#i mean honestly once you start a poem with ���i love” youre already flying high. like sentiment of all time for real. me fucking too bro

[broke-on-books]

Happy poetry month! In the spirit of the month, what's your favourite poem? I'm not an avid poetry reader but mine is We Only Want the Earth.

Ooooh I'll have to check that one out, I don't think I've read it!

Hmmm as for favorite poem, there's a few I throw out as my top poem with frequency, but here I've got to say The Bridge by C. Dale Young. I just adore its positivity and the way it isn't afraid to be in love with the small details of life. That's just a feeling I relate with so much in my life and the whole poem is SUCH a vibe. Think I called it my idea of the world's greatest love poem in an essay once (which is def A Claim which idk if I'd fully back up now but the vibes are there) because it isn't just a poem about being in love with someone, it's loving everything they do and everything around you and loving just the world as a whole and how you see it everyday. Its such a vibe fr

Just- THIS !!!! ^^^^^^

[twistedtummies2]

How would your twst ocs react if someone proposed to them?

Ohhhhh...oh, this is gonna be a HARD one. XD I'm really not good at the hyper-romantic type stuff! But I'll try my best... First of all, let's completely disregard the gender of the other party: male, female, undecided...it doesn't matter, love is love, a proposal is a proposal. So if you're looking for explicit M/M or F/M stuff, not happening. XD With that said... I feel like, with James, Elias, Grit, and Maelstrom, in particular...no one would propose to them. Oh, no. THEY would propose to YOU first. Inarguably. Why? Well, James has a swashbuckler's sort of cavalier chivalry, despite his piratical attitude at times, so I think he would feel it's his duty to be the one to make the proposal first. Elias, meanwhile, just has a tendency to be very melodramatic in general. So he'd WANT to make that proposal first. He'd have a freaking speech or poem or song prepared for it and everything. Grit and Maelstrom...I feel both of them have a commonality of being raised a certain way by their parents. In both cases, they were taught to be the ones to make the proposal, so propose they shall. So ask not how they would react to someone proposing to them: ask instead how YOU would react if THEY proposed. ;) With those four out of the way, that leaves us with Nakoda, Billy, Reno, Smitty, and Theodore. In all five cases, I think there's a better chance of the other party proposing before they do, for various reasons. With both Smitty and Billy, I think they'd be very, very blushy. I mean, they're both still getting over the fact they have an S/O to begin with, somebody who is "more than a friend," someone who will give them hugs and even kisses and say loving things to them and go out on dates and so on. They're honestly very content there already. So when the other party reveals they're ready to go the next step...it's a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and absolute bewilderment this is happening at all. And you can be darn sure it's going to end in a LOT of cuddling...in Smitty's case, it's like hugging a teddy bear. In Billy's, it's more like the teddy is hugging you. ;) In Reno's case, he'd be caught off guard, but he'd also try to recover and save face as quickly as possible. He'd smirk and try to show off, laughing about how he wondered how long it would take you, before sort of snorting and saying that he'll accept, provided you give him a kiss right there and then. Just ignore the way his pale cheeks turn a bit pink, or how fast his heart is beating. ;) Theodore would, I think, just sort of freeze up, his eyes VERY wide. He'd be absolutely stunned. After you finish, he'd actually start laughing hysterically; a high-flying, cackling, almost insane laugh, wiping as he eyes and cackling about how he thinks you MUST be joking. Once he gets it through his head that, no, you are VERY serious...I think he'd switch instantly from cackling at the "joke" to sort of scowling as he tries to figure out what you even see in him. But eventually he'd accept it and give you a rare, soft smile before saying yes...mind you, with the added (affectionate) taunt that you have to be very dumb to propose to him. The kiss on your nose indicates he doesn't mind. As for Nakoda...he is different from all the rest. Because while all the rest will accept right then and there...he won't. He won't say no, either. He'll say he has to think about it. And he means it: he DOES have to think about it. Nako, as I've indicated many times in the past, isn't really used to long-running romantic relationships. He's used to one night stands...and a lot of those end with his partner ending up as food. So, even more than Smitty and Billy...he NEVER thought he'd get this far. He's been trying hard, mind you, but the very IDEA that this could become something more...that's something he almost can't wrap his head around. And it now means he has to really figure out what it's going to mean if he says yes. It's not that he doesn't trust you with all this, it's that he doesn't trust HIMSELF. Eventually, he'll say yes...then it's all a question of what comes next.

[panda-noosh]

lost in translation {draco malfoy x reader}

words: 11.8k 

summary: draco finds a notebook filled with beautiful, painful words. he keeps it for himself. he promises he’ll give it back to the rightful owner when he eventually finds them. 

genre: angst

notes: support my writing or ask about commissions! - masterlist - i literally don’t know what plot is any more okay. also i listened to i love you by billie eilish on loop whilst writing this so feel free to put that on if you want. 

---

    draco sees the words every time he closes his eyes.

   repeated stanzas, never leaving him alone. a mouthful of words no mind should ever be able to conjure. a haunting imagination capable of driving even the sanest people out of sanity.

   he found the book on a winters day at hogwarts. christmas time was just round the corner, meaning most of his friends had already fled the castle in favour of homes, somewhere out in the muggle world, where they could spend the holidays with families who cared for them as families often cared for each other.

   draco decided to stay at hogwarts.

   he didn’t want to - not really. his father was just being difficult, and he wanted to face the man even less than he wanted to spend the holidays with people like potter and teachers who didn’t like him because of his family name. 

    he is entirely on his own this holiday season, and it depresses him more than he would ever be willing to let on.

    because, you see, the thing with draco malfoy is, weakness has been a taboo subject amongst his family for as long as he can remember. his father drilled  into his conscience that malfoys always have their heads held high, that they must be able to cope entirely on their own in any circumstance, because that’s what strength is. needing no one. fending only for yourself. living life to get what you want without worrying about anybody else.

   this is why draco doesn’t sit with the other students during the christmas feast. instead, he finds himself traipsing through the library, poking at spines of books so old the writing has been smudged and worn, the contents made up of words once spoken in england, now lost to time.

    the place smells dusty. it makes him sneeze, and he grimaces when he pulls his finger away from a shelf to see it coated in a thick layer of dust which he hastily wipes on his already gravy-stained robes. his stomach grumbles with the reminder of the christmas feast waiting downstairs for him - all he needs to do is pull a chair up and dig in. none of the teachers will mind. the students might be a bit iffy, but when has draco ever cared about what they think?

    instead, he slumps against the wall, pulls a book into his lap and starts to read.

    he’s so engrossed in the old text that he doesn’t hear the library door opening. he doesn’t hear peeve’s taunting cackles until they’re right over his head, peeves pointed toes very nearly scraping his slicked back hair.

   draco’s head snaps up. above him, the poltergeist laughs, throwing his head back. 

    “peeves!” draco scrambles to his feet, swatting at the poltergeist. “oh, for christ’s sake, do you ever give it a rest?” 

    “all alone for christmas, are you, malfoy?” the poltergeist taunts. “surely daddy can afford you a way home with all that money the dark lord’s been shovelling into his pockets!”

   draco’s face burns. “go away, you annoying little roach, before i get the hoover!”

    peeves only laughs harder. “what a threat that was! wait till i tell the headmaster about that one.” and before draco can say anything else, peeves has grabbed a single, tiny book from the edge of a bookshelf and dropped it on draco’s head. 

    it crashes against the crown of his skull and bounces to the floor unceremoniously, flipping open upon the carpet. draco makes to yell, his fury bubbling over, but his voice is lost to the sudden emptiness of the room as peeves does what peeves does best and disappears.

   draco groans through gritted teeth, rubbing the spot the book bounced from. it aches a little bit, which is surprising considering the size of the book. not a textbook. not really anything any of his teachers would ask him to check out of the library. instead, it’s spiral bound, the words not typed, but handwritten in sloppy scrawl, like the author was in a rush when transferring their thoughts onto paper.

   draco frowns; why should a book such as this be in the schools library? 

    he picks it up by the corner, as if afraid the book might bite him - it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. the book, however, makes no strange movements. draco feels no strange, magical pull coming from the pages. in fact, if he were to use his common sense, he would believe the book to be straight from the muggle world.

   that alone should have been enough to deter him, but his father isn’t here, so he opens it and starts reading.

    the first few pages are awkward poetry. awkward essays, a person’s thoughts and opinions filtered with the fear of someone reading over their shoulder, perhaps. draco can tell the author was holding back, but the further he flips, the looser said author seems to become. they start using words. just words, so beautiful and magical and heartfelt that draco finds himself enraptured with every one. he struggles to put the book down, curling into his tiny corner in the library, enamoured by such language. he wonders for the brief moment he is able to take his eyes off the page if perhaps the book has been cast under a spell, if perhaps there is a spell in this world that puts heaven and hell into words and has transferred it to the very book he holds in his hands.

    draco has spent so long getting lost in the talents of wizards that he sometimes forgets muggles have talents and hobbies, too. there are creatives in the world who can create emotions from such small things. there are people outside the world of magic and wizardry who can do magical things, too.

    he has the evidence in his hand.

   ---

    he keeps the evidence in his hand all throughout the year. 

    he comes back to it after particularly stressful classes to remind himself that not all is bad; that’s the magic these poems and essays have on him. he could probably recite each one word for word, but he never does, because they belong to him now. he’s claimed them as a comfort blanket, something he needs to get through the day. he’s found an addiction within these words that he can’t let go of, not just yet, not until he figures out who wrote them.

    and that’s really all it boils down to - he wants to put a face to the mind that created the world he so desperately wants to share. 

    it’s a tuesday afternoon in feburary when blaise asks him about the book. 

    “are you ever gonna share what’s in that notebook you keep carrying around?”

   the question startles draco. he thought he was being so subtle. he hardly ever brings the notebook out to face the light of day, only ever reading it behind the curtains of his poster bed in the dorms.

    nonetheless, he doesn’t deny it’s existence. he doesn’t want to sound stupid. 

    he pokes at the vegetables on his plate and, without looking up, mumbles, “not really any of your business, is it?”

    blaise scoffs. “alright, be like that then. you carry that thing around like a little girl and her secret diary.”

    “are you trying to tease me, blaise? because you just sound stupid.”

    blaise rolls his eyes; he’s one of the few people that don’t get properly offended when malfoy fails to bite his tongue.

    “and anyway,” draco continues, “i don’t carry it around. it stays in my bed.”

   “oh, really?”

   “yes, and that’s where it’s staying.”

    “so is it yours, or did you take it from someone?”

    draco pauses. “it’s mine.”

    “i’ve never seen you write in a notebook before. not even in class.”

   draco shrugs; he hasn’t got a very good answer to that, because the statement is true. he tends to get others to write his notes for him when he can get away with it.

    blaise sighs. he leans back in his seat, folding his skinny arms across his chest. “so are you a poet now? some kind of shakespeare?”

   draco raises a brow. “some kind of what?”

   blaise waves a dismissive hand. “it’s a muggle thing. just answer the part you understood.”

    “i’m not a poet,” draco grumbles. “the poems in the book aren’t even mine. i found it when i was in the library a few months back, and thought it was interesting.” he shrugs like it’s no big deal, like this notebook has always just been a background prop in his everyday life. “it’s stupid, really. muggle stuff.”

   “so why are you so obsessed with it?”

   “i’m not obsessed!” draco’s grip tightens on the edge of his chair; he’s tired after a long day of quidditch practice, and honestly, he doesn’t want to deal with his friends bullshit any longer than he has to. “now, blaise, can you start minding your own business before we have some issues?”

   that shuts blaise right up. together, they eat the remainders of their dinners before draco excuses himself and leaves the table. his mind is reeling, heart thumping both with embarrassment and annoyance; he knows he’s popular amongst the slytherins. in a way, he asked to be centre of attention when he started mouthing off about the importance of the malfoy household all those years back, but it’s frustrating that he can’t even do a bit of light reading without getting asked about it. he thought he was being so subtle, keeping the curtains closed every time he read, never taking the notebook from the confines of the dorms, never uttering a word about it to-

    his shoulder crashes into yours.

   “shit.”

   draco stumbles back, catching himself on the wall. he’s too dazed to say anything, but his anger is rising, and he’s prepared to start yelling-

   but then he opens his eyes and sees you there, fumbling with a pile of posters that have spilled across the glossy corridor floor. draco blinks, glancing from you to the posters and back again.

    “i’m so sorry,” you mumble. “so sorry. i knew the pile was too high, but hermione had to go to-”

    “why don’t you just-” draco flicks his wand. immediately, the posters gather in a whirlwind and fly into his outstretched arms, a neat little stack, good as new.

   you look up, dazed. your eyes are gorgeous, plagued with evidence of exhaustion, but riveting nonetheless. draco recognises you only vaguely, and the few memories he has of these quick glimpses have never left him dissatisfied.

    “oh,” you say after a moment. “right. spells. magic. i forgot about that.”

   draco narrows his eyes. 

   you stumble to your feet, wiping trembling hands on your robes. it leaves a streak of dirt against the black, and that’s when draco sees the red and gold lining of house gryffindor.

    “sorry,” you repeat. “i mean, thank you, for - like - helping me. i completely forgot i could just-” you swish your hands in a mock gesture of wand-movement before laughing awkwardly. “weird, right? that i would - uh - forget that in a school of magic. when i’m a wizard. ha ha.”

   draco nods, because he really has nothing to say. he can’t keep his eyes off you, your awkward movements, the way you don’t even flinch at the sight of him. most gryffindor’s would be hurling insults at him by now - hell, he would be hurling insults at the gryffindor’s, too, but his words are caught in his throat and he can’t even properly function.

   so he looks down at the pile of posters in his arms.

    “CREATIVE WRITING 101!”

    you snatch the first poster off the pile as if that will stop draco from reading it. “it’s nothing. something stupid, really.”

   he looks at you again. “you like creative writing?”

   you shrug.

   “that’s such a muggle hobby to have. where’s the fun in it?”

   and for the first time this entire meeting, you scowl. you hastily snatch the posters out of draco’s arms, struggling to keep them neat and tidy in your own, but when draco raises his wand to help you out a second time, you swat his hand away and say, “i don’t need your help.”

   “you’re going to drop them again-”

    you’re already backing away. “you don’t need to come, you know. me dropping these in front of you wasn’t a bloody invite.”

   draco blinks. “i didn’t mean it like-”

   you run a hand through your hair, nearly stumbling over your own shoes yet again. draco lunges forward in his attempts to catch you, but you yell something incoherent in his direction, apologise profusely to a first year you nearly elbow in the nose before you turn on your heel and head back the way you came.

    draco stares at your retreating form, unable to fully comprehend what he did wrong. he doesn’t think he said anything offensive, let alone anything that would prompt you to nearly wipe yourself out in your attempts to get away.

    but then again, he isn’t really sure why he cares.

    ---- 

    it’s weird how - after one brief meeting - you suddenly appear at every corner draco takes.

    he never noticed you in his potion’s class before, but now he can’t avoid you. you sit at the back, a pen lodged between your teeth, brows furrowed together; despite your eventful meeting with draco only a few days prior, you don’t seem to have nearly as much interest in his sudden presence as he has with yours. he keeps glancing at you, not-so-subtly turning in his chair every now and then just to make sure you’re not some kind of illusion. nobody in the classroom is acting like anything is out of place, so maybe you have been his classmate for a while, and he just never noticed.

   he finds that a little hard to believe, but he has to take reality as it comes to him, or else he’ll go insane.

    he doesn’t talk to you for nearly a week, because he’s a little afraid of what you’ll have to say. he’s a little afraid you’ll say nothing at all, that you might have forgotten who he is entirely. 

    it’s you who makes the first move.

   it startles draco nearly out of his skin. he’s packing up his stuff, ignoring goyle’s ramblings to his left, when you slip your hand in his robe pocket. he jumps, spinning around just enough to dislodge your grappling fingers, and he’s seconds away from whipping out his wand to hex you when he freezes, eyes meeting your own, heart immediately plummeting into his stomach.

    you smile, wide and polite. “hello, old friend.”

   “can you get out of my pockets?” draco hisses, swatting your hand away when you make another attempt to dive into his robes. “what do you want?”

    “a pen,” you reply. “i broke mine.”

   “i don’t have a pen.” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his quill. “i have a quill.”

   “aaaah, my bad.” you snatch the instrument from him before grabbing his hand. he yelps, stumbling a little bit. he beams bright red when the noise he just made actually registers in his head, and he makes a mental note to scold goyle for snickering behind him.

   “what are you doing?” draco demands. he tries not to get too flustered at the height difference between you - your head could very easily rest in the crook of his neck, and he hates that he kind of wants to experience what that feels like.

    you scribble words into his palm. “this is the time and place for the creative writing clubs first meeting.”

   draco blinks. “what?”

   “time and place for the-”

   “why do you want me to go?”

   you scowl, not once looking up from the jagged lines of draco’s palm. “i don’t, but hermione’s asked me to gather as many people as i can find, and i think you kind of owe me one after being so rude the other day in the hallway.”

   draco falters; so you remember.

   “i wasn’t being rude at all,” he grumbles. “you’re just sensitive.”

    “maybe.” you drop his palm and shove his quill back in his pocket. “if you want to come, be my guest; it’s going to be a lot of fun. lots of - uh - writing and stuff, i can assure you.”

   draco scowls. “i won’t be going.”

   “okay.”

    “so this entire conversation was pointless.”

   you fold your arms over your chest, as if challenging him. “okay, draco. i’m not forcing you to come if you don’t want to, but - you know - i’ll save you a seat or whatever.”

   and draco doesn’t understand why that is the promise that tears him down, why that is the thing that makes his mind up for him. even as he gives you no solid answer, he knows he now has plans automatically built into his schedule to see you again, no matter how much he dreads the thought of it. 

    he looks down at the writing on his palm, and his heart stops.

   just for a second. a brief moment of death, before life is pushed back into him when his brain kicks into overdrive and he’s certain he’s going to pass away for real with how fast his heart is suddenly beating.

   he blinks rapidly. goyle is saying something, and the students are filtering out, but draco is lost, lost, spiralling as he recognises the messy scrawl, smudged even though it shouldn’t be, messy but coherent, familiar and amazing.

    he’s read heaven written in this exact same handwriting. he’s read heaven, and hell, and earth, and space, and the moon, and the stars, and he’s experienced an entire new existence written in this very handwriting. it’s the same handwriting that covers every single page of his sacred notebook, hidden in his pillow case back at the dorms. it’s the same handwriting that gives a form to the aches and pains and anxieties of the person who has just walked away from him, the person who’s brain draco has lived in since christmas.

    ----        

   “you’re actually going?”

   “it’s the least i can do.” draco fixes the collar of his robes, ruffles his hair a little bit. “i did nearly wipe them out in the hallway a few days ago.”

    “that was an accident.” pansy throws herself across draco’s bed, as she often does when she wants the attention he has never given her. he simply glares at her reflection through the mirror, silently willing her to get up and leave so he can set off for the history of magic classroom in which the creative writing club is meeting tonight.

    pansy, however, doesn’t take the hint.

   “i just think this y/n person is trying to get in your head,” she continues. “your head, your bed, all of the above...”

    draco’s face warms. “you can think whatever you want, pansy, but i’m going whether you like it or not. in case you’ve forgotten, you have absolutely no say in the way i live my life.”

   pansy rolls onto her stomach, tugs on the back of draco’s robes. “oh, you’ve made that very clear, malfoy. don’t come running back to me when you show up to this stupid muggle club and get ostracised for being who you are.”

    draco clenches his jaw, stepping out of pansy’s reach all without turning round. he knows she’s right, of course - there is no doubt in his mind that he is going to show up tonight, only to be met by the usual hostile glares he gets from everybody outside the slytherin house. he brought it upon himself, and he knows that - but he’s trying to fix it. he’s trying to prove himself as a good person to you.

   to the world. not just you.

    he swallows and turns. pansy stares up at him, hands curled beneath her chin, that sleezy little smile on her face. draco grimaces, points to the door and says, “the girls dorms are up the other staircase.”

    pansy’s smile falls. she scowls, stands up and leaves without another word. draco doesn’t care that he’s pissed her off - pansy, in recent months, has become a little bit too much. he’s given her the most wiggle room he can provide, and she has done nothing but bombard him further.

    he shakes the thought of his friend from his mind as he walks over to his bed and digs around in his pillow case. inside, he finds the poetry book he so desperately cares for, flicking to a page he has marked; he’s highlighted a few passages, and he reads them over as he steadies his breathing. this is such new territory for him. if his father finds out what he’s up to right now, he’ll be getting a very stern speaking to, possibly even a back-hand to the face if his father is in a particularly bad mood.

   but then draco remembers your expression, your hand digging around in his pocket, your stumbled words that somehow manage to pull together so beautifully when you want to express yourself.

   he has to see you tonight, whether it’s in a creative writing club or not. he’ll take just running into you in the hallway again, but to reach that point, he has to actually leave the dorms.

   he stuffs the book back into his pillow case, flattens a particularly frustrating strand of hair, and walks out the door.

    ---

    the history of magic classroom is dimly lit. 

   draco has seen pictures of muggle poetry readings before; they kind of remind him a little bit of exorcisms, and the set-up he’s currently walking into is no exception. 

   there’s candles lit upon every desk, the lights dimmed to create some kind of ambience that draco doesn’t understand. people are sat in a circle - people in every colour of robe, though draco is the only slytherin, it seems. this makes him a little nervous, and he hovers in the doorway, eyes tracing the scene in desperate search of you.

   he spots you in a matter of seconds. you’re leaning over a candle, frowning into the flame like you can’t quite understand why it’s flickering like that.

   draco makes a b-line for you.

   you look up only when he’s by your side, and immediately your expression brightens. those eyes of yours widen a little bit, a smile adorning your face. you straighten up, grab draco’s arm, and he’s certain he’s going to explode.

   “you made it!” you exclaim. “i can’t believe you actually came, mate; full of surprises, you are.”

   draco frowns, feigning frustration, like this is something he went out of his way to attend. “why are you staring at the flame so intensely?”

    “i’m staring at the flame so intensely-” you put on a pompous british accent, just to tease him, and draco doesn’t mind, “-because apparently you can turn the flames a different colour with the right spell, but it’s not working for me. watch.” 

   you elbow draco in the side, prompting him to shuffle over and give you more room. draco folds his arms over his chest, watching as you kneel down until your cheek is very nearly pressed against the desk. you point your wand at the flames and wave it, just once, but nothing happens. the flames barely even flicker.

    you blow it out in frustration. “fuck that.”

    draco laughs. he doesn’t know where it comes from, but it’s bursting out of him at the sight of your furrowed brows, and your pouting lips. you scowl at him, and it startles him how unsurprised you are to hear such a noise escape a man like draco malfoy. 

    draco shakes his head and nudges you to the side. “watch.”

    you grab his wrist. “no. nope. absolutely not.”

   “what? i’m gonna-”

   “you’re gonna show me up, is what you’re gonna do, and i didn’t ask for it.” you pluck his wand from his fingers and stuff it back in his robes. draco has to fight the urge to shudder, your fingertips tracing across his ribcage as you fumble for his inside pocket. 

   you pull away then, shaking your head. “it doesn’t even matter, anyway; you show me up in every other class we have together.”

    draco scoffs. “and i can assume you’re going to show me up tonight, so we’re even.”

    you grin, because draco is right, and you both know he is right. 

   you make a bit more idle chat before the final people make an appearance, and you’re finally asked to sit down. draco is confused to see hermione granger being the leader of this group of creatives, as he’s almost certain he’s never read anything more beautiful than your work; surely you should be up at the front, guiding people through the craft of writing, a craft you have so brilliantly perfected.

    draco sits beside you and says nothing. he fiddles with his fingers, coughing into his fist, rolling his eyes anytime someone makes a stupid suggestion. honestly, granger can talk forever, and draco is starting to get bored within the first ten minutes. all he wants is to hear you recite something, or for you to just. . . say anything about any of your pieces; draco could probably do it for you if that didn’t look creepy and uncalled for. he could stand at the front of this group and recite whatever piece of poetry he wanted from the notebook he took so long ago, and then maybe you’d get the recognition you deserve. maybe then you’d be able to share your potential instead of just sitting by draco’s side in a circle of poet-wanna-be’s.

   finally, hermione turns her attention on you, however.

    “y/n,” granger chirps. you jump, fumble with your wand, let it drop on the floor to roll beneath draco’s chair. he rolls his eyes and picks it up for you as you struggle to respond to hermione’s summons. 

   “uh, y-yeah? yes? did you ask me something?”

   hermione’s brows furrow. “do you ever pay attention to anything i’m saying?”

    “sometimes,” you reply, sheepishly. “definitely sometimes.”

   hermione rolls her eyes. “anyway - i was just wondering if you’ve done any writing recently that you’d like to share.”

    draco tenses. he flicks his eyes to his left to see you awkwardly ringing your hands in your lap, biting your lower lip.

   “uh....”

    “none?” hermione demands, eyes popping. “but i thought-”

   “i’ve been a bit busy,” you grumble. “it’s not that big of a bloody deal, hermione, goodness me.”

    “well, yes, i - i know that, but-” hermione gestures vaguely. “this is a creative writing club. i asked all of you to bring something with you. do you not even have an old piece of writing you could share with us?”

   “nope.”

   draco’s heart leaps. “what?”

   and suddenly, all eyes are on him.

   he slouches in his seat, but keeps his gaze on you. you stare back at him, eyes wide, clearly shocked at his contribution. 

     “you’ve got nothing?” he prompts.

    you can’t even reply. you just stare, and draco knows he’s being confusing, is aware that maybe he should just shut his mouth. or, better yet, do everyone a favour and walk out before he says any more stupid things that will do nothing but embarrass both you and him.

    “okay,” he grumbles, folding his arms over his chest. “okay, fine. that’s fine.” he looks up, meets hermione’s eyes. “you know what, granger, i don’t think this little club is my cup of tea. i’m going to head back to bed.”

    hermione blinks. no one says anything when draco stands and walks out, but he expected nothing less. he wasn’t welcome there in the first place. he should never have even made an appearance. he should have stayed in bed and let his feelings fester until he fell asleep.

    feelings are stupid anyway.

   ----

   he ignores you.

   in fact, he starts treating you how he treats everybody else - like they’re beneath him. a habit he once wanted to escape from has yet again become his comfort blanket, the thing shielding him from talking to you. every time you try making conversation, he sneers and walks off, barely even giving you the time of day.

   in truth, he knows what happened is no big deal. everyone probably forgot about it as soon as he left the room, getting absorbed in their own works of poetry. however, draco knows you want to discuss it, that you probably want answers he is far too afraid to give you. if he starts explaining why he said what he said, he’ll have to talk about the notebook, and then you might ask for it back, and draco is selfish because he doesn’t think he can give it back just yet. it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

   and so, he just ignores you.

   he sits in potions and pretends you don’t exist. he walks past you at lunch and doesn’t even give you a smile. he looks over your head every time you stand to wave at him. he doesn’t want to risk any inkling of conversation trickling in between you.

    pansy notices this, of course, but draco isn’t surprised. with how closely pansy has taken to watching over you and him, it would be more surprising to think she hadn’t caught on to the situation.

    she sits beside him at lunch, slamming her tray of greens down just loud enough that a few heads turn - including your own. draco quickly snaps his eyes down to his plate, trying to pretend he wasn’t just staring at the back of your head.

    “so,” pansy begins.

   draco licks the stuffing from his fork.

   pansy leans in, elbow hitting against his. “so. how did it go?”

    “how did what go?”

    “your little date with y/n! you never updated me on it!”

    draco scowls. “that was days ago, pansy.”

    “exactly. so now that i’ve got you trapped, you can fill me in on all the details.” she leans even closer, if that is possible. draco can smell the old woman’s perfume wafting from her robes and has to take a glass of water to quell the itch it summons to his throat. “y/n doesn’t look too happy with you, i’ll say that much. i sit behind them in care of magical creatures, and they’ve been awfully quiet since the club meeting; care to explain?”

   “why is it any of your business?”

   pansy grins. “because i told you someone like y/n wasn’t worth the trouble; a gryffindor, draco, really? were the robes not a big enough red flag for you?”

    draco scowls. “first of all, pansy, y/n and i are just friends, and have always been just friends. i’m not doing anything to impress them.”

    pansy scoffs, finally moving away to start spearing at her dinner with her fork. “how stupid do you think i am? how stupid do you think we all are? goyle doesn’t keep your little infatuation a secret, you know. he told us all about how close you and y/n get in potions together.”

    draco’s grip tightens on his fork. “close isn’t really the right word.”

   “the bickering? the way they make you laugh? the way you help them with their potions when they’re struggling so snape won’t tell them off? that sounds awful close to me, draco.”

    he has no answer to that. his chest aches, memories of such delightful times flooding his mind and making him crave it all again. he remembers those times when he would glance over his shoulder to see you running your hands through your hair, struggling to comprehend what on earth snape has just ordered you to do; if it was anyone else, draco wouldn’t have given them the light of day, but seeing the fear in your eyes every time snape gave you even the briefest flicker of attention saw draco abandoning goyle to come save the day at your desk.

   “so what went wrong?” pansy continues. “a lovers tiff?”

    draco closes his eyes. “it was nothing, pansy; just me being an idiot again.”

   pansy gasps, eyebrows shooting up her forehead. “you? being an idiot? and you’re openly admitting to it! goodness me, y/n must be a lot more skilled at magic than they let on, huh?”

    “i don’t know what to do.”

    it’s a plea. draco knows it’s a plea. in his heart, the cracks are beginning to form, and he can’t pretend any longer. he watches the back of your head - has been watching the back of your head since the meeting, because that’s the only glimpse of you he will let himself have. it hurts to see you laughing, smiling, slapping ron weasley on the arm. it shows you’re healing, moving on from your attempts to get draco to listen. 

   he’s ruined everything.

    pansy leans forward. her voice is softer now, surprisingly kind. “draco, are you serious about this? i know i’ve been teasing, but do you actually like y/n in that way?” 

   draco bites the inside of his cheek. he remembers the times he had with you, how he used to laugh so freely with little care as to who heard. you teased him and made him feel normal, and he isn’t sure when his appreciation for you went past the poetry you wrote and emerged into you as a human being, but it’s happened, and he’s nodding to pansy’s question before he can think better of it.

   pansy draws back, letting out a shaky breath. “wow, okay. . . this is definitely new territory for me. for you. i’m not sure how to go about it.”

        “i took their notebook from them,” he mumbles. 

   pansy raises a brow. “their - their notebook?”

    “y/n writes,” he explains. “beautiful things. addictive things, and i found their notebook in the library over christmas and i kept it for myself. i only found out it was theirs a few days ago, but. . . i never told them i have it. i got scared to.”

   pansy pauses. draco’s never used that word in a sentence before. it sounds fake, like he’s made it up and just thrown it at the end of his sentence for the fun of it.

    “well, that would be a good place to start, i think.”

   his eyes snap up. “what?”

    “give them their notebook back.” she says this like it’s obvious, raising her brows. “it’s a good way to start a conversation, and once the conversation’s been breached, you can go on to explain everything else - it’s pretty simple when you get your head around it, draco.”

    he blinks. it does make sense, but again, there comes that burning protectiveness he can’t seem to shake. 

    selfish, selfish, selfish.

   he glances over at the gryffindor table. you’ve got your head thrown back again, laughing so loudly and so carefree that draco’s heart trembles because he isn’t the one making you laugh like that. it’s ron. it’s harry. it’s everyone who thinks he’s an awful human being, bringing joy to the one person who’s ever seen him as decent. they’ve probably told you a joke about how draco’s scum, how he’ll never amount of anything, how he claimed his spot at the top purely because of his father.

   fury pools in the pit of draco’s stomach. he spears his food with his fork, pushes away from the table and walks out of the dining hall before giving pansy an answer as to whether he simple plan is one he’ll actually take into consideration.

   but now that he’s storming through the halls towards the slytherin common room, he knows it’s not something he can just consider. he can never move on with you with your notebook stuffed in his pillow case. he needs to be honest, and he needs to apologise, and these are all things he struggles with greatly, but all things he needs to learn before he loses you for good.

   ---

    the notebook hasn’t seen the light of day past draco’s dorm since christmas.

    it feels weird carrying it so freely now, slowly making his way through the halls with it pressed against his chest, the spirals digging into his lower arm. people look at him, but nobody bats an eye at the notebook, and why would they? it’s not suspicious. most of them probably think it’s nothing more than a school notebook, used for taking notes in classes. 

    still, his anxiety runs at a million miles per hour. he wants to yell at anyone who even glimpses the tiny square peeking from over his arms. he wants to tell them it’s none of their business.

   but he doesn’t. he keeps walking until he’s reached the gryffindor common room.

   it’s just his luck that ron weasley is the one stood outside. the ginger lad spots draco immediately, and it’s reflex when draco scowls and says, “got nothing better to do, weasley?”

   ron glares. “what are you doing here, malfoy? the slytherin common room is back the way you came.”

    “good thing i’m not going to the slytherin common room.” he nods towards the portrait hole. “is y/n in there?”

   ron pauses. “what do you want with y/n?”

   “i need to talk to them.” he swallows before gently unravelling the notebook from his arms. “i accidentally grabbed this in potions - i need to give it to them.”

   “right, give it here then.” ron reaches for it, and draco stumbles back. he stumbles, not even bothering to swat ron’s hand away as pure panic seizes him. ron pulls back hastily, eyes widening at draco’s response.

   draco, through gritted teeth, says, “just go get y/n for me, will you?”

    ron stares at him a second longer before turning on his heel and walking back into the gryffindor common room. draco tries calming himself down in the minutes it takes for ron to reappear with you at his side.  

    the attempts are futile.

   the minute he lays eyes on you, his heart starts thundering in a way that confuses him to no ends; he shouldn’t feel like this over someone so ordinary, and in truth, that’s what you are. you’re a student, just like him, struggling through school life, just like him. you go about your day in almost the exact same way as he does, and yet he’s never before felt so intrigued by another individual.

   when your eyes meet his, you don’t smile. you don’t even look surprised. you grip the front of your night gown, glaring at him, not saying a word in greeting; draco’s mouth has gone dry, however, and saying anything is the absolute last thing on his mind when you’re standing in front of him, hair a mess, more beautiful and casual than he’s ever seen you.

   ron is the one who has to break the silence. “he said he’s got a notebook for you.”

    draco inhales sharply, suddenly remembering the artefact clutched in his hands. your eyes drift to it, and for a moment, you look puzzled. your eyebrows scrunch together, head tilting a little before you say, “that’s mine?”

    draco thrusts it in your direction. “please take it.” he turns to ron. “and you - please leave.”

   ron looks offended, looking at you for back-up, but your eyes are peeled on the notebook, not paying even the slightest bit of attention to ron. in the end, the weasley man rolls his eyes and stalks back into the gryffindor common room, leaving the corridor empty besides you and draco.

   and draco feels every sliver of tension like it’s been injected into his bone marrow. flashes of his behaviour play on loop in his brain, the way he ignored you, the amount of times he scowled at you every time you tried speaking to him; he never meant any of it, of course, considering you’re the most fascinating person he’s ever come across, but he did it anyway, and that’s what he has to patch up.

   somehow, he has to patch this up.

   he looks to the floor, tucking the notebook back against his chest when you don’t take it from his hands. the silence is crushing, but draco has absolutely no idea what to say to fill it in - pansy made this all sound so easy; he would hand you the notebook, and a conversation would immediately stem from that. 

    but no. draco’s mind has gone completely blank, and you still look furious, and neither of you are doing anything to resolve the mess he has made.

    finally, however, draco can’t take it any more. “i found your notebook.”

    “yeah. ron said.” you pluck it out of his arms. “where did you even find this? it’s so old.”

    “in the library.”

   “the library? what was it doing there?”

   draco shrugs. “how would i know that?”

   “considering you’re the one who stole it-”

   “i didn’t steal it. i just didn’t know who it belonged to.” a lie. he shouldn’t be lying. that’s a bad way to go about things. “i mean, i took it back to my dorm with me, kept it safe, but - like - i was of course going to give it back once i figured out who the owner was.”

    you hum. “i’m sure you were.” you flick open the pages, immediately spotting a passage draco has highlighted in bright orange pen. “you tabbed it?”

    he shrugs. “sometimes i read it when i got bored.”

   “i should be angry at you for that, you know - that’s a big invasion of privacy.”

   “yeah. you should be.” he looks up sheepishly. “are you?”

    you pause, eyes continuing to drift over the pages of your own work, work you haven’t seen or reread since at least christmas time. you don’t look impressed, or angry, or anything at all, really. you just read the lines and nod, as if taking inventory.

   then, you look up and say, “i’m more angry at the way you’ve been treating me this past week.”

   draco wilts. he knew it was coming, that this was the main source of hostility for the both of you, but he really thought the presence of the notebook would somehow buy him some time, maybe make this conversation a bit easier. 

   you snap the notebook closed, shoving it into the pocket of your night gown. “you didn’t even tell me what i did wrong!”

    “you didn’t do anything wrong!”

   “then why were you acting like that? why couldn’t you just talk to me?”

   draco squeezes his eyes closed, trails his hands through his hair, tries to calm down before he says something he’ll immediately regret. “you know, it’s a lot more complicated than you’re making it out to be.”

   you pull back, puzzled. “how is it complicated? you’re nearly eighteen years old, draco! it shouldn’t be complicated to talk to someone when you’re mad at them!”

   “ i wasn’t mad at you! i thought you were mad at me!”

   you throw your head back and laugh, and this is the very noise draco has been craving for days, but he doesn’t want to hear it now, not here, not in this context. you’re not taking him seriously. you’re not listening.

   “this is the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard,” you cackle. “is this about the fucking club meeting? you think i gave a shit about what you said?”

   draco shakes his head. “again, love, it’s not as simple as that.”

    “then explain it to me. explain to me what the hell was going through your head to make that switch flip so suddenly.”

    something inside draco snaps, a string he didn’t even realise was being pulled so taut.

   “do you wanna know what’s been going through my head recently?” his voice drops, your expression faltering. “it’s that fucking notebook of yours. it’s been all i can think about for weeks, because i can’t wrap my head around the idea of you being the author of those poems.”

    you blink. “w-what?”

   “you’re so carefree. you’re so. . . so you, y/n, and it seems impossible to me - unfathomable! - that you could be thinking such harrowing thoughts and not a single person has picked up on it besides me - and i’ve only done so by complete accident.” he inhales, runs a hand through his hair. “i’ve read your poems a thousand times over, and even though i know they came from you, i still can’t put your face to the words. i still can’t figure out how on earth you and that notebook are related in any way, and it’s been driving me insane. i want to help you, and it’s driving me insane.”

    again, you blink. the corridor goes quiet. draco’s breathing slows, stabilises, and he has no idea what he’s just said, or if any of it makes sense, but there is a weight off his chest that provides such a great amount of relief he wants to cry.

   finally, you swallow. your knuckles protrude from your hand with how tight your grip on the notebook is. your eyes stray to the ground, throat bobbing, mouth opening for just a second before you seem to think better of it and go silent again.

    draco takes a step back. “look, you can have it back,” he says. “i don’t want it any more. i don’t - i don’t need it any more. but i just want you to know i’m sorry, and i never wanted to hurt your feelings. i was just. . . feeling things, and it wasn’t normal for me, and i got scared.” he raises his hands in mock surrender, taking another step back. “feel free to never talk to me again. i’ll understand.” 

   he waits for another second. hope springs to his chest, hope that you will tell him not to go, that you’ll forgive him on the spot and the two of you can live happily ever after, but it doesn’t work that way. you meet his eyes and nod, before turning on your heel and heading back into the gryffindor common room.

    ---       

    “how did you mess that up again?”

   draco presses his knuckles into his eyes, as if pushing goyle’s words out of his brain. he should never have told the other slytherin about his encounter with you, but goyle was the first person on the scene, and malfoy just lost control; he needed to rant to someone. he needed to get it off his chest.

   and it seems now goyle has suddenly developed a perfect memory, as two days after the meeting in the corridor, he has not let the subject drop.

   the two sit together in defence against the dark arts; their teacher has long since left the classroom in search of some more work sheets for them to get cracking with, and the class has erupted into an expected chorus of conversations. draco wants nothing more than to put his head on the table and ignore the world, take this break as a chance to catch up on some of the sleep he has been robbed of these past few weeks, but goyle doesn’t let him go that easily.

    the bigger boy leans over and taps draco on the back of the head. “come on, man, talk to me. there’s got to be something we can do.”

    “there is nothing,” draco barks through gritted teeth. “and i’m sick of repeating myself, goyle, so shut your trap before i shut it for you.”

   goyle sighs, leaning back in his seat. “so y/n just. . . didn’t even say anything? they just walked off without a word?”

    “they did, which i took as a clear sign they never want to see me again.”

   “do you not think you might be looking too deeply into that reaction?”

    draco glares, eyes bloodshot, probably more terrifying than they have ever been. “tell me where on earth i could have looked too deeply.”

    goyle shrugs. “well, you did admit to spilling this massive, emotional speech over them in the middle of the night - maybe they just didn’t know what to say at the time. i bet if you go up to them now and ask for a follow-up conversation, they’d be more than willing to sit down and discuss everything.”

    “there’s nothing to discuss. i said everything i wanted to say, and y/n rejected me - i’m man enough to take it at face value and move on.”

   a lie, of course, but draco just wants goyle to shut up. he wants to continue sulking on his own, because that’s what he does best. he doesn’t need friends patting him on the back, trying to cheer him up. he knows he’s messed up, and he’s willing to suffer in solitude for his stupidity.

    “i’ve just never seen you act like this around anyone.”

   draco’s head snaps up. “what do you mean?”

   but he knows exactly what goyle means, because goyle is telling the truth. nobody has ever made draco this stupid. nobody has ever plagued his mind like this, and it’s driving him insane.

    goyle folds his beefy arms across his chest. “i’m not saying it’s a bad thing, draco; sometimes it’s nice to see you unravel a little bit. god knows you’ve had a stick rammed up your ass for long enough.”

   draco rolls his eyes. “well, there’s no point in dwelling on it; nothing is going to happen. whatever friendship y/n and i had is gone, and i’m just gonna have to accept it.”

    goyle scowls, but draco pays him no attention. instead, he goes back to idly tapping his pen against his bottom lip, trying desperately to put his own words into play. he just needs to get over you. he needs to go back to the cold hearted, uncaring wizard he was raised to be, because that was the only version of himself that never got hurt. he never let himself get hurt. it’s strange how you walk into his life, and suddenly that entire side of him is being stripped away, replaced by this oversensitive, overthinking, annoying piece of shit who suddenly relies on someone else to get them through the day.

    draco hates it, but he hates the idea of not having that even more.

   ----

   “so are you going to tell me why y/n won’t talk about you?”

   draco looks up, his scowl a reflex when he makes eye contact with ron weasley. he stands over him, arms folded over his chest, wearing a set of school robes with little burn marks pecked into the material; draco has half a mind to tease him for it, before finding he has absolutely no energy to do such a thing right now.

    instead, he leans back against the tree he has been sat under, gazing at the sky as mountains of homework piles up in his dormitory - piles of homework he has yet to touch, because every time he tries focusing his mind on a single task, it veers off and he can’t do anything.

    ron raises a brow at draco’s silence. “no? you’re both gonna keep your mouths shut?”

   “i don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

   “no, of course you don’t.” and then, ron does the most surprising thing - he slumps down next to draco, their shoulders clicking. “i’m gonna take a wild guess and say you fucked things up again.”

   draco swallows, closing his eyes. “again, none of your business, weasley.”

   “good answer. it makes perfect sense now.” ron nudges his arm. “what happened?”

   and draco knows it’s out of character. of all the people he could rant to, ron weasley should - and always has been - the absolute last on his list, but he looks at ron and he’s reminded that he is your friend, that ron makes you laugh, and he’s probably cheered you on during this uncomfortable time with draco. with that knowledge comes a sense of warmth, a gratefulness he’s never felt before, one he doesn’t completely understand.

   but he leans into it, because he’s too tired to fight it off. with his cheek pressed against his knees, he tells ron the whole story, from start to finish. he goes back as far as christmas, that god-forsaken day in the library when he wanted nothing more than to enjoy a nice bit of light reading whilst he ignored the rest of the students downstairs, how peeves had dropped that notebook on his head, and he’d grown attached to it, rereading the poems every day until the day he had to surrender it back to you.

    “sounds quite stalkerish,” ron comments.

   draco scoffs. “it does, doesn’t it?”

   ron sighs, shifting slightly. in the distance, a group of first years run screaming away from the whomping willow. a stone gargoyle shakes its winds atop the astronomy tower. such beautiful sights, and yet draco can’t feel a thing.

    “okay, look,” ron says. “don’t get any of this twisted, alright? i still hate you. more than i thought humanly possible.”

    “cheers.”

   “but, i care about y/n. a whole lot. they’re like family to me. they’ve been miserable these past few days, and it’s starting to take a toll on me. so, i’m here to give you a bit of advice.” he turns, leans in, lowers his voice. “don’t give up so easily.”

   draco jerks away. ron snickers, leaning back against the tree, gazing out at the green grass without a care in the world; draco, however, is stunned, heart racing though he doesn’t even know why. those words just hold so much hope, a hope he hasn’t let himself feel since it happened. he was slowly coming to terms with the idea of never talking to you again, and here ron weasley walks into the scene, ruining everything - like always.

   draco splutters, swallows, pulls himself together. “w-why do you say that?”

   “i thought it was obvious, mate,” ron replies. “y/n clearly has a soft spot for you. god only knows why, but that’s neither here nor there. all i care about right now is the fact they’ve been moping around for days, not even laughing at my jokes or anything. it’s getting exhausting when all you need to do is talk, and this entire thing could be resolved.”

    “it’s not as easy as that.”

   ron raises a brow. “oh? and why not?”

   draco opens his mouth to respond, because he’s certain he has one. however, when he thinks about it, there really isn’t a decent answer to that question; he’s young, dumb, embarrassed. he stole your notebook, gave it back, confessed his feelings and then fled the scene - the only reason he hasn’t spoken to you since that fateful day is because he doesn’t want to bring up his own embarrassing gestures ever again. the quicker he buries them, the better.

    but at the cost of you? maybe he should rethink it.

   ron laughs. he stares at the side of draco’s face, pure amusement dancing across his features. draco scowls, because that’s what draco always does when he sees even the slightest flicker of joy on the weasley boys face; it’s become routine by now, even if he doesn’t feel the same contempt he’s so used to.

    “it’s bizarre, isn’t it, that i’d be the one giving you relationship advice,” he says.

   “it’s bizarre you’re helping me out at all, to be honest.”

   “i’m not as heartless as you like to think i am, malfoy.” he stands, wiping his hands down his robes, smearing muck on the already dirty cloth. “if anyone asks, we were arguing and i won.”

   draco blinks. “thank you, weasley. i mean it.”

   ron rolls his eyes. “i’m sure you do. now never speak to me again.” he turns on his heel and strolls back down the hill without a second glance in draco’s direction. 

   ----  

    draco’s heart is going to burst from his chest. 

   he’s been in this state far too often these past few weeks. he wants it to stop. he wants to go back to a life where he didn’t have a care in the world, where he owned this school, where he had the confidence that has carried his family name for decades.

   the only way he’s going to reach that point again is by sorting things out with you.

   or at least letting you know how he feels, because he can’t deny any of it any more. he can’t go around pretending you mean nothing to him. no, he still can’t explain where these feelings came from, if they started with the poetry and grew, or if they started that very day he laid eyes on you in first year and thought you were the prettiest one of his lousy classmates. he can’t explain any of it, but he doesn’t need to try. he doesn’t need to go as far back at that. all he needs to do is talk to you, let you know that you have changed him in very scary ways, and then he can move on. no matter your reaction, he can move on.   

   at least, that’s what he tells himself as he walks through the school corridors in search of you. it’s already getting dark, the january days lasting what seems like only a handful of minutes. students are flooding from their last classes of the day, and it’s only when draco spots a gryffindor bustling through the crowd does he stop.

   he grabs the unsuspecting student by the arm, not even surprised nor offended by his look of pure disgust. draco simply grins, because that’s reflex for him, before saying, “have you seen y/n l/n anywhere?”

   the boy furrows his brows. “i saw them talking to filch when i was walking to class. what do you want with them?”

   draco raises a brow; talking to filch? what could you possibly want with argus filch of all people?

   draco shoves the gryffindor away, thanking him with a nod before he turns and starts towards the caretakers office. he’s never been there before, mainly because he’s never wasted his time trying to hold a decent conversation with the caretaker, but he finds it in good enough time - an ordinary brown door, decorated only with the name ‘argus filch’ written across it in what looks like normal, muggle sharpie pen.

   draco racks his knuckles against it, uncertain if he’s doing any of this right. in all his years at hogwarts, he’s seen filch in his office only a handful of times, and even if he just happens to be in his office now, what will draco even ask him? what he was talking to you about? if he somehow knows where you went after the conversation was over? 

   he waits there, however, because he has no other leads, and he needs to talk to you. he needs to get this over with, or else he won’t be able to sleep, and he can’t afford to be groggy during quiddith practice; he’s been performing bad enough these past few weeks, and if he can just get this off his chest-

    the door swings open.

   it isn’t filch.

    “argus, i promise i’ll be done in-”

   you pause. your eyes widen. your mouth snaps closed, grip tightening on the door frame, and draco is certain he’s going to explode at any moment.

    “y/n.”

   your name is a whisper, barely audible over the sound of his racing heartbeat. he doesn’t even know if he said it, or maybe it was just a thought. at this moment in time, the two things are interchangeable. 

    “draco.” you swallow, shuffle awkwardly, look to the floor in a rare look of timidity. “w-what are you doing here?”

    “i was looking for you.” he speaks fast, like he’s running out of time, and maybe he is. maybe you’re only giving him a few seconds before the memories flood back and you slam the door on his face, ruining his chances once and for all. maybe you think his attempts are idiotic, embarrassing, and you’re only letting him talk out of pity. 

    but you don’t slam the door on his face. not at all. you stand there, looking more beautiful than draco has ever seen you, even though nothing has really changed. 

    draco swallows, curling his fingers into fists. “someone told me you - you were in here.”

    your eyes snap up. “i didn’t tell anyone where i was. that was kind of the whole point.”

    draco nods like he understands, because part of him kind of does - hiding away, pretending you are the only person to exist. it’s a comfort sometimes. 

    “what do you want, draco?”

    and just like that, everything he wanted to say is swept from his brain. 

    you fold your arms over your chest, one foot tapping rapidly against the floor. “d-did you have anything to say to me?”

    you almost sound hopeful.

    “ron told me not to give up so easily.”

    you pause.

   draco rushes on, because he knows he hasn’t done this right. he’s gone so far off script, and he hasn’t even got to the main point of his argument.

    “i don’t listen to weasley - ever. quite frankly, his advice is usually more detrimental than helpful, but - but he told me earlier to come find you. he told me you weren’t doing so good-”

   “ron-”

  “and i don’t know if that’s true on your end, but it’s true for me.”

    you blink. 

   draco exhales shakily, running a ringed hand through his hair. “i’m not doing so good, y/n. i don’t like the way we left things. i don’t like the fact that we left things at all. i should have explained myself a bit better, or come to you sooner, but you know how i am. god, you know how i am better than anyone else in the world, so please, please understand that i’m trying so hard to put my dignity aside to let you know how much i care about you.”

       there is a silence. a silence so heavy that draco feels crippled beneath it, unable to do anything but wait in anticipation for a response he might not even deserve. he’s done so many things wrong - not just with you, but with life in general. he is a bad person, and he knows this, and he’s trying to change, because you don’t deserve a bad person. 

    you swallow. he watches your throat bob. 

    “i don’t know if i believe you.”

    your words are a whisper, but they shatter everything around him like they were screamed at the top of your lungs.

    he shakes his head dumbly, like that is answer enough. he wants to say something to argue his case, but his tongue feels heavy and a cloud has passed over his brain.

    “draco, i don’t know if i believe you,” you correct, sounding almost desperate. “y-you treated me like shit for no reason. you took my notebook and didn’t give it back. you’re a dick to my friends-”

    “i know,” he bursts through gritted teeth, like he is in physical pain. “y/n, i know. i know, and i’ve been beating myself up over it for weeks. but that’s what i do - that’s what i’ve always done. i play the victim card and blame everybody else for my wrongdoings, and it’s childish. i’m trying to stop. i’m really, really trying.”

    you open your mouth to respond, but draco takes one look at the tears in your eyes and barrels on, suddenly desperate to dig himself further into the dirt.

    “you know what? i don’t even know why i’m here. i’m sorry. i should just - i should just leave you alone and let you get on with your life. you and i were never meant to be together, and i just need to accept that and move on.” he can’t stop talking. he can’t stop hating himself. “i’m sorry, though. for everything i did to upset you. for every stupid thing i said or did - know i didn’t mean it. from the bottom of my heart, y/n, i would never hurt you. never. so that’s why i’m gonna go. i’m gonna leave you alone. i’m g-gonna support you in whatever you want to do in the future. as long as you’re happy.”

   he tries for a smile, because that’s the way you’re meant to end these things, isn’t it? you smile, and you shake their hand or something, but draco can’t bring himself to do that, so he turns on his heel instead. he turns away from you, knowing this will be the last time, that there is absolutely no going back, no matter what horrible advice ron weasley gives him. he needs to get over you. he needs to let you go once and- 

   “draco.”

   you grab his wrist and he stumbles. he stumbles because of your grip, but he stumbles, too, because his name on your lips will never get old. it’s music to him, music he never listens to because his father always said it was a waste of time. he basks in it, spinning around to meet your eyes, and his heart crumbles at the tears now rolling down your cheeks.

   his own eyes widen. “y/n-”

   “you’re so stupid,” you sob. “so fucking stupid, do you know that?” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a desperate hug. you sob into his shoulder, and draco is frozen, hands hovering over the small of your back, unsure how to take this reaction. “you’re literally the most idiotic person i’ve ever met in my life. how is it you? how is it always you?”

   draco blinks. “how is what always me?”

   “everything!” you wail, hugging him tighter. “it’s just always you, draco. always.”

    and draco still has no idea what you mean, but he’s learning to understand that maybe he doesn’t need to know what you mean all the time. maybe he just needs to be there for you to yell and cry and make no sense, and that will be enough.

   he wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. he’s never been any good at hugs, but he’s melting into this one. 

    “idiot,” you whisper into his neck. “thinking i’m just gonna let you leave like that. . . thinking i don’t like you back. . . thinking i’ve stopped thinking about you for even a second these past few days. . .”

    draco holds you tighter. 

   you pull away after a moment, quickly swiping your hand beneath your eyes. they are puffy now, red-rimmed, and draco knows he will have to explain this to ron in some way or the other without giving ron the benefit of knowing his advice might have actually been beneficial for once.

   “i think we both messed up a little bit,” you mumble through sniffles, wiping your nose on your sleeve. “my reaction wasn’t exactly very helpful, was it?”

   “well. . . no, but-” draco exhales. “i meant what i said, y/n; i never meant to hurt you. i would never do that.”

   your smile trembles. draco has only a second to smile back before you’re throwing your arms around him again, pulling him in for a hug that he is getting strangely fond of.

    ----        

    your pen scratches against the paper. draco can’t sleep; he doesn’t really want to sleep, despite the hours of classes and quiddith practice he has to endure in a few hours time.

   you never sleep. not really. draco is convinced you live entirely off caffeine and words, staying up into the early hours of the morning with that notebook of yours, your muggle pen darting back and forth over the pages. he scolds you for it sometimes, but he’s always smiling, and you always roll your eyes in response.

    now, however, he has one arm thrown over your shoulders, watching you work. it’s already three in the morning, but he’s too enamoured to bother falling asleep; he’d rather stay up and watch you work.

    “bic,” he says out of nowhere, shattering the hours of silence the two of you had collected.

   you pause, looking up. your eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot. draco smiles. 

   “what?”

    “bic.” he nods at the pen in your hand. “that’s the name of your fancy muggle quill, isn’t it?”

   you frown, taking another second to catch onto what he means, despite the clear explanation he has just given. however, it eventually dawns on you, and you frown even more.

   “oh, right. yeah. bic. that’s the brand name.” you place it in draco’s hand. he holds it close to his face, squinting to read the tiny letters written in the plastic. “the best pens in the world, i’d say; much more practical than those bloody quills we have to use in class.”

   “nothing wrong with our quills,” draco says, tilting the pen back and forth, examining every inch of it. “mine cost me a good lot of money.”

   you scoff, snatching the pen back. “i’m sure it did. waste of a good lot of money, too, when you could have just bought a pack of twelve bic pens for a fiver.”

   draco furrows his brows. “a fiver? what’s that in real money?”

   you roll your eyes, smiling fondly, and it’s that very smile that has draco leaning forward to peck you on the lips. it takes you out of your work, which he knows will frustrate you in the morning when you wake up to see you didn’t get as much done as you might have liked, but for now, he doesn’t really care. not when you’re melting against him, dropping your dumb bic pen into the crease of your notebook so you can cling to him with both hands. 

   there are some days when draco thinks you love him only out of pity. he was the boy who lost himself to his feelings for you. he was the boy who came crawling back, the boy who was lost when he didn’t have you by his side. some days, draco has to ask you if you really want to be part of this relationship.

   but then you go and kiss him like this, and he is left with no doubt that you’ve meant every single “i love you.” then you go and hold his hand at the gryffindor table, smile fondly at him as he bickers with your friends, and he knows this relationship is not a chore for you. maybe, if he lets himself hope, he can convince himself that you love him as much as he loves you. 

[novasintheroom]

Hey its ray-jaykub! I saw that you did requests and i was wondering if i could get head-cannons on the turtles and what they like to do with their respective s/os

OMG I love you!!! Okay I gotta calm down hooo

Leo

·         Love love loves to carry you over rooftops and sit on high points to look over the city with you. This is one of his ways to calm down and think about things without his brothers’ around to stress him out, and having you there some nights, looking at the glitter of the lights – poetry for his heart

·         Speaking of poetry – you guys will have contests for who can make the worst poems. Just something to pass off to each other between visits, something you find in your bag or in his bed sheets. Cheesy, unrhythmic, stupid, whatever. You guys have cried laughing before b/c of this. However, every once in a while he’ll slap you with a real intimate and loving poem that just makes you melt.

·         You’ve started trying to sneak up on him. It doesn’t work. He still lets you do it, just so he can turn around and grab you at the last second. Sometimes he throws you on the nearest soft surface, sometimes he gives you a big kiss, sometimes he just starts carrying you around like a sack of potatoes – depends on his mood honestly. Your determination to spook him is cute.

·         Watching or listening to True Crime stuff becomes a quick couple’s hobby for you guys. Usually it’s playing in the background as you each do chores or work on some project, but you’ll each talk about the case throughout. You’ve hit him more than once for giving away what happened or who killed who. He’s too good at figuring this kind of stuff out!

·         He loves when you sit with him when he meditates. Even if you aren’t the meditating type, if you just sit quietly by him or read, he already feels much calmer. If he’s practicing balancing moves, he’ll sometimes grab you to hoist you up in the air, “to practice strength” at the same time. You’ve learned it’s a very bad idea to squirm when he’s got you planking above his head; he will start tickling you if you don’t keep still.

Raph

·         Once he gets a good enough disguise, he loves to ride around on his newly built motorcycle with you on the city streets. It’s fun to zip through cars and people and drive out to the sparser points of the city to watch ships come in and out of the bay or go to a park outside the city to watch the lights as they all turn on at dusk.

·         Loooovvess having movie nights with you. Seriously asks for it every week. You two get comfy on the couch with like 3 blankets thrown over your laps and watch something like Jurassic Park or Mad Max and gorge on buttery popcorn and chocolate. Sometimes you’ll slip in a chick flick like Pride and Prejudice. He acts like he doesn’t like it, but you’ve caught a goofy, happy smile on him more than once at the end of the movie, and then he starts lifting your hand like Mr. Darcy and adopting more “romantic” actions and it’s just *chef’s kiss*

·         You guys will spar together. It’s kinda required once you date him; he wants you to be able to kick butt if he can’t get to you fast enough. But these sessions usually end up with you and him wrestling/tickling each other and him holding you down with a foot while he lifts weights. Get comfy princess, he ain’t moving that foot ‘til he get 100 reps.

·         He has a really good eye for fashion and makeup. He’s actually the one that sews together all of his family’s clothes, as much as possible with the scraps they find around. It’s calming to make something instead of the stigma he has of destroying stuff. He’s the first person you SnapChat with an outfit just to make sure it looks good, and he sends back honest feedback, like “why do you still have that scarf, you know it doesn’t match anything in your closet,” or “try the red sweater with that long gold necklace you have.” Everyone compliments your outfits so much because of his input

·         Likes to go swimming with you. There’s a few clear, clean pools in the sewers (Donnie approved) where you guys go just to have a good swim. There’s usually some candles lit and music playing. More often than not, you’ll end up laying on his chest while he floats on the surface and just enjoy each other’s company. At least until he gets the idea to dunk you.

Donnie

·         Sneaking into the rafters of Broadway is a regular event for you guys. He manages to disable any security they have up around your “spot,” and you get a free show with your favorite person. He’ll be quoting his favorite lines for days after, all the while talking about the next show to see. He’d so be a theater kid if he had the chance.

·         One of the main things that got you guys together in the first place was you helping him put together tech he’s working on. It still continues now, since you have a steady hand and a willing ear to listen to his theories and ideas. You’ve even inspired him a few times with your comments! It’s a casual bonding activity for you both, and he values your thoughts.

·         Spontaneous dances are a must. Sometimes he’ll grab you and dance around the room – especially if an experiment of his goes well – sometimes it’ll be goofy dances to see how badly you two can embarrass anyone looking, and other times, you guys will just slow dance before you leave, just as a way to be close before having to part.

·         You guys form your own little potted plant collection in the lair. It’s both a hobby, and a way for you to check on how he’s doing. If he’s doing well, the plants are watered and taken care of. If he’s getting sucked into things and forgetting to care for himself, the plants suffer. He tries to get an auto-watering system for them, but you shut that down quick. It’s good to do some things yourself rather than rely on technology!

·         Cupcake Saturdays are a thing. He’ll take you to a bakery, where you’ll go in and get a box of cupcakes (extra frosting). You guys will then just chow down on them on the rooftop, often with him licking a lot of the frosting off the cupcakes before eating the actual “cake” part.

Mikey

·         Such a fan of trying every new restaurant you can find in NYC. It’s become a date-night tradition every Thursday to either order or pick up some hole-in-the-wall place’s food, meet up somewhere, and Gordon Ramsay the crap out of the food. He does a mean Ramsay impression, and you’ve snorted more than one ramen noodle out of your nose from laughing so hard.

·         If you aren’t a fan of video games, you will be once you date this guy. It’s not even just watching or playing video games with him, he’s just funny when he plays! He’ll make the most stupid comments about something going on in the storyline, or mess around, even glitch out a game. He’s managed to get out of the maps of Among Us more than once. You’re convinced if he started his own YouTube gaming channel, he’d be a quick star.

·         Game nights are a must for you guys. It usually turns into a family game night with you, the turtles, Splinter, April and Casey, which Mikey just adores because he gets to see everyone he loves having fun. You two will usually team up against the others, or turn on each other to stab the other in the back. Uno and Cover Your Assets have made you guys question your loyalty to each other more than once. That Uno Reverse card, man…

·         Arts and crafts are his favorite. Anytime a holiday is coming up, Mikey gets hyped ‘cause he knows you guys are gonna start making decorations for it. You guys will usually make decorations for each other. Mikey loves this, just because he feels like a normal person by having actual Halloween decorations around the lair instead of stuff he and his bros scraped together off the streets.

·         Loves to stargaze with you in the summer time. He’ll convince Donnie to let him drive the truck out of the city to the countryside of New York, bring you with him, and set up on the roof of the truck in the middle of a field (that he totally didn’t crash through a wood fence to get to). Fireflies will fly over your faces, and he’ll joke that they’re shooting stars and make a thousand and one wishes on each of them. He won’t tell you that all of those wishes are for you and him to be together forever, but it’s not hard to guess with how mushy he gets after each one.

[slasherscream]

A/N: couldn’t stop being haunted by this idea so here’s a carrie white imagine. concept? you’re a poet/avid poem reader and fall in love with the sweet, quiet girl named carrie who is your friend’s roommate.

                          You’d been upset that you hadn’t managed to get paired with your best friend as roommates in the campus dorms.

You two had applied to colleges together, not wanting to be separated just because you were entering a new chapter of your lives. You wanted to take this first huge step into adulthood together. 

You tried not to pout as you began to settle yourself into your own dorm room, your own roommate not yet arrived. You managed to unpack about half your things before your focus was overcome by the lethal combination of nervousness and excitement. Luckily you didn’t have to deal with your feelings alone.

Though you weren’t going to be sharing a dorm room you still happened to be on the same floor as your best friend, only a few doors away (for all your complaining you could’ve gotten it worse and not even been in the same building.)

Happily you bounded down the hall and without thinking threw open the door to your best friend’s room, mouth already forming their name in what was practically a shout. It died suddenly on your lips as you met the wide-eyed stare of a tiny, startled looking blonde. 

You nearly trip over your own feet in embarrassment. Your friend is already laughing at you from where they sit cross-legged on their bed, perfectly content in the familiarity of you making a fool of yourself, “Perfect timing as usual, we were just talking about you. Y/N       this is Carrie White." 

Carrie White, you quickly learn, is not really a people person. She’s friendly enough, and clearly sweet, but more than both those things she’s painfully shy. Shyer than anyone you’ve ever met before and you just came from high-school, a certified pit full of teenagers too nervous to ever assert themselves or be themselves.

To Carrie’s credit she is being herself, that much you can tell. She just seems…. afraid. Head down, hands fidgeting and tugging at clothes that were immaculate at the start of the day and wrinkled by the end of it from her unending fretting, arms always kept close to her body.

The way she held her already tiny stature made it seem as if she could blow away in the wind. Whenever you observed her, which was often, it looked like she wanted to melt into walls to avoid being so much as glanced at, as if the feeling of eyes on her skin was akin to someone putting out a cigarette on the side of her cheek.

You shared a lot of classes with her, both being freshmen. You found yourself gravitating towards her. Though she always seemed ready to bolt like a nervous horse you tried to engage her in whatever way you could. 

Part of you felt bad for her. You had come here with a confidence that came only with knowing someone you loved would be nearby, ready to catch you when you’d need it. It was terribly clear to you, somehow, that Carrie didn’t have that. You couldn’t imagine being completely alone in a new place. So you tried to make it as if she weren’t.

You became a fixture in Carrie’s life, much to her confusion.

You walked to and from classes with her, even the ones you didn’t share with one another. You were mindful of her quiet nature but constantly tried to engage her in conversation or learn something about her.

When you’d come to the dorm room she shared with your best friend the two of you actively tried to include her if she wasn’t studying, sometimes you even tried to distract her when she was, claiming she needed to take more breaks. You would bring her snacks you’d noticed she liked if you knew she hadn’t been out of her room for one reason or another. 

She had built up a lot of walls for her own safety regarding other people, she’d learned the hard way how they would hurt you if given the chance, but something about you was honest and good. She didn’t know if she was that great at judging the characters of others but she hoped desperately that you were as good on the inside as you were on the outside. She basked in your little kindnesses and freely given attention all while expecting the rug to be ripped out from underneath her. 

After just shy of a year even her heart, with its well built defenses, were weakened significantly by your gentle persistence. She didn’t think anyone would bother getting close to someone for months upon months just with the intention of hurting them. Even after all she’d been through somehow she still couldn’t imagine a cruelness like that living inside a person. 

"What are you reading?” she hardly ever began any interaction with you, instead always choosing to follow your lead, to talk or move or laugh at your cues.

“Some poetry. Would you like to read it with me?” You couldn’t help but grin at her, shocked that she’d approached you all on her own. After a moment of hesitation she sat down beside you and you tilted the book so she would be able to read along with you. So began a tradition. 

Carrie apparently hadn’t been allowed to read much literature growing up but she developed a thirst for it  quickly once exposed. You’d finally found something to bond over, something that made her speak up and let herself be heard.

You began to fall in love with her as you’d stay up late into the night talking about the themes of this book, or the romantic chemistry between the leads of a classic. Carrie had a soft spot for romantic classics. You began to pick up more of them for her and each one she eagerly devoured. You realized what a secret romantic she was as you watched her sigh dreamily as her eyes skimmed over the pages of Romeo and Juliet. You don’t know why you were so surprised by this. Carrie was a tender soul through and through.

It wasn’t long until you realized you were falling in love, which terrified you. It had taken so long for Carrie to even open up to you as a friend. You couldn’t imagine what she’d do if you confessed to her. Probably fly away like a scared bird, never to be seen again. 

So you couldn’t confess, you might be in love with her but you also loved her as a friend and if that was all you could be with her you’d take it gladly. Still, there were a lot of feelings in your heart. Too many, honestly, for you to keep bottled up. 

But then you were struck by the brilliant idea of being something of a secret admirer. That way you could tell Carrie how you felt but without any pressure on either one of you. You started off small, slipping pretty sheets of pink paper covered in even prettier words under her doorway. 

For the first few weeks after you began to give her notes she seemed on edge, eyes always drifting this way and that, as if looking for someone. You smiled to yourself knowing the reason why. Eventually, as time went on, she seemed to relax into the idea of being secretly adored, yearned after. You made it a point in your letters to tell her all the reasons she deserved to be loved, while making sure it wasn’t obvious you were behind the letters of course.

“I have hunger for your mouth, for your voice, for your hair.” you would write one day. And for the next, “I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed & that necessary.” Carrie smiled more sweetly and fully these days. Her walk ever so slightly more confident, knowing that at least someone thought she was beautiful and sweet and wonderful. Of course things couldn’t go on so perfectly forever. No luck was that good. 

Carrie had felt a little sick and decided to skip her last class of the day, a testament to how bad she was feeling. As she turned the corner she saw you bent down outside the front of her door, a familiar looking envelope in your hands. She couldn’t help the gasp that she let out and immediately your head snapped up to look at her. 

You both stood there frozen and gaping at one another before you slowly stood up, looking sheepish. “Well        I hope you’ve been liking your letters.”

Carrie doesn’t quite know what to say. Her first instinct is to believe that you’ve been playing a trick on her. You and your friend laughing behind her back that she could believe anyone would ever wax poetry about her, compare her eyes to the blue of the sky or her freckles to beloved, unknown constellations. But you looked genuinely distraught, hands clutching the envelope so hard it was crumpling in your hands. 

“It’s you?” Is all Carrie can manage to say but the simple words are loaded with all sorts of meaning anyways. 

“It’s me.” You sigh, “I’m sorry, Carrie. I’m probably not what you’ve been expecting. I just didn’t know what to do about how I feel about you and this seemed….easier." 

"Feel about me?" 

"Don’t act so shocked, I’ve been telling you how much I love you for months now.” Carrie’s heart soars as the words fall from your lips. No one had ever told her they loved her before, not even her Mother. They were the most beautiful words she’d ever heard. All of your letters, beautifully and carefully written as they were, couldn’t compare to those three simple words.

“You mean that?” at her question you finally meet her eyes with a fierce look in your own and defensively shoot back a “Of course I mean that." 

You’d never known Carrie White to be rash, it’s why you’re so surprised when you suddenly find yourself with your arms full of her and soft lips pressed innocently to your own.

Her hands are on either side of your face, keeping you still like she’s afraid you might pull back at any second. She doesn’t seem to know how to kiss exactly. Her lips are firmly pressed against yours but almost completely still for a long time, when she pulls away it’s only to kiss you again but this time the way you would kiss someone’s cheek. Your heart nearly bursts as you take in the blush on her cheeks. 

You don’t realize how long you stand there staring at her but she must take your stunned, happy silence as something else entirely because she begins to pull away. She doesn’t get far before you’re tugging her back against your body, gently. Tilting your forehead against hers you smile at her softly, "If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving be me.” speaking the lines of poetry you’ve so carefully memorized out loud is enough to make you dizzy with bashfulness but the expression on Carrie’s face before she leans in to kiss you again makes it well worth it.

[purplesurveys]

1275

When you were younger, did your mother or father ever let you open a few presents before Christmas or your birthday even arrived?  We open all our presents the night of Christmas Eve to begin with; but no, they don’t tease by letting us open a few of them before our usual schedule.

If you could receive a 100 dollar gift card for either blouses, pants, dresses, shoes or purses, which would you chose?  If I could change blouses to shirts, then I would go with that because I’ve recently gotten into t-shirts and sweatshirts and no longer the trendy and preppy tops I used to like haha. But if not, I would go for shoes.

What is your favorite thing to do after crying? Ex: Sleep, listen to music, have some alone time, talk to someone, etc?  It varies as it depends on how much I cried. The harder I cried the more I’d want to sleep it off, because it can actually get pretty exhausting. Sometimes I’ll reach out, sometimes I write. It’s really different every time, but at the end I’m just glad I can no longer even remember the last time I cried out of sadness.

Do you think Trump will be assassinated, or will he survive his term?  Well we know the answer to this. It’s satisfying to notice him disappear off the face of the Earth immediately after his term, though. I don’t have a clue what he’s up to now.

Last time you felt suicidal?  For some reason I felt down last Thursday and I felt the slightest, slightest tinge of suicidal thoughts. No idea where it came from.

Last time you had butterflies?  Ugh idk but it was probably BTS-related hahahahahahah

Biggest asshole you know?  Certain politicians.

Did you ever leave someone because you know you’d hurt them?  No, I was on the opposite side of the coin for this one. I was broken up with because they believed they would hurt me, if not already doing so.

What song did you last listen to?  Hip Hop Phile by BTS.

Ever ridden in a police car?  Nopes.

Ever witnessed a murder?  Hmm, not that I can recall. I do remember having to monitor crime stories for one of my very first journalism assignments and the one time I didn’t tag along to the fieldwork with my classmates, they got to witness a stabbing incident :/ By itself of course it always sucks to have violent situations like those, but as a reporter it would’ve been interesting to see the scene and its aftermath.

Have you ever lied under oath?  I don’t think so, no. I can’t even remember the last time I was put under oath.

Have you ever failed a subject before? I’ve failed exams but never an entire class.

Have you ever had a deadly animal as a pet?  No.

Have you ever kissed someone of the same gender?  Well yeah, I dated one.

Have you ever been in a hot tub before?  Sure.

Have you ever been to a movie that sold out?  I’ve never experienced trying to buy tickets only to find out they’re all sold out, but that’s also probably because we have hundreds of malls in Manila alone and you can always find a theatre that are still offering tickets.

What movie last made you too scared to go to sleep?  I’m not usually that way with horror movies, but I do remember running into a jumpscare on TikTok while I was scrolling at 3 AM. Not fun.

When you’re on a laptop, do you hook up a mouse or use the touchpad?  Touchpad. I never use a mouse.

What’s your mom’s mom’s name?  Agnes.

Would it be hard seeing someone else kiss the person you like?  I’m not interested in anyone so this shouldn’t be a problem.

Have you ever been tempted to steal?  Sure, but the urge is never so strong.

What is the main character’s name in the book you’re reading? I’m not reading anything.

Do you have a favorite local band? Who are they? Nah. I did have a Ben&Ben phase, though I haven’t revisited their music in a long time.

Who’s the last person you saw naked, aside from yourself?  I’m not sure about completely naked, probably still my ex. As for partially naked, my dad sometimes goes shirtless at home as most Filipino dads do lol.

Who’s your favorite horror monster/killer?  The most iconic for me would be that porcupine looking ass from Resident Evil 4, I believe it was meant to be for one of the boss stages or something. Anyway, it’s memorable for me just because that fucker had been impossible to defeat and I loved watching my older cousin do attempt after attempt. I don’t think he ever got to beat him and by the time he did us cousins were already adults, lol.

On a side note, we called him ‘Porcupine’ as kids since a shitload of spikes would stick out of him unpredictably during the boss stage, and I thought that nickname had been just our thing; but I’m actually surprised that that villain actually comes up when you do a simple ‘Resident Evil 4 porcupine’ search haha. I guess other people called him the same thing too.

What kind of music do you prefer to listen to when driving?  I usually put on a playlist of BTS’ rapline; I tend to enjoy high-energy songs while driving.

Would you ever own a hairless rat, cat or dog?  I don’t see why I wouldn’t when it comes to the dog. I don’t want a cat or rat. 

All the people you’ve kissed, what did their names start with?  G.

What did you and your ex fight about most?  It was about the deeper, more profound stuff. We never saw eye to eye about the future, if we were helping the other grow, etc. Someone was always scared or insecure about something that the other could never help with fixing.

Don’t you love long hugs?  Sure, I love getting hugs as long as I’m comfy around the one giving it.

And long kisses?  Mhm, they’re nice.

Have you ever purchased condoms?  Only for Angela when she had still been too shy to ask for it herself. 

Have you ever gone on vacation with your boyfriend/girlfriend?  No. We had gone out of town for daytrips, but never for a fully-decked out vacation.

Have you ever trashed your ex’s car after an argument?  I wouldn’t do anything that loud. My resentment’s a lot more reserved and subtle, definitely on the passive-aggressive side.

Would you leave a note on a car claiming responsibility if you damaged it?  If I left like a paint scratch, no. If I was somehow stupid enough to manage wrecking the car then yes.

Have you ever used someone's handicapped parking pass to get a parking spot?  Oh that’s just gross. No. I do remember unknowingly parking over a spot meant for the handicapped once just because the paint was so fucking faded. It was genuinely so hard to tell but in the end I ended up just getting out of the spot and looked for another just to be on the safe, unassholey side.

Are you embarrassed to tell people your job?  Not at all! I love telling people I work in PR and sharing the brands I work with...it’s just a bitch trying to explain what exactly it is I do on a normal day. I’m still blanking out on it now that I’m thinking about it, haha. PR’s a challenge to summarize in one or two sentences.

If you ran over an animal would you keep driving?  I honestly have no clue how I’d deal with it. Ideally I would pull over and help bring it to the side of the road, and try to ask for help from passersby as well. I’m still not sure what I should/would do next.

Where’s the best place to eat a romantic dinner?  French, Spanish, and Italian restaurants always seem to carry a pleasant, date-y atmosphere to them, so any of those cuisines should be ok. I also like quieter restaurants with warm yellow lighting, since that makes me feel at home the most. The place definitely doesn't have to be super popular; I would just want for it to serve good food.

What hobby would you get into if time and money weren’t an issue?  Flying planes.

What would be the most amazing adventure to go on?  Probably something that’s booked with thrill-seeking adventures? Like a day of wakeboarding, paragliding, skydiving, riding an ATV...I would be exhausted as fuck and sleep for the next three days, but I can’t even begin to imagine how fun it would be.

When people come to you for help, what do they usually want help with? Writing stuff. < Yeah, essentially. My friends ask me for general life advice too.

Has anybody criticized the way your significant other looked like?  Yeah. But I always defended her.

Have you written or drawn anything for somebody else?  I mean I’ve written long letters, but I haven’t made a poem or song for anyone.

Who has impressed you most with what they’ve accomplished?  These days it would probably be Arlan. He just finished his Masters in Journalism at Columbia and I couldn’t be more proud. I remember wanting to attend Columbia too, but seeing how my love of journalism turned out...I’ve long accepted the fact that that route was not meant for me, hahaha.

What is something you think everyone should do at least once in their lives?  Finish a painting, which can also serve as a callout to me lol.

What would you rate 10/10?  Seafood.

What do you hope never changes?  My relationships with my best friends.

Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted?  No, I barely have a clue who she is and she seemed decades older when she called me up this morning.

Is there anyone that you’d love to just spill your guts to?  I’m good.

Where is the person you have feelings at right now? 

Are you happy with your relationship status?  Yessssssss. I love not having to worry about another person to spend on LOL

When did you last cry? What for?  Two Saturdays ago. The one-year mark of my breakup had been coming up and an overwhelming wave of emotions just flooded me all of a sudden, I guess. There was happiness and relief from not being stuck in it anymore; feeling sorry for myself as I remembered the turmoil and deterioration I went through in the latter part the year; anger for the shit she pulled; and there was also just the general feeling of being grateful that I’m still here after everything.

Do you think you’re wasting your time on the person you love? 

When’s the next time you’ll kiss someone?  No clue. I’m not holding my breath for it and that’s okay.

Were you ever scared to death of anyone you knew? Or are you currently?  Yeah, unfortunately I’ve always been surrounded by at least one person who terrifies me.

What’s the longest you’ve been away from home by yourself?  Nothing more than a day. That’s something I have yet to try out.

Have you ever been made fun of, because of what you look like?  Athenna was relentless in her insults. I dunno why I was friends her for as long as I was.

Have you ever made fun of others, because of what they look like?  If they’re some random person on the internet with disgusting political views, then yeah; but it’s just thoughts I keep in my head and I never verbalized the bullying. But not anyone in real life. Do you think it’s cute when you’re leaving a place, and a guy says “no hug?”  If I’m friends with the person I’ll banter with them for a bit until I give in for a hug. If it was any other guy I barely know...I would be disgusted and throw them the dirtiest glare.

Do you wear short shorts (if you’re a girl)? I didn't know short shorts were specific to females. < LOL same. Anyway no, not these days. I used to but they’re not really a part of my personal style anymore.

Who are you the most uncomfortable around?  Relatives with the wrong political views.

Who has your heart?  Nobody.

Should cloning ever be allowed to happen?  I don’t see the point. No.

Are you impatient with really shy people? If it gets to the point that they seem aloof and radiate very I-could-not-care-less-about-getting-along-with-any-of-you vibes, then yeah I feel like I would get irritated pretty fast. But I was an extremely shy person once too, so I’m typically friendly with them and I would usually be That person who constantly stays next to them so they feel like they belong.

Does your house have air conditioning throughout, or do you have one that sits in your window?  It sits in the window, as with most households here.

What is the most ridiculous band name you’ve heard recently?  I haven’t encountered anything wacky recently.

Would you ever get a fashion mullet?  No.

Do you believe that Jesus lived and is returning?  No.

Do you believe in spiritual gifts?  No.

Do you believe in callings?  Not really, no.

If you were rich, would you get a professional photoshoot done?  Hell no. I get extremely sheepish in front of a camera and a thousand times worse at posing.

[wolfpawn]

Once Bitten Twice Shy, Chapter 17

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary -  Mark's wedding comes and Paige and Tom face a new challenge.

Tag, @wolfsmom1 @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @damalseer @nonsensicalobsessions  @standing-onthe-edge @hiddlesbitch1

anyone else who wishes to be added to the tags, just ask :)

Tom could see why Paige warned him about Fiona’s family. They were a lot like how his family was but the other way around, in that in his family Uncle George was the only ass, in her family, Fiona seemed to be the only nice one. They clearly saw themselves as better than the Winters’ family as their money was longer in the family whilst Paige’s parents had been born to very modest homes, but Tom, they seemed to feel was more to their standard. He looked at Paige who was smirking at him as he listened to an overdramatic sister of Fiona’s who seemed adamant to inform him as many times as was humanly possible, that she was going to make it as a model any day now and more importantly, she was a better partner to have than Paige, more in keeping with his place in society. Tom did everything in his power not to laugh in her face, which was a difficult ask considering he had heard her speaking throughout the meal and to say they were not compatible was an understatement. His years of training as an actor never felt more required than when she said that. When she stated that Paige was boring and unexciting, he stopped her with the statement that if she was such, then he was even more so. She ceased her attention to him after that.

“Dare I ask?”

He turned to see Paige standing behind him after he tried to flee to the bathrooms.

“Caroline...I think?”

“It’s Carolina. She was Carol but it wasn’t fancy enough for the world of high-fashion so she changed it.” Paige laughed. “So, what did Carolina do or say to make you try and break into the ladies bathroom?”

Tom looked at the door and sure enough, the symbol of a woman was there. “Shit...Only how we are so well suited and to ditch you.”

“Odd, she said that when she met Derek too. Though going by the comments she said both at the time and after I dumped him, I think he got a sniff, if not the full shag out of her.”

“Wonderful individual by all accounts then?”

“I am just grateful that I didn’t catch anything from him as a result of everything,” Paige sighed. “That would have been only icing on the cake.”

Tom gently rubbed her hand. “Don’t, don’t think such terrible thoughts right now. Not on the night before your brother’s wedding. Not on such a joyous occasion.”

“You’re right. You’re a hundred per cent right. What would I do without you?” She smiled.

Tom gave a small smile and looked away, not trusting himself not to say anything.

*

When the end of the night came, Tom put his arm around Paige’s waist as they said goodbye, promising to be ready on time in the morning as they did. When they got to the room, they both prepared for bed, both having brought sleepwear as they both knew that at the very least, they would be sharing a room.

“Those look brand new.” Paige laughed as Tom attempted to find the tie for his sleep pants.

“They are. I don’t own too much bedwear,” Tom admitted before looking at her with a raised brow, seeing her in some form of cartoon nightclothes that he was sure his sisters liked as children.

“Judge me, I don’t care.” Paige shrugged as she walked over to her side of her bed and got in. “I will probably crash quickly enough. You don’t need to worry if you want to continue reading or anything. I am not bothered by lights and such,” She assured him as she got into the bed.

“Honestly, I am similar. I had a long week, as I told you already.”

“You should have just gotten some rest, flying to China to the US and then back for this. It’s madness.”

“I wanted to get Bobby ready for quarantine. Besides, how could I ever decline a chance to see what I am missing with Carolina.”

Paige snorted in laughter. “So true.”

Tom smiled as he saw her get comfortable. He watched as she got her book, one of short poems and began reading. He got into the bed too and groaned as he felt his aching muscles from all his travels begin to rest on the mattress.

“You sound like you need this,” Paige commented. “I’m sorry you don’t get to relax fully and instead have me here, annoying you.”

“Darling, the last thing you could ever be accused of being is annoying. No, trust me. Through the years, I have had some annoying bedmates and you don’t even register on the scale.”

Paige turned to look at him. “Okay, I need to know what sort of madness you are referencing. Please tell me it is not just crazy-ex stories?”

“No, all the madness of this job. There was a time during the Thor, Ragnarok tour that I slept on the sofa part of a small airplane groin to ass with Taika Waititi.” She snorted in laugher at that. “Then there was a time when I went away with the college drama society and I drank myself into a stupor, as did everyone else, because, of course, you know…”

“Par for the course.”

“Exactly. Well, I woke up the next day, close to death, in Edinburgh.”

“Where did you start?”

“Manchester.”

Paige laughed but shook her head. “Not the worst.”

“Really? Look, I know I was out of college the time of that infamous urban myth of the Cambridge drama society weekend but this, at least, was real.”

“So was the Cambridge DramSoc weekend,” Paige argued.

“No it wasn’t,” Tom scoffed before he realised her face was entirely stoic. “Was it?”

“Friday afternoon, drinks in the college bar, three am, I am wandering around Amsterdam looking for a place to crash for the night and ringing my Dad to give me his credit card number so I can stay in a hostel with a few of my mates,” Paige informed him.

“Fuck off.” Tom became far more animated at her admitting such. “How did you all get there, what the Hell were you all doing?”

“So, drinking, obviously. And then Brianna, the Soc secretary started giving out that she never got onto the continent, so Piotr, one of the exchange students was saying how England knew how to drink, but the Netherlands knew how to party, and to this day, I have no idea who suggested he put his money where his mouth was but somehow, I am giving my date of birth and associated details to Jack, our society chair and getting a fucking flight from London to Schipol. Cheap EU flights were a dangerous thing.”

“But...We always thought…”

“You thought wrong.”

Tom stared at her in disbelief. “And that bastard had the audacity to accuse you of being boring?”

“Because I was young and stupid when I was young; when it came time to consider being a responsible adult, I was actually looking forward to being such. I had my ridiculous time, I had time to figure me out and what I wanted, and now I get to do exactly that, whatever that entails. Hence why I am not ever bothered too greatly by silly things.”

“You are to be commended,” Tom commented. “If not slightly mental, Amsterdam?”

“We ended up staying the weekend, it was lovely.”

“You are insane.”

“And proudly so.” Yawning slightly, Paige turned and started to settle to go to sleep.

Tom, taking her cue, did similar, laying back and reading a little before trying to get comfortable himself, not wanting to keep her awake with his reading or light.

Through the night, neither slept much. Both facing the opposite wall to one another, their backs almost touching and the heat of the other clear to feel. They both moved very little through the night, both conscious of the other behind them, not certain if the other was awake but both thinking the exact same thing, if they should say anything of their feelings to the other. Not crippled by the fear of their past experience and the rejection of one they loved.

*

The next day was as most every wedding was. Nothing overly exciting in the grander scheme of things. Paige joked and smiled with Fiona through the times she was required to assist in her bridesmaid's duties but the rest of the time she stayed close to Tom, knowing how awkward it was to be a plus one at an event and nothing was worse than being one at a place where you knew no one else.

When Tom bumped into Mark during the evening, both of them in good humour and a couple of drinks in. Mark embraced him as Tom congratulated him.

"I spent too long farting about. I should have asked her ages ago. I was lucky. Not everyone is as lucky. Take you, for example, farting around Paige."

Tom looked around, slightly worried that they would be overheard.

"Taking so long to ask Paige out, I mean, I thought I was bad." Mark kept his comments fairly vague purposely and Tom noted such too.

"I…"

"No, really. Not realising she felt the same and whatnot. If it wasn't heartbreaking to watch, then it would have been hilarious."

Tom frowned.

"I better get back to my wife, Jesus, it's odd calling her that." There was a surprised smile on Mark's face at his small revelation. "And you better get back to Paige, especially if Carol is about. She likes to try and get her claws into other women's partners if they are dumb enough to allow her to or try and imply she did with the ones that decline her and the added thing where she would brag you more than others and probably more publicly too. Honestly, I don't know you deal this sort of shit."

"It's sadly par for the course with my life these days. Honestly, I never thought it would come to this. It's a tad overwhelming, even for me," Tom sighed rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not fair to expect others to endure that for me."

"Yet when someone loves you, then endure it willingly."

Tom said nothing as Mark slapped him playfully on the chest before saying his farewells and heading back to find Fiona.

Tom thought over his words for a moment, both of how Mark felt that perhaps Paige could feel something more got him but also of the madness that was his life and how it was wrong to expect anyone to endure that for him, when he spent so much time working and knowing she would forever have to concern herself with wondering if he would do as her ex had done and cheat on her. She tried to act as though it didn't bother her but there was no denying she had been affected by it. It would never be fair to expect her to endure his work life.

He went back to Paige who was talking with her parents. He had to remind himself that this was all a charade when he wanted nothing more than to show her the affection he so desperately wished to bestow on her. While he sat with her and her parents, he felt as though it was organic, that there was no falseness to how they interacted, making it all the harder when he had to remind himself that her smiles and other acts of affection were merely put on.

When the wedding had come to a close and time came to rest, they bid farewell to her brother, her now sister-in-law and her parents before going back to their shared room.

“Thank you.” Tom glanced at Paige as she walked out of the bathroom in her nightclothes. “For coming to this. You really are incredible and the greatest company. I will be lost when you go to New York.”

Tom swallowed as he thought of the soon-to-be future. “I know the feeling. I will miss our talks.”

“Just remember, I am often reachable if you want to talk. If I go into a writing flow though, please don’t hold it against me.”

“How is the book going?”

“It isn’t.”

“Oh, everything alright?”

Paige could not answer immediately, to say things were fine was a barefaced lie, to say no opened her to admit that she had a countdown on her wall to the day he was leaving and when she looked at it, it made her feel like she was shot in the stomach to think he would leave and she would be alone again. “Writing inspiration comes and goes. I simply have to embrace whatever happens.” It took more than she was willing to admit to keep her voice steady as she said the second sentence. It was as much about the current situation as it was about her writing. Feeling her throat get tight, she cleared it and went to her side of the bed.

Tom, sensing the tension, went into the bathroom to ready himself for bed. When he came back out, having decided to try and speak about what Mark had said and with the few drinks he had giving him courage, he looked at Paige but noticed her even breathing and thought her to be asleep.

As he got into his side of the bed, Paige did everything in her power to keep her breathing steady as she willed her tears to stay at bay.

[measuringlife]

Measuring Monday: Daddy

Tumblr has been my quiet safe space for 8 years. This has been a place to grieve and be vulnerable. Much of what I compiled below for this week’s Measuring Monday was already written and shared here over the years. Only now am I beginning to share my writing more publicly and I am thankful for the space and community here when I was less brave.

The world lost a great man 11 years ago yesterday. My world especially got a lot dimmer and for sure a lot less funny.

My Dad was awesome. He was born in Brooklyn and raised on Long Island in the same town I grew up in. He was the first in his family to attend and graduate college (with an Art degree) and after being a hippie in Southern California for a few wanderlust months he went back for a Masters in Education.

My Dad was an art teacher in a low income, minority school district and he LOVED IT. He spent his ENTIRE 33-year career in the district. After teaching for 20ish years he went on to administration. He was a middle school assistant principal for a number of years and then a high school assistant principal for a number of years. They wanted him to be principal, but he didn’t want to deal with politics.

When I was in first grade my Dad started a Saturday enrichment program for K-12 students, he ran the program for 12 years. Some of my favorite childhood memories were from that program. My Dad also piloted a night school program within the school district so people could get their HS diplomas. My Dad was a pretty big deal in the K-12 Education world. Even after he retired he couldn’t stay away. The last year of his life he was teaching in an education certificate program at a Dallas Community College. My Dad was great at what he did.

We shared a love of many, many things, especially musicals. RENT was one of our favorites and after he died “Seasons of Love” took on a new meaning. I’m measuring those years within my “dash” (it’s a great poem if you are not familiar, look it up) in daylights - in sunsets - in midnights - in cups of coffee - in inches - in miles - in laughter - in strife and more.  Back in January 2010, a friend of mine challenged me to measure my year in cups of coffee, which lead to measuring my miles, my body, my health and the rest is history. I get a lot of joy and satisfaction in measuring my life. It makes life seem a little more permanent and a little less fleeting at times.

The last 3-4 years of his life I pretty much talked to my Dad every day, even multiple times a day. Since he was retired he was available to talk whenever. I generally would call him when I was walking to and from class in grad school. Even if it was just a few minutes we’d have a great chat. I can honestly say we were best friends. There are still times when I wish I had my Dad to call.

Our last day was a fabulous Daddy-Daughter day - we were dorks and really called them that. Little did I know that a week later he would be taken from me. I was living in North Texas at the time, 5 months into my first job out of grad school and I was going through a rocky patch. My Dad lived 2.5 hours away in Dallas and wanted to come up for the day to cheer me up. Plus my he was having gastric bypass surgery that Thursday and I really wanted to see him before then.

Part of the reason I moved to Texas was to be closer to my Dad. My parents got divorced after my freshman year of high school and he stayed local, but once I went to college we never lived in the same state. I was in Connecticut and he was in New York or Florida or Texas. I saw my Dad so much in those 5 months we both lived in Texas it was wonderful, some of our best times. I had a lot of ups and downs with my Dad, but our last few months were so much fun.

That last time we hung out I drove up to Oklahoma so we could go to the casino and play some slot machines. Well on the 20-mile drive to Oklahoma I get pulled over on a Sunday afternoon for doing 77 in a 70. I honestly wasn’t aware of my speed because it was an open road and because my Dad and I were singing along to the Aida soundtrack on the top of our lungs. I was so upset about the ticket, but my Dad comforted me and made me feel better, he always did. After the casino, we came back to my apartment, rearranged furniture, and just hung out.

I didn’t want him to leave. I had a sinking feeling about everything. That was the day he told me he was getting gastric bypass over a lap band. I wasn’t a fan of his decision to have either surgery, particularly not gastric bypass. He was 6'2 and 300-325 pounds MAYBE. He has lost 100 pounds through diet and exercise when I was in high school and he kept it off for 8 years before quickly gaining it back after he retired. I was disappointed that he was resorting to surgery. He had been talking about lap band for 6 months and talked to many doctors, went to consults etc. Then within a week of his surgery, his doctor talks him into gastric bypass.

His surgery was Thursday, a week before Thanksgiving. 3 days later that Sunday morning, November 18, 2017, my phone rings at 6:30am. I knew before I answered the phone that he was dead. He was still in the hospital and he essentially bled out internally. A blood transfusion and proper care could have saved his life. I was 2.5 hours away in North Texas not having been fully informed or able to fully comprehend post-op complications and too naive to realize I needed to come down. No twentysomething really thinks their Dad is going to die. I had just spent the prior Sunday with him and was scheduled to come down to Dallas Tuesday for the night before flying to NY for Thanksgiving.

I was devastated, I still am. My whole entire world forever changed. Everything about that day and the weeks and months that followed, including a failed wrongful death lawsuit due to the Texas good old boys club, was a nightmare. I sometimes wish I could “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” much of it.

He was 58, I was 24, and my sister was not quite 22. None of us were ready for him to be gone forever. My sister and I had already lost him once in 1998 when my parents separated and he moved out. To quote a friend who wrote about her Dad on his one year anniversary “I feel both lucky to have had my dad for so many years and angry that he was taken from me when I and he were too young. If I know anything better today than I did last year, it is exactly how complicated and messy life and death and grief are.”

My story is a complicated one on many levels. It’s a lot to bear, especially around the Holidays. Family drama and a Mother that I have a terrible relationship with makes things extra hard. There is no winning with her ever, my Dad was one of the few who really understood. I miss having him on my team. The sad reality is the 11 years that he’s been gone have also led to the 11 worst years in my relationship with my mom. A relationship that was rocky to begin with due to her alcoholism and emotional abuse.

The complications of life and death and grief were something I wasn’t expecting and it really causes tremendous pain. However, out of tragedy, I was finally able to find the motivation to get healthy and fit. I did the work, no shortcuts, no fad diets, and most importantly no surgery.

To quote a message from another friend years ago, about losing her mom, "Sometimes it takes the death of a loved one to wake us up. I consider that a lasting gift from my parent.” I found such comfort and hope in those words. My Daddy didn’t need that surgery and didn’t need to die. Sadly he did, but I refuse to let my weight control my life. I also couldn’t have his death be in vain. So in 2010, I started running, I took charge of my health. I also started fundraising for Accelerate Brain Cancer Cure (ABC2) since most people who have lost loved ones find solace in charity work and there wasn’t a community for my loss out there. So I adopted David Cook’s charity of choice since watching American Idol during those dark months that followed helped me get through each week.

And here I am 11 years later and in the best shape of my life thus far. I thank my Dad for that lasting gift no matter how painful it’s been. I only wish he was here to see me now and the wonderful all-around person I am today.

I’ll leave you with this. One quote I remember my Dad telling to me in a time of struggle in my life was, “Plant your own garden instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.” That quote has meant so much to me over the years. YOU only have one life and YOU need to make the most of out of, right now.

Love you Daddy.

RDJ 4/25/49-11/18/07

[isakwon]

Coffee Bean Part 2

 Part 1

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Genre: Fluff with some angst

Original Gif: BlondeJongin

Summary:  It is said that the string of Fate can never be tangled, make annoying knots, or ever break. But can it be untied from one person at the end?

A/N: I know this is pretty late, this was supposed to be posted at 9 p.m. and since I went into work early, “tonight” ended up being tomorrow (today). It’s nearly 1 a.m. now, I’m listening to “The Women of Hamilton” while eating mac and cheese, ready to post this drabble. Honestly nothing satisfies me more than right now…besides sleep for my brain of course. Anyway! Please enjoy!

“Cada latido prometio, que ibas estar siempre con migo.” -Alejandro Fernandez

________

   That morning Jongin spends his time in the kitchen preparing breakfast by himself. He woke up early enough to make a traditional Korean brunch, confident from the start however midway into action he wakes Yixing up in need of his assistance. Much to his surprise, Jongin had ingredients were cluttered all atop of the counter.

  As he cleans, Yixing utters complaints through his teeth. Once the kitchen mostly cleaned up, the other gentleman greet one another the main room all in their boxers and T-shirts.

“Y/N isn’t here.” Minseok leans against the doorway sipping on a glass of juice. Sehun perks his head and ears. “But she just got here yesterday, and it’s eight a.m.”

 “I know, I just passed by the room she was sleeping in to say good morning but it was empty.”

   Y/N used to pull all nighters back in the day. Whenever the boys dropped by her condo they always find her in the same positions. Seated on her couch with a coffee and script in hand or outside admiring the sunset with just coffee.

 She loved sleep but never liked getting up before the peak of sunrise. In result for any typical night owl, her body always sprawled on her bed tangled in sheets,  wetting the pillow with fresh drool.

Kyungsoo unlocks his phone to contact her.

 She despised the sun for shining on her face through the curtains.

“She went to go see Chanyeol.” Everyone looks at Sehun whose serving food on plates. “That’s it, I bet that’s why Y/N left early. That’s the only reason.” His actions grow furiously on the rice, the clatter of bowls filling up the house. “She would rather find him than have breakfast with us after years of being overseas.”

  “Sehun, will you relax? Y/N wouldn’t be desperate enough to fly all the way here and search the whole country for one guy.”

  “Actually she did.” The boys give Baekhyun their attention hearing the bang of his mug on the table locked within strong fingers. waiting for sitting in his chair scratching the back of his ear. “She left very early while we were asleep.”

He purses his lips.

“But you were still awake to hear her leave?” Kyunsoo asks.  “No, I wasn’t awake either.” Baekhyun reminds himself of the night before, the minute before Y/N lays on the bed he held her shoulder and Y/N grabbing his fingers without turning around. ‘I had no idea’

_____

 “But you’re not mine.”

You sat at the same coffee table you and Chanyeol used to sit together. He wore a white sweater and a black hat, his ears pointed out. He gives you a smile showing a bit of his darn eye bags. The coffee cup in your hand was already half full of mocha, his didn’t move it stayed in front of you.  Chanyeol’s eyes linger the side of your face, noticing the glow flashing off your cheekbones.

  “Besides if I ever told you would it have made you panic and run?”

 Chanyeol huffs a smirk “From you Y/N, not this time.”  He lips make the shape of an upside down crescent that automatically brings a shy smile on you, your cheeks burn at the top of their bones.  “If I were to run, I wouldn’t be here asking you to say it then now would I?”

   Your hand caress atop his large hands envelope around yours. This was a huge step..

   “Can I start with the beginning? Like when I first saw you?”

  His thumb grazes yours again. “Yeah?…”

   You bit your nails, played with your hair, checked the time, and drank your coffee to calm your heart beating erratically in your chest.

  “Miss, are you waiting for someone?” You turn your head alertly to a male barista.

“Oh, actually…” You quickly scan the cafe. “I was, but I guess they forgot. Please excuse me.” You grab everything, still holding the cup. “Thank you very much uh, Lu.”

 With that you drink the last gulp of the now cold and disgustingly heavy mocha and leave the cafe with a heavy pound on your chest. You check the time again on your phone, 11:59.

  You had been there since seven in the morning, watching the street live in front of you-not much different from New York except the language of course.

 How in the world would your reunion with Chanyeol turn out? Would he even recognize you? Would you even recognize him the same? Would it be important to him?

Does he still really ‘love’ you as told last night? Would you still feel anything? If so, how is it possible?

He was your inspiration for poems. You used to dream about seeing his smile again. His sweet smile and the bags that naturally form under his eyes when he smiled. You always knew Chanyeol was adorable for a grown man, but during one of your conversations his eye bags leveled up his cuteness. You swore it made you tear up.

“Ah Chan!” You comb your hair back running your fingers through. You try clenching your jaw to avoid it, yet a pool of tears form in your eyes.

“How many memories of us are going to run through my mind? That’s all we’ve become…memories.” You swallow the suffering pain in your throat.

 “Now you probably forgot giving me your word. Most likely in love with your wife… and you probably forgot about me.”    

 ______

 He stood in the sunlight dressed in his dark violet polo shirt tucked in slim around his waist.  “No, no, no my father-in-law wants the array of breakfast pastries outside the door once he settles our meeting not before it begins.”  

He trots in the hallway gluing his ear to his phone.  “Also he says leave the cream cheese off the chive omelets and replace them with the mini crab cakes. Please do not mess this up. Thank you.”

  His father-in-law was perfectionist needing whatever he wants to meet his high standards.

  Chanyeol inserts his hands in his pockets looking around the campus out the window. Even with this two hour meeting scheduled, he would still be able to stop by that cafe ordering an Iced Americano and any bread he wanted. He doubt time would allow him to sit next to the windows to just relax and think.

  He sees the body of his father-in-law and his daughter standing at the other end of the room and he greets them, bowing his head smiling. Chanyeol was used to being without the ring most of the time he absent mindedly let his father in law spy on his hands laying them on the table.

  “Yeol, you still haven’t found your ring?”

    Chanyeol whips his eyes to his bare fingers letting his mouth hang open.

The answer escapes his lips in a stutter.

“I did sir yesterday. I placed it on table next to my side before going bed it’s still at home on my bedside table.”

“A married couple should always wear their bands on their hands. It’s a requirement not an option.” He can only make a few glances at the man in front of him, feeling the fiery eye contact brazing against him. Chanyeol lays his hands on his legs, balling his fingers in his palms.  

“Yes sir.”

“You know how much my daughter means to us. As man and wife she’d like to match everything with you starting off with rings. You’re a charming man Mr.Park.”

  Chanyeol nods, pursing his lips together. “Thank you sir.”

   The space between them is thick, Chanyeol’s hands grip the edge of his seat, shudders race under his skin

“Ladies offering their hearts to you doesn’t surprise me, unless you were married.”

He perks his head up, “I am Sir to Somil.”

    The man pushes his a mug towards his son in law.

 “Somil tells me you two haven’t had any sort of connection. Did you two have another fight?” He leans his chin against his fingers. “Is there someone secret on either side?”

  The contact burns enough scorching the pain twice as much in Chanyeol’s chest. His eyes widen at realization of the last question, “No sir, no one at all.”

  He nods. “We expect nothing but the best for my soft cloud’s marriage survive with a husband like you.” Chanyeol sharply inhales, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

“And Somil shall have it Sir.”

Those were the exact words he had given to his wife and her family the day he signed the license.

  “A smart lad since the start.Drink some water, you look like your getting your nerves up.”  

____

Later that night…

 Chanyeol looks through multiple drawers. His fingers had been without that ring for forever, it was barely ever seen. He lost his wedding band somewhere around the house months into his marriage once he removed it.

   That string he made years back never left its place, no one ever asked about it. The string with the two beads and the brightest red he saw when he pulled it out the rainbow of other yarn.

  His string he keeps around the strap of his book bag.

   The color remained as brand new in the lighting in his house it looked brand new on his finger like the very first time she tied it on him. While tying hers on her finger, he remembers the shy grin on her face as her cheeks burned, with the way her teeth sank in her bottom lip.

  Looking through the letters his shoe box, Chanyeol whips out his phone that ringed from his blazer’s pocket. His screen flashes a box on his wallpaper.

7:51 Text Message: 

Chan…

He punches the keyboard under the text bubble.

 7:51 p.m. Text Message: 

What’s up Lay?

[love-killed-the-superstar]

not as long as my usual fics but hey it has tipsy kalinor in a gay bar just being happy together what more could you honestly want

Title: Ease The Fire (That Within Me Burns) Pairing: Kadma/Halinor Summary: Kadma wasn't sure what to expect when Halinor promised her they'd get out on the scene if Kadma came to visit her at college. Of course, any chance to visit her secret girlfriend where people from Heatherfield wouldn't recognise her was good enough for Kadma, and she hastily pulled a sickie and packed her bags, told her parents she'd be staying with a college friend for a few days to work on a class project. It wasn't like it was completely false.

(In October 1966, Kadma and Halinor visit a gay bar.)

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12077640

Kadma wasn't sure what to expect when Halinor promised her they'd get out on the scene if Kadma came to visit her at college. Of course, any chance to visit her secret girlfriend where people from Heatherfield wouldn't recognise her was good enough for Kadma, and she hastily pulled a sickie and packed her bags, told her parents she'd be staying with a college friend for a few days to work on a class project. It wasn't like it was completely false.

The ride over to Halinor's college campus was about forty minutes by bus, and Kadma was relieved that it only took that long because she was itching to spend time with Halinor again. They hadn't been in contact as much after Halinor returned for the first semester of her second year – it had taken all summer to grieve Cassidy and Nerissa and the death of C.H.Y.K.N, as well as so many other things, and at one point Halinor had even considered dropping out of college and taking Kadma up on the Fadden Hills dream they'd talked about so many times, just without the degree and without the career plan in mind. Fortunately, she'd had a change of heart just a few days before enrolment, and had returned to campus with a steely mindset to see through the end of her education.

However, Halinor's telepathy was gone for the most part, meaning radio silence pretty much in terms of instant communication. There was always the occasional phone call, but Halinor always got nervous on the phone, so she'd started sending letters instead, letters Kadma would cherish and read over and over again and preserve in a small jade green suitcase under lock and key. These letters would present themselves in the forms of love poems, anecdotes of college life, existential questions about their place in the world, questions asking after Yanny, doubts and fears in regards to Kandrakar, the Oracle and Nerissa. Rarely would a letter come that failed to make her laugh out loud, blush profusely and well up in the space of two page sides. In a rare postcard that had been lost in the post, arrived a week late, was a proposition.

K: Come visit me at college some time, I found just the right place for us to get out on the scene, if you know what I mean. See you soon, dear friend. -H

Short and sweet, but totally not in Halinor's style – there wasn't so much as a planetary doodle in the creeping blank space at the bottom of the note. Normally she would cover at least two sides, but maybe she was trying to be mysterious. Either way, Kadma was taken for it, hook, line and sinker. Any excuse to spend time with Halinor would be one she'd be happy to take.

Halinor was already waiting at the bus station for her when she finally arrived, clad in a loose summer dress adorned with ratty string around the waist acting as a belt (which was already looking a little thin for late October), complimented by a frayed tan jacket with tassels that had to be around six inches long, and go go boots that matched the jacket. On anyone else, even Kadma would admit the outfit looked a complete mess. On Halinor, it strangely worked, even from an outsider's perspective. She had an uncanny ability to make any outfit presentable. She'd even make wearing a sack look good.

“Kadma!” She sprinted over (surprisingly fast for such high shoes) and wrapped her up in a tight hug. “How are you, dear friend? It's been ages! You're lucky I picked up on your thoughts when I did, you never sent a reply back to me!”

“I did, it just hasn't shown up yet,” Kadma pointed out, hugging her back. Halinor giggled into her shoulder.

“Anyway, at least this means my telepathy isn't completely gone. It might come in handy some day.”

Kadma wanted to ask, what for? Cassidy is dead; Nerissa is sealed away on the other side of the world. Yan Lin's too far away for you to reach her – the power is useless. Not to mention an irritating reminder that the Oracle still has some sort of hold over us.

Instead, she shrugged. “Guess so.”

Halinor pulled away and tugged her hand, making no indication that she had picked up on that particular negative thought. “Shall we get going? The house I got isn't too far from the station, so we can walk. Also, don't even worry about my room mate. Ray's harmless, and he's passed out half the time. Works night shifts at a certain place we'll be visiting tonight, so he sleeps during the day.”

“And where will we be visiting, Hal? You haven't exactly given me a lot to go on,” Kadma pointed out, as Halinor began to steer the two of them towards the underpass leading out of the station. “All you sent me was a secretive little postcard.”

“You'll see,” sang Halinor playfully. “Did you bring something nice to dress up in?”

“Just my usual stuff,” said Kadma with a shrug. “Will that fly in your hippie club?”

“Sure. We don't shun people who prefer to dress more conservatively, you know. It's how you groove that matters.”

Kadma stared. “I don't groove, Hal. I barely dance.”

They broke free into sunshine and Halinor led her through the sunny residential area surrounding the station.

“I know that,” she said with a laugh. “Believe me, this club plays some great stuff. Besides, this is more than just going to a lame college discotheque – it's about the scene.”

“Again, secretive, secretive,” Kadma sighed, shaking her head. “What an unbelievable girl.”

“I'm being perfectly clear,” Halinor said with an equally mock-disappointed look. “You're the one not picking up on it.”

“Well, I guess I'll be totally surprised, then.”

True to Halinor's word, Ray was snoring away as Halinor let Kadma into her shared apartment. It was small without being too poky, and Halinor announced with a smile that although the rooms were paper-thin it 'wouldn't matter because Ray would be at his shift until dawn'. Reassuring. Halinor's room had a double bed, desk, and closet – just about everything she expected from a college dorm room, except in a separate apartment instead. Posters of Joe Cocker and The Four Tops were expertly pinned up against both closet doors, and their eyes seemed to watch her rather unnervingly wherever she walked. Instead, Kadma honed in on the desk.

Along with the assortment of textbooks and notepads neatly stacked up on her desk top was a framed photograph of the two of them with their graduation certificates, complete in caps and gowns, and sharing a bouquet of unidentifiable flowers (non-toxic Meridian lilies, freshly grown from seeds Kadma had collected on a past mission, but no one outside of their guardian circle needed to know that). She smiled as she traced the embossed frame reading 'best friends' along the bottom. Right. Friends.

Beside it was a group photograph, Nerissa included, which surprised Kadma given the way Halinor had shut down after her betrayal... but they all had different ways of moving on, she supposed. There was also a photograph of Cassidy framed, and it made Kadma's chest tighten.

“Well, here's my room. Make yourself at home.” Halinor straightened her already made bed and perched on it. She'd even tie-dyed her bedsheets, something Kadma knew Halinor's parents wouldn't be happy about if they knew. That said, they weren't happy about a lot of things going on in Halinor's life, and these days she didn't seem to care.

“Quite the place you've got here,” Kadma complimented. She sat down besides Halinor and grinned, before oh so subtly shutting the door without moving a muscle.

“You still have your telekinesis?” murmured Halinor, resting her head against her shoulder.

“About as much as you have your telepathy. It comes and goes.”

Halinor hummed.

“So how's Yanny doing?” she asked instead. “I don't write her very often. I know I probably should, but... I just don't know what to say. She was always closer to Nerissa than we were, so...”

“She doesn't talk to me much,” Kadma admitted. “But I mean, she dropped out of college after what happened, so she's busy working shifts. Sometimes we call. Sometimes I go to the Silver Dragon too, but it's not the same. The two of us have never really known what to say to each other.”

“It's so sad,” murmured Halinor. Kadma agreed. The death of Cassidy had also brought the death of their once inseparable friendship. Yan Lin hardly talked to them anymore, still doing the Oracle's bidding, no doubt. Nerissa was gone, Cassidy was gone. Kadma and Halinor only really had each other left. It would have been a comforting thought, if not for the circumstances.

“I'm tired of being sad,” Halinor continued, sounding defeated and feeble. “It hurt, and it still hurts, but I can't keep living like this, K. I need a life.The past is holding me back from that.”

“That's why you invited me out here, then?” Kadma guessed. She put an arm around Halinor, feeling a little awkward. “You wanted it to be like old times?”

“I guess.” Halinor peeked up at her with big eyes that Cassidy had once affectionately nicknamed 'Halinor's saucers'. The effect of which could make any human being melt, and Kadma in particular was prey to this and had no shame in admitting it. “I just want us to hang out. I found a great place, and I was so excited to tell you, but I thought, you know, maybe it was too soon. So I sent the postcard, half-hoping nothing would come of it. I just don't want you to think that I, that I don't care, because I do, Kadma, I-”

“You don't have to explain it to me, Hal. I know.” She wasn't exaggerating; something about risking ostracising yourself from society to be with a person had a butterfly effect of complete trust and honesty, and Kadma amazed herself with things she knew about Halinor that nobody else could possibly know. It didn't help that before they had been removed from Kandrakar Halinor would often filter whispered thoughts into Kadma's head as she slept, like a broken dam in a stream, overflowing with thoughts. It was Kadma's favourite pastime, listening to Halinor's deeper mind flooding her mind. She missed hearing her voice.

You can still hear it now, if only you'd ask, came Halinor's voice, gentle if not a little amused.

“Preying on a young woman's thoughts. What a cheap tactic to get me to admit how much I've missed this.” Kadma was smiling despite herself, and Halinor tugged her down so they were lying side by side on the bed.

“I'm a college girl now. College girls know how to get what they want.” Halinor's tone, seductive in the silliest way, made Kadma crack up, and Halinor had to shush her despite her own hushed giggles.

“Quiet, you'll wake Ray up,” she giggled, and silenced Kadma with a clumsy kiss that she was all too happy to fall into, even if she was still occasionally laughing into Halinor's closed smile.

“Frenching me now, are you? How bold.”

“Bold's my middle name,” Halinor grinned, peppering Kadma's cheeks and jaw with kisses.

“Well then, Halinor Bold Clarkson, what are our plans tonight? We've got the hard part out the way, so mind telling me what to expect?”

“So eager,” sighed Halinor, feigning disapproval. She tapped a finger against Kadma's chin. “All I'm saying is that we're going out, and there's going to be drinks, and there's going to be music. It's a great place Ray showed me. I've been so excited to take you out. You really want to ruin the fun?”

Kadma huffed and muttered, “No...”

“That's what I thought. We have another few hours, anyway, so lets just talk. How's college?”

“The usual. Still got Miriam Knickerbocker as my childcare project partner. Better than Paulie Tubbs, though. Can't get him off my back...”

…

They were ready.

Ray had left an hour earlier to prep for his bartender shift, leaving Halinor and Kadma to get showered and dressed ready for their night out. Kadma felt a little under dressed, even though she'd adopted a wardrobe more akin to mod fashion over the past few months, and had picked out a pair of slacks and a dark shirt with a white collar. When Halinor saw her she gave small applause.

“Nice look,” Halinor complimented with a grin. “A lot of the people who go to this club are copycat mods, so you'll fit right in.”

Halinor herself was dressed in a simple deep red mini dress patterned around the wide-set collar with pale yellow flowers, with her usual tasselled jacket thrown on and the go go boots from earlier, complimented by canary yellow seamless pantyhose. True hippie to the end.

“Ready to go?” she asked, taking Kadma's hand. Kadma swallowed and nodded.

As Halinor lead her out of the apartment block, she took Kadma around the back, through the parking lot and onto a back alley that seemed to go on forever, leading into one alley after another.

“Are you taking me to a crack house or something?” muttered Kadma. “Seriously-”

“Oh, patience,” chided Halinor. “We're nearly there.”

Finally a sign came into view, with the words The Shrinking Violet reading in neon magenta. The windows were tinted, and the faint din of music could be heard leaking from the chimney. Outside, a few smokers were gathered, talking amongst themselves, all ages, races and genders mingling freely.

Kadma whistled.

“Oh, hush,” whispered Halinor with a grin. “I know it doesn't look like much. It's better on the inside, trust me.”

“I'll take your word for it,” Kadma sighed, allowing herself to be led across the street and into the bar. Inside was a different story entirely.

First was the drag queens. Kadma had never seen a real life drag queen before, though she figured there had to be some in Heatherfield, and they were even more theatrical up close. The queens were lip syncing to a Sandie Shaw song from a couple years back, their movements exaggerated. The air itself was thick with cigarette smoke (despite several signs in the establishment stating for smokers to go outside so they didn't have to crack open any windows), but they didn't so much as bat a fake eyelash.

Then came the people on the dance floor. Manicured nails met manicured nails. Steel-toed shoes met steel-toed shoes. There were the odd mismatch, but most came in pairs that danced the same, held themselves the same. Two girls danced cheek in cheek in the far corner, particularly lost in the song, and they caught Kadma's attention.

“You brought me to a queer bar?!” she gasped, turning to stare at Halinor in shock. “You – but – how did you even-?!”

“I know people,” defended Halinor, though more than anything she looked amused by Kadma's blatant shock. “Liberal arts college is wild, K. You wouldn't believe how easy it is to find stuff like this out.”

“Wish community college was as exciting as all this. The most we have is a gay baseball star, and he's so well built everyone knows not to mess with him. It's infuriating. They say safety in numbers, but I'm too scared of getting decked to approach him!”

Halinor burst out laughing and couldn't contain her laughter as she steered Kadma towards the bar.

“Why thank you for your concern,” Kadma muttered dryly.

“Halinor!” Kadma and Halinor turned to the bartender, and Halinor grinned.

“Ray, hi! You look buzzed.”

“I was just talking to one of the queens, later they're gonna sync to The Supremes, and you know that's gonna put a smile on my face.” Ray, with a dark complexion and wild-eyed curiosity, took in Kadma's appearance and the way that Halinor's hand was clasping hers, and his face split into a wide grin. “You're the one and only Kadma, right? Hallie's little girlfriend?”

Kadma felt her face redden and Halinor rolled her eyes. “Knock it off, Ray. What makes you think Kadma is my girlfriend?”

“Well, you're always talking about how tall your girl back home is,” he pointed out with an impish smile. “Seems pretty tall to me. You also told me she was cool and serious, and Kadma over here is definitely giving off those vibes. Not to mention you're holding hands.”

“Girls can hold hands without being queer, Ray,” retorted Halinor, though she was grinning. Kadma glanced around and from the looks of things, nobody else here was from Heatherfield. At least, there was definitely nobody else here who would know her. She took a deep breath.

“Actually, Ray, you're right. I am Halinor's girlfriend. Now make us some cocktails.”

Halinor stared, then exploded into another infectious fit of giggles as Ray looked amazed she'd actually admitted it. Kadma held her chin high, willing herself not to let on how embarrassed she was right now.

“Yes, ma'am. Yikes. I can see which one of you wears the pants.”

“Ah, I love this place,” sighed Halinor, taking a seat at one of the bar stools. “Kadma admitted to someone that she's my girlfriend! How sweet is that!”

“Don't go shouting that to every new face you see,” retorted Kadma. “I'll deny it.”

“Fair enough.”

Kadma drank in the sight of the bar as Halinor began asking Ray about something or other relating to the rent. The queens had finished up their song and were taking a break, talking animatedly to a pair of men with gelled back hair and shirts almost entirely unbuttoned. A mod tune from an early 60s English band spilled out, lively with an irregular beat, and the slow dancing couples switched up their moves dramatically, trying in vain to keep in time with the ever changing beat. It was pretty amusing to watch.

Around the corners of the dance floor were a few scattered groups; men and women trying really hard not to look gay, clumped together like a support group, supposedly first-timers; women in men's shirts and loose slacks, smoking and talking amongst themselves; teddy boys with rolled up sleeves, bow ties and high pants, laughing and joking and singing along drunkenly; girls in heavy make-up and geometric patterned dresses, or baggy shirts and bell-bottoms, arguing over who was going to pay the tab; drag queens writing on the exposed skin of their adoring fans, blowing them kisses and striking exaggerated poses.

Kadma couldn't say she'd visited a bar before, but this was certainly not how she'd imagined them to be.

“Are all bars like this?” she wondered. “Or is it just everyone's drunkenness and queerness combined?”

“Hard to say,” Halinor giggled, sliding a cocktail towards Kadma. “But I've visited an ordinary bar before, and trust me, this place is much more entertaining.”

Kadma sipped and found it a little hard to believe this was an alcoholic beverage. Her brother Dev would occasionally slip her a beer and it tasted bitter, borderline vile, while this tasted like slightly bitter fruit juice.

“They call it a cosmopolitan,” Halinor explained with a smile. “It's a brand new cocktail. I reckon this is the first gay bar around to serve it!”

The sharpness reminded her of Halinor, quick and cutting when need be, but comfortingly so; a girl never afraid to speak her mind. It felt fitting to share this first drink with her.

One drink turned into three, and by that point Kadma felt a little dizzy with drink. The Supremes were on, and the crowd whooped and cheered as three drag queens, mimicking the singers, stepped up onto the stage and blew exaggerated kisses at the audience.

Halinor grinned and blew them a kiss back, which the front queen mimed grabbing and putting down their cleavage.

“This is the best part of the night,” Halinor explained, grinning as wide as anything. “Trust me. You want to dance?”

“I... sure...”

Kadma couldn't remember the last time she and Halinor had danced together. Prom, maybe? A secret dance behind the bleachers, the faintest music accompanying them. Or some time in a secluded place. At a party in Metamoor's rebellion headquarters, folk music and happy laughter and people who didn't care if a couple was made up of two girls or otherwise. The memories were so faded in her mind. She never wanted them to disappear.

“It keeps me crying baby for you, keeps me sighing baby for you...”

Kadma squeezed Halinor's hand in the darkness.

“I love you,” she murmured, as Halinor led her closer to the stage. The queen mimicking Diana Ross winked at them.

Halinor's expression softened, and she leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek. Kadma's face began to heat up, and she glanced around nervously. Nobody had seen. Nobody cared, in a place like this.

“I love you too, K.”

Kadma's heart was racing, and she began to giggle, lacing her fingers between Halinor's. Halinor began to laugh too, and the two of them began to spin as the music picked up.

“No matter what you do or say, I'm gonna love you anyway...”

Kadma leaned forward and tentatively, secretly, their lips met as the crowd erupted into cheers – the queens were swaying their hips to the beat of the music and throwing their heads back, reining in the applause. Nobody noticed two young lesbians in the heat of the moment, and for that, Kadma found herself grateful.

…

“The plan was,” Halinor giggled as they staggered back towards her apartment, “t-to loosen up together at the bar, and to propose we have some good old free love afterwards! But, I didn't think we'd get so blitzed!”

Kadma almost tripped over her own feet, both from the drink and from what Halinor had just suggested.

“S-Sex! Halinor Clarkson, that's – I know we talked about it before, b-but – stars, Hal, that's something we gotta plan together!”

“I know...” She giggled again, shaking her head, and clumsily unlocked the front door. Kadma all but planted face first into Halinor's bed.

“I'm sleepy...”

“I didn't realise you'd be such a lightweight,” laughed Halinor. “That's fine, I guess. We have the next few days to talk, before you have to go back.”

Kadma mumbled something incoherently into Halinor's pillow, and after kicking off her shoes, Halinor flopped down onto the bed beside her.

“What was that, K?”

“Mm... love you...”

Kadma's eyes were beginning to close, no matter how she fought to get another glimpse of Halinor's flushed cheeks and heavy eyes before the night was over. She saw her lips pull into a smile, and felt them plant against her cheek as she drifted in and out of sleep.

“Goodnight, my dear.”

Kadma felt Halinor pull a blanket over the both of them, and the last thing that registered in her mind was the feeling of Halinor's hand resting atop hers.

She slept soundly for the first night in months.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #62

“for better or for worse, i was born into a hearse.”

what do you normally eat at a barbecue?   honestly, i suffer at a barbecue.  i don't like anything that is usually cooked. do you prefer aquatic creatures or flying (water or air)?   flying, i presume. would you like to go swimming with dolphins?   i'd be kinda iffy, because i know dolphins can be quite mean, but i'd still do it. what to you is beautiful beyond all compare?   jason.  well, he's handsome, but you get it. in 5 years time, what do you NOT want to be doing (worst scenario)?   uhhh i guess be in prison for murdering ashley. have you and a friend ever gone after the same person?   thank god, no. do you lead people on?   i do not. have you ever been told that you were going to hell?   nope. do you know any actual dances or do you just move to the music?   not really.  i just know shit like the cupid shuffle and uhhh... not the electric slide... what's the other song like it? name the coolest thing about one of your grandparents.   they built their own house. do you know which side your appendix is on?   uhhhh... left, i think? if someone was willing to tell your crush you liked them would you let them?   it'd be useless.  he already knows. do you put q-tips in your ear or just round the outside?   honestly i'll put them into the ear a bit because i hate my ears feeling waxy. have you ever popped another person’s zit?   no, thank jesus. gave you ever told a friend to dump their SO? did they?   yeah, summer when she dated nick.  she did eventually. what do you think is the coolest piercing on someone else?   back dermals. who do you tease most often and what about?   the only person i've ever been comfortable teasing was jason.  i'd call him a geek a lot, but he knows i didn't mean it harmfully.  i'm attracted to geeks anyway. most disgusting bug?   disgusting, well, obviously the dung beetle. favorite thing you’ve ever painted?   i painted two meerkats grooming each other on burlap in acrylic in high school.  turned out stellar, in my honest opinion. when it’s your birthday, do you have the correct number of candles?   i probably won't this year, as 21 is quite a few. when you take surveys, what kinds of questions do you HOPE will be asked?   just unique ones.  questions you very rarely hear, or my favorite, controversial ones that really invoke thought. do you like 80s music?   80s metal, hell yeah. what kind of food is your favorite? (Ex. Mexican, Chinese, Thai, etc.)   american how would you feel if you were drafted for the military?   i'd rather die. would you have sex before marriage? why or why not?   i still don't know.  i've said before i regret not letting jason take my virginity, and i don't want regrets.  honestly, if by some miracle he comes back, i'm ditching it.  through him being gone, i have truly seen just how much i adore him, and when you love someone this much, i don't care if i'm not legally bound to him, he deserves to know me like that.  if i start a new relationship, though... i kinda doubt i'll ever have sex until i'm married, because if jason can't take my virginity, i don't want another man to until i'm married to him.  jason had to wait, so does he. lmao reading that, my logic is so fucky, idk. how do you feel about shaved pubes?   if you don't like them, shave them.  good for you. are you more liberal or conservative?   i'm definitely more conservative, but have some liberal views. why do some teenagers drink alcohol?   i'm sure everyone drinks for a different reason. do you like obama?   i don't know enough about him to judge fairly.  i disagree with some of his policies that i know about, but he honestly seems like a really chill and funny dude. would making abortion illegal really be the logical thing to do?   fucking yes it would be.  and DO NOT give me the "it'll only stop safe abortions" argument.  guess what?  murder's illegal.  still happens.  a mother should in no way be comfortable killing her spawn, and i am disgusted beyond anything more in human nature by the fact people do it without even flinching.  just.  shit.  i have so much to say about this.  i do pity a woman who decides to have an unsafe abortion, yes, but no, i will not say sorry to you that a child "inconvenienced" you.  i do not CARE what is going on in your life, you act like a fucking adult, suck that shit up, bear the child, give it up to adoption.  think it'll scar you for life?  guess the fuck what?  shit far "worse" than a CHILD happens to a good majority of people. lkasjdoaisuere i really don't feel like going on with this.  and i know i sound so feisty with this subject, but i am just so passionate about the issue. does the person you like, like you?   apparently not. what's the most sexual thing you've done?   idk, oral i guess? what's your opinion on masturbation?   this question seems to come up a lot lately in the quizzes i'm finding...  but anyway.  it's wrong.  lustful.  gross in my opinion, i don't care how clean you may be. do you wish you had an eating disorder because you want to lose weight?   okay, i want to lose weight VERY badly, but i would never wish an eating disorder upon myself. what is your favorite queen song?   "bohemian rhapsody," duh! who is the sexiest celebrity? would you cheat on your partner for this celebrity?   link neal is daddy af.  but no, i wouldn't. how often do you cuss?   just as often as i say "normal" words. how is your self-esteem?   non-existent. have you ever thought about committing suicide?   tried it. have you ever cleaned up someone else’s vomit?   i have not, and i couldn't. would you kiss the last person you texted?   that would be colleen, and no. do you think you exercise enough?   i don't exercise period.  i feel too fucking weak to ever do it efficiently and because of my medication, i sweat to the point that it is NOT worth it. you’re getting ready to go to bed, and the last person you kissed shows up. what do you say?  "hi, sweetheart." if i offered to buy you a chocolate bar, which would you choose?   hershey's, please. have you ever written a song or poem for someone special?   i have.  i hope he still has it... have you ever been told that you resemble a celebrity?   no, but i've been told i resemble a video game character.  well, i did. in your life, who is the person that seems to understand you the most?   of all the people in my life, i thought jason did. last time you got goosebumps?   well i'm still watching the "life is strange" playthrough from earlier and this fucking game gives me goosebumps pretty easily. do you have a beatles shirt?   no, i don't enjoy them enough to have one. what color(s) have you dyed your hair?   i've had black, red, purple, burgundy... probably more i'm forgetting. do you think about the way things used to be often?   my life's consumed by it. have you ever dated a ginger?   nope. have you ever cheated on a boyfriend/girlfriend?   nope. how do you like being roused in the morning?   ... i'mma just say a "certain way" by jason like he liked to do. favorite food?   jalapeno pizza what is the best news you could hear right now?   "jason wants to give you an apology." do you listen to screamo?   no, it's one of the rare metal sub-genres i do not enjoy.  i want to be able to understand the words. does your town/area have a farmer’s market? do you ever buy your vegetables there rather than grocery store?   area, sure, maybe like an hour away.  town, no, so we don't really buy groceries there. you're on life support, and you want someone to pull the plug.  who do you want to do it?   honest to god... if jason could do one more thing for me, if that was my life... it'd be that.  he's already done so much to me that he might as well kill me, too.  it sounds dark, i know, but if that was my life, living in such torture, i'd want him to take the roll of messiah again, one more time, like he did when we were dating.  for him to save me from a fate worse than death, for him to do that one last thing for me, maybe i would die at least slightly happy.  I AM NOOOOOT saying i want that to actually happen, i don't at all, but if it were to happen, i'd want jason to be the one to muster up the will to visit me even once to do it. has anyone ever “ruined” anything for you (for example: your partner says, “oh, this song always reminds me of my ex” and you never want to listen to it again, or your friend is so obsessed with a movie that you start to resent the film)?   ohhhh boy.  OHHHHHH BOY.  can i actually like... vent here about everything jason ruined for me?  just to get this shit out, because i'm honestly still hurt that so many things i can't experience anymore?  let's start, boiz! motionless in white and black veil brides both trigger me, as they were his favorite bands, but i listen to them anyway.  i can't listen to "the mortician's daughter" and "saviour" by bvb, "city lights" by motionless in white fucks with me a bit, i cannot tolerate "when it's love" by van halen or "all or nothing" by theory of a deadman because i thought both would play big parts in my wedding with him.  i can't listen to "stairway to heaven" by led zeppelin because of that time we danced to it.  i can't watch "american horror story," "supernatural," or "sherlock" because we binge-watched them all.  i can't go to olive garden because he used to work there.  i can't go to office depot because he works there now.  i can't even think of the batman series, particularly joker and harley quinn, without thinking of jason.  i'm most certain there's more, but that's all that's coming to me right now... would you ever get a tattoo in honor of someone in your life?  it doesn't have to be their name.   ... sigh.  three questions in a row where i'm going to go on and on about jason, lmao...  well, the answer's yes.  i know people in my life are going to have problems with it, especially family, but i've seriously considered many tats i want in his honor.  i've thought about the consequences, and frankly, i do not care.  i want them.  who knows, maybe i will move on one day (i doubt it, but who knows), but i can guarantee to you that i may not like, but won't mind having memories on him ingrained into my flesh. so anyone, here's the tattoos i think i'll actually get: 1.) "... and you ain't got his smile" quote (harley quinn quote; the one i'm most likely to do); 2.) "i don't love you like i did yesterday" (mcr song) quote with two hands ripping a heart below it [this song has really helped me through this breakup], 3.) a watercolor blue jay (his nickname is "j bird"), 4.) "i love you more than i could ever scream" (bvb song) quote, and 5.) "saudade" (means a longing for one you cannot have, stuff like that).  yes.  i am seriously considering getting five tats dedicated to my ex.  move along. away from jason, yeah, i'd get tats for other people, too.  i have a shared "ohana" tattoo with my best friend.  i'll probably get something with my mother at some point, too. if you had a significant other and somehow got a chance to kiss your celebrity crush, would you still go for it?   no, honestly. if you still live with your parents, is it scary for you to imagine living away from them when you move out on your own? if you live on your own, how did you cope with moving away from your family for the first time?   i am scared of moving out, yes.  depression makes me... kinda irresponsible, to be honest.  i'm not the best at taking care of myself and such, and i don't want to neglect my house.  when i lived in the apartment, it was a good taste of how it'd be like, and we all failed.  i'm very, very scared of moving out. do you tend to be attracted to people that are more similar to you in interests and mannerisms or do you tend to be attracted to someone opposite/complementing to you?   i'm definitely attracted to people more like me. is there something that people complain about that just makes you roll your eyes because you think is not a big deal and you would gladly trade your own issues for it?   i mean, sometimes, yeah.  at the same time though, i know exactly what it's like to have an issue that people underestimate.  it's the exact reason colleen and i are fighting.  you don't know how well or badly a certain person will handle a specific issue. have you ever received an unwanted gift from someone trying to woo you? did you accept it or reject it?   from juan, yeah.  i've accepted minor stuff, but never anything major. have you ever boycotted a product or corporation? how come?   i don't think i seriously have. if someone asks you to hang out, but for some reason you’re just feeling lazy/don’t want to go anywhere, do you ignore them, make up an excuse, or just tell them the honest truth?   lmao i'll honestly do all three.  just depends. have you heard of or even read the novel, “50 shades of grey”? if so, what’s your opinion about it?   everyone's heard of it, and it's fucking disgusting and demeaning and instills terrible relationship ideals into some people. has a guy ever let you wear his jacket?   jason has a big leather jacket i loved to "steal" while we were in the school cafeteria because i was always cold. has anyone you ever dated called you in the middle of the night just to hear your voice?   no, not just for that. have you met anyone famous?   i have not. what will your next piercing be?   mom really doesn't want to be the one to buy me my tongue piercing because she's so against the idea, so she's thinking of letting me get my lip re-pierced on my birthday. what do you regret doing at FAR too young?   fully and with reckless abandon giving someone my heart. do you have any weapons for personal protection?   no.  i'm not legally allowed to own a gun due to me being mentally ill/having a history of suicide attempts, and i don't know about other weapons. is there a piece of jewelry that holds any sentimental value to you?   yes, a ring jason gave me for our anniversary once.  it had a golden base with a bluish-purple gem.  it was pretty big.  he was so pissed (not at me, at the seller) when it broke, though.  i still have it in the jewelry box he gave me... what does your facebook status say right now?   ehhhh, i honestly kinda exploded last night and went off on everyone who calls me "friend," no one in particular.  i was tired of being so let down by the people who "care" about me. would you ever agree to an open relationship with someone?   no way in seven hells. have you ever had your picture in the newspaper?   i have not. what did you have for dinner last night?   i was so upset that i didn't eat. do you think you look similar to your siblings?   i look less like them than ashley and nicole look like each other, but i do look like them. what do you usually dream about?   jason's always there. do you ever use sleep as a way to cope with bad moods?   i use sleep to cope with, well, a lot.  when i'm bored, i'll sleep, when i feel like crap, i'll sleep...  i almost always take at least one nap a day, and sometimes i'll lie down a second time.  it's embarrassing to admit. what’s the most self-destructive thing you’ve ever done?   letting jason become my world. was (or is) it difficult for you to watch your siblings mature? if you’re an only child, is it difficult to watch family members in general get older?   it's not as hard with ashley, but it really is with nicole.  she's the youngest, and though we're bonded truly only through blood, i don't like seeing her get older.  it's still weird that she has a feminine body and not a child's, and she's 18 for heaven's sake.  all but like one of her boyfriends i haven't trusted.  it hurts me physically when her current bf acts like the shithead he is.  i nearly had an emotional breakdown when i found out she was having sex via the doctor.  i don't like her growing up. have you ever blamed an outside force for a problem you were having?   ... i guess blaming jason for a lot of things. do you find yourself getting more optimistic around new year’s, or does that time of year have a negative affect on you?   there's no change at all.  a new year has no effect on events that transpire, so there's literally no reason to be optimistic. who was your high school crush?   he was more than a "crush," but jason. what do you dislike about your smile?   my eyes squint when i smile. have you noticed that EVERYONE is ‘bisexual’ these days?   erm, not "everyone" is, but i noticed bisexuality becoming popular when i was in middle school.  many, many girls i knew claimed to be so, then would "turn straight" like a year later.  it was stupid. are you online 24/7?   pretty much, yes. who is your favorite online friend?   i don't really have one since mini just kinda ditched me. is it possible to be single and happy?   i'm certain it is, but after tasting what genuine love is like, i'm coming to accept i guess it's just not for me.  i don't want to rush things, though, which i'm scared of doing. is there anyone who hates you?   pretty sure rachel did in high school, don't know if she still does. does your mom know your deepest darkest secrets?   no, she does not. who did you last talk to about the person you like?   mom, i think. is there anyone you trust who you shouldn’t?   jason, i guess. do you want kids?   i guess i do.  but pondering it, there's a minor possibility i won't.  it depends on who i date.  like... before i dated jason (i know ya'll are so fucking tired of hearing about him, i truly am sorry), i didn't want kids.  a year or so into our relationship, i did, solely because i loved him so much.   i wanted a manifestation of us.  when i think of the possibility of having kids, i'm pretty sure i still only visualize it being with my ex, so that's why i still say "yeah i want kids."  who knows... if by some miracle i end up with someone else, i may not want their kids... who knows... have you ever fallen completely in love?   completely and entirely. do you believe in celebrating anniversaries?   of course i do!  love is a fucking perfect thing to celebrate! what was your biggest worry five years ago, do you still feel the same about it at this minute?   five years ago, i was busy worrying if jason and i would last.  guess i know now. do you want your children (if you have any) to be ‘just like you’?   no.  god no.  please. do you have same sex fantasies?   no, i don't. would you ever have sex in the shower or the bath?   i mean, i'd try it, sure, but i don't think it'd be my thing. opinion on immigrants/immigration reform?   i have very mixed feelings with this.  like i understand perfectly that some people have very valid reasons to leave their countries, but we also have to consider our maximum capacity as a country and how easily we could accidentally bring in a terrorist.  because of my mixed feelings, i really can't answer this question should prostitution be legalized?   fuck no. why are you the person you are?   my upbringing, the environment i was raised in, my experiences... if you were offered a shot of whiskey right this second, would you accept?   sure, i've never tried it before. what are you like when you’re drunk?   i'm sociable, i laugh a lot, and apparently i like to sing.  i like drunk me way more than sober me. do you want a church wedding?   i do not. story of the first time you made out with someone?   so jason and i were playfighting on his bed and to shut me up, he kissed me, and because of me having been talking, my mouth was open, sooo it kinda just escalated from there.  i still remember we kissed about a million times that day, probably.  so i can't be too bad a kisser lol. first time you gave/received oral sex?   i'm pretty sure he gave me oral sex first, but i don't really remember it much?  nor do i recall the first time i gave him oral?  i remember liking it but really not wanting to, and i tensed up very badly.  giving it to him, i just simply didn't enjoy (nor did i really know what to do at all in case i hurt him), even though i'm aware he was clean.  like i'm just sorry, i don't care who you are, i don't want the place you ejaculate and piss from in my mouth.  because of this, we didn't really do oral much. do you still talk to the person you lost your virginity to?   i still have my virginity. how many followers do you have on tumblr? what about twitter/instagram?   40 on my main tumblr blog, 25 on my survey one.  i am but a smol bean.  i don't have twitter and instagram. first time you thought you were in love? when did you realize that you weren’t actually in love with that person?   maybe a year or so into my relationship with jason, perhaps later?  and i was and still am in love with that man. ever seen someone just roll out of bed and still look hot?
   that's jason for you.  his hair was always so messy in the morning, but he looked like a rugged angel to me. would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone?   i already have one there. if you were pregnant right now…?   financially, that'd be very, very bad.  regardless though, i'd keep the child and, depending on the paternity, keep it or adopt it out.  the only person i've ever done anything remotely sexual with is jason, so i'm guessing he'd have to be the dad, despite not seeing him for over a year???  if that was the case, i'd keep the baby and raise it as best i could and treasure it beyond belief.  if it wasn't his, this sounds... really bad, but i don't feel like i would have the desire to raise it myself.  it's obvious i don't love myself, so having a child that was a mix of me and god-knows-who would just feel... idk.  i don't feel like i'd be capable of loving it properly, so i'd give him/her to a family that would. have you ever kissed an ex after you two have broken up?   i have not. do you ever wear boots with skinny jeans?   i used to, when i was slimmer.  i rocked skinny jeans and black boots, imo. is there a den in your house?   there's not a room we refer to as "den," no. what's currently on your mind?   ha, first lemme say a shit load is on my mind.  always is.  but what's lying most heavily on my mind at the moment is how i quit school yesterday, and now i feel like i won't succeed as a photographer.  which is ridiculous, i know, considering all college would do me is give me a fancy sheet of paper.  it would perhaps slightly increase my chances of being employed by a company, but... hello, i want to be a freelance photographer???  getting a degree and digging so deep into debt just didn't seem worth it, at all.  experience is far more important than being told how to photograph, and you can find most information about photography online for free.  it's not worth it for what i want to focus on, i know, but dammit, that little nagging thought in me that says i failed... do you have a pinterest account?   lmao yeah i do.  i shamelessly have boards mostly related to photographs i want to recreate with my future family.  i also have a board related to stylistic/fashion choices and tattoos. have you ever seen the television show the munsters?   yes yes yes yes yes!!! would you/have you spent more than $200 on any one person for a holiday?   i mean, sure.  i might want to get a significant other something pricey, or i'd use it to get christmas presents for my child(ren). thoughts on slenderman? have you even heard of him?   i don't think he's at all scary honestly, but i guess the story of him's okay?  he's an... okay-ish introduction for someone who wants to explore horror games too, i assume. what would you call yourself the king or queen of?   obsessing over my ex. if i paid for you to take karate lessons, would you?   no, honestly. what is the saddest movie that you’ve ever seen?   hmmmm... i am not entirely sure. opinion: on surveys that begin with your name, age, etc?   i either don't take the survey if it's full of basic shit or delete the questions that are always asked. do you know any people who cuss in every sentence?   jason's mother, pretty much. ever written that you were going to end your life?   i've told my ex that over facebook before, yes.  that's the only reason he came to my house after he broke up with me, probably. is life good?   is life good, despite all the hell, struggles, joys, and spans of boredom?  no.  no, it is not. did you lose friends when you started dating someone?   juan stopped talking to me, but i barely considered him a friend anyway. have you ever used the word “rawr” in an actual conversation?   ... yes. would you change yourself for the person you love?   if he's interested in me changing for the better, sure.  but by now, i almost feel like i'd change however jason wanted me to... do you have someone you can be your complete self around?   i mean i guess i can, but i don't. do you have nice eyes?   they're average, i guess. how did you celebrate your last birthday?   we went to texas steakhouse. have you ever had sex on the beach?   no, and that sounds... gross... with all the sand...? would you ever shave your head to save someone you love?   of course. can you juggle?   nope. what’s the last thing you drew a picture of?   i'm pretty sure i drew a portrait of jason last. is your bellybutton an innie or outie?   innie. have you ever been banned from a public place?   i have not. what horror fiction character scares you the most?   scream, definitely. have you ever milked a cow?   no, and i don't really want to. have you ever given blood?   once in high school, yes. do you know any identical twins?   i do.  i forget the other kid's name, it was jason and... something.  remember that story of how the only reason i accepted my jason's friend request is because i thought he was another jason?  yeah, it was that jason. have you ever made your own ice cream?   colleen and i did together, yeah. (:

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for june 10 of 2021 with Proverbs 10 and Psalm 10, accompanied by Psalm 83 for the 83rd day of Spring and Psalm 11 for day 161 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 10]

[Wisdom for Today]

The wisdom of Solomon:

When wisdom comes to a son,

joy comes to a father.

When a son turns from wisdom,

a mother grieves.

Gaining wealth through dishonesty is no gain at all.

But honesty brings you a lasting happiness.

The Lord satisfies the longings of all his lovers,

but he withholds from the wicked what their souls crave.

Slackers will know what it means to be poor,

while the hard worker becomes wealthy.

Know the importance of the season you’re in

and a wise son you will be.

But what a waste when an incompetent son

sleeps through his day of opportunity!

The lover of God is enriched beyond belief,

but the evil man only curses his luck.

The reputation of the righteous

becomes a sweet memorial to him,

while the wicked life only leaves a rotten stench.

The heart of the wise will easily accept instruction.

But those who do all the talking

are too busy to listen and learn.

They’ll just keep stumbling ahead

into the mess they created.

The one who walks in integrity

will experience a fearless confidence in life,

but the one who is devious

will eventually be exposed.

The troublemaker always has a clever plan

and won’t look you in the eye,

but the one who speaks correction honestly

can be trusted to make peace.

The teachings of the lovers of God are like

living truth flowing from the fountain of life,

but the words of the wicked

hide an ulterior motive.

Hatred keeps old quarrels alive,

but love draws a veil over every insult

and finds a way to make sin disappear.

Words of wisdom flow from the one with true discernment.

But to the heartless, words of wisdom

become like rods beating their backside.

Wise men don’t divulge all that they know,

but chattering fools blurt out words

that bring them to the brink of ruin.

A rich man’s wealth becomes like a citadel of strength,

but the poverty of the poor leaves their security in shambles.

The lovers of God earn their wages for a life of righteousness,

but the wages of the wicked are squandered on a life of sin.

If you readily receive correction,

you are walking on the path to life.

But if you reject rebuke,

you’re guaranteed to go astray.

The one who hides his hatred while pretending to be your friend

is nothing but a liar.

But the one who slanders you behind your back

proves that he’s a fool, never to be trusted.

If you keep talking, it won’t be long

before you’re saying something really wrong.

Prove you’re wise from the very start—

just bite your tongue and be strong!

The teachings of the godly ones are like pure silver,

bringing words of redemption to others,

but the heart of the wicked is corrupt.

The lovers of God feed many with their teachings,

but the foolish ones starve themselves

for lack of an understanding heart.

True enrichment comes from the blessing of the Lord,

with rest and contentment in knowing

that it all comes from him.

The fool finds fun in planning to do wrong,

but the wise delight in having discernment.

The lawless are haunted by their fears

and what they dread will come upon them,

but the longings of the lovers of God will all be fulfilled.

The wicked are blown away by every stormy wind.

But when a catastrophe comes,

the lovers of God have a secure anchor.

To trust a lazy person to get a job done

will be as irritating as smoke in your eyes—

as enjoyable as a toothache!

Living in the worship and awe of God

will bring you many years of contented living.

So how could the wicked ever expect to have a long, happy life?

Lovers of God have a joyful feast of gladness,

but the ungodly see their hopes vanish right before their eyes.

The beautiful ways of God are a safe resting place

for those who have integrity.

But to those who work wickedness

the ways of God spell doom.

God’s lover can never be greatly shaken.

But the wicked will never inherit

the covenant blessings.

The teachings of the righteous are loaded with wisdom,

but the words of the evil ones are crooked and perverse.

Words that bring delight pour from the lips of the godly,

but the words of the wicked are duplicitous.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 10 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 10]

The Cry of the Oppressed

[The Lord is Concealed]

Lord, why do you seem so far away when evil is near?

Why have you hidden yourself when I need you the most?

The arrogant in their elitist pride persecute the poor and helpless.

May you pour out upon them

the very evil they’ve dreamed up against others!

How they brag and boast of their cravings, exalting the greedy.

They congratulate themselves as they despise you—

these arrogant ones, so smug and secure!

In their delusion the wicked boast, saying,

“God doesn’t care about what we do.

There’s nothing to worry about!”

So successful are they in their schemes

and prosperous in all their plans!

Your laws are far from them;

they scoff at their enemies.

They boast that neither God nor men will bring them down.

They sneer at all their enemies, saying in their hearts,

“We’ll have success in all we do

and never have to face trouble.”

Their mouths spew out cursing, lies, and threats.

Only trouble and turmoil come from all their plans.

Like beasts lurking in the shadows of the city,

they crouch silently in ambush, waiting for the innocent to pass by.

Pouncing on the poor, they catch them in their snare

to murder their prey in secret

as they plunder their helpless victims.

They crush the lowly as they fall beneath their brutal blows,

watching their victims collapse in defeat!

Then they say to themselves,

“The Lofty One is not watching while we do this.

He doesn’t even care! We can get away with it!”

[The Lord is Concerned]

Now arise, Yahweh-God! Crush them once and for all!

Don’t forget the helpless and oppressed.

How dare the wicked think they’ll reject God and escape judgment.

They say to themselves,

“God won’t hold me accountable.”

Lord, I know you see all that they’re doing,

noting their each and every deed.

You know the trouble and turmoil they’ve caused.

Now punish them thoroughly for all that they’ve done!

The poor and helpless ones trust in you, Lord,

for you are famous for being the helper of the fatherless.

I know you won’t let them down.

Break the power of the wicked and all their strong-arm tactics.

Search them out and destroy them

for the evil things they’ve done.

You, Yahweh, are King forever and ever!

All the nations will perish from your land.

Yahweh, you have heard the desires of the humble

and seen their hopes.

You will hear their cries and encourage their hearts.

The orphans and the oppressed will be terrified no longer,

for you will bring them justice, and no earth-dweller will trouble them again.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 10 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 83]

God, don’t shut me out;

don’t give me the silent treatment, O God.

Your enemies are out there whooping it up,

the God-haters are living it up;

They’re plotting to do your people in,

conspiring to rob you of your precious ones.

“Let’s wipe this nation from the face of the earth,”

they say; “scratch Israel’s name off the books.”

And now they’re putting their heads together,

making plans to get rid of you.

Edom and the Ishmaelites,

Moab and the Hagrites,

Gebal and Ammon and Amalek,

Philistia and the Tyrians,

And now Assyria has joined up,

Giving muscle to the gang of Lot.

Do to them what you did to Midian,

to Sisera and Jabin at Kishon Brook;

They came to a bad end at Endor,

nothing but dung for the garden.

Cut down their leaders as you did Oreb and Zeeb,

their princes to nothings like Zebah and Zalmunna,

With their empty brags, “We’re grabbing it all,

grabbing God’s gardens for ourselves.”

My God! I’ve had it with them!

Blow them away!

Tumbleweeds in the desert waste,

charred sticks in the burned-over ground.

Knock the breath right out of them, so they’re gasping

for breath, gasping, “God.”

Bring them to the end of their rope,

and leave them there dangling, helpless.

Then they’ll learn your name: “God,”

the one and only High God on earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 83 (The Message)

[Psalm 11]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

I am already in the soft embrace of the Eternal,

so why do you beckon me to leave, saying,

“Fly like a bird to the mountains.

Look! The wicked approach with bows bent,

sneaking around in the shadows,

setting their arrows against their bowstrings to pierce everyone whose heart is pure.

If the foundations are crumbling,

is there hope for the righteous?”

But the Eternal has not moved; He remains in His holy temple.

He sits squarely on His heavenly throne.

He observes the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve, examining us within and without,

exploring every fiber of our beings.

The Eternal searches the hearts of those who are good,

but He despises all those who can’t get enough of perversion and violence.

If you are evil, He will rain hot lava over your head,

will fill your cup with burning wind and liquid fire to scorch your insides.

The Eternal is right in all His ways;

He cherishes all that is upright.

Those who do what is right in His eyes will see His face.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 11 (The Voice)

[loislaneinvestigatesauthors]

From lab science to the art of the novel: historical fantasy writer Linda McCabe

Linda McCabe speaks in Oakland, CA at 2pm at the California Writers’ Club meeting at 1204 Preservation Park Way this Sunday, October 21st. Open to the public for a $10 cash donation at the door. 

More info on the Club and on Linda here. 

1. What drew you in to Greek mythology and to the story of Orlando  Furioso? Why do you think those stories have appealed to readers  throughout time? I started reading Greek mythology as a small girl. I loved the larger than life stories and characters. The first time I ever stayed awake reading until the wee hours of the night was with D'Aulaire's Book of Greek Myths. I adore that book. It is wonderfully illustrated and it introduces each member of the Greek pantheon with their own story. My favorite Greek goddess is Athena. She is powerful, respected and derives her strength from her intellect and not from beauty.  She's not only the goddess of wisdom and victory, but also of the arts such as weaving tapestries. One of my favorite stories is of a mortal who was a gifted weaver who had boasted she was more skilled than Athena. The goddess disguised herself, tried to get the girl to take back her words. The girl, named Arachne, refused to take back the boast and instead issued a challenge to the goddess. Athena threw off her disguise and accepted the challenge. They both created incredible tapestries. While Athena's depicted the Olympian gods in all of their glory, Arachne's made fun of Zeus and his various wives. Athena's wrath brought about the destruction of the irreverent artwork and transformed the talented girl into a spider who would weave for all eternity.

Harsh, but fair punishment. Pride cometh before the fall. Hubris. Greek mythology is filled with these kinds of stories. I started reading Orlando furioso in 2003 when I was engaged in online debates regarding the Harry Potter series. This was before the series was finished, and there were many various theories floating about. One theory involved the symbolic meaning of hippogriffs. I wound up reading Ariosto's masterpiece because that was the first time a hippogriff was used as a character in literature. I became drawn to the love story between Bradamante and Ruggiero, which was considered one of many subplots in this epic poem. Bradamante reminded me of Athena. She was a respected warrior who was cool under pressure. The major difference is that Bradamante fell in love, whereas Athena never allowed herself to love a man. Bradamante was the niece of Charlemagne and was a Christian. She fell in love with an honorable warrior who was a Muslim and on the opposing side of a holy war. Their love was kept secret until they could find a way to be together with honor, and there were many, many obstacles for this couple to overcome. She was even given the Call to Adventure to rescue him when he was being held captive by a wizard. It is amazing that this incredible kick-ass heroine was created over 500 years ago, but has somehow become largely forgotten over the years.

These stories become timeless because they demonstrate heroism and perseverance as well as Karmic punishments for those without honor. 2. How do you know when you've done enough research and you're ready to write? This is a gut feeling. There's a point when I feel like I am procrastinating more than I am doing research. Sometimes I just have to shift gears and stop researching if the aspect I am trying to understand isn't "knowable" or maybe isn't all that important. I spent over a week wondering about diapering in the middle ages. This was all because I wanted to have a character do some action in a scene with her baby. I started imagining the characters in my setting and thought of where would the dirty diaper would be placed. Then I wondered how the diaper would be closed, (did they have diaper pins?) How often would they wash them? How many diapers would a noble household have for a baby? Some research suggested that babies might not have been put in diapers at all. Instead, the parents would watch them carefully and hold them at arm's length over straw to absorb urine flow. I considered this matter for too long. I was obsessing over a minor detail that did not enhance or further the plot. I decided to take it out and not "go there." Instead, I described the baby as been freshly bathed in the scene.

3. Conversely, where can you go to make sure your writing doesn't contain obvious  historical errors or anachronisms? Are there 'continuity readers' or  'historical readers' available to regular authors?  I have several beta readers who have looked at various passages or  aspects of the story to give me this kind of feedback. Finding experts  for your writing can be a challenge. I suggest during the writing  process to try and identify those who may be able to provide specific feedback. I joined different list servs where I could ask experts questions that I had been unable to find answers to on my own. 

There is a wonderful internet resource for a multitude of disciplines called H-Net for Humanities and Social Services. https://networks.h-net.org/ I recommend that resource for those who wish to find experts. Go to the website, explore different listings, subscribe and read back postings to get familiar with the style of discussion before posting. Most of the subscribers are university faculty members, so being an "independent scholar" will set you apart. Don't be intimidated, but try not to ask overly broad questions showing that you haven't done research on your own first. Tell them you are a writer and have a few specific questions. Or write a post stating that you are looking for beta readers for historical accuracy who will give feedback. Many of the professors read fiction in their spare time, make an appeal asking for help in identifying errors might work.  Finding good 'continuity readers' is a more difficult nut to crack. You have to find close, careful readers who will notice nit-picky items that contradict earlier details in your story. This cannot be done effectively for beta readers who get a few pages here and there. You need critique group members who will read large chunks or the entire manuscript *and* will focus on minutiae. For example, someone who will pull up a calendar from the year your story takes place and notice if there really was a full moon on the night of the murder. That's the kind of thing I do for my critique group partners, and sometimes they appear annoyed prior to expressing gratitude for my corrections/feedback.

In regard to historical errors or anachronisms, I have had some instances where I balance historical accuracy versus dramatic needs. I initially try to find a way to make the historical record work, but there are times when it would lessen the drama. Or it would cause the narrative to become immensely more complicated. In those occasions, I will choose dramatic necessity over historical accuracy and write a disclaimer in my author notes to detail the reasons behind my decision. I feel that the greatest sin a writer can commit is to bore readers. 

An example of this type of decision regarded the Medieval walls around the city of Paris. The poets described a complex set of ramparts that were first built by King Philippe Auguste in the 12th century.  The story of Charlemagne and his knights is set in the 9th century. I considered removing the historically inaccurate walls, but quickly realized that my already complicated plot would become exponentially worse. I decided to keep the walls and mention my dilemma in my author notes. After all, I am retelling a grand story originally written to entertain one noble family in Italy and it featured wars that never took place with mostly fictional characters, magical realms and flying hippogriffs. Therefore, know that I took care in telling this tale, so please just enjoy the ride! 4. I notice you also write essays and editorials in addition to your  historical fiction. Would you agree with the advice I myself heard as an aspiring novelist, to get other pieces of writing published before you  go out there to agents and publishers with a first novel? While I believe that having publication credits is important to demonstrate your authority as a writer, it isn't as important to an agent as the sample pages of your completed novel. Writing an article or short story is like running a 100 yard dash while writing a novel is more like running a marathon.  Perfecting the art of the query letter or verbal pitching to an agent in order to get the request to submit sample pages is a different skill set than regular writing. Once you get the go-ahead to send your manuscript and synopsis, your overall craft will be on full view. The agent and subsequent potential publishers will only green light a publishing contract based on the strength of your finished product and not because you had an op-ed published in the LA Times. Honestly, I think getting a pithy book description will do more for you with agents and publishers than having multiple credits to your name. However, it is a different matter if you are writing non-fiction. If you had publication credits in magazines or peer-reviewed journals and you were submitting a book proposal on the same topic - it might help influence the decision of the agent/publisher to sign you as a client/author.

5. How do your feel your "day job" has influenced your writing? And what is your educational background? While I love writing, my education is in the sciences. My undergraduate degree is in Laboratory Medicine and my master's degree is as an Historian of Science. I also have training in competitive public speaking from high school and acting in plays. My only creative writing classes were in screenwriting and those were taken without being applied to any degree program. Screenwriting helped me analyze scenes in movies to determine how best to distill narrative and reveal characters into scenes that further a plot. Participating in debate and drama helped me understand how to craft a strong argument and then overlay my steel girder like-logic with pathos to stir the emotional senses. As a laboratorian, over the years I have developed a keen analytical mind. One of my previous jobs, I managed the organ recipient list of over one hundred patients for a laboratory in downtown Detroit. I reviewed and monitored changes and updates to the statewide list published by the Organ Procurement Agency of Michigan. Soon after I took over that responsibility  I discovered and corrected numerous errors on our list of patients . Learning to have a scope of memory to track and manage so many details helped prepare me for adapting a story of epic grandeur with a massive cast of characters.

Similarly, having been trained in historical methods of researching for my master's degree, I feel obligated in learning about the time, place, cultural practices, etc., in my story. I have done my best to ground this story in a real time and place, giving my narrative the historical details of ninth century Francia. So once I decided on doing an adaptation of Orlando furioso, I had to learn about Medieval history and the life of Charlemagne. I immersed myself in research while simultaneously trying to determine parts of the story to retain and parts to cut. After doing an intense analysis of my source material, I discovered continuity errors. One enchanted castle was located in three (!) separate and distinct locations. The narrative is immensely complicated, and I doubt the patrons noticed the discrepancies let alone raised any objections. However, I am well aware of L.O.O.N.s (the League of Obsessive Nitpickers) and so I had to fix one location for this enchanted castle and made this determination based on my plot necessities. I also moved several locations of other plot points that I felt made more logical sense.

The Carolingian legend cycle spanned several centuries in the south of France and north of Italy. The jongleurs and troubadours told and retold these legends for the nobles and the masses. By the time Ludovico Ariosto and Matteo Maria Boiardo wrote their masterpieces, these characters were popular. My contribution in this legend cycle is to transform a portion of these stories into a tale for modern day audiences using current storytelling techniques. ***side note*** The Italians do not capitalize the second word in the title of the poems. I'm not sure why, because I do not speak Italian or know the particulars of Italian grammar rules. So my use of Orlando furioso and not Orlando Furioso is not accidental, it is purposeful. If you do a quick Google search, the results for capitalization are not consistent. However, once this was pointed out to me, I have endeavored to follow the Italian convention.

More about Linda McCabe and her current works here.