#anyways I’m trying to get back into making actual art instead of just painting bc that’s all I seem to do outside of digital lol

[danvillecheese]

you ever heard of gay people from the future

[greenokapi]

So… what do y’all do when you wanna do a bajillion things but you can’t settle on which thing to do so you just kind of end up doing nothing?

… lissen I’m still only recently diagnosed with adhd so I still don’t know how to work with it… I wanna draw so many things, wanna make merch, comics, I wanna write a fuckton of silly cringe fanfics… I wanna make videos? Like maybe youtube videos rambling abt stuff while drawing but then I don’t know if anyone would even be interested in that, and besides I haven’t done video editing in…. Probably close to 20years? What program should I use? Anyone got any tips on that?

I also wanna make stuff, lil bead things like these guys I made a while ago for example

I also wanna try doll customization cause it’s kinda only been the last decade or so where I’ve allowed myself to like dolls… reasons for that being … uh… gender stuff… it’s like only now in my life, around 30 have I finally gotten somewhat close to getting a grasp on my gender and sexuality, and I never even really realized before that this was something I had a problem with? Which probably makes no sense tbh…

I also wanna do sculpting and even paint, after art school teachers made me feel like I should never paint again bcs idk man I wasn’t up to their standards 🤷

And… I wanna do all this stuff but not only does brain say ‘adhd my guy’ but there’s also my increasing health issues that… I mean I’ve always had them but I guess getting older makes it harder and harder to constantly deal with them… and that’s another thing I never really realized was so bad until back when I was in Japan in 2015-2016 as an exchange student and would have to go to the hospital increasingly often bcs of pain nobody could diagnose… aand then I was shamed for it bcs having to go to the hospital in the middle of the night sometimes was a huge hassle to the dorm staff, idk I was a problem…

Since then I’ve had two operations and will probably need to have more in the future. Also, amusingly, when I finally got diagnosed I was looking at the list of symptoms, all of which I could relate to in at least some way, but the ones that stood out, for some reason, were ‘constant exhaustion’ and then below it was ‘insomnia’ and… maybe I’m not actually lazy when I’m tired all the time? But y’know, I don’t really wanna use a chronic condition as an excuse to just do nothing, plenty of ppl have chronic problems but still do stuff with their life… but when I think like that I also remember this isn’t a ‘pain competition’ or something like that and different people just have different capabilities to deal with chronic pain and such… idk, I honestly think I’m still trying to come to terms with the realization that being exhausted and in pain all the time probably counts as some kind of disability….. but I don’t feel like I’m allowed to say I’m disabled bcs I do also have good days, you know? I should probably try harder to just DO things?

Ahem, it’s like 9AM and I haven’t been able to sleep and stuff hurts… I just wanna go do something productive but instead I’m whining on here which I probably shouldn’t do bcs this is the internet and strangers can see what you post and maybe use it against you but also sometimes you just really wanna rant into the void… or maybe more like semi-void cause idk, maybe someone reads this and can relate or give advice or just talk or something? Buuut you suck at talking… then later you feel embarrassed about your tired rambles and probably end up deleting them and just bring them up in therapy later like you should…

Anyway, until this embarrassment pops up I’m probably gonna try to find some painkillers and go draw or something -3-

[leossmoonn]

Real Artwork [Spencer Reid]

masterlist 

pairing - spencer reid x fem!reader 

type -  fluff

note / request - “first date fluff w spencer”. ok so i got this idea from @randomlimelightxxx​ (tsym btw). this museum is fictional bc there are no museums close to quantico or in quantico so lol bear with me pls. and this is pretty short, but sweet so enjoy!

summary - spencer takes you to the museum for your first date, but the painting aren’t the thing he’s really admiring 

warnings / includes - nothing really, just a little cussing and kissing lol

————

*gif isn’t mine*

You twiddled with your fingers, looking out the cab window. You couldn’t sit still for the life of you. You were beyond nervous. You were going on a date for the first time in a few months. Not only that, but you were going on a date with Doctor Spencer Reid. The Doctor Spencer Reid. The doctor that you had always stared at during the holiday parties you had been invited to that Penelope set up. The doctor that you were too shy to say hi to, even though you were all talk. 

You were surprised, to say the least, when Penelope said he had agreed to go on a date with you. Well, more like he basically timidly asked Penelope if you were single and when she said yes, he was jumping for joy and already planning your guys’s date. But you humbled yourself with the word ‘agree’. 

You couldn’t understand why he would want to go on a date with you. It’s not that you thought low of yourself - you thought quite the opposite, actually. It’s just that you two had never had an actual conversation before. The most you’ve said to each other were ‘hi’ and ‘thank you’ when he held the door open for you once. 

Nonetheless, you were very excited and ecstatic - again, to say the least - to go on this date. 

“Alright, this is your stop,” the driver interrupted your thoughts. 

You snapped your head to her, giving her a smile. “Thank you. Have a night night.” You said, opening the car door. 

“You, too, honey,” she smiled. You gave her one last goodbye smile before shutting the car door. 

You walked onto the sidewalk, standing still and staring at the museum in front of you. For your first date, Spencer had chosen it since he asked you out first. Technically Penelope had asked you, but you didn’t mind very much. You knew that he was a shy, reserved person. He had chosen the Quantico Art Museum as the location. Honestly, you were thankful he had chosen this place. You had never been there, but you always wanted to go. And now you were able to with Spencer. Plus, any date location/idea you would’ve had probably wouldn’t have been fun or interesting, anyways.

You made your way up the steps of the entrance, adjusting your purse and the straps your tank top. For you date, you had opted out for jeans and a shirt rather than a dress since you would be walking and standing the majority of the time. You had a silk, black tank top that was tucked into your jeans loosely. You wore two-inched shoes that you knew wouldn’t give you a hard time with all the standing, but still made you look dressed up. Your coat was light-weight and more like a cardigan, but it was insulated and had better pockets than a cardigan. You hoped Spencer would like your date attire.

You pulled out your phone, seeing if you had gotten any texts from Spencer to let you know that he was here. Luckily for you, he was. He had texted you that he was in the lobby with your tickets a few minutes ago. He had given you a description of his date attire, just in case you had trouble finding him. You knew that you wouldn’t have trouble with that, though. He would be the most handsome, best dressed man in the room. 

As you went to approach the door, your hands starting to get clammy. You wiped them on your coat several times before opening the door. You stepped into the museum, smiling at the few people that were exiting. Your eyes darted around the lobby as you went through the second set of doors. As you stepped inside, your eyes landing on Spencer immediately. 

And man, was he gorgeous. 

His hair was fluffy and curly around his face. He had a little bit of scruff on his face, but it shadowed his jawline well. He was wearing a plan white button-up with black slacks and a grey tie. He had his signature watch on his right wrist, and big, excited smile on face to tie his whole appearance together. You were right, he definitely was the most handsome man in the room.

Spencer’s gaze fell on you just a few moments after you found him. And let me tell you, he was stunned. No words could describe your beauty and how you made him feel. Before he saw you, he was on edge and doubts were running through his mind. But once he saw you, he relaxed immediately. His heart was still racing a mile a minute, for sure, but he felt relieved that you came and so very lucky, too.  

You smiled at you noticed his stare, biting your cheek from smiling too hard. You began to walk up to him, the muffled sound of your heels on the floor echoing with each step. As you got closer, your heart hammered in your chest. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening.  

You stopped in front of him, deciding to break the silence. 

“Hi.” You spoke. A shy, but also excited smile lighting up your features. 

His smile got impossibly bigger at the sight of yours. “Hey.” 

You two stared at each other for a few moments, admiring each other’s appearances. Spencer was the one to break the silence with a compliment. 

“You look beautiful… stunning.. um, amazing.” 

The heat rose to your neck and your gaze on him faltered. You began to find the floor a lot more interesting. “Thank you. You look handsome. Like um, really handsome.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Are you uh, ready?” 

You looked back up and nodded in reply. 

“Great. Uh, let’s check in. Have you ever been here before?” He asked, getting out the tickets from his pocket. 

“No, but I’ve always wanted to go,” you answered. 

“This place is so cool. It's one of my favourite museums, besides the science museum,” he chuckled. 

You smiled at his little laugh. “Well, I’m glad I got to go here with you.”

The tips of his ears turned pink and he looked down shyly. You two walked up to the front desk. Spencer handed the man your tickets. The man scanned them, handing the tickets and two red-coloured paper bracelets. 

“Put these on so our staff know you’ve been checked in. Do you two need a map of the museum?” The man asked. 

Spencer looked to you for the answer. You glanced at him, then back at the man. 

“No, thank you. He’s been here a bunch of times, he can be the tour guide,” you answered, nudging Spencer slightly. 

The man and Spencer smiled at your reply. 

“Alright, sounds good. You two enjoy your visit,” the man said. 

You and Spencer said your ‘thank you’s’, walking away from the desk. You two stopped next to a pillar, putting on your bracelets. 

“Thank you for buying my ticket, by the way,” you said. 

“No problem. I uh, I heard that if a guy asks the girl on the first date, then he should pay,” he explained sheepishly. 

You grinned, “Ah. Well, very true.”

He smiled back at you for a few moments, admiring your features once more. You two began walking again, going to the first exhibit that housed contemporary paintings. You admired a painting of what looked like to be a crowd of people dancing when Spencer spoke. 

“This artist died when he was only 37.”

Your brows raised and you looked to him. “What happened?”

“Car accident,” he explained. “Wow,” you frowned. “How unfortunate.” “Yeah. He painted this when he was only 16.”

“Talented guy,” you remarked, looking back at the painting. 

Spencer nodded in agreement, looking back at the painting, but sneaking glances at you every other second. 

You two moved on to different sections, making conversation to get to know each other. Spencer listened to you as you talked about your childhood. As he listened, he tried to keep his staring to a normal amount, but he couldn’t. Something about you was so addicting to look at. He didn’t know if it was the way you talked with your hands, the way your lips would spread into a smile when describing a happy memory, the way your eyes would light up, too. You were just so enticing.   

You noticed his stares and tried to fight off the butterflies that were swarming in your stomach. No guy had ever paid this much attention to you before. Especially not a guy like Spencer. There were times where his stare was just burning into your side, and it caused you to stutter on your words a little. 

“S-So, um,” you spoke, trying to gather your train of thought. 

Spencer just kept staring, honestly completely oblivious to how he was making you feel. 

“So um, that’s me,” you finished off with a chuckle. Spencer smiled, “Very interesting stuff.”

“No,” you shook your head, lowering your head. “No, I’m serious. I mean, i’ve never heard of someone breaking that many bones in such a short span of time,” he teased. 

You let out a hearty laugh, nodding your head and looking back up. “Yeah, well, I was a routy kid.”

Spencer smiled at your response, turning his head back to the paintings. You let out a little breath of relief. It’s not that you didn't like him staring at you. No, you loved it, actually. It was just so unexpected and you at times you wondered if there was something on your face. You pushed your doubts away, knowing that if that was true, surely Spencer would have said something. 

You decided to make a little move of your own, though. You two went up to the second floor, stepping in the elevator. You two were the only ones in there and after Spencer pressed the number two button, you moved your hand so it touched his. 

Spencer froze once he felt your hand on his. You noticed his reaction, but didn’t pull away. Instead, you slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers together. You scooted closer to him so your shoulders were touching. You were looking down at the floor as Spencer was looked at you, surprise written all over his face. It hadn’t expected to be touched tonight. Especially not by you. He didn’t mind it, though, not at all. 

He felt himself relax into into your touch, leaning against your arm slightly. A big smile spread across his face as you lifted your head, looking at him. You noticed his smile and mirrored it. You two didn’t say anything, the looks in your eyes already speaking the words for yourselves.  

The elevator door opened and you two stepped out hand-in-hand. Content smiles rested on both of your faces as you went to the next exhibit. The rest of the night you two kept close like this. You were either holding hands or touching arms. You even rested your head on his shoulder once while admiring a painting of two lovers kissing and surrounded by nature. 

It was at this moment where Spencer couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Not like he could before, but he literally couldn’t. His eyes were glued to you. You looked so cute with your cheek against his shoulder, your eyes bright and wide as you looked over the painting. Your body was warm and made him feel safe and secure in the big museum, something he rarely felt in his daily life. Not to mention, you looked great next to him. You two fit perfectly together. 

“Such a pretty piece of artwork,” you mumbled. 

Spencer nodded, still looking down at you. “Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

You looked up at, surprised to see him staring at you. Your eyes widened once you realised that he wasn’t talking about the painting, but that he was talking about you. You hoped, at least. You decided to ask him to confirm your beliefs. 

“W-What?” You squeaked. 

Spencer smiled at you, looking deep into your eyes. “I said… You’re beautiful.”

Your knees buckled and you began to fall, but Spencer was quick too catch you. His hands went around your waist and your heart started racing impossibly faster. You also caught yourself on his shoulders, your hands gripping his shirt as he pulled you back on your feet. Your gaze fell on his lips and you licked your own, imagining how it would be to kiss him. Your eyes trailed back up to his eyes, your whole body now getting warm in embarrassment. 

“Sorry. I can be pretty clumsy,” you chuckled. 

“It’s alright. Me, too,” he gave you a soft smile. 

You nodded, your eyes finding their way back to his lips. Spencer noticed and started to lean in. He had been wanting to kiss you all night and he found that now would be the prefect chance.  

You noticed him leaning in and you did the same, meeting him halfway. You pressed your lips to him gently. You kissed him, quietly moaning at the feeling. Spencer’s hands gripped your waist and your hands made their way to the back of his neck, entangling your fingers in his curl, soft hair. Kissing him felt so damn good.   

You were the first to pull away, opening your eyes and looking at his. A smile crept on your face as the realisation of what you had just done entered your mind.

“You’re a lot more forward than I thought,” you remarked. 

“Sometimes people can surprise you,” he grinned. You chuckled in agreement with his comment. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me this whole time?”

“Y-You noticed that?” Spencer asked, suddenly growing shy. 

“Well, it wasn’t very subtle,” you giggled. 

Spencer smiled softly at your laugh. “Yeah, I have been staring at you the whole night.”

“Any reason?” You hummed, running your hands through his locks. 

“Because…” his voice trailed off. He had a reason he just didn’t want it to seem corny. “Well, because you’re the real artwork here.”

You giggled at his answer, feeling your heart flutter 

“What? Was that cheesy?” He asked.  

“A little?” You nodded. “But cute, nonetheless. Thank you.”

“Well, it’s true,” he shrugged. 

You smiled brightly and leaned up to place a sweet kiss to his lips. “Well, wanna keep on admiring me while I admire the paintings, and possibly you?”

Spencer laughed, nodding his head. “I’d love to.”

————

bye bc this sucks lol

Like and Reblog!

taglist form

@itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @calm-and-doctor​

@kaitieskidmore1​ 

[written-beyond-the-grave]

Mikaelsons Black History Month

First off, I’m starting by saying that even though it is no longer Black history month it will always be melanin everyday and black people every day. And everything else under the sun, and if you don’t like it then the exit is to your left. Everything you own in the box to the left

Being part of the Mikaelsons is very fickle business and be some bs. Like really, you’re here with supernatural beings who are over 1000 years old. Who have traveled the world, gained endless knowledge, seen a lot of bloodshed, but you know what they haven’t seen? Their token human (black ofc) being ignant for black history month, I mean who even fully celebrates? How does one even celebrate?

Granted, they’re not racist. But with the writing Julie Pleck did she was playing honestly. That was the worst writing I've ever seen since who knows when. Maybe the nine lives of Chloe king or something? But in my originals universe they were probably racist in the beginning to an extent then grew out of it.

Anyways, they never met someone who celebrated until they met you!

Now repeat after me: I’m black y’all, and I’m black y’all. And I’m black and black and black y’all! FYM

Now…. picture this: A moderately quiet day in the Mikaelson household. Kol is minding his business for once, Rebekah is trying to find the perfect pics for her next instagram post, Elijah is enjoying a good read, and Klaus is organizing his art materials. But then here comes you, the human, opening the door and walking right in like you pay bills (none of them do but you get the picture) in the midst of the most deadly people. Walking in and greeting everyone, walking in with the most hotep, Dr. Umar bullshit getup they ever seen. Coming to America headass.

They recognize your footsteps from a mile away, so when you walk into the kitchen and no one really looks up at first it’ll be a sight to see a whole ass pelted lion on your back. The kente cloth hat (no idea the actual name for it, sorry babes), a saber tooth necklace (for my mans T’Challa), and the red stiletto nails with the afro out here banging.

SHEEEEEEEEESH

Once Elijah is done with his page he looks up to greet you, but then stops… Bitch, fuck is you wearing? This was worlds away from the sweats, and skinny jeans you wore on the daily.

“Greetings Y/N you look…. Fashionable.” Mans didn’t know what to say. Did he miss something about your Africna roots? Was there a holiday he hadn’t heard of, doubt it, but what else was there?

“Thank you Elijah.” You fluff out your lion pelt for added effect, if there was ever going to be one time you outdo the Mikaelsons’ especially Elijah in being dramatic with a coat or cloak of somesort, it would be now.

At this point the Kol and Rebekah have already looked up and were confused. Why are you dressed like that?

Kol is the first one to speak up “Darling, Rebekah likes a fashion show more than anyone, but why do you have a lion… on your shoulder.”

Lifting up your large ass shades you supplied an answer: “Black History Month”

They all looked at each other… they didn’t get it. Like they know what it is, but never actually understood how to celebrate and all that nor did they ever actually give it mind. When you saw that they weren’t making a connection, you started phase 1.

“Alexa, you know what to do.”

And there goes their manor playing: NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA I’M ONE HUNDRED PERCENT NIGGA

LMFAOOOOO you got the white people shook. Klaus just dropped one of his expensive ass bottles of art sealants and is vamp speeding to the kitchen to figure out what the hell is going on. Elijah having a mid century crisis on how tf they even found you and deemed you worthy of being in their presence so casually. Kol is having fun in the back, still laughing at your get up. And Rebekah wishes she went to the mall instead, she wanted a girl bestie and got you instead rip

“WHAT IN BLAZES- Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DO- WHAT ARE YOU WEARING! ALEXA STOP THE MUSIC-” And the big bad wolf has arrived. You put your finger to Klaus’ lips which stuns him bc… you’re still HOOOMAN like damn, death wish much? And you look this man, straight in his mit and say “Looks at, look at me” and pause for dramatic affect, “I am the captain now”

Room silent as hell till Kol starts cackling

You’ve made Dr. Umar proud, the ancestors are shining on you once again

With that you lead into a whole speech about the black struggle and black history month, bottom line: REPARATIONS. Because being the only nigga in the Mikaelsons (we don’t claim Marcel) is exhausting, white people shit everyday that you complain about in their faces

TBH at this point they’re indulging you in this escapade.

First victim is Elijah, you ask for his wallet. He gives you a look, I mean he does technically give you what you want and whatever (when y’all dating, refer back to my dating Elijah post), so he ask you why. Reparations sis why, but then you stop yourself. This man gives you his wallet every other day, half the time you not even asking. What could you rob this man of…. Ah. You ask him for the deed of one of his estates in Prague, why? Because you bitches can’t even spell Prague. And under section S line 45 subsection Y it does state that estates are eligible for reparations. Fuck 40 acres and a mule, you got 300 acres, some stallions in the back, a quite possibly haunted mansion, and a heavy dicked (yeah I said it, a sis been trying to reality shift) original who will turn you out by the end of the day and the end of the month…. Wait till women's history month boo

We know his pockets figgity fat, and it would be figgity wack to not get some

Ngl you take Kol with you so he can buy you food. Granted, he knows what you’re doing, but if he’s going to spend money on anything it will be thawed and it will be music. However, one thing leads to another and you’re both at Wal-Mart waiting to find a parking spot. You stole one off a white minivan trying to move in. Not thinking anything of it because who in this small ass Mystic Falls ass, clown ass town really about it? Apparently Karen.

But you know who else what about it? Kol (tbh mans had nothing but time, and he claims you so why tf not.) he out here NY stomping on her and coming at her for badly glued extensions. Cheap ass bitch, ain’t even blend in correctly.

After that Kol and you left with some groceries, a new story to tell, and a chopped cheese.

With Klaus, he frfr wasn’t finna do shit. Being ordered my a human? Lmfao, go find another simp sis. But… once you suggest that his art skills may not be up to par on what you have in mind as a new family room piece for your house he’s all ears. He knows what you’re doing, but… he still wants to prove you wrong. But anyways, you give him a theme… reverse racism. IK y’all, it’s not a thing, but mans has ideas. And he outdoes himself. That and the recreation of the moorish chief bc that man...mmmmm that man was giving.

Ok so Google wanna hoe me, but there was a painting of a black man in a kkk cloak and behind him were white people being hung from a tree. Say what you want, but that photo was fire. If any of you seen it please share it below.

Anyways

Rebekah tbh wants no part in this, but I feel like she’d gave when you ask her to give you all the finest dresses bc it’s an excuse to exhaust Klaus’ money.

Through the month you give the Mikaelsons a run for their money, and maybe sanity. Klaus is in the back trying to research who tf Dr. Umar is and why is he your inspiration

They had to pull you back when the sheriff asked you for your ID. You ask why you needed white man paperwork!

You are pleasing the spirits, what bonnie could never do lmfaooooo. The powers of you enemies aren’t prospering this month nor next month.

You’re not poor this month, anything you poor of is pouring a little more (bars nigga)

LMFAOOOO imaging asking the fam to go to paris, like, they not invited it’s a self trip funded my the Mikaelson Y/N Trust Fund of Public Decency ™

Klaus would be the first one to speak because this man is TIRED, “Love, why do you need a trip to paris? What’s in Paris?”

Knowing better, you look to Kol to answer the question, “I don’t know, Kol, who’s in Paris?” Niggas b. Niggas in paris…. Lemme chill

LMFAOOO enjoy

[draceempressa]

TW chapters before, have always been social and psychological, but chapter 5 in particular is a huge middle finger to stereotype-and common beliefs/views of stereotypes. 

Many assumes Vil’s backstory involved him being poor, but Kalim already proves just because you’re rich doesn’t mean your life have no problem. And before the chapter starts, many people antagonize Vil for he is harsh towards Epel, and he’s the prettily elegant one, “the mean girl”, in haters’ words, when Leona and Idia, who are objectively bigger jerks, who are understandably more disliked in-universe, get passed in the fandom for they are relatable/more masculine/boyish. Yes, ugly people have their own problem. That doesn’t mean pretty people don’t have their problem, ranging from being harassed, prejudiced as superficial or being bitch, etc.

Media and culture, for years, have been painting masculinity as strength and femininity as weakness, lawful is bad and chaotic is good, the beautiful/elegant people is wrong and the cute ones are innocent/on the right side. 

Riddle already have it bad for he is lawful, but Vil has it worse for he is not only lawful, but also being feminine and pretty. Not to say we have to be unreasonably lawful like Riddle or super strict like Vil, what’s I’m trying to say is, the mindset of law and femininity is purely bad and chaos and masculinity is purely good is wrong-though,  generally “pure” mindset is wrong. 

Related to this, TW actually run on gray morality, not black and white. You’re too black and you get hated (like Leona and Idia) , but if you’re too white you get laughed (like Deuce, Jack, Kalim) And it’s fine. Everyone can be both wrong and right in different times , and that’s how it is in real life too. Nobody is pure evil nor they are pure good . Purity  (in concept and principle)is never good actually.

Many people are rooting for Epel for the points above, for he is both chaotic and want to be masculine, and antagonize the pretty, lawful and feminine Vil, but overtime fandom are proven to be wrong. Pome chapter is huge callout for  the stereotyping mindset, as well, the previous points. What Epel wants isn’t “for people to look past his looks”, it’s “to be as masculine as possible in both looks and personality” . He is not fighting prejudice, he is simply giving in to the idea of toxic masculinity. He doesn’t want people to think he’s a badass despite his look, he want to be beefy so ppl can tell he’s a badass in first glance.  His idea of masculinity is to talk shit to people , be beefy as possible, to pick fights and only fight with fists. He is projecting the idea of masculinity to Jack, like how he says he wants to be beefy as Jack. It’s like when girls using a model, or basically someone else, to be her base of ideal beauty, which is equally unhealthy. It’s not fine even if it’s boys who do it, as it’s still not accepting who you actually are. 

Speaking about Jack, he too is a victim of prejudice. In his robe story, Ace is surprised he’s from Pyroxene and not the Savannah., implying the prejudice beastmen only come from the savannah (and gladly Riddle immediately calls Ace out for it),  in his voice lines, he is offended by  Ruggie’s disbelief reaction when he says he never got red mark in exams, and he is also offended when MC is shocked he says he want to go to the library, implying the prejudice “beefy men must be brainless muscle”. Jack, is still proud of his beastmen heritage and is sporty and active, but he is also fighting prejudice of beefy men are dumbasses by studying as hard as he does his physical exercises. 

We are also fed by culture and media that the word “ugly” and “beautiful” is limited to just visual things, when Pomefiore, Rook and Vil makes it clear “beauty” is everything that can be your advantage/power or your every good trait (like being unyielding, having bond and understanding others, and having special code of conduct). Which it means, the opposite also applies-that the word “ugly”  Vil mentioned to himself before his overblot is more referring to his other traits. That he finally cheats, that he is weak and gives in to his stress-if he thinks strength is beautiful then he must thought weakness is ugly. 

Not to say looks doesn’t matter, because it is, as we humans are visual creatures, and if visuals don’t matter, we don’t only wouldn’t have fashion or beauty care products, or visual arts, but even visual informations like newspapers, books, or even socmed pages, and fashion can be a form of self expression. The problem is when people don’t use their brain and see past through someone’s looks. Looks is part of one’s identity, but it’s not all there is to them.

Riddle paints himself as the judge and executioner, not only establishing law of the Queen of Hearts but also punishes people who crossed her rules on the place with his UM and decapitating them from their magic. Vil, meanwhile, paints himself as a tutor. He’s strict, but he’s not lawful for the sake of law. He seeks to help people grow, to taught people things, but being strict teacher he is, he refuses to teach in first go, letting you try your own method first (Deuce’s lab coat story),or that  when he agrees to help, he will teach you how to do it instead of doing it and gives you the final result (Jamil’s dorm uniform) . He is explicitly nicer to people who are willing to learn (his own Halloween card) Alternatively, he can be pestered to help (Halloween, Malleus pretty much pestering him with the whole western dragon vs eastern dragon difference for one hour ), or,despite all his complaints, he will help anyway (Ghost Marriage, Vil mentions Idia often asks for his help) . He also congratulates ppl who did grow well, even if they did beat him. (fairy gala ending, Epel when finally admitting cuteness is advantage too, Deuce right after he beats him) ,  he is fine with people hating him as long they actually develop themselves-that he thinks his responsibility is to help ppl grow, not to make ppl simply adore him (his own dorm uniform)And he also breaks the pattern of great seven incarnate harassing MC and gets gradually more hostile about it. He can also appreciate other’s kindness (his own robe story), as well strong point (PE voice line, he openly admits Epel’s strong point in flying), and can even show some sympathy (not empathy ) (Ortho’s ceremony gear)

Leona insults others to feed his superiority inferiority complex and knows where it hurt (like calling Riddle Red Midget or bastard octopus to Azul-note, that was the insult Azul used on himself on his self deprecating moment after his overblot) , Vil insults other as the ones he deems unworthy yet to call with name, but potatoes, French for potatoes is “earth’s apple”, also back in the day ppl are scared to eat potatoes bc they are still related to nightshade/belladonna and said to be devil’s plant , only after they get past the prejudice they eat potatoes. So yeah if he call you by name , it means he already acknowledge you to certain degree, and if he still uses vegetables he’s still deems you unworthy-no romantic hc blogs it’s not what he will call his s/o

Fandom complained, “save Epel, he doesn’t fit in Pomefiore, and he’s stuck” but is he? He did , in fact, have a choice, mentioned in Jade’s dorm uniform by Vil “You know how to change dorms, right Epel?” It’s by his  own admission he stays in Pomefiore bc his pride to prove Vil wrong that “cute isn’t a strength on its own”  Besides, Pome isn’t just about being yourself (despite being art neurodivergent and defying gender norms), it’s also not about picking your fight-instead, it’s about picking the method.

Again, we are fed to the idea femininity is weak by other media and culture. In TW,yes,  Vil is obectively the most feminine of TW cast, but weak? Definitely not.He can beat the beefy guys physically (PE uniform voice line), easily, and magically, he is strong enough to be able to make barrier than can protect people from MALLEUS (Cater halloween) , and when he’s overblot, he is the only one so far you failed to beat until Deuce used the counterattack using his own magic. Kalim isn’t joking or is in the clouds when he says Vil is one of the strongest mage of the school.

Yes, Yana says fuck patterns and stereotypes, but it’s not like she pulls plot twists randomly out of her ass.She always put foreshadowings first. Vil being bullying victim already mentioned as early as his robe story,, that the overblot cause is always something that is already problem to them even BEFORE NRC-Epel was able to curb people before NRC and get away with being a jerk, it wasn’t until Vil beat him in opening day that he started to be stressed about the whole manner thing.  that he doesn’t like things that doesn’t last from his school uniform, and the previous mentions of Vil’s tutor traits above that he’s not as malicious , not just the mean girl fandom make him to be. Chapter titles always refer to the local great seven incarnate, not specifically the prefect. “Desert’s Tactician” is clearly Jamil, not Kalim.Being a strategist is certainly not Kalim’s trait. Chapter title not referring to him, he wasn’t stressed before NRC, and the blot dripping scene happes without him, why the surprise it’s not Epel who overblot ? the build up is all there.

[dani-escribe]

A Place To Call Home

Chapter 1 

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F! Reader 

Wordcount: 1,594 

Summary:  Who would have known that a day at the art museum could lead to meeting an extremely handsome FBI Agent ;)

Warnings:  An incredible amount of fluff (seriously, like cotton candy level). SLOW BURN (buckle up for the ride!). Reader is a pediatric nurse, so a few mentions of kids and medical procedures in later chapters. 

A/N:  Thanks so much for reading and I really hope you like it! This is my comeback into writing and I am honestly so excited to keep writing this series. After watching the Mentalist and seeing how it ended I wanted to give our precious Marcus a happy ending (this is totally self-indulgent bc why not!). I want to thank @lowlights @fastandfeminist @wbl75 for being my beta readers and for all of their support. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :) 

Read here on ao3 

You didn't know what possessed you to go visit the art museum on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, but you’re sure glad you went. You hadn't really had time to go to many museums in the last couple of years and wanted to really take in the experience. You’d been walking around looking at all of the intricate paintings and reading the descriptions of each one to try to understand what they were about when you saw a man that fit right in with the artwork. His pensive stance and deep brown eyes drew you in right away. 

He was reading the description of the painting in front of him. He let out a short stifled laugh as if he knew something more about the painting that wasn't included in the description. The grey suit and black tie he was wearing made you wonder if he might be here on a date with someone or if he worked here. You were truly hoping that it was the latter of the two.

 When you noticed that you had been staring at him for a creepy amount of time, you started to turn away, and in that exact moment he seemed to catch your eye. The way that he smiled made it seem like the world stopped for a short second. Before your flirty gaze turned into an awkward stare, you gave him a smile back and retreated to look at other artwork. 

Walking around the other exhibits and looking at the sculptures and canvases from different time periods you began to think about all the wonders that you missed moving around as a kid. Your parents were teachers/potters and their jobs came with the occasional relocation to different places. They said that while teaching was their passion, ceramics had been their first true love. This meant that while you were usually in a stable place for a few years, during summer you and your sibling moved around with them to sell their art in different fairs. While you had seen and sold a lot of different types of art over the years, you never really had much time to appreciate it. 

Your parents had been incredible in providing for you, and had only moved to ensure you had the best opportunities; but you always wondered about the experiences that you missed while being in a hurry to assimilate for half of your life. You knew that their teaching jobs didn't pay much, and that they used the money they got from their art to help cover the bills. This is why you had decided to move close to your family after starting a job at a local hospital in order to find a permanent place for yourself, a place that you could call home. 

After making sure to see all of the exhibits at least once, you walked out of the museum with a sense of satisfaction: one, because you felt like you were catching up on lost time, and two, because of the interaction that you had had with a handsome stranger. 

One of the best things was that the drive back to your new apartment from the museum, and pretty much everything else, was only about 5 minutes (10 if you counted traffic during rush hour). This also meant that everything was within walkable distance, which was also good because you sure as hell needed to start buying some supplies if you were going to clean up the pile of unpacked boxes at your new apartment. 

As the night went on you were able to get most of your unpacking done, and you thought back to the stranger with those big brown eyes and gorgeous smile. He had a kind smile, one that made you feel like you could trust him, which was rare in a man you had just met. God, not only that but the suit that he had on made him seem like he was straight out of a James Bond movie. While putting away the last of your clothing, the blue scrubs that you had bought for your new job fell from the pile that you were carrying. This was enough to snap you out of your train of thought. You really needed to focus on thinking about that instead of daydreaming about a person you haven't even talked to, even if he had some of the cutest dimples you had seen. After trying to get him out of your thoughts unsuccessfully, you figured that it was either stressing about your new job or thinking about him. Ultimately you decided that a little daydreaming couldn't hurt too much. You wondered if you would ever see him again, and hoped that by some twist of fate you would. 

--- 

With your job starting today you figured it would be a sign of good comradery to bring your new coworkers some coffee from the cute diner down the street. Also, you found social interactions to be quite tricky at first and an ice breaker couldn't seem to hurt. Plus who doesn't like free breakfast, especially on a Monday morning right? 

As you got dressed in your blue scrubs you headed for the door a whole hour early to avoid being late and to try to make a good impression. Making sure to note as you entered the diner to grab some scones or muffins for those who don’t like coffee, you accidentally stumbled into the man exiting with his coffee. The splash drenched his tie and shirt, only leaving his pants unscathed. Starting to profusely apologize and grabbing a handful of napkins to clean up the mess, you almost missed the fact that the brown eyes that were looking at you right now were the same ones that had held your gaze in the museum. 

“I am so sorry, I can totally pay for your dry cleaning,” you gasped, both out of embarrassment and amazement that you were seeing the gorgeous stranger that had plagued your mind for the past couple of days. 

“No worries at all. I actually needed an excuse to get out of wearing this tie that I got as a gift last year, so to think of it you really saved me,” he let out a chuckle. Now that you're looking at it, it is a very… bold choice of clothing. It was a striped neon tie with pink and orange interchanging lines. 

“I got it as an office exchange party gift and now have the perfect excuse to change out of it.” Those killer dimples were showing along with the smile he gave you that helped to put you at ease. 

“Well at least let me replace your coffee,” you said with a laugh at his honesty. 

You went back inside to pay for his and your coffee orders and got to talking a bit before your orders were out. 

“So what brings you around here, besides the coffee of course. I haven't really seen you here before,” he stated as he moved slightly closer to hear your answer over the clinking of cutlery and dishes. 

“Oh I actually just moved near here. I’m starting today at the nearby hospital as a pediatric nurse. ” His proximity made you suddenly aware of how tall he was. He had at least a few good inches on you, and he leaned in to listen when you spoke. This didn’t help with your already flustered state to say the least. 

“That sounds really exciting, congrats! The closest I get with kids at my job is the ones on an oil painting,” his eyes crinkled a bit as he laughed. 

“Yeah, I totally understand. Little kids are such a wonder but working with them is not for everyone,” you chimed in with a bit of a laugh “Are you a curator then, is that why you were at the museum the other day?” You asked with a hope that he hadn't been there with anyone as a date. 

“Oh no, I actually work with the FBI. I’m in the art crimes division. I was doing research on a new case which is why I was down in the museum. Some inspiration never hurts.” Now it was your turn to be amazed. You didn’t actually think he would be an agent like James Bond, but you weren’t complaining. 

“I guess it doesn't hurt that it's really close to here too huh.” You added noting that it was a bit serendipitous to have met him twice in a few days within the same five mile radius. 

Just as you were about to say something else your name was called and your orders came out. When you were about to turn to leave he called to you. 

“I never did get your name,” he noted before heading out. 

You told him your name and he repeated it in a way that made it seem like he was trying it out. 

“And I feel like the least I can do is learn the name of the person who I so viciously attacked with a coffee cup.” You stated as you gave him a sheepish smile.  

He let out a short laugh and replied, “The name of the person who you saved from having to continue wearing a highlighter tie is Marcus.” You shook your head at his joke and turned to leave. 

As you grabbed the door handle you took one last look back and said “hope to see you around, Marcus.” You waved and parted ways to head in for your first day of work.

[multiplefandomsblog]

Can i request how different idv characters would act as roommates? Eli, Helena, Luca, Edgar, Vera, Norton and Fiona if thats alright with you :DDD

warnings? kinda suggestive, crack fic, cussing

mod toby and mod bread helped me do this fic, its a bit all over the place but it was fun so no regrets

Eli Clark

I feel like being roommates with eli would be pretty pleasant

everything would be clean all the time

he’s the type of kid that everyone wants on their team because of how good he is at everything

so if you scored a roomie like him, you got super lucky

if you left a mess he wouldn’t get mad, he would probably just clean it up himself and leave a sticky note that said to clean up ur mess next time(but not like, passive aggressively)

ofc you would clean up after the cute sticky note, bc who can say no to this bb? 

If you don’t clean up tho, brooke rose will probably shit on your hair when u sleep

tbh you’ve always wondered what eli looked like without his eye mask

so one time when Eli was sleeping, you went next to his bed to try and take his eye mask off and see what he looks like.

You took off the mask and found out it was a dummy 

a few seconds later you heard footsteps and you turned around

Eli came up behind you and knocked you out with a bat

you two don’t speak of that day.

Brooke kept screeching last night, and you got no sleep at all, so I guess we’re having chicken for dinner 

Unless you had a good reason, then eli and brooke prob won’t mind cleaning up after u

I can imagine you going back to your shared room in the manor after a rough match and seeing eli just sweeping the room in an apron and a cloth covering his hair looking like cinderella

“Honey, I’m home!”

basically if you lived with eli, you basically had a husband/mom/wife???

If you came back to the manor, beaten up and bruised from the last match he would prob pester you and nag you

while cleaning up you wounds he would prob say, “You have to be more careful, im always worrying. You’re gonna give your mom a heart attack!”

seriously tho, don’t worry this bb, he would actually have a heart attack

Helena Adams

i think living with helena would probably feel like some sort of kdrama

she might be a bit clumsy and trip over a few things, falling into your arms bc of her blindness

though she might be doing it on purpose

If you moved things in the room without telling her, she would probably get mad

for example, you move the sofa chair a little bit to the right bc you thought it looked better

helena walks in the room, sits down on the sofa chair and ends up accidentally sitting on the sofa chair arm rest instead

resulting in her bottom hurting and a very long talk with you

she got her revenge weeks later

she had asked you to check under her bed for monsters because she couldn’t do it herself

you were teasing her for still being afraid of monsters but looked underneath anyways

low and behold, 

she put a mirror there.

will even wack you with her cane if you’re being annoying

Her cane is pretty affective in shutting you up lol only sometimes

“Hey Helena, are you braille? ‘cause i can read you like a book when i touch yo-” *wack* *moans*

helena: ...

you: ...

helena: ...im leaving

you: heleNA WAIT-

One time everyone at the manor was celebrating Helena’s birthday with a piñata, 2 seconds later she was beating the shit out of Luca with her cane

even after everyone’s been yelling that he wasn’t the piñata

One time you and Helena had a staring contest because you were both bored.

She won.

sometimes to get her close to you, you would sit on the sofa chair super quietly and still

And then you’d wait for her to come and sit on your lap thinking it was the chair

and it would work 

she would probably sit on your lap for a few minutes, confused as to why the chair felt elevated

and then she would feel your arms snake around her waist

and she would- “whAT THE FUCK- SCREEEEEEE”

she would probably make a cute bird noise and then just sit there, not knowing if she should leave or not

in her head, “THEIR LAP IS SO WARM OH MY GOD WHY DIDN’T THIS HAPPEN SOONER”

in real life, “let go of me you pathetic mortal”

you’d beg her to stay on ur lap longer and she would cave in

but she didn’t stay because she liked you! baka

Luca Balsa

living with luca will probably be the opposite of eli’s

messes, everywhere

inventions, everywhere

at one point though you had a sneaking suspicion he might be a bunch of rats.

 you saw him outside crouching beside you guys’ room with a bunch of rats coming out his sleeve and running into a crack in the building

“its for science!”

he’s also super scared of helena

Luca doesn’t like to admit it, but he got his purple eye from Helena after he made a bad pick-up line for the blind. 

She’s been chanting “one of us” and threatening to “finish the job” ever since.

he’s basically a big baby that needs to be taken care of

i feel like he might break down sometimes from not doing his invention right, or feeling insecure

but i guess his rats are there to help

but since he had a roomie, he wouldn’t be able to cry on his own

and its a good thing because he doesnt have to do everything by himself anymore

he learns to ask for help when living with you

you’d help him through his episodes and he would slowly start to become more reliant on you

if he was feeling a bit moody, he would unconsciously try to find you to cuddle with

if you lived with him, you’d probably have to be very responsible

luca would have his own bed that he would never sleep in because he wouldn’t be able to sleep without you in his arms

everytime he shifts in bed, you’d feel a tiny shock

it kinda bothered you so

you pranked Luca by touching him with those zappy ring things you’d get from a dollar store.

You just wanted that mother fucker to get a taste of his own medicine

he would basically be a puppy that follow you around, he would constantly old your head

probably refers to you as his

like if you downed a shot that barmaid made for you, he would be like, “EYYYY THATS MY BABy-heurghrhgh”

now you have a drunk baby that you have to take care of

You tried giving luca a shower afterwards, now you know how it feels getting electrocuted.

And trust me, Luca and water do not mix.

good luck have fun

Edgar Valden

living with edgar would consist of 

1. edgar being super specific of what was his and what you can’t touch

2. big tsundere baby

3. sketches of you hiding in his sketch book

if you lived with edgar, you’d have to be super patient with his nagging or else you’d have to find a new roomie

he’s constantly nagging you

but if you are tired of it and give him the silent treatment, he’d probably just nag you even more for attention

you need to give this man attention or else

you ignored him for a whole day once because he said something mean

he decided to give you some milk and cookies as an apology

the ‘milk’ was his muddy paint water and the cookies were expired

i feel like one day you two would be arguing about who moved his stuff, your argument being he unconsciously moved his stuff, his argument being you moved his stuff

you guys were so heated up you didn’t notice how close you two were getting

edgar ended up pouncing on you like a feral dog

though when you woke up, you both agreed that you ended up winning the argument

when you’re reading or just doing nothing, he’d ask to sketch you or paint you

i-its not because he thinks you’re beautiful or anything

its just because he thinks that your whole self is aesthetically pleasing and pleasing to the eye- but not because he thinks you’re pretty!

sometimes when he was super focused on his art, he wouldn’t notice your figure slowly approach him

you’d boop his nose and watch as he froze

wh- hoW DARE YOU LAY YOUR HANDS ON A VALDEN

secretly tho, he really loves it when you do that.

like

do it more

please or not whatever

Vera Nair

Vera would probably be a bit anxious when she heard she was gonna get a roomie

but she would do her best to be at her best behaviour

she’s very well mannered and is very polite

she’d kinda be the type to silently care for you

like, she’d notice the little things that bothered you and made sure they wouldn’t bother you ever again

like, if you stubbed your toe alot, she would give everything that you could stub your toe with, rubber covers or socks

but she wouldn’t tell you it was her even though it was obviously her

if you fell asleep on your desk instead of your bed, she would probably but a blanket on ur shoulders and a pillow underneath where you left your head

she’s the thoughtful type

before you went for matches, she’d give you a cheek kiss for good luck

and if you did the same, she would probably play it cool but then panic a second later.

theykissedmetheykissedmetheykissedme-

im sorry this is short idk what to do for her-

Norton Campbell

oh BOY

once norton starts to warm up to you, you guys are basically married

like there was no proposal, just “do you take this man to be your husband- you can’t say no”

he would probably take care of you alot

even when you didn’t need it

i can do it mysel- no

but actually, before he warmed up to you he was pretty cold, 

he felt himself growing feelings for you

and he didn’t want to because he was afraid he would lose you and he would have to go through the heartbreak of losing someone all over again

he would leave the room to go hang out somewhere else

he would keep his distance and not talk with you much

but there was this one time where you woke up with him around you, you just pretended you didn’t wake up and relished in the feeling

it took some time, but eventually he warmed up to you

though he still constantly worries about you, he doesn’t want you to get hurt

during matches he would always take hits for you, and just stay closer to you in general

he wanted to make sure you got back to the manor safely, it didn’t matter if he was sent back via rocket chair

he always put you as his #1 priority

he also gets jealous super easily, he’s scared someone will swoop you away from him

so to make sure everyone knows that you belong to him, he’d give you his clothes to wear

not only do his clothes look adorable on you, everyone will know that you’re his

probably pester you a lot if you tripped or got a paper cut

“yoU COULD HAVE DIED” “IT WAS A PAPER CUT”

Once, Norton got stuck to the fridge like a magnet for 5 hours

He’s been using that as an excuse to force you to bring him his snacks every since.

pick up lines are a definite yes

sometimes you’d be shitting and you’d hear outside the bathroom door a faint,

“My love for you is like Diarrhea.” “norton what the fuck im shitting-” “i just can’t hold it in” cue camera zooming in on his face and him smirking into the camera “OH MY GOD WHY”

like Luca, his bed is useless. he always needs you in his arms when sleeping, he wants to protect you and just feel you closer to him

puts him at ease

kisses? hell yes.

if you had to go to a match without him he would send you off with a ton of gross wet kisses on your face ew

He might even try to seduce you into staying

“norton I’m gonna lose morality points!” “fuck your morality points, i wanna smash”

Fiona Gilman

I feel like fiona would probably super psyched when she heard about sharing rooms with you

I headcanon her to be super bubbly and social but when she is alone with her thoughts she’d probably regret everything 

“why did i say that why did i say that why did i say that-”

probably prays to god, “please kill me”

she tries her best to make sure you’re comfortable

she doesnt make a big mess and she makes sure she cleans up after herself, overall a pretty cool roommate

except for those times for when she tries to babtize you while you’re showering-

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING” “THE LORD SHALL CLEANSE YOUR SOUL WITH HOLY WATER-” “what the f- iS THIS ALCOHOL???”

this has happened too many times^^^

one time she accidentally created an ultra portal in the toilet. 

Y’all still have no idea where it leads, and no intent of finding out. 

Although, Kreacher has been complaining of some nasty stuff appearing in his room

i feel like during matches she would always call you with her portals to say hi or just give you a small kiss

it stopped being cute when she went through the portal and ended up seeing the hunter instead of you

mentally scarred from that

sometimes things would disappear in your shared room too, not only the toilet

you’re convinced she has a bunch of hidden portals in the room

like, one time you dropped a pencil and it went through the ground.

you never saw it again

Or you know that missing sock?

Portaled.

i dont know what this turned into

[curiosity-killed]

hua cheng, the accidental person

okay this is for @bodhimcbodeface because i can’t shut up and make this concise enough for discord. spoilers ahead yeehaw

this is...not comprehensive. i’ve written 11 tgcf fics and am generally a bit fixated on Hua Cheng as a character so. there’s definitely things missing but i tried to hit the main points that i thought of while writing? also obviously this is just my interpretation! i do not expect anyone else to be like “ah yes curio the sage is so correct i have changed my thinking on this” like go live your life with your own versions of hua cheng! this is just the hill upon which i have firmly planted myself and from which i refuse to be budged. as u do.

anyway, LONG explanation of my very niche and very uh self-indulgent, not-necessarily-support-by-canon hua cheng apologism LMAO

tl;dr: (this is really Too Long i’m sorry) I think Hua Cheng reluctantly becomes a person during his 800 years of searching, starting from a point where he views Xie Lian not as a person but as an immutable god and focus of devotion and developing into a person who doesn’t really acknowledge that he’s a person because realizing that you want to live and do things for yourself is scary and overwhelming at times, and he ultimately falls in love with Xie Lian during the novel itself as he recognizes and is in wonder of the humanity of Xie Lian instead of his divinity or absolute judgment.

POINT 1: Hua Cheng doesn’t actually fall in love with Xie Lian till the ox cart

but curio! you say, “my beloved!” he calls him his beloved! and the land of tender!!

shhh. IMO Hua Cheng is more Wuming than Hua Cheng for those 800 years. By which I mean, for most of that time he’s, at his heart, a nameless soldier trying to find and serve his crown prince/general/god. He still views Xie Lian as this perfect and immaculate figure—a sculpture, a painting, a work of art that is untouchable and immutable. And he’s utterly and wholly devoted to that figure but devotion is not the same as love

So Hua Cheng is searching and trying to serve Dianxia all these years and then His Royal Highness finally ascends and is a god again and Hua Cheng shows up in all his glory to give this power and strength and wealth to serve him and—

and he’s met not by a powerful and reckless martial god or an unstoppable calamity but by a young man dressed in bridal robes who lets Hua Cheng lead him up a darkened mountain, who doesn’t lash out with spiritual energy or a sword but instead, only eventually, with the cursed bandage he was carrying back in the darkest part of his life.

and i think that throws hua cheng. like he’s had this image of his god all these years, this divine painting made over and over and over again—and he carries that belief and devotion with him, but there’s a crack in the sculpture and the stone is starting to flake off to reveal a human underneath it

so he puts on an approachable, malleable, unassuming skin and finds xie lian collecting scraps and being a lil awkward, a lil bumbling, generous and kind — and i think hua cheng, after 800 years of knowing everything, having everything — I think he looks at this discovery with wonder

Bc tbc this does not mean Hua Cheng views them as equals. For him it’s like, dianxia has even more to him, is even more than I knew. He’s seen Xie Lian as the flower crowned martial god in all his glory and as the white-clothed calamity in all his horror — and now here he is, wonderful, multitudinous, and human

Meanwhile I don’t think Hua Cheng even views himself as a person really, much less a human.

also i mean. the internet & allo ppl prove time and time again that you don’t need love for horniness so. land of tender’s right out as proof on that

POINT 2: The Live For Me thing

so obviously and undeniably, using one person as a reason for living is....not healthy. Not going to argue that. but my take on it personally is that, when Hua Cheng’s a kid who really, actively wants to die and sees no reason for living, Xie Lian gives him a reason to keep going. he doesn’t have to live for himself—that’s too much, that’s too big of an ask—but he’s been given a command and purpose by the one person who’s been kind to him/whom he respects. it’s a little like... “My life has no meaning but my cat needs me to feed him and clean his litterbox and so I need to keep getting up and taking care of him even if I don’t see a larger intrinsic purpose to my life.”

and i think like...it’s easy to forget that for all of books 2 & 4, Hua Cheng is young. He doesn’t live past 18—he’s still like...a kid. And that’s not to say that teenagers/young adults can’t make moral and rational decisions but I’m going to be honest, when I was that age I contemplated joining the Air Force because of tuition assistance and the snazzy uniform despite the fact that I was a vocal pacifist and repeatedly got into arguments with teachers about school rules and conservative politics. It’s not like. The Most Rational and Mature Age, lbr. 

so Wuming is absolutely capable of looking at what Xie Lian is doing and being like “hey maybe war crimes aren’t a great idea” but he is young and traumatized and the one person he believes in, the one person who gave him a reason to keep going, is deadset on this task which tbh I don’t think either of them (or...necessarily...the society in which they live) views as war crimes in the modern sense (which isn’t to say that we as readers should view it any more lightly bc i think the narrative directly and firmly contradicts that idea) but as revenge, as an eye-for-an-eye. so, bad, but character-wise, I think it’s more nuanced than we sometimes consider

anyway back to the fixation on xie lian. i stand by the assertion that in those 800 years, hua cheng wasn’t exclusively focused on xie lian. like was finding and serving him his top priority? oh god yes. undeniably. there is no other version of this story. BUT eight hundred years is like....a lot of time. and i think in that time he started doing things for himself, even if under the guise of serving xie lian. hua cheng is curious and adventurous—he clearly likes to learn even if he plays it off as nbd—and i think he starts to realize that about himself in those centuries even if he doesn’t allow himself to acknowledge or consider it. 

POINT 3: Mt. Tong’lu in General

“okay, sure but what about the thousands of sculptures and murals of xie lian, curio. what the fuck about them.”

Yeah. FINE. okay we will DEAL with this. dealing with this is the entire reason i wrote “(like i do) in the tall grass.” 

disclaimer: this is probably not supported by canon! i also. Do Not care. My Ghost King Now.

so I have two general avenues I take with this:

going back to the devotion > love — when Hua Cheng reaches MTL, he’s seen xie lian beaten and cast down. what do gods need to survive? worship! we see throughout how important divine statues/portraits/etc. are throughout canon. in this interpretation, the cave is a concentration of all that worship in an effort to support and serve xie lian and hua cheng doesn’t view himself like...as part of it. the sculptures could have been carved by any hand so long as they are xie lian and the worship and devotion that goes into their making can support and bolster him.

my personal favorite version: amNESIA IN THE CAVES —okay i don’t have the text pulled up rn but y’know how Guoshi says Hua Cheng was almost dispersed, in terrible condition, etc., when he reached Mt. Tong’lu. so if baby boy is in terrible condition, barely hanging on, etc., then my immediate favorite option is that he doesn’t, at that time, have even the...uh threadbare sense of self he did in life/as Wuming and is running on only a vague and urgent sense of Something driving him—something he has to do, someone he has to serve—and in that case, the paintings and sculptures are part of his trying to piece together and process his memories as he can grasp them and figuring out who he is/what his purpose is. Is this canonical? PROBABLY NOT. and yet here i am. firmly planted on this hill

Also w/ MTL I think a thing that’s often skated over is the mortals, creation of E’ming, and his ascension. Which is important from a meta lens of Hua Cheng and Xie Lian vs Jun Wu but that’s not the point of this rambling monstrosity and i’m trying not to get too distracted. ANYWAY I think this is one of those times when Hua Cheng does something that he would probably excuse as like “well His Highness would’ve wanted me to” or “His Highness wouldn’t have been willing to sacrifice the mortals” because Xie Lian is still largely his moral compass—but it also is a peek at the complexity Hua Cheng doesn’t acknowledge within himself.

uh i got distracted anyway and no longer know what point i was making here. Hua Cheng Ascension Important....maybe i will remember this at some other point...

POINT 4: Live For Me (Revisited)

I sort of got distracted writing that point but anyway coming back to it now: I maintain that although Hua Cheng’s primary pursuit is protecting and serving Xie Lian he also does develop/realize his Accidental Personhood throughout his 800 years. this includes a lot of things, as previously stated, that are under the guise of serving Xie Lian (I’d put learning the Banyue tongue, finding out about the Gilded Banquet, collecting swords, beating the 33 officials etc., in this category) and things that maybe could be but...are not really (e.g., his friendship alliance with He Xuan, Paradise Manor* in general, the Gambling Den, learning the Wuyong tongue, bullying Qi Rong*, bullying FengQing*, playing with gold foil palaces, etc.)

(*these are ones that like...could be said to be for Xie Lian and I think he might say are for Xie Lian but also have a personal element that is just for him. 

Like yes Paradise Manor is a lavish and well-stocked residence fit for a god or crown prince...but it’s also a luxurious and extravagant collection of all the things he couldn’t have in life. it’s like giving a kid a credit card with no limit and letting them run wild through uh. Fuck. A Fancy Department Store. 

And sure Qi Rong was awful and turned on Xie Lian in pretty damning ways, but I also genuinely think part of Hua Cheng’s grudge with him is from the childhood abuse and from just...hatred that Qi Rong is around and looks like Xie Lian and gets to be there when Hua Cheng can’t find Xie Lian (which is about  Xie Lian but for Hua Cheng). 

Similarly with FengQing, sure a lot of his hate is for them abandoning Xie Lian—but he doesn’t even know till Book 3 when they abandoned him, and consider how much more he hates Mu Qing, the guy he blames for kicking him out of the army, etc. Some of it is totally “in service” to Xie Lian but some of it is because Hua Cheng carries a grudge like a goddamn pro and finds catharsis in beating the shit out of immortals who bounce back and can’t stop tripping over themselves and onto his blade.)

[blackberry-gingham]

The love language concept sounds interesting! I’d say George’s love language/the way he shows love is physical touch, Paul’s is receiving gifts, Ringo’s is positive affirmation mixed with quality time, and tbh I’m not to sure for John. maybe acts or service or quality time for him?

Mwahaha, you've fallen into my trap! The truth is I wanted to do this topic more or less for myself, but felt bad bc I still have a few requests left to do. So thank you for sending in a "request" for me so that I can do one out of order real quick >:3

Lol but really tho, thank you for humoring me and these are good! I could honestly see all of these, but for John I'd say acts of service with you, bc the "To Do" stuff just sounds like his character tbh, but maybe also I feel like there's some physical touch too???

Ik I've heard that John kind of actually didn't like being touched, but I mean... If you look at literally any picture of him with Yoko, he's always at least holding her hand, if not just totally draped all over her lol, so I'm assuming for an S/O it's totally different!

But anyway, here's some headcannons real quick and then back to requests. Thanks everyone!

---

George

Honestly? I feel like George would just not be able to keep his hands off you

Like, not necissarily in a sexual way (although that too, if you're in the mood lol), it's just that he loves to let you and everyone else know you're his

He's not all too shy about it either lol

I mean obviously he saves the more lovey dovey stuff for private places, but in public he still has a lot to offer

Everytime he sees you he kisses you either on the cheek, forehead, or mouth and then pulls you in for a hug

Always

Then the rest of the time, as long as he doesn't have to be working, he likes to hold your hand and play with your hair

And if he's feeling a little risqué, he likes to let you sit on his lap and cuddle against him

In private tho...

Oh, he is all over you!!!

You are his sanctuary and safe haven away from the public eye and the daily grind that comes with being a Beatle

I've seen quite a few quotes from geo lamenting the fact that he and the others had literally no private life thanks to their stardom

So yeah, believe me when I say he could live a thousand years and still never feel like he could repay you for giving him the rest and love he needs

He'd be like a long, giant cat. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, if he has an opportunity to snuggle up to you, he takes it

And if he's not exhausted, and if you let him !! he likes to just touch and kiss your body and face

Having that closeness and intimacy is so important to him, he wants to let you know how deeply he loves you

All of you

And of course, the best way you can return his love language back to him is by returning the intimacy he does for you!

When in Rome, after all

Honestly, just by accepting his offers when he initiates a request to hold your hand or hug or cuddle, he already appreciates that!

But if you initiate any of those things, he's definitely feeling the love!!

Although, one thing you like to do a bit different is giving massages

Of course George would certainly give you one if you asked!

But since he's usually tired, either mentally or physically, from always being on the go, you like to do him a favor lol

And he loves it

Seriously, you've never seen a man more blissed out then George gets over something as simple as a back or scalp massage

Assuming he doesn't fall asleep under the spell of your skillful fingers, he repays you with kisses or cuddles after :)

John

Ok idk if I'm like projecting, or reaching, or SOMETHING along those lines, but I feel like of all the boys, John is probably the one most looking for a true partner, as in like his other half

Paul is very close behind with his relationship with Linda, but for John it always came off as a need for him, more then like a want or nice thing to have

So anyway, all this to say that as far as acts of service goes, I think he gets a lot of security out of receiving this!

Like, whenever John's feeling particularly stressed or overwhelmed having you there to approach the issues with an objective mindset is a HUGE relief

Really, like I cannot stress this enough

Phrases like, "What can I do to take some pressure off for you?"

Or, "Well what if we just focus on x for now, and then we can take care of y and z tomorrow?"

All give him such a powerful sense of relief

And of course, the way that you, you know, actually follow up on your word, makes him fall even deeper in love with you then he thought possible

Now on the other hand, is physical touch

While this is a part of his love language cocktail, John likes to express this one a bit more then he likes to receive it

You see, unlike George, John is a little more reserved with his PDA

He will kiss you and hold your hand of course! But unfortunately his anxiety is a thing, so as much as he hates it, he has to reserve his physical affection for more private settings

But when you two are alone, he's like puddy in your hands!

He likes to just hold you a lot

It doesn't matter if you're preoccupied with something else, like a book or the telly, he just wants to have physical contact with you

And if you can do any of those things cuddled up on his lap or against his chest, even better!

But also, John definitely loves to get that energy back

He likes it when you give him cute little kisses and pet his head

I think he'd also like it if you rubbed his temples or the bridge of his nose/third eye lol

Wearing glasses all day can get uncomfortable you know!!

I think if you can establish that trust and physical closeness, that's when you'd also get a return on his acts of service

Really, if you've bonded this deeply with John he'd do literally anything for you

Whatever you need, whatever you want, if he can do it he will and if he can't he'll find a way to do it anyway!

He'd be loyal to a fault and love you forever after

Paul

Please tell me why I could see Paul being your sugar daddy on the low 😭😭

Really, like he just likes to spoil you!

Honestly if someone showed me proof that the real actual, 78 year old, 2021 Paul McCartney uses stacks of hundred dollar bills as tinder for his fireplace, I literally wouldn't even blink

Like even back in the day, he's got that Beatles' money baby !!! and he.... Kinda doesn't care for it, actually

I personally don't think any of the boys come across as like money hungry or something like that, but I could see Paul especially figuring that he might as well use all this dumb money to buy you things you like!

It may feel overwhelming to be on the receiving end of so many random, but expensive gifts tbh

You might even tell him to stop or that he doesn't have to do all that!!

I think he'd be able to understand that overwhelming you with nice things kinda has the opposite effect of what he's intending, but....

He just gets a little carried away sometimes lol

I mean growing up he didn't have all that much, and even now, like obviously nice things are nice, but meh

What he really wants to do is make sure you're enjoying the high life too!

I could see him doing more of writing you songs and music instead so that he can still fulfil his desire to give, should you feel uncomfortable with the fancy gifts

But yeah, if you're uncomfortable he totally would get that and dial back the materialism, but if you don't mind, then he doesn't either!!

Now you might be wondering how you, a delightfully average person, could impress Paul McCartney with a gift giving love language...

I mean, what do you give the man who has everything?

Well I'd tell you this... It's simple!

You could bring him literally anything that you find meaningful and be like "This made me think of you!" or "I just thought you'd like this!" and he'll love it!

He would definitely run up some organized collections of the little things you've given him

He has some dedicated display boxes for all the random, shiny rocks and pebbles you've found

A little filing drawer of all the notes you've ever wrote him

And if you like art or photography, he'd decorate his personal spaces with your work!

Of course he'd appreciate traditional gifts too tho

Like a watch or bass strings or a new tie ect ect

But the thing for you to not get caught up on is the price!

That doesn't matter to him :)

He likes your gifts bc they came from you!

Ringo

Ok, positive affirmation is definitely a big thing for Ringo

He gets roasted a lot by the boys and even the media, and all in good fun I suppose, but after a while enough is enough you know?

Not to mention, he just feels a bit... Lesser then?? Compared to the others and their musical talent

So the poor guy really needs a break!

Literally, even just little one word sentences of encouragement mean sooo much to him

"I'm so proud of you Ritchie!"

"That sounded wonderful!"

"You've done a great job today at the studio, good work!"

Stuff like that makes him melt

Of course he also appreciates the more conventional things like "I love you" and when you call him handsome!

And as for the spending quality time, that comes easily!

Ringo looooves to take you out on dates!

Now yes, there's your typical movie date, dinner, dancing, all that

But his favorite things to do is go on little adventures!

He takes you to the park, the beach, out to explore thrift and consignment stores, and anywhere else you want to check out!

However, not everyone wants to run around outside 24/7

So in the house, he likes doing things that you two can do together!

Painting is a big one, seeing as it's his other hobby, but it could honestly be anything, like puzzles, board games, or just watching TV!

I'm trying to think of how he'd return the words words of affirmation side of his love language, but I think it would be a little harder for him to do then expressing quality time tbh

You just make him so darn shy!

What with all your good looks and kindness, he just feels a little overwhelmed

Have you ever seen a work of art, or architecture, or even a landscape so breathtaking that you don't really know where to start when describing it to someone?

Yeah, it's like that

He definitely wants to try tho!

I think he'd stick to simple things like complimenting your outfits and praising your work or personal projects you show him!

He's worried that that comes across as just common decency tho, so he says "I love you" a lot and tries to make up for his bad way with words with quality time

[samwrights]

Pining After You [hc]

Just some Haikyuu!! head cannons about my favorites pining after the object of their affection—you. I’m gonna limit myself to only one Seijoh 3rd year >_> instead, I’m just gonna make Makki’s super long bc love.

I might turn these into one shots. I’m planning a special series to be released for the entire month of May—let me know what you guys think!

Hanamaki;

Ya know, with my last head cannon, I had such a hard time writing for Makki and now that’s all I wanna do.

Cause THIS BOI is too easy-going, too cool, to ever be blunt and up front about his feelings for you. He can’t ruin his image by stumbling over a confession.

Definitely has been in love with you since your guys’ first year—all thanks to your laugh.

Every time he hears you, even if said laugh is occasionally broken with a gentle, genuine snort, Makki feels every single electrical pulse being sent into his nerve endings.

It was a huge part of the reason that he had started owning the class clown trope, cracking jokes with his peers and even the teachers even though that definitely was not kosher. But his almost dry, sarcastic sense of humor always seemed to be rewarded with the angelic gift that was your laughter.

But he doesn’t know how to talk to you. At all.

He tries really hard not to stare at you, or at least tries not to make it super obvious and fails considering you sit on the opposite ends of the classroom

Makki always has lunch in Mattun’s classroom just so he can freely talk about something you did in class that made him laugh or smile, even if it was something stupid like you dropped your pencil or you raised your hand to answer a question.

In your third year, Mattsun is tIRED of it all.

“Just go fucking confess your feelings, I swear to gOD, or I’ll tell her.”

“Dude no, I can’t she’s way outta my league.”

Did I mention Mattsun is over it? So over it that one day, instead of waiting for his best friend to come to his classroom for lunch, he decides to pay yours a visit.

Makki’s freaking out because the fCK was Mattsun walking over to your desk?!

“She’s coming to our tournament this weekend, so bring your A game.” Was all he said before leaving the poor wing spiker to drown in the blood rising up his neck.

You weren’t friends with anyone on the VBC, but you did actually end up at the tournament with a few friends.

Exhilarating was the only way to describe it, up until Seijoh’s loss to Karasuno.

After the team thanked the spectators for watching, you noticed all the third years crying, signifying the end of their careers.

“Thank you for inviting me to watch, Matsukawa. It was really fun.” You said politely, approaching them afterwards.

Mattsun shoves his best friend towards you, “actually, he wanted to invite you. He just didn’t know how.”

Makki.exe has stopped working. He’s too busy spluttering because he literally has no idea what to say to you now. Cool boy? Not even close.

“I’ve actually wanted to come to one of your matches for awhile. I just thought it was weird because I’m not friends with any of you.”

Oh. O H.

“Y-you could’ve asked me...”

“I was hoping you’d ask me. Why do you think I always laugh at your jokes, Hanamaki?”

“Wait, does that mean you don’t think I’m actually funny?” 💀💀💀 Rip.

“I do. You’re funny, talented, handsome, and I’ve liked you since first year.”

Makki.exe has stopped working.

Akaashi;

Akaashi has studied everything he could about you without ever having actually interacted with you.

He knew you were in Bokuto’s class, he knew your name, and that the two of you interacted often, but never outside of the classroom.

He knew that you always carried your school bag over your left shoulder, and tucked your hair behind your right ear when you felt it was in your face.

Your energy somehow matched his best friend’s while simultaneously calming the owl captain like a gentle wave. You reminded Akaashi of the sun rising over the ocean.

Bokuto, oblivious to nearly everything, never realized that his best friend’s calculations went beyond analyzing the ace. One small section of his brain was dedicated to your ass.

Really, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about you, or at least that’s how you felt about yourself. But every time Akaashi swung by Bokuto’s class to walk with him to practice, his eyes were immediately drawn to you for .067 seconds before he’d look away, so as not to make you feel uncomfortable.

Once in a while, Bokuto would let small details about you slip, like how you were in the art club and that you had a showcase coming up displaying the portfolio you had built over the last three years.

He definitely didn’t ditch practice to be there for your showcase.

Showing up to the venue where the showcase was being held, he suddenly felt very under dressed seeing other third years and teachers adorning formal attire while he showed up in black jeans and a grey button up.

Wandering around the venue, Akaashi looked for you or your artwork, his breath held in his lungs when he saw the arsenal of works displayed on large black boards with your name written elegantly at the very top. Made with various mediums, he was stunned by different paintings and drawings of surreal, exquisite landscapes that could not possibly exist.

Then again, he didn’t think you were real either.

One particular painting invoked a strange emotion in him—a large, desecrated shipwreck amongst of field of bright flowers with the sun setting in the back. Titled “Crack The Sky”, the piece emanated joy and grief in one. It was almost as stunning as you were.

“This one’s my favorite.” You announced sheepishly from beside him and he realized he had never heard your voice before. The setter turned to look at you, drinking in your appearance up close for the first time. “You’re Bokuto’s friend, aren’t you? Akaashi?”

He was kinda hurt to hear you mention Bokuto for reasons unknown to himself jealous much?

“Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” He bows slightly, remember that no matter how infatuated he was with you, you were still his senpai.

He began walking with you as you explained the creation process of your different pieces. Not that he was actually paying attention, though he’d never admit that. He just liked hearing you talk and he would definitely never admit that.

You excuse yourself as your phone rings, though you don’t walk away, allowing him to hear your end of the conversation. “Yep, he’s here. I owe you dinner. You wanna talk to him?” Akaashi cocks a brow in your direction, staring at your cellphone that you’ve now held over to him. Bokuto’s name flashed on the screen.

“Uh, hi?” The setter asked, confused.

“I made a bet with her that you would ditch practice to go to her showcase because yOu LoVe HeR.”

Aight, imma head out.

Before he could run away out of embarrassment, you grabbed his wrist though you were still on the phone with Bokuto.

“Would you like to join us for dinner? Seems kinda unfair for him to get dinner when you’re the one who made the effort to be here.”

Akaashi graciously accepts to which you respond by telling Bokuto where you would meet him for the evening.

“So you love me, huh?” 💀💀💀 If Akaashi could magically disappear, he would. Or even better, if his blush ran hot enough to melt the skin off his face, that’d be great too.

But you never let go of his wrist until now, opting to wrap an arm around his instead.

“I like you too. Why do you think Bokuto and I made a bet about you coming here, silly?”

Kenma;

Poor Kenma. The worst part of his whole situation was actually being friends with you, knowing he would never get to have you.

Why would you want him, anyway? You were more fit for someone like Kuroo—someone who was as boisterous and confident as you were. He anticipated the day you two announced your relationship and left him behind in your little trio.

Not even Kuroo knew that he was in love with you and maybe that was a mistake on his part but he could never tell his best friend that you were his entire world. It was too embarrassing for him.

It took entirely too much energy to even sort through his feelings alone, how much more exhausting would it be for him to run through every single thing he felt about you to someone else?

Like the way you would nearly skip out your home every morning when the boys came to fetch you to walk to school together.

Or the way you unabashedly asked almost too personal of questions, or questions that were just soooo left field of you were friends with a person. “Hey Kuroo, how many brushes do you think you would break if you finally decided to brush your hair after 17 years?” Was one of Kenma’s favorites.

The way you sing along to every song that plays on your iPod or even the radio, even if you didn’t know the song, you would try to sing along anyway.

Some days, Kenma would look out the window and see you practicing some form of a dance routine in your backyard. He would watch you for hours until you went inside, suddenly feeling shame for being so creepy.

Nearly every night, Kenma just wished he could turn his feelings off while simultaneously wishing you were next to him so he could hold you while he slept.

Your smile was his favorite. Seeing you smile every morning as the three of you walked to school together was what got him through his day. “Hey, hey are you guys coming to my dance competition tomorrow?” You asked in your typical, jovial lilt.

“Of course.” Was all he was able to reply, while Kuroo enthusiastically responded about their attendance.

“Great! I can’t wait to see you guys in the crowd!”

The “C” word, was almost enough to make Kenna regret his decision to come. Even more so when he was surrounded by the masses, all waiting to watch their respective dance teams. But it was for you, and he would do anything for you.

Kuroo was right beside him, a small bouquet of roses in his hand to give to you after you competed. The blood red flowers made Kenna glower and glare in secret, or as secretive as he could be. “I got these for you.” The captain says quietly, handing them over to his best friend.

“Sorry, Kuroo, I can’t say I return your feelings—“

“For you to give to her, you idiot.” 🤡🤡🤡 “I’m not that dumb, Kenma.” The setter really wanted to argue and say that he was, but your school’s dance team was up to perform so he opted to stay quiet.

Have I mentioned that Kenma loves watching you dance? There was a reason he would watch you practice in your backyard. You moved with elegance and grace that was foreign and so opposite to his own demeanor, it was no wonder he was always so captivated by you.

After you compete, there’s a bit of downtime between the other competitors and the awards ceremony, giving you the chance to hang out with your besties.

“These are for you.” The second year says quietly, handing you the bouquet with a blush dusting over his cheeks. The red rivaled that of the roses.

“Aw, thank you, Kenma!” You squeaked out before giving him a kiss on the cheek, his skin burning even hotter. Kuroo’s just over there laughing but ya know.

During the awards ceremony, you’re sitting in a circle with your team not too far from your friends while they announced that Nekoma had taken first. Everyone in the dance troupe began screaming and hugging each other, while you ran straight to your boys.

While still jumping, you were hugging Kuroo so tight, arms squeezing around his neck while sharing the joy. Which made Kenma just a little bit jealous.

Just a little.

Until you’ve settled down from your jumping before wrapping your arms his neck as well. But rather than going for a hug—

Wait what is hAPOENING

You brought your lips to his briefly before burying your face into his neck out of embarrassment because wHY you had thought that was a good idea was beyond you.

Deciding you couldn’t just keep holding onto him, because he was probably embarrassed too, you stepped away, ready to run back to your team. But Kenma didn’t let go, his arms seated securely at your hips as he stared at you.

“I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t know w-w—“

“I love you.”

Wanna see a specific character? Or a different head cannon? Want to see a whole story?

Send in requests!

[in-superbloom]

okay so. i never really did a review (feels weird to call it a review tho so let's say a very opinionated essay that's totally the opposite of what college taught me) for wfttwtaf but i never really know how to do that for any album, doesn't matter how much it makes me feel feelings, bc i simply can't write about my own emotions in cohesive thoughts ✌🏻😔

so instead, i let my brain do this thing he usually does when i listen to an album that leaves an effect on me, which is pretty much just creating visuals for the songs bc apparently my feelings translate better into images/vibes rather than words lmao but since i am unfortunately not skilled to drawn/paint/created actual visual stuff, i just wrote them so i'm gonna leave them here bc why not <3

i just really love when music (art in general, but especially music for me) makes your mind run wild & be so inspired that you can't help but create something based on that feeling <3 a great example of that is the amount of art everyone here (on tumblr!sos verse, but also tumblr & the internet in general) create based on other peoples' art & i just *clenches fists* really love that 💜

anyways !! if you're reading this, i hope this makes sense to you & if you wanna chat about the album, my mail box is always open 💜

• track one: starting line – like the mv, but he's running like he's trying to get away from something, always looking behind his shoulder, stumbling on things/people on the streets. also maybe not flying?;

• track two: saigon – then he reaches a tiny but unique/eye-catching door, gets intrigued & enters. he has to go downstairs through a dark and narrow corridor, he hears muffled music coming down there. he reaches the door & the music is now clear, it looks like there are disco balls everywhere ((pink, blue and purple bc ofc)), the place is packed with people dancing & just vibing™. he goes to the dancefloor, but soon it gets overwhelming so he tries to reach a wall or the other end of the club, but he can't. the more he walks, the furthest he feels from the walls. everything has a psychedelic look, also some of those trippy effects he used on motion, and no one seems to notice/ care about him. this goes on until the end of the song, then he finally finds a door ((not the one he came from)) and opens it;

• track three: motion – he expects to find a street, but instead he's inside a room. it's a bit dark, all he sees are shadows, but then suddenly everything turns into an explosion of colors ((when the songs picks up in the beginning)), all dancing in front of him, making him feel lost & dizzy. he keeps walking, but every now and them he stumbles on something ((random things like animals or weird props or stuff that aren't supposed to be alive, but are)). he admires everything with a childlike wonder, touches things and then they turn into something else, or change form/shape/color. in the end, he's distracted looking at something and then falls like the floor reached an end;

• track four: place in me – he fell right there where he is in the mv/visualizer, it goes on like that;

• track five: baby blue – make it look like he fell asleep after the end of place in me, so he's very confused when he wakes up & it looks like the place is falling apart, like end of the world type ((like the lamentis thingy on loki)). things are exploding & he can see another planet very close to the one where he is. it's a bit scary but it's a breathtaking view nonetheless. he's mesmerized, but also kinda already accepted his fate? he's not trying to run to find a shelter/salvation or anything, just watching it all fall apart. at the end, he stops, turns around & looks at the path that he was walking ((full of nature things colored in every shade of blue and also glittery dust)) and he's just admiring it when he's hit by a big rock maybe? or a moon, who knows;

• track six: repeat – he's throw away to somewhere that's not collapsing, it looks like a pathway in the woods? but like, no florest too near, and it's sunny but not too warm, and the path is filled with green grass and flowers. he lands in a place that looks like a field but not quite. and then after walking for a while, he finds himself, but another version of him. maybe a younger one or an older one or both? like, they both just stop and stare at each other and kinda do this lil dance of trying to touch the other & watching the other, both a lil frightened but completely intrigued. maybe the older version of him? ooooh maybe it starts with an older version, but then every time present luke gets distracted by something else or turns around for a second, the other luke is getting younger, until he's just a lil kid. the ending is the mini luke offering his hand for present luke to grab, so he can lead him to a house that was near where they were. ((or maybe mini luke makes him run after him));

• track seven: mum – luke enters the house & immediately recognizes it as the house he grew up in. every step he takes, a wall or an object or a room brings a memory & it plays it out like a hologram. lots of memories. then in the guitar solo part, he finds a guitar in the room where he used to play the most when he was a kid ((maybe some cool&cute effects going around him, representing the sound coming from the guitar)). before the solo ends, you can see a shadow in the threshold of the door, and when he finished the guitar solo, luke turns around and smiles, getting up to hug the person ((it's his mum)) but maybe you never actually see her face?;

• track eight: slip away – he steps out of his childhood house and enters this big dark room. there's only a lil blue light coming from the very center of the room. when he gets closer to it, he sees it's a lil star, who looks very scared. as soon as she notices him ((he tries to reach her)) she runs out of the door on the other side of the room. he's worried&intrigued so he follows her, but when he opens the door, he immediately falls, this time he's in what looks like the clouds ((blue hues ofc but clearer ones, not as dark shades like the ones in place in me & baby blue)), and soon he finds out he can "swim" through them. he does that for a while until he sees the lil star and tries to follow her again. this goes on until he finally gets close to her, but when he touches her, she literally slips from his grasp bc he's being teleported again ((but make it look like she's the portal));

• track nine: diamonds – it starts with a close up on the water maybe? and then the camera keeps getting higher & suddenly he falls into it and soon the camera follows. he's distorted for a bit, especially when he notices he's already too deep into the water, away from the surface. then he tries to swim to the surface, but there's a bunch of things?? or like weird and mean seapeople maybe? trying to drag him down ((kinda like that scene on harry potter & the goblet of fire)). he tries his best to fight them, but what gets him away from them is a group of nice seapeople who came to his rescue. then they all swim away from the place they were ((also maybe slip in some diamonds or things that look like them around there?));

• track ten: a beautiful dream – he reaches a lil city? under water with the help of the nice seapeople & then there's this piano on the ground ((maybe covered in seaweed and stuff like that)) and he's immediately drawn to it. he plays/sings the song ((maybe like the guitar effects in mum, the sounds coming from the piano affect the place around him even tho it looks like he barely notices it)). when the song is finishing, he notices a white light coming from the surface. he looks at it & then follows it;

• track eleven: bloodline – then he's getting out of the water? at some beach perhaps? he's slowly getting out of the water & there's this beautiful sunrise behind him. he's singing along, looking like he just came out of a battle but at the same time he's in peace with himself, looking not exactly happy but relieved. he's walking on the beach, making his way home but he's not in a hurry. then in that lil bit in the end of the song, he gets out of the frame after looking straight to the camera maybe?? and the camera focuses on the sunrise and then everything goes black;

• track twelve: comedown – he wakes up in a bed ((like, this is him waking up from all these dreams)) & he's slightly confused bc the dreams felt so real, but he's feeling better & not so lost anymore. he goes out in a walk that maybe shows every place he was in his dreams? but like, this time you see what they really are bc every place in his dreams was inspired by a real location/thing, just reimagined. but like, he doesn't enter anywhere, he's just walking & you can see the places on both sides of the street. like, it's clearly a set up location but it's just representative. maybe you can see some of his friends/family at some of these locations or maybe they're all together in one place? but they don't look at him, they're just talking&laughing with each other. he looks happy, at ease & he's smiling, wearing a yellow or gold shirt. in the end, he reaches a cliffside maybe? somewhere that leads you to think that he'll go through another portal, but then he suddenly stops, looks down at the cliffside and crouches down bc he saw the lil blue star from slip away but it's now a necklace. he picks it up, with a small&easy smile and then looks at the camera, gives a bigger, real smile, gets up and turns around, going back to where his friends&family are, but the camera stays there, just watching him go.

// now some notes bc i love to over explain myself //

• the "water" one was supposed to be slip away, but alison @bandsanitizer was talking about a beautiful dream these days & said that something about the song reminds her of a sonar-like sound & the idea of searching for something, so that got me thinking about the ocean & relating it to this song and it also makes a lot of sense with what the album represents in my mind, so it made me change that. thank you for that miss alison, it's always a pleasure to read your thoughts 😌💜

• & it also fitted well with the “i can't fight the bloodline living in the seams back home” line from bloodline, so i wanted that one to be related to the water as well bc that's all i can think about when i hear that lyric;

• something in common that appears in every single one: an object or something related to time, since it's the big common theme on the whole album;

• in each song he's wearing the same outfit he wore in the starting line mv (white tee + black pants + converse) but in each one of them, that red shirt is in a different color;

• i had the visuals from starting line to mum very clear in my head on my first listen of the album, but i only truly finished writing all of this yesterday bc i wanna listen to halsey's new album and see if my brain does this thing again, but i wanted to finish wfttwtaf first <3

& that's it bc i already talked too much for a day lmao if you read all of this, you're a true hero & i love you <3 have a nice day 💛

[freebooter4ever]

Hi there!

I’m new to digital painting so I still have to figure all of that out. :)

(side note: this is my first time ever not asking as anon.. And I was the anon asking about different options for devices in digital art a while back)

Anyways..

I noticed some kind of glowing effect (?) in your sketches and I was wondering how you achieve this.

If you don’t know what i am talking about, here is a screenshot. I “circled” the spots I‘m referring to. :)

Do you just use a lighter value and lower the opacity? Or is this a whole different tool you can use - like a special “pencil”/pen?

Whatever it is, I love the look of it and I’m very curious about how to achieve it. :)

Thank you in advance! btw: I love your blog and your style of drawing!!

Hiiii anon who is no longer anon :) nice to meet you, im Boots! this is actually a super easy answer if you have photoshop - just create a layer with a "light" color (i use a warm pale orange yellow usually, but sometimes I go for bright blue, or bright yellow, or pale green, or pink, really whatever mood I'm trying to get), paint the areas you want to "lighten" and then change the layer opacity mode from "Normal" to "overlay" and poof! Light magic! I'm pretty sure actual digital illustrators would see this and recognize it as the lazy method of doing it lol whoops.

I dont really "paint" digitally though, I totally lack the patience for painting in the traditional sense - I do have a few examples up here, mostly in my extensive steve aoki tag though I think I did one of snafu at some point too. Anyway, being a 3D artist my brain is able to make sense of light in a 3D layered way - I create different layers with different "light sources" and then underneath that I create my "shadows", and i use the colors of the lights and shadows to try and unify the colors of the whole drawing bc i dont know a thing about color theory. Lately I've been trying to jump from that and start incorporating light falloff and color bounce into my process haha.

I hope this helps! :D I struggled with digital stuff too, until I stopped trying to fight it and started following my own nose with what came easier to me - hence the breakdown of lights/shadows overlaid on the drawing instead of just painting color. Thank you for liking my doodles and being curious about them!! It's very flattering ^_^ im posting this before work starts but after work I will share a breakdown of the baby wally doodle with the lines/base color/lights/shadows!

[what-kinda-fuckery]

Hey so, I was one of the star struck falsettos stans that spent the forty dollars for the webinar, and I took notes (like a weirdo). So I decided I would share my funny moments and updates from the cast here!

- Host: Everyone should be keeping their audio off.

Christian: Oh alright!

Host: nO Christian not you

- Christians in Manhattan and his hair is back and he’s wearing a Superman t-shirt.

- Brandon is with his parents in NJ

- Stephanie and Brandon still love each other

- Brandon: Meat should be cooked just right

- Betsy: Stephanie are you in maple wood?

Stephanie: Well thank you for telling everyone where I am (she’s in NJ)

- Stephanie: Are you fucking kidding meee!!!

- Tracie is in LA, she looks like she’s in Costa Rica and I love her dog.

- Anthony’s VOICE IS LOW EVERYONES FREAKING OUT

they’re all talking about Anthony’s clear skin

- Andy Randy is in LA with a fresh haircut his boyfriend did it and he’s watching too much TV

Andrew: I’m watching this is America

Stephanie: SO GOOD

Andrew: SO GOOD

- Everyone’s having hard days

- Christian is acting out tracies dog’s pathetic bark and everyone’s like WHAT are you doing bc it looks like he’s about to throw up

- BETSY IS A WEEK AWAY FROM HAVINGA WHOLE CHILD

Betsy: What else do you do during a pandemic? Have a baby!

Andrew: Can I toss out another baby name? Celery.

Literally everyone: Goodnight Andrew goodbye!

- Christian is living with a girl (?) and playing board games instead of watching television

HE COOKS NOW EVERYONES PROUD OF HIM

Christian: yesterday I made pork filet en croute

Stephanie: I MADE PORK WITH SAGE AND APPLES ON WEDNESDAY

Stephanie: In mean girls they wear pink on wednesdays. In falsettos they make pork.

- I can’t get over Anthony’s voice

Again everyone returning to his literally perfect skin

- Stephanie: When watching four jews in a room in the beginning who’s in China?? I know the answer I just want to hear someone say it.

Andrew, with a thick accent: It was Bryna, in China, with a torn miniscus

- Christian: Did anything interesting make it on to the telecast between me and you? Andrew? Actually I dont remember I need to do my research.

Andrew: There’s been some strange comments about Christian and I- (AT THIS POINT IM WHEEZING)

HE MENTIONED THE TONY BONY

HE SAID IT WASNT A THING

HE DIDNT HAVE ONE

Andrew: No that’s not a thing that happened

Brandon: Andrew i want you to know that it’s okay if it was. It’s a safe space just the seven of us. (Lol)

- Bill Finn would take two steps into the room: “WROONG”

Stephanie: he wanted me to sing the end of I’m breaking down up the octave and I said #notmytrina

Brandon: #NOTMYTRINA

- Tracie what did you do during act 1

Tracie: Betsy and I sat in that dressing room for like an hour and a half

Andrew: You SANG the WHOLE SHOW TRACIE

- Betsy watched parts of the first act to feel like she was there

- Betsy sprained both her ankles at one point during the run and was a trooper anyways

Brandon reenacting Betsy limping during look look look look

Everyone dies laughing

Christians LAUGH makes me SO HAPPY

- Betsys screen is frozen like this: 🤨

Andrew: What if she went into labor??? (This is a common thread throughout the zoom)

- Anthony: I’m getting a lot of glitching so Stephanie is just like “HUH UH UH UH”

- Betsy comes back and everyone is like

YOU GUYS ITS COMING!!!

- They bought Andrew an ice cream for his birthday from the vending machine at rehearsal

- Andrew: The Hawaii crop top

Betsy: I would give anything to have that

- Tracie: it was very hard. Very precise bringing the blocks together

Brandon: Trying to be like oh my god we’re going to a funeral

Andrew: MY DEATH IT WAS MY DEATH

- fan question: What did the blocks weigh?

Stephanie: They were like thick yoga blocks. Not heavy but awkward shaped

Andrew: Significantly heavier when Anthony sat on them

Anthony: I just realized how much I got thrown around

Stephanie: Anthony were you proud of yourself? #proudofyou

Anthony: The one moment I was cringing was father and son

Christian: HERE WE GO *SLAPS TABLE*

Betsy: Anthony’s like BLAH BLAH BLAH blah my line BLAH BLAH BLAH my line BLAH BLAH

Christian: I LEAVE THE PAUSE IF YOU CANT GET IN THATS ON YOU

Anthony: I was blinking in that number like constantly

Christian: THE WHOLE THING LIKE A SALAMANDER

Oh Anthony.

- Andrew: I HAVE A STORY ABOUT CHRISTIAN BORLE. Tech for what more can i say. He was laying on me. We were shirtless in underpants under the blankets.

Christian: SLOWER

Andrew: he leaned over; He sniffed his armpit and said “I hope you like France”

EVERYONE DIES LAUGHING INCLUDING ME

Christian: i haven��t worn deodorant in 10 years true story

- Christian: i seem to remember holding our pillows and blankets pretending like we were partying on fyre island and Andrew said:

Andrew: WHATS YOUR NAME???

Christian: No no it was something like:

WHAT HOUSE ARE YOU STAYING IN??

Andrew: WHAT HOUSE ARE YOU STAYING IN???

Betsy: James lupine I feel like we’re ruining this show

- Andrew: The shenanigans were real but so was the sadness

Stephanie: We’re real and we’re funny what you gonna do

- Andrew talking about how hard the show was to do: Finding some liberty, It’s a hard world to live in all the time. It was a hard time especially for Christian. I would sometimes go home and cry for no reason

Brandon: Building up emotion with nowhere to put it

Betsy: then Lesbians come in and provide all the levity

Stephanie: Although Dr. Charlotte brings in horrible news

Tracie: Everything’s beautiful at what more can i say and I’m like not so fast

- Tracie always had a funny thing to say

- Who broke character the most on stage?

Anthony Stephanie and Christian

Anthony: it was when I said “I don’t want a bar mitzvah” and I spit in your face a lot and you went like *puts arms up* and someone at stage door was like very condescending like it’s not professional

Christian: Oh my bad we’re people sorry

- Stephanie wrote a line in the show “YOU HAVE PAINTINGS OF DICKS”

- James wanted her to cut off her finger during I’m breaking down

And turn around with a bandaged bloody finger

- Betsy’s nose bleeding during something bad is happening

And Tracie was like something BAD IS HAPPENING

Tracie: Christians throwing up right now

Betsy: Bloody Kleenex up the nose THE SHOW MUST GO ON

- Fan question: Stephanie how do you belt with a banana in your mouth

Christian: Practice practice practice

Stephanie: just shove it in your cheek. But Really that wasn’t supposed to happen

Anthony’s nickname in the rehearsal room was little bananas because he had to gather up all the pieces of stuff after Stephanie shoved the table over with her rear. Sometimes he didn’t have enough time to put it somewhere so he would just put the pieces of banana in his mouth and that’s where it came from

That’s why

- Andrew: Stephanie your glasses are very chic

Stephanie: Oh my gosh thank you *shocked*

- Betsy: Bill was like I’d rather DIE than change lyrics for the pbs special

FLaT aS a LaKe

- Cue everyone accidentally talking over each other and saying what at each other for 30 seconds

Christian: what? what? what?

Who is it?

What’s going on?

- If you could play anyone else in the show who would it be

Anthony said Mendel

Tracie said Mendel

Brandon said Trina

Andrew said marvin

Betsy said whizzer

Stephanie said Mendel

And I honestly couldn’t hear if Christian said anything whoops

- Brandon: If someone could at some point explain to me the Mendel eats dirt meme? People have been Asking me if Mendel eats dirt? I don’t think it’s about Trina Trina is not the dirt. I was overwhelmed. Can someone in the Q&A explain this? *A few seconds later* oh It was from a meme generator?

Christian: Greaat.

Brandon: It’s a fan fiction about Mendel eating dirt and getting aroused by it

Everyone: WHAT

- They still get fan art

Someone recreated the whole soundtrack 8bit and also with KAZOOS

- Brandon: CONGRATS CHRISTIAN ON LULOS WIN FOR LITTLE SHOP. If you haven’t seen Christian in little shop it’s revelatory I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass I have not laughed that hard in a while at the theatre

- Christian talking about little shop

Christian has a 12 inch Batman toy in his dressing room and he misses it

- Ticket prices were getting out of control before corona everyones hoping this will make a difference

Brandon and everyone think it should get more accessible

- Brandon: Hear hear I need a refill

- Stephanie: Your hair looks incredible Brandon (it did)

Christian: She’s been waiting to talk about it for 53 minutes

- Andrew: Well Betsy what I’m wondering is have you crowned yet??

Proceed everyone dying

Brandon, taking a picture of the screen: This moment will go down in history as When Betsy was asked if she was crowning

- Everyone mimicking zoom freezing by starting a sentence and freezing halfway through

- Christian: What new Steven sondheim musical are you excited about Anthony *devilish grin*

Anthony having no idea what Christian is talking about

Christian: Come on Anthony you know the answer. Ugh. The minds of the young. You’re smoking pot now aren’t you??

Christian: We have a lot of fun

- Andrew: I’m trying to get people to pay attention to me

- Christians pretending to be frozen

Cue a lot of yelling: Stephanie BRANDON STEPHANIE

NO CHRISTIAN

Everyone accusing each other of being frozen

NO YOURE FROZEN

- Andrew: Let’s all act like we’re frozen

Steph: I see Andrew acting like hes frozen

Betsy: Watching you do that is killing me

- Listening to the cast recording for the first time together

Stephanie: Why was I the a-hole that couldn’t be there???

Christian: That’s a question only you can answer

- Betsys husband came in everyones like BETSY LOOK OUT

Christian: that scared the shit out of me

- What is marvins last name and what was his line of work

Christian: we definitely said it at some point right? (They didnt) but he was in advertising. What was the last name? Gardens? O’Malley?

- Andrew: Betsys gone oh no

Betsy: I’m right here!!!

Andrew: She’s giving birth (again)

Stephanie: Betsy Wolfe is a ceiling

- Brandon: Welcome back Anthony. You’re here now.

Anthony singing merrily we roll along over Betsy trying to tell a story

Christian: STOP SMOKING POT IN YOUR BEDROOM ANTHONY

- Betsy: Steve (Steven Sondheim) comes to the door I call him steve

Into the woods is the reason Betsy is in theatre

- Betsy: Andrew was nervous singing at the tonys for Book of Mormon and he got dry mouth he sang like 😬I BELIEVE and he licked his lips so much during the song.

Brandon: Did you have a boner then too?

Andrew: GUYS DONT BE DICKS

Stephanie: It’ll be like dry mouth, boner

Andrew: BETSY YOU FUCKIN BITCH ITS ACTUALLY NOT THAT BAD

Stephanie: Bets maybe we should wrap it up

- Brandon sings MARRIAGE PROPOSAL

EVERYONE TELLING HIM TO STOP SINGING I took a video it was beautiful might post that later

- “Tracie Thomas from Lent!”

Tracie having stage fright

Tracie: Billy porter said “oh child we all forget the words” and walked away

- Anthony said WHO SHAT THE BED in four jews once

Anthony: That’s my contribution. Steph got her line, I got who shat the bed

- Steph: We lost andrew oh no

Christian: Um, we lost andrew ten minutes ago. Yeah when Brandon started singing

- Then Betsy sang a song by Bill Finn beautiful

- Steph: Wear your masks and eat pork on wednesdays

That was it!! I hope you enjoyed and people who were there if I got anything wrong that’s my human error it was hard to note everything I wanted to. Smooches! Byee

[chaoticevilbean]

Trying my hand at an Avatar Sokka AU. Gonna be weird Bc thassa me and I’m just That. Anyways, don’t expect too Much from this. And I’m gonna try to Make it good, but I also Haven’t watched the show a million times. Just a few.

It’ll probably include:

- No one knowing Sokka’s the Avatar except Kanna and Kya

- Sokka as Chief of the SWT. I will probably make him younger when his father leaves for plot purposes.

- Sokka starts as a firebender because the Spirits do something. It will never be clarified what they do.

- The former Avatar was Aang’s friend and saved him and Appa after they decided to run away together. However, it was only the duo that got put in the iceberg, preserved by the Avatar’s power, and that Avatar went into hiding without his best friend. He stayed alive and in hiding until he knew that it was unlikely anyone thought he was still alive. If it was assumed that the Avatar was gone forever, his successor would be safe from the Fire Nation. Especially because the raids would ensure the Earth Kingdom would be suspect instead of the Water Tribes.

- When the raids were done, the previous Avatar pulled a Jedi Master and just straight-up died to pass on the responsibilities.

- Sokka didn’t discover his abilities until he was about five or six. It was during a raid and he was with his mother and grandmother. He learned to control it quickly with their help. By control, I mean he doesn’t randomly cause steam or smoke or light firepits. He can hold his flames inside.

- Sokka attempted to copy the moves of the raiders who used bending, but found that waterbending moves like those his sister did worked better on the ice. Since he grew up with the Midnight Sun and Polar Night, he isn’t affected by them. (Also, his Avatar Spirit balances it out a lot.)

- Sokka thinking he’s just a firebender because the raids have been going on for a hundred years, but then Kanna has him do a test and the results are absolute. He is the Avatar.

- Sokka trying to imagine what an airbender would bend like. Sneaking out in harsh winds and practicing to bend with light steps and using the air to lift him higher. Building up his lungs and trying to be as though he’s in the mountains or soaring above treetops.

- He doesn’t get far, but he gets started.

- Using his lung power and inner flames to dive deep and long to catch fish and gather other supplies. More often after his father left.

- When Aang comes along, Sokka observes his every move, trying to master them in private late at night, with the excuse of keeping watch

- Aang is taken by Zuko because he’s an airbender and they’re supposed to be extinct

- Sokka eventually gets good enough with both the firebending he learned from his enemies and the airbending he learned from his friend to start waterbending. He’s sort of good because he’s been using the moves for years (amateurish but still used)

- The trips go the same, only they’re now just trying to find possible teachers for the Avatar and the Avatar themself so they can somehow teach the person all at once before the comet

- Aang connects to the Spirit World because he’s a monk and he knew the other former Avatar extremely well. The Spirits allow him passage.

- Aang causes Sokka some panic when he compares him to his ‘old friend, the previous Avatar’. Sokka eventually gets used to it.

- Zuko tracks the Gaang because they’re his only lead.

- Sokka acts solely as a nonbender when around anyone because he doesn’t want to be the Avatar. Yes, he knows the war is awful. Yes, he grew up with it. But that’s exactly why he doesn’t want to be the Avatar. He grew up with raids and the death and destruction that followed. His mother died protecting his sister when they were so young. All the men, the hunters and warriors, left the tribe and left Sokka in charge when he was a preteen. The war has brought nothing but sorrow, and Sokka doesn’t think he can overcome something so huge, so insurmountable. So he acts as much like a nonbender as he can.

- He isn’t sexist towards Suki because Kyoshi makes sure he has that stamped out early on. Instead, the moment the blindfold is off, he’s craning his neck back to see the statue of his past life. Suki thinks he’s a bit thick, and Katara doesn’t understand but covers for his preoccupation.

- Sokka learns to be a Kyoshi Warrior when Kysohi literally takes him over during the night and steals both warpaint and an outfit, and then teaches him to properly wear it all. Suki finds him firebending in full Kyoshi garb and using the fans. She assumes that he’s just the product of the Fire Nation’s cruelty.

- However, she does ask why he stole their gear and how he’s using the fans better than most newbies.

- “Kyoshi.” “What?” “Kyoshi... possessed me... and taught me how to be like you... and she’s proud of you.” “... is this normal for the Avatar’s friends?”

- Suki doesn’t tell the others under the conditions that she ‘take over for Kyoshi’ in training him and she can figure him out for herself through that.

- At the Fire Temple, the group gets separated, but Sokka is called by Roku to the Solstice room. He ends up managing to get inside with the help of Shyu, who understands he’s protecting himself and others by hiding.

- The others still get captured, and Shyu claims that Sokka made a controlled explosion to get in (the original idea until Shyu told him he knew the boy was the Avatar). Aang tells Katara that Roku sealing the chamber means Sokka is being spoken to. Zuko and Zhao are still there as well.

- When Roku takes over to tear down the temple, he disappears into an obscure hallway so Sokka can regain control without his friends knowing.

- Toph finds out Sokka is the Avatar when she ‘sees’ him practicing. She starts demanding he ‘keep her company’ when she does daily bending practice (they all do it so they can improve enough to eventually teach the Avatar and fight the Firelord). Whenever Toph ‘sees’ Sokka make a mistake while practicing earthbending, she uses the correct moves the next day and makes sure she’s in full view of Snoozles.

- Sometimes Toph drags Sokka over to watch Katara and Aang practice because she’s ‘bored’.

- Aang goes to see the Guru and when he’s heading back because he was given a vision of Katara in danger, he explains what he learned to Sokka. Sokka takes Aang’s place in their plan, so he is the one who helps Iroh rescue Zuko and Katara.

- When Azula starts to attack and it looks like they’ll lose, Sokka hides himself and is ignored because he’s presumed a nonbender. He goes through opening his chakras in what is definitely record time, but Sokka’s always been good at following plans/instructions (not orders, instructions, like how-to’s and stuff). He has to let go of his attachments to the Gaang, to his tribe, to Yue, Suki, and those he met on his journey. He does so by considering the fact that by letting go of his focus on them in particular, he can focus on stopping the larger problems, the problems that are likely to or are causing them harm.

- Sokka enters the Avatar State just as Aang enters, and the chaos causes Azula to think Aang is the Avatar. When she shoots him with lightning, Sokka drops from the Avatar State and gets his family out of there.

- Zuko still turns against them, but Agni’s voice is strong, and Sokka sees the same brotherly nature as he has within the boy.

- After taking the FN ship, Katara brings up a discussion of who the Avatar could be because they were there and helped the group, and Sokka makes up a vague story of how someone pulled him out of the battle (to explain his disappearance). Toph acts like she’s actually wondering, but pulls Sokka aside later and tells him she knows.

- Sokka can use metalbending, but doesn’t do it often if at all because he’s so used to hiding and he feels like it’s Toph’s thing. She stamps that out once she gets sick of it.

I might add more, but I’m just plotting this out right now, and I’m gonna try it out later when I have the time. If you want, suggest stuff. If you hate this idea, then please give me constructive criticism instead of pure wrath. I’m still going to include a character arc that hopefully does Sokka justice, but instead of focusing on his dismantling of his former sexist ways and learning that not being some big tough guy is okay (he can love shopping and fashion, he can love poetry, he can love dresses and makeup, he can love singing and have fun and pick up fine arts and paint), it’ll be more of him opening up and learning that he is strong enough, and if he isn’t, he has friends and family for a reason. He’ll learn how to be more confident in his abilities and how to let his true self shine more than his fake one.

Have at It.

[oofchris]

⌠ MADISON BAILEY, 19, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, CHRISTINA ' CHRIS ' ANDERSON! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in MACGYVER SURVIVAL SKILLS & NAVIGATION + PROTECTION & ENFORCEMENT; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( speckles of dried paint on fingers, cruising round on a longboard, joints tucked behind ears wrapped in colourful papers ). when it’s the ( sagittarius )’s birthday on 12/27/2001, they always request their PHO from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ mochi, 24, she/her, gmt ⍀

@gallagherintro​

hi uwu, here is a new baby who is not very baby but still a lil baby

 . . . it got quite long so tldr; she’s a stubborn art hoe from california who’s dad died so she’s come to gallagher bc her mom is a professor in the p+e major <3 

parallels

wyldstyle  — the lego movie: 85%

mulan — mulan: 84%

nymphadora tonks — harry potter: 83%

princess fiona — shrek: 83%

robin buckley — stranger things: 82%

here is a full list

HISTORY

potential triggers — car accident, parental death, divorce

so she’s grown up on on the west coast p much ??? her whole life. her mom worked as a bodyguard for sum famous peeps, dad was doctor but occasionally also a medic in the field — they didn’t always see eye to eye and divorced when chris was around nine. it was mostly to do with chris’ future like whether she’d go to spy prep school and follow in their footsteps and her dad didn’t want that for her so they disagreed, and she lived with him instead, living a more or less normal life. her mom then moved away when the opportunity to become a professor at gallagher presented itself, so they’ve really not been close at all since then

lived fairly comfortably, either way her dad had money and her mom sent support too. her father definitely earns less from no longer being in the spy world but he vowed to leave that behind when he divorced his wife and other than a few people from his past popping up unannounced, he kept that vow. they moved around a couple times in order to keep chris safe, and especially when someone did find them ( even if it was friendly ) but mostly grew up in california, and a lot of it is to do with the fact chris loves it there so much

but chris knows about the spy world, what her mom does and the type of school she works at, but it never interested her enough to try and reach out or fight her dad on it as she enjoyed her life 

she remembers her mom as someone stubborn, argumentative, volatile which is the opposite of her dad who was patient, loving and endearing — so it’s a no brainer for her, she loves her dad a lot and he gave up a lot for her while her mom gave chris up for that world, her job, etc aka nada

BUT her dad died in a car accident recently that she was also in but was only a bit beaten up at most ( has some cuts / new scars, learn more below ) leaving her mother to swiftly pick her up and enrol her into gallagher, more to keep an eye on her than anything. 

her mom chose her majors and some of her classes for her, which chris is mad about, but mainly bc looking at what ones were offered she’d def pick macgyver anyway, and her mom argued p+e was a step into the physical and combat side of thing without being too heavy on it ( tho it’s the major she teaches so she’s biased and chris just thinks she wants to be closer ) but tbh ? chris just doesn’t want her mom to be right whatsoever or have the satisfaction of thinking she knows her daughter in anyway at all but she knows if she went undecided she’d probably pick those up again in her second year so she’s just ‘ going with it ‘ begrudgingly as if she has no choice

PERSONALITY

extremely stubborn, which she gets from her mom, would rather ruin her life than go back on something or admit she was wrong, if she apologises for something she'll find a way to do it where she's not actually ever saying the words ' im sorry ' or ' i was wrong ' and would rather start another argument than do that — but obviously she loves other people apologising to her

she is generally nice ??? i just think she can be irritated easy ?????? like a bit of a hot head tho she'd argue she's chill, she is mostly chill but likes to debate, be right, and can be very my way or the high way at times — i’ll figure her out more as i play her bc i can’t tell if she’s mean or not but i don’t think so, just a bit tougher than she needs to be 

in my head she’s like a seb/luc hybrid so . . . take that as you will 

doesn’t dislike gallagher ( mostly ) but thinks all the legacies — even tho she technically is one, she doesn’t identify as one — are entitled spoiled brats and should get their heads out of their ass, doesn't like that being a legacy is even a thing though a lot of it definitely comes from her bitter resentment towards her mom and how she'd have rather leave her and her dad than leave the spy life hbsjhbsjhb also i think bc of her mom she has level 5 clearance which . . . she’s not complaining about but definitely complaining that clearance levels are even a thing, she’s gonna contradict herself a lot, i feel it

MISC

i THINK she’s only arrived, like, at the start of spring semester tbh, she wasn’t here for fall so she is new new

halfway through her first year at stanford studying art alongside film and media as a minor before her mom brought her to gallagher — which she's kind of not happy about like she understands her dad didn't want it for her, she also wanted to just stay in california but the only family she has now is on her mom's side.

she's still enrolled at stanford, though dropped her minor, and is studying online for her major as she's made it clear to her mom she doesn't want to be a spy so she pulled a few strings with the stanford admission board to allow her studying to continue ( idek if this is allowed i'm just pretending her mom is powerful enough to do it ) — it was a big reason chris agreed to come to gallagher, not that she had much of a choice, bc she wants her ‘ normal ‘ life and her ‘ normal ‘ degree regardless of being at a spy school

only her mom calls her christina and she actually hates it so pls dont unless you are trying to get on her bad side — also she probs avoids her mom like the plague so don’t bring that up either

often covered in little cuts and bruises from her skating but she’s got two fresh / soon to be scars on the left side of her face on the top of her cheek bone and on her jaw from a shards of glass when she was in the car accident — she is the type to pick her scabs until they bleed again, too, so i picture her with loads of little scars especially on her hands, elbows and knees

she did learn self defense from her dad growing up and she has studied jiujitsu and akido since she was around thirteen, she also boxes but it's more casual like for stress and stuff rather than something she takes overly seriously

she likes surfing, diving, enjoys the kind of world that exists underwater where it's just peaceful and calm so she will be around the lake a lot / at the pool if you need to find her

she’s 5’3 and never wears heels

pansexual and while it might change i wanna say she's not overly sexual, like wouldn't have hookups for no reason ?? but potentially some one night stands or drunken mistakes or whatever. doesn't look down on sluts but i think she doesn't have the most confidence in that area, or in self esteem in general, so she'll ??? only really have a frequent thing if she feels Hella comfortable

the type to have crushes tho, but not act on them at all bc again self esteem issues 

bit of a tomboy, skater, stoner — though she wouldn't identify as one — really loves movies and can be a proper filmophile, probably has more film soundtracks on her spotify unwrapped than she does actual artists and don't get her started on Women— in film bc she won't stop 

very active, sporty, probs trying to parkour around campus

enjoys painting, sketching, simply creating things — often is filming, riding a longboard, working on some kind of little project she'll take too seriously but won't show people until it's perfect

is a little pretentious at times ??? doesn't necessarily mean to be but if it's a debate on a topic she's passionate about ( such as art, film, etc ) then she will try to ensure you know just how knowledgeable she is on it, she's not afraid to flex but she wouldn't outwardly flex for no reason if that makes sense 

she also . . . feels p dumb at gallagher tbh, a lot of her strengths lie in her creativity and art and now she’s very ??? wtf am i doing ?? but she will continue to act like she knows !

can speak english, french, german and spanish all pretty fluently, italian well enough to get by, knows a bit of japanese bc she’s . . . a weeb sometimes but also bc of her martial arts

CONNECTIONS

FAMILY / CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ( SPY ) — so this would more than likely be before her parents divorce, but she’s not against keeping in contact a little if she liked you, it could have also been a family who reached out to her dad afterwards because while he’d move away / hide his location promptly after, he would still help them if they needed it ( 1 / ? )

FAMILY / CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ( NON SPY ) — same thing, but would have probably been after the divorce, just normal families that her and her dad knew, neighbours, work colleagues, school friends, would more than likely have also needed to be west coast sorta area but if your muse was there briefly, they could have kept in contact once they’d left ( 0 / ? )

LEGACIES — she potentially . . . won’t like you if you’re a legacy and you are egotistical / assholey even a tiny bit, bc that basically proves her argument that they’re ALL like that jshbjsbjs but i wud like her to have legacies that she . . . hates that she likes as well, i think she’ll realise p quickly most are fine lmao

ART HOES — whether they’re into painting as well and they do it together or they let her paint them !

SMOKE / SKATE BUDS — one or the other, both, whatever !! 

A HOOK UP THAT’S EITHER ALREADY HAPPENED OR GOING TO — in my head she’s a bit ??? w sex tbh so maybe plot this out a bit more but can be a ?? positive relationship or a negative one idm

CRUSHES !!!!!!!!! — she’s not even been at the school long but im certain she probs has some already

i’m not good w wanted connections so pls just hmu if u have ideas and as usual like dis for plots / jus message me, i’ll be on discord !! if you don’t have/use discord just message me first on tumblr bc otherwise i wont realise jhbsjhbjhbsj

[vanchlo]

The Firsts / #5, “The First Time Without”

*not my gifs*

---> NEXT BLURB: Um, not sure with finals coming up . . Check the series masterlist for updates!

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST    

READ ON WATTPAD

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

and i’m too lazy for italics bc tumblr ignores formatting like that i do in Docs so sorry

WARNINGS: Swearing, distressing topics, hella lotta angst and sadness

WORD COUNT: 16.5k words (WOWZAS!!!)

SONG: Hurts Like Hell by Fleurie (click to listen)

                                          * Sneak PeeEEEK! *

“‘ve rehearsed it so many bloody times in me head, but now, I actually get t’ talk t’ you and I can’t rememba,” he admits softly with shame painting his voice, and an out of place smile.

“All I know . .  ‘s that I miss you and it scares me how much I can miss you sittin’ at a meetin’ with you across tha table. I miss you like you’ve gone . . but inna way, you have. I miss you in so many ways, walkin’ in tha door at home t’ you, findin’ you’d claimed me sofa again fer anotha day workin’ t’getha, or even that you’d be usin’ one o’ me favourite coffee mugs or jumpers. I miss those small things, and then, I even miss wakin’ up next t’ you, talkin’ t’ you ‘bout songs, ‘bout art, or gettin’ yer advice on a recipe or an argument inna case. ‘d missed you like mad befo’, but nuthin’ compares t’ this. Didn’t know I could miss somebody so much that ‘m always sore from it, that I ache when I see you and can’t touch you or talk t’ you.”

“Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. If not always in the ways we expect.”

- Luna Lovegood

*

“You can only actually help someone who wants to be helped.”

- Jojo Moyes, Me Before You

+

It smelled of metal and disinfectant around me, but I tried to drown it out with the images I scroll through. The electronic beeping wormed its way into my thoughts, but I welcomed the respite from the chaos toiling around in there. Images of friends and casual strangers litter my Instagram feed and instead of looking away when the dinging stops, I continue, distracting myself. That in itself seems to be my job for the last few weeks, owned by the number one job of not thinking about it. It’s followed by another important task of not crying in public, and saving it for at home despite the place owning that name changing recently. I’ve failed at all of those jobs the second I think about the person who I called my home for so long now, and can’t any longer. 

The new smell is what gets me at first, and immediately, the pictures are forgotten. I know before I look up that the facade is broken. Then, everything is shattered within a few moments, no matter how good I’ve gotten at ignoring him, or pushing down the feelings when I see him across the table at a team meeting. I’ve gotten good at the pretending part, but the only person I’ve never been able to do that around is the very one who accompanies me on the elevator now. My bad luck echoes when I finally chance a glance and I leave it for too long, because then he looks up and meets my eyes. 

Harry. My home . . but he’s not that any longer. 

“Hi,” he risks with a gentle curve of his lips, and a softness in his eyes that he holds in his hands for me too. A softness that never left him once I worked my way into his heart all of those years ago, it’s one that I still can’t allow myself to get rid of. 

“Hi,” I return curtly, tearing my eyes away from him, and his new suit. A mauve ensemble with a raven black button up underneath. Spiffy, indeed. It feels like a mini marathon to look away from him in that suit, and how it hugs him in all of the right places. The biceps, the chest, how it opens at his wildly attractive throat, reminds me of the base that we never hit when my eyes venture too low, and his bum. No, I can’t see it from my view right now, but I’d made sure to have seen it earlier today. 

“‘s good timin’, I was wonderin’ if we could talk,” he ventures out on a limb to say, and my eyes are rolling before he gets to finish. 

“I don’t want to talk, Harry.” 

“Becks, please, jus’ lemme finish, bug,” he says, and I wonder how he can be so gutsy to use those two coveted names within one sentence. Despite his bravery, the gesture does its job, and I gulp against the longing that climbs up my throat. 

“No, you don’t get to.” 

                                     Several Weeks Earlier . . . 

“And just what are you mmming about?” I giggle under the spray of kisses he scatters across my face. 

“‘ve been waitin’ all day t’ smother you in kisses, that’s why,” he hums against my skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface with his warm breath so near. A laugh sings from me when his fingers linger to a ticklish spot on my side. 

“Harry, don’t you dare!” 

“Sorry, swear I didn’t mean t’,” he giggles in between kisses that he sponges down my chest. “Mmmm, I love these so much.” 

“And why is that?”

“Why all tha questions, lovey?” he says, asking one of his own. He lifts an eyebrow at me from under the hood of his dark, thick eyelashes. A dimple collapses into his cheek while one corner of his mouth raises. “Can’t I love yer tits without havin’ t’ say why? Rather sure y’know why, anyways.” 

“Yeah, you’re obsessed with them,” I say, a laugh sputtering from my lips. A groan interrupts them when he teases me with those lips. “It’d be nice if you could not make jokes about them while our coworkers are around.” 

“Hey, I didn’t know My was in tha copier room, ‘s not me fault. Y’know he doesn’t give a shit about our PDA at work, and c’mon, Becks, they really did look incredible in that blouse t’day,” Harry winks from below me, lips venturing to the space above my belly button. “I love ‘em, they’re pink and perfect.” 

A redness sits in my cheeks as I titter, pressing the back of my hand against my shy lips, embarrassment coating them thickly. “We should be taking down the Halloween decorations instead of this.” 

“Hush you,” he murmurs. 

His hair is tangled and yet handsome when I catch my fingers in it, scratching my fingernails against his scalp. My eyes stay glued to it and his figure hunched over me, lips stopping at the hem of my underwear. I already know about the smirk lining his lips when he lifts his head to pose a question to me with his eyes. 

“Hmmm?” he murmurs, but I shake my head, again. “C’mon, Becks, it’d feel good, love. I wanna taste you.” 

Shaking my head once more, a refusal hums from me as my cheeks turn to the color of apples that I hope he can’t see. He sighs with a shake of his head, clucking his tongue at me while pressing kisses to the inside of my leg, soon reaching the pillowy flesh of my inner thigh. Closing my eyes, I press my lips together and sigh, my arm falling over my chest. I try to remember when I had lost my shirt and when he had lost his, but these days, it’s hard to remember if it was after the first kiss or the fiftieth. 

His lips reach further down my thigh and close to my blush colored underwear, a lacy part I’d bought recently. Once his lips had ventured down there, a knot inside of my stomach appeared, and it only grows tighter as his lips drop lower. It threatens to unravel when his nose brushes against the hemline, pushing it back to kiss the recently hidden flesh of my hip. 

“Harry!” I exclaim, tugging softly at the hair on the nape of his neck. 

“What? I was jus’ gettin’ t’ tha good part.” 

“You know I’m not-.” 

“I know,” he groans, situating himself high over top of me again like we had started, and with a kiss to the lips too. Despite the gesture, I can see the tension in his jaw and the annoyance in his eyes. “I can’t eat you out and I can’t fook you, so what ‘s there left fer me t’ do, huh?”

“Kiss me,” I say, and for some reason, it comes out sounding like a question. He huffs and bends down to place his lips on mine, but from the start, it doesn’t feel right. Now, I can feel the tension in his shoulders and the rigidness of his lips on mine. “What, are you not into this anymore?” I inquire after ending the kiss, twirling a curl of his around my finger on his neck. 

“No, ‘s not that,” Harry answers, eyes straying from me. A hand lifts from the bed and he draws invisible shapes on my skin with the lightest of touch until it runs loose on me. 

“Stop playing with my boobs and look at me,” I laugh, laying an arm across my bare chest and lifting his chin. The playful glint he so often holds in his eyes is there, but once my laugh falls away, it does too. “You’re being impatient again, aren’t you?”

“I jus’ dunno why we can’t do mo’, Becks, we’ve been t’getha ten months. Loads o’ couples have sex befo’ then and tha girlfriend lets their boyfriend eat ‘em out too.” 

“We’re not other couples, Harry, and I’m just not ready,” I say, combing the stray curls off of his forehead. My hand wanders to his smooth cheeks that already feel sandpapery despite him shaving this morning, right next to me as I washed my face. 

“I know, ‘m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Does Mr. Impatient want some head?” 

“Nah, ‘m good. Let’s jus’ go eat dinna, ‘m hungry,” he says sadly, climbing off of me and the bed. 

“That’s not what your dick is saying,” I respond, sitting up and pulling my shirt over my head, watching as he pulls a pair of joggers over his briefs to hide the bulge in his underwear. 

“‘m fine. Now, what d’ya want fer dinna?” he continues, stepping in the hallway, forgetting his shirt on the bedroom floor. 

“Dick.” 

“Fine, you can make yer own dinna, sassy pants!” he calls to me, joined by the sound of his bare feet slapping on the wooden stairs. 

With a sigh, I close my eyes and fall back onto the bed with a little bounce, thinking about him. I think about the look on his face when it was between my thighs, then between my breasts, and nosing at my underwear. What is wrong with me to deny that man? I don’t know, I want to do the deed with him- I want to make love to him and for him to make love to me, but for some reason, I’m just not ready. I have a weird feeling about the whole thing, like I should wait. I just wish that I knew the why.

+

I hear it before I see it, like I so often do. It runs a trail down the hallway and to my ears, pulling my lips into a smile long before I see the one sitting on his. 

“What on your phone is so funny?” I inquire, stopping in front of his desk and dropping his mail next to his keyboard. Another giggle tickles his lips as he pinches his bottom lip between his fingers, staring at something on his phone. 

“Yer dad ‘s what.” 

“I should’ve known,” I sigh, falling onto one of the chairs in front of his desk, watching as his thumbs flit across the screen. “I swear, you talk to my dad more than I talk to him, and he’s my dad!” 

“Uh oh, ‘s somebody gettin’ jealous now?” he teases, lifting his eyes to look at me as he sets his phone down.  

“No, why would I be jealous of you texting my dad? It makes me happy.” 

“Hmm, not sure I believe you, bug,” he remarks, popping a mint into his mouth, immediately chewing it. Sometimes, I really don’t get him. “Then why d’ya get so bent outta shape sometimes, hmm?”

Clucking my tongue, I huff with a smile that hugs the corner of my lips, “Maybe because he doesn’t answer when I call because he’s talking to somebody else.” 

“Hey now,” Harry titters, gesturing a hand at me to come to him once I’ve stood up. “Don’t be that way.” 

“I’m not being any way,” I say, turning around after considering the books he’s added to a new shelf of his. These ones are music biographies, big surprise. 

“Sure ya aren’t. C’mere, me stubborn girl,” he beckons, and I obey, taking slow steps over to him until I walk between his legs. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” I return, just as softly as he had uttered it. His rose lips spread into a sweet smile, reminding me why it’s always so damn hard to stay mad at him. 

“Are you grumpy?” Harry asks with the most adorable of pouts poised on his lips, winking at me. 

“No, I’m not grumpy. Are you ready to get started on this case? We really can’t be dawdling, you know.” 

“I know,” he answers, sadness stuck to his words. It guides his actions that lead him to look away from me, pulling me closer until he rests his forehead below my collarbone. 

“Then why are you these last few days? I thought you were so excited that we got this case, everybody else fought us for it.” 

“I am, but ‘s intimidatin’. I dunno if ‘m cut out fer it,” he says, slowly extending his fingers along the small of my back, and then pulling them back into a fist. In and out. In and out. “What if we can’t win it, Becks?” he asks, lifting his head to meet my eyes, and I wish I couldn’t see the blatant fear held in them. 

“Then we can’t. We can only do our best, Harry, that’s what you’ve always told me.” 

“And what if my best isn’t good enough? Ev’rybody ‘cross tha whole bloody world ‘s watchin’ this case, waitin’ t’ see what happens,” he continues, avoiding my eyes entirely, now tracing the pattern on the front of my blouse. 

“It will be, and it is, Harry. I promise you.” 

His head slowly moves up and down, but no words leave him. His questions bounce off the walls in my mind, replaying themselves, and I only wish that I could express my worry too. I’d certainly grown more confident in my abilities since I started working with him, and I owed it not just to his teachings, but also the confidence that he’s instilled in me. I hadn’t given him the go ahead for us to split a case equal between us, and I never knew when I’d be ready for that, so I’d always leaned on him and his skills, but now I was worried to do that. I’m afraid to, and I’d never been before. 

“Everything will be okay, Harry.” 

“I hope so, Becks,” he croaks, laying his forehead on my chest and his closing eyes flutter against my skin softly. I hold in the sigh that I want to let fall, but instead, I run my fingers through his hair and down his back, unsure of what more I can do. If there was anything I couldn’t be sure of, it was the future and what it held, and how little I knew what was coming.

+

It started that night, daunting and unwilling to let go, and if only I’d known what it was the beginning of. 

I kept checking my phone, staring at the clock that moved like molasses, and waiting for the text that wouldn’t come. Exhaling loudly, I swipe across the screen until his name is waiting for me, and I do it before I can stop myself. 

Are you on your way home yet? It’s supposed to snow tonight, maybe it is already. I don’t want you to get caught in it with bad roads

The word ‘delivered’ appears and then stares back at me, almost taunting me. Before my eyes, it changes to ‘read’ and I wait for the gray bubble to pop up on his side, but it doesn’t. I watch and I wait, and nothing happens. No thumbs up, no text reaction, no ‘b home soon,’ like he so often sends. Not a thing. I forget how long I sit there watching my phone screen, tapping at it when it grows dark, and wishing he’d send something. It got even later when I finally press the lock button and set my phone down on the nightstand, glancing at the alarm clock beside it. 

11:38. 

I tried not to worry and I tried not to overthink it, but I was already past that when I turned off the light. My heart continued to ram against my ribs as I slid under the cold blankets in an empty bed, watching the steady glow of the streetlamp outside the window. I lied there and I tried and I wanted to, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I had a hard time remembering the last time I had slept in a bed without him, even before I moved in we had sleepovers at his. I wasn’t sure how I’d get any sleep for another day of work tomorrow, knowing that I’d be up in seven hours, and so would he. That’s if I could shut off all of this worrying and fall asleep, if only. 

I listen to the whir of cars passing along on the street, and I find myself wishing one of them is his, but it’s too long until it actually is. The space around me had grown warm, but if I move a leg too far, I’m greeted by icy sheets. It had never been that way, I could always move a little and find him and his warmth. Sometimes, I’d wake in the morning and he was all around me, clinging to me and my heat. 

It was in the middle of a long, sleepy blink that I heard a door open downstairs, and shut. It was loud, a clumsy kind of one, and so are the footsteps that soon come up the stairs. A sigh tickles my ears before the door opens slowly with a squeak, and his feet pad through our bedroom. I only see a flash of him before he ducks into the ensuite bathroom with what looks like a handful of clothes. I watch the shadows that interrupt the bar of light under the door, and listen to his whistling and humming amidst the sloshing of running water. 

His eyes are tired when he opens the door again, and they only look all the more exhausted when they find mine in the lit darkness. 

“Why aren’t you sleepin’, bug?” he rasps, stepping forward in his outfit of nothing but joggers donning his legs. He claims that he can’t wear a shirt without getting too warm, because I heat the entire bed, or so he says. Right now, I don’t believe it. 

“I couldn’t . . without you.” 

“Oh, Becks,” he frowns, padding across the hardwood floor and pulling back the sheets to slip under them. “Brr, ‘m cold, warm me up, would ya?”

“Ugh, you’re freezing!” I exclaim, my nervousness melting away into giggles that tickle his neck as he wraps me in his arms. 

“Mmmm, now that’s better.” 

I hum a reply into his chest, dragging my fingers along his spine, touching the wispy baby hairs that cover his body like down. The questions from before still rummage around in my mind, looking for purchase. 

“Why were you out so late?” I decide to ask, smelling the toothpaste we use on my own breath, and then his. 

“Didn’t mean t’, jus’ lost track o’ time with Rore. We had some drinks and I didn’t wanna drive home buzzed, so I waited it out and had some waters.” 

“Good boy,” I reply, nuzzling into his cozy chest, feeling the feathery hair there tickle my face. Yawning, I let my body relax now that mine is finally back with his, one specific question hiding in the back of my mind. “But why didn’t you answer?” I mumble without caution, feeling myself begin to melt into a puddle of sleep against him. 

“Answer what?”

“Your phone,” I drawl, losing the feeling of my fingers and then my feet. 

“Jus’ go t’ sleep, bug. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Okay,” I hum in reply, not even sure of what he’d just said. “Goodnight, Harry. Love you.” 

“Night, my Becks,” he responds with a peck to my head, sounding far away.

+

The tapping of my shoes against the tiling fills my ears as I flip through his mail, noting which ones should go on top for him to see first, and what can remain at the bottom to be forgotten about until later. Something I’d accidentally fall back into the habit of when I returned to the firm, despite being a lawyer now, and not his assistant. Humming a tune I had heard earlier today, I look up and stop in his doorway, finding myself in an odd moment. With his eyes bent down, I can tell that he doesn’t know I’m there yet, and that he does it because he doesn’t see me. 

“What are you doing? It’s nine o’clock,” I titter, covering my mouth when my voice scares him, causing the brown liquid to spill over the side of his mug. 

“God, can ya maybe not scare tha shit outta me next time?” Harry almost retorts, mopping it up with a napkin before screwing the cap back onto the bottle. 

“Harry, I said, what are you doing?” I repeat, click clacking my way into his office and dropping his mail on his desk, yet again. 

“What? ‘s jus’ whiskey. Can I not make my coffee a li’l irish ev’ry now and then?” he questions, lifting the tall mug to his lips to sip from, steaming wafting against his face. 

“I guess so,” I trail off, waltzing back to the sofa and picking up my laptop. Sitting down, I place it on my lap and open it back up, watching the long pull he takes from the mug. Bringing up the internet browser I was using before, I scroll through the document as I try to forget watching him fill the mug nearly half of the way with whiskey.

+

“Harry?” I call out, toeing off my chestnut colored winter boots, hoping he won’t notice the puddle of water next to the shoe mat. He’s such a dad with the things he gets cross about, I swear. “Hello, are you home yet? I brought you some leftovers from Skye’s, you know, for dinner.” 

Padding into the house, I’m met with darkness and a soft silence. I don’t find my boyfriend sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, a show on the telly. I walk past the large flat screen and knock on the door of his study before pushing it open, finding that that room is also dark. 

“Harry, hello?” I almost shout again, taking the steps two at a time until I reach our bedroom, wondering if he was taking a nap after his early morning, or if he happened to not be feeling well. Once again, I come up empty handed, and my head begins to spin as the cogs turn inside of it. 

“Hullo?” the voice on the other side says whilst I pad down the stairs quickly. 

“Hi, where are you?”

“‘m at tha pub with My, why?” he says, and I can tell by the sound of clinking glasses and loud voices coming from his side. 

“Oh, just wondering. I thought you said you were coming straight home to work more on the case,” I begin, intending to continue but I don’t get the chance to. 

“No, I spent all bloody day workin’ on it, why should I spend me night off pourin’ over it too?” he nearly retorts, and I stop in my tracks before the island, taken aback by his tone. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t say you had to or anything, Harry. Is something wrong?”

“No, ‘d jus’ appreciate not havin’ you nag me like yer me mother or sumthin’. ‘m an adult, can’t I go out fer a drink at tha pub afta work? Reckon ‘ve deserved it, dontch’u think?” he continues with a carry to his voice that I don’t like, and it only begins to make sense once I’ve picked out the slur in his words. 

“Yeah, of course, just don’t drink too much, okay? And drive safe. Maybe don’t stay out as late as last night, you have an early meeting.” 

“I jus’ said don’t bloody nag me, and look what ya start doin’,” he bites back and I shudder, taking a seat at the island to steady my feet. 

“I didn’t mean to, Harry, I just care-.” 

“If ya fookin’ care so much, Becky, then stop treatin’ me like a damn baby,” he spits at me, and I hear the dial tone. 

“What the fuck?” I mutter under my breath, pulling my phone away from my ear. I grimace at the image on my lockscreen that only makes the wound sting worse. 

Dinner went down harshly and so did the glass of wine that I had with it although regrettably. Watching FRIENDS without him was a bore and it didn’t last long, afraid I’ll only piss him off further if he came home to see me skipping ahead in our show without him there. I whittled away at the next things to be done in the case - research this, research that, take notes on this, get these statements, bladdy blah. All just to busy my mind and to make the clock speed along until he came home, and hopefully, when things would go back to normal. 

Before I knew it, it was getting late and I was still home all alone. A warm bath didn’t calm my nerves and it only made me wish that he was sitting across from me under the suds, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t lying in the bed waiting for me when I got out, skin all shriveled like prunes, no matter how badly I wished he’d be home after my long bath. He hadn’t walked in the door after I read a chapter from my book, spoke on the phone with my dad, or wrote in my journal. I at last flicked off the bedside lamp and tried to fall asleep in a cold bed, once again.

I woke with a start to a loud slam! downstairs on the main level of the house, presumably a door. Failing to ignore it, I turn over and tug the covers higher, unable to tune out the sound of his loud footsteps climbing the stairs. Sinking lower into the messy covers, I keep my eyes shut and listen to his sloppy movements before they arrive him in the bed next to me with a huff. Words sit in my throat, itching to be said, but I only let one of them out. 

“Harry?”

+

It had become old, very swiftly and very quickly. For the next few nights, I sat alone at home, wondering and waiting for texts that never came, only to fall into a fitful sleep in a cold bed, all alone. I’d awake the next morning to the sound of him emptying his stomach into the toilet, and either leaving for work without me, or being a monumental crab-ass on the drive there. As the days carried on, I couldn’t remember for the life of me the last time his coffees weren’t Irish. I ignored it, and after a few days of doing that, I knew that that’s where my mistakes had begun. 

The door slowly creaked open and dragged in was him, glossy eyed and surprise etched on his features. 

“What d’ya want, mum? Gonna chew me out fer stayin’ out past me bedtime?” he jokes at me, closing the bedroom door behind him as he waltzes in wearing a disheveled version of today’s suit. 

“What’s going on with you?” I ask, twisting the rings around on my fingers, lingering on a new one that had appeared on my hand last week. Sometimes, it hurt to remember that it was there, but I could never get myself to take it off.  

“Oh, here we go,” he sighs, slamming closed a drawer to his wardrobe. Avoiding my eyes, he unclasps his belt and lets his trousers fall to the floor. “Nuthin’s goin’ on with me, I dunno why ya think sumthin’ ‘s.” 

“Yes, there is, Harry. You’ve been out late drinking every night this week, and I’m sick of it!” I confess quietly, unsure of where to find the fervor in my voice, or well, the volume. An ironic laugh curves at his lips as he undoes the buttons of his crimson red shirt. 

“I don’t rememba askin’ how ya felt ‘bout it, or needin’ yer permission eitha,” he retorts, achieving malice and cruel intent in a matter of seconds. It’s all too much when he meets my eyes with his unforgiving stare, and I have to look away. 

“Why are you acting like this?” I say, the incoming tears already decorating my words. His heavy sigh only makes my throat burn worse with its impending dryness. 

“What, are ya gonna fookin’ cry now? Bloody hell, ya can be a brat when ya wanna be,” he slurs, slinking off his button down that hits the floor silently. Sniffling, I look up and watch him slide on pajama bottoms to cover his dark black briefs. 

His tattoos grab at my attention from across the room, but I don’t want to fall asleep tracing them like I would any other night, because that’s not him standing across from me. It may have taken me a few days too long to realize this, but it’s not. That’s not my Harry. No, it’s the Harry that I first met that September day when he barked his Starbucks order at me. 

“It’s the case, isn’t it? It’s taking too much of a toll on you, Harry. You should give it up, or hand it off to somebody else. I don’t like this you, you’re drinking too much and-.” 

“Did I ask fer yer opinion? Y’know what? No, I don’t rememba that. Now, my bloody god, would ya leave it be so I can get some sleep?” he interrupts in a retort, heavy feet padding around to the other side of the bed with a wobbliness to them. He rips back the covers and sits down, grabbing his charger to plug his phone in. Swiping at my cheeks, I grab my pillow and anxiously begin my trek to the door. “Goin’ t’ sleep on tha sofa, are ya now? Good, maybe you’ll stop naggin’ on me then.” 

His voice that usually would lull me to sleep and drive the demons away instead keeps me away, guiding me down the steps until I stop on the last one. My butt burns when it falls onto the wooden step and I bury my face in my knees, my chest shaking with a new sob. 

I eventually scrounge up the might and energy to pull myself off of the staircase and across the room until I collapse onto the sofa, and cry myself into an uneasy sleep. 

The smell of eggs and toast wakes me the next morning, but the illusion is broken when I hear the slam of the door to the garage, and the hum of his car pulling away.

+

The sounds of Mozart and Beethoven meander around my office, but they fail to drive away the incessant thoughts that have buried their way into my mind. They mask the signalling sound of his footsteps that I could pick out from a crowd. 

“Hey, ‘m done with me meetin’ now. Ya wanna come t’ mine and we can finish up the openin’ statement?” he says, but as much as my heart reaches out for him, I can’t do it after the other night. Sure, casual conversation had happened since then, but he had also been missing in action for almost the entire weekend recently. A nice dinner together last night wasn’t enough to wash away the hurt from that night, and all of the others. “Becks?” Harry repeats, taking a step into my office. The door closes with a squeak that I’ve been meaning to ask him to get fixed, but something as simple as that hadn’t seemed possible in the last week, and neither had a kiss or a hug. Not even on our official ten month anniversary that came and went uncelebrated yesterday, despite his urging last week that we should do something to celebrate it. 

“No thanks, I’m fine in here,” I say softly, feeling the eggshells underneath my feet as the words make their way out. 

“Uh, okay,” he answers. “‘ll grab you fer lunch with me mum in an hour then. She picked Henry’s down tha street fer pizza. We haven’t been there in a while,” he finishes, and I wonder how he can manage such small talk after the things he had said to me. I ask and come up empty when I question how I could even let him. 

+

“And again, why are you hiding out in my office?” 

“I’m not hiding out in your office,” I insist, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear before resuming my typing. 

“Uh, yeah you are. You have your own office, don’t you remember?”

“What, I can’t hang out with my friend and work together?” I say, lifting my eyes to meet Asher’s sky blue pair that squint at me in question. He shakes his head with his lips parted, ready to say something, but he just sighs without an answer. 

“What tha hell?” somebody shouts, the blinds on Asher’s door swinging and swaying after the initial shock of its opening. I see Ash’s look before the intruder’s, but I’m afraid that I already know what it will be. 

“Harry-,” I begin, standing to my feet and pushing my laptop to the side, unsure of how I didn’t see this coming. 

“I was waitin’ fer you fer half an hour at tha restaurant, and so was me mum. You stood us up and wouldn’t answer yer fookin’ phone!” he explodes, taking another step inside Asher’s office. Asher begins to say something to him, but I get lucky and push Harry out of the room before he can get a chance to respond. “And you’d been sittin’ in there tha whole fookin’ time?” he continues, his words soon sounding different when I push him into the lift. 

“Now, you know how it feels.” 

“Know how what feels?” he bites back, prying my hand from his arm and taking a step back. I press a button at random and try to push down the hurt I felt when he picked my hand off of him. 

“To be waiting around for you, and to be stood up by you. You’ve been doing it to me for the last week, so it’s only right that you feel a little bit of my pain,” I say curtly, swinging around to face him, watching the smug grin plaster itself to his face as he wipes at his mouth. 

“So, this ‘s ‘bout you, ‘s it? God, what’s fookin’ new?” he sighs with an ironic laugh that feels gross in my ears. 

“No, it’s not about me, Harry, I-.” 

“D’ya know how that looked t’ me mum? I couldn’t get you on tha phone and ya never showed up. Ya made it look like we’re havin’ problems, Becks,” he says, stepping into my sentence, and this only gets me going further. 

“Who’s to say we aren’t, Harry?!” 

“‘Scuse me? We aren’t havin’ problems,” he begins, denying my claim as he uses his hands to talk. “We’re fine!” 

“Yes, we are, Harry! You get drunk every night after work- wait, let me start over. You pregame with Irish coffees all day at work, and then disappear every night to the pub only to come home around midnight out of your mind drunk!” I exclaim, feeling my blood boil as he shakes his head in disagreement, but I wish I could say that I’m surprised. 

“Yer not turnin’ this ‘round on me,” he tuts, pointing a finger at me as ice coats his words. “I have a drink or two at tha pub, there’s nothin’ wrong with that.” 

“It’s not a few drinks, Harry, it’s more than that and it’s becoming a problem! You have a drinking problem!” I insist, wishing I knew the magic key for how to get my words across to him, but they falter and run off on me. 

“I don’t have a drinkin’ problem, Becks, and ‘m gettin’ real fookin’ sick o’ you always monitorin’ me like ‘m a bloody baby! ‘m not, ‘m a grown ass adult, and if ya forgot, ‘m yer bleedin’ boss ‘round here. ‘m not likin’ tha attitude yer havin’ with me and if ya continue it, ‘ll take ya off the Gellar case.” 

“Fine, take me off it. I don’t give one fuck, Harry, because it’s hell working with you on that case. You’re almost drunk all day at work, you give me the shitty jobs to do, and now, here’s a perfect example of you taking your shit out on me!” I argue back, but the fire soon disappears in my words, and with my next ones, I watch it extinguish on his face. “Why are you treating me like this? I-I’m concerned for you and I’m trying to help, and you’re being so mean to me. It’s inexcusable . . I want my Harry back . . I wish you’d never taken this high profile case, because it’s destroying you, and I’m scared that it’ll do the same to us.” 

A flash of my Harry appears on his face, but I don’t wait to watch it disappear, walking off the lift and back onto Seventeen and away from him.

+

My feet seem to have a mind of their own the next day, inching one way and then itching to go in another. I ignore them and remain in my office for another day of sulking, trying to apply myself to this new case with Rose, but it’s a swing and a miss. The buzzing of my phone is something I’ve learned to ignore, but when I see that it’s my dad or Skye, both of whom I’ve neglected to tell about Harry and I, it becomes all the harder. 

That thought is dislodged by the knock at my door, a simple gesture that as of late can send my stomach into somersaults, wondering who it is. I’m reminded too quickly of the times when I sat at that shitty desk in the corner, and how I feel far too much like that person right now. The girl who was unappreciated and who was treated like shit by her boss. 

“Hey. I thought today’s meeting was cancelled, something about Myles being out and the drunk that I regrettably call my boyfriend is well, drunk again,” I say, hoping the man of the hour isn’t passing behind Rose right this second to hear my speech. 

“No, um, it’s still off. I uh . . “

“Spit it out already. What’s wrong?” I ask, screwing open my water bottle and slowly pouring a small stream of water into the succulent on the corner of my desk. Harry’s plant, the very one he’d named Frankie all that time ago. For what reason, I don’t remember. “I don’t know what that look is for, it’s not like my life could get any worse right now . . or can it?”

“It can,” she says, breaking the ice, but I’m not sure if she’s doing it slowly or ripping off the bandaid in one pull. “Harry’s telling people that you quit the case because you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” 

“God, I really am going to kick the shit out of him one of these times,” I groan, setting down the steel water bottle loudly and haphazardly screwing the cap on. 

“Becky, don’t,” she warns me, stepping forward and trying to block my path to the door, but she hasn’t even made a dent. “Starting another row with him isn’t going to help anything. I just saw him and he’s practically asleep at his desk, he’s drunk so much.” 

“I don’t bloody care, I’m not going to let him spread rumors about me, his own fucking girlfriend,” I retort, taking the last step until she’s practically shoving at my shoulders. Huffing, I meet her eyes and for an instant, I feel bad for her and what she’s had to watch. “Rose, don’t. Please. I need to speak to him. I’m sick of his immature teenager act, he’s being a right asshole, and he deserves to be told it.” 

“Fine,” she sighs softly, hands dropping before she steps to the side. 

My feet pound around the corner and down the hall, taking only a few moments until I arrive at his door. I savor the way he jumps in his chair when I slam his door shut, only to sink back into the expanse of pricey leather. 

“What d’ya want? ‘m tryin’ t’ sleep here, haven’t ya noticed?” Harry drawls, sleepily. His eyes flutter closed again and he swallows before trying to get comfortable in his chair again. 

“Well, maybe if you came home at a half decent time each night you wouldn’t be falling asleep at work, but I guess you just can’t put down the bottle, Harry. By the looks of it, you can’t at work, either,” I say, curling my lip when I see the empty bottle of vanilla whiskey sat open on his desk. God, he really is going to get his ass fired or demoted one of these times, not to mention start a smear campaign for the firm. 

“This shit again? I don’t wanna fookin’ hear it, Becks. Give it a rest, ‘m a grown adult, I can do what I please.” 

“So talking shit about me to your coworkers is doing as you please, is it now?” I say, coming out and dealing it, right then and there. Something in him stills and his eyes slowly open and try to focus on me. I think I see apology and regret in them, but I whip off any rose colored glasses I still had on and chuck them to the side. “I’m your girlfriend, Harry . . What the fuck is wrong with you?” I exhale, feeling the first tear when I blink and turn away from him. I try to ignore the pang I feel in my chest when I don’t hear my favorite voice calling my nickname from behind me, but I guess it’s time that he stopped chasing after me. It seems to be coming to an end . . I just wish I’d known when the beginning was. 

After a quiet cry and a few YouTube videos, I meander my way to the break room for my lunch, bumping shoulders with somebody when I walk in the door. Automatic ‘sorrys’ leave our lips as I continue my mission to the fridge where my leftovers sit. Leftovers from another lonely dinner without Harry last night. 

“You alright, Becky?”

“What?” I ask in surprise, at last looking up to find the culprit of the question. “Oh, Myles, hi. I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look it. Harry doesn’t either lately, there isn’t a theme, is there?” he almost jokes, but I don’t laugh as I press random numbers on the microwave. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m alright, thanks. No offense, but you’re kind of the biased best friend. Trust me, I know. I have one of them too.” 

“Well, trust me, ‘cause I’m not,” he insists, and when I look around, pretending to take a gander, my eyes drift to the door habitually. “Here, maybe this’ll help.” 

I watch him cross the room to stick a key into the door and the lock flicks with a metallic sound. 

“What will people do without their tea and lunch? You may as well be starting a mutiny,” I say, trying to lighten the atmosphere around us, but I find it’s no use when he stops at my side with a grim expression. 

“I haven’t seen him drink this much, since well . . you left.” 

“Huh,” I hum, less of a question and more of a realization, one I hadn’t wanted to make. “He’s sure doing a good job of working towards that again . . I hear he’s been saying things about me.” 

“Swear I haven’t heard a thing, and if I did, I wouldn’t believe a word that comes from his drunk ass lately.” 

“It seems you’re the only one,” I laugh almost ironically, but it comes out sounding sad as can be. Hoping and praying, I try to hide the sniffle as the microwave door opens with a pop! 

“Sure I’m not.” 

“Rose told me he���s telling people I left the Gellar case because I was scared, when in truth, he kicked me off it because I’ve been on his ass about staying out late every night drinking,” I risk, staring down at the steaming container of food, forgetting the spoon set to the side to stir it at the halfway mark. “He’s my boyfriend, and my best friend. He’s supposed to protect me from the people who want to hurt me, not become one of them,” I reveal, each word becoming heavier with tears that try to swallow my voice. “Why is he doing this, Myles? This isn’t the Harry I know . . it’s that one I first met.” 

“Oh, Becky,” he sighs, stepping forward and pulling me into a hug. “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you why, I’ve wondered meself . . He’s got issues, even he knows it, but . . he has a hard time of dealing with ‘em. He ignores ‘em instead, with whiskey. You shouldn’t take it like this, it’s not fair to you.” 

“I try. I’ve tried talking to him and being nice about it, but he doesn’t listen to me. He won’t stop drinking and it scares me, how he acts and the things he says,” I confess in a blubbery voice against his suit jacket. “I never thought I’d have to do this and I hate that I have to . . but I don’t want him to be my mentor anymore, Myles, please. Maybe Rose, instead. Can you do it without him finding out and getting even more mad at me?”

“Yeah, I can sneak it past him, don’t worry.” 

“I wish I could,” I nearly whisper, pulling away and grabbing the hot container whilst I swipe at my wet cheeks, ignoring the burning heat against my skin, knowing that that’s the mildest pain I’ve felt in days.

+

A few days later, I’m greeted by darkness and silence after the key clicks in the lock, and my footstep is the first sound in the house. 

“You’re sure you want to do this?” the words echo inside of my skull, but I can’t find the confidence I had when I had first heard them, when I need it so badly right now. “I’ll support whatever decision you make, Ree, and you know you always have a place to stay here.” 

“Thanks, Skye,” I had said then, and I mutter now too as I stop in front of our bedroom door. The quiet embeds itself into every nook and cranny, but I welcome it and only wish that it could replicate itself in my mind. 

The pounding of my heart grows louder when I push the door open, and the beginning tears don’t mask it when I drop the suitcase onto the bed. The sounds only worsen as I open drawers and take items out to fill the zippers, leaving an emptiness behind that couldn’t compare to that I hold inside of me. 

My head moves every which way, trying to memorize the sights around me, but all I see and all I hear are the rows we’d had the last few nights here. In the kitchen after he tried to sneak inside reeking of whiskey, or the night before in the living room when he came home shouting at me about why I didn’t finish the opening statement, despite being dropped from his case. Then another over him growing mad with me for not answering my phone, deciding if he wasn’t going to answer my texts and calls, then why should I bother to answer his. 

I feel the grooves and the raised edges, sure I’d at least memorized those as I pull it from my pocket, watching the color blur before my eyes. My thumb slides across the medal wet from my uncontrollable tears, and at last, I place it on the island counter with a small clack!, finally letting go. 

“What’re ya doin’?” a voice says softly out of nowhere. Spinning around, I blink back the tears until Harry focuses in front of me. His thick eyebrows furrow above his murky greens, and only then do I see his boots kicked off by the doorway that had gone unnoticed by me, and his coat draped over the staircase newel. 

“H-Harry,” I stutter, swallowing against a dry throat that deprives me of any explanations I could muster. 

“Becks, what’re ya doin’? It looks like . . . ,” he trails off to look at the item, his words escaping him until they shine brightly in his eyes, and wrench at my heart. “Looks like yer movin’ out, and without even tellin’ me. What, was I supposed t’ come home t’night t’ find yer key on tha counter, and piece it all t’getha meself? And tha night befo’ I leave fer me case? How in tha hell ‘s that any fair, Becks?” 

“Harry, I- please-.” 

“No, why should I let ya explain? It doesn’t seem ya were gonna bother t’ leave me a note or even break it t’ me,” he continues quietly with astonishment wild on his face, and in his voice that smells rough and hard with alcohol. 

“Harry, I was just going to stay at Skye’s tonight and while you were away. I-.” 

“Then why leave tha key, huh?” he asks, voice growing firm and so does the green in his eyes. “God, ‘m so sick o’ arguin’ with you, seems that’s all we do lately. ‘m jus’, ‘m done, Becks. I really am.” 

“Harry, no. Please, don’t say that. You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying,” I say hurriedly, stepping forward and dropping the bag. It hits the floor with a bang! just as he turns away while dragging a hand down his face. 

“I know what ‘m sayin’, Becks, and I know ‘m done dealin’ with all o’ this shit. Fer havin’ such an ungrateful girlfriend who nit picks ev’ry li’l thing I do, ‘cuz ‘s jus’ never good enough fer her.” 

“Harry, that’s not true,” I sob, following him with my steps that feel more heavier as I continue, but he seems to be moving further and further away from me. 

“It ‘s tho’, y’know it ‘s. ‘m . . . ‘m doin’ it fer you, ‘kay? ‘m doin’ what ya can’t do, ‘m callin’ it. We’re done, we’re breakin’ up. We both knew it was comin’,” he mutters, and I no longer can make out the sounds in his voice or what it holds, because I can barely see him through the waterfall of tears. 

“Please, Harry, I don’t want to break up. I’m sorry.” 

“Sometimes sorry doesn’t cut it, isn’t that whatch’u say t’ me?” he retorts, at last stopping to face me fully. The splashes of black and brown covering his body turn ashier and darker the longer I look, but it doesn’t compare to the look on his face. 

“But I love you . . and I know that you love me too.” His eyes run away from me and finally, so do his words. “Harry, say it back, please. We can just pretend this didn’t happen, and go to bed together. We can sleep it off and talk about it in the morning before your flight,” I cry, watching his face devoid of emotion show me nothing when I can’t stop showing him. When I could never learn how to close myself off to him, he finally learned how to close his book to me so I could stop reading him. 

He stares at the floor, his only movements are his eyes blinking and his hand scratching at the back of his head. The seemingly permanent glossiness to his eyes wavers and tears appear in them, but something pulls me backwards and away from him. I take the steps and wish that they could rewind time too, but they only bring me to the case that I place in my hand without deciding to. I look up and walk over to him, unsure of when my legs had begun to move, or if my body was doing all of this for me, because it figured out that I can’t. I just, I can’t. 

“Go, Becks, ‘kay? ‘ve made me mind up, we’re over. Leave befo’ tha snowstorm gets too bad,” Harry announces in an absent, choked voice, his hand falling from his head as my chest shakes with sob after sob. His eyes budge up a little but they avoid mine entirely, and so does he as he walks around me and up the stairs. 

I don’t remember deciding to walk out the front door, or getting into my car, but I’m there when I curl inward on myself as tears cascade down my face. I’m fully there as the stitches that he put in my heart are ripped open and all of the memories that he filled my heart with spill out, stinging one by one. I’m there as I watch the lights in the house turn off and the one for our bedroom turns on, and I immediately correct myself, knowing that it’s not ours anymore. I sit there until I can muster the energy to drive, telling myself that he’s not mine anymore, and I was a right idiot for ever telling myself that he was.

+

The sheets are cold when the blaring of the alarm awakens me, and I turn over, inching a foot across the mattress in search. It’s met with only coldness and I slowly peel my eyes open, searching with them now, for her. Sitting up, I rub a knuckle into my bleary eyes, trying to focus my sight on the emptiness on the other side of the bed. 

Questions fill me and answers fleet me as I pad down the stairs and past the front door, arriving in the kitchen. Turning a light on, I squint at the sudden brightness that sends throbs through my head. It’s accompanied by another throb when I spot the lone purple key sitting on the marbled countertop, away from the half burned candle and the cribbage board with a deck of cards atop it. 

I’m not sure how I got there, but I feel the cold of the wood floor all around me next, accompanied by the hot tears flowing down my cheeks. The answers come fast and painful in my insides, and opening my eyes, I watch last night replay before me, and what I did. What I did to her, and to us. Myles’ words over the last few weeks resound in my head, and they won’t stop. 

“The fuck are you doing? You’re going to screw everything up if you don’t stop before it’s too late!” 

“It is too late,” I mutter under my breath, feeling the cool wooden floor beneath my forehead as I curl inside myself, wishing she could come and save me. But that’s the last thing that’s going to walk in that door, because I made it so she has to save herself, and so do I.

+

Violins and harps dance around my empty office, and I try not to look up and lose myself in the images of memories that seem to stick to every corner of the room. Him opening birthday presents on the sofa, the makeout sessions on the same piece of furniture, the almost first kiss by my window, the first time I saw my office with him in tow, and all of the times he’d work over my shoulder planting kisses along my neck. So many more of them float around the space vying for my attention, but it’s stolen away when there’s a rap on my door. 

“Come in,” I say automatically, looking back at my computer screen, putting back on the mask that I’ve donned for however long it’s been now since it all started, and the three days since he left. The ‘I’m okay’ mask, something I can’t even believe. 

“Look at my pretty girl,” they say, and despite the way I could never mistake that very voice, for a split second I want to and wish that I could be right in my mistaking. It takes more than I have to look away and up at him, and the tears are already close and on their way when he smiles the saddest kind of one at me. 

“Dad, what are you doing here?” I ask in near alarm, standing to my feet, afraid of what his answer might be. His lips fall flat and my confirmation is right there, although I’m unsure if I ever needed it, because he speaks for it himself. 

“Skye told me what happened with Harry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he almost coos, and holds out his arms before I could ask. They’re open for mere seconds before they close around me and my shaking figure. “It’s okay, Boops, I’m here. It’s all going to be okay.” 

“No, it’s not. I don’t know if there will ever be a time again that I feel okay,” I sob into his shoulder, gradually finding my words and feeling the sting of having to repeat it for the second or third time. The sting grows worse remembering the morning after crying on Skye’s lap and not knowing if I’d ever be able to stop. No matter what time it is, it never gets easier. I don’t think if I’d had any warning, it would’ve been any less harder.

+

The raucous of laughter, shouts, and praises sound outside the door and I wish I knew why. Shaking my head at the obscene volume, I flip to the next page of the magazine, finding DIY Christmas decorations that according to this magazine, everybody and anybody can make. 

“No, thank you,” I mutter to myself, completely vetoing Christmas this year, despite knowing that I’ll have to make it to Madley for the traditional weekend spent at my dad’s in only a few weeks. I just don’t know how I’m going to manage it knowing the person I can’t take with me anymore whose name will be on presents sitting under the tree. The same name claims gifts that I’d hidden in the attic at ho- at his home, long forgotten by now, or I wish. 

“Hell, you really do get prettier ev’ry day,” somebody mumbles from behind me, and I pause mid page flip. I’m glad that I wasn’t holding my tea, or else I know it’d be painted all over the front of my heather gray dress. Now, that would be a disaster, but I know it doesn’t compare to the one that intends to unfold within the next few moments. Swallowing hard, I silently turn to the next page and ignore the greeting. 

“Ya weren’t at me welcome home party that the firm threw fer me.” 

“There wasn’t enough room,” is all I say, neglecting to mention that I had no idea until now, despite should’ve knowing how the pieces went together. His appearance. The loud voices and cheering just outside the door that’s only a few steps from the lift. It’s my saving grace for how I was rarely ever late back in the day. “You won it,” I remark, sure it’s less of a question and more of a statement. 

“I did.” 

“Congrats, you put on a good defense from what I hear,” I announce in a voice devoid of the emotion that usually accompanies that word. 

“Thanks . . but I don’t deserve it,” he begins shyly, and I hold back my response that only eggs his self-deprecation on. “I dunno how I did it tho,’ ‘cuz all I could think ‘bout tha whole I was there was you. Ev’ry second fer that entire week it was, ‘what ‘s Becks doin’?,’ ‘what’ll I say t’ her when I get home,’ ‘what can I say t’ her,’ ‘I dunno what t’ do at this part, what would she do?’” he pours out, and I gulp past the impending desert that’s signalled its return. No, I’d made it a few days now without them, I can’t break that streak now. No, not now. Please. 

“It seems you didn’t need it, you did just fine without me,” I answer bleakly, aware of the knives that my voice holds and how they stab with the voice devoid of anything happy and bright. 

“That’s not true,” he argues, and I hear the first step, and feel it in the hairs rising on the back of my neck. I feel it in the squeeze of my heart and the goosebumps on my arms that long for his touch and also fear it. I hear the crack in his voice and the wet sniffle that plays in the empty room. “I couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you and how I fooked ev’rythin’ up, even befo’ I left. I woke up that mornin’ and knew ‘d done it . . ‘d jus’ been home befo’ here and all o’ yer things were gone, and I never thought comin’ home could be so fookin’ hard . . I-I tried so many times t’ get ahold o’ you but ya wouldn’t answer, and I can’t blame ya. I can’t believe how I treated you, Becks, and ‘m so fookin’ sorry . . . I haven’t touched a bleedin’ drop since that last night, and I never want t’ ‘gain. I never want t’ go that long without talkin’ t’ you ‘gain, it felt like I was losin’ me mind ev’ry fookin’ day missin’ you so badly. Meant it when I said ‘m not sure how I won tha case when I couldn’t get you off me mind.”

“Get used to it,” I retort, closing the magazine swiftly and spinning around. Flashes of color greet me, but I turn away from his figure and make for the door. 

“Becks, please, don’t,” he begs in a voice spilling with emotion. “‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry,” he whimpers, the warmth of his fingers pressed to mine feeling like the first rays of sun in the spring. Ripping my hand from his, I don’t let him try to melt the ice that he planted inside of me. 

“No, Harry, you don’t get to just waltz in here and sorry your way out of this. It’s not that easy this time,” I say, hoping he feels the bite of my words, but I see it when I take the leap and look into those endless greens. “You really fucking hurt me, Harry . . You were my best friend and you hurt me more than anybody I know . . You were supposed to protect me from others doing that to me, but you did it too. How can I ever trust you again?” I begin to cry, knowing that it’s about to be Niagra in here if I don’t skedaddle. Whimpering, I dash out of the door with the image of his flooded sage eyes stinging in my own, and how my heart lurches at the regret of not wiping them away.

+

His eyes drift repeatedly from the floor to ceiling window and back to his wrist, tapping at it only to walk away with disappointment. He may have closed his book to me, but I still remember so many of the pages, and I can’t figure out how I could ever stop knowing what they say. After Myles finishes speaking about the upcoming elder’s meetings, his bottom lip becomes caught between his teeth like a vice, and then I know it’s bad. I look away when a few too many seconds have followed, risking that he’ll catch my stare. If he’s found it in the recent few days since we last spoke in between tears and in between pages of a magazine, he hasn’t made it known. 

I feared this team meeting, the first one with him back and sitting at the helm with Myles. He looks fresher and no longer sporting the alcohol sweats and beard, but something is still missing. He’d gotten his hair cut and it’s hardly any different, but it’s not that. His suits are perhaps a little more wrinkled, but that’s not the last puzzle piece, either. I knew what it was, but I didn’t want to say it. No, not after I saw the way he smiled at his new intern, Frankie, she called herself. Francine something or other, it is. Beats me. I’m sure she probably had a name for each of her boobs as well, seeing as how they could probably be seen from space. I watched her admire him too, but I doubted she saw the circles under his eyes, or the way his lips looked like they’d never smile again. I was almost positive she couldn’t see the way his suits hung a little looser on him, or how he rubbed the naked skin of his left hand’s middle finger, missing something. 

I wondered whether or not to linger once everybody was dismissed, but even if I had wanted to, how could I? She followed him like a puppy. I hope I had never done that, or that somebody would have put me out of my impending doom- I mean misery, if I had been. He walked out of sight, and somehow, all I could think about is how the back of his head is still just as cute, and so is his bum. 

Several coffee refills and trips to the loo commenced until I found myself pulled to his doorway, pretending to be walking to Gwen or Rory’s office. God forbid, I ever give that asshole the time of day, I’d never hear the end of it. For the first time, Ms. Boobs is missing in action, and I never thought I could be more grateful for somebody’s absence. Last week only seemed to argue with that, now that I think of it, and how something inside of me warmed every time I saw him in the hallways. It sparks until a fire ignites when I catch sight of his backside facing me until it turns around, and at last, I’m caught. 

Defeat covers his features and the surprise inches away, leading him to look down at his messy desk. “Hi,” I say, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my slacks, still wishing they made fleece lined ones. 

“Hey,” he returns in a squeak that shrinks in comparison to his beautiful voice. 

“It’s today, isn’t it? Your gran’s surgery . . the hip?” I ask, taking one step forward, and then it’s two. 

“Ya,” he hums in reply, sorting through what appears to be an overflowing stack of mail that’s been forgotten since his trip. 

“How’d it go?”

“She’s still in. I keep waitin’ t’ hear sumthin’ but there’s nuthin’,” he answers plainly, tearing certain envelopes in half and others automatically go into the bin for shredding. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sure everything will be okay, she’s really healthy and strong, Harry.” 

“I dunno, Becks, ‘m so worried. It shouldn’t take this long,” he sighs, bringing a hand to his face while his head goes back and forth. It’s only a moment until I hear the hiccuping of his breath and the sound of tears shed against skin. 

Against better judgement, or any for that matter, he’s in my arms in seconds. My hands are running courses up and down his back, even daring a go at his hair now and then, whilst he sheds sadness into my neck. 

“Everything will be okay, Harry,” I insist, and which he only shakes his head at. “It will be, you just have to believe it. I have a feeling.” 

“How can ya say that? How ‘m I s’posed t’ believe that, Becks?” he whimpers, pulling away and staring at me bleary eyed with tears coating his cheeks. “I dunno that there’ll ever be a time ‘gain where things are okay,” he finishes, spinning on his heel and escaping down the hallway, leaving me high and dry. I only wish that my eyes could claim that truth, as well, but that’d be a lie.

+

It smelled of metal and disinfectant around me, but I tried to drown it out with the images I scroll through. The electronic beeping wormed its way into my thoughts, but I welcomed the respite from the chaos toiling around in there. Images of friends and casual strangers litter my Instagram feed and instead of looking away when the dinging stops, I continue to look, distracting myself. That in itself seems to be my job for the last few weeks, owned by the number one job of not thinking about it. It’s followed by another important task of not crying in public, and saving it for at home despite the place owning that name changing recently. I’ve failed at all of those jobs the second I think about the person who I called my home for so long now, and can’t any longer. 

The smell is what gets me at first, and immediately, the pictures are forgotten. I know before I look up that the facade is broken. Then, everything is shattered within a few moments, no matter how good I’ve gotten at ignoring him, or pushing down the feelings when I see him across the table at a team meeting. I’ve gotten good at the pretending part, but the only person I’ve never been able to do that around is the very one who accompanies me on the elevator now. My bad luck echoes when I finally chance a glance and I leave it for too long, because then he looks up and meets my eyes. 

Harry. My home . . but he’s not that any longer. 

“Hi,” he risks with a gentle curve of his lips, and a gentleness in his eyes that he once held in his hands for me too. A softness that never left him once I worked my way into his heart all of those years ago, it’s one that I still can’t allow myself to get rid of. 

“Hi,” I return curtly, tearing my eyes away from him, and his new suit. An ensemble a shade of mauve with a raven black button up underneath. Spiffy, indeed. It feels like a mini marathon to look away from that suit, and how it hugs him in all of the right places. The biceps, the chest, opens at his widely attractive throat, reminds me of the base that we never hit when my eyes venture too low, and his bum. No, I can’t see it from my view right now, but I’d made sure to have seen it earlier today. 

“‘s good timin’, I was wonderin’ if we could talk,” he ventures out on a limb to say, and my eyes are rolling before he gets to finish. 

“I don’t want to talk, Harry.” 

“Becks, please, jus’ lemme finish, bug,” he says, and I wonder how he can be so gutsy to use those two coveted names in one sentence. Despite his bravery, the gesture does its job, and I gulp against the longing that climbs up my throat. 

“No, you don’t get to. You haven’t earned that just yet.”

“What d’I have t’ do, Becks?” Harry questions in a sigh, a hand dragging through his hair. It falls with an impatient slap to his thigh. 

“I dunno, Harry, maybe you shouldn’t have become a neglectful drunk in the first place,” I retort, stepping forward to stab the button of the closest floor, so I don’t have to do this. 

“How many times d’I hafta say ‘m sorry? I could say it a hundred times and ‘s not gonna be enough, ‘s it?”

“No, it won’t,” I answer, continually hitting the button. 

“Stop pushin’ it, yer gonna break it or sumthin,’” he warns, and just like he said, the contraption lurches to a stop. “Now, look what ya did.” 

“I didn’t break the bloody elevator, Harry.” 

“Sure, ya didn’t,” he sighs and even in the near dark, I know that he’s biting at his lip beside me. 

Huffing, I step back until my back hits the wall, watching him in the soft glow of the emergency lights. Slowly, that night from Halloween comes back to me. I watch how he pulls his phone out and dials a number and talks to some invisible person, just like the time before. His fingers card through his hair similarly, and his lips utter sighs and curses like then too. 

“‘s tha snowstorm, ‘s shut off tha power in tha entire firm,” he announces after saying goodbye and pulling his phone away from his ear. “They’ll get t’ us but it might be a while.” 

“Doesn’t the firm or at least the elevator have a backup or something?”

“I dunno, ‘m tha lawyer, Becks, not a bloody mechanic. I don’t deal with that shit,” he mutters with a shake of his head, typing away on his phone. 

Groaning loudly, I slide down the sleek metal wall of the elevator until my bum meets the cold and dirty floor, just like before. 

“I guess we’re stuck with each other for a while then, it’s your dream come true,” I mumble while folding my arms across my chest. He flits his eyes over to me only to roll them before looking away. “Oh, so you don’t want to talk to me now?”

“No, ‘d rather not, if yer not gonna try and listen t’ me,” he admits sadly, stepping back and leaning against the wall. A similar sound leaves my lips and I look down at my lap until my eyes habitually return to him. I finally let myself look at him for the first time in, what, a month? It seems like a lifetime ago that I could at last look at him for however long I wanted without it being weird or him saying something. Without my hidden feelings being betrayed. “There’s mo’ t’ do than jus’ stare at me, y’know.” 

“Sorry,” I whisper, looking to my lap and turning a ring around my finger absentmindedly. 

“Ya still wear it?” 

My eyes dance to him without a decision to do so, like they so often did, and my nod is immediate as well. His smile seems rather instantaneous too, appearing before my eyes as I watch him. His ring on my hand had caught my eye, one of his I’d stolen at the before everything went to shit and slid it on my thumb. It’s the only finger it’d fit on, and I’d almost forgotten it was there, but it’d become a nervous habit of mine as of recent, although hypocritical in the slightest. 

“I thought you’d taken it off, hadn’t seen ya wear it.” 

“It felt too weird not wearing it,” I reveal softly, embarrassment fighting for a spot in my voice, but I’m not sure if that’s how it could be described. 

“I guess that says sumtin’, or ‘least I hope it does,” Harry says, looking to his feet with a sad laugh that’s short, like a staccato. This all feels like one, a standalone chapter. Perhaps an episode from The Twilight Zone, almost. 

“You were my best friend, Harry, that’s not something you just forget,” I say quietly, unsure of if he hears me, but his nod tells me so. If that hadn’t, the emotion that swells in his face does it for me. 

“Then why did you?” he asks, meeting my eyes and I find the pain in my heart matched in the greens. A shade I’ve missed so immensely, and that grows hazy in moments. “Why’d you forget about me?”

“You really hurt me, Harry. I never thought you could hurt me so much.” 

His sniffling encourages the tears that flow from my eyes to join his just as the sound of his footsteps initiates him sitting down beside me. At first, it feels too close and too dangerous, but then I look at the gap that separates us. It’s been larger and unbreakable before, but somehow, this feels exponential too. It somehow had returned after its departure when I had pressed my lips to his, because after that, neither of us let it live again, and we always took the step that wasn’t there. 

“So, what do I say if I can’t say sorry?” he says in a voice choked with pain, propping his arms on his bent knees out of the corner of my eye, holding his wrist with a circle of fingers. 

“I dunno,” I answer tearfully, wiping below my waterline, wishing I had the answers so that all of this could stop. “I wish I knew, but I don’t. If I knew I’d tell you, because then this all could be over, and I could stop missing you so fucking much every literal second. Then I could stop getting jealous of that booby intern who won’t stop throwing herself at you. I tried not to be jealous by not caring, but I couldn’t lie to myself, because I do care and I always will, Harry. I’ll always miss you . . in bed next to me with your arms always waiting for me, your face at our table at Pedro’s on Tuesdays waiting there for me, every day after work waiting on my sofa until I’m ready to go home with you . . ,” I trail off in a sob, thoughts bubbling inside of my lips but they become too hard to speak. 

“‘m still waitin’, Becks, ‘ve never stopped since that day I first met you,” he says in a voice softer than marshmallows and sweeter than honey. “‘ll always be waitin’ fer you.” Since that first day I had met him, you never could’ve made me believe that looking into his face I’d see a mirror, but I believe it more today than I ever thought I could. Because I am, in the way the tears silently fall down his cheeks, the openness of his eyes that beg for me, and the way that mine beg for him too. 

“‘s it true ya put in yer two weeks?” Quickly, I shrink and I avoid, ignoring everything altogether, but if I’ve learned one thing through this all is that I can’t do that as badly as I wish I could. “‘m still yer boss, Becks, sumthin’ like that can’t get away from me. I saw tha letter on My’s desk one day and when he saw me readin’ it, he told me . . Becks, please don’t leave. Yer learnin’ so much and we all love you here. Yer doin’ so well, and there’s so much I want t’ teach you. Turner and Jones ‘s . . . ‘s not yer home, love, this ‘s yer home.” 

“I thought you were my home once and I was wrong,” I don’t know why I say it, but I do, and immediately I regret it. Without seeing him, I know that he wishes I hadn’t said it too, by the intake of air and the way he turns away from me. 

“Y’know, I think ‘ll get sick o’ fightin’ fer you, but I don’t. I get tired, but I don’t get sick o’ it. I never wanna stop. I wanna tell our kids one day that I never stopped fightin’ fer you, and sometimes I think it’ll happen. But, I dunno- When I saw you kiss that bloke, I stopped believin’ in it.” 

Gulping, my eyes find him immediately and the tears ricochet throughout my body from his words. The sounds of his crying prick at my ears, but I don’t see them fall down his face, just the way he plays with his lips. 

“Harry-.” 

“I love you and ‘m sorry. ‘ll never stop showin’ you that fer tha rest o’ me life, what more do I hafta do?” he begs, turning to face me. My heart squeezes inside of my chest at the mere sight, and my lips press themselves together. “But if ya- if ya tell me that . . yer happy with him, then ‘ll stop. I want yer happiness mo’ than mine,” he croaks, words stolen from him at times as mine are drowned in salt water. 

Whimpering, the sight of my hands wringing each other appears in front of me, and then his pained sigh meets my ears. Hiccups rack my chest and I stop hiding the crying, listening to it echo off of the walls that remain still around us. 

“His name’s Ben-.” 

“I know who he ‘s,” he says gingerly, but with disdain that tries to push me back, and make me stop. “‘ve argued cases against him . . both lost and won.” 

“I met him during my clinicals there, he-.” 

“I don’t wanna hear ‘bout him, Becks, I-I can’t,” Harry announces firmly, standing to his feet and beginning to walk in circles. 

“I ended things with him last week, not that there was much to end . . that same day you must have seen us kiss outside the courts . . after he shoved me to the floor that night. And he wasn’t you, nobody else could ever be you.”

“What?!” he nearly explodes, the words ringing loudly in my ears again and again as they resound off of the walls. “Oh, that bloke’s not gonna know what hit him when I get my fookin’ hands on him.” 

“Harry-.” 

“Tell me that you don’t want me t’ beat tha shit outta him, Becks,” Harry insists, but with my eyes not looking at him, I remain silent. “That’s what I thought . . Bloody minute this lift starts workin’ ‘gain, ‘m gonna make him regret ever touchin’ you.” 

Nodding, I brush the back of my hand against my nose and feel a sob overcome me. My shoulders fall and I pull my knees into my chest, soon feeling the tears soak through my slacks. 

“Aw, honeybug,” he sighs pitifully, and at last, one of my dreams comes true when I feel him surround me with his warmth. Him. “I had no idea you’ve been dealin’ with that, ‘m so fookin’ sorry, Becks. ‘m so sorry you’ve had so much shit t’ deal with, ya don’t deserve any o’ this. He’s a fookin’ sorry excuse fer a man fer doin’ that t’ you and trust me ‘m gonna make him sorry. He’s a right wanker, and he only ever won one case against me, anyways. Damn idiot, he ‘s.” 

Swallowing dryly, I meet his eyes and receive anything but that. The green is drowned in tears nearly, and I know that my blue is, too. 

“Reckon ‘m not much betta than him, afta all,” Harry confesses with a fight played in his eyes. 

“No, you’re nothing like him, Harry,” I coo, reaching out a hand to cradle his cheek, thumb swiping at tears. 

“Yer right, ‘m much worse than him fer how I treated you.” 

“What? Harry, no, you’re not. I know you’d never lay a hand on me,” I confess in a voice that cracks, breaths laden with unsaid words, and so many that I don’t know how to say. Nodding, his eyes leave mine and his arms prematurely do too, and I only feel worse. “Talk.” 

“What?” he whispers, quirking a brow at the floor. 

“Talk, Harry . . like you had wanted to . . to me,” I explain, my hand lingering on my knee, so close to his. Bravely, it finds the courage and reaches out towards him, finding the warmth soon after between his fingers. 

“‘ve rehearsed it so many bloody times in me head, but now, I actually get t’ talk t’ you and I can’t rememba,” he admits softly with shame painting his voice, and an out of place smile. “All I know . .  ‘s that I miss you and it scares me how much I can miss you sittin’ at a meetin’ with you across tha table. I miss you like you’ve gone . . but inna way, you have. I miss you in so many ways, walkin’ in tha door at home t’ you, findin’ you’d claimed me sofa again fer anotha day workin’ t’getha, or even that you’d be usin’ one o’ me favourite coffee mugs or jumpers. I miss those small things, and then, I even miss wakin’ up next t’ you, talkin’ t’ you ‘bout songs, ‘bout art, or gettin’ yer advice on a recipe or an argument inna case. ‘d missed you like mad befo’, but nuthin’ compares t’ this. Didn’t know I could miss somebody so much that ‘m always sore from it, that I ache when I see you and can’t touch you or talk t’ you. I lost it when I saw him kiss you, I went and vomited in tha car park befo’ goin’ home t’ cry in bed. Our bed. I wanted a drink and thought ‘bout it . . I even had one and I felt worse, knowin’ that it only made it mo’ likely ‘d never get ya back then. Thought seein’ that I.T. intern flirt with you in tha copier room hurt, but god, that was nuthin.’” 

“You try seeing that intern who dresses like a hooker be all over you,” I tut, refamiliarizing myself with the grooves and peaks on his rings. 

“Are ya quite finished?” he almost giggles and I nod with a fleeting smile. 

“It hurt not seein’ you reject him and then ‘course My’ had t’ guilt me ‘bout it, and -.” 

“Okay, that’s enough talking,” I announce inside of my head with a shake of it, my lips parting to utter the same declaration. But I’m interrupted almost immediately, and so is Harry by the whirring and movement of the lift starting up again. 

“Looks like tha power came back on or sumthin’,” he mumbles, standing to his feet as the lights flick back on. 

“Yeah, looks like,” I say under my breath, so many more ready to be spoken but they’re whisked away when the doors part on Seventeen and soon, we’re ambushed with concerned colleagues who mistake our tears for fear. Quickly, so much was forgotten, but what hurt was how easily we both did it too.

+

The notes of cinnamon and nutmeg cling to my tongue, accompanied by the sweetness of the last traces of whipped cream. With a sigh, I set down the mug and hear its emptiness fill my ears. I continue to dance my eyes across the page, soaking up the words that I try to drown myself in. The dinging of the bell atop the door interrupts the words echoing in my mind, as do the clap of footsteps entering the cafe amongst the soft Christmas music. Without fail, they attempt to weed their way into my heart, making me think that they’re his, but everything sounds like him and feels like him as of late. 

Pushing it away, I shake my head free of the nagging thoughts and start the sentence over. At the sound of a voice that steps into my mind, the words are forgotten, and no rereading them could ever bring them back to me. 

“Since when d’ya read ol’ granny romance books?” 

Tearing my eyes away from the imaginative words, I find the pair of green eyes that I’ve been avoiding and longing within all of the same breaths. 

“I see yer mug ‘s empty. Can I buy you anotha?” he murmurs with his charming smile that finds its old way back to me, and into my heart. Just like all of those times before. 

“I uh, was actually just leaving,” I mutter, the book already having closed when my hands left it in shock. Picking it up, I drape my purse over my shoulder and walk away from him. No matter if it doesn’t take the cake for how much it hurts to do so, the pain still stings in my mind and every inch of my limbs. 

“Becks, wait!” he calls after me, the clanging of the bell loud and obnoxious in my ears. The winter cold shocks my warmed skin when I step back into it. “I wanna talk t’ you ‘bout sumthin’, yer two week-.” 

“I don’t want to,” I retort, rounding a corner and searching for the familiar sight of my car parked on the street. I’m feeling cold rather than hot in finding it before his always gentle hands settle on my shoulders. He turns me around to face him, once again finding those piercing greens that root me to the spot. 

“I thought we could still be friends, Becks. Y-Yer me best friend, I can’t lose you as a friend too, bug. Please,” he pleas, but I’m spinning around before the last of his syllables grace my ears. 

My head shakes from side to side, willing my eyes to dry up and forget their recent best friend that drowns my sights in a haze. My lips sing with pain from my teeth sinking into them as my face collapses from the debilitating weight of misery. 

“I-I can’t. We can’t, you know that, Harry.” 

“Why not, Becks?” he begs, the cool feeling of his rings welcomed by my flushed skin. 

“I shouldn’t have to tell you when you know why,” I spit back, sure that three seconds ago he had already heard the tears in my voice. The multitudes of words shared between our lips over the last ten months has only led me to open myself to him further, and I still can’t figure out how to close my book from him reading. 

“I dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout, Becks.” 

“It only took you a month, Harry?!” I exclaim, unsure of whether I’m making a statement or posing a question. 

“Care t’ clue me in what yer talkin’ ‘bout, ‘cuz I still dunno?” he replies with an exasperated sigh. I rip my wrist from his gentle grasp, the sooner the better because I knew another second longer and I’d let it live there. If I stand here another second longer, I may let myself float back to him. 

“You’re already over me and with somebody new after only a month, huh?” I respond curtly, turning around slowly to face him as the first hot tear cascades down my cheek. 

“Becks,” he sighs, the emotion carried in his voice spreading across his unshaven face. A whimper escapes my lips as the sob trembles throughout my chest, my lips returning to their permanent frown. My heart shudders at his expression and the confirmation I hear in it, making my head shake quickly from side to side. “I still dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout, love. ‘m not datin’ anyone, y’know tha only person I wanna be with ‘s you. N’body else in tha entire world I wanna date and love fer tha rest o’ me life . . Where ‘s this comin’ from, bug?” 

“Wait, what?” I exhale, blinking away the tears that I’m afraid to believe hold lies and forgotten fears. 

“‘m not with anybody new, Becks. I dunno what people are sayin’, but ‘m not. You know tha only person I wanna be with ‘s you,” he repeats with emphasis, stepping forward and pulling my hands into his. “What’s goin’ on, bug?” 

“I don’t know,” I exhale shakily, leaning into his hand that cups my cheek, wiping away the wetness coating my skin. “People at the firm were saying they overheard you talking about some girl you were gonna ask out and were trying to win over.” 

“Oh that,” he snickers, the dimples hinting at his cheeks when I dare a look. No matter how hard I’d ever try, the high pitched song that flows from his lips could never stop being my favorite, and my ears welcome it with a familiar warmth. “That was ‘bout you, bug. I was bouncin’ ideas off o’ sumbody ‘bout takin’ you onn’a date. Well, it was actually havin’ you ova t’ mine fer dinna and watchin’ FRIENDS, jus’ like tha old times. Reckon Rore misheard and his big mouth spewed it t’ ev’rybody. That fookin’ git, I swear t’ God, he’s a bloody bastard sumtimes.” 

“Yeah, it was him, now that I think of it,” I admit quietly, peering down at our joined hands and our mingling rings, just like all of the times before. 

“‘m gonna fookin’ knock him out one o’ these times, I swear t’ it. He’s been such an arse lately, and he thinks I didn’t see it, but I did see him flirtin’ with you tha otha day.” 

“It’s fine, Harry.” 

“No, ‘s not, Becks. You put yer bloody two weeks in, and yer last day ‘s t’morro’,” Harry sighs heavily, bringing my eyes back to his at last, and ever so briefly. The purple gemstone ring that I bought him as a late Valentine’s present grows blurry before my eyes, and only worsens when I see that he never took it off. My wrist feels all the more bare without the multicolored purple gemstone bracelet he gifted me after my accident, and that’s sat on my nightstand at Skye’s for weeks now. 

I’m issing that coffee right about now with the state of my throat. Perhaps it would push down all of the words that I have been aching to say for days and weeks now. 

“Please stay, bug. Not even jus’ fo’ me, but I don’t wantcha t’ lose a good job. Yer doin’ so well and e’rybody at tha firm loves you, babe . . ‘specially me. I know I fooked up real bad, but I promise it won’t happen again if ya gimme another chance-,” Harry begins in a plea, the same emotions that bubble inside of me echo within his voice. When I steal a glance at his olive green eyes, I find them swimming in tears, and that’s what pushes me to surround his lips with mine. 

His buttery soft curls feel like home between my fingers, and my rickety heart begins to slow at the smell of his sweet-peppery scent. Neither of those compare to the feeling of his lips upon mine for the first time in weeks, and the passion carried behind both of ours. Unspoken words, profuse apologies, and hundreds of ‘I miss you’s are left on the other’s lips. His nose leaves slippery marks against my cheek slick with tears, and I can taste them on his skin as well. 

Air trickles back into my burning lungs when I gasp for air below him, stealing whispery kisses from his sweet lips now and then. 

“Was that a random kiss or a ‘get back togetha’ kiss?” he rasps against my lips, finalizing his words with one last peck to my mouth. 

“A ‘get back together’ k-kiss,” I stutter with a soft titter, feeling it fill me with warmth at the sight of his dimples returning to his cheeks from their few week absence. “I missed you . . even r-right now,” I sob, the breath leaving my lungs when my chest collides with his after I dive into his arms. A surprised noise sputters from his mouth but his arms coming around me is instantaneous, and so is the comfort I feel in them. 

“Missed you mo’, bug,” he whispers into my hair, laying kisses on every inch of my head that he can find while I laugh at our inside joke. “Fook, ‘m so sorry fer how I treated ya and fer gettin’ drunk all o’ tha time ‘cuz o’ that stupid case. I meant what I said when I came back from me trip - I haven’t had a drop since that night we broke up, and I won’t fer as long as you want me t’. ‘ll do anythin’ ya want, we’ll do therapy or counselin’- jus’ want us t’ be okay, and fer you t’ let me love you ‘gain. There’s n’body else in this entire world that I wanna be spend me life with, or have babies with one day.” 

“Harry,” I chuckle against his neck, my forever favourite hiding place, whether happy or sad. “We’ve been back together for two seconds, chill on the baby talk.” 

“No, I mean it. I want ya t’ have me babies one day, nuthin’ eva changed ‘bout that, and nuthin’ eva will. Think I love ya mo’ now, Becks, so much mo’,” Harry sighs, and with his confession I can feel his body relax against mine. It’s quite contagious, really. 

“I reckon I still want you to be the father of mine . . teach them how to play footie, how to play guitar, and how to play a shit game of Scrabble.” 

“Hey now!” Harry exclaims, the words rumbling through his chest with his deep chuckle. When I pull away from him to peer into his glassy, green eyes, his lips quiet. The laugh disappears from them, but shouts of happiness and relief fill my eyes, and I think mine feel rather similar to his. “Bloody hell, if they’re as stubborn as you, we’re in fer some trouble.” 

“Like you’re any better,” I giggle, but it’s stolen away by his lips, and I couldn’t be more thankful. 

“This mean you’ll be me mentee ‘gain, and forget ‘bout that crazy talk o’ quittin’ tha firm?” he poses to me, dragging a few fingers through my hair, sending jolts of comfort through my limbs. “Please, Becks?” 

“Of course, Harry. There’s no other lawyer I’d want to learn from- don’t tell Rose that, because she’s been amazing, but she’s just not you. She’s not my favourite teacher or my best friend . . and I’ve really missed them,” I reveal softly, and sadly, the tears adorning my words. The both of them fall onto the pad of his thumb that nudges at my bottom lip affectionately. 

“‘ve missed me favourite lawyer as well, Becks. God, so fookin’ much. I can’t lose me best friend, not again,” he whimpers, the last word breaking under the weight of his tears that match mine. 

“And please, for the love of God, get rid of that intern before I do,” I groan, and a snicker springs from his angelic lips. “Because if I see her flirt with you one more fucking time, I will puke . . on her.” 

“Don’t worry, ‘ve been lookin’ fer a good reason t’ get rid o’ her, so this ‘s perfect, bug,” he coos happily, pulling me back into his arms where I’ve been craving to return for oh, so very long. “Hope y’know I still want ‘bout five kids.” 

“Shut up, Harry,” I titter, my arms tightening around his middle as I find the sweet spot in the crook of his neck. 

“Five babies, Becks, and all with you, honeybug. Li’l girls that look like you and li’l boys that look like me, all with yer gorgeous blue eyes. They’ll have tha best mum eva, they will,” my happy hum accompanies his, almost accentuates it as I toy with the cross sat at the junction of his throat and his shoulders. “Can’t say sorry enough, ‘m afraid, so ‘ll spend tha rest o’ me life sayin’ it t’ you. Promise you that.” 

“I’ll hold you to it,” I almost joke, and when I hear his songlike laugh, I at last let out the breath that I had been holding for far too long.