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kissinginkitchens · 3 years ago

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You Bring Me Home—Chapter Ten: When it Rains

a/n: hi besties!! This one is... tough I’m ngl to y’all. It is the second to the last chapter which is so wild to think about, but alas all good things must come to an end. Hopefully you don’t hate me too much by the end of it but feel free to vent in my inbox :))) much love, Mel <3

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

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive humor, ANGST (!!)

Word Count: 7.4 k

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

“Is that my shirt?”

“No,”

Alani squints at the cartoon bee printed on Harry’s white t-shirt and crosses her arms in disbelief.

“Yes it is! I’ve been looking for it everywhere,”

“Don’t worry, you can have it back soon,” he admits, crawling back into his bed with an apologetic kiss to her pouting lips. “Doesn’t smell like you anymore,”

“Thief,”

Harry scoffs and props himself up on an elbow. “Don’t act like my Spice World jumper isn’t hanging at the foot of your bed right now,”

“You left it there,” Alani defends. “I was merely being kind and looking after said hoodie because it was abandoned by its owner,”

“Oh yeah and you’ve fought real hard to reunite us,”

“Can we get back to the main issue at hand? Which is that I’m kinda pissed off that you look better in that shirt than I do.”

Harry chuckles to himself and presses an affectionate kiss to her temple. “You’re too kind.”

Alani rests her cheek against his chest and listens to the rain pattering harshly against the window, admiring the flashes of lightning that illuminate the dimly lit room. Harry had convinced her to stay the night, worried about her driving home alone in the storm, and he was met with very little resistance. Secretly, he thanks the rain gods for allowing him another night to hold her close.

********

“H, you gotta tell her,” Jeff had warned the previous night. “I already pushed the flight back a week—”

“I know,” Harry huffed. “I just need a little more time.”

Jeff sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. “You have until this weekend when we go away with the girls. One week in Maui, and then it’s back home. I’m sorry.”

********

Harry’s stomach turns remembering the conversation, but he decides to push all the nagging thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on the present.

“You all packed?” he asks, trailing his fingers up and down her arm.

Alani drapes her leg over his hip and nods. “Been packed since last week.”

She had been ecstatic the day after Mila and Chad’s wedding when Harry invited her to tag along on the couple’s trip with Jeff, Tom, and their significant others. His eagerness to include her in his friend group was not only reassuring, but exciting. It felt like their lives were coming together, even more so after she had introduced him to her parents. They, of course, had adored him and quickly given their seal of approval. While Alani knew that it was ultimately her choice, it still felt good to have support from the most important people in her life, and she hoped to win his friends over just as easily. Harry, on the other hand, had no doubts that she would fit right into his chosen family. Her name had been cautiously dropped during a weekly FaceTime call with his mother and sister, and he was overjoyed when they enthusiastically grilled him for details.

What Harry was less sure of, however, was how Alani would react upon hearing that his vacation was up and that he would be headed back to L.A. in a week’s time. It was still early in their relationship and an indeterminate break seemed less than ideal. He had tried to convince both Jeff and the label that he could finish the album in Hawaii, but the same couldn’t be said for Jeff Bhasker, Mitch, Tom, and his new bassist, Adam, who all had families waiting for them back on the mainland. It was too risky personally and financially, so Harry reluctantly negotiated one last week to persuade Alani that a long-distance relationship wouldn’t be a death sentence.

“What d’you wanna watch?” he asks, sitting up against the headboard to turn on the T.V.

Alani sighs and settles deeper into his side. “When Harry Met Sally,”

“But it’s not Christmas or New Year’s,”

“So?”

“So,” Harry explains. “We have to wait ‘til the holidays, wouldn’t be right otherwise,”

Alani scoffs and peers up at him with a judgemental look. “So I guess Serendipity is also out of the question?”

“We’ll have all Christmas to get through that list, darlin’,”

Her stomach flips at his suggestion of their future holiday plans. Privately, she had wondered about such things, as well, including what gifts she might get him or where they would spend the holidays. Though still months away, it suddenly felt within reach.

“Fine,” Alani softens. “The Notebook,”

“And let you drool over what’s-his-face?” Harry pokes. “No fuckin’ way,”

Alani pinches his side and sits up. “Would you stop being insecure about that? I’ve already told you I was just kidding that time,”

“Yeah well, it still stings,”

“Why don’t you tell me your celebrity crush? You know, so I can be totally fine about it because it doesn’t mean anything,”

Harry shrugs, the corners of his lips turning into a playful smirk. “Don’t have one,”

“Liar,”

“M’serious,”

“Why, because you’ve already dated them?”

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “That was a bit snippy,”

Alani’s muscles tighten. She hadn’t realized that his dating history was a sore spot, but she takes a deep breath and plants a sweet kiss to his jaw as an offering of peace. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,”

“S’alright. Truce?”

“Deal,”

“Jennifer Aniston,”

“Huh?”

“My celebrity crush,” Harry explains shyly. “When I was younger,”

Alani giggles lightly. “I see. Good taste, she’s hot,”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna leave me for her too,”

“I just might,”

“Can’t say that I blame you,”

“Look I know this is a cute little bit we do,” Alani sits up, her gaze dead-set on Harry’s to communicate the seriousness behind her words. “But I just want you to know that I feel so lucky to be with you. I’m not going anywhere any time soon,”

Harry swallows harshly. It was everything he’d ever wanted to hear and it kills him that he can’t return the sentiment with full honesty. A little less than a week is all he has to prove that even though he physically has to go, his heart will remain wherever Alani is. “Me either,”

Another round of thunder booms outside and the lights fizzle out, leaving the room completely dark save for the intermittent flashes of lightning that gently illuminate the room.

“So much for watching a movie, huh?” Alani sighs.

“I think I know some other ways we can keep ourselves entertained.”

********

Harry sets a steaming cup of tea down onto the table in front of Alani and she looks up from her tube of nail polish curiously. Harry flashes a dimpled grin in her direction and whistles a familiar tune, one that she had heard in the studio when he was busy doing his Bob Dylan impression.

“What’re you singing?”

“Hm?”

“The song,” she clarifies. “You were singing it the other day, what is it?”

Harry serves her plate of hash browns and shrugs. “Dunno, just a little tune ‘ve been workin’ on,”

“It’s nice,”

“Thanks, sweets,” he offers, setting her food down and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Hey Alani,” Jeff interrupts, stepping into the kitchen with his cellphone pressed to his shoulder.

“Glenne wants to know if you’re okay with her setting up a spa thing for you guys,”

"Yeah, definitely,” Alani perks up.

“Cool, thanks.”

“Look at you,” Harry teases, taking a bite of his toast coated in strawberry jam. “Minglin’ with the girls,”

“They’re not even here yet,”

He scans over her appearance and his brows furrow, hit with the sudden realization that she’s dressed in formal attire.

“What’s with the fancy outfit”

“I have a meeting, remember?”

“With?”

Alani blows on her freshly painted nails and holds up her other hand for Harry to do the same.

“My senior advisor. We’re going over my research project,”

Harry’s brows raise. ��Smarty-pants,”

Alani had scheduled her meeting with Dr. Hudson months ago and had, truthfully, forgotten all about it until she had received a courtesy email the day prior. She had been working on her proposal in the spare minutes she had away from Harry, which were few and far between, but she knew the initial meeting would be much more casual. Alani checks the time on her phone and stands quickly when she realizes that she is supposed to meet Dr. Hudson in less than thirty-minutes.

“Gotta go,” she offers, shoveling potatoes into her mouth and grabbing her bag.

Harry ceases blowing on her nails and kisses the back of her hand before sticking out his lips for a kiss of his own. “Good luck, darlin’. Meet me at the studio after?”

“Sure thing, sunshine. See you later.”

********

“How did the Joni Mitchell piece go? You never told me,” Dr. Hudson questions, taking a sip of her coffee.

Alani offers a shy smile and toys with the hem of her skirt. “A flop,”

“Just one more closer to the winner,”

“Yeah,” Alani sighs, stirring her smoothie. “Maybe it’s time to move on from that,”

The professor shoots her a disapproving look and sets her drink down. “Alani—”

“I just think maybe there’s more realistic—”

“You are not giving up,” Dr. Hudson reassures her. “You’ve come too far and you’re a terrific writer. One of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching. These things take time,”

Alani nods gently, her lips pursed in a tight smile. “Thank you, that really means a lot,”

“What are you working on right now?”

Absolutely nothing, Alani thinks, but then she remembers the half-written article about Harry sitting in her files.

“A short piece about… a local musician,”

Dr. Hudson’s brows raise, intrigued, and she nods. “That sounds interesting. Definitely more personal,”

You have no idea. “Thanks. I mean, it’s not really anything—”

“I’d love to read it when you’re finished,” the professor continues. “What’s the scope?”

Alani thinks, trying not to give too much incriminating detail about her subject or their relationship.

“Well,” she starts, hesitant. “He’s writing new music and working on his first album. I guess I kind of want to follow his journey and redefinition of success in the music industry,”

Dr. Hudson hums. “I love it. Send me a draft.”

Alani swallows and takes a minute to consider the offer. Surely there couldn’t be anything wrong about sharing her work privately with her advisor. She had been so excited about the potential of the article when it was first started, but it had since been neglected like so many of her other rejected pieces. Starting again seemed exciting, and she knew that Harry would be pleased to play such an important role in making her dreams come true. That had, after all, been the initial terms of their agreement.

“Okay,” Alani accepts. “I will.”

********

Harry draws out the last note and Mitch lets the chord ring between them for a moment.

“I think that’s the one,”

“Yeah, I liked that progression better,”

“Hope you got that, Bhasker,” Mitch calls to Jeff in the sound booth, who gives a thumbs up in response.

Harry continues humming, his head still bobbing to the tune, when he hears the studio door creak unpleasantly. His eyes shoot up to find Alani wincing and timidly stepping into the room.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,”

He softens and beckons her over. “Never an interruption, sweets,”

Alani slots herself between his legs and wraps her arms around his neck, giving a gentle peck to the tip of his nose before pressing their lips together.

“How’s the weather?”

“Just got a lot sunnier,”

“Meeting go well?”

She nods and twists a lock of his chestnut hair between her fingers. “Yeah, actually,”

“Then we should celebrate!” Harry perks up, peppering a kiss to her cheek. “Dinner, wine, movie, the whole shebang,”

Alani frowns, thinking back to the article she promised Dr. Hudson. “Hmmm, raincheck?”

Her boyfriend deflates. “You’re ditching me?”

“Just for one night,” she explains, pulling him closer. “I wanna finish up some school stuff before our trip. Otherwise I won’t be able to give you my full attention,”

Harry pouts, but he nods understandingly. “‘Kay,”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I’ll miss you tons,”

“Ditto, sweets,”

Alani presses her forehead against his and her fingertips wander through the growing curls at the nape of his neck. “Please don’t be upset,”

Harry smiles warmly and smoothes his hands up and down her back. “Never, m’love. Could never be upset with you,”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he nods, planting a sweet kiss to her lips. “Hey, I wanna play you somethin’,”

Alani grins and pulls back a bit to read his expression. “Let’s hear it,”

Harry grabs the guitar next to him and slings it over his shoulder before adjusting the capo. The song starts sweet and gentle, his voice light to match the tune.

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It’s hard when we argue

We’re both stubborn I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

Alani watches in awe as he pours so much emotion behind every word, his vocals effortlessly powerful and rich. She claps when the song finishes and leans in for a kiss.

“I love it,”

“S’not finished yet,” Harry shrugs, still fiddling with the strings. “Just the chorus right now,”

“Will you teach it to me?”

His brows raise in surprise. “You play?”

“No,” Alani admits. “But I have a feeling you’re a good teacher,”

“Well, let’s see what you got,”

Alani turns and Harry props the guitar in her lap, his arms wrapping around her as he guides her into the right position. His left hand demonstrates the beginning chord and she replaces his fingers on the fretboard to try for herself. She strums and the beginning note resonates in near-perfect pitch.

“Hey,” Harry beams. “You’re a regular Hendrix,”

He continues positioning her fingers over the right spaces and letting her strum, humming the lyrics softly into the shell of her ear.

“We don’t argue that much,” Alani defends playfully.

Harry chuckles and kisses her temple. “Maybe not, but we’re really good at makin’ up.”

“Easy, Styles.”

********

Harry: Hungry?

Alani peels her eyes away from the computer screen and reads the message lighting up her phone.

Alani: Not really

Harry: …

Harry: oh

She laughs and pads over to the window. Sure enough, Harry holds up two bags and flashes a cheesy grin down below.

“Need a study break?”

“I’ll meet you at the door.”

Harry makes himself comfortable in the middle of her bed and unpacks the bags.

“I’ve got a California and a spicy tuna for my favorite girl,” he announces. “With a side of eel sauce,”

“And the world's best boyfriend goes to Mr. Harry Styles,” Alani grins, taking a seat next to him.

He smirks and pulls out his own order of miso soup and sushi. “How’s the homework comin’ along?”

“Not too shabby,”

“Glad to hear it,”

“Hey, what time do I meet you at the airport tomorrow?” she asks, dipping her roll in the sauce.

Harry freezes and turns to her with confusion written all over his face. “I’m sorry, did my girlfriend just insinuate that we’re not leaving for the airport together?”

“I really need to finish this,” Alani explains. “It’s almost there,”

“Two nights?” he complains.

Alani nudges him with her shoulder and shakes her head. “We’re gonna be spending an entire week together, non-stop. You’re gonna get sick of me,”

“Never,” Harry rebuts. “Not possible,”

“Just one more night,” Alani bargains. “Then I’m all yours, no interruptions.”

He nods and takes a sip of his soup. “Alright, deal.”

You have to tell her, Jeff’s voice rings in his mind.

********

The airline stewardess ushers Harry and Alani to their seats while Scott and Miles settle down a few rows behind. She didn’t know exactly what to expect from first-class, but suddenly the perks of having a famous boyfriend increased tenfold by the sight of their luxurious accommodations.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Alani asks while Harry hovers over his chair.

“Sitting, or I was about to,”

“And you’re not even gonna offer rock-paper-scissors for the window seat?”

Harry shakes his head with an amused chuckle. “No because I already know that you’re gonna get up to pee every five minutes,”

“Not true,”

“It is too true and it’s exactly why we can’t cuddle while we fall asleep,”

“Or maybe the reason is because I’m claustrophobic and I just don’t wanna hurt your feelings,”

Harry frowns. “Really?”

“No,” Alani admits, taking the aisle seat. “I just said that so you’d give me the window,”

“Get up, we’re switching,”

“Thank you, sunshine! You’re the best,”

Harry slumps into his new chair and crosses his arms. “Forty-five minutes and we’re already fighting like an old married couple,”

“Oh really?” Alani smirks. “Is that what old married couples argue about? Who gets the window seat?”

“And leaving the toilet seat up, going antique shopping—”

“—What old married couples have you been hanging out with—?”

“—Picking up the kids from school,”

Alani presses a kiss to his shoulder and rests her head in the crook of his neck. Her eyelids are still heavy from staying up the night before, but her article was completely finished and sent off to Dr. Hudson just like she’d promised. Now, she could enjoy her vacation free of any worry or obligation, completely focused on the perfect boy still rambling next to her.

“But, obviously I mean that doesn’t count, right?” Harry asks, craning his neck and smiling softly when he sees that his girlfriend has already dozed off. He kisses the top of her head gently and lets his own eyes flutter close with a deep, contented breath.

********

“And then I’ll have to repaint it, but I haven’t decided on a color yet,” Glenne explains to Alani as they stroll through the airport.

Alani hums. “It was your grandmother’s?”

“Well, it was somebody’s grandmother’s. We picked it up at this little antique shop in Santa Monica.”

Jeff escorts Glenne into the shuttle car while Harry and Alani share a knowing look and stifle their laughter. They shuffle into the back seats as Tom and his wife, Jenny, claim the middle row.

“So you’re a journalist?” Jenny asks, turning in her seat eagerly to face Alani.

“Not quite,” she explains with a polite smile. “Still a student, but hopefully someday,”

Jenny nods and twirls the ring around her finger. “Sounds exciting. Maybe you can hitch a ride on tour with this one and do some writing there.”

“Yeah,” Alani smiles, settling further into Harry’s side. “Maybe.”

The idea of traveling the world with Harry and being a part of the excitement of touring the album was something she had considered briefly, but hadn’t allowed herself to fully indulge until this moment. It was already thrilling to see him polish the songs he had begun during his trip, but she could only imagine how much more special it would be to see him perform them for the rest of the world. A twinge of jealousy sparks at the thought of having to share any part of him with the public, but Alani knows that his gifts are much too special to keep all for herself. Harry was golden and he deserved to shine in all of his radiant glory. That was exactly what she had penned in her article, and she said it not because he was her boyfriend and there were clear personal investments, but because she knew it was true even before he had shown any romantic interest in her.

“What’s tour like?” Alani pipes up as Harry watches the landscape out his window.

He considers it for a moment and clears his throat. “Fun, mostly. Can be tiring,”

“Lots of partying and adoring fans?”

“No,” he chuckles to himself. “Not so much the partying. Enthusiastic fans, sure,”

Alani narrows her eyes. “No partying?”

“Nope,” Harry reiterates. “Don’t really like to do all that stuff when I’m working. Also just didn’t wanna…”

He trails off and Alani waits a beat to see if he’ll continue. “Didn’t wanna?”

“Fuck it up,” he finishes. “You know, like, be the one who ruined a good thing for a little bit of fun.”

She lets his words settle in, rubbing a reassuring circle on the back of his hand. “Makes sense. Sounds really responsible of you to do that.”

Harry presses a soft kiss to her temple and resumes his study of the scenery. They chat amongst their friends for the remainder of the drive and Alani immediately presses Glenne and Jenny for information about her boyfriend in his younger years. They indulge her inquiries and ask their own questions, deciding privately after a few minutes that her and Harry are a good fit.

When the group arrives at the resort, Glenne takes charge and instructs them all to meet at the lobby for lunch in twenty minutes. They collect their keys and head up to their respective rooms, which are all located on the very top floor.

“What a view,” Alani muses as she takes in the sight from their private balcony.

Harry admires the wonder on her face and nods, his eyes not leaving her side profile. “You’re tellin’ me,”

“Let’s never go home,” she poses, arms snaking around his torso. “Let’s stay here forever, just me and you,”

His throat tightens as he thinks back to the inevitable conversation waiting for them. Harry didn’t know why it was so hard to think about leaving because he had every intention of keeping touch and making their relationship work at all costs. But there was a part of him, a very tiny recess in the back of his mind, that feared the possibility of Alani not feeling the same.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. “Whatever you want, sweets,”

Alani senses a shift in his demeanor, but she can’t read it. “You okay?”

“Never better,” Harry swallows, mustering up a small smile. “But I am hungry,”

She isn’t entirely convinced that there isn’t something bothering him, but she decides not to push it and tightens her grip around his waist, instead.

“Race you to the lobby.”

“You’re on.”

********

“You’ve never seen Finding Nemo?”

“Was I s’posed to?”

“My god,” Alani marvels. “You know, I’m starting to believe those rumors that you were grown in a lab,”

Harry’s brow raises and he blinks. “That I was what?”

The restaurant that Glenne and Jeff chose features an aquarium tunnel at the entrance, much to both Harry and Alani’s excitement. Fish, large and small, swim around them and the pair take turns pointing out their favorite colorful species. The Hull’s snap photos for their four year-old daughter, but Jenny also secretly captures one of Harry and Alani with their hands clasped under the mesmerizing blue lighting as a keepsake for her friend.

“Add Finding Nemo to our movie list,” Alani says, admiring a clownfish that swims close to the glass.

“S’it gonna make me cry?”

“Probably,”

“Goddamnit,”

Alani giggles softly and turns her head away from the glass to silently observe Harry under the lighting of the rippling water. The combination of his serene features and the sound of Billie Holiday’s I’ll Be Seeing You over the sound system creates a perfect image in her mind, one that makes her afraid to blink, lest it be gone forever. Harry glances over at her through the corner of his eye and his lips curl.

“Checkin’ me out?”

“Always,”

“Like whatcha see?”

“Love it.”

His heart nearly stops at her words, but before he has a chance to process their implication, the hostess calls on their group.

“And I’ll have the piña colada,” Harry orders once they're seated.

“Oh my god, H,” Glenne laughs from across the table. “That reminds me, remember your birthday last year when James got trashed and hoarded the karaoke machine for, like, two hours?”

“Ruined that song forever,” Jeff quips, reliving the memory of the Late-Late host drunkenly serenading the entire party with the same song on repeat.

Harry cringes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I try not to,”

Alani watches as they reminisce on the event, adding their own details and pieces to the puzzle. It’s amusing to watch, but a small part of her also has to fight the pang of exclusion settling into the pit of her stomach. She feels guilty for being affected by it knowing, logically, that it isn’t intentional or malicious in any way. Still, Alani is painfully reminded of the vast differences between their worlds. Harry had gotten to know practically every part of her life, including her family, but there was still so much that she didn’t know about his. It was something she worked hard not to dwell on, given the novelty of their relationship, but she also worried that fear and insecurity would prevent her from investing what little of her heart Harry hadn’t claimed yet.

“Who was it that started dancing on a table and almost broke a chandelier?” Tom asks, wracking his brain.

“I think it was Ken—” Jeff hesitates, clearing his throat. “Actually, I don’t remember,”

Harry shifts in his seat beside Alani and reads over the menu, quickly changing the subject. “What’re you gonna get?”

“I don’t know,” Alani admits. “Everything looks so good,”

“Oh look,” Jenny pipes up across from Harry. “They’ve got your fav, the mango sorbet. I wonder if it’s as good as the one in Italy,”

Harry beams and reads over the item. “Oh yeah, that was amazin’,”

Alani files the detail to the back of her mind. She hadn’t known mango was his favorite flavor of anything, and while it was a trivial detail, she realized that there were so still many little details about him that she wanted to know. Harry had made such an effort to remember everything about her, like her go-to sushi order and the fact that she always saved the kiwis for last in her fruit salad, so it made her feel a touch guilty that she hadn’t made the same effort.

“Wanna share the coconut shrimp?” Alani asks with a gentle nudge to his shoulder.

“Oh, uh—”

“He’s allergic,” Glenne says offhandedly, not cold or condescending, but more in the same way that an older sister would.

“Oh my god,” Alani’s eyes widen. “I’m so sorry,”

Harry laughs lightly and shrugs. “S’okay, I’d let you poison me,”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Glenne apologizes, reaching her hand out to Alani. “I thought you knew.”

Alani accepts the hand and waves away her concern. “No, don’t worry about it. I didn’t know, actually.”

“We can stop talking about my defects now,” Harry teases. “‘M not dyin’,”

He leans in closer to Alani and presses a kiss to her temple. “But if I was, it’d be an honor to have my last meal with you.”

She responds with a soft smile before returning her attention back to the menu. His sentiments, however sweet, unfortunately did very little to soothe the embarrassment of her mini faux pas. It was irrational, Alani knew this, but it made her wonder what else she didn’t know and what bigger secrets he was potentially keeping. Whose name had Jeff meant to say earlier to identify the mystery dancer at Harry’s party, and why had it created an awkward shift in the air? She decides not to let the spiraling questions spoil her fun and takes a generous sip of her cocktail to avoid them for the time being.

********

Harry sets the room key on the nightstand next to their king sized bed and lets himself sink down into the soft mattress. The group had spent the entire day sightseeing, from botanical gardens to scenic beaches, but he was really itching for some quality time alone with Alani. Lately, their time together had been cut frustratingly short by work, school, and life in general. Even when they were seated right next to each other with arms linked or fingers interlocked, she felt far away and he didn’t know why. He hoped that this trip would allow them time to reconnect and solidify their relationship before he had to return to California.

“Mini bar,” Alani comments, kicking her shoes off and wandering over to the small refrigerator in their suite. “Who’s paying again?”

“The label,”

“Thank you Columbia Records,”

She swipes a few bottles of tequila before climbing into the bed next to Harry.

“Wanna play a game?”

Harry props himself up on his elbow and nods. “What kinda game?”

“Never have I ever,” Alani explains. “But instead of putting your finger down, you take a shot,”

“Sounds dangerous,”

“It’ll be fun. You can go first if you want,”

He hums and nods in agreement before sitting up to face her. “‘Kay. Never have I ever...named my car after a musician,”

“Cheap shot,” Alani narrows her eyes, taking a sip from the bottle of Jose Cuervo.

“Your turn,”

She fiddles with the bottle cap, a question already in mind, though she isn’t sure if she should ask it.

“Never have I ever… dated a model,”

Harry’s brow furrows, but he opens his own bottle slowly and takes a sip. “So it’s that kind of never have I ever,”

“Just trying to keep it interesting,” Alani shrugs innocently.

“Right. Never have I ever slept with a guy named David,”

Her eyes widen, but she laughs half-heartedly and takes a sip. “Jeez, okay. Never have I ever—”

“Wait, so you two actually…” Harry interrupts, trailing off at the end.

“I mean,” Alani starts, her eyes wandering to the ceiling. “Yeah, a long time ago,”

“How long ago?”

“Okay, maybe this was a mistake—”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’ll play nice,”

“Alright,” Alani accepts. She knows that she should probably steer the game back onto safer territory, but the wound has been re-opened and she can’t resist the urge to keep picking at it. “Never have I ever slept with a fan,”

Harry takes a slow sip. “Never have I ever cheated on my partner,”

The bottle stays put in Alani’s hand. “Never had I ever gone on a vacation with my partner before this trip,”

The tequila washes over his tongue bitterly like the faint memories that it symbolizes. “Never have I ever dated someone just for the publicity,”

The bottle in Alani’s hand doesn’t move, much to Harry’s relief, but her mind is not as tranquil.

“Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t,” she says slowly.

Harry takes another shot and it burns all the way down. “Why are we doin’ this?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t wanna play anymore,”

“Alani,” he starts, springing to his feet when she leaves the bed. “Hey, look at me, please,”

She blinks back the tears that threaten to spill over her lower lashes before turning to him. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid game,”

“S’just all out of context,” Harry offers, reaching for her hands. “Wasn’t the right way to have all of those conversations,”

Alani takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, you’re right,”

“What’s really botherin’ you, hm sweets?” He coos, bringing her cold knuckles to his warm lips. “Tell me, please?”

She releases a shaky breath and tries to sift through the fog in her brain for the right answer.

“I don’t know, really, I just,” Alani hesitates. “Am I a bad girlfriend?”

“No,” Harry says quickly, his hands lifting to cup her face. “God no, you’re the best,”

“Then why didn’t I know that your favorite ice cream flavor was mango? And why didn’t I know that you were allergic to coconut, and why—”

“Hang on, is that what this is all about?” he questions. “Cause I’ll go eat an entire coconut right now,”

Alani laughs lightly and pinches her eyes shut. “No, it’s not about that. I just feel like you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and you make me feel so fucking special and, God, I just wanna be good enough for you because—”

Harry holds his breath and watches as her eyes gloss over.

“Because I love you,” she finishes, voice small. “More than I ever thought possible,”

His own eyes sting, but he doesn’t fight the tears that fall as he presses his lips to hers firmly.

“I love you, too,” Harry murmurs. “I love you so fuckin’ much it drives me crazy,”

Alani chuckles softly. “Ditto,”

“I’ve been wanting to say it for ages, can’t believe you beat me to it.”

“Guess you’re not the only one full of surprises.”

********

The early morning sunlight creeps gently into Harry and Alani’s room, casting a soft, golden glow onto the bare skin that peeks through the white duvet. Harry stirs first, a strand of Alani’s hair tickling his nose and making him smile. He prys his heavy eyelids open and winces at the dull aching of his head aggravated by the light. Alani hears his muffled groan and sighs, willing the sun to go back down and let her sleep a few more hours.

“Mornin’ sweets,” he rasps with a warm kiss to her bare shoulder.

She peels her own tired eyes open and flashes a sleepy grin. “Good morning, sunshine,”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Super. You?”

Harry props himself up on his elbow and rests his chin in his palm as he admires the traces of sleep still on her face.

“Just swell.”

Alani chuckles lightly and reaches a hand up to comb through his unruly bedhead. His skin is warm to the touch, and the light from the window casts a heavenly glow around his visage. She pokes her finger into his dimple, which elicits a soft laugh and makes his smile grow wider. They stay intertwined under the sheets as the sun fully rises and soak up their own details to keep as souvenirs from this moment. Alani takes in the scent of vanilla and the juxtaposition of Harry’s inked bicep against the plain, white sheets. He stores away the image of her sleepy, mocha eyes and the pink, manicured fingernails that trail up and down his arm. Neither of them are sure exactly how long they remain in this moment, for all they know it could be hours or days. But whatever the duration, it doesn’t seem to be enough. I need more time, Harry had told Jeff, but there was no more left to give. He had to tell her, and it was now or never.

“Hey,” he begins carefully. “I need to tell you something,”

Alani sits up to be eye level with him and nods. “Anything,”

Harry waits a beat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and pressing his lips to her bare shoulder before letting the confession spill out.

“I have to go back to L.A.,”

“I kinda figured,”

He draws in a deep sigh of relief. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Alani shrugs. “Hilo isn’t exactly Hollywood,”

“I asked for more time, but the label—”

“No, I get it. So… when? Next month?”

“Friday,”

Alani’s brows furrow. “This Friday?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits with a gulp.

“The last day of our trip?”

“Yes,”

Her heart drops into her stomach and she feels sick. It all made sense now why Harry’s mood had shifted when she jokingly asked him not to leave, and why he had been so insistent on spending as much time together as possible this week. Their game of never have I ever turned instantly defensive when asked about his dating history. Never had I ever gone on vacation with my partner before this trip. Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t. He had whisked her away on a farewell trip and God knows who else had been in her place before, or worse, who would be in it next. Harry was saying good-bye.

“Wait,” Alani says finally, mind still racing too fast to process. “How long have you known?”

“Alani—”

“How long?”

Harry swallows. “Couple of weeks,”

“You knew for weeks and you didn’t tell me?” she questions incredulously.

“I tried—”

“You know that I hate surprises, you know how I feel about plans—”

“I’m sorry,” Harry insists, sitting up straighter. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but it just never felt right,”

Alani rolls her eyes. “So what, you were just gonna leave a fucking sticky note on my pillow and hope for the best?”

“Don’t say that—”

“Is that why you brought me here?” she asks, voice hoarse. “Is that why you gave me this necklace? A souvenir of our little summer fling so you could leave with a clear conscience?”

Harry’s jaw tightens. “How could you even think that?”

“Because maybe it’s true. Why else would you wait until the very last minute to tell me about this?”

“Maybe we should take a minute,” he suggests, the whites of his eyes now bloodshot. “Before we say something we’ll regret,”

“I think I already did.” Alani admits. Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t.

Harry’s head pounds and he feels like he’s drowning, treading water in every direction only to be dragged further into the current. He quickly pulls on his clothes from the night before and tries to steady his breathing.

“M’gonna go wait in the hall,” he offers. “Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

Alani doesn’t respond or even meet his pleading eyes. She simply tightens the duvet around her body and turns her head to the window, letting a single, bitter tear roll down her cheek. The door closes softly and she is immediately filled with regret and guilt. Had she truly meant all of the things she said? Or was it fear and the instinct to flee taking over her mouth? Alani wanted to believe that she was wrong and that Harry hadn’t intentionally kept her in the dark, but from where she stood, the sun had long disappeared behind the clouds and all that was left was the storm.

Harry trudges down the hallway and the walls spin, closing in on him slowly. If he had just told Alani sooner, everything would be different. He had avoided doing so for this exact reason and out of fear that their relationship wouldn’t be worth the risk in her mind. It was selfish—he was selfish—to try to make the decision for her, and now the woman he loved was getting ready to walk away because he had broken her trust. What else was there to do? His back meets the wall and he sinks to the floor.

“Hey H,” Jeff clears his throat from above. “We should talk,”

“She knows. Didn’t go well,”

“So she did approve the article?”

Harry lifts his head and his brows furrow. “What?”

There’s a harsh knock at the door and Alani jumps. In Harry’s absence, she had managed to cool off and sift through her frantic thoughts. She had been wrong to think that he used her, all it took was a quick stroll down memory lane to prove otherwise. He had never given her any true reason not to trust him, so there had to be some other reason why he hadn’t told her about his plans to leave so soon. Alani pads over to the door and unlocks it gently.

“Harry, I’m sor—”

“Wanna talk about surprises?” he seethes. “What the fuck is this?”

She squints at the phone screen that he holds up to her face and the title of her unpublished article stares back at her.

“I don’t know—”

“Well it has your goddamn name on it,” Harry shoots back.

Alani steps aside and lets him into the room before she closes the door behind her. “I can explain—”

“Did you write it or not?”

“Yes, but—”

He shuts the phone off and slams it face down onto the night stand. “How fucking dare you call me a liar and then pull this shit behind my back,”

“I didn’t lie,” Alani defends, voice weak. “I had no idea it was going to be published, please just listen—”

“A class project,” he interrupts with his back still turned. “That’s what you said,”

“It was never meant to be released,”

“How do I know that? How do I know you’re not just trying to cover your ass?”

“Please,” Alani begs as her vision begins to blur. “I was wrong, I shouldn’t have said all those things,”

Harry runs a hand through his hair and casts his eyes to the ceiling in an attempt to quell the emotion that pools behind his eyes.

“So why did you?”

“I was scared,”

“Of?”

Alani takes a deep breath. “Of losing you for good. Of falling in l—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t finish that sentence,”

“I don’t know how,” she tries again. “And I don’t know who released it, but I swear—”

“You really expect me to trust a word you say after you accused me of lying about this whole thing, about us?”

Harry’s gaze lowers back to hers and the bright, green eyes that she has come to love are replaced with a blood-shot, stormy sea that makes her stomach drop. The words get caught in her throat.

“I fucked up,” he continues. “I know that I should’ve told you. But I’m having a hard time believing that this wasn’t planned, that this random website would just accidentally publish your work without your consent,”

Alani can’t explain it either, she truly had no idea how her writing had ended up in the wrong hands. There was only one other person she had entrusted it with, but surely Dr. Hudson hadn’t betrayed her, had she? Alani didn’t know who to believe anymore.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” she tries. “I didn’t mean what I said, and I know I can’t take it back, but you have to at least believe that I never wanted to hurt you,”

Harry is silent for a moment, and Alani decides that it’s her turn to tell the truth. There was nothing left to lose.

“At first, I did want to publish it,” she explains. “But I changed my mind and I scrapped the whole thing. In the end, the only person I intended to show it to was you,”

“So how did it get onto the internet for the whole fucking world to see?” he presses.

Alani sighs. “My advisor wanted to know what I was working on, so I sent it to her, but she never had my permission to publish it. Now I realize how stupid it sounds, but it’s the truth,”

“If you had come to me, I would have given you permission,”

“I’m so sorry,”

Harry’s shoulders tense. Every fiber of his being wants to believe her, but how could he? She had told him herself that things would be messy and warned him that he didn’t know what he was asking by pursuing a relationship with her. Maybe it really was all his fault for not seeing the signs, but that still didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t trust her anymore. And based on her reaction to the news of his departure, it seemed as though Alani didn’t trust him either.

“Even if you’re telling the truth,” Harry begins, slow and deliberate. “You still thought, after everything, that I would abandon you. And if that’s the kind of person you think I am, if that’s the person you wrote about—”

“Harry—”

“Then I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

“Please, don’t go.” Alani cries but it’s too late. The door slams and her heart falls.

After a beat, she races to the door and into the hallway but there’s no sign of Harry. As quickly as he had appeared into her life, he had vanished. Gone without a trace.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #ybmh #sorry besties <3

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jaybear1701 · 4 years ago

Link

The Outpost is, without a shred of doubt, a shithole.

And Ellen Waverly secretly loves it, even though her fellow ASCANs frown at the tavern’s dilapidated exterior. Anybody who’s anybody knows about the dive bar frequented by astronauts, engineers, and other NASA staffers. Spoken about with hushed reverence, the Outpost is hallowed ground, a right of passage, and a frisson of excitement courses through Ellen as they pause just outside its entrance.

“This is it?” Dani Poole eyes the peeling red paint of the watering hole’s sign, uncertainty lacing her voice as she clutches the strap of her purse.

“Yep.” Molly Cobb lights a cigarette dangling from the corner of her lips. She pulls the door open, hinges squeaking, and the odor of cheap beer and stale smoke wafts out. “You gonna stand out here gaping all night?” Molly strides in without waiting for a response. Patty Doyle’s right on her heels, as usual.

Neither bothers to check if the others are following, but Tracy Stevens manages to catch the door before it swings shut again. “Let’s go, ladies.” She ushers the others inside. “Can’t let Cobb and Doyle have all the fun.”

The stench, now mingled with sweat and other odors barely concealed by fading cologne, intensifies the second Ellen sets foot inside the dimly lit bar. She wrinkles her nose and, as her eyes adjust, they walk past a beat up cigarette machine into a tightly packed space where all eyes immediately fall on them. Ellen thinks she recognizes some of the men from around the halls of JSC, but in all honesty they blended together in a uniform mass of white oxfords, skinny black ties, and thinly veiled disapproval. They were all just waiting for them to fail.

“Same shit, different toilet,” Molly mutters under her breath. Still, she throws her head back high, cocksure, and swaggers toward a pool table with Patty. Her heavy boot steps draw even more attention, not that Molly pays it any mind, acting as if she’s frequented The Outpost all her life. Like she belongs there.

Ellen does her best to follow Molly’s cue, straightening her spine and making her way around a jukebox that’s seen better days to the last empty table. “First round’s on me,” she announces, surprising even herself.

“That’s mighty generous,” Dani says as she and the others take their seats. The legs of their chairs scrape across the slightly sticky wood floor. They all pretend they don’t see the little brown insects that scatter from beneath the table.

“What would you like?” Ellen asks before any of them decide to hightail it outta there.

“Round of JD,” Tracy responds. “Least that’s what Gordo has when he’s here. If that’s all right with y’all, of course,” she adds to murmurs of assent.

“Coming right up.” Ellen beelines for the bar, continuing to ignore the stares from around the room that make the tips of her ears burn despite her carefully curated air of indifference.

She manages to find a small opening between the occupied, but is disappointed when no one’s there to serve drinks. The bartender probably took a quick break, she thinks, focusing her attention on the black-and-white astronaut photos that line the wood-paneled walls. Idly drumming her fingers against distressed mahogany, she wonders if her picture would ever be prominently displayed alongside the likes of Armstrong, Glenn, and Aldrin. Of if she’ll wash out, as her mother seems to be expecting.

An unsubtle cough interrupts Ellen’s musings, and a man leans an elbow on the bar to her left, a little too close for comfort.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in a place like this?” He slurs out the oh-so-creative pickup line, alcohol sharp on his breath.

It takes all of her willpower not to roll her eyes in disgust. Instead, she pretends not to hear him, but he persists. “Never seen ya before. Y’all tourists or somethin’? Sightseein’?”

Irritation spikes in Ellen, who has half a mind to correct him, nondisclosure agreements be damned, when another voice cuts in. “Jimbo, what’d I tell you about scaring new customers?”

Ellen turns her head to the right and… Oh.

She’s not quite sure what she expected when it came to The Outpost’s barkeep. Based on the decor, she wouldn’t have been surprised by someone schlubby and indifferent and borderline antisocial. But Ellen most certainly isn’t expecting one of the prettiest women she’s ever seen, with strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a careless ponytail, bangs hanging just above eyes as blue as a cloudless sky. And just like that, Ellen’s starting to understand the appeal of the place.

“C’mon now, Pam,” Jimbo drawls, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Jus’ tryin’ to be friendly.”

“Uh huh.” Pam cants her head to the side, unconvinced. “Get outta here before I call your wife.” After he slinks away, Pam gives Ellen an easy smile, bracing her hands on the bar. “Sorry ‘bout that. What can I get for you?”

It’s not until Pam’s closer that Ellen remembers to breathe, the influx of oxygen allowing her to regain control of her faculties and notice the pin fastened to Pam’s maroon t-shirt. It reads in bold white letters against a black background bespeckled by stars: A Woman’s Place Is In Space.

Ellen’s stomach swoops in delight.

“You okay?” Pam asks when Ellen doesn’t answer right away.

“Oh, er,” Ellen intelligently answers in a manner befitting a future astronaut. “Yes, sorry.” Heat rises in her cheeks. “Drinks?” She vaguely gestures toward the other candidates, and the pool table where Molly’s lining up a shot that sends a striped ball straight into a corner pocket. “For me. And my…” Her what? They aren’t exactly friends. Rivals would be closer to the truth, but that would sound weird. And she’s already being weird. She eventually settles on, “Colleagues.”

“Drinks,” Pam repeats, eyebrows disappearing beneath her fringe.

“Yes, um, please.”

“Sure thing.” Pam nods, thoughtfully observing the other women for a moment before fixing her gaze back on Ellen. “Got something particular in mind? Or should I surprise you?”

Ellen somehow manages not to smack the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Sorry. Jack Daniels for, uh, seven.”

“You got it, space cadet.” With a wink, Pam pushes off the bar to fetch a set of lowball glasses and arranges them in a neat row.

It takes a few seconds before Pam’s words catch up with Ellen. Was Pam referring to Ellen’s embarrassingly delayed response or… “Space cadet?”

“You all are the female astronaut candidates, aren’t you?” Pam reaches past several rows of bottles to fetch the whiskey.

“What, uh, what makes you think that?” Ellen nervously brushes her hair behind her ear. No one’s supposed to know who they are until they graduate. If they graduate.

Pam shrugs, the tip of the bottle’s spout poised above the glasses. “Groups of women don’t really wander in here. Plus, some of you match the scuttlebutt I’ve heard here and there.”

“Scuttlebutt?”

“NASA types like to talk, especially after they’ve had a few.”

“That’s… not unsettling in the slightest.” Ellen tries and fails to tamp down a swell of unease, wondering if they’d all be bounced from the program if word got out.

“Relax.” Pam chuckles, as if reading her mind. She tips the bottle forward, expertly eyeballing two fingers of brown liquor per glass. “What’s said here stays here. Unless you’re a reporter, then I’m sworn under our unofficial Baldwin rule to kick you out.”

“Definitely not a reporter,” Ellen says, recalling Ed Baldwin’s very public misstep in calling out NASA after the Soviets landed on the moon last summer. Relief eases some of the tension between Ellen’s shoulders. She shifts from one foot to the other, curiosity getting the better of her. “So, what have they been saying? All good things, I’m guessing,” she jokes weakly, all too aware of the rampant sexism among many, if not most, of her male counterparts.

“They wouldn’t dare say anything negative within earshot of me.” Pam taps her equality button. “Would never get a drink otherwise.”

Ellen can’t stop herself from smiling as Pam finishes pouring, sets the bottle down, and crosses her arms.

“Let’s see, I’ve heard that two of them were in Mercury 13. Have chips on their shoulders.” Pam nods toward Molly and Patty playing pool. “I’m guessing they’re the ones over there acting like they own the place.” There’s an underlying current of respect in her voice as her line of sight drifts toward the lone table surrounded by women. “The blonde? I’d bet all my tips that she’s Tracy Stevens. Got those Hollywood looks that’d be Gordo’s type.”

Ellen has to admit she’s impressed. “And me?” She asks before she can stop herself.

Blue eyes darting across Ellen’s face, Pam appraises her in a way that sparks flutters against her ribs. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard about you, Ms...?”

“Waverly.” Ellen sticks her hand out. “Ellen Waverly.”

Pam grasps her hand, grip firm yet gentle, palm warm and smooth. “Nice to meet you, Ellen Waverly.”

“And you’re Pam.”

“That’s right.” Neither of them moves to let go. “Pam Horton.”

Another patron accidentally jostles Ellen’s shoulder and she immediately drops Pam’s hand. “Can I get a couple of beers, Pam?” He asks.

“Just a sec.” She says, transferring the whiskey glasses to a round serving tray.

“So, uh,” Ellen clears her throat as she reaches for her purse. “What do I owe you?” Pam waves her away. “First round’s on the house.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’d be my pleasure.” Her smile is genuine, radiant. “It’s the least I can do for the first American women heading to space.”

Ellen ducks her head, pleased yet embarrassed. “We haven’t passed yet.”

Pam looks her straight in the eye, and says without hesitation, “You will.”

Warmth blooms inside Ellen’s chest from Pam’s sincerity. “I… thank you." She hopes her face isn't as red as it feels. "We’ll make it up to you.”

“Prove all the assholes out there wrong, and we’ll be square.” Pam pulls out two beer bottles, swiftly pops off their caps, and hands them to the man. She inclines her head toward the tray of Jack Daniels. “I’ll have these out to you in a jiffy.”

With one last nod, Ellen makes her way back to the table, heart pounding and already vowing to return to the shithole that wasn’t so shitty after all.

#ellen x pam #for all mankind #ellen waverly #pam horton #spacepoet #fam fic #famk fic

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connorgoldie604 · 3 years ago

Text

Artist Research

Tetsuo Aoki (1940 - unknown)

"The theme of my artwork is to express the pleasure, the deepness and the importance of touching each other. The original world of woodblock with Japanese paper (Washi) and Chinese ink (Sumi) is my basis."

Tetsuo Aoki – 青木鐵男 is a Japanese woodblock printmaker, who was born in 1940. He utilises wood to engrave his designs and uses a black and white colour scheme consistently throughout his prints.

His elongated, disproportional and overstretched characters immediately caught my eye and he is now one of my biggest inspirations. I love the layouts he uses and the overall distorted aesthetic of his work. Aoki’s graphic style is far from ordinary. He utilizes defined shapes and little shadowing which creates a sense of sentimentality.

Bryan Nash Gill (1961 - 2013)

"Art is (or should be) an authentic experience, which brings you closer to understanding yourself in relation to your surroundings." - Bryan Nash Gill

Bryan creates large-scale relief prints from the cross-sections of trees. It is up to us as viewers to find meaning in Bryans art. Personally, I find his art both beautiful and thought-provoking; it portrays the idea of growth and change yet makes me think about sustainability and the living things that surround us humans.

Bryan believes that the journey is more important than the destination; "Strict concentration on the making, the process, is more important than the result." His take on the process of art is almost a metaphor for all things organic - he lived in the moment and did not let his thoughts guide him.

Gill creates patterns from fallen or damaged trees which he rescues from the property surrounding his studio. He prepares blocks of recycled wood, coats it in a thin layer of ink then makes prints by carefully pressing the contours of the wood until the intricate designs transfer from tree to paper. It is important to Gill that the entire tree and all it’s intricisies is documented.

Hulya Ozdemir

“I think my paintings are timeless. My portraits do not remain imprisoned in a single statement. Their gazes are changing, just like us. One day in the same picture is sad, another day is possible to see a happy face.” - Hulya Ozdemir

Hulya Ozdemir is an illustrator and painter of watercolor portraits who was born in Istanbul, Turkey in 1972. Hulya focuses predominantly on female portraits and showcases women becoming self confident and breaking out of social norms created by a make-dominated society. Hulya does not sketch her work beforehand, she draws directly onto paper, adds patterns and then paints; “I can say, I rarely know what will happen in the next step.”

Her work displays womens beauty and individuality through the use of texture, bold colours and many patterns. Her use of colour, pattern and texture stould out to me, and I used it as inspiration for a mixed media print.

Glenn Jones

Glenn Jones found internet fame in the 2000s with his unique T-shirt designs. His tees have even be worn by stars on the Big Bang Theory. He is an illustrator who’s work is now being published as prints. Glenns collection of prints are inspired by growing up and living in NZ, he has stated that he want’s to put “my own spin on our pop culture”.

His prints are some what comedic, he depicts relatable Kiwi experiences with a humorous touch. One source states “his prints are a statement in a picture about our collective identities and the shared experiences of living in Aotearoa in the early 21st century.” His kiwiana style and clever twists with a touch of nostalgia is inspiring. I find his work both quirky and fun.

Barry Ross Smith

"I like to create a rapport with the viewer by playing with our reminiscences. Creating icons from our shared Kiwi past, the beach, the bach, the farm but mostly the people. We can identify with these characters as family, friends or someone we know." - Barry Ross Smith

Barry Ross Smith is a visual artist born in Kamo, Northland, New Zealand. When he first started producing art his medium was sign writing, and he has now been painting for over 25 years. As stated by New Zealand Fine Prints Ltd; “His work typically engages with the conception of myth and cultural identity, often exploring these avenues from a New Zealand male’s perspective.”His art is inspired by the relationship between individuals and their immediate environment, specifically our communion with the land & encompassing oceans. His work has been described as “hymns to rural New Zealand … tellingly observed and cleverly rendered” by NZ Hearld Critic TJ Mcnamara.

I admire Barry because his work showcases our beautiful land and animals. Aswell as how work, Barry inspires me as a person. He is involved with Pest free NZ; and helps restore native wildlife from extinction. He values New Zealand land not only in his work but in his day to day life, which I find extremely inspiring as I value sustainability and our saving our environment. I also find his use of surrealism and kiwiana themes interesting as it is something I want to experiment with in the future.

Tony Ogle

"Screen-printing allows me to express my love of the New Zealand landscape and ocean environment with strong colours in a direct and graphic manner".

Tony Ogle was born in 1959 and is one of New Zealand's most successful printmakers. Ogle’s prints are full of colour, vibrant and celebrates New Zealands coastal landscapes. His works are extremely technically complex and handmade, with only one edition ever produced. Ogle’s joyful prints celebrates the Kiwi beach life and showcases his authentic connection with New Zealand coastal landscapes.

He is inspired by locations off the beaten track and untouched stitches of the NZ coastlines that portray "unchanged timelessness". Tony strives to capture what he calls a "sense of place" in his art prints.

His work is inspiring since I can relate to it as a Kiwi and I admire how he uses texture to convey a sense of calmness, he perfectly captures Aotearoas essence.

Charles Frederick Goldie

Charles Frederick Goldie was born in Auckland, New Zealand, on 20 October 1870. He is an ancestor of mine, who painted Māori history paintings and portraits of tattooed chiefs. His paintings have been turned into many prints nowadays, I’ve even seen his paintings on postcards and magnets whilst travelling the South Island.

Goldie's career began in 1900 when he started painting images depicting elderly Māori with moko, the 'noble relics of a noble race'. By 1904 Goldie was considered the leading portrait painter of Māori, and was renowned for his technical brilliance. His portraits have become vitally significant to New Zealand art.

Goldie feared that Māori were about to die out or be assimilated by the pakeha so he set out to record the last survivors. This is reinforced through the poses of his elderly subjects and the titles of many of his paintings eg; Last of the Cannibals, A Noble Relic of a Noble Race. Two of his most celebrated works, Darby and Joan and The Widow, portray Goldie’s awareness of the hardships Maori were experiencing. Many Māori individuals see Goldie's works as taonga which represents irreplaceable ancestral images of koroua and kuia. Māori believe the wairua( spirit) of the subject resides in each picture.

I am inspired by Goldie not only because I feel a cultural connection to him but because of his love for Māori culture. His paintings are full of intricate details, and his paintings often look like they can breathe which I find incredible.

Lauren Liess

A crooked smile, wildflowers from the side of the road, a chip in the good china; I love it when things are slightly off and tell a story, because to me, that’s real life. And it’s beautiful.

Lauren Liess is an interior designer who’s style I find inspiring and aesthetic. What caught my eye is her use of prints and nature in her interior design. Her style is simple, relaxed and authentic. She utilizes natural materials, thoughtful art and decor that focuses on people rather than things.

She has a toes-in-the-stream aesthetic and is obsessed with the outdoors, “I’m obsessed with what’s going on outside,” and utilizes a black, white and wood pallet paired with lots of greenery, “When you bring in bits of nature …artwork, interesting accents and fabrics, [the colors are] a museum showcase for it. It’s a textural, natural base.”

I relate to her as we are both inspired by the outdoors. I also like how she incorporates living plants and wood into her modern style.

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barnesandco · 4 years ago

Note

93 with Steve/reader?

R. E. M.

Drabble

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (None, I think)

A/N: It was such a challenge trying to figure out what to do with this prompt but when I started writing, it completely got away from me.

Steve has a secret. One that is gnawing at his insides with sharp teeth, leaving indentations in his chest, and he hates it because that shame, the guilt that comes with this particular pleasure, is entirely unreasonable. He tries to talk himself out of this ridiculous self-consciousness over something perfectly innocuous, but it doesn't work. He tries it all -- c'mon, pal, you've earned this: you're over a hundred years old, you're a war vet, you were trapped in ice for decades, you're Captain America -- but the words he whispers in his own mind go nowhere. They bounce and echo, empty and hollow, and he gets no further.

The urge to hide in his room to partake in his embarrassing interest does not subside. Checking the lock twice out of nervous habit, he chews on the inside of his cheek all the way to the window overlooking the Compound grounds, and the record player that sits there. He puts in the vinyl and -- thanking Tony for soundproof walls -- he relaxes in his safe, sacred corner of the world.

The window sill is cool under him, and leaning his forehead against the glass that is cooler still does wonders for letting the heat of his tension seep out. He's closing his eyes, almost ready to fall asleep to the dulcet sounds of--

A crash. The door flies open and you stumble in, holding a box of that used to hold art supplies, but now, paint pallets and brushes and sketch pads are splayed across his bedroom floor.

You're back on your feet in a second, brushing back still damp hair from your post-mission shower and mouth already open to apologize or explain or both before the melodies filling the room distract you. Mouth snapping shut, your eyes narrow before you place the soft voice and rhythmic music of--

"Ariana Grande?" You say incredulously, but not cruelly or with any hint of judgement, as Steve might have feared. Still, he hurries to shut the door behind you and you whip around to face him while breathin' continues to play. "I didn't know you listened to mainstream pop." It's a statement, but the upturn of your tone indicates a question, with room for an elaboration.

Steve joins you where you start to crouch at the foot of his bed, helping to gather the art supplies, now recalling his promise to teach you to paint. "Yeah," he begins, head ducked and gaze locked on a particularly garish shade of maroon, "I was trying some new stuff out, get with the times, and I liked her voice."

"Oh," you answer, and he looks at your thoughtful face as you both stand again, box on the floor, now full again. breathin' leaves to welcome No Tears Left to Cry.

"What?" He asks in a way that is meant to say do you have a problem with that?

"No, nothing." It's your turn to avoid his gaze, shying away, looking at the record player and the disk turning on it, the box of records next to it. "I guess it just isn't what I expected. I thought you might like sitting and remembering the good old days with some Glenn Miller and whatnot," you tease gently.

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about," he insists firmly, with just as little seriousness, as he pulls the chair out from under his desk and gestures for you to sit next to him where he resumes his seat on the window sill. "I listen to Ella and Sinatra like any other old geezer. Those are the only songs worth bopping to," he says with a full-toothed smile, bringing out his best New York drawl.

You scrunch your nose and flick a small paint brush at his. "You're weird."

He hums, nods, and pulls out a pencil, leaning back nonchalantly with his gaze on the drawing pad. "Or you're just basic." And that earns him a giggle sweeter than Sweetener.

#ayesha writes #i #i don't know anymore #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n

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justjessame · 4 years ago

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The Deal Chapter 58

Negan woke up. I was by his bed, and he was staring up at me. I took his hand in mine and sighed. And then Dad, with Michonne by his side, told one of the men I love exactly what his future held.

“Carl pictured something better. All of us, working together, for something bigger than all of us. You'll have a job, too. You get to be a part of it. You'll be an example of what this will be. You're gonna rot in a cell.” Dad tells him as I hold his hand, and close my eyes against the burning of my building tears. This isn’t what Carl wanted and he knows that, but part of my deal with Dad and Michonne, with Daryl is that I won’t speak against this. The plan for Negan. For that price, I can visit him. I can keep this connection, even if it’s sparse. Even if it isn’t going to be enough.

Michonne, I can feel her eyes on me as she speaks, “For the rest of your life.” My heart pounds in my chest as I feel Negan’s hand tighten on mine.

“You're gonna be evidence we're making a civilization. Something we had, something we're gonna get back. Keeping you breathing will help show people things have changed. That's the part you'll play.” A civilization where someone who could be your strongest soldier, your strongest ally is a prisoner.

My eyes open and I look up as Michonne cuts me as deeply as Negan. “So, after all this. Maybe you're good for something.” As though him saving me, loving me was nothing. Not worth noticing, or worth more than being a caged animal.

They leave us alone. I pull a chair to his bed and sit down. I can feel his eyes on me, but I’m quiet. Was it worth it? The deal I made, the plea I made for his life? Would he think so? Would he agree as the years pass by?

“Hey you,” he whispers, and I have to smile. I’d thought, days ago that I would never hear his voice again. Looking up, his hand reaches out and brushes my hair from my face. “He told me he killed you.” Simon, that asshole. “Made it fucking a pleasure to squeeze the fucking life out of his sorry ass.”

“I thought you were dead.” I offered, drinking in his face. “He told me that, when he left me here hoping that I’d die.” Simon was dead, that was a pleasant thought. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, princess?” He asked, cupping my chin in his hand. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“Everything.” I answer. “For this most of all.” I glance around the room. “For agreeing to-”

He shushed me. “I’m alive because of you.” Yeah, and what kind of life is it? “If I can see you, touch you, then it’s a small price to pay.” I hear the ‘for now’. I can hear it as if he’s screaming it.

“Daryl,” I start and see his eyes flinch. “Negan, I have to say it.” He nods, his hand leaving my face. I take it back in my own and link my fingers through his. “Daryl and I, we-” And now I can’t say it. I can’t tell him that I’ve agreed to a future with Daryl. That he and I are together, because I can see the pain in his eyes at the mere thought of what I was going to say. I sigh and stare at our hands. His long fingers nearly covering the entire back of my hand. The warmth I can feel, reminding me that he’s alive. That he’s here. That he’s with me.

“Hey,” I look back up. “I wasn’t fair, when I asked you to-” And now he’s struggling with the words. “I love you.” He looks as surprised as I am by the words. “I love you, and that means that I have to fucking be happy for you, even if-”

“I love you, too.” His eyes lock on mine. “I do-” I close my eyes, because this part is the hardest. “But I love him, too. And it’s selfish, and it’s cruel, but I do.” When I open mine, he’s smiling at me.

“You’re a miracle. Do you know that?” And I stare at him. “You have so fucking much to give, how did I not fucking see that it was more than even I could hold.”

I snorted. A miracle? Really? “I’m a broken woman, who got pushed to get better by the strangest therapist I’ve ever seen.” His dimples deepen. “Lucky he was so fucking sexy. And I am greedy enough to want him, AND the first man I ever loved. Greedy enough to not give a damn if another woman goes hungry for love just so I can have you both.” His smile has turned to a smirk. “Not sure that’s all that miraculous, Negan.”

“You forced them to save me.” He reminded me. I nodded my agreement. “Have you read Carl’s letter?” Another nod. “Rick’s woman-”

“Michonne,” I supply for him.

“She radioed me,” my shock must be pretty damn clear. “Yeah, I know. She read mine to me.” I wait, I know this is important. “Your brother, he wanted so goddamn much.” I chuckle. “He wanted US, Jessi. He wanted you and me. And he wanted peace.” I nod. “She didn’t tell me you were alive. I-” He sighed. “I don’t know if it would have changed my mind. I don’t know if knowing you were here, ALIVE and waiting would have stopped this. It was just too fucking far gone.”

I’m blinking back the tears that had threatened to fall when Dad and Michonne had issued their edict. Using my free hand, I swipe them away. “I know.” And I do. Now. That this would have happened if I’d never gone to find my family that night. If I’d never met Negan. If he’d never laid eyes on me at all. Carl had expected too much, from Dad and from Negan. They couldn’t have worked this out. With or without me.

I stayed as long as I could, but he was still recuperating, so sleep took him under sooner than I’d expected. I sat with him for a bit as he dreamed, seeing a smile across his lips, I stood and kissed his forehead.

I was walking away from the infirmary when I saw Daryl coming out of the house. He smiled when he caught sight of me. I met him on the porch, letting him pull me into his arms and hold me. My head on his chest, listening to his heart beating, I felt his hands slide down my back.

“How was your visit?” Daryl’s head was propped on top of mine, and I could feel the sound of his words vibrate through my cheek.

“Fine.” I wasn’t going to do that. I wasn’t going to talk to Daryl about Negan and my angst in regards to him. He deserved better, they both did.

“Got plans for the rest of the day?” Daryl’s voice, rough and sweet made me think he was planning on distracting me in my bed again. I shrugged. “Cause I was thinkin’-” I waited, my body almost humming at the promise. “Been awhile since ya had your bow in your hands.”

“That wasn’t the proposition I thought I’d hear from you, Dixon.” I pulled back and looked up at his face, that half smile haunting his mouth. “You’re right. It has been awhile.” Far too long, I thought, since I felt good enough to pick it up.

He pulled me off the porch and I followed, wondering just what he’d set up. And there, away from the come and go of our combined communities, he had his crossbow, a very sweet compound bow for me, and a target that made me laugh.

“Is that?” A body outline with a painted on mustache that looked close enough to Simon that I’d take extreme pleasure of picking up that bow and notching arrow after arrow into his fucking fake face.

“Thought ya’d want a target that would motivate ya.” His eyes were twinkling down at my smile. “Want to bring all of ya back, Jessi.” I nodded, and took the bow that he’d picked up from his hand.

“Let’s see how much rust I’ve let accumulate.” Testing the bow tension, I adjusted it and then, feeling Daryl’s eyes on me, I notched my first arrow.

We walked back as the sky started to darken, hands linked, my bow slung over my shoulder and his crossbow on his own. I was smiling and laughing and I could tell that he was enjoying me, this me the happy one. The one that was regaining her confidence, even if it had taken far more tries than I cared to remember to hit the fucking target where I wanted to.

I was so wrapped up in Daryl and our afternoon, that I nearly missed the hiss. The hissed words aimed right at me as we walked past a group of people that I could swear I didn’t know, and had never met. I felt Daryl’s hand tighten in mine and knew he’d heard it too.

“Negan’s whore.” And I couldn’t tell if it came from one of the women or men. “Fucking traitorous bitch.” I could swear I heard one spit in our direction, but I kept walking, head as high as it had been when I’d walked out and offered my life for Glenn’s. An offer that would never be heard as loud, apparently, as my screams for Dad to save Negan’s life.

We walked all the way to my room, a room that until the day before I’d shared with Judith, in silence. Daryl’s hand still holding tight to mine, our fingers linked, my heart pounding so loudly in my chest that I was sure he could hear it. What had I expected? That I’d be welcomed back, no issues? For God’s sake, they didn’t even look all that happily on me when I went back to Alexandria.

“Jessi,” Daryl’s voice was quiet as I drew my hand from his and went to stand by the window. “Ya can’t let a few-”

I snorted, my go to expression lately it seemed. “Please, Daryl, don’t insult me or yourself by pretending it’s only a few that have those thoughts about me.” I’d seen them, even Maggie who still had Glenn at her side, looked at me like I’d betrayed them by asking for Negan's life to be spared. “I knew it was going to be like this.” My voice was hushed, not masking my pain, but not willing to shout it out either. “I knew when Sasha came to the Sanctuary.” I heard him inhale. Ah, he’d assumed I hadn’t known. “She looked at me like I’d killed Abe myself.” I could still feel her eyes burning into mine, and Negan stepping in front of me so I wouldn’t be hurt. “I saved one, but apparently I should have saved two.”

“Ya didn’t know-” Daryl was begging me to stop blaming myself, but how could I? Not when everyone else clearly did.

“I didn’t know he wouldn’t kill me, Daryl.” I turned to face him, letting the dim light shine over me. “That’s all. I knew that I was too late for Abraham, I watched him do it, paralyzed. I saw him point at Glenn, and I was there. Didn’t even decide to step out, but there he was looking at me.” I could still feel the chill that had driven me to that fucking clearing. The chill warned me that Daryl and Dad were in danger. “I saw a way out, me for Glenn, and I took it.” My eyes met his and I could see his pain at my words, but he had to get it. “I wanted him to kill me, Daryl. I wanted him to take it away, my life, my pain, my fucking failure.” He opened his mouth, but I rushed on. “He didn’t. And that shocked me far more than it shocked any of you, I promise you that.” I leaned against the wall and kept going. “Negan, he’s a persistent bastard. He pushed and pushed.” His eyes narrowed. “Pushed me to TALK, Daryl, nothing else. He wanted to know when, and how. When I’d lost my way. How long it had been since I felt anything. He pushed until I cracked wide open.” His hands were tight fists. “And then, Sasha showed up. And I knew, even after I’d SEEN Olivia watch me like a fucking hawk with MY OWN SISTER, I knew that no one trusted me. Not now. Because he DIDN’T kill me, Daryl. That’s all. If I was dead, I’d have been a fucking martyr. A rallying cry for you to go for his fucking head. I lived and I was a turncoat. And you still went for his head.” My eyes dropped to the floor. “I fell in love with Negan because he saw through my mask without trying and he refused to wait until I asked for help to give it.” I would not apologize to these people for finding comfort in him. Not even my own family. “But even then, I never once blamed anyone for my break, Daryl. That was on ME. Not you. Not Dad. Not Carl.” My voice broke at my little brother’s name. “No one owned my failures, but ME.” I sighed, and looked back up to see him studying me. “And I never once, not even when he asked and begged me to, did I give up loving you.”

Daryl watched me, waiting to see if I was finished. Satisfied I was, he moved forward, putting down his crossbow. Taking my bow from my shoulder and leaning it against the wall I had been, he tilted my chin up so I was staring at his face.

“I hate him, Jessi.” His voice was as hushed as mine. “I hate him for killin’ Abe. I hate him for considerin’ killin’ Glenn.” His thumb brushed my skin. “I hate him for takin’ ya up on that deal. But most of all, I hate him for helpin’ ya when I was too fuckin’ blind and selfish to do it myself.” He was still staring down at me. “I won’t defend him. Not to them. Not for ya. But I will tear them apart if they come for ya again. Words, looks, don’t fuckin’ care. Ya ain’t him, Jessi. And no matter how ya feel for him, that ain’t how they’re gonna talk to ya.”

I started to speak, but he stopped me with a brush of his lips. Just letting me know, with a kiss, that he loved me even if he didn’t agree. That he would never agree with me where Negan was concerned. And I had to wonder, if push came to shove, would Daryl join with the call for Negan’s death and would he forgive me when I stood against him and them.

#The Walking Dead #negan x ofc #daryl dixon x ofc #Smut #rick grimes daughter #OriginalGrimesDaughter

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clemsfilmdiary · 4 years ago

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The Best of October 2020

Best Discovery: Life Is Sweet

Runners Up: Bone, Light Sleeper, Long Dream, My Octopus Teacher, Wild River

Honorable Mention: Amityville II: The Possession

Best Rewatch: Requiem for a Dream

Runners Up: The Hills Have Eyes, Hostel: Part II, Inside, The NeverEnding Story Part II: The Next Chapter, Oculus, Red Angel, The Terminator, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, White Material

Honorable Mention: Revolutionary Road

Best Male Performance: Jim Broadbent in Life Is Sweet

Runners Up: Willem Dafoe in Light Sleeper, Yaphet Kotto in Bone, Jared Leto and Marlon Wayans in Requiem for a Dream

Best Female Performance: Ellen Burstyn in Requiem for a Dream

Close Second: Alison Steadman in Life Is Sweet

Runners Up: Jennifer Connelly in Requiem for a Dream, Béatrice Dalle in Inside, Jane Horrocks in Life Is Sweet, Isabelle Huppert in White Material, Joyce Van Patten in Bone, Ayako Wakao in Red Angel

Best Supporting Performance or Cameo: Timothy Spall in Life Is Sweet

Runners Up: Ellen Barkin in Sea of Love, Jeannie Berlin in Bone, Susan Sarandon in Light Sleeper, David Thewlis in Life Is Sweet

Most Enjoyable Ham: Phoebe Cates in Date with an Angel

Runners Up: Rutanya Alda in Amityville II: The Possession, Glenn Close in Immediate Family, Cary Elwes in Saw, Bette Midler in Gypsy, Eric Roberts in Heaven's Prisoners, Kate Winslet in Revolutionary Road

Best Mise-en-scène: Requiem for a Dream

Runners Up: Charisma, The Conjuring 2, Life Is Sweet, My Octopus Teacher, The NeverEnding Story Part II: The Next Chapter, Pi, Porco Rosso, Red Angel, Saw, The Terminator, White Material

Best Locations: My Octopus Teacher

Runners Up: Charisma, The Hills Have Eyes, Hostel: Part II, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Wild River

Best Score: Requiem for a Dream (Clint Mansell)

Runners Up: Amityville II: The Possession (Lalo Schifrin), Charisma (Gary Ashiya), Life Is Sweet (Rachel Portman), Pi (Clint Mansell), Red Angel (Sei Ikeno), The Terminator (Brad Fiedel), The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (Wayne Bell, Tobe Hooper)

Honorable Mention: Revolutionary Road (Thomas Newman)

Best Hunk: Nathan Gunn in The New York Philharmonic's Performance of Rodgers & Hammerstein's Carousel

Runners Up: Alec Baldwin in Heaven's Prisoners, Marlon Brando and Karl Malden in One-Eyed Jacks, AJ Bowen in The Sacrament, Richard Burgi in Hostel: Part II, Robert Foxworth in The Black Marble, John Goodman in Sea of Love, Rick Rossovich in The Terminator, John Wesley Shipp in The NeverEnding Story Part II: The Next Chapter

Honorable Mention: Ted Levine in The Hills Have Eyes, Laith Nakli and Austin Stowell in Swallow

Assorted Pleasures:

- Paradisiacal Mediterranean fantasy islands in Porco Rosso

- Silver City and Seeing Hand Castle designs, lavish matte painting backgrounds in The NeverEnding Story Part II: The Next Chapter

- Ripe air of homoeroticism in One-Eyed Jacks

- Magical kelp forest location, exquisite octopus photography in My Octopus Teacher

#list #best of the month

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frangipanilove · 5 years ago

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Episode 10x11 “Morningstar”: Sirius, the star that returns just before dawn...

SIRIUS AND MORNINGSTAR

A theme in all of my theories has been how TPTB like to utilize synonymous symbols, for example how the symbols «bear» and «beer» really means the same, and they are utilized in similar ways in TPTB’s use of symbolism. For example, both «beer» and «bear» ultimately points to the North Star, and it ultimately means «home». I’ve written about it elsewhere, so I won’t get into it here. The way it works is that one symbol alone does not tell the full story. It is the symbols together that act like a secret language, where words make up sentences, and several symbols together can tell complex stories. The Sirius symbolism tells one such complex story. It’s been a long story, it started in 4x12 «Still», but now were about to see that story come to its fulfillment, and I suspect these next few weeks will be glorious for TDers!

The Sirius symbolism is without a doubt what I’ve talked about the most in terms of TD symbolism. It took a couple of seasons for me to figure out which direction of TPTB wanted to take it, but I never doubted that I was on to something important, because TPTB consistently left enough breadcrumbs for me to follow, and there was no way they all could’ve been coincidences. I’ve written a master post on my interpretation of the Sirius symbolism here:

https://frangipanilove.tumblr.com/post/183736635005/sirius-and-the-north-star-or-pigs-feet-and-frosty

Since I’ve written so extensively on it earlier, I won’t go into detail, but the bullet points go something like this: Sirius is the brightest star on the night sky Sirius is affectionately called «the Dog Star» (hence all the dog symbolism around Beth) Sirius means «scorching, glowing» Sirius disappears from the night sky for a time, it’s «just gone»… Sirius eventually returns to the nights sky, it re-appears «just before Dawn» Sirius is therefore called «The Morningstar».

Try to put yourself in my shoes for one second. I’ve been tracking the Sirius symbolism for literal years, I’ve written tens of thousands of words on it, and even if I sometimes get super exited over «finds», or «evidence» I also spend a lot of time in self doubt, wondering where this symbolism is supposed to go. Because unless it actually goes somewhere, its useless. Sure, I believe in what I’ve found, and in recent years I’ve had the pleasure of sharing this theory with other brilliant theorists, and engaging in discussions with them, discussing it and enhancing the theories with the help of exeptionally creative people, and if they find it credible, then I shouldn't feel so much self doubt about it, right?

But I always feel that it needs to go somewhere. When will it culminate? When will it be fulfilled?

Well, I believe the time has come! I believe the Sirius symbolism will be fulfilled in a spectacular way real real soon. And this is why:

Episode 10x11 is called………»MORNINGSTAR»!!!

After all the Sirius symbolism we’ve had around Beth (and Rick) since s4, we will now, in just a few weeks, get an episode that will actually canonically be called «Morningstar». Remember, Sirius IS the Morningstar, it re-appears just before dawn after having been «just gone» for some time…

(originally it was Venus that was thought to be the Morningstar. However, Venus is a planet, not a star. It appears at dusk as well as at dawn, but mostly, its not the Morningstar because it’s a planet. Venus has a fascinating history in history, literature and mythology though, and I might do more on it at some point)

I became aware of the Sirius symbolism after 4x13, after watching the now legendary Sirius piggyback.

I observed the Frosty Cola on the kitchen table, serving as a massive hint towards the «Sirius» poems of Robert Frost, And interestingly, just before Siddiq was murdered in 10x7, TPTB gave us one of the most famous Robert Frost quotes in existence; «I’ve got miles to go before I sleep» It foreshadowed Siddiq’s death, but on a happier note, it also provided evidence that the Sirius symbolism was still at play, so many seasons later. Not that I ever doubted it, but its always nice to get confirmation.

THE 10X10 CLOCK FROM «SLABTOWN»

The 10x10 clock from «Slabtown» is probably the single most anticipated piece of symbolism in the TD fandom ever. But I want to officially throw out there that I believe the really groundbreaking symbolic gem will occur in 10x11 «Morningstar». And here’s why:

I’ve written thousands of words on the 10x10 clock over the years, and so has other brilliant theorists in the fandom such as @twdmusicboxmystery @angelthefirst1 @bethgreeneprevails and @wdway to name a few, as well as a large number of anonymous contributors. However, as much as I have been anticipating episode 10x10, I’m starting to believe that the correct way to interpret the «Slabtown» clock is to think of it as pointing towards episode 10x11 «Morningstar» rather that towards 10x10.

In other words, I believe the 10x10 clock from «Slabtown» points to episode 10x11, not 10x10.

Allow me to explain. In «Shane’s «22» necklace» theory, I talked a lot about different ways of interpreting the «Slabtown» clock. I discussed how it can be interpreted as pointing towards episode 2x2, 2x10, 10x2, 10x10.

Obviously these episode numbers consists of various combinations of the numbers on the 10x10 «Slabtown»clock. Read it here if you want:)

https://frangipanilove.tumblr.com/post/187351457970/blue-clues-shanes-22-necklace-truckers

In addition, the number «22» is interesting, as «22» is a different way of writing 10PM. Of course, I want to tie it to the theory I wrote on Shane’s «22» necklace.

But first and foremost, in my opinion it’s Noah's t-shirt that primarily foreshadows 10x11 as an important TD episode. Link to noah’s T-shirt theory here:

https://frangipanilove.tumblr.com/post/185522170650/noahs-t-shirt-theory

Remember Noah's t-shirt? A stylized version of the Blue Heron bird seen behind both Rick and Beth? The bird that I believe ultimately represents survival, rebirth, salvation-via-helicopter?

Noah's t-shirt also had the mysterious writing «One One Recording Studio» on it. And this is the important part; «One One» can be interpreted simply as «2»!

Or….»11»!

And if this is starting to seem a bit technical with a bunch of random numbers, please don’t give up on me just yet, there will be a point to all of this! The «one one» on Noahs t-shirt is not random, far from it! It’s super significant !

Remember the fire truck that Abe and friends found, and used to drive towards Washington DC back in 5x5 «Self Help»? They conveniently found it in a building that had a giant «102» written on it. The fire truck itself had «82» written on it. It foreshadowed the Blue Heron painting seen behind Rick in 8x2, and it was one of the first instances of foreshadowing fulfilled that I discovered myself. I wrote about it in «Noah's t-shirt theory».

But my point this time around, is that I suspected that there could be several ways of interpreting the «82» on the fire truck. It could clearly also point to 8x11, because obviously «11» consists of two «ones», or «one one» as Noah's t-shirt said.

And 8x11 actually turned out to be a treasure trove of this particular brand of Sirius symbolism that ’m looking for.

Remember in Robert Frost’s original poems about Sirius he describes Sirius as a «…heavenly overlord with a star in its eye». Sirius was referred to as a one-eyed dog because of the celestial maps used at the time, had the constellation “Canis Major” depicted with a star in one eye (Sirius), giving the impression of being a one-eyed dog.

TPTB played into this impression of Sirius as a one-eyed dog by having the scruffy one-eyed dog come visit Beth and Daryl in 4x13 «Alone». Sirius as a one-eyed dog is canon in TWD-verse.

So, back to 8x11. We watched Father Gabriel, almost blind due to an infection on the optical nerve, stumble his way across a virtual minefield of animal traps surrounding a dilapidated house that we later came to affectionately call the Radio Shack.

Radios are closely associated to Sirius symbolism due to the connotation to Sirius Satellite Radio, something which I explained in my Sirius masterpost that I linked to above.

So the fact that FG lost his eyesight on one eye in this episode (and became a Sirius figure «with a star in one eye» ) is super significant.

There were other significant moments as well, such as when FG and Dr. Carson found a piggy bank with the inscription «Ham Radio» in the radio shack. Ham radio is a term describing short band amateur radio.

But anyone remember the «Sirius Piggyback» from «Alone»? In order to tie these two episodes together, TPTB gave us a Sirius Piggyback in 4x13, and a Sirius Piggybank in 8x11.

Also, I believe there’s a connection between the «Ham Radio» Piggy bank, the Sirius piggyback and the Pig’s feet. More on that in a different post.

An even crazier callback to «Alone» was the animal traps outside the radio shack. Dr. Carson managed to step into one of them, much like Beth did in 4x13.

The Sirius callbacks in 8x11 makes me expect great things from 10x11 «Morningstar». And on the surface, it will probably be about the new cool medieval weapon we’ve seen Daryl sexily carrying around in various teasers. But come on! This episode is not about some weapon, unless you want to describe Beth as a weapon. And I’m sure you could!

I also at one point wrote a post about a sequence from 2x8 “Nebraska”. Rick, Glenn and Hershel encountered a couple of guys from Philadelphia. They weren’t the friendly kind, and ended up dead pretty soon, but the sequence was interesting for a few reasons. One, the Philly dude was wearing a sports team t-shirt with the number...yes...11 on the back. Also, much later it was indicated through a teaser that the Helicopter people had taken Rick to Philadelphia. Or at least that Philadelphia was involved in Rick’s new arc in some way.

Here’s my post on it:

https://frangipanilove.tumblr.com/post/187000918775/the-philadelphia-angle-or-noahs-t-shirt-theory

I’ve been tracking Sirius symbolism since s4. Its not a coincidence that we now get an episode called «Morningstar»! It’s fulfillment of symbolism from up to six seasons ago. And it’s certainly no coincidence that «Morningstar» will be the eleventh episode of the season. On the contrary, it’s a continuation of the Sirius thematics introduced in 8x11, with FG, the radio shack and the animal traps.

It will also be a fulfillment of the «One One Recording Studio» written on Noah's t-shirt.

And, if you need further evidence that 10x11 will be huge for TD, consider that Christ at one point in the Bible, namely in Revelation 22.16, described himself as «the Morningstar»:

«I Jesus have sent mine angel to testify unto you these things in the churches. I am the root and the offspring of David, and the bright and morning star.» Every TDer will recognize Beth as a Christ figure, and reading about Christ describing himself as the «morning star» should make us all very exited about 10x11.

This is already long, so I’ll stop now. But know that there is plenty more to say about this. For instance, despite having written about Shane’s «22» necklace, I haven’t elaborated much on the Beth/Shane parallels/anti-parallels, which I absolutely could’ve. But did anyone notice exactly where in «Revelation» Christ referred to himself as the «Morning Star»? Yup, it was Revelation 22.16.

We have a «22» reference and a «Morning Star» reference in the same spot in the Bible. Shane has a «22» necklace, and the «10x10» clock from «Slabtown» can be interpreted as pointing to various episodes containing the numbers «22» (2x2, 2x10, 10x2, 10x10), it could point to «22» as in 10PM, it could point to 10x11 «Morningstar», it could point to Revelation 22.16. It’s never-ending.

Not to mention, something that occurred to me the other day…At this point I’m not entirely sure how much emphasis I should put on it, but as far a coincidences go, this was an interesting one…

Daryls scar can easily be interpreted as pointing towards 10x11! The “x” obviously stands for “10″, and the parallel lines could easily be interpreted as “2″, or “11″...

Interestingly, it is also fairly common to utilize «Morningstar» as a name associated with the Devil, as in Lucifer Morningstar. And here’s where it gets messy, because «Lucifer» literally means «Light Bringer» and is meant to describe “Venus as the Morningstar” bringing the first light. To my knowledge, the use of «Morningstar» as a name for the Devil has its origin from art and literature rather than from the Bible. But I’m curious to see what TPTB does with this rich material. There are so many ways they could play it.

But bottom line is, Venus was a planet, while Sirius is the actual Morning Star. And the Morningstar will arrive in about three weeks....

Can this hiatus please be over already, it’s been 184 years…

#Team Delusional #team defiance #team beth lives #bethyl #Beth Greene #BETH LIVES #beth is alive #beth x daryl #beth and daryl #twd #10x11 morningstar

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lgbtqiahistoricalromance · 6 years ago

Note

Deb! Do you have a list of your top fav m/m romances???

Ok, so I have had this ask in my box forever, and I think I finally have an almost complete list…Happy Reading!! @posh-boy-clever-boy

Single Titles

Downtime by Tamara Allen (A sleuth and a librarian in a time travel investigation.)

The Reluctant Berserker by Alex Beecroft (Read this one for Beecroft’s amazing use of language to paint a picture, and a new take on the roles of warriors and bards.)

Think of England by KJ Charles (Portuguese Jewish MC and the sleuthing former soldier that aids him in this wonderful case investigation.)

Merrick & William (sequel) by Claire Cray (1799 NY; one of the most unusual romances I’ve read, it does have an elemental of the paranormal, but it’s woven in gently and the scenes are full of great tension)

A Private Gentleman by Heidi Cullinan (MC with PTSD from childhood trauma and vision issues, and MC with speech and addiction issues; not an easy read, but so sweet)

The Gentleman and the Lamplighter by Summer Devon (A widower and the man he keeps encountering at night, when he cannot sleep. Novella length.)

The Pillar by Kim Fielding (This one has a beautiful story of two men healing one another, and includes a lot of unique details not often found in historicals; features a lot of botan.)

Briarley by Astor Glenn Gray (WWI, May/December retelling of Beauty and the Beast)

The Replacement Husband by Eliot Grayson (Sweet May/December romance in an alt Regency era)

The Bibliophile by Drew Marvin Fraye (1880′s frontier May/December romances)

Stoker & Bash by Selina Kray (Two novels so far, and some great, witty interactions in this one.)

A Margin of Promise by Emma Lanner (Younger MC in love with an older man he’s basically idolized since youth; this one will keep you guessing to the end, because it’s a bit of a triangle. One of the sweetest romances I’ve ever read, and I wish the author had written more.)

The Forgotten Man by Ryan Loveless (1930′s Chanukah romance between a widower with a child, and a fellow returning soldier.)

Behind Closed Doors: Indecent Proposals Book One by Jude Lucens (Demisexual MC, Biracial MC from prequel novella, several poly relationships, WOC/biracial/poly author)

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee (Biracial MC with a physical disability and the reprobate best friend that loves him. Romance, adventure, healing, and a kick ass dose of assistance from one MC’s ace sister.)

We Met in Dreams by Rowan McAllister (May/December cusp between a younger man with mental health issues, and the apparition that comes to care for him. Plot twist on this one.)

The Blue Ribbon by Katherine Marlowe (A grumpy chemistry professor must return to his family inn, and ends up running across a wily highwayman. Includes a nice case solving spree.)

The Butler and the Groom by Katherine Marlowe (MC of color that is trying to work his way up in the household, and the stable groom that wants to teach him there is more to life than work; the ending on this one is a delight.)

A Wager Of Love by Katherine Marlowe (Poetry, philosophy, friends-to-lovers, and just an all around sweet romance between two young man that make a wager on whether love is real.)

A Scot’s Surrender by Lily Maxton (The Townsends Book Three) (One very guarded MC, and one that is always trying to protect his family-because they cause a lot of mayhem. Funny and also a bit heartbreaking in places.)

The Black Sheep and the Rotten Apple by KA Merikan (A highwayman that is an absolute cinnamon roll, and the rapscallion young man he kidnaps for ransom. Slightly dubcon in one scene, but Julian is also a tease.)

The Art of Pleasure by KA Merikan (One young man that worries about losing his essence, and how he learns the ins and outs of pleasure with other men.)

The Wrong Kind of Angel by Ruby Moone (One of the first published m/m romances I read, and still a favorite. A soldier determined to live a quiet life where he can’t get into trouble, and the escaped rent boy that brings life back into his world.)

The Mistletoe Kiss by Ruby Moone (May/December romance between an older man with a physical disability and the young returned soldier that he hires to work in his bookshop. Christmas novel, but so sweet, I’ve read it probably 15 times.)

Memories by Ruby Moone (Two soldiers cross paths in an enemies-to-lovers scenario that isn’t at all what it seems. Strong elements of PTSD, but a great novel on healing all sorts of wounds.)

The Moth and Moon by Glenn Quigley (Alt reality 1700′s England, with larger MCS in their 40s and 50s)

A Complicated Affair by Kian Rhodes (Ignore the cover, because it’s nothing like the novel. Read this May/December romance for the wonderful ending that makes of research on law and medicine.)

Madcap Masquerade by Persephone Roth (May/December romance between the older MC that has the money to save the estate of the younger, and the young MC that poses as his own sister so she can marry someone else.)

Earthly Pleasure by Sara Trevor (Alt Regency era; this one is great for the alt theological angle and the outcome)

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Deanna Wadsworth (Retelling with Ichabod and Brom in an enemies-to-lovers trope, part of a series of “twisted” retellings, the ending keeps it from being strictly erotica)

A Little Sin by Sionnach Wintergreen (1920′s rural Texas; WWI vet and veterinarian w/PTSD MC and a widowed sheriff; extra points for intelligent and plot-moving WOC)

Series…

All the series books by KJ Charles

The Duke & The Dandy series by Zakarrie Clarke

Surrey SFS series by Nicola Davidson

All the series books by Jordan L Hawk

SciFi Regency series by JL Langley

All the series books by Cat Sebastian

Dark is the Night series by Kelley York and Rowan Altwood

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harttohartforever-blog · 5 years ago

Text

The Red Strokes

"Many of you were here last year when I sang a song to Jonathan for our anniversary. Well, he insisted on a song this year as well. Last year his gift to me was a very special painting. Darling, here is my painting for you." Jennifer nodded at the orchestra and took a deep breath.

"Moonlight on canvas, midnight and wine

two shadows starting to softly combine

The picture they're painting is one of the heart

And to those who have seen it

it's a true work of art

Oh, the red strokes, passions uncaged

thundering moments of tenderness rage

Oh the red strokes, tempered and strong

burning the night like the dawn

Steam on the window, salt in a kiss

two hearts have never pounded like this

Inspired by a vision

that they can't command

erasing the borders

with each brush of a hand

Oh, the red strokes, passions uncaged

Thundering moments of tenderness rage

Oh, the red strokes, fearlessly drawn

burning the night like the dawn

The blues will be blue and the jealousies green

but when love picks its shade

it demands to be seen

Oh, the red strokes, passions uncaged

Thundering moments of tenderness rage

Oh, the red strokes, fearlessly drawn

burning the night like the dawn

Steam on a window, salt in a kiss

two hearts have never pounded like this

Happy anniversary, Darling."

The applause was loud in the ballroom Jonathan had reserved for the anniversary party this year. Jennifer wouldn't tell him what she planned to sing but he pulled out all the stops, booking the Legacy Ballroom and an orchestra to accompany her and provide music for dancing.

The room was filled with men in either black tie or Naval uniforms, the ladies in elegant ballgowns. Jennifer's peach-colored chiffon stood out among the sea of mostly black dresses, its strapless bodice thickly paved with crystals. Around her neck, she wore his gift to her this year, a necklace of perfectly matched, cultured pearls with a large, antique, cushion-cut diamond enhancer lying against her sternum, its banked fire flashing and throwing sparks as she moved.

The orchestra had played during the cocktail hour, and then, once Jennifer's song was through, they played unobtrusively throughout the dinner service as the waiters passed grilled duck breast and shrimp skewers. At nine the orchestra played the intro to their final song, the Sweetheart's Dance, just for the Harts alone. Jonathan led her onto the dance floor to the first strains of Once Upon A Dream. After he had waltzed her around and around for about two minutes alone the deejay called for all the married couples to join them on the dance floor. When the last notes faded the deejay took over to provide plenty of dance music. They danced the evening away, Jennifer was twirled around the floor with seemingly every man at the party while Jonathan was much in demand as a competent partner, he knew how to make even the most amateur dancer feel like the belle of the ball.

"I need to be alone with you." He told Jennifer when they finally had the chance to dance together again to a recording of the Glenn Miller Orchestra's performance of Sunrise Serenade. "That was quite a song you chose. I felt like I was making love to you through the whole thing."

"That was the idea." She smiled radiantly as he waltzed her into a dip and then kissed her soundly on the way back up.

"I think every man in here had the same thought."

"Then maybe some of their wives will get as lucky as I'm going to get tonight."

"What makes you so sure you are going to get lucky tonight?" His voice was a sensual growl that traveled from her ears straight to all the pleasure centers in her brain and she shivered delicately in his arms.

"Experience," she answered tartly. "I can see it in your eyes. Right now you are wondering if we can slip away quietly like we did at our wedding reception. It's only too bad we have such a long ride home. I don't think Max is going to want to leave his poker game with the waitstaff quite so early."

"It might be the best thing for him, before he loses all his money to them. Besides, it's not early Darling, it's past midnight. It's time for the carriage to turn back into a pumpkin."

"That's Cinderella. Once Upon A Dream is from Sleeping Beauty."

"Well, it's time I got my Beauty home and into bed."

"That was the general idea."

They cuddled in the backseat as Max piloted the big car across the 101 and then South on the 405. They could never drive the 405 without remembering the day they had found Freeway on the ramp. He was just a filthy bundle of fur but Jennifer had insisted they stop and rescue the little pup. Tonight, she had her arms around Jonathan's neck, her fingers in his hair and she had drunk enough champagne toasts that she was feeling no pain.

The sticky August heat inland became cooler and they could smell the salt air coming off the ocean as Max turned onto Sunset Boulevard then up into the canyon. At this hour of the morning, there was almost no traffic and they made it home in about 35 minutes. Jonathan went to bring up a couple of brandies for a nightcap while Jennifer slipped upstairs to change into something more comfortable.

"Why, Mr. Hart, are you trying to take advantage of me?" She asked when he walked into the bedroom with two crystal snifters of Remy Martin XO.

"I rather thought it was the other way around." He told her, clinking his balloon glass to hers. "After that song choice tonight I suspect you have designs on my virtue."

"I don't want your virtue Darling, it's your vice I'm interested in," Jennifer looked delicious in a long, black silk nightgown that swirled around her ankles much the same as her ballgown had earlier. For him, dancing with her was always like an extension of their foreplay. After an evening of holding her close, or even watching her dance with others, seeing the way her dancer's body moved, he could hardly wait to be alone with her. She considered herself lucky that she had married a man who loved to dance, but before her, he hadn't cared about dancing at all.

Jennifer had studied ballet and modern dance right up through college, and still took classes occasionally. The night they met he had taken her to the various night clubs of London and they danced the night away then too. He could waltz and foxtrot passably thanks to Max's insistence that he learn the skills expected of a gentleman, but he had never loved it until he danced with Jennifer. During their very brief engagement, he had taken a crash course in dancing, practicing every evening in order to keep up with her.

Holding her tonight, feeling the heat from her skin radiating through the thin silk of her negligee and remembering how beautiful she looked singing just for him as though the ballroom full of people didn't exist, he felt again the enormity of his love for her. Jennifer had improved his life in every way, he would give her the sun and stars if she asked, dancing was such a simple request.

"What was that you sang, about salt in a kiss?" He asked her, kissing that spot on her throat that always made her crazy. She threw her head back, encouraging his exploration of her soft skin before leading him to their big bed. She had her favorite sheets on the bed, the royal blue ones that flattered her pale, freckled skin, made of pure mulberry silk that was just as smooth and soft as satin but breathed so much better.

On these hot, sticky summer nights the lightweight silk made sleeping bearable. They could leave the air conditioning turned off and throw the big windows open to the evening breezes. The smells of night-blooming jasmine and moonflowers drifted in with the sounds of the coyotes calling to each other in the canyon. Very rarely, they would hear the distant echo of a wolf howling, the eerie sound always filling Jennifer with a kind of beautiful sadness she could never put into words.

Jonathan paused a split second from entering her, her legs wrapped around his hips, her body slick and aching for him, he saw her again like it was the first time. He was looking into her eyes as he moved in her with exquisite, agonizing slowness. Her pupils dilated and her breath stopped for a heartbeat when he, at last, filled her completely. His name on her lips was a plea as he moved back out with the same slow control until her body responded to him from that place beyond words, Her nails clawed at his back, her heels a drumbeat on his thighs, her muscles holding him tightly within her until he let go as well, filling her with everything that words could never convey.

When he collapsed beside her, both of them breathing hard, she turned with him to hold him inside her a little longer. He was caught in her eyes just as surely as within her body. She was the center of his universe, the sun that kept everything spinning in rhythm. It sounded so corny even in his own mind to say that she completed him but that was exactly what she did. She complimented him, her strengths balancing his weaknesses, as he did for her. They fit together so perfectly that nothing could ever come between them or break them apart.

Chapter Two

"Jennifer? Can you come right away? I need your help." Beth sounded frantic and Jennifer looked blearily across Jonathan's body at the clock. 9:15. It had been nearly one-thirty when she and Jonathan had gotten in last night. And after three when they, at last, fell asleep in each other's arms. Between the many, many champagne toasts and the brandy they had shared at home, it felt like the party was still going on inside her head.

"Of course, Beth. What's wrong?"

"It's Gianna. I think she's been kidnapped."

"We'll be there in an hour." Jennifer hung up the phone and shook Jonathan awake. They both dressed quickly and told Max they would be back later. The drive to Sherman Oaks took thirty minutes and then they were pulling through Beth and Cary's gate, parking behind Beth's sporty red SUV.

"All right Beth. Why do you think something has happened to Gianna?" Jonathan asked when they had been shown into the Aldridge's living room.

"We got a phone call. It was from her phone, but it was a man. He said they have Gianna. Not to call the police, and they want five million dollars transferred to a numbered account at Fidelity Bank of the Bahamas by four p.m. or they will kill her." Cary answered for his wife. He was much calmer than Beth. "What do you think, Jonathan? Should I pay it?"

"We're not there yet. Let's start with the obvious. Did you call the school to see if Gianna is there? Maybe it's just a really bad prank." Jonathan spoke seriously, his mind racing. He and Cary had been friends since college. Jonathan had been the best man at his wedding, and he had a photo in his study of Jennifer dancing with a two-year-old Gianna at their own anniversary party five years later.

"I called the school," Beth spoke up although her voice shook. "They said she never arrived."

"Was she driving?" Jennifer asked suddenly. "OnStar should be able to track her car." Gianna had been so excited to get her license just a few months ago, Beth and Cary had given her a little Chevy Volt as a birthday gift.

"No, she rode in with her friend Molly. I've already checked, she didn't make it to school either and her car wasn't equipped with a tracking device. Her parents are on their way over." Beth broke down in tears, Jennifer moving swiftly to hold the sobbing woman. She couldn't imagine what Beth must be going through. The Aldridges had married older, much as she and Jonathan had, but unlike the Harts, Beth and Cary had been blessed with a child. Gianna was the light of their lives.

Just then there was another knock at the door and the housekeeper ushered in a younger couple. Chris and Maggie Malone were in their early thirties and despite living in Sherman Oaks they clearly were not as well off as the Aldridges. Unfortunately, they knew as well as Jonathan did what that likely meant if Gianna had truly been kidnapped. Molly was collateral damage, she had no value as a hostage, therefore a kidnapper would have little reason to keep her alive.

"Why not check Gianna's GPS history? It might tell us something about where she has been recently." Jonathan suggested. The other two men followed him out to the garage where Gianna's little blue convertible was plugged in. Cary activated the touchscreen display and called up her GPS history. It showed her most frequently visiting the Westfield Mall with school in a distant second place.

Chris Malone suggested driving over to the mall to see if anyone remembered the girls or saw anything suspicious recently but Jonathan took him aside and asked him to stay and help Cary see to the women. Privately he thought that canvassing the mall might be a good idea but he didn't want to risk Chris accidentally finding his own daughter's body. He and Jennifer could investigate the mall on their own.

"Cary, you stay by the phone and call me immediately if you hear anything, anything at all. And Chris, why don't you and the ladies call around to the girl's friends and see if they know anything. Jennifer and I will check the mall and around the high school." Gianna and Molly attended Campbell Hall in Laurel Canyon where they were both starting their junior year.

The mall had only been open for an hour or so when he and Jennifer started asking around, showing pictures of both girls. Several employees recalled seeing the girls around at various times, especially in the food court but no one could really identify when they had last seen them with any certainty. Jonathan and Jennifer were in the security office trying to convince the on-duty Captain to let them review security footage to see if there had been anyone following the girls recently when Jonathan's cell phone chirped.

"Abe ... What? When? We're on our way now. I'll call you when we find out anything." He pocketed his phone and turned to the security officer. "Where is 2bella?"

"That's in the east wing, on the first floor, it's that way." He pointed down the left side of the huge space and Jonathan took off at a run, Jennifer hot on his heels. "Gianna's credit card was just used at a store called 2bella a few minutes ago. I had Abe flag her card when I asked him to track her cell phone. Whoever has her card might still be in the area if we can get there fast enough." He panted, threading his way past early shoppers and small clots of track-suit-clad mall walkers.

The clerk in the boutique remembered a group of high school aged girls who all seemed to be together but couldn't specify if Gianna or Molly had been part of the group. She did recall that they were talking about going to Sephora next setting Jonathan and Jennifer off running again. Sure enough, Sephora was filled with teens, one of whom was very familiar.

"Uncle Jonathan, what are you doing here?" Gianna asked him as he tried to catch his breath. Jennifer was already dialing her phone as soon as she spotted Molly Malone in the crowd as well.

"Cary, we've got them. They are safe. Yes, both of them. We don't have any information yet. We'll be headed back to you in a few minutes." She hung up the phone and turned her attention back to the girls.

"We just decided to skip today, we didn't have any important classes, it's just review from last year. And I lost my phone somewhere. What's the big deal? I can't believe my dad sent you after me." Gianna looked embarrassed being singled out and Jennifer felt bad for her but Jonathan took the two girls aside for a quiet conversation after which both girls looked worried and quickly gathered their bags and sprinted towards the exit.

"They are heading straight back to Cary's house. I told Molly her parents are waiting there as well. I'd better call and let them know the girls are safe ..."

"I already did," Jennifer interrupted him. "But what happened?"

"Thank you, Darling." They both began to move towards the exit as well. "It seems the whole pep squad decided to ditch their morning classes and meet here for some retail team building. They all met up in the food court and it was half an hour before Gianna noticed her phone was missing."

"Just this once I wish she was a normal teenager obsessed with her phone, it might have saved a lot of worry if she had noticed it sooner."

Jennifer commented.

"I don't think so, Darling. And I don't think Gianna lost her phone. It's too coincidental to think that a random stranger finds her phone and decides to stage a fake kidnapping AND just happens to call the wealthiest parents in the school. Someone knew what the girls were planning and took advantage of the circumstances. Will you drive back to Cary and Beth's, please? I need to speak to Abe again." Jonathan's brow was furrowed as he scrolled through his contacts.

She was horrified by the idea that someone would be so cruel as to play a prank of this magnitude on her friends. The drive back to the Aldridge estate was a quiet one as Jonathan had a cryptic conversation with Hart Industries head of cybersecurity, Abe Solomon. She was very happy to see the girls climbing out of Molly's white Jeep in front of the Aldridge's house when she pulled up to the gate. All four parents came spilling through the front door crying happier tears now and hugging the girls.

The Malones, in particular, couldn't seem to let go of their daughter, standing in a close huddle, rocking back and forth and crying on each other. Jennifer could empathize with the special fear they must have been grappling with. Cary and Beth had known that their daughter was most likely alive and unharmed, the Malone's didn't even have that comfort. Jonathan asked that all of the adults meet him in the living room when they were ready and led Jennifer inside.

She would not normally presume to make requests of someone else's staff but today she sought out Beth's housekeeper, Ingrid, and asked her to make some strong coffee and sandwiches for everyone. She couldn't help but notice that Ingrid's eyes were red too. She had been the Aldridge's housekeeper since before Gianna was born and she had been praying for The Virgin to intercede and bring the girls home safe. Now she promised to have lunch on the table in half an hour and Jennifer returned to find the adults clustered in the living room listening to Jonathan explain his theory.

"I don't think any of this was a coincidence. I believe someone knew that the girls were planning to skip school and followed them to the mall. I think they used the bustle of the group as cover to steal Gianna's phone and make that call to Beth."

"But Jonathan, if that were true then whoever it was would have to know what I am worth. Why ask for so little?" Carrington Kendrick Aldridge had taken a modest hundred million dollar inheritance and turned it into a multi-billion dollar conglomerate of air and sea shipping companies.

"Because their plan depended on you paying quickly. They needed to ask for an amount you could put together within a couple of hours. The longer it took the more chance there was that you would discover they didn't actually have Gianna, just her phone. The whole scheme would fall apart if she simply borrowed a friend's phone and called home for any reason.

I have asked my corporate investigator to find me the location of Gianna's phone. The supposed kidnapper probably doesn't know Gianna is home. I'd like to play this out. Let him think that you are going to pay, that you are sick with worry over her safety. Drag it out as long as you can, give Abe time to do what he does."

"Look, Jonathan, I'd like to catch the guy too, frankly I'd like to pummel his face into the pavement, but Gianna is home safe and the phone is easily replaceable. Why not just leave it at that?" Cary asked him.

"Because if he is desperate enough to try a stunt like this he may not give up so easily. And next time he might not be bluffing. I don't think Gianna will really be out of danger until we figure out who it is and stop them for good."

"You're right of course. I hadn't thought about that. All right, Jonathan. We'll play this your way. Tell us what you need us to do." Cary spoke but the others nodded their agreement.

"For now just keep on as you have been. Call Gianna's phone and just keep them talking as long as you can. Ask to talk to Gianna, but don't push too hard when he refuses. Maybe talk about how distraught her mother is. Anything to keep the line open while Abe does what he needs to."

"Jonathan, why not just use one of those 'find your friends' apps? Gianna must have one, all the kids do." Jennifer asked him. "It will tell you where the phone is in just a few seconds."

"Abe will be able to get a much more precise location, he only needs to phone to be active for a minute or so and he can pinpoint the location to within a few feet." He nodded at Cary who dialed his daughter's phone number and performed as Jonathan suggested. He wasn't able to keep the faux kidnapper on the line for more than a minute but it was enough. Jonathan's phone chirped again and Abe was able to provide him with an address.

Jonathan tried to convince Cary and Chris Malone to remain behind but they would not hear of it so he had to settle for asking the police to meet them there. Abe's information led them to a house about fifteen minutes from the Aldridge home in another upscale neighborhood. Unlike the homes surrounding it however, this house appeared to have fallen on hard times. The lawn was overgrown and turning brown in patches, and there were cobwebs accumulating in the corners of the wide porch. When Jonathan rang the bell they heard the sound of footsteps and then the door was opened by a teenage girl in a Campbell Hall school uniform with the inevitable Airpods in her ears. Cary introduced himself and asked if her parents were home.

"Da-ad, it's some guy for you. I'll be in the kitchen if you ever get ready to take me to school." Just as she bounced out of the room a man came downstairs, preoccupied with shuffling through a stack of letters in his hand. When he glanced up and spotted the three men in his foyer he looked panicked and tried to bolt past them for the door. The crunching sound of his nose breaking seemed very loud when Cary punched him just as Jonathan launched himself into a flying tackle at his midsection. The man went down in a tangle of arms and legs and made no attempt to get up again.

"Why did you do it?" Cary shouted at him.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about. How did you get in here?" The fear in his eyes gave him away and Cary took out his phone. He punched the redial button and the unmistakable bubblegum sound of Taylor Swift came from the man's pocket. Chris grabbed him roughly and pulled a bedazzled blue cellphone from his pocket just as the police knocked at the front door.

David Standish became very chatty once the handcuffs were on. He had made some bad stock investments recently and was being foreclosed on by his creditors. His daughter Alecia was on the cheerleading team with Gianna and Molly. When he overheard the plan to ditch school he saw an opportunity to get back on his feet. This morning he pretended to 'catch' Alecia and grounded her so she couldn't reveal him then it was a simple matter of getting close to the oblivious group of girls at the food court and stealing Gianna's phone when she put it down. He figured that since he asked for so little Cary would just pay him quickly and quietly rather than risk Gianna's safety.

He claimed it wasn't really a crime since he didn't actually kidnap Gianna and was surprised when Officer Benton informed him that he did, in fact, commit attempted felony extortion as well as theft of the cell phone. Cary gave a disgusted snort when David started pleading for mercy on behalf of his family and begged him not to press charges. Chris coldly informed him that he was pressing charges even if Cary didn't and he should be grateful they weren't suing him for intentional infliction of emotional distress. That was the last they heard from Mr. Standish as the cops led him away. They returned to the Aldridge estate where Jonathan and Chris collected their respective women and left, the ladies promising to make plans to meet for lunch next week.

At home, Jennifer suggested a soak in the hot tub since they left in such a hurry this morning. The spa was a fairly new addition. After fire destroyed the house in '94 they had made a few upgrades to the rebuild that it had been needing, including enlarging the small balcony off of the master bedroom and which now sported the jacuzzi set into the deck and a couple of comfortable chaises for sitting outside and enjoying the balmy southern California weather. With fifty acres of empty canyon wrapped around the house, they were free to forego swimwear, as they were doing now.

"To anniversaries." Jonathan raised his wine glass, "May they never get boring."

"That's what I love about you, Darling. I meet such interesting people. I think my next husband will be a nice, boring banker. Or an accountant."

"Your next husband? Darling, you could never leave me, you love me. You can't live without me. You will never have this much fun with anyone else."

"Jonathan?"

"Yes, Darling."

"Move your foot."

"You love me. You know you love me. I know you know you love me."

"All right, Darling. I love you. Now, would you rub my back for a minute please." She turned to rest her arms on the deck as Jonathan crossed the small space between them and positioned himself behind her. Her sleek blowout was completely undone in the steam and the tendrils that escaped her hair tie clung to her neck in damp curls that reminded him of how sweetly tousled she looked when they made love.

She knew what he was thinking by the way his hands felt on her back, one minute kneading the knots from her neck and the next lightly running his fingers down her spine. She shifted slightly, moving closer to him and wedging him firmly against her butt, smiling as she felt the sudden jump in his attention. His gentle stroking continued along her sides, tracing an hourglass under the water, making her sigh and lay her head back onto his shoulder.

"What were we talking about?" Her voice was already husky and sexy sounding and he could feel her moving against him. The bubbles added a new dimension to their playful banter.

"How much you love me, how you could never, ever leave me." He reminded her, nudging even closer against her.

"I could leave you if I wanted to." She insisted, even as she pressed back against him, her voice becoming ever more ragged in the flow of bubbles from the jets. It was an old routine between them. He could talk her into anything because she was helpless when he turned the full wattage of his seduction on her. But there was always a moment of apogee, when he became helpless in the face of her touch. If she was powerless to resist his words, he was just as paralyzed by her caress.

The bathrobes draped over the nearest chaise were still warm from the late afternoon sun when Jonathan rose out of the jacuzzi and held the thick white terry out for her to step into. And when she went into her dressing room to select a negligee she found one already laid out on the blue velvet upholstery of her slipper chair.

"How does he do that?" She mused under her breath. Jonathan had been with her all afternoon and yet here was one of her favorite negligees all ready for her to slip into. She was certain this was one task he would not entrust to Max, and yet how else could he have accomplished it?

"Magic." She had been so deep in thought she hadn't noticed him approach and she jumped at his voice.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said 'magic'. You were wondering how I got your gown laid out without you noticing." He smirked at her look of confusion and held the garment in question out for her slip on. He was already wearing a pair of soft pajama pants in white silk with black piping trim. His favorite gold chain glinting at her from its nest in his chest hair. She was so glad he had never gone in for the current fad of waxing his chest. Smooth, hairless chests might be trendy but she had always found his hair to be sexy. She loved the rough feel of it under her fingers when they made love, the way he responded so quickly when she toyed with it through his open collars, and especially how the gold coin he wore on a chain looked resting in the thick brown nest.

The coin had been a gift from her on their first Christmas together, after he had commented about having a lucky penny growing up in the orphanage. He had immediately taken the coin to the jewelers and had it strung on a chain so he could always have it close to his heart. In all the years they had been married he had never taken it off and seeing it there still moved her.

The gown he had chosen for tonight matched his pants, of course, he frequently chose his own clothing to complement hers. She was wearing the same white silk but hers was styled like a traditional cheongsam, the formal high neck Chinese dress slit high up both sides. It was inked in black with watercolor peonies and a vertical line of calligraphy that translated to 'When I met you the sky burned, and so did I'. He had commissioned an artist to paint it especially for her the year she turned 50. That had been a difficult birthday for her since menopause had her questioning her sexuality and whether she was still desirable to him. The gown made her feel beautiful and sexy and very, very cherished.

"It's not the gown," she had told him that night with happy tears in her eyes. "It's how you see me." It still remained one of her favorite gifts. The fabric hugged her slender body and whispered against her skin.

"I want to give you all of the beautiful love words you deserve but your eyes steal all of my words away." He told her now.

"Jonathan, you always say the sweetest things. I wish that I had taken the time to write down all of the beautiful things you tell me. If I had put them all in a book it would be a runaway bestseller. Finally, a definitive primer on how to understand the heart of a woman. But I never wrote them down and my only excuse is that I was too busy being in love with you."

The big California king was an island unto itself when they met in the middle of it. Jonathan fingered the satin frogs that closed her gown from shoulder to hip, slipping them free one by one. Jennifer could feel the heat from his hands searing her skin. Tiny blooms of heat in every brush of his fingertips that spread like ripples on the water. The covers moved slightly and he glanced down to see Freeway squirming out from the blankets beside her.

"Freeway, out. Scat now." He shooed the little dog off the bed and put him out. "Go find Max now, run along." His tone was loving but firm. He sounded like he was speaking to a naughty child and Freeway obeyed much like a child who knows there is no point in protesting any further.

"Now, where were we?" He asked as soon as he returned to the big bed. "Oh yes, I remember. I believe I was right about here." His hands returned to the last couple of knots that held the fabric closed against her skin. "I love this negligee, Darling but it hides something I desperately need to get to." Her laughter was sweet and musical as he finally opened the last frog and the nightgown fell open. "Your neck." He added with a grin, kissing the hollow spot he revealed.

"Darling, you're like a vampire. I should call you Count Dracula the way you are always biting my neck."

"You love it. It's no use denying it now. It's far too late for that." He wasn't wrong. His lips on her throat never failed to excite her. "I'm trying to make up for all the years I should have been kissing you but I just hadn't met you yet."

"I just want to feel your touch, your love. In your arms I am home." Jennifer wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him right up against her body. After his slow seduction in the hot tub, she was ready for him. She didn't want to wait any longer to have him inside her and she wrapped her long legs around his thighs to urge him forward.

"I want to be as close to you as I can be. It's not just the way you touch me, I love the way you say my name, the way you make me believe in forevers. I never wanted to be helpless until you. Every day I willingly hand you the ability to destroy me and every day you show me why I am right to trust you. My life has changed for the better because I love you" Jennifer spoke simply but her words were all the more eloquent for her quiet delivery.

"You have quite the way with beautiful words as well, Mrs. Hart. Being with you is special because I don't have to censor myself. I can say all of the ridiculously over the top things in my heart and know you won't think less of me."

"We really are completely over the top, aren't we? But I wouldn't want it any other way"

"We are. I love these times with you, when the whole world just fades away and all my walls come down. You speak directly to my heart." He kissed her again, long and slow and he was rewarded when he felt her tongue probing delicately, reaching out to sweep across his lower lip. He could taste the rich wine they had shared in the spa as well as a hint of her peppermint toothpaste. The setting sun cast red lines in the quiet room as their shadows merged into one.

They moved together again like thousands of times before. Jennifer loved the way his five o'clock shadow rasped across her skin. Jonathan loved the sound of his name, spoken like a prayer, on her lips. And the way her kisses tasted like sunshine.

"E poi, poi ci son io che in te vorrei semplicemente." Jonathan loved the way her voice sounded, low and sexy when she spoke love words in Italian. Or French, or Spanish, or any of the half-dozen languages she spoke. He waited now, knowing she would translate for him. "And then, then there is me who would simply lose myself in you."

"Sometimes I look at you and wonder how I got to be so damn lucky." He told her. His hands were everywhere on her body, moving over her breasts, through her hair, stroking her arms. His weight on her as familiar to her as her own skin. She tugged lightly on his chest hair, fastening her lips around each of his nipples in turn, making him cry out her name as he spilled himself inside her.

The late sun painted her body in wide strokes of red and dark shadowed places. Now it was his mouth that hovered over her breast and she arched her back up to him but he remained frustratingly out of reach.

"Don't tease me, Jonathan, I need you."

"Tell me." He demanded, his breath a torment on her skin, and a rush of heat flooding her body.

"Kiss me." She pleaded. "Touch me, make my world go black." His hand drifted lower, finding the secret heart of her and stroking softly. He kissed her hard cinnamon-colored nipples, first one then the other, until her breath grew harsh and ragged.

"Not yet." He whispered against her ear. Her body was primed and ready for him and it took only a slight shift to slip inside her again. Her heat was overwhelming as she trembled beneath him and he held himself up with one arm, keeping the other seated firmly between them, pressing against her in time with his movement inside her.

"Not yet," he whispered again. Her body shook with need and he could see that she was nearly at the end of her control. He withdrew almost all the way from her. "Now." He growled in her ear, driving deeply into her and quickly lowering his head to feast again on her swollen nipples. Her screams echoed in the room and a small covey of songbirds in the garden took flight. As her body convulsed she gripped him tightly and he poured himself into her for a second time.

He held her close as her quakes gradually subsided and her racing heart calmed. Thick tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she breathed great gulping sobs in his arms. Her head was thrown back, his arm holding her close, comforting and soothing her as only he could. He kissed her gently. It was perfect, delightful, as she tangled her tongue with his. It was so soft and gentle and he calmed her soul as he quieted her body. Tenderly, with the softest of touches.

"I love you, Darling."

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