#i love mel okay? in this house we cherish her

[mithrava]

Back during Arcane season 1 I told my brother: I'm shipping jayvik so hard, looking at them floating and laughing, the play of changing the scenes of Vik caughing his lungs out while Jayce is with Mel was pure poetry My brother: You are delirious

~Fast foward to 2024~ My brother after finishing season 2: They are in love, you were right, I'm sorry

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eleven: Water Under the Bridge (Finale)

a/n: welcome back my loves <3 It’s so weird to think that this is the final chapter of YBMH and I’m definitely having a lot of feelings about it (denial, mostly). I want to say a huge thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters that I love so much. I’ve had the most fun over the past few months talking to some of you and hearing your thoughts; I cherish it more than you’ll ever know. With all of that said, I’m going to miss this era so so much but I would still love to hear from you lovelies, so please feel free to drop by my inbox and let me know what you thought of this series!! Feedback, criticism, all of it is welcome :) Much love, Mel <3

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

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word Count: 6.7k

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

January, 2018

A strand of hair tickles Harry’s nose and his eyes flutter open. The faint sound of car horns and traffic outside reminds him of his location when his memory fails. He gently slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to the window, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly next to him. A thick layer of snow blankets every building and surface in New York City as far as the eye can see, and the grey sky above signals another storm on its way. 

I’m going to die of hypothermia, Alani shivers, nursing her steaming cup of tea as she walks away from the office window and takes a seat behind her desk. Even after living in the city for a year, she still hadn’t adjusted to the cold weather and feared that she never would. Her boyfriend had joked on numerous occasions that you can take the girl out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the girl. 

“Vanessa’s on line three,” her assistant calls from the doorway. 

“Thanks,” Alani nods before bringing the phone to her ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was brilliant,” the editor admits. “Insightful, witty. I think they’ll love it,”

Alani smiles and spins in her seat to face the window again. “St. James has been on my ass about this piece for weeks. I hope it’ll shut him up,”

“It will, trust me. Hey, I gotta go, but I sent the revision notes and we can discuss more later,”

“Great, thank you so much. See you at dinner,”

“Ta-ta.”

Alani reaches for a pen and scribbles a reminder onto a pink post-it note nearby. 

Bloody five-star hotel, you’d think they could afford decent pens.  Harry grumbles to himself, shaking the ballpoint to no avail. 

“Where are you going?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns to the brunette stretching out her tired limbs. He has to clear his throat to keep from saying the wrong name. 

“Just a quick walk,” he explains with a tight lipped smile. “Go back to bed.” 

She flashes a wide grin and snuggles back into the covers, but he secretly hopes that she’s gone by the time he returns. 

The snow crunches under Harry’s feet and he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He had never been very fond of the cold, but he did have to admit that Central Park looked unbelievably beautiful in the winter. His phone buzzes inside his pocket and he digs it out to read the message. 

Mitch: Me and Sarah are going to Bisous in ten. Meet us?

Harry: See you there. 

********

“French is such a pretentious language,” Maleah scoffs, taking a bite of her pastry. “But I’ll be damned if I have to give up my chocolate croissants,”

Alani chuckles lightly and traces the restaurant’s logo of a red kiss printed on her napkin. Going to Bisous at least once a day had become a tradition during her best friend’s visits. 

“I’ll have to smuggle a real one back for you and then you can tell me if this one’s the real deal,”

“When are you going, again?”

“Next month,”  

Maleah wiggles her brows. “Oooh, Valentine’s Day? Are you taking Mason with you?”

“No,” Alani says casually. “It’s for work,”

“Well, who says you can’t mix business and pleasure?”

“Literally everyone.”

“Okay,” Maleah sighs, patting her full stomach. “Let’s go now before I get sleepy.”

The two friends make their way out of the busy restaurant and Alani’s shoulder brushes someone next to her. 

“Sorry.” she apologizes, making brief eye contact with the other person before doing a double take. 

Mitch purses his lips and turns his head back to the other girl at his arm while Maleah drags Alani out the door. 

********

“I mean, what the hell was that? I could barely keep my drum kit together,” Sarah laughs gently, sipping her coffee. 

“Cause of death: rocking too fucking hard,” Mitch shrugs. “There are worse ways to die,”

Harry stirs his black coffee with a spoon and watches the mini whirlpool grow. “Rob said you could feel it in the balcony, too,”

“I’m surprised you didn’t die,” Mitch pokes. “Mr. defective lungs,”

“Heyyy, I can’t help the asthma thing, alright?”

“Well it’s the last night,” Sarah chimes in. “Are we gonna try to beat the Kiwi record and go for four times in a row?”

Harry shrugs, a soft grin on his lips. “Dunno. Maybe if it feels right,”

“I say we cut out the middleman and just bulldoze MSG ourselves. What difference does it make if the fans tear the house down or if we do?” Mitch suggests. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry nods. “I’m sure Irving would love that.”

“Some food for thought.”

The trio finish their breakfasts and excitedly continue their conversations about the impending show, but the entire time, Mitch is haunted by the knowledge of Alani’s presence in the city. He debates telling Harry, but is suddenly reminded of the intense aftermath of the pair’s falling out. 

********

“Where’s Alani?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that name to me ever again.” 

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

And with a simple question, anger had subsided into grief. Mitch still didn’t  know all of the details surrounding their split, but he had pieced together sufficient bits from Jeff and, in part, from the lyrics Harry penned in the following weeks. The slump had lasted through the fall and winter of that year, but as spring rolled around and the album’s release drew closer, Harry pulled himself together enough to promote and tour. It felt good to be on the road, and he found himself revitalized by the energy of those who came to support. Tour itself had been relatively intimate, as he had actively decided to play smaller venues than the sold out stadiums he was accustomed to, but the enthusiasm of the crowds hadn’t changed from his band days. As Harry occupied his attention with music, Hawaii grew smaller and smaller in the back of his mind. Eventually, it dwindled into a dull ache at the center of his chest, felt only on particularly long nights coaxed with a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. For now, he tried to focus on his last show at Madison Square Garden. 

********

Alani’s stomach turns. Had she really seen Mitch or had it been a remarkable doppelgänger? She hoped it was the latter, knowing that if he really was in New York City, Harry wasn’t far behind. This was by no means the first time she had been reminded of her summer love turned sour, but it stung just as much every time. The first incident was last April when she turned on the T.V. only to find Harry performing one of his new songs on Saturday Night Live. It had resulted in the loss of her favorite mug as it shattered against the hardwood floor in her apartment. Since that day, Alani had seen his face on countless billboards in Times Square and habitually asked taxi drivers to change the radio station or turn it off entirely. After a while, she had gotten better at dealing with the sinking feeling whenever he was mentioned, it was easier to detach feelings for someone who lived on a screen. Running into Mitch, however, had blasted a hole straight through the fourth wall that Alani had erected,  and she knew that there was absolutely no way she could cope with a similar encounter from Harry. 

“Oh shit,” Maleah gasps softly, looking through the windshield at the hundreds of people lined up on the pavement outside of Madison Square Garden. 

“What?” Alani asks, head still spinning. 

Her best friend immediately turns to her with a nervous smile and shrugs. “Oh it’s nothing. Hey do I have something in my teeth?”

Alani glances out the window behind Maleah and her eyes bulge. “Woah, what’s happening there?”

“Oh it’s probably, like, Lady Gaga or something. Anyways, look at this random text I got the other day.”

But it wasn’t “Lady Gaga or something.” The marquee reads “Harry Styles—SOLD OUT” in bold lettering. Alani retches into her bag. 

********

“Oh, for fucks saaake!” Harry shouts playfully, the sound of his obscenities echoing throughout the large venue. 

Mitch and Adam chuckle beside him and continue setting up their equipment while Sarah offers a comedic “badum-tss” on her drum set. 

“Okay then at that point, stage lights will come down and it’s ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’,” the technical director speaks into his earpiece.

Harry nods and watches the screen behind him roll through the animation that will play during the song. 

“Alright, then it’s—”

“Wait,” Harry interjects over the mic. “Sorry, can we run it?”

“Run ‘Meet Me’?”

“Yeah,”

Mitch tenses listening to the conversation that filters through his own inner ear piece, but he continues fiddling with the strings of his guitar.  

“Running ‘Meet Me’,” the director affirms. “Sarah, stand by.”

Harry’s eyes dart over to Mitch and he nods as a sign to begin. The guitarist clears his throat and strums the opening chords. 

Meet me in the hallway 

“M’gonna go wait in the hall…”

Meet me in the hallway 

“Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

I just left your bedroom 

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Give me some morphine 

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

Is there any more to do?

“Please don’t go.”

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Maleah offers. “I can catch a return flight tomorrow,”

Alani sits up in her bed and shakes her head. “No, Mi, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something,”

Maleah gives her friend a tight squeeze and pulls away to read her face. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll come right back,”

“Thank you,” Alani says, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry to put a damper on your last day.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to worry about. Feel better soon, Nani.”

The door closes softly and Alani burrows deeper into the covers. She tries to bury the emotion back under a lock and key, but a gentle sob fights its way up her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she cries, but maybe it was. Just as the sun rises and sets, so had Harry entered and exited her life, and maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. After all, Alani had gotten exactly what she wanted, hadn’t she? So why does it still hurt? 

The snow falls gently outside of her window, but the entire scene blurs into shades of white and grey behind her tears. It had snowed just like this on the day she moved to the city. Shortly after the article about Harry had been published by a small gossip site, Alani had contacted the publishers and threatened litigation if they didn’t take it down. Unsurprisingly, they had also been contacted by Columbia Records and thus, the piece was removed that same day. Despite the quick turnaround, Rolling Stone had caught wind of the storm brewing on social media and reached out to Alani a few days later. They had been impressed that the elusive Harry Styles granted her an interview, but they didn’t push the matter much further. Instead, they had offered her one piece of her choosing to prove herself. If the reviews were favorable, she would be given a regular contributor spot, unpaid of course. They would re-evaluate at the beginning of the new quarter and negotiate from there. When January of 2017 rolled around, Alani’s writing was making surprising waves in the Rolling Stone community, so she had been hired on as a junior writer and assistant to the Editor in Chief. The pay wasn’t great, but it was a leap in the right direction. 

Despite everything that had changed in a year, a string of random letters on a building that Alani passed a million times had brought her emotions right back to the day she had tried so hard to forget. Her phone buzzes under the covers and she reaches out a hand to locate it. Her editor’s name appears and she answers it quickly. 

“Hello?”

“Darling, hello! Where are you?”

“Oh my god,” Alani groans. “Vanessa I’m so sorry,”

“Is everything okay?”

Alani sits up and clears her throat. “I have food poisoning,”

“Christ, from where?”

“Bisous,”

Vanessa sighs. “Poor thing. Okay, no worries we’ll just reschedule,”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you,”

“No need to be sorry, get some rest and we’ll catch up later!”

The call ends and Alani gawks at the time. 7:30 already?  She slumps back under the covers and sifts through her social media, wincing when she sees several of her friends posting about the line outside of Madison Square Garden. No, Alani decides sternly when the sudden urge to go stirs in the pit of her stomach, absolutely no fucking way. 

********

“10 minutes!”

Harry scans the crowd from the monitor backstage. He pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb as the nerves settle in. 

“The house is packed,” Jeff comments with a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “And there’s still a crowd outside,”

“We did it?”

“You did it,”

So why does it still hurt? 

“Thanks for everything,” Harry says, bringing his manager in for a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jeff pats Harry on the back. “All in a day’s work for the dream team.”

Before heading out, Harry stops one of the crew members and asks if any of the guests on his list have arrived yet. Names are read off, friends from different inner circles over the years, but there’s one name in particular that isn’t called. He offers a thumbs up and a forced grin before making his way to the stage.

It always surprises the technical crew at every venue that Harry has specific lighting requests for the house. Performers had their individual preferences, this wasn’t unusual, but no one made a bigger deal about being able to see the crowd like Harry did. He enjoyed being able to see each person and connect with them, especially when performing an album that was as personal as this one. But in every sea he searched, one face was always missing. Tonight’s audience, much to his disappointment, was no different. 

The crowd cheers as “Sweet Creature” fades out and the lights on stage dim. More than half of the show has already gone by and they’ve reached the point that is always a little harder to get through. Harry takes a swig from his water bottle and clears his throat to fight the lump that forms. He breathes in deeply and “Meet Me in the Hallway” begins, but no matter how hard he tries to focus on the technical aspects of his performance, it’s nearly impossible not to get dragged back into the moment when the song was written. 

“I should go back,” 

“H, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I have to go back.” 

And so he had. After two hours of pacing the airport lounge, Harry had jumped into an Uber and sped back to the hotel. It had taken another agonizing twenty minutes to explain his situation to the front desk workers and retrieve his old room key, but it was no use. He was too late. The bed was still unmade, but there was no sign of Alani save for the faint scent of Baby Honey and a gold necklace tucked away between the sheets. 

The flight back to the mainland had already departed by the time Harry stumbled through the hotel lobby, and there wouldn’t be another one for three more hours. In the meantime, he decided to get some fresh air and clear his mind, hoping all the while that he would find Alani at the edge of the beach waiting to run back into his arms. She never did, and he was left with all the words he wished he had said. 

I walked the streets all day 

Running with the thieves 

‘Cause you left me in the hallway 

Just take my pain away 

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Great show,” praises Rob Sheffield, author of one of Harry’s favorite books, Love is a Mix Tape. “Drummer’s incredible,”

Sarah beams and Harry flashes her a grin. “Thanks. It’s Sarah’s band, really. I’m just the frontman,”

“Well she kicked ass. All of you did, and I can tell by the way the floor was shaking that I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Thank you so much, that means a lot.”

More guests filter in and congratulate Harry and the rest of the band, but while he sincerely appreciates all of the love, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the door every once in a while in the hope that someone else will straggle in. He slowly loses that hope when the room empties and the night drags on. 

********

This isn’t ethical, Alani chastises herself, this is wrong on every level and you’re gonna pay. She runs her fingers over the Rolling Stone press badge in her hand and stares at the marquee towering over her. What the fuck are you doing? 

“Excuse me!” Alani calls when she sees an employee slip through a side door. “Hi, I know I’m really late but I’m actually here with Rolling Stone,”

The blonde-haired woman blinks and scans over the badge with an unamused look on her face. 

“Nice try,”

“No, wait,” Alani begs. “I have to get in there, please—”

“You and every other girl within a twenty-five mile radius.”

Alani takes a deep breath and re-groups. “You don’t understand. I really need to get back there, I’m working on an important piece,”

As the struggle continues, another woman in stiletto heels exits through the side door with a clipboard in tow. 

“My name is Alani Hale, see? Please just—”

“Wait,” the woman with the clipboard intervenes. The name sounded strangely familiar, probably from the blacklist, in which case security would need to be notified. “What did you say your name was?”

Alani holds her badge out and swallows hard. “Alani Hale, junior writer for Rolling Stone.”

The woman checks through the blacklist but the name isn’t registered. She does a cursory glance over the V.I.P section and her finger lands on a note that reads “Mahealani ‘Alani’ Hale—Code Carolina: escort backstage and inform Mr. Styles immediately.”

“Follow me, please,”

Alani trails behind, doing her best to keep up with the long strides of the woman with the clipboard.

 “Marta to security, I have a Code Carolina,” she murmurs into her ear piece. “Repeat, I have a Code Carolina.”

Alani’s heart races as they zig-zag through the arena. Did Harry know that she was coming? Had Mitch told him that they saw each other at Bisous? The answer was no, Mitch hadn’t told and Harry didn’t know. He had only hoped. Unbeknownst to Alani, her name was printed on the Madison Square Garden list and on every list of every show in all the countries scheduled. Through Paris and all through Rome, Harry had looked for her face in the crowd and he dreamed that one day his efforts wouldn’t be in vain. 

“Wait here,” Marta instructs, leading Alani to a back room with mirrors, a couple of couches, and a clothing rack. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Before she can ask any questions, Marta is gone and the sound of her heels echo down the hall. Alani takes a deep breath and her lungs are immediately filled with the familiar scent of vanilla. Her eyes carefully rake over the scene and land on a familiar white shirt hanging on the rack and the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey.”

“Thief,”

“I meant to return it.”

Alani spins on her heel and Harry stands with his fists shoved deep inside the pockets of his flared pants, eyes cast down at the floor. She tugs on the sleeves of her coat and offers a shy smile. 

“It’s okay, looked better on you anyway.”

A brief silence follows and they size each other up like it’s a gunfight, each waiting to see who will draw first. His hair is longer and curlier, Alani notices, chest and shoulders broader, too. But there’s a familiarity in his creased brow and in the heart shaped curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry does his own inventory; dark, almond shaped eyes, check. Round face, cinnamon skin, check and check. Her long, wavy locks are now shoulder length, but he’d recognize the scent of Baby Honey anywhere. The two are absorbed in their own silent assessments for a moment longer, but Alani quickly gets the urge to flee after she counts too many similarities between this Harry and the one that left her with a broken heart. 

“I should go,” she croaks, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Harry asks earnestly. 

Alani tugs at a loose thread on her sleeve before crossing her arms. “Saw your name outside and got curious. For a while there, I started to think that maybe I imagined you,”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had haunted her as much as she had plagued him. He had spent so long believing that he meant nothing to her, but nevertheless, a part of him left room for her return. 

“You did, this is a hologram projection,”

Alani smiles and her shoulders relax at his humor. It really was him. 

“Did you enjoy—”

“I didn’t see the show—” they speak at the same time, eager words overlapping. 

“Oh,” Harry laughs softly. “You didn’t miss much,”

Alani shakes her head and takes a single step forward. “No, that’s not true. I’m sure it was amazing,”

Harry offers a coy grin, the shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. One hand emerges from his pocket and his knuckle brushes against the tip of his nose. Alani catches sight of the silver rose on his finger and she still remembers how it feels under the pad of her thumb. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pulling her from her reverie. 

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Alani blinks, her throat suddenly dry. “Oh. Well I don’t know, I don’t wanna interrupt—”

“Never an interruption,” Harry assures her. 

She nods and he takes a step back. 

“M’gonna go change,” he explains. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“What, you don’t wear custom Marc Jacobs suits to dinner?” She teases. 

He grins, amused, and continues backing away towards the door before correcting her. “It’s Gucci.”

Alani rolls her eyes and he disappears into the hallway. 

When Harry reemerges in a beanie, puffy coat, and light wash denim jeans, he leads them through a series of tunnels and exits. 

“Where are we going?” Alani asks, bracing herself for the snow outside. 

“It’s a surprise.” he offers and she doesn’t fight him on it.

********

“We’re not eating here?” 

A soft smile falls on Harry’s lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her incessant questioning. 

“No,”  he replies, opening the passenger door with one hand and passing her the bag that contains their dinner. “Too crowded,”

“Oh,” 

It made sense that Harry would want to keep a low profile and avoid any possible paparazzi sightings of the two of them, but it still felt strange to worry about such things after they had lived so carefree in Hawai’i. But that was then, and this was now, things had inevitably changed. 

“D’you wanna play some music?” Harry asks, settling behind the wheel. The parallels between this moment and their first excursion together make her chest tighten. 

“How about,” Alani starts. “Your album? Since I didn’t get to hear it live,”

Harry’s breathing hitches. “Well, I dunno—”

“Please?”

He meets her pleading eyes momentarily and, against his better judgment, agrees. 

“What’s it called?” she questions. 

“It’s just my name,”

“Self-titled, very classy. I like it,”

“I thought about calling it Sign of the Times,” Harry reveals. “But it’s already been done before,”

Alani hums. “Prince,”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But then I also thought about going with ‘Pink,’ because, you know, when in doubt—”

“Go with the pink one,” they say in unison and Alani smiles softly. How had he remembered that?

“And it’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” she continues. 

Harry beams. “Exactly. But then Jeff suggested that we just go with the name. Simple, but effective,”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got the background,” Alani pokes. “And you’ve sufficiently distracted me, can I listen now?”

He swallows and checks the GPS, still twenty-five minutes to go. 

“How about we hold off,” he suggests. “Just for now so we can listen to the full thing and really soak it in?”

Alani backs off. “Alright, deal.”

She presses shuffle on the playlist of her frequently played songs for the month and immediately regrets doing so. Clearing her throat, she goes to press skip but Harry stops her. 

“S’a good one.” he says gently, so Alani lets Adele fill the awkward space. 

If you’re gonna let me down 

Let me down gently don’t pretend 

That you don’t want me 

Our love ain’t water under the bridge

********

Harry opens the passenger door and Alani steps out, her eyes squinting to make out any recognizable landmarks in their surroundings. They remain a comfortable two feet apart and make their way to the entrance of what appears to be some sort of greenhouse. Alani is filled with more confusion, but she doesn’t ask further questions until they reach the white double doors. 

“What?” Harry questions. “Never been to the New York Botanical Garden?”

Alani’s eyes widen. “The—wait, you—we’re?”

“After you,” he chuckles lightly, opening the doors. 

“Are we even allowed? I mean is it open?”

“I pulled some strings,”

She enters cautiously, immediately met with an archway of blush colored flowers and string lights that takes her breath away. A long, narrow pond in the center reflects the image back and creates a kaleidoscope of pink, green, and golden hues. 

“How did you,” Alani begins, at a complete loss for words. “Who are you?”

Harry nods in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “There’s a ballroom set up for a wedding tomorrow night, but Jim said we could crash as long as we clean up after ourselves,”

“Jim?”

“The director.”

“Of course.” 

Sure enough, round tables with cream colored tablecloth and elaborate floral centerpieces are arranged around the room. A delicate, yet undoubtedly expensive, chandelier twinkles in the center of the room and casts such a warm glow that Alani momentarily forgets about the snow outside. 

“Dig in,” Harry instructs, setting the pasta on the table in front of them. 

Alani sits and gently sheds her winter coat as he does the same. Underneath his jacket, Harry wears a yellow shirt that catches her eye with the words “treat people with kindness” printed in black lettering. She freezes when she spots a gold chain with a sun and moon pendant nestled comfortably between above the words.

“How is everyone?” Alani questions politely to shift her attention. “Mitch, Tom, Jeff,”

“They’re good, yeah,” he nods. “How’re Freddie and your family?”

“They’re fine, and he’s living his blissful little life,”

“Good for him. Miss his cuddles,”

And yours, Harry thinks, but he pulls back. Alani offers a shy laugh and thinks about the elephant in the room yet to be addressed: the break-up. It’s worth discussing, but she sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to bring it up. 

“And how’ve you been?” Harry asks when the silence stretches out for too long. 

Alani chews and ponders the question. “Good. Been working a lot,”

“Where at?”

“Rolling Stone,”

“Really?” he beams. “That’s incredible, congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she replies graciously. 

Harry’s chin rests in his palm and he twirls a noodle around his fork. “So you live here?”

“Yeah, in the Village,”

“Wow. Greenwich Village, a real city-slicker now. Traded Stevie in for the Holland Tunnel?”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Alani’s lips at the memory of her beloved Bronco. “Sadly, yes. And you?”

“Malibu,” Harry divulges. “I hate the cold.”

“It’s not so bad. You can always cuddle up with the giant rats,” she jokes, which makes his nose scrunch.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” 

“Speaking of pretend,” Alani wiggles her brows. “You were in a movie after all,” 

“I was,” 

“I didn’t watch it, sorry,” 

Harry feigns offense and Alani quickly back pedals. “I don’t like war movies!”

“And you hated my guts.” he teases, though it pains him that there might be some truth to his words. 

Alani shakes her head and fights the urge to reach across the table for his hand. “No, not really. It was kind of the opposite, actually.” 

Harry’s eye wanders to the outside of Alani’s wrist and a faint smile creeps across his face when he spots the black outline of a crescent moon. He wonders if there are any new inked designs that he isn’t aware of. Despite all the time that has elapsed, there is a familiarity in her presence that he hadn’t felt even in the comforts of his California residence. It was like kicking off your shoes in the doorway after a long trip. It was like coming home. 

They finish their meal and continue their light-hearted banter into the night. Harry tells his favorite stories from tour and Alani wishes more than anything that she could have been there. She details the events of her own busy life in New York and the highlights of working for Rolling Stone, one of which being the time that she got to meet Stevie Nicks in the flesh. 

“Did you tell her about your car?” Harry presses enthusiastically. 

“No way,” Alani chuckles, draining the last of her drink. “I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself in front of the Supreme,” 

“I think she would’ve found it flattering,” 

“Naming your child after someone is flattering, not a car,” 

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s cute,” 

“Yeah well,” Alani sighs. “You’re not like most people,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She mulls it over, studying the familiar sea glass irises that she never thought she’d see again. What had Alani meant by that statement? Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could put it into words, nor had she meant to say them in the first place. But something about Harry always made her feel brave, like she could speak her mind uncensored and he would understand without even trying. 

“I just meant that you’re, you know,” she starts. “Not judgemental. Like, I could tell you that I think I’m part alien and you’d probably try to help me find my home planet,” 

Harry laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the table, an unspoken challenge for Alani to continue her thoughts. 

“You make people feel seen and heard,” she says finally with a wistful look in her eye. “I mean, why do you think all those people lined up to see you tonight?” 

The last part of her statement is a deflection from what she really wants to say, which is that Harry makes her feel seen and heard. Despite all the time and space between them, it was still true and it terrified her. There was only so much bravery that Harry’s presence could evoke. The mood shifts suddenly when Alani’s phone buzzes and the name “Mason” with a pink heart emoji lights up the screen next to her glass of water. Harry hadn’t meant to look and he deeply regrets that he did. 

“You have a boyfriend,” he comments dejectedly, and though he hadn’t meant it to be accusatory, all words carry the sting of judgment when falling on guilty ears. 

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve stayed celibate this entire time,” Alani bites back. 

Harry’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she apologizes, standing with her coat. 

“Wait,” he jumps up. “What just happened?”

“I have to go—”

“Just stop for a minute, please,”

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry slowly. His jaw is tight and the crease between his eyebrows is deeper than she remembers. 

“I’m sorry,” she begins carefully. “Thank you for tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here—”

Harry’s eyes clamp shut and he runs a frustrated hand through his messy curls.  

“Can you stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by leaving and just talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Alani pushes back. “‘I’m sorry that I saw your name in flashing lights and I got caught trying to spy on you’?”

“Alani—”

“‘I’m sorry that I tried to move on’?”

“Stop apologizing—”

“I’m sorry that I fell in love and fucked it all up because I was afraid and I’m sorry that I betrayed the one person who meant everything to me,”

Silence falls between them and the only sound is the sniffling of Alani’s nose as she tries, and fails, to hold back the emotions that pour over. 

“That’s why I went,” she continues, voice wavering. “Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stay away. Every single day, I’m reminded of how royally I screwed everything up and it tears me apart, so I went to try to make things right and take some of that pain away. Even though I hurt you and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that,”

Harry swallows hard and his eyes sting, but Alani speaks up again before he can respond. 

“So please,” she begs. “Please, just let me finally do something right by you and let me go,”

He takes a cautious step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t want to,”

They both hold their breaths, anticipating the other person’s next draw. 

“And maybe that makes me selfish too,” Harry adds. “‘Cause I went back that day, back to the hotel,”

Alani blinks. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because I wasn’t mad that you published the article, I was scared that it was the only reason you were with me—”

“Harry—”

“But then I realized that I didn’t care,” he laughs dryly. “Because I still loved you, and I figured that having you— having just a little bit of your heart and your attention—was worth it, even if you didn’t really love me back,”

He takes another step forward and the toes of their shoes nearly touch. “And maybe I’m being selfish now by asking you to stay, but you’re not the only one trying to get rid of the pain,”

Alani takes a shallow breath and studies the eagerness in his eyes. The sight makes her chest pound. 

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt,” she whispers. “But I meant every word I said, you were everything to me. You were the sun that my life revolved around and I was terrified of losing you because the truth is that I hate the cold, too,”

Harry gently reaches a hand up to her cheek and Alani leans into the warmth of his touch. 

“Can I show you something?”

You and your goddamn surprises. “Yes.”

He leads them down several winding hallways before flicking a light on in the gallery. Alani’s heart stops when she sees it. 

“Not quite as impressive as the real thing,” Harry offers. “But Ms. O’Keeffe did a pretty damn good job,”

An original Georgia O’Keeffe painting of a waterfall, their waterfall, the one that Alani had mentioned all that time ago, is displayed proudly on the wall before them. A replica had hung above the bed they shared on many nights and all at once a faint memory resurfaces. 

“Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,” 

 “M’gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alani takes a step closer to the artwork and examines the details of the oil on canvas. A few steps behind, Harry is only concerned with her reaction and pays little attention to the piece of art on display. As far as he was concerned, Alani was the only one worth admiring. 

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked why you went to the falls to write?” Alani asks. 

Of course Harry had, but he remains silent to let her continue. 

“You said that you liked going there,” she adds, deliberate. “Because it made you forget about every bad thing that ever happened to you, because none of it was real in comparison to the feeling of standing in front of that waterfall,”

Harry nods gently, but he still doesn’t speak. 

“Do you know what that feeling is called?”

“No,”

“It’s called home,” Alani says softly, turning to face him. “It’s what I felt, what I feel, when I’m with you,”

His breath hitches and he stands frozen as she carefully walks toward him.

“And while we’re making wishes come true,” she smiles delicately. “I never told you what I wished for the day we saw that rainbow,”

“What did you wish for?” Harry searches. 

Alani’s eyes fall to his parted lips. “That you would kiss me.”

His mouth curls at the edges and he releases a long breath. “Think maybe I can deliver on that one, too.”

Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and Alani closes the gap. They had been standing mere inches apart, but the meeting of their lips bridges an entire chasm. Over and over again, like waves against the shore, their mouths collide desperately as they pull each other closer with no intentions of ever letting go. 

********

February 14, 2018

“Comment est le temps?” 

Alani peers up at Harry and shields her eyes from the sun behind his back. “What does that mean?”

He grins softly and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat on the balcony next to her. 

“Means ‘how’s the weather?’,” 

“Oh,” she leans over, lips puckered for a kiss. “Full of perfectly Parisian sunshine,”

“Try sayin’ that ten times fast,”

Alani swipes his pink, heart shaped sunglasses and slips them onto the bridge of her nose with a contented sigh. Ahead, the Eiffel tower stands proudly in the distance and the lenses of her glasses tint the entire scene in a picturesque rosy glow. 

“La Ville de L’amour,” she hums. “Did I say that right?”

“Oui,”

“Hey, you know what I saw on the room service menu?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, what?”

“Piña coladas,” Alani wiggles her brows. “Think they deliver at midnight?”

He chuckles lightly and his hand takes purchase on her knee. “They better,”

“Never had a Parisian piña colada. Sounds romantic, though.”

“Sure does, sweets.”

Alani stands and reaches for Harry’s hand. He accepts and rises to his feet, pulling her close. Below, the sounds of the city serenade them as they gently sway in the chilly breeze. When Harry feels Alani shiver, he hugs  her to his chest and rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head. She feels his steady heartbeat against her cheek and smiles softly, fingertips smoothing up and down his back. 

“Are you ready for Valentine’s Day surprise number one?” he asks, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes. 

She narrows her eyes. “Where are we going?”

Harry pulls back with a mischievous smile, hands still attached to hers, and leads them back inside.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alani giggles but she doesn’t push. Instead, she happily follows him out of their room, down the hall, and into the bustling streets of Paris. 

We don’t know where we’re going 

But we know where we belong 

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

[writethehousedown]

Best Summer Yet (Crystal x Gigi) - Mel

Summary: Day 1: Bathing Suit - Crystal buys a new bathing suit and she can’t wait until Gigi sees it.

Crystal loves summer. It’s her favorite season. She loves the sun and the heat and the freedom of having a couple months off school. And she loves hanging out with her best friend Gigi. Especially since her family put in an inground pool in their backyard. Crystal is over there more often than not, and today is no exception.

Gigi’s parents are going out of town for the weekend so Crystal is staying with her to keep her company. She hopes they’ll spend the whole weekend by the pool.

“Gi-Gi-Gi-Gi-Gigi Goode!” Crystal yells out as she lets herself into Gigi’s house.

“Crystal Methyd!” Gigi screams back, coming down the stairs, and they break out into a fit of giggles.

It’s been their typical way of greeting each other since they were in middle school and it never fails to put a smile on Crystal’s face. Gigi in general never fails to put a smile on her face, and Crystal loves her for it. She used to love her like a friend, but at some point during junior year without fully realizing it, Crystal started loving her in a different way. A way that involves wanting to kiss her, among other things. But Crystal hasn’t had the guts to tell her that.

So they’re best friends, and Crystal’s okay with that. She really is. It’s perfectly fine.

“Are we going swimming?” Crystal asks once Gigi is in front of her.

“I swear you only use me for my pool.” Gigi laughs and rolls her eyes, but starts walking with Crystal toward the backyard.

“That’s not true!” Crystal protests. “I also like the hot tub,” she jokes and starts running away, cackling, before Gigi can catch her.

They eventually change into their bathing suits, and Crystal is excited to see Gigi’s reaction to the new one she just bought.

When they get out to the pool, Gigi’s wearing a tiny light blue bikini that leaves very little to the imagination, and Crystal has to work really hard not to stare. Crystal’s wearing a one piece that looks like a hairy man’s chest. The moment she saw it in the store she knew she had to have it.

“Why are you wearing that?” Gigi asks disgustedly, just as Crystal had imagined she would.

“Because it’s funny!” Crystal laughs brightly, twirling around to show off its full effect.

“It’s gross.”

“You’re gross.” She sticks her tongue out at Gigi.

“Seriously. I don’t think I can look at that anymore.” Gigi makes a gagging noise and Crystal erupts in giggles again.

“Fine. I’ll take it off then.”

“Crystal! What are you doing?” Gigi shrieks as Crystal starts stripping out of her bathing suit.

“Now you won’t have to look at it anymore.” She stands there, naked and defiant with her hands on her hips, before doing a cannonball into the pool.

“Oh, we’re skinny dipping? Cool! I’ve always wanted to do this!” Gigi follows suit and strips off her bikini before jumping in with a squeal.

Crystal gets caught up in the moment, feeling adventurous, and swims toward Gigi once she breaks the surface.

“Wanna know something that I’ve always wanted to do?” she asks, treading water close to the other girl.

“What?” Gigi whispers.

“This,” Crystal whispers back before closing the small distance between them to press her lips against Gigi’s.

She pulls back after a moment and looks at Gigi questioningly, hoping that she didn’t just royally screw up the best, most cherished friendship she’s ever had in her life.

“Wanna know something else?” Gigi asks, still speaking softly and quietly.

“What?” Crystal asks nervously.

“I’ve always wanted to do that too,” Gigi admits with a grin.

“Really?” Crystal’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big.

“Really really.” Gigi nods.

And Crystal just has to kiss her again. She has no choice.

They swim around, splashing each other occasionally and stopping every once in a while to steal kisses. Crystal thinks this has a chance to be their best summer yet.

“Do you want to go make out in the hot tub?” Gigi asks later, when they’re tired of swimming.

“Absolutely,” Crystal answers immediately. She knows this will be their best summer yet.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Alexithymia (WITT One-Shot)

A/N: This can be considered as part of the ‘Hidden Moments’ bc is definitely canon :) (in my story lmao) -Danny

Words: 1,180

Request: I actually read WITS on AO3 lol, but happened to find it here too. I was wondering if i could get a sirius x emily fluff. Don't really know what your plans are for them, but I think they could be cute as hell together. // I went with ‘alexithymia (n) the inability to express your feelings’ bc it goes well with Sirius and Emily uwu

Series’ Masterlist

September, 1995

If there was anything Emily despised more than dark, humid places, was silence. 

She could not stand it. As a girl, her house had been full of magical creatures and objects his father would bring from work, every meal was accompanied with long and interesting conversations, and when she started school she was immediately attracted to the fuss James and Sirius used to cause.

Perhaps that was the reason why she'd never reprimanded Mel for being loud and messy as a kid, maybe that was the reason why Mel had never felt the need to be quiet, perhaps the girl could feel too, that her mother needed the noise to keep going.

Maybe that was the reason why Emily and Sirius understood each other so well. Sirius was sick of the silence cause it reminded him of his time in Azkaban, and Emily would only think of the time Matthew, James and Lily had died. Every wizard and witch had gone out and celebrated Voldemort was dead, but to her, those months had been terribly silent and still.

And now, silence proved to be once again the most annoying sensation of all. The kids were back in school, nothing but the sound of the fireplace was heard in the sitting room where Emily was, writing a short letter to her daughter letting her know they were still safe.

A second noise crept in behind her, and although some other person would've certainly shivered and looked around in discomfort, Emily's first reaction was to smile.

"If you're trying to scare me, Sirius, you'll have to wait. I'm writing a letter and if you ruin it I'll hex you."

The man scoffed behind her back. He walked (normally this time) and took the seat next to her, reading over her shoulder.

"You've turned into a boring woman, that's what happened," He sulked. "We used to have great fun scaring each other to death!"

"Yeah, because we were kids," Emily replied calmly. "Now I have things to do, you as well."

"Oh yeah, dusting the bookshelf is such an urgent matter," He mocked.

"Well, it's all we can do right now, so we better start working..."

She tried to stand up, but Sirius was quick to catch her wrist.

"I can think of something else we can do with our spare time," He smirked.

"Sirius..."

"I'm only joking!" He let go of her and fell back on the couch. His expression showing deep and intense boredom. "You know I hate this house, and having to spend my afternoons cleaning it feels like hell."

"Maybe you're paying for all your sins," She joked. "And by that I mean the time you turned my hair a green moldy colour for a whole week."

"In that case, the penitence is worth it," He smiled. "You were as vain as they make 'em, if anything I helped you become a better person! I'm a good friend."

"You're a child, that's what you are," Emily huffed. "And you're one to talk about vanity! Strutting around the school like you were one in a million..."

"I was just trying to get attention, you know that!" He laughed. "I always liked the spotlight, and I can't pretend I don't miss it."

"Well, maybe once this is over you'll be able to go out and charm all the people you please," Emily said. "In the meantime, be of use and help me cook."

"I don't want other people," He said shortly.

"What do you want then?"

Sirius stared at her. He sat there and looked at the woman Emily had become. Same auburn hair, same dark eyes, and his chest tightened with the same force from years back.

There was a time when Sirius had given up completely on her, although Emily and Matthew hadn't been together for long, by the time they left Hogwarts it was clear that they were as close as you can get from having a soulmate. Emily was his friend as well as Matthew, and he wanted them to be happy.

Besides, he was a young man who was barely turning twenty. His school crush would soon be a thing of the past, and perhaps one day he'd meet a new person who would take his breath away and convince him love was real. That day never came, though.

Sirius spent twelve years in prison, he remained the same twenty-year-old, time didn't matter to him, and he would die thinking he was still a young man who'd suffered a great loss.

Then he was free, and the people who had rescued him had been none other but the children of his former friends. Sirius was forced to grow up at once, he had to face a thirty-year-old Remus and Emily, who processed their grief during the decade he'd missed.

When he saw Emily again, it felt as if it had been just a few weeks since the last time he'd visited to watch little Mel stumbling around the living room. Although a new war was keeping them locked and worried, he had a new reason to keep fighting.

What did he want?

He wanted his godson to live a long, decent life. A happy one too. He wanted to be present when Mel finally decided to step into the spotlight, she would change the world, no Dumbledore ever left this earth without being remarkable in one way or another. And, being completely honest, he wanted to spend the rest of his life next to the only woman he'd ever cherished.

Sirius tried to express all this to her. Make her see he was no child, that he was ready to fight and sacrifice and even listen to Dumbledore's stupid indications.

Instead, he just managed to shrug in that careless way of his.

Emily frowned a bit, but she quickly composed and stood up.

"Well, if you decide you want to help, you know where to find me."

Sirius watched her walk out of the room, he heard her go downstairs, doors opened and closed as she drew out the stuff she needed to cook.

Something inside the man snapped. He was tired. Tired of waiting for things to simply fall on his lap like they used to do when he was young, he hated silence, and he was positively sure that the one he hated the most, was his own.

Sirius rushed into the kitchen and stood in the entrance.

"I'm sorry," He said breathlessly. "I've made up my mind."

Emily raised a brow in amusement.

"Okay?"

Sirius walked up to her, stared into her brown eyes, and with all the conviction he could muster, he spoke as clearly as he could.

"I want you, Mily," he cupped her cheeks as gentle and soft as he possibly could. "I'm in love with you."

Emily's face lit up, she smiled at him as if he'd just offered to give her the moon.

"I love you too," She said.

Sirius laughed, and in the middle of it his voice strained, he choked on a sob and got confused for a moment. He was the happiest he'd ever been, why was he crying?

"It's okay," The woman whipped his tears away hurriedly, kissing his cheek. "It's going to be okay."

Sirius nodded, feeling he was finally home.

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world

[bookenders]

11/11/11 Tag Game: 16/17/18?

Back again to spill the tea about myself for all you lovely people.Thanks @cataclysmic-writer, @maybeillwriteit and @aurisadventure for the tags!

My answers are under the cut. 😊

Rules: Answer the 11 questions of the person who tagged you, make up 11 questions, then tag 11 people to answer them. 

Bilbo Taggins: @brittanyisart, @quilloftheclouds, @brittanyisart, @brynwrites, @creatvrae, @elisabethrosewrites, @elizabethsyson, @ren-c-leyn, @yetmorestories, @pinespittinink, @timefire25

My Questions:

What are your thoughts on throw pillows?

Do you have any podcast recommendations? How about TV shows?

What month would you be on a calendar, and what would the picture be?

What is one book that you absolutely love, no matter what anyone else has to say about it? 

What’s your favorite kind of scented candle?

What’s your favorite urban legend?

Would you ever go on an arctic expedition?

What’s the furthest from home you’ve ever been?

What is the best snack?

How purple do you allow your prose to be/get? What’s your purple limit? Is there one?

What’s one word/line/scene/character that you want to put in a story, but you haven’t found the right place for yet?

@cataclysmic-writer‘s questions:

What do you eat or drink while writing? It varies depending on how I’m feelin’. Usually a big giant glass of water. I used to have coffee and/or tea, but it always got cold because I forgot about it. That’s actually how I used to measure my progress, by how cold the drink was.  And coffee got me too jazzed to sit still, so I stopped drinking while writing. Good for academic papers, though.

Best piece of advice you ever received? Like... ever? Okay. People are more interested in themselves/absorbed with themselves to really care what you’re doing. Very empowering for someone with real bad social anxiety (like myself heyooo).

Which book inspired you to write the most? I’ve talked about Laurie Halse Anderson’s Wintergirls before, and I’m gonna mention it again. And that I went to a signing for her new book Shout and I got to thank her and my life has been enriched a thousand-fold.

Which author do you try to emulate when you write? Oh, man, I do not do this at all. Okay, well, not at all, because I find it to be a valuable writing exercise to practice with. But I super don’t. I’ve done projects where I’ve emulated Walt Whitman, Philip Levine, Tolkien, Dostoevsky, Poe (eugh), and Anne Valente. Those were super fun. I like imitating styles and I’ve gotten pretty darn good at it. Sometimes I tell myself to put a Gaiman-like twist on a section, though, or describe something like another author if it fits the tone for funsies. But I like writing like me! 

Where did you get the idea for your current wip? I’ve already talked about Heart to Heart, so I’ll talk about “Fish Food!” This one happened when I was pondering superheroes, James Bond, tropes, evil monologues, and the like. I had the image of a hero tied up and dangling over a pit of piranhas while the villain detailed his evil plan. But the hero didn’t follow the script. And then, like every one of my short stories, it spun way out of control. I started to think of what heroes would inhabit this world that erupted from the fertile soil of my brain and suddenly I had a big complicated story that I was excited about. And it was funny, which is a change for me.

Do you have a go-to beta reader/writing buddy you bounce ideas off of? I do! One of my goodest friends is a fellow writer and she’s my spaghetti wall if I need assistance. We went through the same creative writing program one year apart and had different teachers, so we offer each other pretty different advice, and it’s great. She’s super into fae lore, too, which is ridiculously helpful for me, a nerd who is writing a light fantasy story with fae in it. We operate in different styles and genres, though, so sometimes idea-bouncing is a little tricky.

Which of your WIPs is your favorite? Of the ones I’m working on right now? Probably “Incarnate.” Partly because it’s closer to my usual writing fare, partly because it’s weird and disturbing in my favorite ways, partly because the ending is really cool and surprising in a way that hits you long after you finish it. I also like it because it’s hard for me to write. Yay, challenges!

Tea, coffee, or soda? Tea for chillin’, coffee for workin’, soda for pizza times.

If you could have any fantasy creature as a pet, which would you have? A brownie to clean my house, or a domovoi to act as a weird home security system would be neat. For non-practical purposes, I’d also say a pegasus. I can ride pretty well and it’d be so convenient to just fly everywhere on my awesome horse buddy.

Do you like creepy/scary movies? NOPE. I am a big chicken shit when it comes to spooky things. As a kid, I was terrified of E.T. That’s how bad it was. 

What genre do you have yet to write in, but want to write soon? Hm. Maybe historical fiction? I already play with it a little bit without actually going into the history part of it too deeply. Maybe I’ll give it a shot in the future.  I’ve always wanted to give magical realism a good try, though. It’s always been hard for me to write. 

________________________________________

@aurisadventure​‘s questions:

1. Who is your favorite oc? Why?

Right now, it’s Lithium from “Fish Food.” She’s just so fun. I also just figured out a big part of Jill’s character that I’m excited to add to H2H!

2. What is your favorite thing to do when you’re not writing?

I got into cooking a while ago, and that’s pretty fun. I do yoga sometimes. I read a bunch. I also like putting things together. Honestly, I’m a big giant nerd who likes learning in their spare time.

3. What is your least favoured genre?

Hard sci-fi is really hard for me to get into. And some contemporary stuff, but it’s not as bad as hard sci-fi.

4. Top three favorite video games? (Any console)

DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS (with Awakening DLC, obvs) (except for the goddamn Mage Circle Fade part I hate it and it deserves to burn in hell)

Ori and the Blind Forest (I’m stuck on the last stupid fire volcano level and I’m so mad because it’s hard but this game is beautiful)

To The Moon (so many tears, such good story)

Honorable mention to Assassin’s Creed 2. 

(I love RPGs.)

5. What’s the craziest thing you’ve done for inspiration?

Hm. I don’t really go out and seek inspiration like this. I just consume a whole lot of art in varying mediums. 

I went to a poetry slam one time. Does that count?

6. Buggy or Cart?

Horses, buggy. Oxen, cart. As much as I’d like to be Gandalf...

7. Have you finished any of your wips?

I am so goddamn close to finishing “When Your Song is Over and Done” I can taste it. I’m hoping to write that last stupid scene this week. It’s been the one WIP that’s been kicking my ass lately. How rude.

I’m a short story writer, so I finish a lot of my WIPs. It’s kinda nice. That’s also why longer projects scare me.

8. But like… can I read it?

😉

In the meantime, you can read these!

9. What is your favorite animal? Why?

Highland Cows! Just look at them. 

I’m sure I have a more interesting answer for this, but honestly, cows are all I can think of. I love cows. 

10. Name one place you want to visit more than anything.

Norway! Not sure why. Seems like a really cool place to be.

(I lied I love space and want to go to the observatories.)

11. What is your most cherished childhood memory?

Saturday mornings curled up in my grandfather’s armchair watching TV and eating Burger King before we go visit the animals at the farm.

________________________________________

@maybeillwriteit‘s questions:

1. Which oc would you most like to go for a drink with?

I don’t drink, but I think Treena would be an excellent conversation partner. 

2. Where do you like to write? Bed? Desk? Cafe? etc etc

I have a desk in my room. Not that I usually write at it. I’m good anywhere I can sit up straight and rest my arms.

3. Which of your ocs do you think people are most likely to make fanart for?

Eventually, I hope Mel. I love her character design. Or the superheroes and villains from “Fish Food.” They all have really distinct appearances and cool costumes/uniforms.

4. Favourite piece of writing advice you’ve received?

Probably the time my mentor also admitted he hated writing dialogue, but that sometimes you just gotta. 

5. Which place in your stories would you like to live? (i’ve read this sentence ten times and i ain’t convinced it’s grammatically correct lol)

(maybe: In which place/where in your stories would you most like to live? I dunno this one’s freaking my brain.)

Linsay would be the best place to live, I think. A very chill small town that has everything you need, very supportive soon-to-be friends, an apothecary on stand-by, and lovely weather. Its residents are fiercely protective and are very willing to look the other way where the law is concerned if it helps someone.

6. Do any authors/books influence your writing? Which ones?

Oh, tons. Jim Butcher, Laurie Halse Anderson, George Saunders, Anne Valente, Tolkien, Gaiman, Matt Bell, Aimee Bender, and a whole bunch more authors. And, if you wanna get all heartfelt about it, every single book I’ve read has influenced my writing, whether it’s learning how to do something, learning how not to do something, or finding a new technique that jives with my style.

7. Pick one song that represents your wip.

I’ve done a bunch of song stuff with H2H, so this is for “Fish Food:”

Honestly, my first instinct is “Superboy and the Invisible Girl” from Next to Normal. But it’s not quite right.

I also wanna say “Super Friends” from Holy Musical B@man. 

But in my heart, I know the true answer is “Under Pressure.” How could it not be?

8. Favourite thing about being a writer?

The feels! I love writing things and getting my own feels out, then making other people feel things. It’s so satisfying. 

9. Characters or plot, what came first?

Characters! Oh my God, always characters. And before characters, concept and theme(s). Sometimes a scene just pops into my head and I have to figure out who these people are and why they’re there.

10. Do you like writing prompts?

I do indeedy. They’re pretty helpful when I’m stuck. I only write for the ones that instantly spark an idea in my brain, though. All the ones I’m getting for my 800 followers celebration are insanely good. 

11. Part of your wip that you’re most excited to write?

Oh, man! So many!

H2H: The climax! Well, one of them. The one of the magic incidents and Mel and Gemma’s relationship, to be specific.

Fish Food: When my main two dudes meet Lithium! And figure out what’s going on with her. Or anything about Lithium’s real life. Her story is wild.

WYSiOaD: The goddamn rooftop scene that’s been kicking my ass for a month. It’s gonna be so emotional and poignant and great and I can’t wait for it to be over.

[hekate1308]

Early Mornings

I am afraid I’m getting a little sidetracked with ensuring Mick gets enough character development. Don’t worry, there’s still some destiel and Dean feels. Enjoy!

Dean is the first one up this morning, if you don’t count Crowley (which he doesn’t because someone who doesn’t need to sleep doesn’t get up, period, no matter what the King of Hell thinks).

Sammy has all but given up his early morning runs, preferring to do them in the afternoon or evening instead, and Dean had come to cherish quiet mornings... if he wakes up early, that is.

Still, it’s a nice change in pace from time to time.

Cas, he learned as soon as his angel developed a need for sleep, is not a morning person at all, so it’s Dean’s duty to make sure they have coffee brewing by the time his grumpy boyfriend finds his way into the kitchen. If he deems it too early though, Cas will only huff at the offered drink and tuck Dean back into bed with him.

Those are not bad mornings either, if Dean’s being honest.

Mick of course has his alarm set for 8 am each day, sharp; he suspects it will be a while before he gets out of the schedule the Men of Letters have imposed upon him since he was a child.

That’s okay by him. They have a lot of practice when it comes to rebelling, after all.

Today, though, it’s a quarter to eight when Mick enters the kitchen, fidgeting.

“You alright?” Dean asks.

“Yeah”.                                

Yeah. Would have been “yes, thank you for asking” a few weeks ago. God knows how much worth the Men of Letters put on this pretend politeness. At least he doesn’t sound like a walking Oxford Dictionary anymore.

“You sure?”

Mick takes the cup of coffee he offers him and takes a deep breath.

“Do you by any chance know a djinn named Al?”

Oh. So that’s what this is about.                    

“Did he dream-walk into your head last night?”

“I wasn’t aware they could, but it’s logical, I suppose.”

Dean nods.

“He didn’t do anything wrong, did he? He’s usually a pretty cool guy...”

“No, no, he... “wanted to check in””.

Alright, he might be biased, but Mick’s quoty fingers aren’t half as adorable as Cas’. Just saying.

“Apparently he heard about me and wanted to make sure I was genuinely on your side.”

After a pause he adds, “You have a lot of... people looking out for you.”

Dean doesn’t begrudge him the slight hesitation. A few short months ago, every not-human was a monster to him.

“They started piling up at some point” he tells him. “What can I say, you warn them from certain death, people tend to get attached.”

Mick nods, looking down in his coffee.

“I’ve also felt... like I was being watched several times” he admits. “I recall the feeling from meeting Mel, and it’s usually around water... I think she’s spying on me”.

“Why would she? You seemed to get on pretty well.”

It was a memorable visit, Dean will say that.

“Hey, lovebirds!”

They’ve barely made it through the door but Mel’s already waving at them, looking as at home in the swimming pool as a –

Well.

“Hi Mel.”

“Figure I’d come and check on you. See how the newest house guest is faring.”

She’s so focused on making sure they are all safe – Dean knows that look of seemingly being relaxed while on high alert at the same time, he used to see it in his mirror daily – that she doesn’t even use the old Gaelic ritual. She just comes straight to the point.

“He was a little shaken that we had to burst him out, but nothing too bad.”

“Thanks to yours truly” Crowley adds, appearing next to them.

Apparently walking was too much work.

“Ah, the mistress of the waves.”

“Your Majesty”.

“And how are you?”

Her gaze, full of age and wisdom and the secrets nature spirits keep, slide over Dean’s face.

He smiles. He knows it’s a pained smile, but Cas is holding his hand. He’ll be ok.

“I’m fine.”

There was a time when these words were always, invariably, a lie. When they meant “I am not fine in any shape or form, but I know I have to be so things don’t fall apart”.

But this time is long gone. Has been for so long sometimes it’s difficult to remember that he didn’t always wake up to Cas’ blue eyes looking at him as if he’s the most beautiful soul ever created, Crowley grumpily putting breakfast on the motel room table, Sam happily bouncing in eventually with the news of the day.

“Really, I – “

“I can tell” she says simply.

Sam and Mick come in.

“Ah, there he is.”

She smiles at Mick.

“Just wanted to see the newest member of the team and bid him welcome.”

There is indeed a welcome there, but a threat too.

Mick gets it.

“We did. But she’s not... she’s... something else. And she’s very fond of you.”

Dean grins.

“That’s why it’s good to have a boyfriend who speaks Gaelic.”

“No, not just you as a pair. You. Dean Winchester. Al warned me about it too. Don’t betray any of you individually.”

“Yikes. Sounds serious.”

“He’s really alright.”

“That he is. Hasn’t taken a single victim since he was old enough to feed himself.”

“He’s a bit... overenthusiastic, I would say” Mick says, playing around with his cup.

“Once he figured out I wasn’t a threat – “

He takes a deep breath.

“He thought it would be nice to show me my earliest memories.”

Dean frowns. Sammy told him about his and Mick’s talk.

Mick said he never met his parents.

And that means –

Oh, God, Al. Well-meaning, friendly Al, thinking Mick would be so freaking happy.

It sounds just like him, really.

“I never knew what they looked like” Mick breathes.

“Man, that’s gotta be rough. Did Al – “

“He saw my reaction and brought me out of there. I snapped awake.”

“And weren’t able to go back to sleep” Dean finishes.

“You know the feeling, I assume.”

“Yeah”. Dean laughs somewhat bitterly.

“If I’d known what exactly I couldn’t go to sleep over...”

It’s weird now, remembering missing his mother so badly. In a way, he still does – he misses the woman he thought he mourned, misses her warmth, her easily given love.

He had no idea she wasn’t even ready to try and get to know them.

God knows this isn’t easy. But she could have at least tried.

“Do you think about her a lot?” Mick asks suddenly.

Dean raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry”. He laughs. It sounds slightly hysterical.

“I’m just – trying to to – “

Dean decides to cut him some slack. He left his whole world behind because he thought it was the right thing to do, and he just saw his parents for the very first time.

“Of course. Can’t help it. Just wish they were more pleasant thoughts.”

“She’s... Mary is...”

It’s kind of touching how he tries to spin the black-and-white seeing killer they escaped from into something Dean could be proud to call his mother.

Maybe he’s being unfair. That’s what haunts him the most, sometimes. But he’s alright. He has Cas to talk to, and Sam.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to. I made my decision and I haven’t regretted it once.”

Mick’s studying him.

“I was right about you.”

“What do you mean?”

Is he imagining it or is Mick actually blushing?

“Nothing. I – thank you, Dean.”

And he leaves the kitchen.

Oh well.

One thing’s clear.

Mel, Al, their other friends...

They have no reason to worry.

They went into the enemy’s lair and brought back another ally.