he/they i GUESS

44. fave tv show: peppa pig tbh

45. tattoos: hecc no!

46. right or left handed: BOTH

47: ever had surgery: nope 😬

48. piercings: once again HECC NO

49. sport: used to do tennis and track. now i kind of just do a lil bit of everything for fun and i love biking and running

50. vacation: yes please. i need a vacation from LIFE

51. trainers: i’ve had the same old black nikes for three years and the same flip flops for five ;( (and i also have some black converse high-tops that i never wear unless i need to look 'nice’ whoops)

— more general

52. eating: i prefer raw foods to pretty much everything so poke bowls are my jam. i’m also a vegetarian who doesn’t eat fruit because what is self-care??

53. drinking: water. it’s important to stay hydrated

54. i’m about to watch: my surroundings that aren’t my phone

55. waiting for: this tag to be over. yikes

56. want: to pass english for ONE GODDAMN MARKING PERIOD before i graduate cos i haven’t since mp1 of ninth grade during which i got a 99 (now i have a 15 look how far i’ve come!!)

57. get married: i mean…

58. career: ah yes i’ll probably have one of those

— which is better

59. hugs or kisses: y'all mean in relationships? no pref. generally speaking though i almost always hate both

60. lips or eyes: no pref

61. shorter or taller: no pref…

62. older or younger: i don’t think about any of this shit i am so confused!!

63. nice arms or stomach: what constitutes an arm or stomach being nice?

64. hookup or relationships: labels ew neither is good

65. troublemaker or hesitant: somehow i’m both. like i’m loud as fuck and kind of obnoxious and audacious but i also have 9.9/10 self-control. so like i would be cool with either type of person

— have you ever

66. kissed a stranger: i hope not

67. drank hard liquor: hecc no

68. turned someone down: i thought i was gonna have to but that never happened WHEW

69. sex on first date: what is this “sex” you speak of? what is a “date”?

70: broken someone’s heart: i hope not! except hearts are kinda squishy so like i probably haven’t

71. had your heart broken: no although my heart rate’s so high i fear it will explode one of these days

72. been arrested: so far, no

73. cried when someone died: :((( chris cornell. i was lookin up soundgarden on google to find tour dates near where my uncle lives and then i saw it and i was like 'no. nononono. nonononononononono.’ then i let one tear escape from the ducts in my eyes before going into denial river. (aren’t i so fuckin clever 😤😤😤)

i also cried during a tribute to chester bennington at a muse concert if that counts

74. fallen for a friend: once again ew labels but y'all should know by now that i HAVE and i’m STILL falling ;(

— do you believe in

75. yourself: i have no concept of anything in existence and this tag has made me realise that. whoops

76. miracles: i could ramble about this one but i don’t have the time

77. love at first sight: dunno, but i will say that when i met my best friend i knew i was going to love him from how he acted and what his sense of humour is like. he’s so unique really like you can TELL he’s his own person and he owns it without trying to

78. santa claus: yes but only cos i’m tryin to stay off the naughty list

79. angels: what is an angels

— misc

80. eye colour: this is a subject that has been widely debated so for now i’ll just say they’re either grey or green or both

81. best friend’s name: zeke

82. favourite movie: i have no concept of having a favorite movie unless it’s based on who it’s by so i’ll say my favorite pixar movie is wall-e for the sake of having something down for this question. otherwise it’s probs either memento or the imitation game.

83. favourite actor: myself 🤔

84. favourite cartoon: oh shit that’s too hard. my favs as a young child were tom and jerry and the first season of the pokémon anime and i guess my fav one that’s more 'mature’ is bojack horseman (although i’ve only seen half the first season lol)

85. favourite teacher’s name: my favorite is either nicole, hyungmin, rebecca, eileen, hayley, matt, kevin, or robert, but like…i hate picking cos that’s just unfair. so idrk

can’t tag rn but do this if you want to i guess

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Champagne Mixed with a Bit of Adrenaline [h.s.]

A/N: this was a request from an anon and I finally got it done! It’s meant to go with this amazing piece of art. :-)  this piece is dedicated to the amazing @tiostyles because Brianne kept it from getting lost in the void LMAO. her support inspired me to finish it so thanks Brianne ilyvm :-) sorry for any mistakes or typos! Drop by my inbox with opinions bc I’m kinda?? Iffy on it?? Anywho, enjoy!

Harry likes to think he has stamina. He’s proven it countless of times before and he’s sure he will continue to prove it until the end of his days.

A great example would be that one time on the tour bus when he had popped a stiffy around 9 PM and couldn’t do anything about it, since no one was planning on going to bed yet, so he couldn’t sneak away to handle it. He’d had to wait until well after 1 AM, when the snoring elephants known as his band mates were conked out cold, to sneak into the bathroom with his Astroglide and rub out a quick one to a picture of Y/N wearing nothing but a pink, sheer silk button-up with the word “Styles” embroidered on the chest pocket.

Or the time when he and Y/N had attended a family get-together that his mother had thrown at his old house in the new pool she’d had built. Y/N had gotten the brilliant idea to grope him during a game of water volleyball and he’d had to play actively, all whilst doing his best to make sure no one saw the raging boner tenting his Gucci lion-printed swim trunks. After the underwater fun was over and the barbecue was done, his mom had condemned him to stay and help clean up. Washing dishes with his dick leaking wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time.

After that long night, Harry had given his mom a quick kiss goodbye and ignored her comments about how it was odd for his jacket to be tied backwards around his waist. He’d dragged a grinning Y/N to his car, setting route to their apartment but somehow ending up in an abandoned mall square, fucking in the backseat of his Rover.

And don’t even get him started on the time he lost three rounds of Go Fish to Y/N and, as retribution, had to wear a vibrating cock ring to Lux’s birthday party. Trying to explain to a four year old why his lap was vibrating, all while maintaining a cool composure, should’ve been made into an Olympic sport because the sheer amount of concentration and determination needed was truly out of this fucking world. Not only that, but fucking in a bathroom the size of a coat closet wasn’t necessarily prime, either. Lou had been having her upstairs bathroom remodeled and the one in the living room was too obvious, so they’d had to sneak down to the one in the basement. It was tiny, cramped, and smelled way too much like lemon-scented Lysol. His left leg had fallen asleep, but as if that wasn’t bad enough, Y/N had decided to up and leave halfway through and left him horribly blue-balled. Giving a toast to his goddaughter’s coming-of-age wasn’t really fluent when casually trying to cover up the bulge in his jeans with a Hello Kitty placemat.

However, all throughout these situations, Harry had managed to keep an unfazed, calm façade and had not given in to the woes of the intense exertion that was required of him. So, yes, he most definitely likes to say he has stamina. He’s entitled to say it. With all of the shit he’s been through, it’s the least he deserves.

But tonight, his hardcore ability to sustain such troubles has decided to fail him. And, hell, did it fail him.

Harry’s not quite sure what happened, but he knows that it’s likely do to all of the post-performance adrenaline that has been bubbling and toiling through his veins since he set foot off stage after his surprise LA performance at the Troubadour. It had been quite the show, considering he’d had Stevie bloody Nicks accompanying and dueting with him. Every nerve-ending on his body was set to full throttle, every hair standing to the very tip with excitement-induced electricity, and as he stepped outside the building, the cool night air burned his simmering skin like acid (which he’s pretty sure cool air isn’t supposed to do).

He was sweating buckets from the stage lights and the close proximity of the venue, but he loves the intimacy of it all. He felt more connected to his fans this way, so he thinks it to be worth it. His body, however, begs to differ.

Right after they’d disappeared backstage, Stevie had immediately demanded that they all go out for drinks to celebrate Harry’s blooming career, and how could he say no to her? Two Fiji waters and a limo ride later, they ended up in a classy joint that Harry didn’t care enough to try and interpret the name of because it was in a language he didn’t know (French, maybe? Or Italian?), and he was oh-so very wired. The champagne was bubbly and silky smooth against his sensitive taste buds, the dim miniature chandelier above their booth casting just enough shadows to hide the itchy flush that is crawling up his neck.

His sheer black shirt is sticking to a thin sheen of sweat that has materialized down his back and he’s fairly certain that his golden-glitter pants weren’t this tight when he got them tailored. His feet feel as if they are floating in pools of sweat, the leather Gucci shoes not doing his heated body any favors. And that’s when he feels it.

Harry shifts slightly in his seat as Mitch slides in next to him, nudging his elbow off the table in a best-mate-rivalry type of way. His body instinctually bends forward slightly as all of his upper weight loses the support of the red oak surface, torso reeling to the side as he giggles and elbows him back, and that’s when it hits him like a bus. He feels his dick twitch against his damp thigh, his jerky movements combined with the frenzied nerves from the performance setting every comatose hormone in his blood on fire.

A small yip of surprise escapes past his lips, eyes wide as his thighs give a hard clench and his fingers tighten around his champagne flute. Stevie had been speaking about a concert she had done a while back in Georgia when Harry decides to have this teeny spectacle, his not-so-manly squeak slicing through the calm, cool atmosphere of the bar. Everyone looks over to him, eyebrows raised here and there in concern.

Harry swallows down his unsteadiness, forcing a tiny, soft smile across his stinging cheeks. He lifts his hand a bit higher in front of himself to draw attention to his drinking glass, swirling the golden liquid around for emphasis. “It’s the champagne. Sipped too fast.”

His voice comes out strained, but he manages to cover it up with a faux hiccup to give his whole act a touch of authenticity. Everyone seems to buy it as they return their attention to the other singer at the table, intrigued by her story. He hears Jeff mumble, “lightweight” under his breath, a couple of the guys snickering along with him as Harry pins the man with a death glare.

“You sure you’re alright?” Mitch’s soft voice hitches Harry’s ears, dragging his attention away from his producer. “You’re sweating and the lights are barely even on.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just taking me a little longer to wind down. Since I sung with a legend and all, y'know?”

But he’s not fine. Not fine at all. If anything, he’s doing the opposite of winding down. He’s winding up– a glance at his lap easily confirms that. He hears blood starting to pound in his head, toes starting to go numb as he feels his balls tightening in his briefs. An annoying piece of hair keeps falling into his eyes and he contemplates ripping it off, but wagers against it since that might be considered too much of a scene. The back of his thighs are chafing in the thick material of his sequined bottoms and he’s positive he has some killer pit stains going, but he can’t will his body to stop. So he does the next best thing: He snatches the champagne bottle and pours himself another glass.

Harry’s not sure how much time passes by. It’s a blur of fizzy liquid, bright laughter, low lights and a swelling dull ache in his groin. He’s not necessarily drunk but he is buzzed, the alcohol having smoothed out the rough edges of his craving. His upper lip itches every now and then as sweat accumulates on the faint hairs he’s grown out and he has to constantly wipe at his face as nonchalantly as possible to avoid detection. The lack of personal space around the table only grates at his nerves even more because he can feel the heat of all the bodies absorbing into his clothes, turning him into the most sparkly-pantsed rotisserie chicken to ever exist. And the most irritated, at that.

But Harry will be damned if he passes up this iconic opportunity to have drinks with an icon herself. He’d been dreaming about such a moment since he could walk and he refuses to let a boner destroy one of the best to-be memories of his life. At this crucial state, he calls upon all of the times he had managed to power through similar situations and uses them to pump himself (pun intended) up, getting it through his tipsy skull that he can do it. He covered a hard-on with a Hello Kitty decoration, for fuck’s sake. Anything is truly possible!

Unfortunately, after a few more minutes lull by, Harry apparently will be damned.

He thinks he’s finally got it under reign when he sneaks a peek under the elegant maroon serviette in his lap, watching his pride crumble beneath his slightly-clouded eyes. His dick had leaked through his briefs and into his flared pants, the patch of cloth over his crotch noticeably darker than the rest of the material. His eyes squeeze shut as his nails dig into the palm of his hand through the napkin, biting down on his tongue as he feels his cock decides to give up on the slow burn and rather starts to throb sharply under the table.

Fuck his hormones for deciding to make him be a horny fourteen-year-old today, fuck his post-performance adrenaline for choosing to whip him up into a mess rather than dissolving away quietly like usual, fuck the champagne for making his eyelids droopy and his tongue heavy (although he will credit it for helping take the edge off), and most of all, just fuck himself for believing he could progress through this little get-together without bursting at the bleeding seams.

And apparently the universe agrees with him because as Harry sits there, seeing angry flashes of blue and yellow behind his screwed eyelids and wallowing in his self-hatred, Stevie calls his name from across the table.

“Harry?”

His head snaps up, eyes flying open in alarm as he attempts to calibrate himself back into the setting. A tight, croaky “hm?” thrums in his throat as he focuses on the blonde women across from him, her expression one of curiosity.

“Are you alright? You’re really pale, honey. And you seem kinda off a bit.” Stevie leans forward, setting down her almost-empty champagne flute and eyeing him thoughtfully.

Everyone’s attention turns to him, all of the separate conversations that had been going dying down to soft murmurs and silence. Harry’s not one for stage fright (his career had beaten that out of him ages ago), but he’s pretty sure this is how it feels. It feels like every person around him is seeing straight into his soul and he’s never wanted to disappear into thin air more than at this moment.

“I’m fine!” He swallows thickly, nodding weakly and he’s honestly trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

“S'just the rush of having you here is still…” he motions around the air with his arms to suggest an aura of excitement, “it’s still circulating– hasn’t piped down. It’s a dream come true and the starstruck feeling hasn’t stopped lingering. Plus, all the jumping around I did is really coming back to bite me in the ass. Never wear heels, guys. Huge mistake.”

The entire table bursts into a chorus of light laughter, Harry smiling sheepishly as he pushes the hair back from his face, ignoring how damp his scalp is. He chuckles quietly as his friends begin to take digs at his wardrobe and nearly faints when Stevie comes to his rescue, threatening to break one of the drinking glasses over Jeffery’s head for attacking Harry’s “unique and renowned” sense of style.

After a bit more banter, Stevie excuses herself to go use the loo. He sees her walking around to his side of the rounded booth, leaning down to talk beside him.

“I can tell you’re really out of it at the moment. Y'look really tired. Why don’t you go ahead and go rest up and me and you can do lunch tomorrow? You’ve been kinda detached the whole time and I’d really like to get to know you a bit more. Maybe even talk a collaboration. Who knows?” She pinches his broad shoulders playfully in a way that reminds him of his mom, patting him on the back. “I’ll text Roger to set up a reservation at Cafe Habana. Heard you fancy it?”

Harry nods so fast he feels whiplash lick at the back of his brain. “Yeah! It’d be an honor.”

“Alright. See you then.”

He watches as she walks away, rounding a corner to the restrooms and he immediately turns to Mitch, who’s in the middle of actively listening to Jeff and Sarah’s conversation about a Discovery Channel documentary over mermaids.

A tap to the shoulder gets Harry his designated attention and he speaks quick and breathless. “I’m going back to my hotel. Tell everyone I was feeling really tired, will you?”

Harry manages to wriggle his way out of the booth without embarrassing himself, leaving the trusty serviette behind as he sprints for the glass doors of the bar, socks damp in his loafers and that stupid piece of hair flopping against his forehead. The cold late night air runs the simmering stiffness from his skin (but leaving it as is somewhere else), swirling into his lungs and refreshing his mind. He has a driver on the phone in a split second and is getting into a limo the next minute, headed for his hotel with the window down and the wind sifting its fingers through his curls, helping air out all of his pent up frustration.

Before he knows it, Harry’s fumbling with the key card to his king suit, cursing under his breath as it gets jammed and squinting angrily at the tiny red light that flashes on the silver mechanism. As soon as the door pushes open, he surges through, kicking it closed and tearing down the column of buttons on his expensive silk shirt. His mind immediately begins to weave out a fantasy, the fingers that are popping open his shirt molding from his own into Y/N’s. And just like that, she’s there with him. She’s there, sponging her gentle, warm lips against the racing pulse on his neck, licking down his collarbones and biting at the the tight muscles of his broad shoulders as she roughly rips the sticky shirt down his arms.

Harry’s breathing is ragged as his fingers fly to his belt buckle, fumbling with the clasp and seeing nothing but her taunting, lust-filled eyes as she’d sharply yank the leather strap from around his slender hips, undoing his zipper as he toes off his squeaky shoes. His pants are discarded in a pile by the couch and he’s rummaging through his Nike carry-on for his trusty bottle of Astroglide, positive that he’d tucked it into the inside pocket of the bag. He comes up fruitful, whooping silently in victory as he paces to the humongous bed across the elegant room, feeling her imaginary presence looming behind him as he crawls onto the fluffy comforter.

He momentarily wagers whether he should call up Y/N for some help because having her voice is better than having to envision it. He weighs against it, knowing that since it’s 1 AM here in LA, it’s around 9 AM over in London and she’s more than likely not even up yet considering she loves sleep almost as much as she loves him.

Harry sits with his back against the tall headboard, shimmying out of his dark red CK briefs and spreading his legs wide open, sighing in relief as he feels his balls settle beneath him onto the mattress. He hadn’t realized the true extremity of how wound up he had been until now.

He thumbs the cap of the lube open, wiping off the crusty dry bits against the duvet and squirting some onto his palm, shivering at how cool it is. After some shifting around and stacking a couple of pillows into a plush mountain, he gives his cock a few leisurely tugs, worrying his lip between his two front teeth and hissing out all of the accumulated stress from the entire night.

It doesn’t take long for him to get a set rhythm, his rings scraping softly against his prick as the lube squishes in between the cracks where the metal and the skin of his fingers meet.

Harry’s head leans back again the cold mahogany surface of the bed frame, his hand working up and down his engorged length as he gulps down the screams that are threatening to overcome him, mewling her name out into the dimness of the room. His translucent skin is bumpy with green and blue veins, the head of his cock a dangerous shade of reddish purple as a tiny river of precome leaks out steadily. It runs down and over his fingers as he pumps himself, mixing with the lube to form a cloudy mess. His toes are curling against the sheets and his back muscles are contracting against the headboard as his body bends all out of shape in order to produce an orgasm.

His huge hand squeezes himself snugly, breathy whimpers and quick, low moans streaming from his mouth without control because he just doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t care because Harry can see her– sees her as she is pressed up against his side with one of her legs holding his own wide open, her small hand stroking him messily as she sucks love bites onto his chest and tweaks his puffy nipples, breath gooey and warm and so fucking hot as she mumbles praises against into neck. “God, you’re so fucking big, Har. All thick and warm inside me and nice and heavy in my mouth, yeah? Wanna make you come. Can you do that for me?”

Long, drawn-out “ohs” and “ughs” fill the stale air around him, wet slapping sounds bouncing back from the paisley-printed walls of the large room as Harry nods his head, not caring whether she’s here or not to see it. His face contorts into expressions of sheer bliss, eyebrows raising and scrunching in pleasure as his jaw hangs loose, head rutting back against the surface of the frame as cracked whines drip endlessly from his swollen, rosy lips. He thumbs over his sensitive cockhead, massaging circles into the skin and jerking against the mattress as he feels a boiling warmth pooling in his tummy, getting ready to explode at any given second.

Harry’s chest is flushed a dull red as he urges himself not to come, wanting to make this last as long as possible. Sweat stings every pore across his skin and he pretends it’s Y/N’s nails scratching memories across his torso. She’s everywhere; plastered across the ceiling and the walls of the room, all over his twitching body, her smell burning his nose and her pretty lips and doey eyes deeply rooted into his brain. It’s her own hands that are cupping and working him towards release as she licks sloppily at his tip, sucking gently every now and then while keeping direct eye contact with him. She spits on him just how he likes it, twisting her fist around his circumstance to give the handjob an array of new sensations.

His own hand mimics the fantasy, teeny mewls of, “oh, shit” and “fuck, it’s so good” rawing his jugular. He slows his pace, working down his cock gruelingly, pulling the foreskin down to reveal the shiny tip to the chilly air. He reaches down between his itching thighs, cupping his balls and fondling them, thumb pressing into the fleshy bit in the center and he can’t stop the stuttered sob that scrapes from deep in his lungs. Her ruby-red, bow-shaped lips are sucking a new sense into him, his eyes hazing over with the image of her kissing down his prick all the way to his balls and taking them into her palm, tugging and sucking fervidly.

Harry can feel his insides pass the boiling point, his abdomen and thighs giving foreshadowing clenches as he sinks down into the mound of feather pillows, torso twisting and thrashing as he crosses into dangerous grounds of stimulation. The cushions close around him as his dives deeply into them, swelling around his head and hugging his arms and sides, the light tickling sensation urging him to come undone. He’s breathing fast and spastic from his mouth and nose at the same time, tears squeezing from the corner of his eyes as he makes a variety of embarrassing, uncontrollable noises ranging from deep, choking grunts to high-pitched, sputtering whimpers.

And, of course, she’s there. The softness of the linen against his oversensitive body turns into her wandering fingers. The violent jerks of his fist melt into the warm velvet of her walls as she rides him. The rubbing of the pillow covers against the back of his head molds into her hands yanking and twirling at his matted, damp curls. And lastly, the caresses of his inhales and exhales as they leave his lips dissolve into her own breaths pushing into his mouth as her lips suck and chew at his, feeding bits of her intoxicating taste into his system to form a tight ball of sensual gratification at the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuck me. You’re such a good fucking girl fo’ me, aren’t you? Y'just feel so good…” Harry knows it’s borderline insane to be addressing her when he’s alone but he doesn’t care because he just has to get it all out somehow. In the cage of his mind, her voice responds to him, which is all that truly matters.

“Want you t'come, H. Wanna feel you fill me up.” It’s as if she’s hovering over him, staring right into his soul with those wide, innocent eyes as she bounces on his cock, tiny gasps leaving her swollen lips as not-so-innocent words slip freely from her mouth. “C'mon, Harry. Know you can be a nice boy and come for me, baby. Jus’ a little longer, yeah?”

The hand that was massaging his balls flies up over the pillow around his face, shoving the fluffy material into his mouth so that he can bite down all of his wails. The heels of his feet dig into the springy mattress, causing his back to buck off its surface. Harry’s chest heaves with every rattling gasp, teeny mewls of pleasure squeaking from his throat. His arm is taut with the effort he’s putting into his violent tugging, tattoos glistening with sweat in the dim light of a single bedside lamp. He throws his head back as far he can, tendons stretching tight and veins chiseling into existence down his neck and across his temples. A warm sensation suddenly inflates across his entire being and he can hear his teeth grinding down hard as his climax takes the reigns, thundering over his body without remorse.

When he bursts, it’s messy, to say the least. It splutters out in thick milky ribbons that splatter across his stomach and chest, his prick twitching nonstop in his clenched fingers. Flashes of red, white and yellow form webs behind his eyelids, bursts of brighter colors overlapping the spidery strands. He feels like it’s never going to stop– like he’s going to be squirting out forever because he can still feel the knot writhing in his stomach, demanding to be let out all at once. But he can’t take it; if he doesn’t stop, he thinks he’ll pass out.

Harry’s heart is hiccuping in his chest, the intense thumping suggesting it is trying to slam free through his ribs. His ears feel as if they were clogged with gauze, the only clear sound being the blood rushing through his head. His nose is the first thing that starts to go numb, the jittery sensation spreading across his whole face and crawling down his neck, taking ahold of every one of his nerve-endings. After the feeling has washed down his thighs is when he stops coming, his cock slowly going limp against his pelvis. After it’s spread across all ten of his toes is when he releases the wet fabric of the pillowcase from his aching teeth. After it’s dissolved away down to his chest is when his back muscles untangle themselves from each other, his whole torso slumping comatose into the elegant duvet. And, only after the feeling barely lingers in his fingernails and barely tickles the back of his skull, is when Harry’s eyes finally flutter open.

His head lulls to the side so that his chin presses against his left shoulder, gaze focusing on the neon green numbers of the digital clock on the polished nightstand. 1:17 AM.

He’d lasted seventeen minutes.

It’s quite shameful, he’ll admit. He usually lasts at least thirty solo and can work his way up to an hour with Y/N (with breaks, obviously). But he’d spilled in just over fifteen minutes, all because of a couple glasses of Billecart-Salmon Brut Rosé and some post-concert adrenaline.

Harry lays there for a while; how long, he’s not sure. He entertains his sleepy body with threading his fingers through his moppy hair, feeling small grainy bits of hair spray still sticking to the fluffed up mess. The sweat has dried to his skin, making the light breeze from the air vents feel cooler than normal and causing him to burrow under the thick comforter. The humungous flat screen on the wall in front of the bed shows his reflection with crystal clearness: He looks like he just went three rounds with a grizzly bear in an episode of Naked and Afraid. Except the name Naked and Fucked Out seems more appropriate. Or Naked and Covered In Jizz. He wipes himself down with some fancy rose-oil-infused tissues from a box inside one of the nightstand cabinets, setting the wad of napkins on the table to discard later.

After about ten more minutes of recovering, Harry kicks off the sheets, swinging his legs around the edge of the bed in order to get up. His movements are lazy as he takes his sweet time standing up, raising his arms above his head and stretching out the kink in his back until it cracks. He grabs the duvet, wrapping it carelessly around his hips and holding both sides together in one fist at his hip. For some odd reason, he doesn’t feel like walking around naked– he thinks it to be that the air conditioning has kicked in at full blast.

He shuffles hazily out of the bedroom section of the grand suite, all the way over to where his bottoms lay in a rumpled pile on the floor near the couch, leaning down to fish out his phone from the back pocket. Harry surfs through his notifications as he slowly walks towards the bar on the other end of the room, only really paying attention to a message from Jeff confirming Harry’s lunch with Stevie tomorrow. He walks around the marble counter of the bar, opening up the mini fridge and sifting through an assortment of colorful alcohol bottles. He hisses out a victorious, “Sick.” when he sees a bottle of Brachetto d’Acqui Rosso, his favorite sweet wine. He’s not up for anything strong at the moment– just something light and fizzy to sedate the gnawing in his stomach.

Harry snatches the most graceful glass he can find, using his teeth to rip open the crimson wrapping around the cap of the bottle and being thankful that it is the type he can unscrew. After pouring out half a glass, he leans forward on the counter on one elbow, sipping lightly and pulling up Y/N’s contact on his phone. As the line rings its toll, he licks at his lips patiently, savoring the hints of black cherry, raspberry and rose in his drink.

“Hello?” Y/N’s thick, drowsy voice crackles through the speaker and he immediately feels bad for calling her. He knew she hadn’t been awake but he just really wanted to hear her voice.

“Morning, love. How’s my favorite girl?”

“I was good until you woke me up.” She grumbles, the ruffling that comes through the line suggesting she is shifting around the bed and he imagines her rolling onto her side, tucking an arm under her head as she holds the phone to her ear with the other.

A fond smile twitches Harry’s cheeks as he tips back the glass again, letting the tangy yet silky liquid send a tingle through his tastebuds. “So you’re well? Nice. ’M good too, thanks for asking.”

Y/N sighs irritably, but he can tell she’s faking it. All she could talk about recently is how much she misses him, especially in the morning because it’s when she’s most cuddly. He knows she’s thrilled to hear from him and he’s happy to say the feeling is mutual.

“So, how’d the concert go?” She asks, excitement twinkling in her groggy voice.

“It was fucking amazing. Stevie’s just…wow. That’s it. Just wow. She even said she loves Two Ghosts and I nearly shit myself on stage!” Harry responds, setting the now empty class on the counter and filling it up some more, watching the effervescent liquid slosh around as Y/N sniffles on the other end. Her nose could get pretty backed up during the night due to her allergies.

“That sounds incredible, Har. You really deserved this. You’ve worked so hard for it.” He can hear the proud smile in her voice.

“Thank you, pet. Means the world, y'know? Actually, Stevie invited me to lunch tomorrow! She even knew that I liked Cafe Habana. Can you believe it?” Harry can’t keep the childish giddiness from his voice, his entire face lighting up at the thought.

Y/N’s bubbly laugh crackles through the phone. “That’s great, baby. So happy for you!”

He smiles timidly into the glass, blushing up a storm and he can never understand how Y/N has him so whipped without even trying. “Thanks. Again.”

Harry hears the sound of running water start up on the other end and he guesses she is up and about, probably brushing her teeth or washing her face.

“So,” her voice is muffled, confirming that she indeed is brushing. He can see her, standing in her Garfield pajamas with her hair up in a messy bun, her sparkly blue toothbrush hanging out of the side of her mouth as foam wets the corners of her lips. “Are you gonna tell me all the juicy details of the after party or not?”

He chuckles softly, hiking the duvet up his hips as it had begun to slide down. “Wasn’t really a party. We just went out for some drinks, s'all.”

“Oh, that’s nice! How did it feel to have Stevie Nicks toast to you? Y'know, since you love having your ego stroked and all.” Her teasing tone pokes at his self-proclaimed narcissism, but all he can truly think about is how she used the word “stroked” and it causes him to giggle at the coincidence.

Harry sips at his wine, eyeing the unkempt bed on the opposite side of the room and smirking to himself knowingly. “It was absolutely satisfying.”

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Hey Angel Chapter 81- The Wedding

Your weekend at the beach as a family was amazing. The kids loved waking up to the beach and building sandcastles with Harry. They loved swimming around in the swimming pool and lounging around in their swimsuits all day. You loved listening to the sound of the ocean waves hitting the shore whenever you woke up and as you fell asleep. 

But most importantly, you and Harry loved being able to spend time together as a family. 

Now, you all were back home and putting the final touches on the wedding, which was now only a week away. Everyone that was invited still only believed it was an engagement party, which is just what you and Harry wanted them to think. 

You and Ella had gotten your final fittings for your dresses and brought them home. Luckily, when you got home, Harry and Jackson were gone to get their fittings done, so you were able to hide the dress from Harry. You also wrapped up your wedding gift that you were going to give him. 

You had gotten Ella’s named legally changed to Ella Grace Styles. You had the document framed along with a picture of Harry and Ella after you two first met. You also had written him a note about how much you loved him and how thankful and grateful you were having him love and care for Ella as if she was his own. 

Once you got all of those packed away in a nice box, you wrapped it up and hid it along with the dress. When you came out of the room, you were surprised to see Harry holding two garment bags over his shoulder as he walked through the hallway. 

“Whatcha doin’ in there?” He smirked. 

“N-nothing. Nothing. Just doing some cleaning…” you said. 

“In the junk room?” He said raising an eyebrow. 

“Okay, you caught me. I was looking for something,” you said. 

“Uh huh, sure,” he said. “You were hiding something weren’t you!” 

“What would I hide?” You said walking into the bedroom. 

“Oh, I don’t know, your dress perhaps?” He said. 

You rolled your eyes. “Not at all,” you said. 

“Yeah, okay, keep denying it,” he said hanging the bags up in his closet. 

“Even if it was my dress,” you said. “I know that you would never go sneaking a peek of it because I don’t want you too.” 

“Of course not,” he smiled. “As much as I really want to see what it looks like, I don’t want to see it until I see my beautiful wife walking down the aisle to me.” 

You smile walking over to him. “So, you’re still okay with getting married this weekend?” 

“Baby, I’d marry you right now, if you wanted to,” he smiled. 

“I love you,” you whispered smiling up at him. 

“And I love you,” he smiled leaning down to kiss you. 

**

It was the morning of the wedding and it was super hard trying to get everything ready, while your families were staying in the same house as the party. Another thing that made it hard, was coming with excuses so that Harry and you didn’t see one another the entire day. 

This whole plan to have a secret wedding was good in theory, but trying to play it out, was tricky. The backyard was set up perfectly. Your and Harry’s favorite flowers were everywhere. The chairs and tables were covered with white linen and had your favorite colors twined into them. There was an amazing tent put up overhead to help with shade and to keep any potential paparazzi sightings to a minimum. 

White Christmas lights were strung along the top of the tent and lit up the entire inside of the tent. The cake had been delivered and was an amazing five tiered cake with flowers and the colors of your wedding. Lou was doing both your hair and makeup as well as Harry’s. 

The closer it got to sunset and the more guests were arriving, it was hard keeping this a secret. Especially since your mother, Anne, Gemma, and Abby were in the room with you. 

“I’m so happy for you and Harry,” Anne smiled. “What made you decide to have an engagement party so long after you two got engaged?” 

“Mum,” Gemma laughed. 

“No, it’s okay,” you laughed. “Well, we toyed around with the idea for a party for a bit, but then everything happened, so it got put on the back burner for a while. However, we both wanted to have a little get together with everyone before Willow and Wylie are born.” 

“That makes sense,” your mother said. “I’m just so happy that all of us were able to come.’

“Me too,” you smiled. 

“Have you two talked about a wedding date yet?” Abby asked. 

You went silent for a bit. Your heart skipped a beat and felt as if it dropped down to your stomach. 

“Uh, no, not really,” you said. 

“Well, you two still have plenty of time,” Anne said. 

“Uh, yeah,” you forced a smile. 

By the time it was ready for you to put on your dress, you told everyone, except Gemma to leave the room. When it was just the two of you, you bit your lip as you looked over at her. 

“I have something to tell you,” you said. 

“What’s up?” She asked. 

“Okay, but you have to promise not to tell anyone,” you said. 

“Okay,” she said a little apprehensive. 

“This party, it isn’t an engagement party,” you said. “It’s our wedding.” 

“Wait? What?” Gemma said confused. 

“We told everyone it was an engagement party, but it’s really out wedding. Harry and I wanted to get married before the twins were born and I came up with this idea. Plus, we thought this way it would be kept private and there wouldn’t be any potential leaks or anything,” you said quickly.

“Wow,” she said sitting on the bed. “Who’d a thought?” 

“Are you mad?” You asked. “Do you think everyone is going to be upset with us?” 

“Why would anyone be upset?” She smiled. “We’re all here because we’re supporting you and Harry getting married, so why would be upset that you two are getting married today?” 

“I don’t know because we lied or didn’t exactly tell anyone?” You said. 

“As long as this is something you and Harry want to do, then it’s all that matters,” she said. 

“Thank you,” you smiled. 

“Anytime, especially since in just about an hour we’re gonna be sisters,” she smiled hugging you. 

**

You were all zipped up into your dress and Ella was in hers. It was officially time to walk into the party and marry your man in front of your loved ones. Gemma had helped you in finishing to get ready and she was also going to be the one to tell everyone about the “change” of plans. 

After she told everyone, music would start playing and Harry would make his way through the backyard and stand in front of the “aisle”. Then Jackson and Ella would walk down together. In the midst of all that, Gemma would get your father and Hunter to come walk you down the aisle. 

You hoped they would agree to it and that they were upset with you, so when they both walked over and had the biggest smiles on their face, you couldn’t be happier. 

The music for you started to play and you walked your way through the backyard. Part of you wanted to look at the guests to see if anyone was upset, but all you cared about was looking at Harry, who had tears in his eyes as soon as he saw you. 

He brought his hands to eyes trying to wipe them away, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. When you finally got to him, he looked over to your father. 

“I know that you love my daughter and my granddaughter more than anything and I’m trusting you to love, care, and protect them for the rest of your life,” he said to Harry. 

“I will,” Harry nodded. “I’ll love them with my whole heart and more and I’ll protect them with my life.” 

Your father smiled and kissed your cheeks before you did the same with your brother. They went to sit down and Harry grabbed your hands. 

“Mama pwetty!” Ella giggled. 

“Yes, she is,” Harry smiled. 

The ceremony started and soon it got to your and Harry’s vows. 

“Harry, would you like to go first?” The minister asked. 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he sniffled. 

He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a notebook page filled with his scribbled writing. 

“When it comes to writing lyrics, or ideas, the words just flow from my mind to the paper I’m writing on, but when it came to writing these vows, I had the hardest time with it. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what to say, it’s just trying to express how much I love you into words is just not possible. Love is the greatest feeling that we could ever experience as a human being and I’m so grateful that I’m able to experience feeling with you. I always wondered if soulmates or true loves really existent and while I was always hopeful, it wasn’t until I met you that I knew they did. Our first meeting was not the best, hell even our second meeting was even worse, but for some reason you still gave me the time of day after that now here we are standing in front of closest friends and family, in front our children and soon to be born children confessing our love to one another and binding ourselves as one family for the rest of our lives. 

My life has always been a good one. I have a loving family and friends. I was given the greatest opportunity to do something I love and then I became a father, which is honestly the best thing that I has ever happened to me. But no matter how good my life was, I still missed something and didn’t even know what it was until I met you and Ella. You and Ella were the two missing pieces of my life and now on this day, joining our two families into one, I finally feel complete and can’t wait to see where the rest of our lives and love takes us,” Harry sniffled out looking into your eyes. 

As if your wedding day was already emotional enough being eight and a half months pregnant made it worse. You were a blubbering mess as Harry read out his vows and you were now wondering how you were going to get through reading yours to him. 

“And now, Y/N,” the minister smiled. 

You unfolded the paper your vows were written on and took a deep breath. 

“Harry,” you said. “When I sat down to write my vows to you, I didn’t know what to say, mostly because I wanted to try and not be of those people who cry during their entire wedding ceremony, but we see how well that worked out. Anyway, let’s move on,” you laughed. “Most every little girl at some point in their lives dreams about their wedding day and their prince charming. While I used to dream about this, I never really thought it was possible, at least until I met you. The beginning of our love story starts with you spilling hot coffee onto my new blouse and then it brewed into something more. We became friends and then lovers. We took our two broken families and mended them together. 

After I had Ella, I wanted nothing more than to find love with someone who loved me and her, someone who treated her as if she was his own and that person is you. She loves you more than anything in this world and you love her just the same. Seeing you being a father to both Jackson and Ella, makes me so excited to see you being the father to our new baby boy and baby girl, who will be making their way into this world in just a few short weeks. I can’t wait to holding our babies for the first time and seeing Jackson and Ella being the best big brother and sister, but most of all, I can’t wait to experience all of this and the rest of our lives with you by my side because I couldn’t, I wouldn’t ask for anyone else. You’ve had my heart since that first moment in the break room at the Late Late Show and I have no intention of ever wanting it back,” you whispered as the paper shook in your hands. 

You both then exchanged rings. 

“Everyone, I now pronounce you as Husband and Wife. You may now kiss your bride,” the minister said. 

Harry quickly brought your lips to his as you shared your first kiss as a married couple. 

“Here they are, Mr. And Mrs. Harry Styles!” He said. 

You and Harry walked down the “aisle” and the kids followed you two. You four had a special moment together celebrating before taking pictures as a family and then heading back outside to take pictures with everyone. 

All the guests in attendance, included the boys from One Direction were thrilled for you two. James, of course, was ecstatic and kept trying to convince Harry to name one of the babies after him. 

“Oh come on! You could do James and Jamie!” James said. “I mean, I’m partly responsible for this even happening,” he said pointing to your belly and the entire wedding. 

“As far as I know, you weren’t there that night, mate,” Harry joked. “And yes, thank you for us on your show, while Y/N worked there.” 

“It was my coffee that you spilled!” James groaned. 

“Technically it was for Macy,” you laughed. 

“But I bought it!” James said. 

“How about this? Let’s take a picture of us three together and we’ll hang it up in the house so we always remember who’s the reason we’re together,” Harry laughed. 

“Okay! But I’m in the middle and i expect this to be in a space that everyone sees it,” James said. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said. 

After some mingling and food, it was time for your first dance. Harry’s best friend, Ed Sheeran, was in attendance and Harry had arranged for him to sing your first song, which was both of your and Harry’s favorites, “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis Presley. 

It was hard dancing because your belly kept you and Harry quite bit of distance away from one another, but you two didn’t care. All that mattered was the fact you two were married now. After the dance, you and Harry took turns dance with your parents, he and Anne, you and your father. 

You then took a break and talked around with everyone before it was time to cut the cake. The kids were all up next to you and Harry waiting for their slice of cake. You and harry took turns shoving cake onto the other’s faces before doing the same to Jackson and Ella. 

“HEY!” They groaned trying to wipe their faces off and throwing the cake at you and Harry. You both laughed and got pictures taken with you four covered in cake and frosting. 

**

Soon it was time for everyone to leave, including you and Harry. He had arranged for the two of you to spend your wedding night at a private hotel nearby. When you arrived to the room, Harry tried picking you up, which wasn’t hard necessarily, it’s just he couldn’t really see over your belly, so he quickly walked you though the doorway and put you back on your feet. 

You laughed. “We might need to re-try that after the babies are born.” 

“Yes,” he laughed. 

He took off his suit jacket and laid it on the chair near the bed. He took off his boots and walked over to you. 

“As much as I love this dress, I bet you’d be more comfortable out of it,” he said. 

“Already trying to get a married woman into bed?” You gasped. 

He laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant I’d help you out of it and grab you a robe.” 

“Uh huh,” you said. “But yes I am ready to get out of it.” 

He laughed and unzipped the dress before helping you step out of it. He laid it next to his suit jacket and gave you a robe. You smiled and laid down on the bed. 

“Today was amazing and I couldn’t be happier, but I’m exhausted,” you yawned. 

“Tell me about it,” he laughed joining you. 

“Oh! Before I forget, its time for you to open your wedding present,” you said. 

“Baby, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he said. 

“I know, but this a special day, so I had to get something for you,” you said. 

You grabbed the wrapped box and handed it to him, while he did the same to you. 

“What’s this?” you asked. 

“Your uh wedding present,” he said. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” you mocked. 

He rolled his eyes. “Just open it,” he said. 

“No, you first,” you smiled. 

He sighed dramatically and ripped the paper and opened the box. He gasped when he saw the legal document with Ella Grace Styles written on it. 

“Is this-” he whispered. 

“Yep, Ella legally has your last name now,” you whispered. 

Harry broke down into tears and hugged you tightly. “Thank you, thank you so fucking much, this means… a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” you whispered. 

“She was so little when we first met,” he whispered. 

“I know and now she’s almost three and Jackson’s almost four,” you said laying your head on his shoulder. 

“And we’re about to add newborns into the mix,” he laughed putting his hand on your belly. 

You smiled and soon you opened up your box. When you pulled the tissue paper away, you revealed a black button up that had Styles embroidered on it, just like the one that Harry has. 

“I figured since you’re a Styles now, you needed your own shirt,” he smiled. 

“I love it,” you whispered. “But this doesn’t mean I still can’t wear yours does it?” 

“You can wear mine anytime you want,” he smiled. 

You smiled leaning over to wrap your arms around his neck. “I love you,” you whispered. 

“And I love you, Mrs. Styles,” he whispered. 

You giggled leaning forward to bring your lips to his. His lips widen into a smile as he kissed you back and just because you were pregnant, didn’t mean that you two couldn’t enjoy the rest of your wedding night just like any other newlyweds and enjoy it you did. 

[promomagazine]

Christopher Makos: The Artist’s Photographer

By:  Eduardo Gion Espejo-Saavedra

Legendary photographer of the eighties New York scene, Christopher Makos trained with masters Andrew Warhol and Man Ray. His photographs, as well as his Polaroids, have an inner vision and a particular sense. His works are exhibited worldwide at the best art galleries. He has become a master, the best among the best.  

In this exclusive interview, a version of which first appeared in the pages of the 12th issue of ODDA Magazine, Makos opens his heart in a unique interview.

Q: Do you remember your interests as a child growing up in California?

A: I was born in Lowell, Massachusetts and I lived there when I was a child until I was thirteen, and then I moved with my mom to Southern Eastern California. I spent my formative years in California, as a young man person moving from boyhood to manhood. That was exciting, and then going to high school and getting a car, because in Los Angeles you have to have a car. I remember first discovering my sexuality in Los Angeles too, that was a very confusing time for me. I loved being in the warm weather though, and having a car and driving to Hollywood. This was also the first time that I smoked marijuana. After I graduated from high school, the first thing I wanted to do was leave and go back East. Somehow I didn’t feel like I was a Californian, so I ended up going to New York City and that’s where I met Andy Warhol and started getting into the New York art scene.

Q: How did your interest in photography start?

A: I remember I was dating the actor Anthony Perkins and for my birthday he gave me a camera and that’s basically how I started. My first paid and published pictures came from Jan Wenner at Rolling Stone Magazine.

Q: There was any defining moment when you realized that your passion for photography could become a job to earn your living?

A: I always realized that if I wanted to take pictures, I had to make money out of it. It was expensive at the time, because you had to buy film and get it developed. Today, it is very different. If you want to be a photographer it is much simpler, because everything is digital. You can get a cheap camera, take pictures and process them at home on a computer. My motivation to be a photographer was much deeper than it is for most young people today. I realized that I had to figure out how to make money doing it, because if I couldn’t make money doing it, I couldn’t be a photographer.

Q: I’d say that your photographic work is somehow a visual manifesto of a specific time. When you take a picture, would you say that you want to document a specific moment or do you believe that every picture is always a lie or at least, a way of beautifying reality?

A: My pictures are more about being there in the moment and they don’t really lie, they are telling my truth at that moment. Pictures do lie of course, especially when you look at pictures in today’s world because people manufacture things and they change things and all that, but all of my pictures tell my own story. My pictures are more about a sort of dialogue that I am having with myself and the outside world around me. They are an auto-biography of my life: what I am doing, where I have been, how I live my life, who I meet and the people who I surrounded myself with.

Q: Which artists or photographers do you identify with, in the way they approach and understand photography?

A: I would say I identify more with photographers of the past like Man Ray, because not only did he take pictures, but he also enjoyed painting and drawing. I like artists and photographers that use the camera as a vehicle to express themselves in all kinds of different ways and not just necessarily through photography and social media as it is today. There are some contemporary photographers I love too, like what Paul Solberg does, he is the other half of The Hilton Brothers.

Q: One of my favorites is your portrait of Man Ray. Many people mistakenly claim that you were his apprentice, when in fact your time together was brief. Was there any conversation or intervention with Man Ray that had an impact on the way you see your life and work?

A: When I describe all of that and I talk to people, they say “Oh, you studied with Man Ray?”. Yes… well, I mean some people need four years to study, they think about a formal education at school… For me, I met someone for a few hours or 24 hours and I can learn a lot because I know how to absorb information. It is the same when I say that I studied architecture in Paris, I mean I walked around and looked at all the buildings. You don’t need to go to school to study something, you could come to New York City for one week and study the city, and look at all the buildings and people. You can get so much more from that real experience than you can by only looking at a book or having someone talk to you about it.

Q: What motivated you and Paul Solberg to start working together as the artistic duo The Hilton Brothers?

A: We both have the same mindset. I have been collaborating with other people my entire life; whether Andy Warhol or Calvin Klein, etc. When you are a writer you have to do it completely by yourself, you have to sit alone and write or type. For me, I was looking to find someone that speaks the same language as me, then explore that relationship and see how far we can go with our dialogue. Paul is one of those people that is easy to be around, easy to travel with, is good for bouncing ideas off and working together. Also the most interesting part of a collaboration for most people is the end result. While I am always proud of the end result, what I really enjoy is the process of creating. It is not about the destination, is about the journey. For me the journey to getting to the end is the most interesting part of all of this.

Q: I know that you are close to Calvin Klein. I’d like to ask you if you think that in the past there was a more genuine relation between the art world and the fashion world. I have the feeling that the collaborations between fashion and art today are more about corporate marketing than an honest exchange of creativity.

A: Yes, for sure. All the collaborations that you see today with these big companies, they are very over studied. I don’t want to criticize and say that they are not real or genuine, because I think once the collaboration begins, then they are real. But sometimes when you have so much money involved, it often corrupts the creative process… just because you have two big names and money, doesn’t mean it’s going to be a success. Maybe the process for them was really great but they have to be aware that the final result may not be what they hoped for. Perhaps in the past, collaborations between figures in the art world and fashion world were more fun and real. My collaborations were not related to money or fame. I have to know the people I do collaborations with personally. Now for example, fashion brands need to be mixed with artists and music-rappers.

Q: You taught Andy how to use his camera. What would you say is the most valuable thing you learned from him over the 10 years you both were together?

A: The thing I learnt most from Andy is how to run a business. It was such a mutual exchange… I wouldn’t say opposite attract though. If you both do the same thing, you are not learning anything new. Andy was a very famous painter and I was an emerging photographer. It was important for me to be involved in the world of art. I learnt a lot from him and I he learned from me . He travelled a lot and I did too, so we ended up travelling together all the time.

Q: You were present in many events that happened in The Factory. However, you are not considered a Warhol acolyte or a member of The Factory. Could you please explain this point?

A: It was because I met Andy separately. I had a genuine friendship with Andy. I didn’t pursue his friendship. I met Andy in a Whitney Museum exhibition and he asked me to go to Kansas City, later we met in his studio ,and this is how we started collaborating. We were both very lucky to be friends and to collaborate together.

Q: Personalities like Lou Reed, John Cale, David Bowie or Debbie Harry have dedicated songs to Andy. As Andy’s close friend, what characteristicsdo you think make him interesting, even today?

A: Andy’s work was uniquely American. Many artists from the last century and from 1950s, or even before, were inspired by Europe. They looked at Europe, for their reference point. It was European art and architecture, etc., but Warhol and so many artists like Roy Lichtenstein looked around for inspiration in America… Andy’s references were Elvis Presley, the electric chair, the Coca Cola bottle, the Campbell’s soup cans. These things were so uniquely attributed to the American iconography, and their ubiquitous presence represented American power and influence around the world.

Q: What do you think about people being so obsessed with celebrity culture? How would you say the perception of fame has changed since the 70’s? I’d dare to say that nowadays, it is unusual to find authenticity in any celebrity.

A: It is sad to be obsessed celebrity. People have to stop putting people on such a pedestal. There’s an artificial world created by the managers as a means for making money. Actually, there’s no privacy. People are very accessible in NY, but in LA it is different… distance keep you separate there, while in NY you can approach people very easily at the same level and find out that most are authentic. NY is a big equalizer, LA is not quite the same. Consistency is what will make you famous. Just be who you are.

Q: Do you think that the underground scene still exists?

A: No. To have an underground you have to have situations that are kind of funky or poor or places where you have to have some kind of a movement. All major cities are rich now, there are no poor cities anymore, Madrid is a rich city, Barcelona is a rich city… you have to have poor neighborhoods where artists can go and have a club because onl those places are inexpensive to have a club. The only place maybe you can have an underground is on Internet, where anyone can see them, there people can get together, and the neighborhood on the Internet is free.

[blackstarlinebrewing-blog]

Testimony 5.2.17

Let me tell you how God, my ancestors, spirit guides, and friends on the journey have been blessing me, in spite of myself!

 Last night, I did not go to sleep until 2 AM because my right hand and business partner, Shane, and I were so inspired. We were working through the wee hours of the morning and I finally decided to lay it down before the 5 AM “Rise and Grind.” 5 am came and went and I slept in until around 7 or so. I got up to the sun rising high in the sky and the beams of light entering all the windows in the living room. When I got up, I just felt something in my spirit shift and the anointing of the Most High.

 Spirit told me to just pray and be in meditation. My Pop sends me “Guideposts” every month for my reading and spiritual discipline. Also, we got a copy of “Our Daily Bread” at the hospital last month when we spent time there with my Gma. I got my Wesley Study Bible and began to pray, read, meditate. After praying and meditating, I had a great exchange with my Dad and just felt blessed. In my spirit, I surrendered to all the worries and just began to praise God in advance. I had been stressing out about finances and finding our permanent home, i.e. space. Today, something shifted and I stopped worrying and started to just believe. I knew I couldn’t see how God was working it out but that it had already BEEN worked out. I began to play my “Family Gospel Classics” and lit my candles (from Mrs. Lou), put on my oils (thanks Mrs. Lou, Joy, and Meleah), and lit the incense (Santos, lit one from you).

 The two requests the team and I have been working towards getting fulfilled are more capital for our expansion and a space.

 All the places we looked in to for contract brewing to help get our beers to the market fell through. It just didn’t make sense. All the spaces we considered had outrageous rent. There are obstacles to funding due to terrible credit, high student loan debt, medical bills (donating a kidney became a pre-existing medical condition until the ACA), and revolving debt due to not have stable employment or under-employment. Getting access to the funds has been a barrier and causes the cycle of pain, trauma, and shame.

 I sent an email to the team this morning expressing getting back in to re-alignment with our vision which is to intentionally have a small pico-to-nano sized family run and operated neighborhood brewery. I expressed to the team getting in to right relation with the vision given to me and called in my ancestors, spirit guides, and friends on the journey.

 One of my Mommas (Momma Roz) texted me and told me that it was $1 sub day at Jimmy John’s! She remembered and cared enough to text me. I recall where I was last year, hanging out with Krystal and Ekua and CJ. Everyone who knows me KNOWS a good sandwich is always in my future. After checking in with Ekua, we decided getting off the mountain and out of the house was a good idea. We certainly didn’t want to spend our Black dollars on Biltmore Ave. in Asheville. I didn’t want to go to Hendo and not be able to kick it with Joe and Lisa. So, we decided to head out to Morganton and surprise our new homies Courtney and Jamie. We loaded up some Dat Dere and headed out yonder.

 After getting in to Morganton and devouring some sandwiches, we went by the spot to see our homies. We passed a Black evangelist in the park who was reading scripture from Mark, my favorite of the gospels! This was inspiring and felt like God was about to work something out. Our homies were not there so we took a picture and were headed back to JJ’s for another sandwich. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tienda and asked Ekua to stop so we could check on candles. They pulled over in front of a building, we got out to walk and there was a “For Rent” sign. What were the chances dude would even answer?

 Mind you, earlier in the day I had prayed, surrendered, and asked God to reveal the plan, make it effortless (check the email!) and make sure it came with great ease.  So, I was looking at the signs, listening to spirit, and being led to the next steps.

 A man named Marcus answered the phone. Why is this significant? As y’all know, Marcus Garvey started the UNIA which gave birth to the original Black Star Line. Could this, presumably white man named Marcus, be the key to finding Black Star Line Brewing Co.’s home?!

 We walked around the building and noticed it also housed the Burke County Democrats, it was their headquarters. I peered in the windows and THOUGHT I saw a picture of HER (Hillary) on the wall. Wishful thinking perhaps. Marcus said he would be right down to show us the space. We waited, walked around and he rolled up in a Buick Lacrosse, just like my Momma’s.  

 The building had great potential and I could see everything unfolding before my eyes. Needs some TLC but it’s essential a clean slate. AND he said there was more space upstairs. Ekua and I walked upstairs and were looking around, it would be perfect to house the initiatives of 314 West, the #grassrootsreparations initiative, interns, sanctuary space, community space, everything. On the floor in one of the rooms were all these Hillary Clinton campaign signs! In another room, there was a Hillary Clinton clipboard. I was overwhelmed by all the signs (pun intended) and couldn’t wait to take a picture and call my friend Angela and tell her about the experience, the possibility, and my experience with Her energy in the space. Yes, Marcus let me take the signs and the clipboard.

 Marcus invited us to come to a meeting and said he would be interested in talking with me more about our vision. Ekua was tired so we said we may roll through. Really, we both needed to go home and finish “our work.” There were deadlines and other stuff to be done. I couldn’t help but think about the story of Mary and Martha preparing for Jesus…

 We walked across the street to the tienda because I wanted to get some candles for the altar. After finding the candles we looked up and there were huge burners above! Interesting because we are just about to buy some additional burners for our lil brew operation. Again, another sign! After leaving the store, we decided to roll through the meeting.

 Once we got to the meeting, we sat with our new buddy, Marcus. Sitting next to us was our homie Courtney’s dad. We had never met him before! We were introduced at the meeting and people applauded when they heard of the vision and were sincerely and genuinely excited about the possibility of us becoming renters and a collaboration. It was a whirlwind! Had MommaRoz not texted us, had Jamie and Courtney not come to the showing of “I am not your Negro,” had Joe and Lisa not been at the beach, NONE of this would have happened! BUT GOD! This was the warm and welcoming group of people we had been searching for in the area since we moved back after being homeless and dealing with the shit treatment from the non profit world treating us like we were disposable pieces of trash who were unworthy of compassion.

 Tired and excited with tons of hours of work to do, Ekua excused ourselves and left the meeting early after we connected with the group. I was riding on a wave of excitement. Could this be? Did God just work this out? Would we have a home? After the trauma we experienced working with a project for land and someone telling us we had it then snatching it away, it felt very uncertain. What was happening?

Immediately, I called my Dad to express the excitement, the blessings, and just the sense of expansiveness and God working it out. I called Steve. Then called MommaRoz. We were half way home and received a call back from Marcus that Mark (the president) would like to meet with us and hear more. We deliberated, checked in, turned the car around and headed back to Morganton.

Once we got to the spot, we received a warm welcome and one of the ladies from the party even expressed having roots in East Tennessee!!! That is where my people are from! Everything was falling in to right alignment and we were following the vision. It was spirit led.

 Y’all, long story short – Black Star Line Brewing Co. is setting up shop in Morganton! We are blessed beyond belief, have a great space, and are excited to be in collaboration with folks who share our values and see us!

 I would start a list of folks to thank but there are so many people to list, I simply can’t. Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I am so grateful to the ancestors, spirit guides, and friends on the journey who opened this door of opportunity. I am so excited that we’ll have a home to be settling as we fine tune our craft in Hendo. I am grateful for this prayer answered. I am honored, humbled, and delighted to be moving in this next stage in Black Star Line Brewing history.

 Can’t wait to welcome y’all home to Larry’s Lounge Morganton!

 Cheers y’all!