#I’m so sorry Lola. your time is limited.

[prince-hikari-ku]

edorsed

*lemony snicket voice* police cars say ‘protect and serve’ for the same reason a box of dry, unflavoured rice cakes might say ‘delicious treat’. rice cakes are not a delicious treat, nor are the police there to protect and serve, but if you are unfamiliar with either you’re likely to believe what you’re told.

[ssadumba55]

Binders (Looney Tunes X FtM! Reader)

A/N: Literally sorry if this is inaccurate as hell I have not started wearing a binder yet and literally have no idea what entirely happens when you wear one during sports I just wanted to write something cute. Also of course, this is set during Space Jam: A New Legacy so if you haven't seen that don't read under the keep reading thing (spoilers). I know I said a while ago I don't write Looney Tunes, but I have watched both Space Jams and fallen in love. I plan to delve further down the rabbit hole but for now my knowledge is limited to Space Jam so please be gentle if this out of character. Also you can make up a reason how/why you ended up on the team haha. I really didn't think this through I just wrote it. Either way, enjoy!

You looked at yourself in the mirror, it was the halfway point in the game and you were exhausted. You had to play like your life depended on it (because it did) but this entire thing was tiring. Not to mention you could feel the strain from your binder underneath the bright orange and blue Tune Squad jersey. It wasn’t meant to be worn during intense exercise and you were worried this whole ordeal might ruin your chances of getting top surgery.

But you couldn’t go out there without it on. You weren’t flat enough to pass and if they saw your chest there would be questions, questions you weren’t ready to answer. You loved the tunes, but they weren’t exactly the best at being discreet. The idea of being outed to thousands of people in the middle of a life or death basketball game made you shudder.

Glancing over your shoulder to make sure you were really alone, you decided to give yourself a quick break. You pulled the jersey over your head and then the binder, pulling the jersey back over your chest just in case someone decided to barge in. You could easily turn around and pretend to be busy so they wouldn’t see your chest. You sat down, leaning against the wall and closing your eyes.

The burning in your chest was still there but at least now you had room to breathe more than you had before. There was still 10 minutes of half time left (you’d booked it in here as soon as halftime was called), you just had to get through one more half-

“(Y/n)...?” A familiar uncertain voice called and you nearly jumped two feet in the air. Your arms immediately crossed over your chest.

“Daffy! Shouldn’t you be out there? You are the coach, right?” You laughed nervously, stepping in front of your binder still laying across the bench you’d been sitting on. If Daffy was here, it was only a matter of time before the other tunes and worst of all, Lebron James, noticed you two were missing.

The cartoon duck put his hands, wings?, on his hips.

“We’ve been looking for ya, ya didn’t hear tha new looney game plan. Is something tha matter?”

His question was genuinely curious. He clearly didn’t understand why you were hiding away from the rest of the group, he was just worried for his friend and you couldn’t blame him. It did seem a little weird that you were back here, hiding, when you guys were losing the game so badly.

“I- I’ll be right out, just let me finish getting ready,” you promised him, “catch me up on the way out to the court?’

He shrugged and nodded, walking away to give you your own privacy. You sighed, looking down at your binder. Things would’ve been so much easier if you’d just been born a male. You wouldn’t need to risk your body wearing this thing during sports.

You pulled your jersey over your head and began to pull the binder over your chest. Once it was back on, you could feel your body protest immediately, but you didn’t have a choice. You threw your jersey back on and headed out, checking yourself over in the mirror once before.

“Alright, guys. I’m ready…” You walked out, hands on your hips to greet your teammates, only to be met with unreadable expressions on everyone’s faces. It was as if they somehow knew what you were doing and disapproved. You only had a couple minutes before you all needed to be on the court though, so nobody said anything.

The group headed back out and you tried to match the energy, but you had to face the music. Your body was strained, even without the binder this would be a lot to put it through and with it, it was almost unbearable. You took a step toward the court to join the others, and the world felt a little fuzzy.

You must’ve fallen and blacked out, because the next thing you know you’re laying in a bed and somehow you’re not dead. Maybe that had all been a crazy dream. You’d never gotten stuck in a server forced to play basketball with an all powerful algorithm. You’d never worn your binder during it all, you’d never met the Looney Tunes.

For a moment you fooled yourself into believing that. And then a sharp pain came through your body.

You let out a cry of pain and the door was pushed open.

“You’re okay!” You hadn’t been expecting the Tunes to be on the other side of the door… or in this world in general but somehow seeing them made you relax a bit. If they were here that must’ve meant they’d won the game. No thanks to you, but they hadn’t been deleted. They’d defeated Al-G. Lebron had gotten his son back.

“I’m okay. What are you guys even doing here anyway?” You asked, slightly exhausted.

Daffy and Bugs both hopped on the bed, trying to fight for a spot to sit (that apparently needed to be the spot where the other was sitting). You watched them squabble for a bit before Lola pulled them apart.

“Stop that, you’re going to hurt him,” she scolded them, shoving them to the side, then turning to address you.

“We were worried about you. Mr. James was really nice and let us stay for a bit so we could be here when you woke up,” she explained.

“You weren’t supposed ta be wearing that thing on your chest, were you?” Daffy crossed his arms over his own chest and you laughed nervously. They all knew. You wondered who had explained it to them.

“Look, guys. I know you’re mad that I lied to you-”

They all blinked, exchanging looks as if the thought had never even crossed their minds. Your face heated up, had you said something wrong?

“We weren’t mad about your gender, (Y/n), if that’s what you’s thinking. We’re just worried about that chest thing. They said you was wearing it the whole game until you passed out. You know that’s not healthy, right?” Bugs' ears had flopped behind his head.

You laughed nervously. “No it’s not, you’re right. I should’ve known better, I’ll be more careful next time. Sorry guys.”

They seemed to genuinely accept this apology, though they still looked worried. You prodded them to tell you what happened during the game after you passed out and they did relay it in shocking detail, you wished you could’ve been there to see it. After a while, they were ushered out so you could get some rest, Daffy hung back.

“I saved this for ya. Thought ya might want it.” He handed something tattered, it was your binder. They must’ve cut it off to save time. It had cost so much to get and it was all down the drain now. You took it, tossing it across the room into the trash can by the door. You winced as you laid down but it had gotten in and you were satisfied.

“I’ll get a new one, thanks though, Daffy.” You smiled at him and when the two of you met eyes, you could see that genuine curiosity from before. “You want to hang out here for a bit? I know I’m supposed to be resting but I feel like I’ll go insane if I can’t talk to someone.”

Daffy placed his one hand on his hip and brought the other up to tap his beak as if deep in thought, then all of a sudden, he launched himself up on the bed.

“Let me tell ya something, (Y/n). I have been working on something I can’t show tha others yet and you’re tha perfect person to try it out on-”

You felt all warm and fuzzy as he continued to ramble. There was something special about being accepted by a bunch of cartoon characters you’d looked up to for so long. Even though you were certain they didn’t fully understand, having their support and friendship meant the world.

You’d be sad when it was time for them to head back to Looney Tune World.

Oh well, maybe you could visit them sometime.

[certifiedskywalker]

Pomegranate Chapstick - Peter Parker

It’s Winter in New York City. Not that movie magic kind of Winter that reeks of mistletoe and Hallmark channel cliches. No, it’s no longer the Holiday Season and everyone is back to school after Winter Break. Peter Parker is happy to be back because being back means being able to see you again. Though, something is different about you but he just can’t place it.

“What is it?”

“Y/N…”

“Yeah?” Ned looked in the same direction as Peter, who, suddenly self conscious, turned his friend back around to face him. “What is it?”

“Don’t, don’t look! I just…” Peter found that his eyes trailed back over to where you talking with MJ. Your eyes were bright, hands gesturing about you as your friend shared you into a passion. Despite your movements, Peter found himself drawn back to your smile.

“Something’s different,” he finished, “but I don’t know what.” 

“It’s only been like two weeks. It was Christmas literally a few days ago.” Peter glanced warily at Ned before he looked back to you. You were still smiling. The sight made his chest tighten, stole his breath directly from his lungs. “Pete?”

“You remember Homecoming,” Peter pointed out as he met Ned’s eyes, “that all happened in a week and I almost died. Twice! Anything could have happened over break.”

Peter let his eyes wander back to you. Whatever MJ was discussing with you was enthralling. You were completely consumed, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Slightly hidden under all of the layers of Winter clothing you were wearing, you looked warm, aflamed and bright. Suddenly, you threw your head back, laughing at something MJ had said.

The sound sent a shiver down Peter’s spine that he tried to pass off as a response to the cold. He pulled the sleeves of his jacket over his chilled hands and adjusted the strap of his backpack that dug into his shoulder. Ned blinked at him a few times, too close of a friend to not notice Peter’s nervous ticks. 

Eventually, Ned glanced over in your direction too. “Well, Y/N seemed alright. We had Advanced Geometry together and we talked.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Really? Did anything happen?”

“From what Y/N said, your Winter break was way more eventful, Spiderman.” 

Peter knocked the back of his hand against Ned’s shoulder to hush him. Classmates continued to file out of the school, laughing and chatting about the less than glorious return to academia. Peter eyed them all as they stepped down the stairs to the streets of the city. None of his peers seemed to have picked up on Peter’s secret. Satisfied his identity was safe, Peter glanced at Ned with a warning balanced in his frown.

“Sorry,” Ned said, raising his hands. 

“Gotta be more careful.” Peter glanced around at the faces of his classmates once more. Everyone was too caught up in leaving school for the day to notice the worried look on his face. All except you when Peter accidentally met your eyes. Quickly, he tore his gaze away and stared directly, wide-eyed, at Ned.

“What?”

“Y/N.” Ned glanced over in your direction.

“Headed over with MJ. Why?”

Peter’s face warmed to the point where the scarf wrapped around his jaw was pointless. “And? Does...is...do I look okay?”

Ned squinted before his lips broke into a wide grin. A laugh rattled in his chest and Peter felt a fresh wave of panic wash over his shoulders. 

“What?! Do I look-”

“Hey losers,” MJ greeted, standing by your side. Peter glanced at the curly-haired girl before he saw you gently elbowed her shoulder. He met your eyes and felt his lips instinctively curl up in a lopsided smile.

“Hi,” Peter said softly as he tried to steady his breathing. Now, with you closer, he tried to study you, sleuth out what was different.

“Hey! Do you guys wanna do something? Hang out?” 

Your smile was still as bright as your eyes as you asked. Maybe it was the ruddiness in your cheeks, spurred on by the cold that made you seem changed? No, that was too simple. 

“Nah, I gotta work,” MJ said. 

“Wow, you got a job?” Ned asked, causing Peter to glance away from your face for a moment. When he looked back to you, Peter found that you were looking at him. Though, you quickly looked to MJ, waiting for her reply.

“Yeah, over break. At the QuikMart.”

Maybe you got a haircut or, possibly, you dyed your hair and the color was fading back to it’s natural tone. Aunt May had dyed her hair a dark red one year. Peter remembered thinking there was blood in the tub when the pigment started to wash out. Though, even with his ‘Spidey-vision’, as Ned called it, Peter couldn’t detect a color.

“Awesome. Can you get me free slushies?” 

“Bro, I don’t even get free slushies,” MJ replied, frowning at Ned. “I gotta go, can’t be late. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“See ya,” you said, waving off your friend as MJ walked along the snowy sidewalks. Peter swallowed hard when you looked back to him and Ned. “What about you two?”

“I told my mom I’d be back after school to help her with my lola, my grandma.” Peter’s brow furrowed and he turned his head to look at Ned. “Really? You need help?”

“No, she’s coming over to make some food,” Ned explained as he started down the steps of the school. “I’m mom’s moral support.”

“Oh…”

“Well, have fun with that,” you said, bringing Peter’s eyes back to focus on you. “Maybe next time then.”

Ned let out another laugh. It was eerily similar to the laugh he gave Peter when he asked if he looked okay. Something about the sound made Peter’s stomach twist. 

“You two have fun!” Ned’s shout disappeared after him, down the sidewalk and into the city. His words left you and Peter alone. You glanced back to him with a soft smile on your lips. Peter couldn’t help but smile back at you, even though he did so nervously. His eyes flickered up to yours then back to your lips.

While your smile was unchanged, still yours and beautiful, he kept coming back to your lips. It had to be your lips that were different and Peter leaned in slightly to figure out how. Your eyes widened slightly and Peter’s face burned with realization.

“Uh, sorry,” Peter shifted back and let his gaze fall. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“I-I...to be honest, I don’t know. I just missed you over Winter break. Missed, all of you, I mean. MJ and Ned, and you.” You held Peter’s eyes for a fleeting glance before you busied yourself wiping snow off the steps with your boot. 

“Yeah, I,” Peter felt his chest tightened again, “I missed you too, Y/N.”

You looked back up at him, met his brown eyes and gave him a closed-lip smile. Silence fell over the two of you but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was easy, not tension filled and heavy. Being with you was always easy for Peter but this new nervousness that bloomed over Winter break was difficult to manage. He couldn’t let his eyes linger on you too long until fear took hold.

The silence too had its limit. “We should head over to the library maybe. You have Ms. Turner for chem, right? We could study together if you want.”

Peter fought the urge to cringe as his suggestion. In his head, it sounded better, more thought through. He had missed you and wanted to spend time with you. So, naturally, he had to recommend the quiet library. Maybe he was the one that was different, more awkward.

“Sure, yeah!” You started down the steps and Peter trailed after you. “She’s new and I’m a bit nervous about how she tests.”

“I’m nervous too,” Peter agreed as he fell into step beside you. “About the test.”

Peter glanced at you from the corner of his eyes and saw that you were already looking at him. Quickly, you both looked away from the other and started to walk silently towards the library. Every so often, Peter felt your gloved hand against the skin of his bare knuckles. Each time you touched him, a new sense of curiosity struck him. This quietness was different, he wasn’t sure that he liked it, and your hidden change still gnawed at him.

Mr. Stark had given Peter many words of wisdom. Always ask questions was, seemingly, his motto when it came to his ‘internship’. Though, Peter couldn’t find the words. Everytime he did, he second guessed. 

Hey, what did you get up to over break? New style? No, no, no! It had to be your smile. He was stuck on your smile, your lips. 

Finally, with nerves and desperation bubbling up inside, Peter let the words come out without thinking. “Y/N, are you wearing like lipstick or something?”

You laughed, drawing the attention of those around you. The last crosswalk before the library was fast approaching and Peter needed to find out what had changed before you were both doomed to a respectable quiet. 

“Lipstick? No, I am wearing tinted chapstick though.”

“Oh,” Peter’s brow furrowed, “I guess maybe that’s what’s different.”

“Different?” At your amused tone, Peter looked at you, brown eyes searching your face. There was a softness in his eyes and stole your breath away. His lips turned up slightly at the corners, the gentlest smile you had ever seen.

“You just...you look-”

A car horn, loud, alarming, and terribly frightening ripped through the air. Peter reacted to the sound, lurching forwards and wrapping his arms around your waist. Even with your bag slung halfway on your back, Peter was able to catch you as you nearly fell into the street. The car horn faded into the distance but your attention shifted from death to Peter in an instant. 

“Beautiful,” he finished. 

Finally, it clicked. You hadn’t changed, but the way Peter saw you had. The way he saw your lips had shifted too. More enticing than ever before. 

“Peter, I…” 

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Peter said, quickly helping you back to your feet and out of the crosswalk. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you said with a swallow breath. Peter’s hands were still on you, thumbs gently rubbing your coat-covered, upper arm. Your eyes lingered on Peter, unable to tear them away.

His breath, and yours, came out in small clouds, chilled by the cold. Together, you made your own atmosphere and shared the same air. Adrenaline pumped through Peter’s veins, filled, not with curisoulity anymore, but want. He took a step closer. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes?” You found yourself coaxed closer by his warmth. 

“Can...can I kiss you?”

You smiled again and nodded. “Yes.”

Peter leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. His fingers dug into the material of your coat softly. One of your hands reached up, cupped his face and accidentally knocked his hat off of his brown curls. Neither of you cared and, instead, savored your shared late-Winter kiss. Peter’s hands trailed up your arms until they gently held your jaw, keeping your lips on his.

Peter’s eyes stayed closed and a smile plastered on his face when you pulled away. A chuckle passed over your lips when you saw how your tinted chapstick left a faint stain on Peter’s lips. Carefully, you used your thumb and wiped what residue you saw away. Peter’s eyes opened at the touch and his smile widened.

“Pomegranate?”

“You like it?”

Peter pulled you in for another kiss after saying, “I love it.”

[eyayah-oya]

To Hold You Close Again

Clone Ship Week | Day 5 | Reunion | @cloneshipweek

Fives/Echo

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Ao3 link

           Fives wasn’t sure what to think when Healer Knight Eerin (as she demanded she be called instead of General since he refused to call her Bant) told him that he was needed in the hangar by mid-morning. When he’d asked about it, Knight Eerin just shrugged her shoulders and blinked her big, luminous eyes at him.

           “It’s the will of the Force,” she’d said, much to Fives’s annoyance.

           “Karking Force osik,” he grumbled as he made his way through the mess and clutter of the hangar.  Far too many ships needed repairs after the toll the war had taken on the Temple’s fleet.  He swore extra loud when he stubbed his toe on a stray metal part, only stuttering to a halt when he noticed the youngling (Initiate??  Small child.) standing nearby, staring at him with wide eyes. He apologized and shuffled awkwardly over to the landing pad.  Maybe this was where he was supposed to go?

           Fives was still on light duty, otherwise he would gladly be out there helping his brothers clean up after the war.  But he’d taken a blaster bolt to his chest and actually died on the warehouse floor before General Skywalker had done something with the Force and restarted his heart.  He’d been taken to the Halls of Healing and placed in a healing trance for two weeks in the same room as Tup.  But Tup had been discharged two days ago, free from the fear of the Kaminoans trying to dissect him, leaving Fives alone in his recuperation.  Fives had only been released from constant bed-rest last week, and he was not going to push his luck with the Jedi Healers by pushing himself past his limits.

           Still, Fives had absolutely no idea why Knight Eerin had decided to send him on a wild-wampa chase in the hangar of all places.  Maybe some brothers wanted to talk to him?  Or a group of padawans or younglings?  Or maybe he needed to brief a commander from the far fronts of the war on the chips and help them implement a schedule to remove all of them from his troopers’ heads.

           A ship swooped down dangerously and landed on the pad it was directed to.  If Fives wasn’t absolutely positive that General Skywalker wasn’t off playing house with Senator Amidala all day, he’d say that the ship was some hunk of junk the General had found and decided to fly to the Temple.  When a team of Healers practically flew past him towards the incoming ship, only then did Fives wander over to observe.  He was curious who had returned and what kind of injuries would require the presence of half the Temple’s Healers.

           Knight Eerin waved at him as she readied a stretcher. Her smile was tight with worry, but no less genuine towards Fives.  She was nice like that.  (And she told the best stories about Generals Kenobi, Vos, Unduli, Fisto, and a few other Jedi.)

           Making sure to stay out of the way, Fives leaned against the wall as the ramp lowered.  Rex, Jesse, and another vod Fives didn’t know (at least, he assumed they were vod’e since they wore clone armor) rushed out with Commander Cody laid out on a stretcher between them.  Rex talked quietly with Master Che, likely explaining what injured Cody to the point that he’d need to stay in the Jedi Temple to heal.

           Fives pushed off from the wall and walked towards the group, ready to ask how he could help.  He was nearly to Rex, when Kix started walking down the ramp, his arm around a vod who had three missing limbs and far too much metal attached to their body. Fives froze mid-stride, eyes wide and unbelieving as he stared at the vod.

           It had been nearly a year since he’d last seen Echo, but he knew his riduur’s body better than his own.  The old scar slashed across their ribs was from Kamino when Cutup fell off his pod and took Echo down with him.  The blaster wound on their hip bone was from their first mission with the 501st on Felucia.  More than the scars, however, Fives recognized Echo’s eyes, a warm brown that always seemed to be glinting with joy or love or mischief.

           “Echo?”

           The name tore from Fives’s lips like a prayer to the Force. It was barely loud enough for Fives to hear, let alone anyone else in the loud hangar, but something must have alerted the vod, because their head jerked up to look directly at Fives.

           “Wha—Echo!  What are you—oh,” Kix stuttered when Echo pushed away from him to hobble down the ramp towards Fives.

           Oh Ka’ra, it really was them.  Fives stumbled forward until he stood at the bottom of the ramp, staring as his riduur stumbled awkwardly towards him.  As desperately as Fives wanted to tackle Echo in a hug right there, the pale skin, sunken stomach, prostheses, and other bits of metal stopped him.  Instead, he waited for Echo to come to him.

           “Fives!” Echo sobbed and threw themself at Fives, who gladly caught them and pulled them close.

Every thought and worry about Echo’s condition flew out of Fives’s mind and was replaced by the euphoria of being able to actually hold them in his arms again. He’d never expected to see his riduur, his sweet cyare, again in this life, but they were alive!  Echo was alive!

           “Echo!” Fives sobbed, pressing his face tight against his riduur’s shoulder.  “I thought you were gone!  I thought you died!  How are you here?”

           Echo only gave a shuddering cry against Fives’s shoulder. Their legs crumpled beneath them, and Fives carefully lowered them to the floor, terrified that he’d somehow hurt his riduur more by moving too fast or gripping too hard.  It was only once he was seated on the cold hangar floor with Echo in his lap, did Five realize that he was crying too.

           “Echo—Echo—Echo—Echo!” He chanted his cyare’s name, unable to fully express everything he was feeling.  Fives was horrified to realize that he’d left his riduur—his living riduur—on Lola Sayu to the mercy of the Separatists. They’d been captured, Fives had no doubt, and forced to endure unimaginable horrors.  And he hadn’t even thought to look for Echo.  He just assumed they were dead.  But Echo was alive!  Fives actually got to hold his riduur in his arms again, could feel the way their chest expanded with every breath and the beat of their heart.  Echo was alive and Fives didn’t have to live without them again.

           He was thoroughly content enough to just sit on the floor of the hangar and never let Echo go, but Echo had different plans.  They pulled back just enough to slot their lips together in a wet, desperate kiss.  Their tears mingled, and Fives could taste the salt with every shift of his lips against theirs.  His nose was running—it always did when he cried—and Echo’s metal implants were digging into some very uncomfortable bits, which was sure to leave some interesting bruises.  Echo’s skin was cold to the touch, and he could feel every bone in their body instead of the gorgeous expanse of muscle they used to have.  Fives was struggling to breath steadily, still not entirely healed from his run-in with the Coruscant Guard and he kept having to break away to breathe deeply.

           He wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

           It was the perfect kiss.  It said “hello” and “I missed you” and “I love you, never leave me again”.  Every desperate press of their lips and hitched sob told tales of heartache and aching loneliness they’d both suffered while apart.  Every caress and tight squeeze spoke volumes of how they needed each other, how happy they were to see each other again.

           Eventually, the kisses shifted from open-mouthed, desperation to soft brushes of their lips.  Fives held Echo close, their foreheads pressing together and their noses brushing with ever minute shift of their bodies.

           “I’m so sorry,” Fives whispered.  “I should have gone back for you.  I should have looked for you.”

           Echo shook their head.  “No, it’s not your fault.  You couldn’t have known I was still alive.  I didn’t even think I was still alive when they took me.  You are not allowed to blame yourself for what happened to me, just like I can’t blame myself for not being there to protect you.”

           Fives laughed quietly and desperately, though there wasn’t anything funny about what Echo said.  The pure relief, the horrors of the last year of the war, his own close brush with death all bubbled out of him in the only way it could since he’d already sobbed most of his tears onto Echo’s shoulder.  It took far too long for him to compose himself, helped by Echo’s soothing promises and words of comfort.  They carded their fingers through his hair while their other limb pulled Fives closer. The laughter turned to hitching dry sobs, and then tiny whimpers.

           With a sniff, Fives drew back and looked Echo in the eye, holding their hand and prosthetic gently.

           “I love you,” Fives said with the same kind of unshakeable certainty he’d had the very first time he’d admitted his feelings for Echo. “I love you so much, Eyayah.  Don’t leave me ever again.  You’re not allowed to leave me ever again.”

           Echo chuckled wetly and leaned against Fives’s shoulder again.  They looked exhausted and pained.  They also looked content for the first time since they’d been pulled out of the cryogenic chamber.  Echo pressed a kiss to Fives’s collarbone and vowed, “I’m not planning on it. Darasuum.”

           “Darasuum,” Fives echoed.

           A throat cleared, and Fives jerked his head up to see Rex standing in front of them, smiling fondly down at the two (Two! Not one!) Dominos.  “We need to take Echo to the Halls of Healing, and Knight Eerin says you need to get back to your bed, too.  Master Che also wanted me to inform you that Echo will be put in your room, since you “won’t realize he has karking limits now and will injure himself by being an idiot and trying to sneak into the other one’s room”.  That’s a direct quote, if you’re wondering.”

           Fives laughed.  “Sounds about right,” he readily admitted.  Rex and Kix helped Fives and Echo climb to their feet and walk over to a hoverchair that would take Echo to the Halls of Healing.  Fives refused to let go of his riduur’s hand for one second (which might have made things a little more difficult for Kix since Echo only had one hand ((What the hell happened to Echo?)) and half an arm).

           Before Kix could start herding them off to get checked over, Rex pulled both Fives and Echo into a soft keldabe each.  “I’m really happy for you both,” he murmured, clapped them both on their shoulders, and then went back to talk to those strange vod’e.

           Master Che and Knight Eerin figured that Echo would need several surgeries to remove all the apparatuses in their body, as well as new prostheses.  It would be a long recovery, but Fives didn’t mind in the slightest.  He would support Echo in every way he could, through rough physical therapy, countless surgeries, and awful PTSD.  He would gladly help them with it all with a simple joy that Echo was alive.

           Over the coming months, the Separatists officially surrendered and the treaties all signed, the clones were given their rights, and they now had a planet they could colonize themselves.  As amazing as each of those things were, none of them filled Fives with the exquisite joy of being able to hold his riduur again. They’d get to live a happy life together and that was all that truly mattered.

[toonjazzy]

I am Not Perfect

Told in Devon’s point of view.

I have never been a perfect daughter. I’m more of a son most the time than a daughter anyway. But either way I’m not perfect at all. My mom was often judged by other moms or even her own family because of me. Because I would try to be perfect like everyone said I should be but I would fuck it up and then cry as people would talk about my mother rudely. But my mom would tell me “It’s Okay Mi rayito de Sol, you tried your best and your best is enough” But even though it made me feel better, I still wished to be like “Pretty Perfect little Reese Bianca” and “Señorita Perfecta Sicillia”, or even Stacey who got away with everything because she’s cute. But no matter what, I was never perfect like I wanted to be.

As a child, I was told by my own cousins that I was “Too much to handle”. They hated my high energy, that I was always smiling, that I would go from a “Nice quiet little girl” to an “Angry She-Demon”. I was so confused, I wasn’t allowed to be happy, sad, or angry? Did they want me to be emotionless? They were a bunch of assholes to be honest, to all of us, or even to our other cousins! There were 4 of them, Courtney, Crimson, Lola, and Deidre. The only one who was never actually mean was Crimson, they were more quiet and always apologizing whenever their sisters would be mean to us as kids. But man the bullshit that came out of their sisters’ mouths…

They were just AWFUL, they were Heteronormative, Cisnormative, and Amatonormative. And GUESS who were the Queer ones, me, my sisters, and Harley. Man they messed us up so much…Pretty much all they did was talk about boys and other shit that really made us uncomfy. Poor Lia and Harley, they often got dragged into it because as I said before, they saw Lia as “Señorita Perfecta Sicillia” so they of course let her into their little “Club”, but they wouldn’t allow her to leave. And Harley got dragged in because her and Lia were inseparable, Lia felt more safer if Harley was with her as they understood her. Also, Lia actually was never “perfect”, she was just better at masking than I was which is also why she was diagnosed late. Also our cousins did not know that her paper doll games were often murder games when we were at home—

Ah, I’m getting off track again, sorry. So…Playing with dolls was kind of strange around them. We had Gay couples, all we had were Girl dolls so we made those date each other. They thought it was strange…That wasn’t all, I sometimes made Polycules with my dolls and they told me “You can only date one person, you are supposed to date one person at a time until you find ‘The One’ and then marry them, have a family, and live happily ever after, and then it repeats because that’s how life works” ………EW!! Like, what the actual fuck!?!? That is just straight up bullshit! It is not my fucking top priority to date someone, never has been! Even though I do kind of want a relationship, why should I rush things!?!? And why am I limited to one!?!? Why is it called “The One”!? I don’t want just one when I could actually also have another one! Like…The Fuck kinda world do they live in!?!

And honestly it wasn’t just them who say this bullshit, a lot of people did and it just shattered my little heart. And also another thing…Gender Roles…Burn them to Hell…Since I am unfortunately AFAB I had a lot of problems growing up, some people told me that I couldn’t make a single mistake or I would be a disgrace on the Family. And they said I was too emotional because I was a girl. My mom however was always one to say “Fuck Gender Roles”, and she grew up in like the 80s-90s where Gender Roles were even worse! The more I think about it, the more I realize that my dad’s side of the family didn’t really like my mom and always judged her. They said she was a bad mother for letting me wear “Boy shirts” or letting us watch “Boy movies”. Like seriously, they judged her for something so stupid like that, also…I am pretty sure they thought something was wrong with her for being Neurodivergent too…

Not so fun fact, Guys, Gals, and Nonbinary Pals: Latino Families tend to be kind of toxic sometimes and some of them leave their family members behind if they “Weren’t perfect” which also included being Neurodivergent. For years, Autism has been misunderstood for so many things. People thought it meant that you were disabled which actually is not true at all! Autism is also not fucking caused by Vaccines either, that was proven to be false a LONG LONG time ago. And we are also not exactly the same, we have different symptoms, it’s a spectrum. Look at me and Lia, we’re both Autistic but we don’t really have the exact same symptoms. And yet we are just ignored, rejected, seen as burdens. My Tía Désirée even told me how people used to be annoyed with my mom and see her as an embarrassment when she was kid because she had Autism and ADHD like me. She also told me that people often tried finding reasons to get my Father to stop dating her and they would say “She’s Autistic” or “She’s not ladylike” or “People will judge you if you have a girlfriend who is taller than you” Luckily, my father never listened to them and told everyone to fuck off and that he loved her the way she was, awwww…

Whenever I feel bad, I remember how my mom used to tell me I didn’t need to be perfect. I would always hug her and just felt safer when she was around. And I would remember how she understood me because she went through the same thing as a kid and would tell me her experiences. I miss my mother still…I wish she were here so I could hug her again and listen to her talk…but in the end I know, she isn’t really gone as long as I remember her. Hearing my Tías and Tíos talk about her makes it seem like she’s there with us again. And I remember she wasn’t perfect either, she tried her best and it was enough, we all loved her anyway. She wasn’t perfect, my sisters aren’t perfect, nobody in the world is perfect, and neither am I. I am not Perfect and that’s okay!

[apostate-in-an-alcove]

A very important person in my life just died. (In India…I’m in Canada) When I was Catholic, I would say the rosary and pray and all that. But I’m not Catholic anymore and I don’t know what to do. Just sitting here makes me feel like a sociopath. I’m not gonna fake it by saying a prayer. What can I do instead?

This was something I had to grapple with when I was freshly out of the Church. Two family members (my grandfather and dog) had died in close proximity to each other last year and they were the first deaths I had to deal with as an atheist. Consequently, I had to rethink the way I see death and how I dealt with the passing of loved ones in previous years.

People respond to and deal with death differently so much of what I’m going to say is based off of my own experiences. I wasn't sure what to do myself and ended up watching a lot of atheists talk about their own perceptions of death and how they dealt with grieving. Keeping a loved one's ashes, making a garden or memorial in their honour, keeping their pictures out, or hanging onto an important piece of clothing are all different ways people can cope. Using a journal or pursuing a hobby are great ways to manage one's emotions, I know painting or video games have always been my go-to.

How I see it, we all have our chance to live on this planet and then that time inevitably comes to an end. The limited time we have makes life all the more precious, it makes the time we have with loved ones all the more valuable. But it makes the parting quite painful. Nonetheless, the time spent with loved ones, their little habits, the things they liked, the things you associate with them become precious memories and for me those memories are often what I draw comfort from. To think that in all of time and space, we got to meet and bond with the ones we hold dear is something so wonderful.

When I think of my grandfather I don't always think of him as a sickly old man with cancer. Rather, I think of his voice, I think of the jeans and plaid shirts he wore, I think of the baseball cap that was seldom seen off of his head, I think of the way his tall, lanky frame used to stomp around the house whilst humming. Likewise, when I think of my dog Lola I don't always think about how sick she had gotten. Rather, I think of her large expressive eyes and ears and how she always seemed alert, I think of how she loved warm milk, I think of the sound her claws made when she trotted to the door, I think of the time I put my scarf on her and how she pouted when I took it back from her.

I don’t know for sure what lies beyond the grave but what I do know is that there's no one easy way of dealing with death. But grieving is a process and you must be patient with yourself. I’m so sorry for your loss Anon, I hope what I said here may be of some comfort or assistance to you. 

[opbackgrounds]

Hi there Sarc' ;) I am sorry if the question has already been asked but I thought it could be interesting to have your opinion about this. While I love most of the female characters in OP and think that most of them are well developed and can be truly good role models for girls I still feel that Oda sometimes has a sexist view on female characters (the jokes about the naked bath scenes for example or Kororo being considered ugly make me really uncomfortable). What do you think about it?

Ah, I wondered when I would get this question. 

When people talk about sexism in One Piece they typically are referring to two different things: How women are drawn, and how they’re treated within the narrative. While there’s some overlap here, there’s enough distinction that I want to address them as two separate points in two separate posts, because I guess I had Opinions, and by god there should be a limit to how much text one tumblr post can be expected to hold. Consider this an introduction.

Buckle up, kiddos. This is gonna be a long one. 

Nami Face Syndrome Isn’t the Problem...

An important thing to remember with Oda’s art and storytelling style is that almost everything is hyper exaggerated for effect. You don’t go into One Piece looking for realism. You don’t go into One Piece expecting the characters to act like normal people. Everything--from the art to the humor to the battles--is stretched and pulled to its absolute limit in hopes of garnering a particular reaction. When a character is sad they cry big bubbly tears with dribbles of snot coming from their nose. When they laugh their mouths take up half their face. 

And when a girl is hot, her tiddies are two great big watermelons stuck to the center of her chest.

What is often dubbed “Nami Face Syndrome” within the fandom is somewhat misleading. After all, why was Wanda, who is a literal dog that walks on two legs, decried as yet another Nami clone at her introduction? I would postulate it’s less to do with her face and more to do with the fact that from the neck down they are virtually identical, something that’s made more obvious because Wanda is literally wearing Nami’s clothes

What makes this frustrating for a lot of people, myself included, is that it’s not that Oda is incapable of drawing more diverse body types, but that he often chooses not to. Take for example the Kuja tribe

or the Charlotte family daughters (thanks to Arthur at Library of Ohara for the resource). It’s pretty clear Oda has the chops to make his women as weird as the men, and he often does! For important characters, even. And yes, as the Kokoro example given above sometimes the gonkness is brought attention to, but for others like Lola and Chiffon it’s...not. 

(more on mermaids later)

But Sarcasticles, one might protest, even Oda’s “ugly” characters have ginormous boobs! Where is my itty bitty titty committee representation >:(

To which I can only shrug. For Oda, boobs on a woman are like abs on men. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense, they’re gonna have ‘em

Seriously, Oda. What the fuck.

...So What Is?

I have a theory that’s impossible to prove, and that the problem isn’t so much Oda’s character design so much as the ratio of his male to female characters in general. It’s not that every female character is a Nami clone, but Oda has a template he uses for attractive female characters ages 16-25, the same way he uses Robin as a template for attractive women ages 26-35, which is how you get cases of mistaken identity like Viola for Robin or scenes during Reverie where one could be forgiven for thinking Nami’s supposed to be an identical triplet

 Oda does this for his men, too. It’s not as obvious because 1) Even men with similar facial features can have a wider variety body types due to Oda having a sliding scale of buffness he’s willing to attach to a pretty face and 2) There are more men. 

There are a lot more men.

In groups where the male to female ratio is more or less equal (Baroque Works, Big Mom’s kids) you get a wide variety of designs. But there’s only one female Supernova. There’s one female Warlord. CP9 only has one female agent. Only one of the Revolutionary Commanders is a woman. There are very few female background characters in crowd shots, especially among marines. Big Mom might be the only female Emperor, but she’s not young, In fact, when drawing her at age 28, Oda defaults to a much more generic “pretty girl” face before giving her much more striking, memorable features in her 40s

If you look at Oda’s male characters, the ones that are supposed to be hot are often given the same square jawline and the thin-bladed nose that at one point in time was reserved for Robin. Both Coby and Sabo had very distinctive noses before their glowups, while Ace must have had a laser treatment done on his eyebrows sometime between Alabasta and Marineford. 

But the biggest difference on the men has got to be muscle mass. The overgrown noodles of early One Piece are lost to the annals of time. Shanks alone must have gained 30 pounds of pure muscle from the time Luffy got his first bounty to his appearance at Marineford. 

Now, I will acknowledge that there is a difference between the increasing sexualization of female characters and the male power fantasy of giving Zoro bara tiddies post-timeskip. While I do think there are certain male characters specifically designed to be the Hot Dude, what I’m trying to emphasize here is that Oda works with templates for both men and women, and both of those templates have been exaggerated over time. Bigger boobs for women, more muscles for men. And when you’re only slotting for one girl in any given group, and that one girl has to be The Hot One then you’re going to have a lot of ladies that end up looking the same. 

My love for Otohime on this blog is well known, and I want to use her as an example of what Oda can do when he works beyond this template, because it’s really freaking good  

Otohime is neither conventionally attractive nor gonk. She’s dressed in very conservative, traditional clothing and has a narrow waist and small chest. 

There are no sharp edges on Otohime. Not her eyebrows, not her jaw, and most of the time not even her hands, emphasizing her gentle nature. You don’t see it as well in this panel, but Otohime’s head is often drawn wider than her shoulders, emphasizing her frailty. Oda gives her a longer neck to compensate, and the overall effect is a very soft, willowy figure. 

Her headpiece looks like a sunburst. The audience never sees her fins, so Oda gives her a scale patterned kimono-dress-thingy (my knowledge of Japanese clothing is, uh, not good) as a visual reminder that she’s not human. The sash that circles around her head harkens back to Japanese mythology as a symbol of divinity, similar to a halo in Western culture. And fun fact: Otohime is named after a god, just like Neptune, while her goals and ideals are pure enough to be heaven-sent. 

I’m not an artist, but this is a really damn good character design. A lot of Oda’s older female characters are. Dandan, Tsuru, O-Tsuru, Shakky, Kureha, Big Mom, and Nyon are all instantly recognizable and have strong designs, even if a few of them fall into the hourglass figure that Oda often defaults to. It’s just...there aren’t that many of them.

So the question becomes why aren’t there more women, and I think the answer is because, ultimately, One Piece is a series geared at boys. While I wish there were a few more important ladies, I can understand why there aren’t. 

Note, that doesn’t mean I think it’s right or that Oda is obligated to include more women. It’s just one of the facts of the shonen manga industry at this point in time. 

A more important question, I think, is why does every younger woman have to be attractive? And why do the attractive ladies have to wear outfits that are blatant fanservice? This is something I don’t have an answer for. Oda has said on more than one occasion that he writes One Piece with his twelve year old self in mind. It could be that it’s a calculated move to appeal to his audience, in which case it’s certainly worked because said Hot Ladies are constantly used in marketing and merchandising. It’s the Hot Ladies that top the popularity charts (although, to be fair, who’s there for competition?). In the most recent chapter a new Hot Lady was introduced, and the fandom went batshit crazy for her.

Even the fans who are very vocal about how Oda sucks at drawing women. It’s interesting how that works out sometimes.

Or maybe I’m giving Oda too much credit, and he’s just horny. Not having direct access to Oda’s mind, I don’t have an answer. If I had to guess I’d say it’s a little of Column A, a little of Column B, because that’s usually how life is. 

But in a vacuum big tiddies are just a design choice. An exaggerated aesthetic, in a series full of exaggerated aesthetics. It’s when that design choice is paired with in-story comments, actions, and decisions where things really start to get heated. But that’s a whole other ball of wax, and there should be a limit to how much one tumblr post can be expected to hold. I promise I’ll get to the meat of your question next time.

Thank you so much for your patience. I really do think it’s important to start here before diving into everything else, if only because it helps keep my thoughts organized. I hope you’ve found this helpful, and if not, I hope to do better next time. 

[peaches-writes]

hwang’s guide to gardening

description: your neighbor, hyunjin, is a gardening novice trying to grow flowers and vegetables on their balcony for the summer member: hyunjin  genre: fluff, summer au, neighbor au word count: 3.4k  warnings: use of the word cuttings (but they’re used for leaves!) note: i’m not a plant expert my plants just died from the heat and typhoon and i miss gardening so i’m channeling my plant baby fever into writing. also, my writing’s rusty. 

It’s day 12 of Hyunjin tending to his mini garden of flowers and herbs, some of which he bought from an Instagram store with an aesthetic feed and questionable pricing. So far so good, he thinks to himself as he carefully waters the lilies and vegetables lined across the small expanse of the dorm balcony—of the 6 clay pots, no one’s threatening death yet. “By this Saturday, some of you might just be in our movie night pasta.” He reminds his pot of basil leaves. “I don’t know if I can tell you that.” 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to.” Seungmin agrees as he passes by the open clear sliding door, on the way to set up breakfast with Felix. “There are studies of plants dying because they get badmouthed.” 

 Panic briefly sets on Hyunjin’s face and his first instinct is to give the basil leaves extra drops of water. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—wait, I cursed, is that bad? I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” 

Behind him, Seungmin and Felix laugh. 

“If you’re done with your plants, breakfast is ready.” Seungmin calls for him. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Hyunjin nods absentmindedly as he moves along to his 4 other plants. “Here you go, babies, grow well, please.”

Hyunjin continues watering and tending to his other plants, making sure to whisper encouraging words now with the new gardening tip from Seungmin. He works in silence for a while, until, on the window right on the adjacent fire escape, you then appear, the usual trays of succulents in hand—9:10 AM on the dot as he has observed for the past almost 2 weeks.

“Hey, Hyunjin.” You greet when Hyunjin turns to your direction to water his 2 pots of lilies. You sometimes go out to sit on the fire escape but on most days, like today, you settle for reaching for everything from your window. “Any progress on the radishes?” 

Hyunjin takes a brief glance on his pot of radishes as you set down your succulents on the damp fire escape then reports, “They’re growing alright.” He then gestures over to a tray of succulent lead cuttings you’ve laid out nearest to the edge of the fire escape, where it can get the most sun. “What are those for?” 

“These? I’ve been drying them for a few days before planting them so I can grow more succulents.” You answer as if you’ve just made a new discovery. “If they’re successful, I might consider selling them.” 

“How long does it take to grow?” “Around a month? I just looked this up on YouTube the other day.”

Hyunjin nods understandingly. Though you’ve had a habit of tending to plants longer than he has (even before you moved in the building with your roommate, he recalls), succulents were a new venture for you—at least from the sporadic small talks you’ve had over the window so far. “Can I do that to my plants?” 

“Depends on the plant, you should look it up.” You briefly survey his garden with the limited view you have from your window. “I think you can definitely cut the basil stems.” 

“Really?” You nod with a hum, having previously taken care of basil leaves yourself. “Huh, that wasn’t on the instructions I got from the store.” 

“Cut some leaves up to the stem then put them in water until they grow roots, from what I remember, that should do the trick.” You advice, finally done with putting all of your succulent trays outside after a long night of rain. Faintly, Hyunjin then hears your roommate call for you from inside your own apartment as she does on most mornings. “Okay, I gotta go, Jisoo’s calling for me.” 

“Alright, see you.” Hyunjin waves goodbye to you with a smile as you back away from the window, already done with tending to his own garden as well. 

Once you’re out of sight, Hyunjin also stands up from squatting around his balcony for the past 5 minutes, stretching his arms and legs then returning back inside the apartment. 

And that’s how most of his mornings have been since he began gardening.  

 “You’re all smiley.” Jisung immediately notes teasingly, alone on the dinner table when Hyunjin steps into the kitchen while everyone else who’s finished breakfast have returned to their own rooms. At that, Hyunjin is suddenly aware of the dazed smile he wears. “Did you see Y/N out again?”

 “Yes but it’s not because I saw them that I’m all smiley!” Hyunjin quickly defends himself, making a beeline to the refrigerator to retrieve juice. “I just got a lot of gardening tips today, that’s all.” 

“Sure, whatever you say.” Jisung chuckles, turning his attention back to the video he’s watching on his phone.

Two days later, Hyunjin goes to his balcony garden to see you already seated on the fire escape, a rectangular pot on your lap where you strategically place the succulent cuttings you’ve been drying. At the faint rustling of his pajamas, you immediately look up from your work to greet him with a simple wave. “They’re ready to go.” You proudly tilt the pot towards his direction in such a way that the cuttings don’t move. 

“You’re not going to bury them on the soil?” Is the first question Hyunjin asks as he squats down on the ground and picks up his watering can. 

“If I do, they’ll rot.” You pick up a stem cutting from their drying tray, showing him the dried up opening. “This is where the plant will grow after a few days of keeping them inside and occasionally watering them, it’s the side that used to stick on the mom plant.” 

“And when they fully grow?” “Then I’ll bury them on the soil and they’ll be new life!”

You see genuine fascination on his face so you say, “Amazing, ‘no?” 

“And it’ll be this way for a month—it sounds hard.” He muses, proceeding to water his plants. He thinks of his own lilies, growing, yes, but painstakingly slow in his eyes since it’s the first time he’s growing them. 

“It is—it’s quite the bargain.” You agree with a nod. “But I’ll be the happiest person ever if a lot of them sprout.” 

Despite only knowing you the mostly from your small conversations every morning, Hyunjin thinks he likes you the best when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about. “I’m sure they’ll grow, you take care of them well.” 

“Don’t flatter me.” You manage a chuckle. “Still, I worry since it’s not the same as the other plants I have back home. These are a bit unconventional, to say the least.” 

“Nah, I really believe you’ll do well raising them.” He persists. “Just trust the process.” 

You nod through your work, a smile unconsciously forming on your lips at the encouragement. “Tell you what? I’ll give you one for free if at least half of these live.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, so you can have more variety on your garden.” You answer. “And you can tell your 2,000 Instagram followers about my new summer business.”

Hyunjin chuckles at the thought, though seriously contemplating it. “I’ll trade you with these lilies if you want.” He offers, suddenly confident of the lilies he’s been worrying about. 

"Oh? Don’t you want to save them for someone special?” 

Hyunjin is immediately flustered by this. “N-No? There’s no one special lately.” 

You raise an eyebrow, questioningly at him. “Really? I thought you’d be the type.” 

Hyunjin is quite popular in school, you think to yourself. A month ago, back when you still had classes, you remember how Hyunjin’s often the talk of your classmates in a lot of general classes. 

He shrugs, though somehow it makes him feel iffy to say what he just said along with, “I just wanted to try growing flowers.” 

Glancing briefly at you from his pot of basil leaves, you seem unfazed by his flushed cheeks, “Well, eventually the lilies might die since they’re seasonal. You might want to consider giving them to someone at least—maybe your mom or Kkami, I don’t know.” You suggest. “You’re growing them really well, too, it’d be a shame if you didn’t show them to other people.” 

You remember how his roommates teased him when he got the seeds and planting kit in the mail so you made sure to mention his mom (whom you’ve only met once when students were leaving for the holidays) and his dog (who got lost once in the rooftop while you were drying clothes). 

“Aw, but I’ll miss them.” “Don’t worry, I think you can grow the bulbs.” 

“Really?” You hum in yes. “I’ll look that up later.” 

Naturally, you then continue to work in silence until you finished your work earlier and bid him goodbye—a rare occurrence since he usually leaves first. 

When you leave, Hyunjin immediately whips out his phone and searches how to propagate lilies. 

It’s day 22, Felix has started to pester Hyunjin on when his basil leaves will grow again for another bowl of movie night pasta, and his lilies are almost ready to bloom, reaching up almost to his thighs. They’re pink Asiatic lilies, a pop of color amidst all the green leaves and dull shades of root crops, but lately, he’s more fascinated with how you’ve been growing your succulents that seem to grow agonizingly slow, especially since you keep them inside throughout the day rather than let them bask in full sun like your other grown succulents. 

“They’re echevaria lolas.” You stumble over the pronunciation this particular morning, letting them sit outside for the fresh morning air and faint sunlight before the sun fully drenches your side of the building later in the afternoon. “The mom looked like a lotus so eventually they’ll look like lotuses too.”

“Everyone good so far?” Hyunjin asks while googling how to propagate radishes for later. 

“There were some two or three who’ve died, unfortunately.” You frown, showing him the barely noticeable empty spaces on your pot. “But it’s okay, I guess, since I have a lot more.” 

“How do you know if they’ve died?” “They wrinkle or turn purple.” 

“Oh, sorry.” He frowns too which you stifle a giggle at knowing he’s starting to care really deeply for plant life. 

“It’s cool.” You shrug. “That’s just how it is.” 

You also show him how hints of roots and stems are now growing on some of your leaf cuttings, the biggest smile on your face he’s ever seen in the short time you’ve been neighbors so far. 

“I’ll give you this one.” You point to the biggest leave with the biggest progress in the group. “I predict that by next week it’ll have a center already or maybe even its own new leaf!” 

“Ah, you don’t have to!” He insists, waving his hand dismissively. “What if it’s the prettiest? Then everyone would want to buy it when you sell them.” 

“If it’s the prettiest, then it better end up on your garden so that I’ll know it’ll fully grow prettily.” You counter. 

Though you said it casually, Hyunjin swore to Jeongin later on that he felt that he almost fainted in front of you then—out of the small crush he’s harbored over you the entire summer or honor of you entrusting one of your plants to him, he’s not quite sure. 

“I think Y/N’s nice.” Jeongin comments. “And I think you have a crush.” 

On the cloudy afternoon of day 28, Hyunjin jogs down to the building’s lobby to retrieve his package of new clay pots and seeds. They’re smaller compared to the ones he bought last time since they’ll only be housing a new batch of root crops (after Felix hoarded almost all of his radishes and basil leaves last week). Arriving at the building front door to meet the delivery man, he sees you coming home from your summer job at the ice cream parlor on the next block. 

“Hey.” He greets you, feeling a bit weird since you’re not upstairs on the fire escape. “How was work?” 

The delivery man leaves after Hyunjin pays, making way for you as you climb up the steps to the front door. “It was okay, not a lot of people since it’s been raining lately.” You shrug off your raincoat and close your umbrella before stepping inside, walking next to Hyunjin as you both climb up the stairs to your respective apartments on the 4th floor. 

Hyunjin also hasn’t seen you lately since it started raining, forcing you to keep your succulents inside and leaving only some of your leaves to stay outside the whole day. “And how are the leaf cuttings?” 

“They’re okay.” You answer. “They all have roots now!” 

“That’s...that’s good to hear.” He comments awkwardly, suddenly finding it difficult to talk about anything. After all, it’s one of the rare times he’s seen you outside your place. 

Luckily, you pick up the conversation from him. “How about you? It’s been almost a month, are the lilies blooming yet?” 

At this, Hyunjin visibly frowns from the corner of your eye. “They’re growing taller but they’re not blooming yet.” 

“Maybe they just need more time.” You console him, finally reaching the 4th floor. “Plants don’t care much about exact dates and times but they’ll grow eventually.” 

You glance over at Hyunjin as he walks further to his dormitory’s door adjacent yours. He turns to your direction before going inside, his frown now a small smile. “I hope so, thanks.”

You nod. “No problem.” You smile at him before blurting out, “I believe in you, if-if that helps.”

When you do check his balcony later on that day, you see his lilies have grown significantly taller since the last time you went out on your fire escape but as he said, they haven’t even bloomed yet. 

Hyunjin’s lilies bloom on day 32 which is day 18 of your leaf cuttings. You went out to your fire escape earlier than usual on this particular morning so that your succulents can get a lot of sun after a few days of rain. 

“Congratulations!” Hyunjin comes out to his balcony with your proud exclaim and he immediately turns to your direction where his lilies also are in his line of vision, fully-bloomed. “Congrats on your first flowers!” 

“Thanks.” He shyly grins from ear to ear, kneeling in front of his flowers to observe them. 

“They’re really pretty.” You comment. “You raised them well.” 

At the compliment, he blushes. “Do you want some?” Hyunjin looks up to you and this time, you’re the one who’s flustered. “I can cut up a few.” 

“What? No, I’m cool, thanks.” You shrug off the rising heat on your face. “I don’t have vases that match the flowers, anyway.” 

At this point, both of you (albeit unknowingly) think that your excuses are getting more and more ridiculous but Hyunjin seems to just accept it and say, “I’ll go get Felix and Seungmin! They need to see this.” 

“Go get Chan too, it looks like he hasn’t seen the light of day since summer started.” You chuckle, remembering how you haven’t seen the oldest boy in their apartment much since summer started. 

“Yeah, good idea.” Hyunjin hurries inside, calling to his roommates eating breakfast. 

After a while, as you were preparing to go back inside your own apartment, all seven of Hyunjin’s roommates cramp into the small balcony, all in different expressions of surprise at the flowers. 

“Woah, they’re so pretty!” You hear Felix comment under his breath. 

“Hyung, can I get some?” Jeongin asks to which Hyunjin jokingly replies, “You have to pay for them!” 

You greet the boys from your space on the fire escape and they greet you back with knowing smiles to which Hyunjin elbows Jisung who stands nearest to him. “Yah.” 

“What? Can’t I greet Y/N?” Jisung whispers loudly. 

“You have that weird look!” “What weird look?” 

Luckily, you were already inside since Jisoo called on you again before Jisung told everyone of Hyunjin’s little crush. 

“Ooh, what if you give some of these to Y/N next-door?” Minho suggests. 

“They said they’re ok with not getting some of them.” Hyunjin answers. “I’m planning to send some to my mom and dad.” 

“Hyunjin, even when they say they don’t want flowers, you should still give them flowers.” Changbin insists matter-of-factly. 

“Ah, I have a better idea!” Chan exclaims. 

You come home from work on day 34 and come across Hyunjin by the entrance of your building again, this time getting off a taxi, probably from his parent’s place given the two coolers of frozen meat and kimchi he was taking juggling in his hands that always signifies that his mom bought food for everyone in Hyunjin’s apartment. When the taxi drives away and you manage to walk faster to get to him, he greets you with a grin, “Hey, Y/N.” 

You nod and wave hello. “Back from your parents’ place?” 

“Yeah, I delivered flowers.” His smile grows wider. “My mom liked them, especially.” 

“Oh, that’s good to know.” You return his smile. “Do you need help?” 

But he shakes his head at your offer. “No, I’m good. Come on, I have something for you.” 

You look at him suspiciously as you open the building entrance for him but decided on humoring him and agreeing, “Sure.” 

You climb up the stairs in almost complete silence. You ask him briefly about his short trip to the other side of the city and he tells you about how Kkami has been since you last saw the dog. You almost missed how he answers rather curtly and nervously, as if he’s hiding something. 

“Oh, right, wait here!” He suddenly stops you from proceeding to your apartment when you arrive on the 4th floor, sprinting to his before you could even utter a word. 

You stand alone in the hallway for a short while, until Hyunjin re-emerges from his apartment with a medium-sized pot in his hands. “Ta-da!” He holds it up to your eye-level for you to clearly see the label written in his careful handwriting, lily bulbs. “You said you didn’t want the flowers but you didn’t say that you didn’t want bulbs.” 

“Hyunjin—” He thrusts the plant pot in your hands happily, a little proud that he’s got you flustered again. 

“I just want to say thank you for helping me grow my garden this past month.” He insists before quietly adding, “And Chan may or may not also have mentioned that it’s more romantic if I gave you something to grow yourself rather than give you a flower right away since you’re the plant expert.” 

“Huh? Romantic?” You can’t help but smile at the choice of word. 

“Y-Yeah.” He agrees with a small nod. Now he’s equally flustered, even more when he unintentionally blurts out next, “Maybe by the time they grow their own bulbs to plant, we’re already on our 100th day.” 

At that, you finally break into laughter, making Hyunjin laugh as well, albeit more nervously. “What? What 100th day?” You visibly cringe in front of him but with good intentions. 

“I’m trying my best here!” 

“Are you perhaps asking me out?” Surprisingly, he nods slowly in yes, momentarily stunning you.  

A beat of silence passes by that Hyunjin starts preparing himself to pass your conversation off as a joke. 

“Listen—” But before he could even get another word out, you beat him to it.   

“Okay, I’ll take it—cheesy line and all.” You interject, taking a step back to your apartment. “Let me just go get you something in exchange.” 

“You don’t have to.” But you ignore him, proceeding by saying, “No, I insist! Meet me at the back.” 

When he does meet you at the back, on his balcony, you pass him one of your leaf cuttings from the fire escape, the one you pointed at him from before except now it’s grown into the smallest flower with barely enough leaves to form 1 ring of leaves resembling petals. “’Maybe when it’s big enough to look like a flower, it’ll already be our 100th day.” You tease him, earning you a ‘yah!’ from him that just makes you laugh harder than a while back. “Just keep it on a pot with lots of rocks and good drainage, spritz it with water every few days, and keep it away from direct sunlight until it grows into a full succulent.” 

“I—” “It means yes, Hyunjin, I’ll go out with you.”

“R-really?” His eyes grow big, not really expecting that you’d agree. 

“Yeah, just make sure to take care of the leaf cutting I gave you! It’s the prettiest among my plant babies!” For the first time since the two of you crossed paths today, Hyunjin finally lets go of the breath he’s been holding at your words. “And less cheesy lines, please.” 

“Okay noted.”

Hyunjin’s leaf cutting starts growing into a proper succulent on day 70 of tending to his mini garden of flowers and herbs. The lily bulb he gave you has already sprouted as well. It’s not your 100th day yet as you predicted then but you’re still going out on dates (with less cheesy lines now) and googling how to propagate more plants. 

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

U N P L A N N E D, part four

Knowing what Harry wanted was a relief. It made you sleep better, even that first night after you drove home and reported back to Lexi over dinner. 

Sure--the stakes were now higher in a sense, right? You were going through with it. Something about that felt completely surreal and still somehow impossible, but deep inside of you, buried beneath the fear and the doubt, was a tiny speck of hope. And it was decidedly apple-seed shaped. 

When you were five or six, you insisted on pushing your dolls around in a carriage, so much so that you refused one day to go to kindergarten without them. Your mother had you all buckled in the car, your doll beside you and the toy-sized stroller folded in the trunk. 

It had always been something you wanted, something you saw in your future--but you’d always thought that it would be in a different order. In fleeting moments, when you made your peace with that, the hope managed to fight it’s way through all of the other feelings, letting you know that it was there and real and maybe things would work out okay. 

The reality was this: you were pregnant. You’d decided that you were going to have the baby. Harry seemed involved enough at this stage, and frankly, you were fine enough for now to just push any other thought out of your head. 

Where would you live? Where would he live? How often would he see the baby? Would you even have full custody or were you making a terrible assumption? Would he be on tour when you went into labor?

There were a thousand questions that tried to keep you up at night, but apparently growing a human took enough out of you that you fell asleep easily these days. And Harry had warned you it was coming--a quick text to give you a heads up. 

310-324-9090 (8:24am): Spoke with Jeff some more last night after I got home. He thinks it’s best if we have a meeting with some of my team. Can you call me later and I’ll give you some details?

You did as he asked--stepped out on your lunch break and spoke to him in the courtyard, careful to keep your voice quiet. 

It wasn’t that people at work were nosy--it was more that a random Facebook employee getting knocked up by a famous musician was sure to be a good headline that someone would be killing to write if they got wind. So for now, you tried your best to speak in code. 

“They want to have a meeting. Just to talk about some logistics and privacy things and whatnot.” He made it sound so casual.

“The logistics of the current situation?” 

He sounded a bit confused. “Of you being pregnant with my baby--yes.”

“This feels like something I would need a lawyer for.”

“You don’t need a lawyer.”

“Aren’t you the opposing side? Isn’t this going to become some weird negotiation around what I can and can’t do with your--you know.”

“I don’t know…”

“Your baby,” you whispered the word quietly, a hand over your mouth to be safe. “Who is mine, too, by the way.”

“Y/N--this is just a meeting, okay? There’s a few things for you to sign--basically just saying that you’re not going to sue me or try to blackmail me.”

Glenne had mentioned that. She threw back another margarita that night in your kitchen and said you’d have to sign an NDA. It’s just something a bunch of people sign, confidentiality, basically. You’ll be fine.

It made sense. Jeff wanted to be sure you wouldn’t sell your story or try to cash in on the undoubtedly pricey offspring you were producing--that’s what Lexi had joked about. Can you imagine how much someone would pay for his baby? 

You reminded her that it was yours, too. She threw her head back and laughed, yeah, but his DNA would make it more expensive--like a purebred. 

And this was the easy phase, after all--that’s what your mom had told you on the phone when you told her you’d be keeping it. Things were still normal. You weren’t showing, you had no symptoms. Other than the apple-seed growth in your uterus, everything was still completely normal. For now. 

You agreed to meet Harry on Saturday afternoon--some office building in Westwood that felt eerily empty on the weekend. Hallways that all looked the same, meeting rooms and conference tables stared back at you. 

He’d met you in the lobby, offered a quick hug when you walked in from the fresh air. He took you up in an elevator, fourth floor, second room down on the left. 

Jeff was inside with a few others, a small smile when you walked in behind Harry, clad in a graphic tee. 

“Hey,” he said, standing and rounding the table to give you a hug. “How are you feeling?”

You could hear the guilt that laced his voice. “Good--I’m fine.”

“I’m, uh--I’m sorry about the other night. I was just--you know, kind of freaked.”

Harry let out a quick laugh, sarcasm threaded through his words. “We were doing totally fine--not freaked out at all.”

Jeff rolled his eyes, sat back down and introduced you to the other faces in the room. Lola, Harry’s publicist, John, a PR guy from his label, Dave, a lawyer. His assistant, Emma, a small smile on her face when you made eye contact. 

You turned to Harry quickly--he sat on the other side of the table beside Jeff, fumbled with the top of his water bottle. He said you didn’t need a lawyer--but for some reason, he had one.

That’s when the anxiety kicked in--the swirling questions of what they all thought. They offered smiles when Jeff began talking and you did your best to wipe the sweat from your hands every few seconds on your pants. 

“So--obviously, this is big news for everyone here--uh, we wanted to have this meeting, really, to just get a few things agreed upon.”

You nodded, watched Harry for a second until he looked at you. 

Dave spoke now--black rimmed glasses sat atop his nose. You wondered what his life was like. A lawyer for top musicians? He probably drove a Tesla, too.“We have to have you sign something, Y/N--just saying that you won’t discuss any of this with the press. It includes no social media posting, no interviews, limited disclosure to friends and family.” 

Another nod--that was a given, and it seemed to be for your own protection, too. Lexi had brought it up first. What happens when people find out he’s the father?

“We don’t expect you to hide the pregnancy altogether--to be clear. But for now, the parentage needs to be confidential.”

“Okay,” you said. “But not like, with everyone, right?” Maybe it was a dumb question. “I already told my mom.”

“No--your mom is fine.” Harry answered the question for them, which is when you realized that you were the only one on your side of the table. They sat in a line, the five of them elbow to elbow, their team and against yours. 

The only problem was that right now, no one was on your team. 

“How much did you tell her?” Dave’s head tilted like you’d said the wrong thing.

“Just a little--she knows it’s his,” your eyes went back up to Harry’s now. He held your gaze for a minute, looked over to Dave and cleared his throat. 

“That’s fine,” Harry said.

The look on Dave’s face told you otherwise. “We need to keep the number of people who know to a minimum.”

“Well I certainly don’t expect her to not tell her mother,” Harry retorted, anger more present in his voice than before. You shrunk in your chair, feeling incredibly isolated as they sat across from you.

“Who does know?” Jeff leaned in, hoping to ease the tension between Harry and Dave--a welcome distraction when he looked towards you.

“Aside from people in this room, my mom, Lexi, Glenne--and my doctor, but, I think she’ll be fine.”

Dave started writing on the notepad in front of him. “I can draw up non-disclosures for them, too.”

Emma sipped at her water--you peered past her out the window. It was sunny--a good day for anything but this. 

“So--we can move to the financial aspect,” Dave put his pen down and thumbed through some papers. “I know this is always the worst part, but--has to be done.”

You looked around the room, still feeling a step behind the others, confused. You watched as Harry twisted his hands together, stared down at them on the table. It felt like no one even wanted to make eye contact with you, like you were somehow wearing a scarlet letter. 

“This agreement details the child support he’ll pay. Monthly until the child turns eighteen. Visiting rights, partial custody if he so chooses. If you sign, it means you agree to the terms and conditions and will hereby agree to share custody, barring any legal changes, of course. Anything you don’t agree to will be settled in arbitration, along with any changes to the agreements set forth here.”

He pushed a packet across the table, the paper was crisp and thick, stapled in the top left corner. 

You looked up at him. “Do I get time to read it over?”

“Of course,” Jeff spoke quickly. “We’ll need it either way by Monday. 

You tried not to roll your eyes. A whole two days. You swallowed, nodded, ignored the pen that Dave flipped over in his hand, apparently hoping you’d agree to sign now. 

“We also have this,” he said, lifting another packet of papers from the stack in front of him. “We’d like a paternity test. This can be completed after seven weeks gestation. The previous agreements and contracts will become null and void if the paternity test proves Mr. Styles is not the father. That’s all detailed in here, though.”

There was a heat on your cheeks, one that felt like it threatened to bring tears. You stared down at the paper already in front of you, words like custodial and proprietary suddenly left your mouth feeling dry.

You didn’t have a chance to respond, Dave slid more papers towards you, this time the pen came with them. “We need you to sign the agreement to DNA testing for paternity confirmation and the basic non-disclosure today.”

You looked up at Harry--he watched as Dave fumbled through more papers, seeing if there was another dotted line for you to put your name on. Jeff stared at the glass of water in front of him, avoiding your gaze like you weren’t his friend, someone who came to his birthday parties or texted memes to his girlfriend.

“I need a minute,” you said, voice hoarse and unsteady. You pushed back from the table, turned and headed for the door without a response from anyone in the room. 

“You can have time with the other documents, it’s just the paternity testing we need signed,” Dave’s voice faded when you got to the hallway, you counted the stripes on the carpet as you put more distance between you and your side of the conference table. The hallways were a maze, more rooms and tables and rolling office chairs that didn’t help calm your nerves. 

There were footsteps behind yours--Harry’s, no doubt--but you kept moving, the end of the hallway was in sight, a door to a balcony, fresh air, a moment to breathe. 

He was right behind you when you pushed it open, the cool metal of the door was prickly on your skin, hot and flushed. You squinted in the sun, he was quiet for a moment, the door shut. 

“M’sorry,” he said after a second. You looked down at the cars that were parked on the streets below, people on sidewalks, a breeze from the ocean. “We have to do that--they’d never just believe it was mine without the actual proof.”

You turned around to face him. “Feels kind of shitty, though. They’ll think I’m lying until I can prove that I’m not.��

He rolled his eyes a bit. “Well people lie, Y/N! You might not be crazy but people out there are--so we have to just, I don’t know, they have to take precautions.”

“This isn’t just happening to you, Harry! I know that’s all that they care about--all that Jeff cares about right now--but this is happening to me, too! This is changing my life, too. You’re not the only one with a career and a family and a life.”

“I know!” He said, looking up to the sky as if it were the hundredth time you said it. “I know it is--I’m doing the best I can, okay? I need to know for sure that it’s mine, too, okay? I trust you, I do--but I have to know for sure.”

“Right--cause somehow this is my fault and it all falls on me at the end of the day, right?”

“I never said that,” he said, more hushed now.

“Well, this is on you, too. You’re the father and if I have to take a fucking paternity test I will but--you’re the only person I’ve slept with in the last, like, year.”

His eyes went a bit wide at that--you let out an annoyed laugh and turned back to the view, wishing you were home, beneath the tree in your mom’s backyard in Santa Paula. A good book and a sense of calm, something that felt all too fleeting these days. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

You tried to ignore the smirk on his face, crossed your arms over your chest when you turned back to see him again. “So--there’s literally no chance it’s anyone else’s.”

He nodded, the corner of his mouth still lifted toward the sky. 

“What? What are you smiling for?”

“Dunno,” he laughed a little. “Just--I kind of thought you left that night because you were seeing someone or something like that.”

“What? No--I haven’t--I had a boyfriend a while ago but we broke up.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

He shrugged, dropped your gaze for a moment. “Well, when I met you in the fall at that dinner--I don’t know, I asked Glenne about you and she said you were kind of,” he glanced back up at you, “unavailable. Or, you were dealing with something. So I figured when you left and never called it just--had to do with him.” 

You thought back to that first night in October, long before the sex and the sneaking out. Sushi and drinks and butterflies when he walked in to the restaurant. You always knew that they knew him--heard his name and heard his songs on the radio. You’d seen him from afar once, a party at Jeff’s old house, you were on your way out when he strolled in, sometime in 2017, hugging other people and shaking hands with beautiful women. You never even thought he noticed you until you found yourself drunk on his couch two years later.

You knew why Glenne said it. You’d ended a relationship in the spring of 2018 and it took you all summer to even want to go out again. Lexi would beg and plead and apparently, a celebration in Glenne’s honor was what it took in the fall for you to finally put on a pair of heels and have a few drinks. 

“I wasn’t unavailable--I just--I don’t know, her and Lexi can be protective.”

He nodded, quiet for a minute when he looked out over the hills in the distance. 

Your break up was tough, not so much about losing him, but losing the vision you had. There were plenty of red flags--so big that even Lexi could pick up on them. But you brushed it off, pretended like it didn’t matter that he was unreliable and immature. When you finally had enough, you were more upset about the fact that it threw you off course. 

What am I supposed to do, now? You’d asked Lexi in the living room, crying on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. How am I supposed to get married at 27 and have a baby at 29 if he’s not the one?

He wasn’t--he was far from it. Lexi poured more wine and said she’d order you a vibrator on Amazon. He’s a fucking dickface, dude, you’ll meet someone else. And fuck that timeline. It’s bullshit. 

Maybe it was a gust of wind or the thoughts of how terribly off track this put you, more tears in your eyes when you sighed. 

“I’m sorry you have to sign all this shit.”

You bit at your lip, a tiny thud in your chest when his eyes met yours. 

“S’not how it should typically be and that’s because of me--or my job, at least.”

You nodded. He was right. If this was anyone else it’d be a lot easier. A lot less paperwork, a lot less questions. 

“Do you want to go get dinner?”

“Right now?”

“Well,” he looked over his shoulder--Jeff was down the hall, his figure blurred through the glass. “You probably have to sign at least the NDA if you want them to let you out of the building. But--after that.”

You took a deep breath, wishing you could ignore the guilt that sat on your shoulders. He shouldn’t have spend time with you. You didn’t want him to feel tied down, trapped, you didn’t want to be the ball and chain that would inevitably be blamed for changing his life and ruining his career. 

“No, no, we don’t have to, I should go home.”

“It’s Saturday,” he said. “What do you have to do?”

You didn’t expect his question--or pushback at all, really. “I have to clean. I have to organize stuff.”

“Stuff?” A smirk on his face told you he was on to you. 

“You don’t have to take me to dinner. We don’t have to pretend like we’re friends.”

He watched you for a second, his eyes scanning your face as if he didn’t know what to say. He pushed his lips out in thought and then scratched at the back of his neck. 

“Am I at least allowed to get to know you? If you’re having my baby--if we’re doing this--you’re kind of stuck with me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you tried to backtrack. 

“However you meant it--I still want to take you to dinner.”

“Fine,” you said, heat on your cheeks when he smiled, eyes crinkling by the side. “But I have some things to sign first.”

“Right,” he nodded, a stifled laugh under his breath. He turned around and grabbed the door, gesturing for you to head back inside. “After you.”

**

Another burger, this time, hold the pickles. He teased you at the drive through window that you’d be keeping them in business alone for the next nine months, you parked this time near a beach north of Santa Monica. 

“You said I didn’t need a lawyer,” you didn’t look at him, focused instead on the half-eaten burger in your hands before you took another bite. “Feels like I do.”

He looked over at you and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I mean--I didn’t want to freak you out. You don’t need one. You could have someone read over the papers for you. Do you have one?”

You racked through your brain. Maybe Simone would be your best bet, you could bring them into work on Monday and let her give it a read, but, then again, there was no way Dave and Jeff would let you tell another person before the paternity test results came in. 

You shook your head. “Lexi watches a lot of Law & Order.”

He stifled a laugh, sipped from his soda and adjusted the dark sunglasses perched on his nose. “I don’t think she counts, love, sorry.”

You picked up your own drink and took a swig, ignoring the fluttering in your stomach when he smiled down at you. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I can, uh, I can have Jeff find someone--not Dave--who can read them and you can meet with them, maybe. Go over it all and make sure it makes sense.”

You nodded, a feeling of gratitude swept through you. You offered a small smile of appreciation, another bite of your burger before Harry let out a laugh. 

“See? M’not the enemy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t push it.”

“Hey, I mean it,” he turned towards you now, the sleeve of french fries on his lap shifted, one fell down to the clean carpet of his car. “I know they’re requiring the test, but, I trust you. And we’re in this together.”

You crumpled up the garbage of your dinner, tossed it in the bag that sat by your feet, suddenly too nervous to sit so close to him in the confines of his car. “Let’s take a walk,” you said, unsure of how to respond to his words. It was hard to believe him, he pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and walked beside you towards the beach, another stark reminder of the difference between your life and his. 

It was obvious again, when the teenager behind the ice cream window at a beach front shop begged for a photo. You took it and prayed she didn’t even remember that you were with him. Hopefully the adrenaline in her system would wipe your face from her memory. 

“This is the most beautiful ice cream cone I’ve ever gotten,” he said, sitting on the bench of a picnic table a decent ways away from the counter where you’d ordered. He twirled it around, inspecting it from all angles when you pulled the straw of your milkshake up to your lips. 

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen one before,” you teased, reaching for a napkin from his other hand. 

“S’just so perfect looking.” He reached for his phone, lifted his dessert up in front of the setting sun that sprawled over the ocean’s horizon. “Wow--do you see this?” He clicked the button on his phone, his thumb successfully capturing the moment.

You rolled your eyes, took a quick peek around to make sure no one was nearby. He’d already warned you that he couldn’t stay long. Typically only 30 minutes after you take a photo with someone, otherwise people start to show up. 

“I’m sending this to you,” he laughed. “I understand if you want it framed or just as reminder of this beautiful evening.”

He pressed a few buttons and then your screen lit up on the bench in between you. 

He peered down at it, then brought his eyes back up to yours. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth before he took the first lick of his ice cream. “Ever gonna save my number in your phone?”

You laughed, a bit embarrassed that a part of you had refused to do it. What if one day you woke up and he backed out? Said you were on your own and wrote you a check to never seek him out?

“Yeah, I just--I dunno, it felt weird at first.”

He raised his eyebrows a bit, finally took another lick from his ice cream. “Too personal?”

You laughed, “a bit.”

“Nothing quite as personal as having a baby together, if you ask me.” He took another lick and then dropped your gaze, a small smile on his face when he looked back at the sunset. “M’not going anywhere. Promise.”

**

When Aarav showed up at your desk on Monday morning, you knew you’d fucked up. When Simone showed up only ten minutes later, you knew you’d really fucked up. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I totally forgot it was tonight.”

“You forgot our bi-weekly Monday night bitch session about work was on a Monday night? On the Monday night after we didn’t hang out last week?” Simone tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at you. Aarav let out a sigh. 

“I’ve been busy, I’ve been so busy.”

“Well are we still on? Simone and I are free as birds, so--we’re waiting on you.”

You looked at your work calendar, pulled up on your screen. Your last meeting was 3pm--then you were supposed to head towards Westwood to meet Harry and Dave and Jeff and probably the other people who had been at the first meeting. 

“Yes, I can--I just, I have to cancel something else. But it’s fine. Not a big deal. That’s on me.”

You picked up your phone and tried to open the message discreetly. Simone pulled up her own and kept talking. “I’ll make us a reservation at Diego’s, yeah?” 

“Sure,” Aarav said, “that’s the place with the good guac, right?”

“Right,” she said, clicking her phone shut and bringing her eyes back to you. “But also--can we talk tonight about how Carson told me he heard Levi mention something about talking with someone at Apple?”

Your eyes went wide. “Shut up--did you actually?”

“I’ll fill you in tonight,” she smiled, taking a step back from your desk and heading for the door of your office. “Over a nice, tall, frozen margarita.”

You leaned back in your chair and groaned, playfully insinuating that waiting that long would be torture. Aarav laughed and picked up a stress ball on your desk. He tossed it in the air once Simone walked away. 

“You alright lately?”

You looked up from your screen, a half written text to Harry was typed out. 

Hey--any chance we can rain check the meeting tonight? I know I have to sign it but something at work

“What?” You looked up at him and clicked your phone to sleep. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You seem distracted, or just stressed.”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” he said, a lilt in his voice like he didn’t quite believe you. 

You mulled it over for a second. You could tell him, you could tell both of them. They were good people and they’d sat through many intolerable staff meetings when Carson tried his best to shit on your team as if he wasn’t everyone’s least favorite coworker. 

You swallowed it down and looked up at him. “All good--just, busy, really. Really hoping that there’s some movement here, soon.”

He knew what you meant--he was the one you��d been most transparent with. 

“I think it’s gonna happen, don’t worry.”

You nodded, let out a sigh, wishing you could tell him that the apple seed in your uterus made things slightly less black and white than just getting a promotion.

And you wished you could have explained that to them that night--especially when they grilled you for not drinking. You shoveled chips and dip into your mouth like it was going out of style--only coming up for air when Simone reminded you about her news. 

“So do you want the scoop on Levi or what?”

“Do not get my hopes up,” you warned her. “I’m not in a good place for getting jerked around.”

Aarav laughed and sipped on his margarita. “Jerk her anyway.”

“I think he had an interview.”

“No he didn’t,” you whined, worried it was either false or too good to be true. You loved Levi. He was funny and talented and he taught the three of you a lot. Plus, he didn’t really care that you’d been working from home a lot more often lately. 

But you’d been hoping he’d leave Facebook for the last eight months. Ever since he told you that he’d certainly recommend you to the higher ups as his replacement. 

“I swear on my life. On Mark Zuckerberg, even. I heard Levi telling Dan from Tech Support about it in the cafeteria the other day.”

Instead of responding, you shoveled in another mouthful of guac, wide eyes when they looked at you for some sort of response. But what were you supposed to say? How were you to supposed to be excited for something that had long been building, moving in that direction, but was now suddenly threatened by a one night stand?

You’d worked at Facebook longer than both Aarav and Simone. Simone came on only a few months after you, but Aarav was a whole year behind. They were also marketing geniuses, Aarav came from a top school in Chicago, Simone from the Bay Area with a degree in New Media and Internet Marketing. Your small team was responsible for digital promotions, those run online or in commercials. As the team’s Visual Designer, you worked closely with the rest of them to bring their ideas to the screen, however that looked.

So when the Team Lead, Levi, had started making mentions about heading to a new job, he casually tried to gauge your interest over coffee in the first floor cafe. 

But this was shitty timing. How were you supposed to take maternity leave in the first few months in a new job? Would someone fill your spot while you were gone? The questions that started to race through your mind felt overwhelming, so much so that you wished you could reach for the margarita in Aarav’s hand. 

But you didn’t. And you bit your tongue when they asked you again why you weren’t drinking. You didn’t tell them, though you wanted to, that the reason you had to miss work in the afternoon the next day was because you had to sign an NDA, agreeing to keep them and others in the dark about what was sure to be the most wild adventure yet. 

And when you hugged them goodbye in the parking lot, you blinked back tears, hoping that one day, they’d know the truth. 

**

You sent the documents to your mom. She was far from a lawyer, but she was likely the safest option you had. Lexi tried to grab them when you left them on the counter, push some sunglasses on her face and read the biggest words she saw in a posh Transatlantic accent. Both individuals agree that any proceedings will be confidential, she giggled and pretended to rip it up, collapsing on the sofa beside you to watch Netflix before bed. 

It didn’t make much more sense to your mother, either, she sighed over FaceTime and apologized for not being able to help. That was your cue to text Harry. Is there actually someone I could meet with to go over these papers? Aside from Dave?

He set it up--claimed that Jeff found someone easily and then two days later, a woman with short blonde hair stood on your front step, Jeff in tow. 

She sat at your small dining room table--one your mom had tucked away in the basement when you were little--the perfect spot for arts and crafts. You prayed, while your blonde-haired lawyer looked over all the words on the endless pages, that she didn’t notice the paint splotches or pools of glitter that had long been stuck on the dark, stained wood.

You sat there for hours, Lexi came and left twice in the time that the three of you huddled around the papers, Jeff with a baseball cap on as he told you about why these things were important. Rita--who you learned was a connection through Harry’s record label--had already signed an NDA and promised to explain the clauses and constraints in layman's terms. 

So you felt slightly less stupid and insecure walking back into the same conference room Tuesday afternoon, alone on your side of the table. 

Harry was already seated when you arrived, he offered a smile and a nervous scan over your body before you sat across from him. Jeff ended whatever call he’d been on, Dave’s hand immediately extended to receive the manila folder he’d previously sent you home with. 

Another sunny Los Angeles day smiled through the window, Harry’s assistant was nowhere to be seen, the label rep wasn’t there, either. Three against one, this time. 

You didn’t admit it to them, but your hand shook a bit when you reached across the table, handed over the packet of papers that somehow felt like you were giving up freedom, giving up your say in things and like you didn’t even know what you’d now lose. It was all in writing now. You were carrying this baby to term and that was the one thing that would keep Harry in your life, for better or for worse.

The only thing you took solace in was the fact that you had access to Jeff and Glenne, and maybe Rita, now, too. You could ask questions or get clarification over cups of coffee or take out. 

So maybe that explained the calmness in your gut when you sat on top of an exam table in Doctor Weston’s office, Harry pacing nervously in front of you. 

“Can you relax?” You asked, finally letting out the breath you’d been holding for the last few minutes. 

Was it okay for you to say that? You still felt like you were walking on eggshells around him, unsure of what would tick him off and how to react. The truth was that you were still strangers--he was still someone you didn’t know. Someone who had his own pet peeves and his own fears and anxieties. He’d met you in the parking lot, he was already out of his car when you pulled in beside him the next week and met him after work. 

You’re kind of late, he’d said. A frown on his face when he used sunglasses to shield his eyes. 

You’d been in a meeting. You left as soon as you could. Now, he still couldn’t shake the nerves after he’d listed off the things that were keeping him up at night.

“I can’t relax,” he retorted, his words charged. He turned on his feet, hands in the pockets of his jacket. “I have to figure out a lot of stuff right now. And I’m nervous, okay? This is a big day.” He motioned over to the sonogram machine, a box of purple gloves was tucked alongside it. 

“You’re not the one who has to have someone’s fingers in her--you know.”

He rolled his eyes at that, let out a breathy sigh and sat in the chair against the wall. He clasped his hands together but then looked up at you. You wondered if he thought you looked stupid in the blue and white gown the nurse had left for you on the table. You’d locked him out of the room when you changed, now he smirked up at you. 

“Cute dress.”

“Shut up.”

“S’nice!”

“It’s ratty and old and--not very flattering,” you plucked at the fabric with your fingers, looking back at him when he sighed again. 

“M’sorry--I just--I had a meeting with Jeff today and we decided to push the album back.”

You were quiet, the air in the room felt stiff and cold. Goosebumps on your skin when you swallowed back the thought: it was all your fault. 

“I--”

He cut you off before you could string any words together. “S’fine, Y/N, really. Gives me more time to sit on it and plan some music videos and talk about marketing stuff.”

You would have asked more about it. Asked about the songs or the process or anything in between, but the door opened and Dr. Weston smiled when she stepped into the white-tiled room. 

“Hello, hello, how’s mom feeling?”

The m-word got caught in your throat, color drained from your face when Harry looked between you and the doctor. “Good, right, love?” He stood and took two steps over to you, some sort of instinct in him took over, a hand on your back when he realized how frozen you were. “Headaches, she’s said, a funny taste in your mouth, right?”

You nodded.

Dr. Weston sat on the rolling stool and moved towards the sonogram machine, an apologetic smile for the panic she’d caused in you. “Are the headaches helped by something over the counter? Advil? Tylenol?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Advil. Is that alright?”

“Perfectly fine. Just take the recommended dose, no more than it says on the bottle.”

You and Harry both nodded at that--as if he would remember her advice, too. 

“Alright,” she reached for some gloves and looked up at you, eyes wide. “Ready to lean back? The gel will be cold but it will give us a good look at what’s going on in there. This will be the first of many ultrasounds.”

You did as she told, pushed your bum back on the table and let your back rest flush against it. She was right--the gel was sticky and cool and the probe that came from the machine poked at your stomach. You ignored the nervousness that pooled in your chest when you exposed your skin in the room, that last time Harry had seen you like this, it was dark and his vision was likely blurred by the alcohol. 

“Okay,” Dr. Weston’s voice was calm, she moved along your lower stomach for a few seconds, all eyes were glued to the screen. “So, the big dark circle there in your uterus,” she pointed at the screen and clicked something to capture it. “That’s the lining, there, where it turns to a lighter gray.”

Harry nodded, his lips slightly parted as his arms crossed over his chest. 

“And that, the tiny little thing inside of it--” she adjusted the probe again and pointed to the screen, tugging at the whole machine a bit so you could see it more easily. “That’s your baby.”

Quiet for a second, the first time in a while that your pulse slowed and you felt alone again, even if it was just inside your head. The thoughts slowed, your breathing slowed, and Harry’s hip bumped against your arm when he looked down at you. 

There was a small smile on his face. One that looked genuine but slightly terrified at the same time. He pointed towards the screen, “s’right there, that’s it.”

“I see it,” you nodded.

He tilted his head to the side. “It’s more--like a pea now.”

You laughed a little, immediately bringing levity to the room. “It wasn’t going to be an apple seed forever.”

Dr. Weston smiled, rolled away from the machine when you pushed yourself up on your elbows. “Do you want to do a vaginal ultrasound? We can possibly hear the heartbeat that way--obviously less comfortable.”

Harry looked over at you, all you did was nod. She asked you to slide off the hospital shorts you’d tugged on beneath the gown. Harry twisted around to offer privacy, this time, the probe was more uncomfortable and there was a tinge of pink on your cheeks when he turned back to face you, his gaze trailed down to notice Dr. Weston’s hand under the blanket that was now splayed out on your lap.

Quiet for a second, then she smiled. “That sound, the whooshing--that’s the heartbeat. That’s the baby, again,” she pointed. “Right there.”

“Huh,” you said, once again, eyes on the screen and hands clasped over your stomach. Harry looked down at you when Dr. Weston captured the image again. 

“So,” Dr. Weston’s voice was quieter now, she removed the probe and discarded her gloves into the trash. “Still too soon to tell the sex. But--we’ll do another one in about four weeks. If anything changes, if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out. You can email me on the patient portal or just call the front desk.”

“Okay.”

“I'll print these for you.”

“Can you print two copies, please?”

She nodded, another reminder of how off track things were from the plan. You ignored the weight on your shoulders, the guilt that passed through your veins when she shut the door behind her and left you alone in the room with him. 

You sat up, the paper crumbled beneath you and Harry stood awkwardly in the center of the room. 

“I, uh--I still haven’t told my family.”

You bit at your lip, unsure. Was it because he was ashamed? Embarrassed? Angry? You didn’t ask.

“I want to, I just--I haven’t seen them in a bit. So. I’m supposed to go home for a while next week.”

You nodded. “You should go.”

“It’s supposed to be for, like, six weeks.”

“That’s fine.”

“No--I’m not--I can’t miss whatever happens.”

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

He pulled his head back, confused by your words. “I don’t think that’s how pregnancy works.”

You stood from the table and hopped down, suddenly much shorter than you felt before, barefoot on the tile. “Just go.”

He let out a sigh. “I might for a week, but, that’s all.”

“You don’t have to do this,” you snapped suddenly. “You don’t have to come to every appointment and act like we’re actually--I don’t know, together, or something. We can still live separate lives.”

“I’m not acting like that,” he said, eyebrows pointed inwards now. “I’m just doing what’s right. I’m in this, too, Y/N.”

You turned around, shimmied the shorts down from your hips and held the gown in place. You grabbed for your underwear on the chair beside his, neatly folded in a pile as if your life wasn’t a mess.

“I think you should do it. Tell them in person.” You pulled up the elastic band over your hips, still keeping the gown close to your body. 

He handed you the black shorts you’d been wearing earlier, the gesture didn’t match the tone of his voice. “Why are you like this?”

“I’m not like anything,” you said, one foot in first, then the other. “I just don’t want you to feel trapped in LA with me. I’m fine.”

You dropped the gown now, holding it to your chest when you turned to reach for your bra. He averted his gaze, stared directly at the vagina poster on the wall. “Right.”

You tugged on your bra quickly, reaching for your shirt and pulling it over your head. “Right what?”

“You’re right. You’re fine. You don’t need me,” a shrug of his shoulders. “Is that what you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to relax.”

“Well I’m sorry that I can’t,” he spoke quickly now, the anger on his face stopped you in your tracks. “But the last thing I need is for you to act like none of this is a big deal.”

You didn’t mean to do it again--you didn’t feel it coming until the tears were already on your cheeks, wet and falling towards the floor. He sighed at that, steadied his own breathing and pinched at the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, words broken by the heavy breathing. “It just happens now--I just cry on command.”

He shook his head, watching as you folded the gown neatly on the table, left it there to be discarded by the nurse. “No--I--it’s fine. You can cry as much as you want.”

You turned to look at him, a few breaths to try to steady your pulse. He stepped forward, his arms wrap around your shoulders. You were still for a moment, unsure if you were allowed you let your arms wrap around his waist, or if it would make the crying worse. But you did, and when you did, he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 

“S’alright. I’ll go home for a week. Then I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” you said. “Okay.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

author’s note: longer than usual!!! so excited for all of you to read what’s coming! I hope everyone is staying safe and staying home. I wanted to put this chapter out a bit early since I know everyone is (hopefully) stuck inside. keep all of the messages coming i love chatting with all of you about Harry and Y/N and their little apple seed!!!! 

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @stylesfics-xx @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila @mell-love @anssu-amry @yelllowgrass @littlesoldierelleora @styles217 @rachkon @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @myhat  @rosegoldbel @passionate-dreamerr @grammyforstyles @haute-romance-quotidienne@dontgiveupthedayjob @ursamajor603 @craic-head-horan @heavenspidey @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @blackxxmagicc @winter-soldier-007 @ssllbb @wanderlustiing @jdcharliewhiskey  @caritocp @kaybee87 @wildbeee @hsunflowervol @harrys-medicines @tobe-sogolden @theresnooneheretosave @1d-tommo5 @soullikestyles @mrsfstyles

[hugoscenteno]

SKAM FRANCE Episode1 Clip7 Translation

Friday - 19:26

tw: mentions of death, addictions, self-harm, shooting.

Jo: you came! that’s so great.

Tiff: yeah but I’m just staying for a beer.

Jo: you do what you want. We’re over there.

Tiff: what do you mean “we”? No you told them?

Jo: no not at all! It’s just that you dmed me and I wax supposed to meet them so I just thought that it would be good for you to see some people, right?

Tiff: well I don’t know...I don’t really feel good. I’m gonna go, it’s okay don’t worry.

Jo: no, no, no, sorry it’s me, I suck, I got confused, you told be “a beer” so I thought you didn’t need to talk. But you know what? If you want, we can go someplace else just the two of us.

Tiff; no, no, no they’re gonna find it even weirder if we leave just the two of us.

Jo: you’ll see, they’re really cool.

Max: did you see Redouane’s last video? It’s not that good, it’s not that good.

Jo: tada!

Bilal: okay, uh, we weren’t friends last year, but everyone knows what she did to you, so just tell us if you don’t want her to be here.

Jo: well I want her here. Okay, so you’re lying when you say that you’re not biased against anyone, you’re not that open-minded after all.

Max: you’re right Jo. Never thought I’d ever say that. 

Jo: asshole!

Max: go ahead sit down.

Tiff: thank you.

Bilal: so, Vodka, who wants some? You do?

Tiff: is it not forbidden to do that?

Bilal: when it’s 8 euros for a pint, everything is allowed.

Jo: be more discreet at least.

Max: we should really find a place where we can party without spending  lots of money.

Redouane: grandpa Max is gonna talk about the raceourse again. Get ready Tiff, you’re gonna feel like you were born after the Earth and that you haven’t lived anything. Like Bilal and I.

Max: no bouncer at the entrance, we all pitch in for the alcohol, and no matter what your style is, everyone was accepted.

Lola: and only Sekou would find great places like these.

Tiff: who is Sekou?

Jo: it’s a friend of ours who got in a school of gifted kids. That’s the kind of friend you dream of having on your team when you play Trivial Pursuit.

Tiff: oh yeah I see.

Jo: I swear he was extremely intelligent, it’s unbelievable.

(Maya arrives)

Jo: hey!

Maya: hi!

Jo: hola, que tal? Oh you’re together? I’m kidding.

Maya: nice to meet you, I’m Maya.

Tiff: Tiffany, Tiff.

Maya: Tiff from the insta page?

Max: now it’s Jo’s friend, Tiff.

Tiff: you’re going on a trip?

Lola: yes, at my place.

Maya: Lola is hosting me while I look for a room. My landlady’s son came back from abroad, so I’m kinda homeless.

Tiff: ah shit, sorry.

Maya: no worries, I’m used to it.

Max: she acts like Causette* with her little backpack.

Maya: a picture of my dead parents is really all I need.

Lola: don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you my little orphan.

Redouane: really? Are you ready? This week in “Hyper impossible”, addictions, grief, family secrets, homosexuality, and yet...she found love. Lola tells us about it. That’s wasn’t bad.

Lola: Redouane for the thousandth time, I won’t be the subject of your next story.

Redouane: oh? if it were Brut** you would’ve straight up said yes.

Lola: no.

Redouane: Lola, don’t you wanna be a message of, I don’t know, hope for our generation? You know, raise people’s spirits and everything?

Lola: On the other hand, that girl without arms that got 20 in the Bac, huge respect.

Bilal: yeah it was so moving, the scene where she types her Parcoursup choices* with her feet. You know a tear rolled down my face? It was amazing.

Tiff: so dead parents, disability, addiction, you guys have no limit?

Bilal: yeah we do, we don’t bully anyone. Well I’m just saying.

Tiff: what I mean is that bewteen you you are supposed to support each other, not remind you of your worst times.

Jo: Chill Tiff, it’s because we’re friends that we can do that.

Redouane: it’s our way to deal with misery, you see.

Lola: and if we cried everytime something shitty happens, we might as well shoot ourselves now.

Max: at least it would be different for you than razor blades.

Bilal: oh no he didn’t!

Redouane: he loaded it!

Jo: excellent!

Redouane: and he shot! Right away, he didn’t think about it.

Max: easy.

Redouane: I’m gonna use it in “Hyper Impossible”.

Bilal: no don’t talk about “Hyper Impossible” it’s annoying. He doesn’t like it!

*Causette is a character in Les Misérables, we call people who complain a lot or who have things to complain about Causette.

*Brut is an investigative media online.

*Parcoursup is the platform on which we enter our university choices, or choices for third-level education.

[maxbernini]

sekou and zoe :0? for 3 headcanons

tysm anon 💕 sorry this is so long i’m on mobile & can’t do a read more

zoe m (assuming it’s her and not wtf’s zoe lol):

- zoe is THE postergirl for “pretending you’re famous in the shower and being interviewed”, which is cool, we all do it, except zoe doesn’t limit herself to the shower, nor is she silent. many times ava has come home to find zoe in the kitchen telling an invisible oprah a highly exaggerated version of her life: something about kieu my once being SO lovesick zoe thought she had a fever and had to carry her to the hospital, bridal-style, and also there were zombies. it’s an easy way to make nora laugh too, but on her worst days, zoe will hold her and when she’s calm, give an “off the record interview” where she details why she loves her sister, the strongest person she knows

- she writes fan-fiction. it used to be self-insert type stuff, you know, “my mom sold me to one direction” and the like, but actually...really really good? she had a solid wattpad fan-base for a reason. nora used to make her story covers on photoshop. she sticks to ao3 now, posting devastatingly gorgeous 30k pieces once every six months or so that garner their own mini fandoms. i’m not going to say what medias she’s writing for, but i’m not ruling out a certain cursed never-ending CW show, nor something completely different and wild like....RPF about the buzzfeed unsolved guys or whatever. or maybe less famous, very niche buzzfeed people which makes it better/worse (she gets her own ‘10 Lines In This Fanfic About Our Employees That Will Make You Cry Into A Pillow And Demand We Start A Union’ article)

- when the instas went on their social media detox / camping retreat / whatever the fuck it was, zoe enjoyed herself more than she thought she would. they were there to help constantin, yes, but it was healing for her, too. she, kieu my, and finn shared a tent, and on the last night, she stayed awake far longer than she should’ve, listening to their breathing, listening to the trees. if she concentrated hard enough, she could make everything fade away until she felt, for a strange, single moment, that she was the only person in the entire world. it was honestly comforting, all that peace and quiet and numbness, and yet, when asked about her exhaustion the next day, she says she stayed up on guard to protect them from any bears or serial killers; ismail immediately pretends to stab finn (“i was the killer all along!”), and amidst all the ensuing dramatic chaos, zoe thinks: i am very glad to not be alone. i am very glad to be alive.

sékou:

- with an older brother and two older sisters, sékou’s the ‘baby’ of the family but they don’t baby or other him at all. they’re all close, despite the miles between them: his parents came with him to canada, though his dad, a doctor (and his son’s biggest defender, especially when it came to getting diagnosed within an ableist, racist healthcare system) had to stay in paris a little longer to sort out work stuff with the pandemic, meaning he and his mom spent the first few months alone - “but not lonely!” she says every morning over breakfast; she doesn’t mind cooking it because she loves him and he helps with dinner anyways, as that’s how he unwinds after school. dealing with numbers in recipes helps him stay sharp whilst allowing him to relax and have fun

- other unwinding techniques include IT-related commissions, video editing, art history, philosophy, and, of course, urbex. since it’s canon that la mif are too depressed to urbex now that he’s gone, i’ll say it’s the opposite for him. he does urbex in canada, and it’s nice to finally be with people who follow maps and put safety first and are rather clinical - though not necessarily boring - about their approach. he becomes the president of his uni’s urbex club, the quickest anyone’s ever risen through the ranks. still, sometimes down in those tunnels it’s dark enough that it’s easy to pretend he’s back in paris, the indecipherable shapes around him his old friends. he tags their initials on a wall, and never tells them, his own little secret

- determined to not fall out of touch to an irreparable degree though, sékou sends la mif letters/packages, often very personalized: it starts with, like, memes for jo, film recs for max, political articles for maya, positive affirmations for lola etc, before becoming an international small gifts exchange because everyone involved is extra. noticing two new guys on the group insta, sekou thinks it’d be rude to exclude them, figuring there’s no harm in sending a tiny boxing glove keychain he saw at the store the other day, or some sewing tips his eldest sister, a fashion designer, passes along. bc skamfr is often an unintentional comedy (eg: the car), everybody in la mif assumes they’re the only one getting sent stuff bc nobody talks about it out of guilt (“what if he’s not sending them things...”). so it’s quite a shock when sékou flies back home for summer and he and redouane are like, immediately going in for a hug, the first to do so, and bilal presents sékou with a homemade bowtie. max is very pouty about it but max is pouty about most things so jo elbows him in the ribs and they all hash it out at maya’s that night; sékou takes one look at the place and thinks: i’m glad your taste in decor is better than your wardrobe, and then thinks: i’m not sure where i want to live, there are so many things i want to do and discover and become, but there’s no where else i’d rather call home right now (is he talking about the city or his friends?? you decide!)

give me a character and i’ll tell you three pieces of headcanon i have about them! 

[gleeblaineislife]

Glee- season 3 au one-shot/suicide note. by gleeblaineislife

I’m living a lie. Well, I was living a lie by now. My life was not perfect by any means, even though I acted like it was. I am not the bubbly, dapper schoolboy called Blaine Warbler. I am Blaine Devon Anderson and he is much different. Blaine Devon Anderson is an actor and Blaine Warbler is his character. I don’t remember what it’s like to be pure, unfiltered Blaine Devon Anderson. I don’t even know who that is. But that’s okay, since people wouldn’t like him. If anything he’s just a fucked up mess that no one wants to deal with. I get it. I don’t even want to deal with him. But, everyone likes Blaine Warbler. Blaine Warbler is charismatic, selfless, kind, confident, and a leader. All the things Blaine Devon Anderson isn’t... I am going to get this note started with an auto-biography so people can see just how my life was.

I was a mistake. My parents got drunk and went unprotected in July 1994. Nine months later, April 6th, 1995, I was born. My parents didn’t want to keep me, but Cooper (nine years old at the time) was ecstatic to be getting a sibling. And my parents would do anything for their perfect son. I didn’t have the best childhood. My parents worked a lot, so Cooper had to babysit me. Which means, some of my earliest memories are my brother telling me everything I was doing wrong. I was close to my lola, though. She lived in the Philippines, but when she was in America visiting my mama, I got her full attention. My lola taught me Filipino so I could speak to her better (Lola’s English was limited). Lola also made sure I took great pride in being half Pinoy. Then, my lola died when I was 7 years old. My mama and I went to the Philippines for her funeral. I remember Mama and I crying for hours together. Anyways, life went on. My bond with Mama was short-lived, which was an improvement from my non-existent one with my dad. Cooper moved out when he was eighteen and I was eight. My parents were disappointed when he went to L.A. to pursue acting. But, he was still their perfect son. 

I have always known I like boys in that way and not girls. I was twelve when I realized there was a name for that. Gay. And I knew that no one liked people that were gay. I was beyond upset that I was gay. I cried myself to sleep each night praying/begging for anyone to make me straight. Of course that never happened. It took 2 years and a lot of cuts on my thighs to accept that I was gay. I came out to my parents. My dad yelled. Mama cried. It was one of the worst days ever. In high school, somehow people found out I was gay. That led to countless insults, being the root of everyone’s jokes, and being shoved daily. I had no friends. I had no family. I had nobody. I started cutting everywhere that wasn’t visible through clothes. I tried to stay positive. I told myself that they would get tired of torturing me. That my parents would accept me. I thought one of those was coming true when my father came to talk to me. He was working less and he said he wanted to do something with me. I was so happy. When he presented the old car he wanted us to repair, I told myself it wouldn’t be that bad. It was. I’ve never been interested in cars and fixing one was incredibly boring. I knew what his true intentions were once he started talking to me about girls. I told him I was still gay and he got mad. We continued fixing the car without him mentioning it again. Until we were finished and he brought up the topic of girls again. When I once again said I was still gay, he just walked away. Two weeks later him and all of his stuff was gone forever. It was just me and Mama.

At the end of my freshman year there was a Sadie Hawkins dance. I asked my only friend/the only other out kid to go with me. He said yes and we went together. As friends. It was a night full of dancing and flirting with each other in a friendly way. Afterwards, we were waiting for his father to pick us up from the dance and we were jumped. Some people on the football team were the attackers. I got a concussion, five broken ribs, a broken nose, a fractured ankle, and PTSD. I had it worse than my friend. Mama was so scared and refused to waste any more time ‘failing as a mother’ (her words, not mine). Mama and I both started going to therapy. They put me on SSRIs to help with my PTSD. Mama got some kind of anxiety medication. For the next school year I enrolled at Dalton Academy. Mama picked up more shifts at her job and used the money Lola gave to me to pay for the tuition. 

Dalton was where I got to rebuild. Blaine Warbler was carefully crafted at Dalton Academy. I stopped doing therapy and went off of the SSRIs in November. I was so determined to be okay. Cutting was the only thing that kept me going. The doctors questioned the scars in the hospital but I was quick to assure them they were all accidents. I never brought it up in therapy either. I always made sure what we talked about was strictly related to my PTSD. Anyways, I joined the Warblers and became the lead singer. (I’ve taken a few vocal lessons before the Sadie Hawkins incident). Since Mama usually worked on the weekends, I didn’t feel a need to go to my house. So I usually spent them learning the school’s piano and guitar and perfecting my vocals. Music was the only other thing that kept me sane. Music and cutting. The only times Blaine Devon Anderson was revealed. Then I met Kurt. And most of you guys probably know the external perspective of that. On the inside I was battling with depression, self-hatred (for manipulating Kurt and everyone else that I was normal + making my dad leave), and recurring PTSD (from hearing Kurt’s story and going back to a public school). I am the only one at blame. That’s the story of my life. Now on to one last thing I have to say to everyone:

Mama, I love you and I’m sorry that I’ve been a burden making you work more and driving your soulmate away. 

Dad, I hate it but I still do love you. I’m sorry for being gay. I’m sorry for not liking cars and being too short to play sports. I’m sorry that I’m too feminine for you to love.

Cooper, thank you for not caring that I’m gay. You are a truly great brother and I love you.

Warblers, thank you for accepting me as your leader and believing in me as much as I believe in all of you.

New directions, I get why you guys didn’t want me to be on your team. I know I’m an outsider. You don’t have to deal with me now.

Kurt, you were an amazing boyfriend and I love you. I’m so sorry that you don’t love me since I’m a coward and am so afraid that once you found out I wasn’t perfect you’d leave. I hope you find an amazing husband.

I tried to have a great last day in this world. I made and ate breakfast with Mama, called Cooper, tried to be happy at school, sang ‘Cough Syrup’ in glee club, went on a coffee date with Kurt, and now I am about to call Mama one last time. Then I’m going to take the pills while listening to my favorite songs in my favorite spot in my backyard. It’s the perfect way to end my anything but perfect life. I’ve been acting for too long. I can’t live like this any longer. I am a fraud. A fake. I’m about to see Lola. Goodbye everybody. I’ve been battling with depression for so long and now I’ve lost. I can’t even stand to live with myself so how would other people stand to live with me?

I’m so sorry.

Goodbye

[rarestnicole]

[090221] To the force behind our power...

“To die is to rest.”

I’ve never felt defeated until today. I felt so helpless, so hopeless, so defiant at the same time. 

Looking at your casket being wheeled in the church, I wanted to rebel so much. I want to rebel like you do when you know that you don’t like to do something. Your conviction is unbelievable and admirable at the same time. 

I couldn’t believe that you’re already gone. I always thought that you’d be with us longer—more than I’d ever live—if possible. 

We may not have the best relationship, but we had something unique; something that only the two of us share. 

Everyone knows that I am not your biological granddaughter nor we are blood related. Despite that, you loved me. You loved me when I was young and I could still remember it vividly. You were usually the one who’d go up on stage to pin me my ribbons. I remember being so thankful for that because it’s always a struggle to ask someone to pin me my ribbons. Thank you for saving me from the hassle and pain then. 

We only drifted when I grew up being a disciplinarian that Mommy is while you are the always indulging and tolerant grandma to all you grandchildren and great grandchildren. 

I wasn’t sorry to how I treated them because I know in my heart that it was the best for them. The world isn’t limited to people who will understand us in the family, so I tried my best to instill values and discipline to them that will be of use to them when they go past our hold. 

Lola, I believe I did a good job with how I established a relationship to your grandchildren and great grandchildren. The bonds we have now are precious and solid. I’ll continue to take good care of them; it may not be exactly how you would but I assure you that it will be for their goodness’s sake.

Our love-hate relationship continued through the years. We argue and disagree on a lot of things but I felt your love anyways in fleeting moments. I saw the way you loved me in glimpses that thankfully didn’t go unnoticed. 

When we argue and Mom would butt in about returning me to Mama and Papa, you’d immediately say, “Mamunot takon.” 

You dislike the idea of me being returned because, “Uja taran nagbahol, iuli pa nimo.”

‘Di ka naman wrong, La. Sa kwarto mo ako pinanganak, sa bahay at pamilya mo lumaki, at sa mga paniniwala at pag-uugali niyo natuto. 

I always appreciate your conviction whenever we’re in that situation. Thank you so much. 

I hope that you are aware of how much you’ve influenced me in more than 21 years of being with you physically and mentally. 😆 

Elementary pa lang ako, expressions mo na ang bukambibig ko. I know that I shouldn’t say some of those, but I couldn’t help it. It’s weird how it was natural. 

“Ay patay, buhu batuna.”

“Boras ni apay.”

‘Di ko alam ang meaning ng pangalawa because you refused to tell me, I think it was so bad, you’d rather keep it to yourself.

However, it’s already become natural for me to associate that expression in situations that it seem fitting, based on how and when I heard it from you. 

Heck, I even brought it to the city, never minding if no one understood me. What mattered to me is the expression of my emotions exactly how I was used to. It was perfect and comforting to curse, to rant, and to talk the way I was used to and I was unapologetically me wherever I went. 

That’s another thing that was your influence. You’re cool, yunno. I might disagree with some of your principles and beliefs but I learned that when I take it on another perspective, it’ll result to something that aligns to my own principles and beliefs. It’s not all bad. 

We have the rarest relationship in the family, I must say.

You are always vocal of how much you love each other while we’re both vocal about how much we hate each other. 😆 

Sabi nila, gahibla lang ang layo ng galit sa pagmamahal.

Guess that’s our love language. It’s unique, isn’t it? 

We’d bicker here and there then die for each other time after time. 🤣 

Hay, Lola.

Where are you now? 

I sensed you last night, was I right? Is that really you? 

I thought I knew loss when I lost Inang, but your loss is life-fucking-changing. 

God knows how I genuinely cared for you. I don’t care if no one else knows its extent, all that mattered to me is that I do. Despite our ramblings about each other, I did care for you. 

Well, maybe, I hoped that you felt it. 

I’ve heard countless of times how much of a bionic woman you are. I held unto that.

I always thought that you’re a constant in our life, refusing to believe that you’ll leave us one day. I refused to entertain the thoughts of our house being empty of you physical presence. I refused to believe that you’re slowly getting old, that we’re slowly losing you.

Despite your old age, I dodged all of Mommy’s observance and countered with my own possibility. Kasi nga ayaw ko, hindi ko kaya. You are my constant as much as Mommy is. 

I wasn’t prepared to be left, I refused to prepare. I’m sorry.

I used to reflect on my prayers and hopes and arrived to many conclusions. 

I could be selfish because I’m holding you back in my head. 

I may be toxically hopeful because I don’t want you to go.

Or maybe I was an ally on your pursuit of living longer and longer and longer.

Iniisip ko noon na hangga’t gusto mong mabuhay, kahit nahihirapan ka, ayos lang na panghawakan ka lagi. Nandito naman kami para umalalay, para tumulong, para mag-alaga. I’ll be an instrument to your pursuit of long life. 

Saka na lang ako nag-entertain ng thoughts na, “Okay lang na wala ka sa piling namin, at least nakapagpahinga ka na,” no’ng wala ka na. 

I know I’m selfish for refusing to let you go in your last days, when I saw you at your weakest. 

Kasi, La, naniniwala akong lalakas ka pa. Alam kong lalakas ka pa, if only you were able to eat. You’re the sharpest person I know even in your weakest state. Your will to live is stronger than mine, that’s why it’s kinda annoying that you don’t get to live longer than you really do. 

I’d give you some of my supposed sunsets if I could because I know that you’d like that.

In the days and nights of your wake, day and night, I was there with you because I want to; not just because I need to. 

Despite of being there, looking at you through the glass, I didn’t think that you’re gone. 

You’re there, alright. You’re there in a different part of the house, in different position, and different state, but never acknowledging that you’re actually dead.

God, it’s pathetic, right? What were you thinking then, La? 

Ginaisip siguro nimo na umang ko? Haha. 

Maiwan bay ko? Jaan gani. Pero tuwing naaalala nakon na patay don gid gani kaw, daw pirmi takon mapanawag sa imo kag mamangkot it, “Basi?”

Jaan takon.

Weird. Sorry, La. 

Kaya kaina kang ginbuol don nanda kaw sa balay, daw birahon tikaw. Haha. Mamunot bala kaw kato? Char. Ay ilam sa aton. Tonta takon, La. 😆 

I felt so defeated looking at your casket while listening to the homily. I mean, that’s another step to not-being-with-you. Itself inevitably closing in and I know that I can do nothing.

I experienced and felt things that I just hear, read, and watch from others before. I didn’t know how real those emotions and impulses were until today. 

I couldn’t believe that when we go back home from the cemetery, there’s no more you. Not even on the casket. God, it’s a 360-degree change. 

Mingaw taya La nga uwa kaw. Maiwan kami bay kaya? 

Gatuna kag gatapos among adlaw sa imo, maiwan kami kaya? 

I don’t mind serving you again. I don’t mind doing the things I didn’t expect to do again. I don’t mind those. 

If I have something I mind, it’s about our personal bickerings and as long as I can vent it out somewhere, I’m okay again. 

You made me experience things that taught me precious lessons and maybe, that’s exactly how I need to be so I could grow exactly how I’m fated to be. 

I guess, despite our relationship, we are perfectly what we need for each other to grow on different manners, something vital to both of us as individuals. 

Wow, La, perfect gali kita for each other. 😆 Well, that’s my reflection on our relationship. 

I wasn’t able to mourn with complete abandon because of my denial, being the source of strength to those who need it, and my pointless hope. 

La, I’ve never told you something, but I prayed countless of times about it. We were never vocal about our mushy sentiments, so it’s understandable. I’m utterly thankful for the family that you and Lolo Nito built. 

I am me mostly me because of this family; the family that drew strength from you. 

You are the Yggdrasil to our worlds. 

You said, “to die is to rest,” so I’ll hold on to that. I’d love to think that you’re already comfortable wherever you’re now. Wherever you’re heading, know that we find comfort in your memories. 

As the lyrics to your song goes:

“I will go far away where you can see me no more. Goodbye to you, I’m going to leave you now. 

Sad and sorrow is to leave you now, but my darling what shall I do. Sad and sorrow is to leave you now, goodbye my love.”

Sad and sorrow indeed. We’ll get to acceptance thought. We’ll pray for both of our sakes. 

Sabi mo, huwag kaming umiyak kasi magkikita pa naman tayo, ‘di ba? 

So, yeah, see you, La.

Palangga tikaw. 

[ayellowcurtain]

Can you write something about Lucas finding out about Eliott's going to urbex parties and being mad about it? (please no immediate making up)

Lucas checks the time and he feels disappointed at himself for doing so. Just over a minute has passed. Since he’s already with his phone unlocked, he checks his messages too. Still nothing.

“Hey, come on, let’s have a drink.” Yann’s comforting hand massages his shoulder, leading Lucas back to the couch they were before he walked away to anxiously check if he had any news from his boyfriend. He sits right next to Arthur again, trying to smile back at him, knowing it looks fake. Lucas hates being the annoying friend again, the one that brings the mood of the whole group down while they were supposed to be enjoying their night together.

He can’t help the worry that fills his mind when Eliott does things like this. It’s his new thing, going out at random times of the night with no real explanation. On the good days he’ll at least say I’m going out with some friends, I’ll be back before you fall asleep.

It never happens, Lucas really tries to stay awake every time Eliott says that, but he always ends up falling asleep, waking up with soft kisses on his cheek and a heavy weight dropping himself right next to Lucas, snuggling closer and almost instantly falling asleep.

It’s his first real relationship, Lucas is still trying to navigate their limits, what he can or can’t ask. He doesn’t want to push Eliott, to make him so angry at Lucas’ curiosity and insecurity that Eliott gives up on them completely. So he tries not to ask too much, tries to give as much space as one can desire, even if it ends up hurting himself.

And he obviously doesn’t want to constantly be talking about this with his friends. They all have their own problems, they don’t need to hear Lucas’ whines every single day. He gives them a break every few days, especially at parties. He’ll talk to them on Monday when everyone is sober enough to give him proper advice.

-

The party is basically over after a few hours. When Lucas looks around, he recognizes just his friends still at Emma’s place, all cramped up in two couches, facing each other, having those drunk conversations and Lucas feels out of place. He’s not as drunk as them and regrets it, he was just too worried to drink and now it’s too late. Soon they’ll all go home and there’s no point in getting drunk now.

Everyone starts cheering and screaming suddenly and Lucas looks up expectantly, finally finding the one he’s been looking for all night long. Yann’s hand behind him makes Lucas sink even deeper inside the couch as Yann moves away from him, creating a tiny space where Eliott squeezes himself into, almost on Lucas’ lap, putting his arm behind Lucas’ head, kissing his cheek excitedly.

“Hello, my love!”

Eliott’s happiness hurts him and Lucas doesn’t think it’s fair. He is well aware he’s being dramatic and so unnecessary, but he can’t bring himself to hide it anymore.

“Lucas?” He ignores Eliott’s confusion and gets up from the couch, walking away before anyone can see him crying. Emma’s place has a tiny dining area to the right of the main living area, far from everyone else, in front of a big window facing the street, Lucas pulls a chair closer to the window, letting himself be sad and angry and just so tired of feeling alone.

“Lucas…” Eliott quickly comes closer, leaning against the wall right next to the window and only then he notices that Lucas is crying, leaning down in front of his chair, holding Lucas’ hands, but he moves them away from Eliott’s touch slowly, looking at him.

“I’m still waiting for the day where you’ll trust me, stop lying about what you do when you leave me alone with no real explanation.”

Eliott opens his mouth, clearly confused as to why this is the matter right now.

“I understand that maybe, at some point, I may have been okay with you keeping important things to yourself and that maybe you think that I would always accept these things, but I can’t anymore. It’s not okay that you don’t trust me to tell me about things that matter to you. We can lie about hating each other’s food, about not liking the same movie, but still watching it anyway, you understand the difference? Not about this, a thing that’s important to you, a part of you. How does that sound right to you? Would you like it if I didn’t tell you when I went out with my friends or if I kept from you that I have a shitty dad with whom I argue all the time? I tell you everything, I even told you way too soon and in the worst way possible about my relationship with my mom. Ask me anything, there’s nothing important that you don’t know, Eliott.”

Lucas stops talking suddenly, he repeated inside his head a thousand times that he was going to wait for the right time to talk about this, to not let his emotions take over him, but he’s really bad at that. Especially around Eliott. The problem for Lucas right now is that he trusts Eliott blindly and it’s almost natural that he sees him and his mouth is already talking nonstop, not holding a word inside.

When Eliott told him about lying where he and Lola met, Lucas wasn’t too angry, but his jealousy made Lola’s presence a little bitter to him every time they saw each other, but he knew it was his fault, had nothing to do with anyone else.

“I didn’t know it would bother you that much.”

“Yes, it bothers me. I thought we were moving somewhere, but we’ve actually been stuck since the first time we got together. You deciding for me how much I know or not about things that affect our relationship.”

“I’m sorry, Lucas. I didn’t want to worry you with my things. It wasn’t that important to me and so I thought it was for the best to keep it to myself, to let you focus on school, on your friends…”

Lucas bites his lower lip, fisting his hands and putting them inside his pockets, away from Eliott’s eyes and touch. A moment goes between them and Lucas tries to keep himself calm, looking at Eliott, needing to ask.

“Do you think you can stop hiding from me? I don’t want a raccoon, constantly hiding behind a mask. I want you, Eliott.”

“And I want you, Lucas.” He whispers and Lucas wants to believe it, but Eliott’s words don’t mean much when they don’t match his actions.

“So stop wearing a mask.” Lucas gets up when he hears footsteps coming closer to them, Yann’s voice saying goodbye to the girls. “I’ll take all of you, gladly, that’s all I want, but only if you let me. I can’t keep living my life wondering what I don’t know.”

Eliott follows him, standing up and stepping closer, clearly worried, his brows furrowed, but Lucas ignores him and his own feelings for Eliott, cleaning his face, rubbing his palms against his eyes to dry all the tears.

“Can we continue this at home? I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” Eliott steps even closer, quietly holding Lucas’ jacket. Lucas feels his hair against Eliott’s face above him, avoiding to look up or he won’t be able to leave Eliott.

“Please, just leave me alone. I’m gonna stay at Yann’s tonight.” He didn’t ask Yann about it, but Lucas is sure he would never say no. And so he just walks away from the one person he loves the most, knowing it’s for his best right now, not Eliott, not anyone. Lucas is only thinking about himself for once.

[marlahey]

so this is not to put you on the spot @rochey1010, but reply characters are limited and ask characters even moreso. I wanted to respond to your prediction post in the most coherent way possible, which ended up requiring way more words than I thought. (is fan mail still a thing or am I just hella old?) (edit: trying to get the tags to work sorry for the repost/wall of text)

you’re totally entitled to your own opinions/thoughts on future sequences and I don’t want to take away from that at all. but I’d like to discuss some of the claims you made around Elliot’s mental health and his relationship with Lucas that I honestly find pretty alarming. I’ve read echoes of these ideas for a while now so I hope you don’t feel like I’m singling you out or trying to attack you personally.   ["Eliott obsessed with mental illness in his love with Lucas. “He’s just worried about me. I have bipolar disorder. Do you know what that is?” Him hiding stuff rooted in those fears being mentally ill and toxic can have on your love.”] Elliot sharing his bipolar disorder with Lola served to contextualize a few of their conversations, bring them closer with a similar experience, and explain why Lucas seemed so upset that morning. He’s not afraid of being mentally ill around his boyfriend. Wanting a little space/alone time from a partner, especially one you live with, is perfectly normal and healthy. urbex has nothing to do with being bipolar. Elliot fesses to his lie quickly, so no real harm done. [“Him saying “And i have Lucas. I can’t lose this” a declaration of hinging his mental health on his need and love for Lucas.” ] the and is essential here. Elliot is not living for Lucas. he’s not pinning his mental health on his relationship. he’s at a point in his life where his suicidal thoughts are few/unwanted. Elliot’s positive relationship is a direct result of his improved mental health, not the other way around. it’s not the reason he’s no longer suicidal. it’s an added bonus that reminds Elliot there’s much to live for, including Lucas, not just him. quite frankly, if anyone’s obsessed with Elliot’s bipolar disorder, it’s Lucas. “don’t you see she has problems?” “what does that mean? since when do you judge people without knowing them? if I have a bad [time], you wouldn’t want someone to do the same?” “exactly. I’d want it to be me taking care of it.” “I’m a little afraid of the day one of you is going to bring down the other.” Lucas is so hyper vigilant over Elliot that he immediately projects all his anxieties onto Lola and their friendship – as if two people with similar struggles can’t be close lest they bring out the worst in one another. that’s wildly unfair to Lola for one and incredibly infantilizing to Elliot for another, as if Lucas doesn’t trust them to manage their own health and well-being. while his heart’s definitely in the right place, it’s really not a good look. yes Lola is young and needs support, but Elliot is an adult. Lucas isn’t E’s saviour, nor should he try to be. the whole lucas/luquette thing is just a little joke. I really don’t think it’s that serious. but I don’t think that conversation implies Elliot’s suggesting Maya be the reason Lola wants to change, either. That’s not healthy, whether you struggle wit MH or not. this last point isn’t specifically directed at you @rochey1010, but your concerns about seeing Lola hit ‘rock bottom’ brought it to mind. I find it very disconcerting that some people seem to think that Lola or Elliot would relapse or have a MH crisis at the most minor provocation. seeing Maya with another girl? relapse. getting rejected? relapse. Lucas’ insecurity over a nonromantic kiss? crisis. while I don’t really care about the spoiler, it’s out there. it remains to be seen if the kiss is scripted or, as you point out – potentially an impulsive act on Lola’s part. I can definitely see what you mean about it being a catalyst for a lot of confusion and angst. But this idea that Elliot would push her away so fully after all this bonding between them is very strange to me. it’s just a kiss, unscripted or not, with no actual romantic feelings involved. it’s not that hard to get over trust me I know. I’d hope Lucas is secure enough in the relationship to not blow it out of proportion. the last clip left a lot of questions re: Lola/Maya so I get your point there, but I think we’re also forgetting that Lola has support from Daphné right now – she’s not alone, even if things with lamifex go south for a while. although to be fair the Daphné as benny.taxi theory feels more valid by the day. which...a mess. slightly off topic but I found it very weird that Maya straight up brought a date to this group hang and then got in Lola’s face when Char instigated that entire awkward exchange, especially after the “I miss you,” conversation?? “What’s your problem?” like, what’s your issue girl, is the bigger question here. I find this romantic plot pretty unnecessary honestly but I mean what’s tv without a ship, I guess. if you even got to the end of this, thanks lol. as we ancients used to say, I just have a lot of feelings.

[ljandersen]

From the Scrap Pile

Thanks for tagging me @rpgwarrior4824 and @pigeontheoneandonly ! I actually haven't seen this meme before. I have tons of writing in the scrap pile. This is fun!

I'll tag: @ripley95things @spook-queen @alphahelices @crqstalite @that-wasnt-so-bad @maxrev @bardofheartdive @swaps55 @painterofhorizons @aricazorel @citadelsushi @pushingsian @ooachilliaoo and anyone else who wants to play. No obligations of course.

This is a scene cut from "About Mars." James discovers Shepard and Kaidan stole his cards.

______________

"Oye!  Been looking for those cards, amigos.”

Shepard squinted at James’s boot and followed his legs up to the broad silhouette blocking out the cargo bay lights.  She lay on her stomach, heels crossed in the air behind her, brushing shoulders with Kaidan.  His biotics prickled against her skin, a delicious static.

“Well, hello there, James,” she said.

“What the hell you guys doing?”

“Don’t break his concentration.”  

Kaidan glowed blue, a deep line between his eyes, with his hand raised.  Gingerly, he settled a four of clubs across the top of two parallel cards.  A sneeze could blow the tower over.  Ten card-stories tall was pushing the limits.  Nothing said eleven card-stories couldn’t push the limit even higher.  Shepard drew the next card off the deck.

“Let’s roof off the left tower.”  Kaidan grabbed another card.

Without biotics, Shepard tipped her card against the one in Kaidan’s hand, a perfect tent shape.  “We'll float it over like this.  Leaning them together on top of the tower would be a disaster.”

“I like the challenge.”  Kaidan pulled his card away.

“The ultimate challenge is height.”

“The ultimate challenge is style.”

 “The ultimate challenge is playing poker without cards.”  James sank onto his heels and reached for the deck.

Shepard moved the deck from James’s fingertips and slapped it down between her and Kaidan’s elbows.  “With how much you play poker, James.  You’ve gotta have other decks.”

“Real cute.”  James reached across her back, but Kaidan pulled the deck to his other side.  James growled.  “C’mon!  Really?  Why don’t you two do your little couple’s jog around the cargo bay instead.  Or, I dunno, go up to your penthouse, Lola.  You and L2?  Candlelight glow of the fishtank, EDI piping in some slow saxophone.  That’s gotta beat building a card house in the corner of the cargo bay.”

“That is tempting.”  Shepard tapped the edge of the card on her lips.  “Although, nothing goes with saxophone quite like strip poker.  I think I’ll borrow these cards a little longer.”

“What?  No.  You’re joshing me, right?”

Shepard ran her eyes over Kaidan.  “How many pieces of clothes are you wearing, Kaidan?  Need to give James a time estimate.”

“The limiting factor is what you’re wearing.”

Kaidan turned back to the house of cards.  He lifted his card in the air with a glowing hand and crackle of biotics in the air.  Shepard followed suit, lifting her card.  The cards rose together up the ten stories toward the top of the left tower.

“Stop and look at yourselves.”  James shook his head.  He pushed to his feet and waved at their creation.  “You’re making a freakin’ house of cards.  Muy boring.  And, you really think your blue magic’s better than just using your hands for that?”

“We’re building a house of cards with our minds, Vega.  Just admit it’s cool.”  Kaidan twisted his card slightly against Shepard’s nine of hearts and hinged them together.  Slowly, the cards settled on the tower’s horizontal floor of cards.

“Don’t let go,” Shepard said.  “Let it settle.”

“You’re the impatient one.”

“Maybe I’m talking to myself.”

“Sorry for shoving in.”

“Hey, your card’s at too much of an angle.  You need to push the base out a bit.”  Shepard waited.  “Kaidan?”

“What?  Thought you were talking to yourself again.  Angle’s fine.  Let’s slowly let go.”

James put his hands on his hips and stepped in front of them.  “My cards?”

“James!”  Shepard hissed and scrambled to see around his legs.

“Shepard, watch out.”

Her biotics went blind.  The card slipped.