#i used this article for a paper a few months back. fun to read knowing how much music technology has evolved since

[veggiecats]

from synthesizers, anyone? from music educators journal, 1971

[kiruamon]

Paper Heart (Part 2: The Present)

Sorry, sorry for the wait. The chapter keept going and going and ended up to be so much longer than I planned! (And I had to translate it which took also a good while.) But now I wish you much fun with the second part of my silly little story!

_

Has it really been almost a year since you started living by yourself? Living all alone in this house you call home. Sometimes it still feels like your parents could suddenly show up at the driveway of the house. As if nothing had ever happened. Just like they always did. Sometimes they disappeared off the face of the earth for a few weeks because of a job, sometimes even for months. The longest period - when you were sixteen - had been six months that felt like forever. But at least back then they had called or sent you a letter every now and then. However, when your parents left for the last time, they only told you that they had to go away for a while because of work. That you should take good care of the house. Where if anything should happen, you would find their papers in case of an emergency. Just in case you needed those. To tell the truth, to this day you have no idea what to do with their research notes. The mountains of folders contain dozens of indexes and random old newspaper and internet articles and handwritten notes on all the junk in the basement that must have collected layer after layer of dust there over the years. Broken, maybe antique furniture and pseudo-occult stuff that your parents collected there while keeping you away from it. You lost interest in trying to look around down there many years ago.

All you know for sure is that one of the reasons your parents were almost never home is all that stuff down there. As a child, you often felt alone because of it and… …you still do whenever you're in this house. It feels too big and empty for one person to live here. But you had this feeling even before they disappeared. It has only grown a bit over the last year. That's probably why you spend so much time in the garden or go on strolls for hours in the nearby fields and woods. Luckily, you can at least count on your best friend not to forget you. Mitchell and you hang out a lot. Either at his place or here. Sometimes he brings his little brother Gavyn with him. It's nice having them around. You're even grateful when Mitch - as he often does - just waltzes in on you without a warning. You know he's worried about you. That he knows that you quickly feel uneasy all alone, even though you always insist that you are fine with it. That you are used to it and can handle it.

… you wish you knew if your parents were okay. If they had an accident. Or… just abandoned you for good, although you don't know why they would do that. Was it because of you? Or was it because of them? Or neither… Or maybe they got into some dangerous business. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time with their strange research. Maybe that's why they can't come back. Of course, you did call the police at some point. But since your parents are adults and you are also of age, the whole incident fizzled out pretty quickly. You remember how tense you had been watching the news for a while. Always with a lingering fear of hearing or reading their names when an accident or another disaster was mentioned. The police simply assumed that they left for good. By now, you almost believe that, too. Either way, there is no point in thinking about it any longer. You've already gone over this issue too many times in your head to waste any more hours on it when there's nothing you can do about it anyway.

Neither does it do you any good to stick to their old rules any longer when they are no longer there. You've always ignored the basement ever since you got in trouble for playing down there when you were in elementary school. You don't remember the details of the incident very well. Only that you must have been alone at home that night and probably felt lonelier than usual. And although you always followed the rules of your parents, you decided to go down to the basement to look around. Of all the things that had been stored down there, it had been some huge, old doll that had caught your eye. It had a weird chamber in the chest and for some reason that you can't remember because it was so long ago, you had made a heart for it and put it in there and pretended it was alive. You probably just wished for someone to be there for you that night. What you clearly remember is the scolding you got from your parents the morning after. For being down there and playing with things that were probably too valuable for the hands of a child. It's hard to blame them for that - especially since they'd never scolded you otherwise - even if their reaction seemed a bit over the top to you today. You also remember… how you cried your eyes out when you saw the torn pieces of the paper heart on the kitchen table.

After that, you were never down there again. Your parents had hidden the key to the basement in a new place. Some years later you stumbled upon the hiding place by pure coincidence, but you never took the key and acted as if you didn't know where it was until today. It simply didn't bother you anymore what old stuff your parents stored down there. Normally you wouldn't have seen any reason to go down to the basement, but this morning when you were half asleep and staggering down the stairs to the first floor, you thought you heard a noise coming from there. Maybe mice. Hopefully not rats. In any case, you decided to go down there after work to check things out. Maybe you have to set up some live traps in case of trouble and to get rid of the uninvited visitors before the situation gets out of control.

Your fingers feel the underside of the desk top in your parents' study and bump into the taped key there. Good. So the hiding spot hasn't changed again. Carefully, you peel off the tape and detach it from the old key and make your way to the basement stairs. Arriving in front of the door, you try to insert the key into the keyhole. The old key doesn't go in easily, but with a little willpower and a few rattles, you manage to unlock the door. Maybe the door has warped a bit over the years… something you could take a closer look at another time to see if you can fix it. For now, you just open the door and shiver a little as a cold breeze brushes your bare arms. Weird. It must be because of how long the basement had been sealed off. There are no windows down here that could be left open. A dusty smell hits you as you take a step into the dark room and your hand searches the wall next to you for the light switch that should be somewhere around here. You feel plastic under your fingers. Luckily, the old ceiling lamp still comes to life as you flip the light switch. "Let's see… ", as expected, there is a lot of old, dusty junk lying around on the shelves and in the glass cabinets. Everything is marked with some kind of numbered label, which at least hints at a certain type of system. You put yourself in motion and keep looking for traces of furry roommates somewhere in the nooks and crannies, wandering deeper and deeper into the miniature labyrinth of old furniture and other curiosities. From time to time you have to squeeze yourself through particularly narrow passages. But so far… no sign of any mice, rats or other animals. That's actually pretty good. Maybe the noise did come from outside. You have almost reached the end of the room when you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

Between a shelf and a nearby glass cabinet, a figure crouches on the floor, half slumped over. Confused, you turn your head to get a better look at it. "Oh. So this is where you've been." Well… where else if not here, right? A small smile flashes across your face as you gaze at the lifeless doll. Seeing it definitely brings back a certain nostalgia. Without hesitation, you approach it and squat down in front of it to get a better look. By now, it looks even gloomier than you remember it. Cobwebs hang between its head and shoulder and you feel sorry for the puppet, how it sits so forgotten and lonely here in the dark. You don't think twice as you reach out your hand and gently wipe away the cobwebs hanging from it. "Well old friend?" you murmur softly to it. It feels a bit like you're seeing an old friend again after a long time. "It's been some time. Do you still recognize me?" Of course, it doesn't give you an answer. How could it? Back then, you just imagined it was talking to you. But it's okay. Your hand wanders further, strokes the cracked chest and you can feel the grooves that hint at the hidden chamber behind it. That's right. There had been a flap. Automatically, you search for a hold with your fingernails and gently pull on the flap until it opens, exposing the chamber in the doll's chest. You blink, staring curiously into the secret chamber. The cavity is as black as if its inside were covered with soot. Or as if it was swallowing up all the light inside. But perhaps it is simply due to the sparse light conditions down here, you think. For one night, a heart had rested in this chamber. A messily cut paper heart that you had decorated with all kinds of stickers, drawings and trinkets to give it to your friend. But now there is only this hole in which yawning emptiness exists. The sight is downright depressing. "Not much going on in there, huh?" you ask quietly, knowing you're just talking to yourself. Gingerly, you close the flap for now. "Well, maybe we can clean you up a bit. Wipe off all that grime." The cracks look rather bad though. There are pieces missing everywhere and you are not sure if it is possible to repair them. Maybe an expert could fix it, but you don't have your hopes up too high.

"Come on. Let's get you upstairs first and give you a closer look," you grab one of its long arms and carefully put it over your shoulder, then you do the same with the other one and hoist it onto your back so you can give it a piggyback ride. "Whew. Okay… not exactly a lightweight, are we?," you grunt softly. Your old friend is much heavier and bigger than it looked while sitting. You have to adjust the weight on your back a bit before you find a good footing where it isn't about to fall off your back. Its arms and hands dangle lifelessly back and forth in front of your chest. "Hold on tight I don't want you to fall off," you mutter half-jokingly and make your way back to the door with slow and careful steps. It's not so easy with your new friend on your back, but somehow you manage to shuffle past the junk without any mishaps. You use your elbow to flip the light switch and carefully push the door shut with your foot as you step out of the basement. The stairs are a bit of a challenge and you move up more slowly to avoid losing your footing on the steps and tumbling all the way back down with your friend. Otherwise that would probably end in more than a few scratches.

When you finally reach the kitchen and set the old doll down on one of the chairs, you need a brief pause to catch your breath. Normally, you're used to lugging heavy stuff around because of your work in the garden and your job. But at least you can take a better look at the doll up here in the daylight. However… sadly you realize that it is in an even worse condition than you already saw in the basement. The fabric of the pants, the night cap and the collar around the neck are completely moth-eaten. There are chipped off larger and smaller pieces all over the arms, hands, and body. The odd spikes on its head are sharp and clearly there are larger pieces missing. A weird piece of paper with some illegible scrawl is stuck to the back of its head, which you figure out is pretty easy to peel off. Since it doesn't seem to belong directly to the doll, the paper just ends up in the trash can for paper waste. After that, the inspection continues and you pucker your mouth a bit as you spot the next big damage. "Oh boy… that looks bad." A large hole gapes at the back of the doll's body. Thankfully, it doesn't seem to extend all the way up into the chest cavity.

And yet you have the feeling that your friend is probably beyond saving. Perhaps you would do him a greater favor if you showed him some mercy and sent him to the scrapyard… You hesitate, walk to the kitchen sink and grab one of the cleaning rags to soak it with water and wring it out. Before you know it you're already wiping the dust and dirt off his face. "Let's clean you up before we do anything else," even if you're going to take him to the scrapyard tomorrow, you want to at least do this much for him. You give him a small encouraging smile and continue to wipe him clean, rinsing the rag every now and then to remove the stubborn layers of dirt, dust and unidentifiable stains that cling to his body.

It's already evening when you're finally done. He still gives off a rather sorry sight, but it's still a little better than it was before. There's not much more you can do for him… Except… You raise your head a little. There is one thing, perhaps, that you can do. Just for old times' sake. And maybe also because you feel you owe it to your eight-year-old self. Faster than you can reconsider, you've already brought a pair of scissors and some old craft supplies from your room into the kitchen and spread them out on the table, eager to get to work. For his final journey you want to give him something on his way. You are still no expert at crafting. But at least this time the heart-shaped cardboard template looks a bit better than the old version. And maybe you're a tad proud of that. You try to remember what the original heart looked like, but you can't quite remember the exact details. What color did you choose for the heart? Red? No, it was definitely not red. Your gaze wanders over the colorful sheets of paper in front of you. Blue? Yellow? Both? You think you somehow used both colors. "Hmmm… how about this… ", you use your template to cut out both a yellow and blue heart and simply glue the two hearts together. Now you have both - a yellow and blue side for the heart!

What else? You glued all kinds of stuff on it back then. But you have no idea where your old sticker books have gone. Probably such old stickers wouldn't stick very well anyway. You could try to draw something on the front and back. But well, that's not your big strength either. Perhaps it could be a little simpler, after all, it's the thought that counts in the end. So you decide to write down in words whatever comes to your mind and what you probably wanted to express with your decorations as a child. The blue side facing you comes first. And immediately the star and moon stickers pop into your mind. So you write down the words moon and stars. What next? What else can you think of? You've got plenty of room. "Maybe… night, sleep, rest… um… whisper?", slowly the blue space starts to fill up a bit. It's like you're playing an association game. All by itself, your head adds more words to the previous ones, which your hand immediately writes down. Shadows, because the night is full of them and not everything is as bad as it seems at first sight. At night the world seems mysterious, almost strange. As if it was full of magic. You also think of music. Some soft melody that makes you fall asleep. Perhaps you only think of it because you turned on the radio earlier to fill the silence in the house. But you wonder a little what it would say about you, if someone would analyze this. Anyway. You turn the heart over to the yellow side.

"If one side is the moon, then this one is the sun," plus the friendly yellow just fits too well. Good. So what do you associate with the sun? "The day. Warmth," plenty motivated you write down your thoughts. The day brings fun with it. You can meet your friends to laugh and play games with. You have more pep in your step and are more motivated. Wow, some of that sounded pretty much like stuff a kid would write down and you laugh quietly at yourself. "Well, it fits good enough," your younger self would definitely agree with what you wrote down here. You look over at the doll with a grin. What else could you write down? "What else could I give you to take along?" you ask yourself quietly, looking down at the paper heart again. There were so many things. So many wonderful things. "May there always be a light inside your heart - no matter how small - that will guide you even through the darkest of times," for the blue side. "May you find the courage inside you to face even your worst fears and never forget how much beauty there is in this world," for the yellow side. … okay, okay, now that sounded a bit like something you directed at yourself. Super cheesy as well, you think to yourself, a tad embarrassed but smiling nonetheless. But hey, no one but you would ever get to read this anyway.

Good, now there's hardly any space left on the two pages. Your eyes roam over all the craft supplies. You notice the little tins filled with colored glitter. Hmmm… Would that be too over the top, perhaps? "… Oh, why not?" Surely a little extra sparkle can't hurt! So you carefully drag one of the glue sticks between the written words over the yellow side of the heart a few times, and then sprinkle some gold colored glitter on top of it. After that, you have to be patient until it dries before you turn the side over and coat it with glue as well and then decorate it with silver glitter. "Nice work," you say with a proud grin and examine both sides of your work once again with satisfaction.

"It might not be exactly the same, but I hope you don't hold it against me," you joke light-heartedly, looking into the hollow eyes of your silent friend. Now that the heart is finished, you get up from your seat and stand in front of the doll that had been waiting patiently on the chair next to you for the last half an hour. Gently you open the flap to the chamber in its chest again. Even up here with better lighting, its insides remain shrouded in total darkness. Pretty weird. But you don't think too much about it. You shrug your shoulders and carefully grasp your self-made heart. "Even if it doesn't make you whole anymore… Maybe it will at least fill a little of the emptiness inside you and can accompany you on your final journey." Gently, you place the heart in his chest, with a feeling as if you were dipping your hand in ice water until you pull it back out of the chamber, shuddering. You frown in bewilderment at this sensation and look at your hand. Nothing out of the ordinary to be seen. Except... for all the glitter and glue clinging to it! You chuckle softly at the sight. You'd better wash that off or you'll have that stuff all over your face and on your clothes later. But before you do, you carefully close the flap and throw a warm smile at your silent friend. "It's almost like old times now," you say with tenderness in your voice. Well, except for the fact that you're not a little kid anymore. Other than that, it's amazing how little has changed. You're still talking to a doll. Maybe you should try socializing more if you're so eager for someone to talk to. Your eyes wander to the clock above the kitchen door. "Eight-thirty already?" you hadn't realized it was so late. A glance out the window also tells you that the sun has nearly disappeared. A last strip of red light blinks over the hedge that surrounds the back garden. Time to make yourself something for dinner, you guess.

You turn away from the doll and head for the sink to wash your sticky hands clean before preparing dinner. You've barely taken three steps when a noise causes you to flinch suddenly. It sounds as if something heavy had fallen to the floor somewhere behind you. The doll, it goes through your mind and you already imagine in your thoughts how it must have slipped off the chair. … did it stay in one piece? Worried, you want to check if everything is all right with it and hope that it survived the fall without further damage. But you don't even have a chance to turn around and look at the doll to confirm your suspicions. Right and left to your side, hands shoot out of nowhere, grabbing you before you even realize what's happening and dragging you backwards with such force that you can't breathe. You are far too perplexed to scream. It takes a moment before a feeling of panic strikes you. But now that it's there, it swells with every second, like a spreading fire in a wooden house. Your heart pounds as if you've done a sprint and speeds up even more as you feel your body pressed tightly against something stiff. Your breathing becomes more frantic. What is this? What is happening here? The hairs on your arms stand up as a cold shiver runs over them.

Someone has grabbed you, you finally realize. Someone has entered your home and is holding you captive. Unnaturally large fingers dig into the fabric of your T-shirt, fueling the sinking feeling in your stomach that you are in some serious trouble right now. That's definitely not Mitch, who snuck in through the open patio door and is just trying to surprise you with an unannounced visit. You don't dare turn your head to look at your captor. The stranger still says nothing. Gives no instructions or anything else that tells you what his intentions might be. He just holds you tight. Which only makes the whole thing so much worse, because it fuels your brain with the worst possible outcomes and makes you break out in cold sweat. Will you end up with a knife in your back or chest any minute now? Are they going to drag you off? Do they want to rob you? Or does this have something to do with your parents and whoever this is wants to get their revenge on you now, too, for some crazy reason?

"Look… I-I have… n-no idea w-what you want… b-but if it's just money or something… t-then just… t-take whatever you want… " Your voice is shaking like crazy, just like the rest of your body. If they weren't holding you, your legs probably would have already given way. You feel tears welling up in your eyes from the desperation of this situation and which are clouding your vision. You are terrified. And still they remain silent without telling you what they want from you. Seconds are passing insufferably slow, just feeding your panic and fear even more. One of the two hands removes itself from you. This is probably the moment when the knife comes! Or a pistol… In the movies and newspapers, it's always like that. Your stomach tightens as if it could already feel the blood flowing from the upcoming wound. Breathing becomes almost impossible by now, and you squeeze your eyes so tightly shut that it already hurts. You don't want to see it coming when it happens and you hope it will be quick. So fast that you might not even notice.

Something brushes your cheek. Cold. It doesn't feel like a knife or a gun, though. Your irritation-flooded body needs a moment to identify it as a finger. The stranger strokes your tear-soaked cheek. He does so with such extreme care that you blink in disbelief and open your eyes. You're still alive, you realize, and gasp for some air. Only now do you notice that the hand around your belly did also become much looser. Maybe you could escape, if only you were able to think clearly. His fingers feel cool while they move from your cheek to your chin, slowly lifting it until something other than the kitchen ceiling enters your field of vision. You're not sure what you're seeing at first. Your head only processes bits and pieces that catch your eye. You see dark blue fabric, yellow stars on the nightcap that dangles from the intruder's head. A shiny golden bell swings back and forth above your head, making a soft tinkling noise. The stranger's eye sockets glow in a dim, soft red light. One white eye and one red eye stare down at you without blinking once. The round face is split into a light and dark side. Almost like a crescent moon in the night sky. Moon and stars, you think. It is impossible to take your eyes off this sight and you may have held your breath for a moment as you slowly put the pieces together in front of you. This is not a mask. This is not a man. Or even a human. Not an intruder. Not a stranger. You brought him up here yourself. He looks different. But you still think you recognize him. You see his mouth, stretched into a wide grin, which certainly wasn't there before and how it slightly shifts. His voice is soft and like a whisper as he mouths a single word to you: "Friend."

"…" The lump in your throat loosens while your body continues to feel tense. "… hi… ", you stammer quietly. It's all your overwhelmed head can manage as a response at this moment, while you still stare up into the face of the doll that has come to life. Somewhere on the way between the basement and the kitchen, you must have hit your head pretty hard. Maybe you did fall down the stairs trying to carry him up here. Lying unconscious in front of the basement door and imagining something. This simply can't be real… It's impossible. And yet you can still feel his fingers on your skin and how the weight of his arm now rests gently on your shoulder instead of pressing against your stomach. … Maybe it's a very realistic dream….

"… would… ", your voice falters for a moment and you need a second attempt to find it. "Would… you maybe let me go?", you ask as careful as possible and indeed, surprisingly, he follows your request. "Th-thank you," you mumble under your breath, quietly and somewhat uncertainly, almost expecting that he might grab you again right away. But nothing like that happens. You slowly take a few shaky steps forward before you turn around on unsteady legs to get a better look at what you're dealing with here. He's… freakin' huge, and that's despite the fact that he's standing in front of you in a somewhat crouched position. His head turns slightly to the side, his eyes watching your every move curiously, like a cat seeing a mouse for the first time in its life. You swallow a little.

Apparently you're not the only one of you who wants to know what he's dealing with here. You run a hand over your head and through your hair. Your hands still feel somewhat sweaty. Haha… hah… this just has to be a dream… just… a very realistic dream… A doll can't just come to life! There's no such thing! It cannot exist. You look past him to the chair where you had put the doll earlier, but of course it's empty. After all, he is standing right in front of you. You swallow again and look up at him. He hasn't moved an inch. Almost as if he's waiting for you to do something. You honestly have no idea what he expects from you. Or if he really expects anything from you. Take a deep breath. In and out. In and out. Calm down. There seems to be no danger to your life for now. "So… you… are?" you ask in a first timid attempt to learn more about the being before you. "A friend," comes his immediate answer. He sounds fully convinced of it. Like it's a simple fact that he establishes in his unusual whispering voice. "O-okay… okay," that's the second time he's said that now. You're still pretty nervous, but it's nowhere near as bad as it was a few minutes ago, and seeing him right in front of you like this makes it all a little less scary. You can handle it. Just stay calm. You put your sweaty and glittery palms together, lift them in front of your face, take another deep breath, and lower them again. It's not the worst sign that he's calling you his friend. Or so you hope… But it's also not what you wanted to know. "I meant more… what you are?" The question seems to confuse him, he stares at you, tilting his head from side to side as if thinking. Then, suddenly, he turns it further and further - like one of those fortune wheels at fairgrounds - until his head completes a full turn and pauses again in its original position. "Can't remember," is his only reply, while there's a far-too-large, unreadable grin on his face. Oooooookay, that was a teeny tiny bit creepy now… Well, more creepy than the whole situation already is. But aside from… whatever that just was, he still shows no signs on wanting to hurt you. So you scrape up your courage and try again with a different approach. "Do you have a name?" Anxiously, you wait. His eyes linger on you. "No." "Oh, no name huh," that surprises you a little. Somehow you had assumed he would have one. "Do you just not remember it or have you never had one?" is why you want to know, feeling your tension lessen a little with each word you two exchange. "Yes." You frown. Um… that wasn't a very helpful answer… You start to wonder if he can even understand you properly. Silently, you sigh. Somehow this isn't going anywhere. But you haven't given up yet! "Are you… really the doll from the basement?" you wonder quietly, directing the question more to yourself than to him, because it all seems so unreal to you. But it is strange… Where were the spikes on his head? You don't see any broken pieces lying around on the floor, which would had suggested that they had fallen off… And… besides, now that you think about it, he doesn't look so worn out anymore. The damaged areas on his body and clothes seem to have vanished completely… Strangely enough, at the mention of the basement, he ducks his head a bit and frowns a little. Almost as if the thought of this place makes him uncomfortable. Except for the discomfort on his side, he seems to be quite willing to answer you, though, because you get another short yes from him as confirmation. Good. At least this suspicion has been confirmed. So much for that…

You're still not quite sure if this is all really happening or not. Actually, there are a lot of reasons that would speak against it. You could just test it out. What should you do again to see if you are dreaming or not? Oh yes, pinch your arm. You raise your left arm in front of your chest and pinch your skin once with your fingers. Ouch! That hurt more than you expected it to! A hand comes into your field of vision, grabs your hand and holds it tightly. Startled, you look up to see a red eye and a white eye staring back at you, visibly concerned. "You're hurting yourself," his voice sounds slightly worried. His reaction surprises you so much that you automatically stutter out an, "Sorry." Your mind, meanwhile, is spinning. It hurt.

The spot on your arm still throbs mildly from the pain. And you clearly feel his hand resting around your wrist. This… this can't possibly be real. It would be beyond absurd. Far from all logic. As if in trance, you raise your free hand, placing it shakily on his face, because you simply have to make sure. He holds still, not shying away from your touch even if he seems a bit surprised by it. Slowly you stroke over every little bump and dip. Tracing the little grooves in his face with your fingers. It feels far too real to be a dream. While it should be impossible, you realize that this isn't a daydream. He is really here. Just like you're really here. "But how… " you whisper and fall silent again. You can't help but remember the half-faded memory of that evening. Your first visit in the basement. Your first meeting with your "friend". A doll. So big that you fitted into its lap. That you pretended it was real. Because you felt lonely and didn't wanted to be alone. You spent an entire evening with him as a child. Your throat feels like it's closing up. Your parents never really scolded you before. Except back then. They knew, you realize, and you see the pitiful remains of the torn paper heart as clearly before your eyes as if they were actually lying there in front of you. You cried for so long, even days later you were heartbroken and felt terrible. Because your parents had taken your friend's heart from him. 'Cause they had torn it into little pieces that you couldn't have patched up together with all the duct tape in the world. And because they had locked him back in the dark basement all alone. Oh god… that just… couldn't… be… Finally you begin to understand what's happening here. And at the same time you feel as if you don't understand anything anymore. Confused, you withdraw your hand from his face. "How can that be? How can it be that you… that you are alive?" In your heart you already know the answer, but you need to hear it. Because head-wise, you just can't understand it. Because it shouldn't be possible. Because such things as magic and the like don't really exist. Should not exist. Magic doesn't exist. Not like in the stories you know from your books. He looks at you, the index finger of his free hand first pointing at you, then tapping against the closed flap on his chest. "You gifted us with a heart," his hand rests on his chest in an downright tender gesture, almost as if he can feel the paper heart beating inside it. Wow… that's just… all a bit too much at once. "I… I don't understand how… I mean it was just… ", just a paper heart. That's all it was. So how… You didn't even realize he was still holding your right hand. Until he slowly lets go of it and you feel like you're about to lose the ground under your feet.

In the next moment his hands are already wrapped around you again and this time you understand that he is doing this to pull you into a hug. He never intended to harm you… This time he is also much more careful with you. Like you might break if he touches you too roughly. Or maybe he's just worried you might have another panic attack. You just let him hold you. And although you feel completely overwhelmed, you don't even feel a hint of fear anymore, unlike before. No idea if that is wise or not. Maybe it would be normal to be afraid. To run away from him as fast as possible. But… instead, all you can think about is how long he was locked away in the darkness. Completely abandoned and nearly forgotten with time. Perhaps he had hoped that you would set him free? That you as his friend would come one day and save him? How lonely it must have been to spend all those years down there, without knowing when someone would finally come to look after him… "… what are we supposed to do now?", you hear yourself wondering and feel your hands clinging to him, because you fear that otherwise one of you might just vanish into thin air.

You have no idea how long you both stood there before your head finally felt clear enough to fully register your surroundings. At some point, he started humming softly to himself and stroking your back. Much like you would do with a frightened child. It's soothing. You have to admit that much to yourself. Your forehead rests against his chest. Which, amazingly, actually feels a tiny bit warm and yielding. Not like a human or a normal living being, but still… He is alive. You still can't really make sense of all these things that are happening here, but… at least you've collected yourself enough that you don't feel like you're losing your mind anymore. For the time being, you hope it will stay that way. You go over all the information you've received from him so far in your head. Somehow your self-made paper heart has managed to give him some life. For the… second time. You try to remember the details of your first meeting, but it has been so awfully long ago that it is difficult for you. You think he looked a little different then. Before he came to life, he didn't look the same either. The spikes around his head are missing. And there are bells on the red bands of his wrists that definitely weren't there before. And his colors seem less pale and much more vibrant. You're not quite sure what it means. Maybe it's not too important. At least not so important that you need answers to it right away. Some questions can certainly wait. One thing is clear, though. The idea with the scrapyard is totally canceled! You already felt terrible about it when you considered that option, but now that he's alive, you have no doubt that it would be downright wrong to do that to him.

In some way, it's almost luck that your parents are gone and you now live here alone. As soon as you start thinking about it, you regret the thought. You feel guilty for thinking such things, because it sounds like you are glad that they went missing - or possibly even dead. You may have no idea why they acted the way they did back then, but maybe now that you're an adult you could have talked to them calmly about the situation? Stopped them from locking him away again? Maybe they could have given you answers to some of the questions that your friend can't seem to give you. Well… either way, there's no use thinking about it anymore. They won't be coming back… So it shouldn't be a problem to keep your friend here in the house. The nearest neighbors also live pretty far away. The house is so far out of town that usually no one comes here without a reason. So you don't have to worry about anyone discovering him soon. You don't even want to imagine the chaos that would otherwise follow. Still, you'll probably have to give it some thought. Just in case of an emergency. That is… if he even wants to stay with you… You feel your heart sink a little. You've just accepted it. But… actually, you have no idea what he is thinking about this matter. Or if he has a place where he truly belongs. To which he is drawn. You would like to ask him about it. You want to talk to him and you remember that he doesn't have a name. "Um… say… would… it be okay if I gave you a name?" Oddly tense as if you're asking him something unimaginably stupid, you await his answer. Chances are, he's not okay with this at all. His hand comes to a rest on your back in mid-motion. Carefully you look up at him, noticing that your cheeks are getting a little warmer from embarrassment, and you try to guess from his face what he is thinking. He… looks stunned. Like he didn't expect you to ask him something like that. Oh darn! It probably was a stupid idea in the first place!

"Say it," he whispers to you. His eyes resting gently on you. His smile seems much softer than before. O-okay? Guess that counts as a yes, then. "So… I was thinking… maybe… Moon," you suggest, incredibly nervous. Maybe the name is too childish… or too simple, but when you looked at him, it was the first thing that came to your mind. He just reminds you of the moon. And… and… geez. You look up at him and for some reason you're already expecting him to make a grimace. Maybe it's not such a great idea as you first thought! "I-if you don't like it then-" "Accepted," he interrupts you with a wide and almost amused grin on his face. Against all odds, he looks pleased about his new name. "Oh. Oh… good! Well then… nice to meet you Moon," you smile at him a bit sheepishly and just say the name again to test how it feels. It sounds right to call him so and he also looks at you delighted. Wow. You really feel much better now. He… likes his name. Moon likes his new name! You can't hold back the big smile that appears on your lips. Unfortunately, it is slightly dampened when you think about what you actually wanted to ask him. "Well… I… was wondering… what you're up to now. I mean now that you're alive and all," you explain in a rush. Maybe a little too rushed, but you'd rather get this over with quickly than drag out the question forever. Still, you feel uneasy about it now. As if you could lose your newly found friend right away. " … ", he seems to be thinking. His head lowers towards you. You feel it leaning gently against yours. It's strange how soothing his presence is to you. "Fulfilling your wish." What? "My… wish?" you repeat, confused and with no idea what he's talking about. You don't remember ever having mentioned anything in this direction. And he makes no attempt to be more specific. You feel his fingers digging a little more into the fabric of your shirt before they slowly loosen. The weight of his head on yours also lightens as he straightens himself a little. You have the feeling that Moon wants to say something to you. His hand moves from your back down along your arm and all the way to your hand, which he takes in his and lifts it in front of his face to take a closer look at it for whatever reason. "You should wash your hands~" For a moment, you're silent. Then the corners of your mouth move up and you can no longer manage to fight down the laughter rising in your throat.

"Seriously?" you ask, half in disbelief, half laughing. Of all the things he could have told you, this is what's bothering him the most? You fight your laughing fit with a few deep breaths, some scattered chuckles still creeping into them, and see his eyes narrow into a satisfied smile. "Fine. If you give me my hand back… " you wiggle the fingers of the hand he's holding demonstratively. "I'll gladly do as you say," you finish the sentence with an amused snort. Somehow, the tension is finally gone now. You smile kindly at him and watch as his fingers slowly let go of your hand. You had planned to wash your hands from the beginning anyway, before a certain someone stopped you by giving you the fright of your life with a hug! He follows you around the table, watching every single step you take with great interest. From opening the faucet to washing your sticky and glittery hands with a little soap under the water stream. After you finally get all the sticky and glittery stuff washed off your hands, you turn the faucet off again. Only to see a hand reach past you and push the faucet lever in front of you open and shut several times before his hand withdraws and he turns his attention fully back to you. Hmmm. You should probably give him a little crash course soon on how certain things work around the house. Just so he doesn't accidentally flood your kitchen or bathroom.

"I'll give you a little house tour later." You peer over your shoulder at him as you dry your hands on a dish towel. "I mean… " you take a deep breath. So far, none of you has said it directly. Again, you feel a small pang of nervousness rising in the pit of your stomach. It's all good. Just say what you're thinking. What's the worst that can happen? "… I was just thinking… if you don't have any other plans and… want to stay here, then it might be easier if you know quickly where everything is and how things work", you try to smile confidently, but you can't quite pull it off. Damn, you feel queasy, because you still don't know if he's planning to stay here at all. Why do you even get your hopes up? That's stupid, if not quite selfish of you. Moon can do whatever he wants and doesn't owe you anything. Besides, you would feel even worse if he would stay with you only out of pity or some weird sense of duty…

His posture stiffens a bit and he ducks down so far that he now has to look up at you instead of the other way around. "You… want us to stay?" It almost sounds like he can't quite believe it. … maybe… Moon had felt as insecure as you this whole time? Wondering if you wanted him here or if you were going to send him away. You put the towel aside, carefully turning to face him and leaning towards him to be at the same face level as he is. "I mean, you need a home, right?" Moon still seems hesitant. Or in doubt. You're not quite sure why. "Listen Moon. I… I don't want to force you to stay here if that's not what you want," you explain in a hurry, backpedaling from your last statement, thinking that he might feel compelled to follow your wishes. Perhaps you were mistaken and he was only so hesitant because he had no intention of staying here and your suggestion is now pushing him in that direction? Wow! You did exactly what you said you wouldn't do and feel upset about yourself. Hopefully you can set things straight again. "You are free to go wherever you like, I just thought… if this is a place you could stay… or wanted to stay… then… " Then… it would be nice if he would choose staying with you. But you can't say that without risking to influence his decision or make him feel bad in the end. So you keep that part to yourself.

His hand reaches out to you. You feel his so much larger, cool fingers touch your hand. Gently clasping it. His head is turned toward the floor, making it impossible for you to tell what kind of face he's making. The tip of his dark blue nightcap dangles back and forth between you. And even though you're so close to him, you have trouble understanding his voice when he finally answers you. "Are you sure? Do you really want us with you?" He sounds shaken. Almost afraid. As if he couldn't quite believe that this is what you really want. That it's too absurd that you could want him near you. Even though it hurts you to see him so crushed, you feel your little glimmer of hope from earlier coming back and gently asking to be let in. Evidently you weren't so wrong with one of your previous assumptions. Well… in this case… it might be okay if you be honest with him now. When instead of holding back, you tell him what you want to dispel his doubts. "Yes. I am sure of it. I want you to stay with me," you leave no room for doubt when you say those words. Of course you are insecure about many things and you have a thousand questions and no idea if you will find the answers to all of them. You also don't have the slightest idea what exactly he is. Surely you will encounter some problems. Perhaps not everything will always be easy. But all this doesn't change the fact that you want him to stay with you. That you want to give him a home. If you encounter problems, you will find solutions for them! That's what friends are for, after all. Together you'll get through it. "You're my friend, after all," you add with a soft smile, and with the index finger of your free hand, you give the bell on his cap a little poke, causing it to chime lightly. His head slowly lifts and finally you can look him in the face again. Moon looks like he still can't quite grasp what you've just told him, but slowly it seems to come through to him how sincere you are about it. Without hesitating, you grab his free hand and pull him up with you until you are both standing upright again. With a beaming smile on your face, you look at your tall friend. You want to show him that everything is alright and he doesn't need to worry. This time you are the one taking the initiative and hugging him. Also in order to show him that you really want him to be here. It seems to work, because you can see the corners of his mouth moving up bit by bit until he returns your smile. "Then we'll stay."

You feel sooooooo much better after this is finally settled. In fact, you're so relieved that you're just now realizing that you're pretty hungry. Well, no surprise there. Time for dinner is long overdue. The house tour will just have to wait a tad longer. Ever so carefully, you step out of the embrace. "I guess I should prepare dinner. Are you hungry too?" Could living dolls - or whatever he is - actually get hungry? And if so… did he need anything special to eat? You look at him a little questioningly, and his faceplate tilts away to the side at that unnatural angle again. Is he trying to imitate you right now? "Hungry?" he asks, and you're not quite sure if that means he's hungry or not sure what that even means. Frowning in thought, you look at his mouth. When Moon speaks, it sometimes moves, but somehow still seems like it's carved into his face, which makes it all the more amazing that Moon can show so much facial expression. The observation, while fascinating, leaves you about as wise as you were before. You have no idea if your friend here can even eat food. Logically, it seems completely impossible, but you probably won't get very far with logic, considering the situation you're in.

"Just wait… I'll prepare something and then we can test whether you can eat it or not." You don't have a better idea at hand at the moment and you doubt that an internet search on the subject would help you much. So you start rummaging around in the kitchen cupboards and the fridge for something edible that you can prepare without much effort. Always closely followed by your new roommate. A little too close, as you quickly realize when you turn away from the fridge with your hands full and almost bump into him. "Oh boy. That was close," you stifle a laugh, but have to smile nonetheless. "Moon," you say softly, drawing out the O a little. "You're welcome to watch me, but please do it in a way that I don't accidentally run into you. We don't want to cause any accidents in the kitchen. All right?" you ask him without sounding annoyed, merely giving him an amused look. Luckily, so far you've only had some vegetables, cheese, and a pack of sliced ham in your hand, and not a sharp knife. So everything turned out fine. No one got hurt and so there is no reason to panic. You can understand that this is all new to him. That he wants to know what you're doing. He's acting a bit like Gav when he was a little kid and always wanted to see what Mitch and you were doing, even if you were just fixing the tire on one of your bikes. So Moon possibly feels the same way as Mitch's little brother did back then. Thankfully, he does as you ask and stands at your side while you spread out the food from the fridge on the countertop. Yeah, this is much more comfortable when working.

Since it's already quite late, you won't start cooking anything. But at least you still have the motivation to make some sandwiches. With your newly gained freedom to move, it goes pretty quickly. In no time, the fresh vegetables are washed and cut with a knife. The tomato and cucumber slices land together with the lettuce leaves neatly arranged on the sandwich halves smeared with butter. To be on the safe side, you put cheese on two of the sandwiches and ham on two of the other sandwiches, because you're not sure which of them would be more to Moon's liking. That is, if any of it is to his taste at all. Well, you will have to try and see what works. Smiling, you lift the two plates of sandwiches. "It's nothing special, but: Dinner's ready~" you announce with a gleeful grin to your friend, and carry the plates over to a spot on the table where there's no craft stuff in the way to place them. "Come on, let's sit down." You pull up a chair for Moon and then another for yourself on which you take a seat. With the palm of your hand, you tap the empty chair next to you, smiling and motioning for him to do the same. He comes closer, his hand stroking the wooden back of the chair before he carefully sits down on it and looks at you eagerly, as if he wants to know what will happen next. The scene is actually kind of cute.

But okay, you don't want to put him on the rack any longer! You grab one of the cheese sandwiches and hold it out to Moon. "Here you go," you watch excitedly as he cautiously takes it from you and holds it closer in front of his face, where he looks at it from all sides as if he hadn't just seen how you had prepared it yourself. However… he doesn't make any attempt to eat it. On the contrary, he holds it out to you again. Huh… Does he just want to mirror your gesture from before? He seems to imitate some of the things you do. Or does he just not know what to do with it? "It's meant to be eaten," you explain, but his head just tilts to the side again, while his arm continues to be stretched out towards you. You cross your arms and put your head back for a moment, pondering. " Well… it's like… ", how do you explain eating? Oh! Maybe it would be easier to just show him! You look at him with a confident grin. "I'll show you how to do it, okay?" you blurt out being plenty motivated and thinking it's a pretty good idea. Showing, rather than telling. You bend over a little and bite off a piece of the top of the sandwich he is still holding in front of your nose anyway. "See? Like this," you say as you chew, hoping that's descriptive enough for him to understand. "You… chew it… and… swallow it behind when you're done," you try to explain further with your mouth full. Tensely, you watch Moon pull his hand back, look at the bitten part, then back at you, and no sooner as you've swallowed it down, he's holding the sandwich out to you again. His eyes shine a tiny bit brighter, making him look really gleeful. "Say, Ahhh," his voice sounds downright teasing and his mouth twists into a wide, playful grin.

You raise your eyebrows when you hear him. You didn't teach him that…. … He knows exactly what he's doing! Oh, what a trickster~! You laugh out loud and shake your head at him in disbelief. "You do realize I'm not a child you have to feed. Right?" His amused expression doesn't falter one bit. "Doesn't matter. You have to eat," he makes it sound like there's nothing more to it and that he hasn't just fooled you for his own amusement by making you think he had no idea what it meant to eat. Apparently, behind the quiet facade of your new roommate hides quite a little prankster. Which probably means that your time with him certainly won't be boring, as you happily note to yourself. "That may be true, but you could have told me something if you already knew what eating meant." "… You didn't ask. Besides, it was funnier that way~", a soft giggle reaches your ears and you roll your eyes, grinning at his comment. Well, at least he's honest enough to admit it. "Meanie," you reply without meaning it seriously, since it is way too hard to take offence at his little joke. And in fact, instead of asking him about it, you jumped to the wrong conclusions from his behavior and decided to act ahead of things. So next time you will try to play it safe first. But in any case, it also means that he already has a bit of basic knowledge. Besides, you've noticed for a while now that he understands you a lot better and knows how to express himself than he seemed to in the beginning. Which is really good! That means you can talk so much easier with each other! Maybe he can read as well? You should definitely find out! But maybe not right now. One thing at a time. "All right. I've learned my lesson. So would you be so kind and tell me if you need to eat?" you ask him, becoming a bit more serious. After all, you want to be able to take good care of him. "Eating is not necessary," he tells you as if the idea alone is very silly to him. Okay. But not necessary and not possible were still two different pairs of shoes. And the one did not automatically exclude the other. As if he had already guessed your thoughts, he keeps talking.

"We can't take it to us anyway." "Oh." Well… so much for that, then. You lightly rub the back of your neck with your hand. "I see… " That's almost a bit of a shame. It probably would have been fun to cook for two instead of just for you. But no big deal. At least you're a little smarter now! "Okay, so no edibles. But… is there anything else you need? To feel… well?" You're not sure yourself what else he might need. Water? Magic? Sunshine? Electricity? Nonsense, he is not a machine. And not Frankenstein's monster either. But does he need… some kind of energy to move? Some bizarre magic ritual? A bath in the light of the full moon or something whacky like that? Slightly braced, you hope for an answer to this question. The sly expression from earlier has disappeared from his face, suddenly looking much softer as he stares at you and assures you: "We have everything we need. No need to worry about it." You're not quite sure if that's true, but there's no reason to doubt Moon's words either. So you decide to trust him and nod slightly. "Fine, I'll take you at your word. But if there's ever anything I can help you with or so, tell me right away. No need for false modesty. Okay?", the least you can do is offer your help to him. Not that he's just holding back for some odd reason. You know how it feels when you don't say what you actually want out of consideration for others, and you'd just be happy if he'd be straightforward with you instead, if there's something you can do for him. "Agreed~." You close your eyes and breathe out slowly. Good, so that's also clarified. You've learned something new again. When you open your eyes, you find the sandwich you have bitten into right in front of your face. Again. "Now eat." He makes no move to put it in your hand, obviously wanting to continue feeding you. Also, the playful grin is back. For maybe five seconds, you consider whether it's worth the effort or your pride to get into a discussion with him that he really doesn't has to feed you to make you eat. You decide: No, it's not worth it. So you just take a good bite of the sandwich offered to you. Let him have his fun, you will certainly not let him tease you with something like this.

During your house tour, Moon followed you like a duckling wherever you led him, while he curiously looked at the individual rooms on the first floor, which included the kitchen, the living room, a small bathroom, and a guest room. You only left out the basement for obvious reasons. Since neither of you was particularly eager to go back down there. At this point, you're leaving the bathroom upstairs, which is a lot bigger than the one downstairs and also has a bathtub in it. You want to save your room for last. So you turn right and follow the hallway to the end, where there are two doors opposing each other. "And this is… this is… ", your shoulders stiffen a bit as you stare at the closed door of your parents' now unused bedroom. "Well… my parents' bedroom." Unlike the other rooms, you hesitate to open it. It still feels awkward to just walk in there, even after nearly a year. You don't usually enter it unless you air it out or do some vacuuming and dusting once a month in there. Reaching for the door handle, your hand pushes it down to open the door. You've left mostly everything as it is. Except for the bedding, which you took off at some point to wash it before putting it away in the large closet on the wall so it wouldn't collect any more dust. Unlike the other rooms, you stop at the doorstep, not entering, but give Moon a chance to go in. However, he seems to notice that this room makes you uncomfortable, because like you, he refrains from going inside and just looks at it from the hallway. "They are no longer here. They… um… never mind, it isn't that important… Anyway, it's just the two of us here. So… no need to worry, okay?" This time he doesn't have to worry about losing his heart or his newfound freedom again. Since Moon don't look like he wants to go in, you carefully close the door before turning to the other one.

Much less timidly, you open it and turn on the light as you enter. "Well, and this is their study," the room is quite large. Lots of piled up bookshelves with old looking books and file folders that line up in what feels like endless rows are in here. A large desk made out of dark wood stands near the shelves, while there is a small sitting area at the other end of the room that consists of a flat table, an armchair, and a sofa that can fit two people. Both the desk and the flat table have various writing utensils and closed folders lying around. The loose papers with handwritten notes, which used to be scattered all over the place, have been stored in empty boxes over the months and then dumped next to the armchair, because you didn't know what else to do with them. On the one hand it looks much neater and on the other hand it doesn't collect dust like that. You lean against the front edge of the heavy desk while you watch Moon walking past the rows of shelves and examining some of the books with curious interest. "They've gathered a lot of documents about all the things in the basement up here. I think it was some sort of hobby of theirs? You know, collecting antiques and whatnot and doing research on its history. They also collected all kinds of articles about some pretty wild stories and stuff like that. Some of the books are quite obscure. Folklore, tales from different regions, some pseudo-occult works that somebody came up with at some point. I've just flipped through them here and there." In the hope that it might give you a clue about their whereabouts. But it didn't lead you anywhere.

"I looked at some of the articles, too. There's… some pretty heavy stuff in there about… ", you shake your head and grimace a little. No, you decide you'd rather not tell Moon about any details of that nasty stuff. "Doesn't matter what exactly was in it. Half of it was probably just nonsense anyway," stuff that some newspapers have hyped up to make headlines or came from shady newspaper publishing companies anyway. "Let's just say… I'm not too fond of scary stories and the like," you admit with a slight sigh. One more reason why you've rarely stayed here in the study. But maybe… some of the stories and articles weren't so far-fetched when you think about who you're talking to. In a way, you are experiencing firsthand an encounter with the supernatural. Except it doesn't feel like one of those horrible horror stories at all. "Haaaaaaah," you take a deep breath to regain your composure and give Moon a small smile, who is eyeing you thoughtfully. "Anyway, they traveled around a lot because of that and for their work too." At least, that's what you've always thought… Now you're not so certain anymore, considering that your childhood experience wasn't pure imagination, and your parents clearly kept you away from Moon on purpose. For whatever reason. If you think about it, maybe their so-called hobby was more related to their week-long work trips than you always thought. Moon is silently listening to you so far. Just lets you keep talking and somehow you're quite glad he's not asking you any questions. You shove your hands into the pockets of your pants and shift your weight nervously from one foot to the other. "… but… maybe I didn't know them as well as I thought I did," you mumble, shrugging your shoulders slightly. It's not as easy for you to talk about the two as you wish. Who knows what else your parents kept hidden from you. "Anyway… you're always welcome to look around in here if you like or if you find anything in here interesting," maybe you should take a closer look at the folders yourself. Perhaps then you might be able to find out what exactly your old friend is. Well… now there's only one room left… You start smiling again, take your hands out of your pockets and hold out your hand to Moon. "Come, I want to show you my room", you are so excited to finally show it to him!

Walking hand in hand, you gently pull Moon along with you, leading him to the other end of the hallway. "Behind the door on the right is the staircase to the attic. There's just a bunch of dusty boxes with old clothes, toys and books. Oh and some furniture that's been replaced. So everything that nobody needed anymore, but was considered too good to throw away. And I guess, a dozen or more spiders are living up there. So we'd better not disturb them," you explain much more cheerfully than before, winking briefly at your friend, for which you earn an amused smile from him before turning to the other door. "And this is my room," you say, opening the door right away. Gently releasing Moon's hand, you take a step into the room and flip on the light switch. You wave cheerfully for him to come in. Moon looks at you with a visibly amused expression on his face before he accepts your invitation and follows you. Does he recognize it? The room has changed a lot since you were a child. Well, no wonder. You're not eight anymore, after all. And you definitely wouldn't fit in your old bed anymore! Your new bed, on the other hand, has plenty of room for you to spread your legs and roll around in it to your heart's content. A thin blanket for the warm summer nights and lots of soft pillows with different patterned covers are lying inside, just waiting for you to snuggle into them soon to get a good night's sleep. Except for the big, snow-white and very round bird stuffed animal that sits between the pillows on your bed and that you fell in love with when you were a kid, the rest of your toys have gone either to the attic or to the children of acquaintances of your parents over the years, where they still served a good purpose.

On the left side of the bed stands a small night table. A book is lying on it with a bookmark sticking out. Your digital alarm clock is next to it and you try to suppress a rising yawn as you read the time on the display. Normally, you'd be in bed by now. But today is anything but normal. Moon takes a good look around. He walks through your room in his somewhat cowering posture, reminding you a bit of a shy animal getting accustomed to a new environment. Everything that seems remotely interesting to him he takes in his hands to give it a closer look before putting it back at the exact spot he found it. Now he holds one of the small plastic stars in his hand, which once hung on the ceiling of your room and are now scattered on the bookshelves as decoration. The last of the luminous stars on your ceiling fell down a few years ago, which you took as an opportunity to paint the ceiling yourself a dark sea green that contrasts nicely with the rest of the light-colored walls. "They fell off the ceiling over time," you tell him, standing next to him. He turns the star back and forth between his dark blue fingertips. Looks like he likes it. Well… his clothes have a pretty straightforward theme, judging by the pattern of his cap and pants, which are covered in yellow stars. "One year, nearly every two weeks, one came off. Perfect year for watching shooting stars," looking back it was darn funny and there wasn't a morning that went by that you didn't check to see if you could find another one of the plastic stars somewhere in your bed. "One time one fell on my head in the middle of the night." Moon looks up at you. He tilts his head to the side. A smile lingers in his eyes as he listens with interest. So you just keep talking. "I didn't noticed until I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth in front of the mirror," you babble and smile a bit sheepish at him. His gaze wanders from you to the star in his hand and back again. In the next moment, he rises to his full height and gently tucks the star in his hand behind your ear. Um… what's this about? You stare at him, dumbfounded. Not moving. His face is close to yours and you notice a mischievous twinkle in his mismatched eyes. "You should have made a wish," he whispers to you and you think you hear a suppressed laugh in his voice. "Huh?", wish for something? It takes you a second before you realize he's talking about the stars. Oh jeez! Now you're back to smiling. "I don't think that counts for plastic stars." It's a cute thought, though. "Putting that aside, it would be super tough to say your wish three times as fast as they fall to the floor," you object, looking at him with amusement. Your hand carefully searches for the small star he's tucked behind your ear. "And… I wouldn't know what to wish for anyway," you confess, smiling softly, and slowly pulling the star from behind your ear before placing it back in Moon's hand. Even the heavens might not be able to make some things come true, no matter how many times you would have entrusted your wishes to it. Not that you believe much in such things as higher powers or any gods. And… it's not that you are unhappy. Everything could be much worse, you always tell yourself. You have everything you need to get along on your own. However, from now on you aren't alone anymore. The thought is still so new to you that you can hardly believe it. Moon eyes you lost in thought for a sec. The red light around his pupils flickers softly as his eyes wander back to the plastic star you gave him back. He puts it on the shelf and continues his little tour through your room.

You show Moon the rest of the room, which is quite large and spacious, just like your parents' bedroom. You really never could complain about a lack of space. There is not much left from the time when this was your childhood bedroom. Aside from a few fairy tale books, most of your children's books have been replaced by a variety of non-fiction books about plants and gardening, as that subject has taken up more and more space in your progressing life. Your favorite novels have their own little corner on the two bottom wall shelves to the left of the bed. On the upmost shelf, on the other hand, is a collection of smaller, uniquely shaped and colored nightlights. You are especially fond of the small glass dome with the wooden base on which are several pink blossoming LED tulips. Currently they are turned off, but when you turn them on they emit an incredibly pleasant light in the dark. If you feel like setting a bit of a cozy atmosphere in the evening, you turn on your little collection while you watch a movie on your laptop or listen to some music on your bed in the partial darkness.

You push the two heavy curtains aside to show Moon the hidden bay window behind them, it's the counterpart to the one in the bedroom across the hall. An upholstered bench seat with a few cushions and a bedspread are tucked inside. "During daytime, you have a really nice view over the back garden from here. I'm sure you'll love it," you love sitting here to read or just daydream a bit while staring outside. "Can't see much of it now, I'm afraid," you admit sheepishly, kneeling slightly on the bench to take a look out the window. "But when the lights are off in the room, you get a good view of the stars, if it's not cloudy," there are some benefits to living so far out of town. You climb all the way up on the bench and gesture for him to join you. If you bend your legs a little and move close enough to the window panes, there is enough room for the two of you to sit. The wood creaks a little as he joins you, but it easily holds your combined weight. Like you, he pulls his long legs as close to his body as he can and tries to make himself as small as possible. The sight automatically brings a happy smile to your face and carefully you lean a bit to the side to reach for the curtains and draw them shut so that the rest of your room is no longer visible. It's much dimmer now that the light from the ceiling lamp is no longer reaching you both with its full brightness. You lean back again, placing one of the pillows in your back to sit more comfortably, and you take on an almost conspiratorial tone as you tell him: "Now it's our little secret hideout where no one will ever find us." At least, that's what you often told yourself as a kid. "Just the two of us," he confirms cheerfully, his eyes now shining much more intensely in the dim light and reflecting in the dark window panes while casting a soft red glow on you two.

"Mhm, hey, Moon?", you almost whisper. "Yeah?" you hear him respond just as quietly. You pull your knees closer to you, resting your arms around them and your head on them. "… I'm sorry I didn't get you out of there sooner," you murmur lowly. Your heart feels heavy while you speak and you lower your gaze a little. And although he hasn't shown any signs of being angry with you about it yet, you couldn't blame him if he was. No matter how hard you try, you can't even begin to imagine how traumatic it must have been to have your heart ripped out of your chest and then destroyed. What it must feel like to spend years locked up all alone in darkness… Before you can dwell any longer on it, a hand wraps around your shoulder. You notice how Moon changes his sitting position and pulls you over to him. Before you have a chance to stop him, you find yourself sitting in his lap, forehead resting against the blue fabric of his collar. He strokes you tenderly over the head. "Not your fault," Moon whispers softly. "But… I should have… ", you attempt to speak, feeling your voice tremble as you do so. "Shh. It's all right. No need to cry. Keep the bad thoughts away." Even though he says that, you're still so terribly sorry for what happened to him. And yet here he sits, comforting you now. Shouldn't it be the other way around? "Was it painful? Were you lonely?" you ask in a quiet voice. " … ", at first he doesn't answer and you're unsure if maybe you shouldn't have brought it up. "I… don't know. Can't remember. Only blurred fragments. Flashes. Not sure why… " He lifts one hand, puts it lightly on his face as if he was touching his forehead in an attempt to remember. Meanwhile, with the other hand, he holds you a little tighter.

He… doesn't remember? Is it just the time between your reunion or… does it also include your first encounter? Your right hand wanders to his chest, where it halts over the hidden chamber. You lean a little closer against him as you listen silently. It's the only thing you can do for him right now. "Before… I woke up, everything is… like static. Vague shapes. The first clear memory is you. Your back. You felt familiar. I knew you were our friend," his hand lowers again, gently stroking your cheek and you feel his face press gently against your head in a familiar gesture. You put your arms around him, holding him close as your head spins, like a merry-go-round. Moon is suffering from amnesia. He can't seem to remember your first time together. And yet, in a way, he recognized you. Didn't forget you completely. Could it be… that it has to do with the fact that his original heart was destroyed? Is that why he has trouble remembering? You unconsciously cling to him a little more. "I… I'll take care of you from now on," you promise him. You mean it. You're no longer a helpless little kid who can only watch and cry when his friend needs help. You won't let the past repeat itself. "I know," he answers as if he never even doubted it.

By now, you feel really exhausted. Sleepy and on the brink of falling asleep. A soft yawn comes out of your mouth. Your body feels heavy and the fact that Moon has started patting your head and humming softly in your dim hideout doesn't make it any easier to find the strength to get up again. "You should sleep. It's late," you hear him whisper close to your ear. You smile a little at that. "Mhmmmm. You're probably right… but… not here," you try to shake off the tiredness and slowly sit up. "As cozy as this is… ", and dang, it really is. "… I still have to prepare a place for you to sleep first." "No need. This will do." You raise an eyebrow and look up at him, puzzled. "You sure? I mean you could have the guest room. Or I could at least get you a mattress topper and put it next to my bed if you'd rather stay in my room. I'm sure that's more comfortable for sleeping than the bench," not that you haven't managed to fall asleep here yourself, but still. "Don't need sleep." You blink at him in surprise. Oh… okay? Guess it was like the no food thing then. "Huh. Alright, I guess? Um… do you need anything else for the night then? So you don't get bored?" "I'll just watch you sleep. Scare away naughty nightmares when they sneak up on you." Looks like Moon's gone back to making silly jokes. You smile a little at this, but it's already showing how tired you are. "Not creepy at all~ But if it makes you happy, fine by me," let him watch you sleep if he wants. He allows you to climb off his lap and you slide the curtains aside to hop off the bench. "But if you do get bored at some point, you're welcome to explore the house. Just… keep your hands off any switches that aren't for turning on or off the lights or faucets for now until I have explained to you how all the stuff works tomorrow. Okay?" "Understood. We'll behave," he replies with such a sly grin that you hope he'll truly follow your request. Well, chances are he's just trying to tease you a little and will actually be good. "Great. Then… I'll just go downstairs to turn off the lights, brush my teeth and change into something comfy," you announce and search for your pajama under the blanket in your bed. Ah there it is. "Just make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back," you call out to him as you're halfway out the door.

There, you've changed. All the doors are locked, the shutters are down, and you've filled your thermos with tea when you stopped by the kitchen to turn off the lights. By now you realize how the exhaustion of the day sinks into your bones. You click the light switch and the hallway light goes off as you enter your room and freeze in the middle of the doorway, only to let out a rather loud snort shortly after. Moon sits half sunken in the large beanbag chair that stands next to the bay window. He's looking rather grumpy, and the way his long limbs stick out at odd angles beyond the ends of the beanbag doesn't look comfortable at all. You giggle softly and receive an offended look from him before he stretches his arms out to you as if asking for help. "We're sinking! It's eating us!" he says in such an exaggerated manner that it reminds you of a performance from one of those trash movies Mitch sometimes brings over to watch with you. "Coming~" you reply with a grin, but before you do you leisurely set your thermos down on the nightstand and flick on the small lamp next to it before walking around the bed towards him. "Hurry! Help us! Before we get all gobbled up!" You look at him with amusement. What an actor. He probably wouldn't have any trouble freeing himself in the first place. "It's fine. See? I'm already here," smiling, you grab his hands that are reaching out to you and pull him out of the oh-so-dangerous death trap without really having to put much effort into it. "Looks like you're still in one piece," you comment with a smile as he stands in front of you. "Just barely," Moon replies with a wide grin, and you give him a gentle smack on the chest. Which he immediately uses as an opportunity to throw himself backwards and right into the so-called death trap. He is kicking his arms as if in agony. "Oh no! You've pushed us! We're trapped again and dying!" He makes a noise as if it were his last breath and shortly thereafter remains motionless. You already have tears in your eyes from laughing. If you hadn't left your cell phone in the living room downstairs, you would have been recording a video right now. "Okay, okay. Enough dying for tonight," you grab his limply lying hand on the floor and watch as one of his eyes, which had darkened earlier, comes back to life with a red flicker and stares at you, mockingly, as you hear him chuckle softly at his own joke. A yawn is mixed in between your scattered chuckles once again, and you rub your eyes with your free hand a little. His fingers wrap around the hand that's holding him, and this time Moon is up before you could even make the attempt to pull him to his feet. "Time for bed," he murmurs and you merely nod in agreement. Sounds like a great idea to you.

You let Moon lead you to your bed while he's holding your hand. Oh, darn, you totally forgot… "I have to turn off…," the light, is what you want to say. But Moon cuts you off midsentence. "Lie down. I'll take care of it," gently he pushes you onto the mattress and you don't protest any further. You hear him scurry over to the door and in the next moment the big ceiling lamp goes dark. Tired, you crawl under the covers as you watch him come back to your bed and sit down on the floor to your left. You feel around with one hand for the switch on the bedside lamp and flip it off before rolling over to the other bedside where he is waiting. The room is completely dark now. Well… almost. Moon's red eyes glow softly in the dark. However, it's not the only thing that glows. The stars on his clothes also stick out against their dark background. He really is full of surprises, isn't he? The familiar sight of the glowing stars brings a small smile to your face. From under the covers, you reach out your hand and holding it out to him. Once again, his cool fingers wrap around yours. It is reassuring to feel his presence. To know that he is right next to you. "Good night, Moon. See you tomorrow," you mumble sleepy. A faint "Nighty-night" is all you hear before you are already fast asleep.

[aclaywrites]

How to fall in love via Deneuve Magazine Personal Ads Circa 1993

❖ Go to your mailbox and see that your latest issue of Deneuve magazine has been delivered. It’s in a plain brown envelope, but you still take it all the way inside the house before you open it.

❖ Take a moment to gaze at the cover and appreciate the fact that it’s named after Catherine Deneuve in honor of her sex scene from The Hunger which awakened us all.

❖ Flip past the first few pages of ads. Do I want to fax away for a brochure about the chance to go on a Kenyan photo safari with the world’s first out lesbian commedienne? What about the Olivia Thanksgiving cruise?

❖ Enjoy the Editor’s Column about how our new President Clinton has pledged to make real progress for the LGBT community. Bask in the warm glow of happiness knowing that the gay dark ages are finally coming to a close.

❖ Chuckle at Alison Bechdel’s ad for the Feminist Bookstore Network and wish you had one of those stores near you.

❖ Keep up with the state of the lesbian nation via the letters to the editor. Aren’t the repressive laws being passed in Oregon and Colorado shocking? Goddess bless that Kentucky baby dyke having to dodge the KKK at her high school 🙁

❖ Read the wedding announcements and get all choked up, remembering why you’re here. Resist the urge to flip to the end and see if there’s anyone new from last month. Hope springs eternal!

❖ Oh, the 20th anniversary of Naiad Press! I love their stuff! Especially how all the covers look like they’re printed with ink that was on sale. I wonder if they have any more copies of that Lesbian Queries book from 1990???

❖ Audre Lorde sure is gonna give them hell at the march on Washington, eh?

❖ So many bookstores. So many books.

❖ An article about Safe Sex! Hell yes! Even though lesbians don’t get AIDS because we’re God’s chosen people, this will be fun to read about in theory! “After all, aren’t we told that lesbians and priests are in the lowest risk category?” lol people thought priests weren’t constantly having gay sex. Simpler times.

❖ An interview with Alison Bechdel! She’s so swoony.

❖ Articles about soap operas, speculation about Hilary Clinton, gossip about Madonna and Sandra Bernhard. And what about Whoopi Goldberg? And that Ellen lady? She’s been on Arsenio Hall acting all cagy about the men in her life. A list of women we wish were gay, including Joan Jett? Didn’t she sing Crimson and Clover without changing pronouns like waaaaay back in the 80s

❖ Music reviews: Sweet Honey in the Rock and Alix Dobkin! We’re almost to the ads…

❖ Labrys jewelry, freedom rings. C’mon, let’s get to the good stuff!

❖ Here we go! Classified ads– 30 words for $20! Queer personal finance, we buy used computers, a lesbian resort in New Hampshire.

❖ Personals at last! Is my woman here?

❖ Hey there’s that woman who has an ad every month expressing her ‘complete and sincere respect for’ women in military, fire, police, private security, corrections’. A gay male ad would say ‘Uniform fetish’ but apparently we’re too delicate.

❖ Bisexual boston babe ‘femalely handsome’ looking for someone who’s ‘nice to look at, not a feminist and not a bitch’. Next!

❖ Lonesome in Wyoming, Bisexual Bodybuilder, Softball is over, time to find someone warm for winter, Reubenesque Arkansas Buddhist…

❖ Find a girl who sounds promising– seems interesting and is not too far away. Spend a day or so composing a letter with a pen and piece of paper introducing yourself. If you don’t have a photo of yourself that you like, have a friend take one. Then finish the roll of film and bring it to the Fotomat and wait a day or so and then pick up the prints and hope you like one of them. Choose one anyway, and put it in the envelope with your letter.

❖ Get a stamp, hang it on the mailbox, never hear anything ever again.

❖ One month later, go to your mailbox and see that your copy of Deneuve has arrived.

[lostloves]

*pops out of nowhere* so... hi? it's kayle. i'm not sure if anyone here remembers me. i mean, it's been what? two years? that doesn't seem like much, but a lot's changed since then. two years ago, i was planning to study art and design, but like everyone else, i got stuck in a proverbial limbo of waiting. the pandemic essentially rendered everything on hold — my graduation, my post-grad trip with friends, and eventually my long-awaited plans to move to another country for uni. that period of waiting, i spent here in the company of lovely internet friends who were so kind to me. they made my day every time i logged in (hi ami @aimlocked, lett @sunmayshine [what a cute user btw], a bunch of other people who i can't seem to find the usernames of). i also had so much fun editing gifs and graphics, even doing a little bit of theme coding every now and then (do people still do that here? is that still a thing?)

anyway, when it was clear to me that i was waiting for nothing and that none of what i had planned for so long was going to work out the way i hoped they would, i just felt so defeated that i shut down. what i thought was a two week break from social media ended up being two years. i wasn't active in anything. a few months back, i revived my goodreads to track the books i'm reading but that's about it. i just wasn't in the best headspace. eventually, going online slipped my mind. i even forgot the password at some point.

so yeah, that was two years ago. now, i'm currently in my old uni studying language, almost always buried deep in paperwork. i never would've imagined this is where i'd be, but like i said, a lot's changed. and it looks like a lot's changed with tumblr too because wow i barely recognize all these new fancy features.

i don't know if i'll post here on a regular basis. i don't edit stuff anymore. although i can try? i kinda miss editing stuff for fandoms instead of research presentations 💀 though i'm not sure if i have the time to do graphics or gifs like i used to. if i'm not reading journal articles, i'm usually writing papers about them. finals is just two weeks away too, and i'm pretty sure that's going to take up my already close-to-nonexistent vacant time. but who knows? now that i finally figured out the password, i might as well just lurk here again hahaha.

this ended up being longer (and so much more sentimental?) than i thought it would lol sorry for that. it was supposed to be just a "hi hello i'm back! if you remember me, here's what i've been up to. and if you don't, pls keep scrolling and save me from embarrassment!" post. but if you've read this far, thanks for being a cool and lovely human on the internet.

[arwainian]

My Reading this Week

This week was my last week of classes for the fall semester, so I've been busy with prepping for presentations and final exams and final papers. However! I have done some reading, through of mix of reading on sunday and easy reading like manga, short stories and fanfiction

Finished:

Blood Sisters: Vampire Stories by Women edited by Paula Guran

Father Peña's Last Dance by Hannah Strom Martin Sun Falls by Angela Slatter Magdala Amygdala by Lucy A. Snyder The Coldest Girl in Coldtown by Holly Black In the Future When All's Well by Catherynne M. Valente

I am shocked that I managed to finish this before I left for the airport, but my determination to have one less this to pack was strong. My favorite of this set of short stories was Magdala Amygdala, because it was super gross so I sent it to some friends to read too! fun fact: reading this anthology got me hyped to writing my vampire story, so I've been working on that

Started and Finished:

you there? keep me company by misspickman on ao3

(hi moss!) as i wrote in my reading journal, this is for recording READING not recording BOOKS. now, i do not know tim and kon very well, but i am here to support my mutuals' writing whenever possible

Witch Hat Atelier, Vol. 10 by Kamome Shirahama

i adore the art of this series so much, it's so cute and INTRICATE and also the plot is so stressful to ME. I am stressed. I just want these kids to be okay....

the cat who got the whipped cream by bluecloak on ao3

this is a f@tt fanfic that i managed to skip when i was digging through the archive looking for good fic a few weeks back. i came back to it bc i saw cute fanart for it and enjoyed my time! i think the fact that it was labelled a coffee shop au initially scared me off

Sharp Teeth, Sharp Eyes or: The Boy-God and the Wolf by thunder_rolled_a_six on ao3

i gotta love a good fairytale style story about gods, this was cute though I don't have much to say

beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing by Aidan James

my friend sharing this short story he read with us prompted me to say we needed a book club channel in our server. this was good, and you should read this if you like androids that fuck with gender and fuck in general

Started:

Dead Dead Girls by Nekesa Afia

this is a mystery I got recommended a while back, and my second time taking it out of the library to try reading it. i don't like how short the chapters are and this hasn't really clicked with me, but i desperately want to try continuing with it. if i don't really like it by the time i'm a quarter of the way through i'll just drop it

Article, Chapter, and Primary Source Reading for School:

"Racial Health Disparities and COVID-19--Caution and Context" by Dr. Merlin Chowkwanyun and Dr. Adolph Reed, Jr. in The New England Journal of Medicine "Inequality's Deadly Toll" by Amy Maxmen "COVID-19 Can Last for Several Months" by Ed Yong Ottonian Queenship, "Queens and Dynasties in the Ninth and Tenth Centuries" by Simon MacLean "Bolesław I and the Emergence of Poland" (1025AD) as translated by Paul W. Knoll & Frank Schaer "The Election of Hugh Capet" by Richer of Reims (987AD)

(and here's all the readings i did for my final week of classes. i did not skip a single reading, though when given a choice between two i DID pick the shorter one, may or may not go back and read the longer one when i have time but just for my own fun)

everyone please wish me luck on my finals and stuff!

[lemondropdancer]

Grounding Techniques

Mental Distraction Techniques

Pick a category of objects and try to think of as many objects as possible that fit within that category (e.g., types of dogs, cities, types of trees, crayon colors, sports)

Pick a letter and think of emotionally positive or neutral words that begin with that letter

Pick a color and look for things of that color. Notice differences in their exact shades

Say or think the alphabet backwards or alternate letters and numbers (A1, B2, C3, D4, etc)

Count backwards from 100 by 3s, 6s, or 7s or count up by prime numbers or perfect squares

Play "fizz-buzz" with yourself. Begin counting to 100 (or over!), but replace any number that contains the number 5 or is a multiple of 5 with the word "fizz" and any number that contains the number 7 or is a multiple of 7 with the word "buzz." For example, 1-15 would be "1, 2, 3, 4, fizz, 6, buzz, 8, 9, fizz, 11, 12, 13, buzz, fizz." When you mess up, compliment yourself and start over

Think of the words to your favorite song or poem or think of facts related to a specific theme

Pick a word or your name and see how many other words you can make from the letters in it

Describe an every day event or process in great detail, listing all of the steps in order and as thoroughly as possible (e.g., how to cook a meal, how to get from your house to your place of work or school, how to do your favorite dance)

Read something technical or meant for children or read words backwards to focus on the process of reading and not the words

Watch a children's television show or movie or watch cute or funny videos on Youtube; it might help to have a playlist already prepared for this

Look at a current news article that is not likely to be upsetting or distressing

Distract yourself with Tetris, Solitaire, Sudoku, word searches, or other puzzle games

Reorientation Techniques

Say or think to yourself: "My name is _________. I am safe right now. I am _____ years old. I am currently at _____________. The date is _____________. If I need help, I am with ________/can call _________. Everything is going to be alright."

List reaffirming statements ("I am fine. Everything is going to be okay. I am strong. I can handle this.")

Ask yourself where you are, what day of the week it is, what day of the month it is, what month it is, what year it is, what season it is, how old you are, and other present-focused questions

Notice things in your surroundings that indicate to you that you're safe or that you're in the present (e.g., locks on your door, electronics that didn't exist when you were younger, the presence of trusted people, a phone so that you can call for help if you need it)

Describe your surroundings in detail, including sights (objects, textures, shapes, colors), sounds, smells, and temperature

Name five things that you see, four that you feel, three that you hear, and two that you smell or taste, and then name one good thing that you like about yourself

Pick four or five brightly colored objects that are easily visible and move your focus between them. Be sure to vary the order of your gaze and concentrate briefly on each one before moving to the next

Think about a fun time that you recently had with a friend or call that friend and ask them to talk about it with you

Sensory-Based Grounding Techniques

Run cool or warm (but not too cold or hot) water over your hands or take a cool or warm bath or shower

Spritz your face (with eyes closed), neck, arms, and hands with a fine water mist

Spray yourself with your favorite perfume and focus on the scent

Feel the weight of your body in your chair or on the floor and the weight of your clothing on your skin

Touch and hold objects around you. Compare the feel, weight, temperature, textures, colors, and materials

Keep a small object with you to touch or play with when you get triggered. Good examples include a smooth stone, a fidget toy, jewelry, or a tiny plushy

Bite into a lemon, orange, or lime, suck on a sour or minty candy or an ice cube, chew cinnamon-flavored gum, or put a few drops of Tabasco sauce on your tongue. Notice the flavor, scent, and texture

Eat something or drink warm tea, coffee, or hot chocolate, and describe to yourself the taste and texture in great detail

Place a cool wash cloth on your face or hold something cold like a can of soda

Listen to soothing or familiar music. If possible, dance to it

Hum, sing, recite poetry, or make up a silly poem or story as you go

Pick up a book and read the first paragraph out loud

Hug another person (if interpersonal touch isn't a trigger). Pay attention to your own pressure and the physical sensations of doing so

Hug a tree! Register the smells of being outside, the wind, and the sights around you

Movement-Based Grounding Techniques

Breathe deeply and slowly and count your breaths

Grab tightly onto your chair or press your feet against the ground as firmly as you can

Rub your palms and clap your hands or wiggle your toes within your socks. Pay attention to the physical sensation of doing so

Stretch out your arms or legs, roll your head on your neck, or clench and unclench your fists

Stomp your feet, walk around, run, jump, ride a bike, do jumping jacks, or do yoga

While walking, notice each footstep and say to yourself "right" and "left" to correspond with the foot currently moving

Squeeze a pillow, stuffed animal, or ball

If you have a soft pet (dog or cat), brush its fur and stroke it. If you don't, brush your own hair slowly and without pulling too much

Color in an adult coloring book, finger paint, or draw anything that comes to mind without worrying about quality

Write whatever comes to mind even if it's nonsense. Try not to write about whatever is upsetting you until you're more capable of doing so without increasing the upset

Write a list of things that make you happy or look for cheerful pictures to make into a collage

Pop bubble wrap or blow and pop actual bubbles

Dig in the dirt or garden, jump on a pile of leaves, or splash around in puddles or mud

Rip up paper or stomp on aluminum cans to crush them

Imagery Techniques

Picture yourself breathing in relaxation, calm, positive feelings, or strength. Picture yourself breathing out whatever is upsetting you. It may help to pair this with imagery of breathing in soothing colors (usually blue, purple, or green) and out more intense colors (usually red or black)

If you need to relax, envision a soothing white or golden light slowly moving up your body, warming and relaxing every part of you that it touches. You can also think of it as protecting you from negativity or from harm

If the problem is intense or uncomfortable emotions, physical sensations, or memories, picture them being surrounded and neutralized by a bright and healing light, temporarily placed in a mental box to be stored for later, or dialed back by an internal controller of intensity

If you have a clear mental picture of what's upsetting you, mentally change it to something silly or harmless. If you're a fan of Harry Potter, cast a mental "riddikulus" to banish the negativity

Picture yourself calm, focused, and able to tackle whatever problems you're facing. Focus on how that would feel in the moment. What would your expression and posture be like? Make whatever changes you need to in order to make your reality reflect your goal

How to Make a Grounding Box

Get a box or basket

Personalize and decorate it with construction paper, wrapping paper, ribbon, stickers, drawings, paint, photographs, glitter, sequins, or anything else that you like

Keep within it:

A list of grounding techniques that you know work for you

A list of positive affirmations and happy memories

A list of the contact information of trusted friends or family who are willing to help and support you

Small sensory objects such as: scented candles, perfumes, or lotions; hard candies or gum; soft fabrics, a stress ball, a stuffed animal, or a fidget toy; happy pictures of you with friends; a CD with relaxing music or meditation tracks. Try to cover all of the senses

A list of possible distractions such as books to read or movies to watch

Small portable distractions such as a pack of playing cards, a small game, or a joke book

A list of comforting things to do such as taking a bubble bath, snuggling up in bed, or meditating

A small journal or notebook

In the Case of a Flashback

Tell yourself that you are having a flashback and are safe now

Remind yourself that the worst is over, and you survived it. What you're feeling now is just a reminder of that trauma and does not fit the present moment

Remind yourself of when and where you are, who you're currently with, and who you can contact if you need help (use the reorientation-focused grounding techniques)

Breathe deeply and slowly. Count your breathes and make sure that you're getting enough air

Use other mental, sensory, movement, and imagery techniques in order to distract yourself, calm yourself, and reorient yourself within the present

If possible or necessary, go somewhere where you can be alone or with a close friend, where you will feel safe, or where you feel protected or shielded

If there is anyone who you can trust or who will support you, reach out to them, let them know what happened, and let them know what you need, what would be best for you, or what they could do to help

Be gentle with yourself and take the time to really recover. If what helps you to recover is to color, take a bubble bath, hug a stuffed animal, or watch a children's movie and if it would not be disruptive to do such things at that point in time, embrace those options whole-heartedly

If possible, note or write down what triggered the flashback, what techniques you tried to use to disrupt the flashback, and what techniques helped

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt: Pro Athlete Sirius because that my and Remus' kink

~Notes: OMFG VICTOrIA!!!! I FUCKING SCREECHED!!!! lkadfjlaksdgjoiaejfalskdgjioeugisfkldshg Yes tis my kink as well!!! And then I saw this from Nonny and worlds collided and BOOM! I hope you like this my love<3<3 You incredibly talented sugarplum!!! TBH I want to write a thousand more things in this AU XD

.-

FROM THIS LIST  |  Send Me A Prompt!💜 | A REBLOG MEANS THE GALAXY!!💜

.-

When Remus was young— surrounded by the light breeze of the Welsh coast and the harmony of birds chirping in the distance— he would follow his mother to their small garden behind their cottage  at the cusp of twilight as his father cooked their supper, and he’d watch as she laid flat all sorts of newspapers written in French and Arabic and English, watch as she brought her red pen against the ink and marked the articles with underlines and shorthand he wouldn’t understand for years still.

He asked her once, when he was barely eight years old, why she bothered to keep up with so many different publications, why she read the same story penned by countless perspectives when all the facts stayed the same at the end of the day. And he remembers how she had let out a quick, shrill of a laugh, tossing back her golden head while sucking in a puff from the bubbling hookah she had set up besides her— a habit she acquired from her Algerian, refugee parents, and one that became synonymous to those late nights in Remus’s eyes.

“Facts can be wielded to someone’s personal vendettas, Remus John,” she had crooned in that adoring way of hers whenever she spoke to him— honey eyes that were the same color and shape to Remus’s own flashing alight and their matching smiles going crooked in her stunningly beautiful face. 

“Oh.” Remus had replied, still confused as all get out but was perfectly fine with just holding his small vigil, watching her beneath moonlight and the soft glow of their outdoors lamps, as he listened to the shuffling of papers while she commenced this odd quirk. 

It’s a decade and a half later—  as his editor for the Phoenix, a small, but bustling online editorial that plans on dethroning the likes of Politico and Vox in only a matter of years, scans his latest findings on the corrupt boosters linked to MP Avery from Leeds— when Remus thinks he suddenly understands what his mother, with her keen eyes and pixelated air, had meant by facts in how they can be colored differently simply by the words surrounding them. And he wonders if one day soon, one of his bylines will join her little stack of stories, if she’ll be proud of him even if she says as much even now, when he’s a lost twenty-something stumbling through life in the capitol and barely making it as is, between his actual job and the gig he has at the coffee shop nearest his dingy flat he shares with three other blokes.

“Mmm, this is good, Lupin,” Dorcas declares after what feels like an eon, dropping her long, dark legs from where they were lounging leisurely on her desk and scuffs out her cigarette in a pretty, glass ashtray. “Send it over to Flores to look into deeper, maybe it’ll corroborate the info she’s already gotten from her sources.”

Remus feels himself bristle, hopes that it doesn’t show, that his face stays passive as he contends, “I think I should at least help her write the expose, I’m the one who got this bombshell.”

“That’s not how it works, sweets,” Dorcas toots, tossing back her dark head of curls as she rises, perching on the corner of her desk delicately and looking down, straight into his gaze. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re fresh blood. barely six months here, but Alice has been with us for years. This is her baby, and we’re just here to nurture it.”

“So I’ll have to wait another ten months, at least,  to get the same treatment?” He argues in an admittedly petulant way, making Dorcas laugh endearingly, and Remus is suddenly,  searingly reminded of his age, and how he’s the youngest staffer that this London based news outlet has on hand. 

“C’mon, love, it won’t be that long for someone as sharp as you, just be patient, and don’t try to pull a Zoe Barnes on us, yeah? You’re far too pretty to clean up on the rails of  the tube.” Dorcas tousles a hand into his dark tawny curls, and Remus holds back the roll to his eyes that he feels willing up inside of him as he stands fully.

“Thanks Cas.”

She smiles beatifically, and throws him a wink. “You’re joining Emmy for the report tomorrow on those United footballers and their fundraiser for the hospital, yeah?”

“Bright and early,” Remus replies, still feels a bit miffed that he was chosen to write up the charity function, considering he doesn’t know a lick about football and doesn’t really get on with anyone who does. But Caradoc— their typical sports reporter— is out sick with the flew, so it’s on him. “I’ll have it on your desk early enough so it’ll be published by tea time.”

“Good man,” Dorcas says in thanks, picking up her crowing cellphone before waving him off.

Remus isn’t all that surprised when he strides out of the office only to find Benjy Fenwick sitting against the opposite wall, knees pressed to his chest and quickly scrambling up when he catches sight of Remus. Sometimes it’s impossible to believe that the bespectacled man in front of him is one of the top editors for the Phoenix, that he’s a regular corespondent for places like the BBC or CNN— that his rebukes against the piss poor inquiries waged during PMQs have become more anticipated than the sessions themselves. Remus tends to forget all of that when he sees him like this, messy haired and wearing a graphic T-shirt with some marvel superhero embossed on the front. “Wotcher Remus.”

“Hiya Remus says, smiling softly and rocking back on his heels. “You wanted to talk to the sergeant then?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I didn’t want to talk to Dorcas, I just— Erm, I know you were showing her that stuff you got from that intern, Pettigrew, and i know you were chafed about not getting any opportunity here so—“ He trails off, scratching the back of his head and studying a point over Remus’s shoulder, and it’s all too endearing, and Remus is so beyond thankful he’s made such a good friend here.

“No cigar,” he says in answer to the unspoken question, shrugging noncommittally even if he feels like shit over it.

Benjy nods, face contrite in a way that tells Remus he never thought it would’ve went otherwise. “I’m sorry, that’s bollocks.”

“’S whatever,” Remus shrugs off the apology, begins walking down the hall and straightening his report to hand over to Alice. 

“Ah,, erm. We can get a drink, yeah? In commiseration,” Benjy offers, and Remus stilts only for a beat before continuing the twisting trail to where Alice is set up with the more senior members on staff. And he feels only sorta bad about wanting to refuse. He knows that if he says yes, it’ll mean something different to Benjy than it does him, that he’ll probably take it as Remus finally giving into his pestering and deciding to actually go out with him, even if he’s refuted the other four times he’s asked as much. Remus’s simply just too busy trying to get a footing in this city, and trying to figure out where he’s suppose to go from here, and what he’s suppose to do. And yes, Benjy is cute— a complete Seth Cohen archetype. And he’s sweet and smart and funny enough. But Remus is really not in the mood for doing the whole flowers and wine and candle lit dinners shtick, had gotten enough of that while still with his university boyfriend. And yeah, he’s only just turned 24, but he already feels too old and too jaded for that sort of puppy love— even if Benjy’s got a good decade and some change on him.

Probably sensing his hesitation, Benjy is quick to rectify the offer. “I’ll ask Mary, and Fabian too, and a few others. We can make a night of it, just some drinks on a Friday after work.”

Stalling by the last turn to Alice’s desk, Remus looks at him from over his shoulder, and sort of hates himself for being such a soft hearted fuck sometimes. “Yeah Benj, sounds nice. Just let me know on the group chat, yeah?”

Benjy grins, much more genuine than his awkward quirk of the lips from earlier. “Yeah, good call, I’ll let the others know pronto.”

“Aces,” Remus says, tosses him a obligatory thumbs-up before finding an expectant looking Alice who’s tapping her foot impatiently.

Yeah, today is so bloody shit.

.-

Surprisingly, the round of drinks turns to another and then a third and fourth and Remus is currently nursing his fifth mango margarita on Benjy’s tab, and he actually feels lighter than he has since taking the job at Phoenix, feels bright and bubbling and like absolutely nothing could be wrong as long as he’s got this drink in his grasp and he’s sitting with the handful of reporters and photographers from the office that don’t all have sticks up their asses. It’s fun, it’s good. So obviously it couldn’t have lasted.

Mary is currently cackling about her Uber driver from last night who asked her all sorts of well meaning, but incredibly dense questions about her hijab— a freshly poured glass of coke in one hand, while the other is tangled into her girlfriend Emmy’s. And From his left Remus can hear Fabian ribbing Frank on his crush on Alice, while Benjy scoots intermittently closer as they watch Kingsley and Marlene sparring over something to do with a Kardashian or TikTok trend or whatever the fuck else— The guy has resilience, Remus has to give Benjy that.

“Right, who’s buying next?” Marlene asks, abrasive as ever while scrolling through her phone, ostensively finding something to prove her point against the managing editor.

“Reckon it’s my turn,” Benjy crows, standing up smoothly and glancing down at Remus with a nervous sort of half grin.

“Just a water for me, ta. I need to sober up,” Remus tells him, feels proud that he didn’t even slur slightly. Benjy bobs his head understandingly, and Remus turns to ask Marlene about her latest tinder hookup which always is a good laugh, but then he catches on it. On the sound of the pub’s doors flinging open, followed by a raucous crowd of athletic looking guys probably only a bit older than he is, clambering indoors. 

They’re all so very sixth-form, broad grins and slapping each other’s shoulders with jeers, topped off with loud, bark like laughter that makes it obvious to Remus that these wankers think that they’re some sort of group of gods amongst men, roaming around like everyone should fall to their feet and offer everything they have. It makes Remus roll his eyes so far back that it feels like he might’ve sprained them. They just give off this exhausting aura that reminds him of a past boyfriend in tenth year who was on the footie team and who’s favorite activity was either making Remus feel lucky enough to go out with someone so popular, or dragging him around like some sort of bloody trophy.

To put it nicely, Remus sorta hates them on sight. So when he sees one of the tossers— regrettably the brightest of the lot who’s all pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste in an objectively infuriating matter— swivels up to the barkeep and jostles Benjy on his way, well Remus doesn’t hesitate to dart forwards to tell him off.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, yeah?”

Benjy and the bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a model for Calvin briefs for when he’s not lounging in a yacht off the Tuscany coast, both turn to him at the same time. Benjy looking abashed, and the aforementioned tosser preening like the cat who’s just caught a canary.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t see you there,” he says in a delightfully deep tenner, giving Remus an appreciative once over, and Remus absolutely despises how the action makes him feel both thrilled and irritated. “Trust and believe, I wouldn’t have looked away if I saw you.”

“Not me, arse.” Remus spits back, refuses to pay any credence to how his cheeks have begun to flush. “You bumped into my mate right there, the one with the tray of loggers.”

The tosser darts his almost molten gray eyes over to Benjy for a sparing second before he laser focusses back onto Remus, the most phony expression of contrition all over his face. “Sorry to your friend,” he says the descriptor like a joke that no one else is in on. “Let me buy you a drink in sorry for the one I made slim here spill.”

Remus is officially unimpressed, hopes that his flat tone gets it across. “You’re an arse.”

“You’re mouthy,” he retorts, looks like it’s something he greatly appreciates— delights over even. 

“Ah, ’s fine Remus, really. I’ll just bring these back and get us a new glass.”

“Listen to slim, Remus, he’s got the right idea.” The tosser hurriedly interjects, strutting close enough to him that he makes it so Remus has to tip his head back just slightly so not to drop his gaze. “I’m Black, Sirius Black, just to get the pleasantries out of the way.” His leer tells Remus that the name should probably evoke some response of aw into Remus, but all it does is make him sound so egregiously pretentious that Remus wants to smack his own bloody head against a dry wall and stay in the hole until this ruddy Sirius bloke leaves him the hell alone.

“Good for you,” he says instead of all of that, and spots Sirius’s friends from behind Sirius chuckling and elbowing one another. Evidently this is a line the tosser uses frequently, and Remus is pleased that he might be one of the first who aren’t at all impressed by the grandiose way he introduced himself.

“Hah, you know I’m use to the pretty ones playing hard to get, but I’m really feeling here that you’re not exactly liking my company, love.”

Remus sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose, shouldering past Sirius and taking the tray of drinks from Benjy before storming back to their table where the others have begun openly gawping at the scene— Marlene outright squawking with Fabian just as Remus takes his seat.

“Don’t,” Remus warns them all as he silently says fuck off to the water and instead gargles down one of the loggers. And if he has to steadfastly not turn around for the rest of the night towards where he can feel Sirius’s gaze burning into his back— well then so be it.

.-

The next morning, Remus has to puke twice into the toilet, and gulps down three aspirins just to stave off his bloody hangover from the night before where he decided that getting properly sloshed would prove as a good technique to not end up making out with Sirius in some dark corner— or regrettably the backseat of his car. And if he does still remember flashes of ranting to him about how insufferable preppy, rich boys actually are while Sirius gazed at him endeared— well Remus just decides to purge it out along with the stomach acid. It’s not like he’ll ever see the douche again.

.-

He meets Arthur— one of the accountants who also helps out by taking photos for more low key news stories— outside the hospital where the conference will be taking place with the Manchester United team. There was a scrimmage that they all played with some of the kids in the cancer ward that occurred at around eight in the ruddy morning, but thankfully Remus didn’t have to show up until an hour later when the team presented their big shiny check, to the big, shiny hospital. 

However, Arthur has been here for hours, so he’s beyond chirpy and looks like he’s downed three cups of espresso as he chatters on about his son Percy starting secondary school, and his eldest, Bill, getting an award for his reading prowess, and all the strange craving his wife has been having throughout her pregnancy with the twins they’re expecting any week now. And Remus loves Arthur, he does— one of the sweetest folks he’s ever met— but God, his head is still thrumming from those misguided tequila shots and he really just wants to get his three quotes, and write up the story so he can find refuge back in his sheets.

While Arthur has moved to talking about his wife, Molly’s, plans to open up a daycare in their refurnished garage, Remus scans his eyes over the familiar face of reporters from other outlets who look just as bored as him, and then to the stage where a woman in a sharply pressed suit is ushering for the group of football stars to join her, so that the conference can finally fucking begin. 

And Remus thinks that their faces are sorta familiar, probably from all the publicity they get on the telly— but then he freezes as he stops at one of them with dark brown skin, and thick rimmed spectacles— and he suddenly can hear him chatting about his redheaded girlfriend and drunkenly declaring that she’ll be the mother of his children some day soon. So he completely expects it when his stomach drops as he moves his glance just a bit to the right, being struck by pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste, made all the more infuriating by the tight kit he’s got on and the blazing number twelve splayed against his chest.

And fuck.

Remus runs through about a dozen scenarios in which he can make a discrete, or not so discrete exit before he notices him, but in tandem to his spiraling thoughts, the wanker actually looks forwards, and like a creepy metal detector, his quick silver gaze pinpoints onto Remus.

They stare at one another for a beat before his smirk goes wolfish, and he runs a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a way that practically screams, fancy meeting you here. And holy fuck he looks so mouth watteringly attractive with that faint film of sweat running down his neck, and how his smile pulls slightly more to the left, and how he’s looking at Remus like he’s his birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.

Remus suddenly hates everything— but most of all hates Sirius, and how bloody fit he is.

“Oh, you’re a fan then?” 

Starting, Remus shifts around slightly so that he’s facing Arthur completely. “Pardon?”

“Sirius Black I mean, you’re a fan?” Arthur asks in that abrasively congenial and intensely scrutinizing way that he treats everything. “I mean he’s a great player, but I know you don’t really watch. So I bet it’s all that charity work he does, yeah?”

“Charity work?” Remus echos, feeling like a floundering fish.

“Truly some amazing stuff.” Arthur pontificates, rubbing a hand against his jaw as he tips his head back. “I mean obviously I’m partial to the fundraising for Reporters Without Borders, but of course the things he does with the more impoverished kids is great. And I know Molly likes his very outspoken posts about being anti war and his annual live streams to earn money for refugees in those war torn nations, like the last one he did for Syria?”

“Oh—“ Remus says, feeling like his head is being overrun by a fountain of new information.

“Yes well, you don’t usually see athletes get into the thick of it with political issues, but I reckon he never really minded. I mean the fact he’s the first football star from United to have come out without any fanfare really proved that. Oh, I think they’re starting, I should probably get some photos before Dorcas gives me a tongue lashing.”

And as quick as the flash of his camera’s lends, Arthur is using his considerable height to get to a more advantageous spot towards the front, and leaves Remus in the dust, as if he hasn’t just obliterated his every assumption of Sirius from after that initial meeting.

And unbidden, the words his mother had told him so many years ago, about facts and how they can color a situation just simply based off the person who’s speaking them— flood to the forefront of his mind.

“Fucking hell,” Remus mutters lowly, gets jostled by Greengrass, a hawkish reporter from a rivaling publication who always has on the most wickedly sharp acrylic nails, and perfectly quaffed curls— as she waves around her certification to speak her inquiry.

“My question is for Potter,” she announces when the woman leading the event, McGonagall, points her way. “And I was wondering how early you boys have to rise for training during the season? And how intense the sessions are that Coach Hooch puts you guys through?”

Potter, the one with the redheaded girlfriend that Remus heard so much about last night between his ranting at Sirius, parts his lips, but it’s not his voice that ends up reverberating through the outdoors space. Instead, it’s Sirius, who’s shouldering him with a goading air, obviously expecting his comment to have only ended up in Potter’s ear and not caught by the mike.

“I wonder if Lupin will let me wake up with’m so he can let me get some real training done before practices, eh?”

And just as soon as his words pitter off, the entire crowd drops to a hush— quiet enough so that they could probably hear it if a pen dropped. 

Sirius’s handsome face— strong jawline, and broad but sharp cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose— goes suddenly ashen, and he flashes over to Remus as if he’s terrified that he’ll bite his face off.

God, what an idiot.

With a long suffering sigh, Remus plucks out the microphone from a slack faced Greengrass’s hand. “We can discuss the regimen afterwards, Black. Just meet me by the front doors and let your mate answer the bloody question.”

Everyone around them falls into laughter that’s caught between uncomfortable chuckles and amazingly amused cackling, but the only person Remus is paying any mind is Sirius, and how he seems to have gone absolutely incandescent, nodding electrically before miming the zip of his lips and gesturing for Potter to carry on.

Jesus help him, Remus has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

~Buy Me A Coffee 

[biaswreckingfics]

Liminal: Part 1

Pairing: EXO x Female Reader

Genre: Witch!AU

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Some strong language

Summary: Magic. Murder. Mystery. You don't know when this became your life, but your choice in the matter is long gone. Someone is after you, someone is killing witches, and when a coven approaches you and tells you you're one of them? You're sure they're crazy. What's so magical about a girl stuck working in a greenhouse?

------------------------------------------------

Junmyeon swipes up the newspaper that Chanyeol had thrown down on the table with a sigh. Kyungsoo watches the anger take over his face as he reads the article they have all already had the displeasure of seeing.

Another senseless murder.

Another witch dead.

Everyone in the room shares the same frustration. The same anger and helplessness that is fleeting across Junmyeon's face at this very second, and they have no idea how to stop it.

This is the sixth body that has shown up in the past two months. The police think it’s a serial killer, but they have no real idea of what's happening. All they keep managing to do is get in the way of the people who actually have a chance of solving the murders - and they needed to be solved quickly before anyone else is killed.

None of the covens or elders can figure out why this is happening. What would someone gain from killing witches? Even worse, what would someone gain from killing witches that didn’t practice magic?

That is part of what shocked Kyungsoo. Not only were witches being slaughtered, but there were entire lines of witches hidden from the covens. Sure, he had heard of people going into hiding after the war centuries ago, but he hadn’t realized how many there were or that they were still in hiding after a couple hundred years.

Did those who were killed even know they were magical or was that knowledge lost to them a long time ago?

It was a surprise to the elders too. When the first few deaths occurred, none of them realized it was witches being killed off. The only reason anyone figured it out is because an Elder works on the police force. Kyungsoo didn’t know if it was his instincts or something about the way they were murdered that caused red flags to go off in the Elder’s head, but if it wasn’t for him, they still wouldn’t know. He raised concern, and others began tracing back the deceased familial lines, ultimately discovering it’s their own being murdered.

“What should we do?” Seoyeon quietly asks.

“You carry on with what you’ve been doing.” The High Priestess says as she sweeps into the room. “You keep perfecting your skills, and let the Elders keep tracing family lines.”

Jongdae watches her from across the room, already shaking his head as she speaks. “That’s not enough. We need to find these other hidden witches before whoever is killing them does.”

“How do you suppose you’re going to find someone you don’t even know exists?” She asks calmly, clasping her hands in front of her as she comes to a stop next to Junmyeon. When nobody offers her an answer, she continues. “Running around like a bunch of blind mice isn’t going to solve anything. Obviously, report it if you see any suspicious activity. Otherwise, let the Elders handle this for now.”

Her words frustrate some of the members, but they leave no room for argument. Besides, only fools would argue with their High Priestess. Though, something about her words sends a thought through Kyungsoo’s brain.

He has noticed suspicious activity lately at a place that he frequents quite often. At first, he thought it was just paranoia because of the murders, but now he thinks it’d be stupid to ignore. Especially when someone’s life could be at stake.

“The greenhouse,” his deep voice rumbles, causing everyone to look at him. “I’ve noticed odd people hanging around there, and they only started coming once the murders began. I thought it was in my head, but now I’m not so sure.”

He ignores the way his cousin’s eyebrows furrow and focuses solely on the High Priestess, who nods at his words.

“I’ll check into the employees that work there. For now, continue going there to keep an eye on things.”

------------------------------------------------

You hum to yourself as you bend down and check the sage plants for any bugs. There’s only about an hour left of work, and you figure this is the quickest way to pass the time. Plus, you didn’t mind this part of the job. It’s mindless and lets you escape into your fantasy world that is always quietly calling your name.

“Did you know that some people use sage to ward off evil?”

You jump when you first hear the deep voice next to you, but a smile quickly grows on your face. Kyungsoo. One of the greenhouse’s most consistent customers and definitely one of your more favorite customers. His monotone voice would make you think he’s bored, but you could always hear the passion in it when he talked about plants.

You straighten up to meet his stare. “Is that why I get the random terrified customer that comes in asking for it?”

The smile immediately falls from his face as he processes your words. “What?”

“I’m joking, Kyungsoo,” you tell him as you hold back a laugh. “Besides, aren’t there specialty shops for that?”

“Probably.” He shrugs his shoulders before a curious gaze takes over. “So, do you believe in things like that?”

“In evil spirits?” A small laugh escapes from you. “No, not really. Ghosts, demons, magic… I don’t believe in any of it, but if someone comes in here looking for sage to protect themselves, I’m definitely not going to stop them.”

Kyungsoo nods at your words, but you can tell his mind is elsewhere. Either lost in a world of magic and evil or just in a daze. You glance past him to make sure everything else in the greenhouse is going okay and notice another customer watching you.

Changmin. Someone who only recently started coming to the greenhouse but wasted no time in trying to get to know you.

“Do you need any help Changmin?” you ask, causing Kyungsoo to look over at him.

The two make eye contact for a moment, and you curiously take in the sight. Did they know each other? Because the vibes you’re getting aren’t exactly friendly.

“I do, actually.” Changmin finally says, ripping his gaze away from Kyungsoo to look at you.

“Okay. One second.” You tell him, focusing back on the man in front of you. “Did you need anything else, Kyungsoo?”

He eyes Changmin a little longer before turning back toward you. “I’m good. Thanks. I’ll see you around, though.”

You nod and watch him walk away before making your way over to Changmin. His brown eyes still watch Kyungsoo until he’s out of the store, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion.

“What’s up?” You ask in an attempt to get his attention.

“How long have you known him?” He asks, leveling you with a stare.

You jerk in surprise at the unexpected question. There’s no obligation to answer him, but you can’t deny you’re curious why someone you barely know would ask that.

“He’s been shopping here for a couple years. Why?”

Changmin slowly nods before looking back in the direction Kyungsoo had left in. You study his side profile, taking in the locked jaw and intense stare. They had to know each other, and not in a good way.

“Changmin?”

He studies you for a moment before saying, “I wouldn’t trust him if I were you.”

Your mouth parts slightly as you try to take in his words. Who just says something like that, and why did he think he could say it to you?

A smile grows on his lips as he takes in your expression. “Just some friendly advice.”

“…Right.” You finally find your voice, though a weird feeling fills you. Something about this entire thing feels off, and you don’t want to be dragged into it.

“Well, thanks for the help.” He winks at you and heads toward the entrance.

A minute passes before you find your bearings again. That entire encounter was awkward, and what’s more, you never even helped Changmin, so you didn’t know what exactly he was thanking you for.

Pushing the last five minutes from your mind, you pick up a nearby watering can and start giving some of the drier plants a little bit of water. You follow the same monotonous routine as you normally do and sigh. You’re so bored… and not just here but in general.

Working at the greenhouse is fun, and it’s refreshing to be surrounded by nature and warmth every single day, but it isn’t enough. You crave excitement and adventure. You want to travel the world and experience all that life has to offer, and you know you won’t find that here in the greenhouse.

You want more.

As your night wraps up, you turn off the lights and begin to head out, turning to lock up the greenhouse before you go. It’s the same routine that you always have, but something about tonight feels different. Something in the air feels different.

Brushing off the odd feeling, you throw the greenhouse keys in your bag and begin the journey home. It’s nights like these that you’re grateful you only live a couple blocks away. You get to tune into your thoughts and let your mind wander in the peace and quiet of the night, but tonight, that odd feeling remains.

You glance over your shoulder to glimpse the empty streets. Vehicles parked along the road for the night and a few trees scattered along the sidewalk greet you, but that’s all. No other human being catches your attention; however, you still can’t shake the feeling growing inside of you. The feeling that you’re being followed.

Quickening your pace, you try to remain calm and clearheaded. The odds that you’re being followed aren’t very high, but the recent string of murders in the city has you feeling on edge anyway. You debate if you should continue going home or if you should go somewhere else, but there’s no public place between the greenhouse and your apartment, so you continue on your path.

It’s probably just paranoia, especially since it’s nearly all the city can talk about. The news, the papers, social media… it’s everywhere, and that’s why you assume the odd feelings are just in your head. You’re psyching yourself out… but that still doesn’t stop you from feeling a sense of relief the second you get into your apartment.

Locking the door immediately behind you, you take a deep breath before letting out a breathy laugh at your actions. They were warranted, but you still felt a little silly. You turn on the lights and move to drop your bag on the table near the door. Before you can take any further steps into the apartment, your phone rings and you phish it out of your pocket, barely glancing at the caller ID because you already know who it is.

“Hey, mom,” you greet her.

“Did you make it home okay?” The worry is clear in her voice, so you avoid any sassy responses and move to sit on your couch.

“Yep! Safe and sound.”

You’ve grown used to the nightly phone calls you’ve been getting from your parents over the past couple of weeks. Ever since the news broke the first couple of murder stories, your parents have been worried sick about you, even more than usual. You’ve been trying to keep them calm and not become frustrated by their actions because you understand. You’re their only child, and you live alone in a dangerous city, but sometimes you really want to forget about the horrors that exist on the other side of your apartment door.

“Good! Make sure your door is locked!”

“It is mom.”

You hear her sigh on the other end of the phone. “You know we just want you safe, sweetie.”

“I know, and I love you for it.”

“Love you too, baby. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

You let out a soft laugh as you hang up the phone and drop it on the couch. Turning your head towards the window, you take in the city lights and listen to the soft sounds of the still bustling city that slip through the glass. Your mind can’t help but think about the odd feeling you had when you left work. The feeling that you were being followed. Was it paranoia as you suspected, or something more sinister?

The following days prove to be just as boring as usual, and after your spooky walk home a few days ago, you welcome it. For once in your life, you welcome the quiet, boring life you lead. The only difference you’ve noticed over the past few days is the more frequent visits of Kyungsoo and Changmin. It’s like every time you turn around, one of them is there. It’s almost eerie how they manage to do it.

Kyungsoo is a welcome distraction. He often talks about the plants you have in the greenhouse and similar ones he thinks you should talk your superiors into growing. He often makes comments about magical herbs or ones that’d be used in rituals, and you have to laugh. It’s funny to you how into magic he is, but you can tell he’s passionate about it, so you let him continue telling his stories.

Changmin, on the other hand, seems more concerned about Kyungsoo than you or the greenhouse. You often catch him watching Kyungsoo from a distance, and you know Kyungsoo can feel it because he has caught him several times himself. It’s odd how Changmin doesn’t even bother trying to hide it, and things take a really weird turn when Changmin approaches you about him directly.

‘Didn’t I warn you not to trust that guy?”

The small shovel you’re holding in your hand drops back into the pot as you stand up to greet Changmin. “Hello to you, too.”

His eyebrow quirks up as you ignore his previous sentence. “Hi. Did you not hear what I just said to you?”

“I heard you just fine. What I’m not hearing is an explanation.” He gives you a confused look, so you elaborate. “This is the second time you’ve told me not to trust Kyungsoo, but you’ve yet to give me a reason. Kyungsoo has been nothing but nice to me while you, on the other hand, keep sending him death glares across the greenhouse and telling me not to trust him.”

He studies your expression for a moment before nodding. “I just thought I’d help you out. You’re a nice girl. Maybe a little too nice. Didn’t your parents ever teach you that looks can be deceiving?”

Confusion causes your brows to furrow as you try to figure out how on earth you should even respond to that. This man that you barely knew, not only is telling you not to trust someone but is calling you naïve directly to your face. Who does stuff like this?

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs his shoulders, “maybe watch who you befriend.”

You meet his stare for a moment before saying, “Yeah… I’ll do that.”

For the rest of your shift, all you can think about is how relieved you are that Changmin is gone. The man is starting to creep you out and why he felt like he could tell you who you could and couldn’t trust really bugged you. The two of you are friendly but not friends. You barely know him, so why does he think he can come up to you and say things like that?

“Don’t forget to turn out the lights!” Your coworker reminds you as she breezes past towards the door.

“I got it, don’t worry. See you tomorrow!”

She throws you a smile as she exits the greenhouse, and you try to focus on the last-minute things you need to do, but your mind is elsewhere. Sighing, you toss your work gloves into a bin by the counter and move to grab your purse. You’ll deal with the rest tomorrow.

As you walk out of the greenhouse and turn to lock up, you get an eerie sense of déjà vu. You lift your head up and look at the area around you. The sight that greets you causes a bad feeling to work its way up your spine.

People are scattered all over the place. On the sidewalk on each side of the greenhouse and across the street. They stay half-hidden in the shadows. Not enough to show their faces, but enough that you can tell they’re there.

You take a deep breath and try to keep calm while you watch the shadows. There had to be 10 to 15 people around you, and that’s enough to set off your alarm bells because you’d usually only see maybe four people maximum when you closed.

The way they all stand still as they watch you causes your heart rate to spike. You stare at the wooden door in front of you and debate on running back into the greenhouse since the key is still in the lock, but you know that’s not going to stop them from whatever it is they plan on doing. Something tells you they’re here for you and that they won’t stop until they get what they want. You don’t know why, but your body is screaming it at you.

You needed to find a place with people, or at least, a busy street, and there wasn’t any toward your apartment, so you pull the key out of the lock and head in the opposite direction. Your steps are slow as you come close to one of the people leaning against the building next to you. The girl doesn’t move as you pass her, and though you try to find her eyes, it’s like she leans back deeper into the shadows, making it even harder to see her.

Once you pass her, you pick up your pace and almost swear when you hear footsteps behind you. You knew this was going to happen. Now, you just have to be quicker than the rest of them.

Quickening your pace to a jog, you force yourself not to look behind you. Every time the person looks behind themselves in a movie, they fall and bust their ass. That would not be you. However, something else tries to force its way inside your head…

What if these people had something to do with those murders?

You force yourself into a jog, noting the wind has noticeably picked up. Good. Maybe they’ll get tired of going against the wind to follow you. You smile at the thought until you feel the wind push against you even harder.

You stumble a little at the force of it but try to keep going. You ignore the harsh whip of it against your face, but it stings enough that you question where the heck this wind even came from. Was it even supposed to storm today? You could’ve sworn the forecast said sun all day when you woke up.

An even harder gust of wind slams against you, and you find it nearly impossible to move your body. Chancing a glance behind you, you see the people that are following you having an even tougher time. It’s like they’re somehow getting even more wind than you are.

What the hell is going on? You’ve never experienced wind like this. It’s almost… unnatural.

Lightning arcs across the sky, being immediately followed by thunder, and all you can think is “great, a freak storm, that’s exactly what you need right now”. You look up at the sky and feel your face scrunch in confusion. There aren’t any visible clouds, so you’re not entirely sure where this storm is coming from.

More bolts of lightning streak across the sky, lighting up the road around you until suddenly one of the bolts hits a streetlight behind you. The thunder that accompanies the bolt is monstrous, startling you into turning around and searching for damage.

Smoke comes off the light that had just been struck, but before you can process it, another bolt hits the light across from it, sending two of your followers stumbling. You jump back as more bolts begin hitting the road, and that’s when you realize the lightning isn’t following any basic laws of science. Tall buildings, other streetlights, plenty of metal objects surround you, and instead, the lightning hits the ground, bypassing everything. Even odder, the bolts only hit the ground around the people behind you, none of them near you.

Momentarily stunned by the odd storm, you realize this is the perfect distraction to get away. You turn back around and begin to fight against the wind to move. At first, it feels like you’re cemented to the ground, but ever so slightly, it becomes easier to move. You push harder, fearing that if it’s easier for you, it’ll be easier for your followers to move as well.

Wetness suddenly hits your face, distracting you and causing you to look back up at the sky. Rain too? Of course, it makes sense, but there weren’t even any clouds thirty seconds ago. The sky opens up moments later, dropping so much rain on you that you’re drenched instantly. It pelts against you almost painfully, like thousands of needles being jabbed in your skin, and you cry out before you can stop yourself.

Turning your head towards the buildings alongside you, you search for a place to hide out. You can’t stay in this rain any longer, and when you glance behind you, you notice most of the creepy people fleeing the storm, making your sense of urgency dwindle. What you need to do now is find shelter, then as soon as the storm lets up, you can go get help.

Taking a step towards the buildings on your side, you notice a shape approaching you and you immediately tense up. The creepy people didn’t leave like you thought. They just went around to trap you instead. You quickly back away as the figure moves closer to you and notice it’s not as hard to move as it was. The wind is starting to let up as is the rain, allowing you to see the person approaching you.

You blink a few times as you take in his sudden appearance.

“Kyungsoo?”

“Come with me,” he urgently tells you, holding his hand out for you to grab.

You look between his hand and his face as you try to push past the startling confusion you’re feeling. What the hell is he suddenly doing here, and why does he want you to go with him?

“Please! We don’t have a lot of time!”

The urgency in his voice has you looking over your shoulder. You didn’t have a lot of time? Is he talking about those people? How would he know about anything that’s going on?

“Where?” You turn back to him and shout to be heard over the rain.

“Please, just trust me!” He yells, looking behind you.

You send one more peek over your shoulder before glancing down at his hand. Changmin’s words telling you not to trust Kyungsoo work their way into your mind, but you squash them. You barely know Changmin, and a part of you feels like you can trust Kyungsoo. He, at least, feels safer than being out on these streets alone at night.

Taking a deep breath, you place your hand in his and allow him to pull you back in the direction he came from. The two of you run toward the end of the block, and then he pulls you around the corner, where you see a black car already running and waiting for you.

He opens the backdoor, and without question, you jump in. You look up as you find your seat and come face to face with another man. Your movements halt, but Kyungsoo jumps in after you, blocking your only exit. You look up to the front of the car and see two more unfamiliar men in the driver and passenger seats.

Oh. You fucked up. There’s no possible way jumping in an unfamiliar vehicle with three strangers and someone you barely know isn’t a fuck up.

“What the hell, Kyungsoo?” You turn and hiss at him.

“Calm down. Everything’s going to be okay.” He tells you as he places his hand on your arm.

You immediately move away from him, not wanting him to touch you. “Like hell it is!”

Tearing your gaze from Kyungsoo, you look at the other men in the car, and that’s when it hits you. Not a single one of them is paying any attention to you. They’re all concentrating on something behind you, outside of the vehicle. You take a moment to study them as they focus on whatever it is they’re doing.

Next to you is a thin man with brushed-back hair. You see his eyes focusing on the trees as they almost violently sway, and you assume he’s as curious about the wind as you. In the driver seat is a shorter, muscular man. He stares out at the rain like he’s almost in a daze, and an unnerving feeling begins to prod at your skin. Lastly, in the passenger seat is another man, but his face is turned away from you. All you can tell is that he’s looking up at the sky like it holds all the answers.

Slowly, you turn to face Kyungsoo, who’s looking out the back of the car in the direction you came from. He must feel your eyes on him because he quickly turns to face you. You try to find your voice to speak, but the most that comes out is a whisper.

“What the fuck is happening?”

Before he can answer you, you feel movement from your side, and you immediately snap your head in that direction. You meet the cautious stare of the man next to you, the one who was watching the trees, and blink a few times before you realize how quiet it has gotten.

Reluctantly, you pull your gaze away from the man and look out the window, noticing the storm had disappeared as quickly as it came. The night is now silent and eerie. The trees no longer sway, the rain no longer drops, and the lightning is long gone. You sit frozen as you try to figure out how any of this is logically possible until you realize that it’s not just the man next to you that is focused on you. The two men in the front are as well.

You turn to look at Kyungsoo, the only one you know. “You have about five seconds to tell me what the hell is going on.”

He searches your face a moment before nodding. “You’re in danger.”

You quickly open your mouth to argue with how absurd that sounds, but he holds his hand up to quiet you.

“Those people are after you, and they’re not going to stop until you’re dead.”

Tagging: @haveanotherkpopblog @iibonniee @making-me-blush @monbabyzshoebill @jay-scenarios @svmmi-viv @quaaacky @lunaselenamoon98 @moonlightcandy00 @kpop---scenarios @baekhyunsdangerouswoman @bellapinkrose @sanaxking

[talkfastromance4]

Flowers 4+1// ashton irwin oneshot

A/N: this is my first ever 4+1 fic so I’m kind of nervous, thank you Angie @littledrummerangie for the idea! This is also SUPER indulgent as being a birthday fic for me and a birthday fic with Ashton😅 since mine is the day before his. This has everything I love in it, flowers, hot tubs, a cabin, christmas, love… This is 4 times Ashton gives you flowers and 1 time you give him flowers

Word count: 6k

Masterlist

Enjoy!💕

*****

One

The first time they met was when Andy and Sarah invited Ashton to help her move into her new place. The movers basically set all the boxes and furniture into her house and then left her to her own devices. She called Andy and Sarah for help and if they had any reinforcements it would be greatly appreciated. 

She was trying to find wine glasses when there was a knock at the door. When she opened it she had to look up at her guest. His copper brown hair fell in waves and necklaces hung perfectly down his neck, his hazel eyes were bright and friendly.

First, she noticed how good looking he is and the second thing she noticed was the mason jar filled with orange and peach flowers. 

“Uh, hi can I help you?” she asks suddenly feeling very self-conscious of her ratty t-shirt and paint splotched shorts. 

“I’m Ashton and I’m your honorary mover,” he smiles. “Andy called me. You must be Y/N.”

“Must be. I mean--yes, I am! And oh, right, wow. Sorry, please come in and thank you for helping,” she says, moving aside to let him in.

“Yeah, of course. These are for you,” he holds out the mason jar. “A housewarming gift.”

“Thank you so much,” she smiles, taking the flowers with both hands. Their fingers brush. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“Really?” his eyes bore into hers and she’s momentarily frazzled. 

“Apart from my mom or grandpa but...um, I’ll put these in the kitchen. Andy’s in the bedroom putting the bed together if you’d like to help in there.”

She escapes into the kitchen where Sarah is wiping down the fridge. 

“Who was at the door? What pretty flowers!” 

“Your friend Ashton and he gave me these,” you touch one of the roses before burying your nose in the plumage. The petals tickle your nose and the scent is wonderful. 

“He’s sweet like that,” Sarah smiles. “Did you find the glasses?”

“No,” Y/N huffs, setting the flowers on the counter by the sink. “They’re probably in the bathroom or something.”

“We’ll find them.”

The four of them continue working on unpacking and it isn’t until about 10 o’clock when Andy and Ashton enter the living room.

“The bed, vanity, and dressers are all assembled,” Andy announces wiping at his brow. 

“We’re the poor man's Avengers,” Ashton laughs. “We put the bed in the middle of the wall and the vanity next to the window. Best lighting to do make-up.”

“That’s...perfect actually, thank you guys,” Y/N smiles, balling up the newspaper and shoving it in a large garbage bag. She just finished placing her books on the shelves, she’ll sort them later in the week. 

“We were thinking of getting pizza,” Andy says.

“Pizza sounds great! Here, I’ll give you some money--”

“No, my treat,” Ashton says, “you’ve been working hard.”

After eating pizza they all went back to unpacking and Ashton made comments about the art pieces she has. He asks where she wants each one hung up. 

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll put them up later,” she waves her hand at him. 

“It’s my job as honorary mover,” he grins. 

Midnight came upon them sooner than she would like. Andy and Sarah headed out because of Pebbles, she’s been cooped up all day so it was just Ashton and Y/N. He asked questions while unpacking to get to know her better and he was very open to her questions. 

He stayed until 3 in the morning but he made sure to get her number before he left. She took a photo of the flowers on the counter before going to bed.

Two

She changed her outfit about a dozen times. Her bed was covered in discarded clothes and she still had to put on her makeup. The clock on her wall ticked reminding her that Ashton would be here in a little less than an hour. 

It’s been six months since he helped her move in and in that time, they became close. He showed her all of the best coffee shops and bookstores he knew of. He introduced her to the rest of his band and they accepted her kindly. 

She accompanied them on outings, parties, and Ashton always made sure to stick close with her. He knew she was shy around new people so he always made sure to include her in conversation. 

One night when he was walking her back to her door after going to dinner with the band and their significant others, he was acting strange. He was unusually quiet and she’d find him staring at her across the table. 

“So, I’ll see you Monday, right?” she asked, shuffling through her purse for her house key. 

“How about Saturday?” 

“This Saturday? I thought we were going to try that new restaurant Monday with Andy and Sarah?”

“I mean, we can do that, too but I was thinking...Saturday could just be us. You and me.”

The air changed between them and she stopped looking for her keys. She turned to face him but she couldn’t quite read his expression. 

“Oh, okay. Did you want to watch that new movie on Netflix?”

“Y/N, I’m trying to ask you on a date here,” he laughed nervously rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Ask me on a...you are? Oh God, and I’m ruining it. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize--”

“You could never ruin anything,” he smiled. “But, would you like to go on a date with me this Saturday?” his hazel eyes were hopeful and Y/N couldn’t believe this was actually happening. 

“I’d love to Ash,” she smiled. 

And now here she is, half naked and indecisive on what to wear. She shouldn’t be freaking out like this, it’s Ashton. But it’s also *Ashton. Ashton who can always make her laugh and he makes her feel safe and they always have fun together. But it’s also Ashton who gives her butterflies whenever he touches her lower back and her heart race when he gives her a hug. 

Her phone buzzes and it’s Ashton letting her know he’ll be there in forty-five minutes. She lets out a loud groan and goes back to her closet, maybe a new article of clothing she’s never seen will just reappear. 

To her astonishment, there was a maroon dress that she wore to a wedding. 

“Might as well,” she sighs and puts it on. It really doesn’t look half bad as she looks at herself in the mirror. 

She rushes to put on her makeup and by the time she spritzes on her perfume, the doorbell rings. She checks that she has everything in her clutch and moves to the door. 

It’s like a deja vu moment from six months ago because he’s handsome as ever and holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His necklaces are perched perfectly in the V of his white button up shirt and it contrasts nicely with his skin. These flowers are full of pink and white flowers with a hint of peach thrown in there. The ivory paper crinkles when his fingers squeeze it, his eyes widen at the sight of her. 

“Wow, you look...wow.”

“You’re pretty wow yourself,” she giggles then glances at the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Um, yes,” he holds his hand out, the flowers bumping your chest. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she laughs, taking them from him and buries her face in the center of it. “They smell wonderful, thank you so much. I’ll just put them in water and then we can go.”

He follows her into the house, she doesn’t see him glance down at her ass in the dress. He’s rubbing his neck again when she looks at him getting a vase from the counter. She fills it with water and arranges the flowers. 

“So, where are we going?”

**

They’re sitting outside the restaurant, it’s a warm breezy summer night. The rustic atmosphere feels comfortable but when she flicks her gaze at Ashton over the drink menu, he’s drinking his glass of water heartily. His other hand is tapping against the table, it’s a thing he does when he’s nervous. 

“Thirsty, huh?” She tries to ease his unusual activity and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, throat’s a little dry,” he clears his throat just as the waitress comes by. 

She takes their drink order and Ashton requests a pitcher of water if it’s available. Their roles are reversed, she’s the one doing most of the talking and he’s the one who’s listening. She can tell he’s still being reserved so she takes out her phone and points it at him.

“Smiiile!” She sings turning on portrait mode. 

“Why?” He laughs nervously but it makes him smile so she snaps the photo. 

“Because, the lighting is perfect and you look cute,” she flirts with a smile.

Ashton laughs again but it’s his real laugh, the laugh that always gets her laughing. She snaps as many photos as she can and it seems to have done the job of making him act like himself. Even though they’ve hung out nearly everyday, the evening still had the air of a first date. 

They even tried each other’s food. She stabbed her chicken and noodle with her fork, blew on it, and fed it to him across the table. 

“Wow, that is really good,” he hums in approval. He swirls his own noodles on his fork and feeds her slowly. 

“That sauce is amazing,” she moans, loving the lemon flavor. 

They share a dessert of chocolate mousse and split the strawberry. After dinner, he took her to the art museum. They're open later in the summertime. There were only a few people meandering in the open space and standing stagnant in front of pieces. 

“This is why I wanted to bring you here,” he says, taking her hand easily in his own. 

Her butterflies returned and he lead her all the way to the back. It was a Claude Monet exhibit and she tried to look at the paintings but Ashton was on a mission to a certain piece. He stops in front of it and she stares in amazement at the painting. It’s of Claude Monet on his boat. She gasps, staring at it and Ashton is staring at her. 

It’s the painting she tried to replicate when she was younger in her art class. It’s the painting that introduced her to Monet because the style was similar and it always stuck with her. She told him she wanted to find the painting when they first met and stayed up until 3 in the morning.

“You remembered this?” she asks, stepping closer to it. She makes sure their hands are still locked together, his thumb is rubbing her skin in soothing circles. 

“Your eyes always light up when you talk about things that matter to you. They’re always so bright when you talk about him...and when I give you flowers.”

“Ashton this is…” she shakes her head at a loss for words. She gazes upon the painting, loving the visibility of the palette strokes and the blending of the colors. Tears formed in her eyes. “This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” she wipes the stray tear that slipped from her eye.

“Hey,” he says softly. His fingers graze her cheek tilting her face towards him. 

His thumb rubs at the leftover tear, his own face inching closer to hers. She closes her eyes, exhaling when his lips brush against hers. He squeezes her hand, his lips controlled and gentle yet also hesitant. As if he’s testing the waters. 

They unabashedly makeout in front of the paintings and in her mind she’s thinking of what they look like to an outsider. Still life man and woman lost in each other.

Three

The holidays arrived faster than she wanted them to. She still had a ton of shopping to do for her family but at least her flight is scheduled. Ashton is accompanying her on the trip and she’s so excited for him to meet her family. 

“Make sure you aren’t doing anything the weekend before the holiday,” he tells her unravelling lights from her box of Christmas decorations. 

“How come?” she asks searching through the tv for the claymation movies she loves to watch.

“That’s when I’m going to give you my present.”

“You need a whole weekend to do that?” she laughs. 

“I won’t say anything more than that,” he smirks at her. 

“I can help with that--”

“I got it sorted,” he waves her off, “you enjoy your movies.”

“Have I told you you’re the most amazing boyfriend?” she wraps her arms around his waist. Ashton shifts the lights into one hand so he can hold her against him with his free hand. 

“You’ve never told me that,” he grins and kisses her. 

“I’m sure I have,” she mumbles between kisses. Her hands slip under his shirt, thumbs grazing over his warm skin causing Ashton to grunt at the contact.

His hand rubs up her back and into her hair, he breaks the kiss with a shaky breath. “Let me finish putting these lights up and we can get back to this, baby.”

“We could get to this faster if you let me help,” she stresses, pinching his skin. “You never let me do anything.”

“You do plenty, baby,” he smiles, kissing her forehead. 

She sighs and retreats to the couch curling up to watch the movie and Ashton wrap and weave the lights around her tree. Two and a half movies later he was finally finished and turned the lights on. The white light reflected on her wooden floor and she beamed at his job well done.

“It’s perfect! Thank you!” she throws her arms around his neck in a big hug. 

“My pleasure,” he chuckles and kisses her temple. She starts to give small kisses to his neck, featherlight and ticklish on his skin. “Get outta here, you know I’m ticklish.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” she teases continuing her small attack of affection. 

Ashton shifts her in his arms making his way to her couch and drops onto the cushions. She situated herself so she’s straddling his waist. His hands smooth over the curve of her ass while his lips suction kisses along her jaw and to her neck. She shivers at the contact, tugging at his curls when he sucks a mark.

“This is what I’m gonna do about it,” he says gruffly and rocks her against his hips. 

“Okay,” she sighs, enjoying his mouth on her neck and the bulge in his pants rubbing against her core with each rock he makes her do. She moans when his hands move to her thighs and gives her a squeeze. 

Needing more of him, she drags his head away from her neck so she can feel his lips on her own again. She rolls her hips against his without his help and his hands slip under her shirt, moaning when he feels she’s not wearing a bra. 

“Damn, baby,” he growls cupping her breasts together. He tweaks her nipples and she squeaks in his mouth. “You like that?”

“Feels good,” she nods nipping at his lip. His phone rings and buzzes in his pocket, the vibration adds another element to her arousal.

“Leave it, they can leave a message,” he pants, sucking another kiss from her. 

His phone stops ringing only for hers to start on the coffee table behind them. She breaks the kiss and turns around trying to see the caller ID.

“Leave it,” he repeats, squeezing her breasts again.

“It could be an emergency,” she reaches for her phone to see it’s Sarah calling. “Hello?” She picks it up staring at Ashton and he smirks, lifting her shirt up. He takes her nipple between his lips and she scowls at him. “Oh, that was tonight? Um, yeah he’s with me. We’ll be right over. Okay, yeah…” she sighs when his teeth tug on her nipple. “See you soon.”

She tosses the phone to the couch and tosses her head back relishing in his mouth on her sensitive bud for a moment longer. Their physical relationship is progressing slowly, they’ve almost had sex three times (now four if Sarah hadn’t called) but she likes the pace they’re going at. 

“We need to go to Andy and Sarah’s,” she strokes his cheek curling his hair around his ear.

“Why? I’d rather stay here,” he shifts his mouth to her other breast, his tongue rolling over her nipple salaciously. 

“Mm, me too but it’s their Christmas party tonight. And we’re late by two hours,” she snickers, fingers still tangled in his hair. She has goosebumps from what his mouth is doing to her.

“I’m sick, can’t go.”

“Ashton!” she laughs pushing his head away from her chest. “We won’t see them until after the holiday. Come on, let’s go.”

She crawls off him, turns her tv off and changes her top, and puts on a bra. When she comes back Ashton is still sitting on the couch. She leans over the back of it next to his head. 

“Do I have to drag you off this couch?” she murmurs in his ear.

“I need a few moments,” he huffs, shifting his legs. 

“Oh,” she giggles, seeing exactly why because he still has a prominent bulge in his pants. “I’m sorry. Can I help?” she kisses down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. 

“You helped make this problem,” he laughs, turning his head to kiss her lips. 

**

The Christmas party was a hit and it’s the weekend before Christmas. Y/N was awakened by Ashton petting her hair and kissing her cheek, he used the spare key she gave him for emergencies.

“What a way to wake up,” she smiles, pulling him on top of her. His strong arms are caged around her head and his body weight makes her feel protected. 

“Your coffee is all ready, now you just have to pack and we’ll be on our way.”

“No breakfast in bed?” She traces his eyebrows. 

“I can make you breakfast in bed tomorrow*,” he nuzzles his nose against hers. “There’s a present by your coffee mug if that will help you get  your cute ass outta bed.”

Then his weight is off her and she’s left scrambling out of bed to follow him into the kitchen where her coffee is already in her to-go mug with a card and a bouquet of red roses and cranberries inside to make it more of a holiday special. He’s standing next to the small gifts with a grin on his face. 

“I love these, they’re so pretty,” she gushes, lifting the bouquet to her nose. She loves the sweet smell of a rose. 

“You’re so pretty when I give you flowers,” he comments, lifting up the red envelope. 

She holds the flowers against her chest and unfolds the envelope. Inside is a white card with writing formed in the shape of a Christmas tree, a star placed on top. The words read:

“TO A 

KIND

STRONG

BRILLIANT

SO BEAUTIFUL

AND TRULY AMAZING

GIRLFRIEND”

Ashton wrote his own inscription inside in his nice loopy script:

‘The past year with you has been one of the best of my life. Our friendship was the perfect foundation for a relationship and I can’t imagine what my world would be like now if you weren’t in it. So this weekend, it will just be me and you in our own little cabin, no interruptions. xx Ash’

“A cabin?”

**

After the 2 hour and 40 minute flight to Seattle, she and Ashton arrived at the cabin where a dusting of snow covered the ground and a wreath was on the door. Y/N was floored at how beautiful it was and Ashton took her hand leading her up the wooden steps. He took a key out and unlocked the door. 

It smelled like cinnamon and Ashton with cozy couches and armchairs, a large rug in front of a stone fireplace and a massive kitchen with a grill attached to a chimney. A Christmas tree was set up with presents scattered underneath and there was a large bouquet of roses on the kitchen table. 

“Ash…” she begins and then can’t find more words. 

“There’s more, c’mon,” he smiles, leading her up the winding staircase and into a loft area where a futon was and empty bookshelves. There were a few guitars on stands placed in the corner and some incense sticks. “What do you think?” He leans against the railing and Y/N ventures into the room.

“I think it’s wonderful, but there aren’t any books. Is this someone’s cabin and you’re renting it? I can chip in--”

“No, no. It is someone’s cabin...mine.”

She whips around from looking out the half circle window overlooking the backyard where she saw another grill and some chairs. 

“This place is yours?”

“Yep. I come here when I need to get away and just let my creative ideas flow. You can fill the bookshelves if you’d like.”

“Ash this is…” she shakes her head then launches herself into his arms for a hug. “This is incredible. And we’re here the whole weekend? Just us?”

“Just us, angel,” he nods, rubbing at her back. “There’s also a hot tub.”

His voice changed at the mention of the hot tub because she didn’t bring a suit. 

***

Ashton’s plan for Friday evening was to unpack and go into town for a nice meal. After dinner, they changed into their sleep clothes and snuggled on the couch with hot chocolate watching the first Home Alone movie because they’re her favorite movies. Her mind was on that hot tub and her stomach twisted with excited nerves at the thought of using it. She wanted to use it now but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth each time she tried to bring it up. 

She was also thinking of how this would be their first time sleeping together. Ashton never stayed the night because he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. She found it sweet but it also increased her infatuation for him even more.

When she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, he had her lean on him while they walked to the bedroom. The bed was huge with a large comforter and even fluffier looking pillows. It looked heavenly and she slipped inside willingly. She rolled over and became awake again at the look on Ashton’s face. 

She tossed over the blanket on his side of the bed and patted the space below the pillow inviting him in. He crawled in carefully and shut the lights off and they were in darkness. Ashton remained sitting against the headboard and Y/N reached out for him in the dark. His forearm was warm and soft.

“Are you going to sleep like that the whole night?” she whispers, giving his arm a squeeze.

“No,” he whispers back, sliding further down the bed. Her hand now rested on his chest, she could feel his heart beating. He turns on his side clutching her hand in his. “Is it weird I’m nervous? I feel like I’m fifteen.”

“You first slept with a girl at fifteen?” she laughs.

“No, I meant--being around girls at that age made me nervous,” he chuckles. 

“I’m nervous, too. But in a good way. Just warning you, I’m a kicker so I apologize in advance.”

“Why are we still whispering, we’re the only ones here,” he says, raising his voice to a normal level. That only makes her giggle more. 

“I don’t know, it fits the mood with you regressing back to fifteen years old. Our parents could walk in at any moment.” She scoots closer to him, so close that she can feel his breath fan on her face. 

“I hope they don’t,” he murmurs, inching closer in the dark until he finds her lips. It’s a tender kiss, the kind of kiss that took her breath away slowly and made her heart smile. 

She keeps him close with her hand pressed to his cheek. They kiss and talk in hushed tones until she falls asleep and Ashton tickles up her back until sleep finally finds him, too.

Saturday morning did indeed include breakfast in bed. Ashton made pancakes, bacon, coffee and a small bowl of fruit. His itinerary for the day consisted of lounging around the cabin watching holiday movies and then he was going to make her a steak dinner. She insisted on helping him in the kitchen amidst his protests.

“I’m not a good cook but I’m a very good listener. I’m your sous chef.”

“What does ‘sous chef 'even mean?” he asks getting the ingredients out of the fridge. 

“It means ‘under.’”

“Ah, so you’re under me, huh?” he winks. 

“Let me help you cook and I just might be,” she challenged with a smile. Ashton shakes his head, a slight blush rising on his cheeks. 

She followed his instructions with the garlic and mashed potatoes. The dinner was exquisite paired with a delicious white wine. They each had a full glass, their bellies full and face warm from the wine, they were extra giggly and extra flirty. 

“How about that hot tub?” he asks, circling the rim of the wine glass with his finger.

“Did you pack a suit?” She raises her eyebrows. 

 “Nope.”

“I didn’t pack a suit either,” she points to her chest.

“Must have slipped my mind,” he gulps the last swallow of his wine, eyes on her.

“What a shame.”

He sets his glass on the table and takes her hands in his, his eyes looking almost apologetic. “You can wear a t-shirt and shorts. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He kisses both of her hands. 

“Go get the water ready.”

Twenty minutes later, she walks out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and Ashton is already in the water. His arms are resting on the sides of the tub, his face even redder from the steam, his eyes hold hers steadily. 

The confidence she had in the bathroom is gone. She wanted to come out here and just get in the water completely naked, but now she’s nervous because what if she was reading the signs wrong? What if he doesn’t really want to have sex with her?

“Um, can you close your eyes while I get in?” she asks.

“‘Course,” he closes his eyes.

She takes a deep breath dropping the towel. The air kisses her skin and she climbs up the steps carefully. The water is hot as she descends into the tub, she bends down so only her head is exposed above the water. Ashton remains still and she inches closer to him until their knees touch.

“Hi there,” he smiles softly.

“Hi.”

“Can I open my eyes now?”

First she nods then realizes he can’t see her so she clears her throat. “Yes.”

He opens his eyes slowly, and they look so pretty in the nighttime sky. He’s looking at her like he’s staring into the full face of the moon, his eyes are full of wonder and adoration and her confidence starts to rise within her. 

The longer he looks at her, the more bold she becomes and she rises up from the water. Her breasts are completely exposed. Ashton licks his lips, his eyes lowering over her wet chest. She doesn’t want to break the spell that’s cast between them so she moves towards him slowly, her hands rest on his shoulders. His arms remain on the sides of the tub. 

“Ashton.”

“Yeah?” 

“Touch me.”

In a flash, his lips are on hers and she’s pressed to his chest. His large hands cover her back, one dips over her ass and she gasps when she feels his hard-on against her thigh. He lifts her effortlessly in the water so she’s straddling him. 

Instinctively, she rubs herself against him groaning at how he rubs against her most sensitive area perfectly. 

“Need you,” she whispers against his mouth.

“Bed,” he gasps.

They exit the tub excitedly, drying off as quickly as they can and she presses herself against him in front of the bed. Their bodies are warm from the tub and he lifts her in his arms again. She loves feeling his muscles wrapped taut around her, he knees onto the bed and stays there. Their arms are wrapped around each other and they remain kissing.

“Do you have something?” she asks, pulling away to catch her breath. She twists his chest hair in her fingers.

“Um, yeah. Shit, hang on,” he sighs, slipping her back onto the bed. She watches him appreciatively as he skimpers to the kitchen pulling his coat off the hook.

“You have a really nice butt,” she compliments when he returns with a condom in hand. 

“Thanks, babe,” he laughs then stops at the foot of the bed staring at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks suddenly self-conscious. 

“Nothing. You’re perfect.”

She smiles and pulls him on the bed with her again, connecting their lips. He rips open the condom and rolls it on his length. He kneels on the bed again and she’s quick to climb on top, moaning at his shaft rubbing between her folds. 

“Such a pretty moan,” he praises, grasping his cock in his hand. He teases her hole with his tip, nudging it inside a few times. Her lower body meets his in a desperate way, small gasps coming from her each inch he goes in deeper.

“Please, Ash...want all of you,” she knocks her forehead against his.

He takes a deep breath and pushes all the way in, his eyes watching her as her mouth opens and her eyes close at being filled. Their bodies tremble together and they remain still, experiencing being connected for the first time. 

“Good?” he asks, rubbing her nose affectionately.

“Mhm,” she nods and starts to roll her hips against him. “Ohhh…” she lets out a shuddering breath.

He follows her rhythm easily, arms wrapped around her, enjoying the way she rides on top of him. He kneads her ass as she moves, her breath picking up and when he can’t take it anymore, he rises on his knees, her legs fall on either side of him and she gasps. 

He rests her on her back gently, resting his chest against hers so that they’re still touching and rocks his hips in even thrusts. He slips his tongue in her mouth just as her legs wrap around his waist. She moans when he picks up the pace, her lower half meeting his thrusts perfectly. 

“Are you close baby?” he pants feeling her walls start to flutter around him. “So good for me...so perfect...taking me so well.”

“Don’t stop,” she moans tilting her head back. Ashton pounds into her faster, each time he thrusts in she clenches around him a bit more tightly. 

“Fuck…” he hisses when she clenches and stays that way. Her moans are loud in his ear and he always wants to be the one that makes her sound like that. He can’t hold his climax off with her sounding like that and he’s coming with her. “I love you,” he groans loudly in her neck.

When they recollect their breathing she holds his face in her hands.

“What did you say?” she gasps out, eyes wide with lust and surprise.

“I love you,” he breathes, stroking her temple with his thumb. “You don’t have to say it back, but I wanted to tell you that this weekend, too. It’s hard for me to say out loud and with just us--”

She kisses him fiercely. 

“I love you, too.”

Four

When she went to work there was a flower arrangement at her desk with a note from Ashton wishing her a great last day before her vacation for her birthday and his birthday. Hers was the day before his and everyone wanted them to do a joint party when they found that out. 

“No, that’s weird,” she scrunched her nose at the suggestion.

“Yeah, we aren’t siblings. That’s gross,” he agreed.

She took the week off for their birthdays so they could maybe go to the cabin or even rent a house on the beach. She loved her birthday but whenever she made plans, they always fell through or people never showed up.

She texted him that the flowers were beautiful and she couldn’t wait to spend the day with him the next day. When she got home, he was already there wearing an all black outfit with his shirt open. He knows how much she likes seeing his chest. 

“Thank you for the flowers,” she holds up the vase of pink peonies showcasing them. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Kiss me first,” he puckers his lips at her.

“Oops, sorry,” she giggles and steps on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. They always kiss each other hello. 

“Now, go get changed. We’ve got plans,” he grins.

“What kind of plans?” 

“Look on your bed and see,” he nods to her room down the hall. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.”

She shakes her head and does what he says. On her bed is a dress she always ogled when they were at the mall, Ashton clearly bought it for her. He spoils her too much. Next to the dress is a black satin blindfold. She narrows her eyes at the blindfold but quickly changes into the dress.

“What is this for?” she asks, stepping out into the living room with the blindfold in her hands.

“For your eyes. Turn around.”

“Are we roleplaying?” she asks, turning her back to him.

“No,” he laughs, placing the fabric over her eyes. 

He helps her walk to his car and she’s asking him so many questions. He refuses to answer them and laughs at her outlandish predictions of taking her away to a private island. 

His hand is firm in hers when they’re walking to wherever they’re going. She stumbles a little because she doesn’t know the terrain but it feels like pavement under her feet. 

“Are we there yet?” she asks.

“Almost. Okay, there’s a few steps. Up, up, up, up, and last one. Good. Okay, I’m going to take it off you now.”

She feels him move behind her. He unties the blindfold slowly and it drops from her eyes. She blinks slowly to get used to the light and is met with all of their friends and family before her. There’s flower arches behind them and they’re all wearing flower crowns on their heads. 

“SURPRISE!” They shout and she gasps when they start to sing Happy Birthday.

Sarah wheels in a cake with flowers sprawled over it and her name in the middle. Y/N grasps Ashton’s hand in her own, tears forming in her eyes. His other arm wraps around her waist, his chin rests on her shoulder as he sings softly in her ear.

“...dear Y/N...Happy Birthday to you…”

She wipes at her eyes overcome with emotion from the surprise and that Ashton went through all this trouble.

“Make a wish, angel,” he murmurs in her ear.

She closes her eyes, thinks of a wish, and blows out the candles. Everyone cheers and she twists around to give Ashton a big kiss. There’s even more cheers for that and then she’s whisked away for hellos and hugs. Flowers are hanging from the ceiling like vines and she’s never been surrounded by so many flowers. 

“Were you surprised?” Sarah asks as a waiter starts to cut the cake.

“Totally surprised. But my birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she gives Ashton a side eye.

“You told me you wanted to spend it with me, so your party with everyone else is today,” he smiles. 

“And all these flowers? I love it all so much, thank you.”

“Your eyes will have that shine all night,” he grins, kissing her nose. 

One

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Ashton laughs behind her as they trek through the woods by the cabin.

After her surprise party, on her actual birthday they spent the first half watching movies and the second swimming at the beach. They had a late flight to go to the cabin. Upon arrival, Ashton spent the last hour of her birthday pleasuring her with his mouth and fingers. When the clock struck midnight, she flipped him over with a smirk.

“Happy Birthday to you,” she whispered and slid down his body so she could please him. 

She loves hearing his moans just as much as he loves hearing hers. She loves how one hand is fisted in her hair and the other rests behind his head watching her go down on him. 

“Yes, I know where I’m going. Come on birthday boy.” She ducks under a branch then sees the clearing ahead. 

“I’m twenty-seven, I’m not a boy,” he grunts.

“Sorry, old man,” she teases and he smacks her ass playfully. 

When they come into the clearing, there’s a red and white checkered blanket in the grass with a large basket in the center. Wildflowers surround it in purples, yellows, oranges and a few reds. It’s a magical place. 

“Did you do all this?” he asks seeing the set up. 

“I did. Come on, there’s more.”

They kick off their shoes and sit on the blanket. She opens the basket taking out his favorite foods and a wrapped gift. 

“I told you, you don’t have to get me anything,” he sighs while taking the gift. “You’re more than enough.”

“I know, but it’s part of my love language. And it’s homemade anyway,” she shrugs. “Open it up.”

He unwraps the corners before tearing the paper all the way off. He stares at it in his hands for a long time. She made him a shadow box frame with a picture of them when they were at the beach during sunset. It was their favorite picture and surrounding it were dried flowers. 

“Do you know what these are?” she asks, pointing to the flowers.

“Flowers?” he chuckles touching the glass. 

“This one is from the first flowers you brought me when you helped me move in, these are from our first date, this is from Christmas and the small cranberry. These are from work and my birthday, and these are from Valentine’s Day. These are all the flowers you’ve given me,” she smiles and he looks at her stunned.

“You kept them all?”

“You’re the only one who ever bought me flowers and I loved them all so now you have them, too.”

“This is incredible, I love it. Thank you,” he reaches over to give her a kiss. 

“Wait, there’s more,” she grins and reaches into the basket again. She pulls out live flowers arranged in a pretty bouquet. “These are for you.”

“Baby,” he stressed in astonishment and set the picture frame next to him. 

He pushes her back on the blanket kissing her with all he’s got. The flowers get crushed and some stick in her hair but they’re surrounded by love and the sweet smell of flowers and kiss with passion.

“Happy Birthday my love,” she gazes up at him and sticks a flower behind his ear.

Taglist: @calumance​  @in-superbloom​ @calpalirwin​ @karajaynetoday​ @wiiildflowerrr-blog1​ @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @hoodhoran​ @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @sunshineeashton​ @ashtonsunflower​​ @mymindwide​​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @seanna313​ @fivesecondsofonedirection​

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 22: Petrichor and Bibliosmia (Library/books)

AO3

Prev

Marinette frowned at the rain outside of her window. She had wanted to go to the botanical gardens with Harley and Ivy today. But with the rain, both women decided it would be better to just reschedule. They didn’t want her to get sick. Which, to be fair, was sweet. But still upsetting because she really wanted to go to the gardens. She’d planned on using the plants as inspiration to make something for Ivy.

“Tikki, I’m bored.” She says, looking at her smallest friend. Tikki just looks at her.

“You’ve been stuck inside because of the weather before, Marinette. Why don’t you design?” Tikki suggests. Marinette huffs, flopping back down onto the cushioned window seat.

“But there’s nothing inspiring in my room, Tikki.” She mumbles, before shooting back up. “Do you think any of the boys are here?” She asks.

“Only one way to find out!” Tikki says with a smile, obviously relieved to have avoided any more whining from Marinette. She jumps up, throwing one of Dick’s old hoodies on over her t-shirt. She’d always gotten cold easily, and becoming the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous didn’t help. That, and the manor was cold on a good day- it would probably be freezing with how bad the weather was. She slides down the banister, knowing her Dad was at work and couldn’t yell at her.

“Miss Marinette, if you insist on behaving like your brothers, I will have to resort to treating you like your brothers.” Alfred says with raised eyebrows. But she can sense the smile wanting to break through. She just grins apologetically.

“Sorry, Alfred.” She says. “Speaking of my brothers, are any of them here right now?” She asks. If they’re not, she could probably convince Alfred to bake something with her. As long as she promises not to slide down the banister again.

“I believe Master Jason is in the library. Masters Dick and Damian are in the gym and Master Tim is at Wayne Enterprises with your father.” He says and she hums, thinking. She could go do some training with Dick and Damian, or she could go sit and sketch in the library with Jason.

“Thanks Alfred!” She says, giving him a wide smile before turning and walking down one of the many halls. She glances in open doors as she walks. Despite having lived here for nearly a month, she still got lost going anywhere other than her room, the dining room, the kitchen, and the Batcave. They were kind of the places she’d gone the most. She could also easily find her dad’s study and the main sitting room, most of the time. But the library wasn’t really a place she’d spent a lot of time in. And while she loved Dick and Damian, she also knew that they hadn’t gotten time to hang out just the two of them in a while. She’d talked to Dick before, about how when their dad was missing, he was basically Damian’s father. She knew that bonds like that didn’t just go away, knew that neither boy wanted it to. So she figured she’d just annoy Jay instead of barging in on the others’ bonding time.

Finally finding the library, she grins. Pushing the cracked door open a little more, she moves into the room, jaw dropping. The floor to ceiling bookshelves were packed. There were huge overstuffed couches, and the large windows had window seats attached- perfect little reading nooks. Quickly making a mental note to come to the library more, she starts to search for Jay. She knew he had to be in here. Alfred is never wrong. She grins when she spots him, sitting in what looked like an insanely uncomfortable position, but one she knew from experience was the best.

“Whatchya reading?” She asks, walking over and getting comfortable on the couch next to him.

“<i>Pride and Prejudice<i>.” He says, continuing reading for a moment before putting a little scrap of paper in the book and shutting it. “What���s up, Pixie Pop?” He asks, looking at her with a grin. Marinette sighs dramatically and moves so that she’s upside down on the couch.

“It’s raining. And I was supposed to go to the gardens with Ivy and Harley but they canceled because of my ‘health’ and they were ‘concerned’.” She says with a pout.

“And you decided the library was the best place to curb your boredom? No offense kid, but you don’t seem like the type to read.” He says and she huffs.

“I like books! It’s just-” She pauses, remembering the way Lila had teased her for it back in Paris. Her classmates hadn’t joined in, not really. They’d just agreed that she was a little odd.

“You okay, Pix?” Jason asks, his earlier grin replaced with a slightly concerned look. Marinette winces and nods.

“Yeah it’s- I can read. I swear I can. But when I’m looking at a book, or an article or anything with a lot of text, it gets hard to pick out the pieces. Things just kind of swirl together and then I can’t decode it and I get frustrated and just stop reading. It sucks, ‘cause I do like books. I listen to audiobooks while doing commissions.” She rambles, stopping and turning red. Though that may be from hanging upside down on the couch. Sighing, she sits up and shrugs. “Sorry I’m so weird.” She says. Jason’s face morphs into a scowl.

“Just ‘cause you learn differently doesn’t mean you’re weird, kid. Just means you’ve got your own style. Don’t let any of those little shits you go to school with tell you differently.” He says, reaching out and ruffling her hair. She smiles at him, a genuine happy smile. She was so relieved that he didn’t think she was weird. Or stupid. Lila had thrown that word around. That one hurt. Marinette prided herself on her quick thinking and cleverness. And her grades. They were some of the best in the class! So for Lila to call her stupid…

“Pixie.” Jason says, drawing the nickname out in a sing-song voice. She looks at him and raises an eyebrow. “You were zoned out, kid. So, was there something ya wanna do?” He asks. Marinette glances down at the book in his hand and frowns.

“I don’t wanna keep you from reading. I can just sit in here with you. I’ll probably end up grabbing my sketchbook.” She says. Jason waves in a ‘no big deal’ motion.

“I’ve read this book a million times.” He reassures her. She glances at the cover again, realizing it’s not one she’s really heard much about before.

“What’s it about?” She asks. “I’ve never read it.” Jay’s face morphs into a huge grin.

“You said you like listening to books, right?” He asks. She nods. “Well, then settle in because I’m going to read to you.” He says proudly with a grin.

“Oh, you really don’t-” She tries to say. She didn’t want to make him read to her. That was not-

“Oh but I want to.” He says, effectively cutting off her mental ramble before she can complete her meltdown. “Listen Pix, this is one of my favorite books. If you go listen to some dumb audio book, you won’t get my commentary. Trust me, this is the best way for you to read the book.” He says and she snorts, shaking her head lightly.

“Okay, Jay, let’s read a book.”

---

Finally arriving home after being stuck at the office, Bruce sets off to find his daughter. Since his apology a few days ago, he’d attempted to make an effort to check in on her and see how she was doing. He tried to also do the same with the boys, but they had all given him odd looks, so he didn’t continue. He checks her room, the Batcave, the sitting room- nothing. He finally decides to check the kitchen. If he had to guess, she’d be there baking with Alfred. He walks in and sees Alfred, but no Marinette.

“Good evening, Alfred. Have you seen Marinette?” Bruce asks, silently hoping she hadn’t left the planet again.

“I believe she’s in the library with Master Jason.” Alfred says and Bruce blinks in surprise. He’d never seen her read a book before, while Jason always had a book on him. He supposed it could be a hobby of hers that he just hasn’t noticed. Or, she could have just followed Jason. Which seems more likely. The two of them were all but attached at the hip ever since the Gala. It was surprising, but at the same time welcoming. Thanking Alfred quickly, he walks towards the library. He’d just say hi and leave. No need to make them stop reading if they were having fun. Gently pushing open the library door he walks in and pauses at the sight. Marinette had wrapped herself in a blanket and was almost sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward with an intense look of concentration on her face. Jason had his legs swung over the arm of the couch and was reading out loud. Immediately recognizing the book as Jason’s favorite, Bruce slowly leaves the library, careful not to let the door slam. He’d have the chance to talk to Marinette later, but for now, he’d let the two continue reading in peace.

Next

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[berriusagi]

Stomach Bug Ch10

Doctor’s Visit

Alright I am back with another chapter and with this I bring something special. I want all of you to help me decide what our lovely Mari will be having so place your votes in the poll. 

LINK REMOVED

Thank you to everyone who voted I’ll be using the results gathered and I hope everyone’s happy with what the final tally was.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

“Damian’s not home right?” Tim asked, making his way into the Batcave where all the other bats sans Damian were sitting around the computer.

“No, tomorrow’s pixies first appointment with that new doctor so he decided to stay the night to give her moral support since she’s never been to a gyno before.” Jason said looking up from the files he was reading over, “honestly from what I’ve heard about what happens during those exams I don’t blame her for wanting a little support before going.”

“It’s all routine and can’t be any worse than the baby-making process.” Dick hummed typing away on the computer.

“I think that’s enough talk about that; why did you want to know Tim?” Bruce asked looking over at his second youngest.

“I found more info on Marinette thought I’d share with you all while Damian wasn’t here to stop me or compromise the data,” he explained walking over to the bat computer connecting his laptop to it.

The other men all sat silently around waiting for Tim to begin his presentation as he sorted through different encrypted files before bringing up a few pictures. “To begin her original name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her parents were bakers back in France, Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng,” Tim said pointing them out.

“Marinette told me they essentially kicked her out,” Bruce said crossing his arms, “They believed the words of some liar and threw her out. She lived with a friend her last year in Paris before moving here.”

“Wait, hold on,” Dick said turning to Bruce, “Her parents kicked her out when she was still a minor? Isn’t that illegal?”

“Yes, and they knew that, she mentioned that when she told her grandmother she came and took custody from her parents, who seemed more than happy to hand it over, and let her stay to finish out that school year with a friend then moved here to finish out her schooling.” Bruce nodded.

“Yeah that all tracks to what I found,” Tim nodded, showing them documents next, “I have here the transfer of custody, her transcript for moving here, as well as the adoption papers for Ivy and Harley. I also went ahead and started running some background checks on the people still in her phone.” he added typing away.

“Anyone, we should be worried about?” Jason asked leaning back in his seat content to just watching Tim work, “She told me a bit about one of her friends’ guy seemed a bit sketch when he was a Paris hero though now I think he’s meh but never got a name from her.”

“You said he was one of the heroes?” Tim asked looking over at Jason.

“Yeah, she said he gave up his miraculous after the fight because his dad was the villain and he didn’t think Ladybug would want anything to do with him if she found out who he was so he bit the bullet and gave it up. He left Paris shortly after to live with his aunt.” Jason said looking around at the others.

“If the villain were outed then it’d be easy to find out who his son was,” Tim said, turning back to the computer the clicking of keys filling the Batcave as he searched through multiple French websites. The other three just watched as screen after screen flew by before settling on a trashy tabloid-like website.

“I don’t think this is what could be considered a credible source Timmy,” Dick winced looking over all the clickbait titles and the like to dislike ratio on the articles.

“No, but it does have quite a bit on the Paris heroes,” Tim said scrolling through to articles that had more likes and seemed of better quality, “here we go, Hawkmoth Defeated: How a Recluse Held Paris Hostage.”

The four men all leaned forward reading through the article that detailed the final battle between Hawkmoth and the Paris Heroes with a written description of what happened as well as a video that seemed to have been taken from a mix of sources and spliced together. The article detailed what Hawkmoth had been doing for three years and in the end, revealed him and his accomplice to be Gabriel Agrest and his assistant Nathalie Sancoeur.

“So we know that Gabriel Agrest was the big bad so who was his kid?” Jason asked as Tim typed away.

“Adrien Agrest, teen model for the Agrest Fashion Label. Looks like after his dad got taken down he had to go through months of interrogations and court hearings just to prove his innocence. His mother was found dead in the Agrest Mansion and with no one else it looks like his aunt took him in once he was cleared.” Tim said reading through the files he dug up.

“That would mean he probably gave his miraculous to Pixie right after he was cleared. If he was going to do something sketch he’d just hold onto it.” Jason said.

“He probably was so messed up after the battle he didn’t want any connection to the miraculous I mean his father turned evil because of them.” Dick hummed crossing his arms.

The four fell silent as they took in the information they had received, “Well Tim you got anything on that liar?” Jason asked, tilting his head.

“This whole blog is about that liar.” Tim said motioning to the tabloid, “I’ll email you guys the link and read it at your own pace there is years of garbage on here.”

“Then with that, I think we should all be heading out. We'll go over more of what Tim found later for now we should get to work,” Bruce said, getting to his feet and moving to change into his costume.

The other three nodded as Tim packed up his laptop and stored it away before they all got dressed and took their way out of the cave to begin their nightly rounds.

~.~.~.~

“So what do you think they found?” Marinette asked cuddled up to Damian's side on her bed with the hyenas crowded around them on either side resting their heads over their laps, “Chloe didn’t exactly hold back on mentioning certain names.”

“I would be surprised if Drake didn’t have an entire dossier on all your friends.” Damian said rubbing Marinette’s back, “You know he probably took all your contact info right?”

“Yeah oh well,” she shrugged turning to bury her face into his neck, “They were bound to find out eventually, might as well let some of the greatest detectives around have some fun piecing my life together.”

Damian hummed closing his eyes as he relaxed back into the plush pillows covering Marinette’s bed, “Are you nervous about tomorrow?” he asked.

“A little,” she sighed tightening her grip on his shirt, “Mum told me what to expect and said she’d sit in the room with me if I wanted her to, you can’t exactly join me since we can’t have this whole thing getting out.”

“I’ll be waiting here for you when you get home don’t worry,” he said kissing her forehead, “now try to get some sleep you barely got any at the manor.”

Marinette nodded letting out a deep sigh as she shifted around to get comfortable between Damian and the hyenas. Eventually, she settled down and dozed off into a dreamless sleep with Damian rubbing her back and the familiar weight of Bud’s head on her hip.

Damian stayed up for a bit longer listening to the quiet sounds around and thinking over what to do for the next day. He eventually made his way into a dreamless sleep as well a bit after one AM when he finally managed to shut his mind off.

~.~.~.~

“Marigold are you ready?” Ivy called from the kitchen as she looked through her back to make sure she had everything.

“Almost,” Marinette said, coming out in a comfortable knit sweater and skinny jeans, “I was looking for my purse. I think Lou took it,” she said, looking around in the usual spots for her bag.

“I’ll keep your wallet and Tiki in my bag we have to get going,” Ivy said, grabbing Marinette’s wallet off the counter and stowing it in her bag as Tiki flew over and settled into the bag as well giving Ivy a nod to close the bag once she was comfortable.

Marinette nodded and went back to her room grabbing her phone quickly checking it before putting it away in her pocket and leaned down kissing Damian’s cheek as he groaned slowly blinking his eyes open. “I’m leaving I’ll text you when we’re on our way back.”

“Okay habibti call me if you need me.” he yawned reaching up and pulled her down for a kiss, “good luck with your appointment I’ll see you after.”

Marinette nodded kissing him again as Ivy shouted for Marinette that they were leaving. She gave Damian another quick peck on the lips before pulling back and ran out to meet Ivy at the door. “Had to get my phone.” she smiled stepping out of the apartment and waited as Ivy locked up and ushered down to the cab waiting outside.

“Now remember Marigold just relax and everything will go smoothly, it will be uncomfortable but it won’t hurt okay.” Ivy said, settling into the cab beside Marinette and rubbing her back, “I can sit inside the room with you if need me to.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Marinette said, taking a few calming breaths as they made their way to the doctor’s office. Once they arrived Marinette was starting to look a little green as they went through the check-in process and filled out their info.

Waiting for her name to be called felt like an eternity and her stomach was twisting into knots as she watched other women come and go through the office. Marinette sat there twisting her fingers in her sweater and took slow deep breaths trying to calm herself when the door opened, “Marinette?” a nurse called.

Marinette shot up her face going from pale to a deep red as she made her way to the nurse. The nurse smiled and ushered her inside and went about getting her blood pressure, “Hmm little elevated but I think it could just be your nerves.” the nurse smiled, and her height and weight.

“Alright girly so here’s your room I’m going to need you to completely strip down underwear and all then put this paper gown on opening to the front and here’s a privacy blanket for your legs.” the nurse said motioning to the items on the bed, “the doctor will be in here shortly.”

Marinette nodded as the nurse closed the door leaving her alone, “It’s just a check-up.” Marinette mumbled undressing and taking her time to carefully fold her clothes and set them on the table in the corner of the room. She put on the provided gown and settled on the table keeping her phone clenched tightly in her hand as she waited for the doctor to arrive.

It felt like an eternity when there was a knock at the door and the doctor stepped in, a petite redhead with a smattering of freckles covering her pale face, “Hello Miss Marinette I’m Doctor Amelia.” she smiled coming over to shake Marinette’s hand, “I see you’re here for a wellness exam and you’re expecting.”

“Uh yes,” Marinette coughed her voice, cracking a bit from her nerves, “I uh just found out a few weeks ago.” she blushed, gripping the paper blanket covering her legs.

Doctor Amelia nodded looking over the file, “This is your first-ever wellness exam yes?” she asked, taking a seat.

Marinette nodded keeping her head bowed trying to not let her nerves take over her.

“Okay sweetie we’ll go at your pace so just relax okay.” Doctor Amelia smiled setting the file aside and grabbed her stethoscope.

~.~.~.~

The entire exam didn’t take more than five minutes before the doctor was cleaning up and stepping out to give Marinette some privacy to redress. Marinette wasted no time pulling her clothes back on and sending Damian a text saying, ‘Making this baby was less violating than that.’ before putting her phone in her pocket as there was another knock, “Miss Marinette if you're ready you can go to the front and schedule the next appointment.” Doctor Amelia said through the door.

Marinette walked over opening the door her face still a bit flushed, “Okay uh when should I come back next?” she asked.

“I think in a month should be enough time and we should be able to hear the heartbeat by then.” she smiled, “Your moms waiting for you upfront, and here’s the card to one of my nurses if you have any questions feel free to call her okay.”

“Thank you.” Marinette nodded, taking the card and quickly went to the front to meet back up with Ivy and schedule the next appointment and made their way out to walk back home.

“I think we should pick up some breakfast.” Ivy smiled putting a hand on Marinette’s shoulder as they walked. “There’s a nice little bakery around the corner should we pick up something from there?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Marinette nodded following Ivy down to the bakery and got in line looking over the different pastries they had for sale. Between the two of them, they picked out an array of sweet and savory options with Marinette making sure to pick out some vegetarian options for Damian. Soon they were walking out with two large bags and were walking down the street back to their home.

Upon entering both had to hold their bags of treats high out the reach of Bud and Lou trying hard to reach the goodies hidden away. Harley quickly came over pulling them back by their collars so the two could set the bags down in the kitchen.

Damian was settled at the table and got up coming over to help them unpack as Harley got some coffee and tea going as they all settled down to enjoy a bit of a late breakfast. Marinette ate her croissants and fruit danish taking small bites so as not to upset her stomach any further. The small group spoke of anything and everything as they enjoyed their meal. Harley taking the time to pick out the meat from her sandwich to give to the two hyenas and Damian holding a small conversation with Tiki as she munched on the cookies Marinette picked out.

“So when are you going back?” Harley asked looking over at Marinette as she bit into her bagel.

“In a month, the doctor said we should be able to hear the heartbeat by then,” Marinette said, finishing off her danish, “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“You’ll be fine Marigold we’re here for you every step.” Ivy smiled ruffling her hair, “Now I think you should go lay down, maybe settle your stomach and your nerves. You were looking a bit green and tense after your appointment.”

Marinette nodded, finishing her tea and croissant before heading back to her room to lay down. Damian finished off his breakfast quickly and excused himself before following Marinette leaving the two sirens and the small goddess at the table.

“At least he’s good for our little Mari.” Harley hummed sipping her coffee, “So long as he makes her happy he can stick around I guess but not too sure I forgive him for knocking our baby up.”

“Oh, now you don’t like him?” Ivy chuckled, raising her eyebrow at her.

“Oh, I adore the kid but you know one of us has to give him the shovel talk eventually.” Harley chuckled getting up to clean the dishes and put the leftovers away.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

@myazael @beautiful-disasters-sunshine @moonlightstar64 @moonlitceleste @stainedglassm  @casual-darkness @mochegato @ultimatetornshipper @heemsanddamemes @nathleigh @qualitypeacepainter @raven-frost-21 @maskedpainter @demonicbusiness @dood-space @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @indecisive-mess-named-me @changelinggarden @zerotosiki @alysrose-starchild @s-and-n @wolf2118 @athena452 @jjmjjktth @eliza-bich @solangelo252 @icerosecrystal @heinrode @Junarvion

@babylovebug18 @animegirlweeb @corporeal-terrestrial

[startanewdream]

Godfather duty

Summary: When James is surprised by Sirius and Harry coming home drunk four in the morning, he questions himself when he got too old for that.

For @theblueocean 

Part of the Jily Lives AU

Rated M for mentions of underage drinking and some swearing.

Read on AO3 with all the correct italics, or below the cut:

_________

His eyelids feel heavy, but James keeps writing. He is almost finishing the first draft of the article for Transfiguration Today; it's due Sunday and he still has five days to finish it, but James is really anxious for presenting it. It's not his first paper for that magazine, but his article will be the headline this time, and he promised himself he would send them in advance as much as he could - and he still needs to send it to Minerva for her to read and review.

It feels a lot like he is back in school doing essays, but James doesn't remember being that excited back at Hogwarts - well, not about homework anyway.

He puts the final dot and lets the quill rest, satisfied. He will proofread in the morning, maybe even rewrite altogether from a different perspective, but it's done and it's a competent article, he knows.

Human transfiguration was always a point of interest to him.

He raises, stretching up and looking at his watch. It's past four in the morning already; he really lost track of time. He remembers Lily calling him to go to bed - and then he promised her he would go in a minute, which he clearly forgot.

He suppresses a yawn as he leaves the library, thinking only of sinking on his bed when he hears a sound coming from the front porch.

All his sleepiness is gone instantly, and he turns with his wand already raised, alarmed and with his instincts screaming even though it’s been months since the war ended; someone is turning the doorknob. The spell is almost leaving his lips when the door opens wide and he sees Harry's joyful face.

Harry is not alone; Sirius is with him, their arms around each other in a brotherly gesture and for a moment James has a flashback of himself with Sirius with that same easiness, both of them beaming happily and goofy; it's a memory of twenty years ago, of a night they went around Muggle London joining a pub crawl that ended up with James' mother finding them passed out in the middle of the Potter’s living room in Godric’s Hollows.

A lot of things happened that night - a flight from the Muggle police when they tried to climb Cleopatra’s Needle, an attempt to perform a serenade to Lily only to realize they were on the wrong street and throwing eggs at Grimmauld Place number twelve - but what he remembers clearer is the smell of the alcohol on him as he woke up next morning - and then the taste of it all as he threw it all up.

And right now Sirius and Harry have that same smell of cheap whiskey mixed with beer.

James blinks, confused. As far as he thought, Harry had been back from work hours ago - James was sure Harry had been sleeping on his bed right now.

It’s evident he was wrong.

‘Hi, Prongs’, Sirius says, grinning from ear-to-ear, sounding much steadier than James would have guessed from the smell coming from them. ‘Care to let us in?’

'What's going on?', James asks, worried, stepping aside to let them enter. Both of them are stumbling, but James has the impression that Sirius is supporting Harry more than the opposite.

For some reason his question makes them look at each other.

'What I said?', Sirius asks Harry as if they are sharing some old joke. Harry lets out of one of his rare carefree giggles. 'What d'you think we are doing, dear Prongs?'

'Coming home drunk in the middle of the night?’

‘Chill out, Dad’, Harry says, winking at him.

Chill out?

‘It’s four in the morning of a Tuesday - I thought you were home already!’

‘I had to work late’, Harry answers immediately, grinning. Sirius takes him to the living room, trying to help him on the couch, but Harry slides to the floor, falling on the carpet.

‘On a bar?’

‘It’s for work’, Harry insists, eyes open as if that was obvious. 

‘It was a very important mission’, Sirius agrees. ‘Stealth. Mixing with locals. Spying on people’.

‘Oh, were there Death Eaters on that bar?’, James asks, rolling his eyes.

‘It could have been! Harry needs to know how to handle his alcohol!’

Harry giggles.

‘I handle it very well’, he says proudly, clapping his hands. ‘Tell him, Sirius’.

‘He won us money on darts. He even closed his eyes for the last shot. You would be proud!’

‘That you were letting my barely out-of-age kid bet on games?’

Sirius rolls his eyes.

‘Everything was under control, he won. Stop worrying, I was on godfather duty tonight -’

‘Between a drink and another, you mean?’

‘ - and I brought him home, right?’

‘Speaking of that’, James raises his eyebrows, now sounding openly reproachful. ‘How did you come home? Don’t tell me you drank and apparated’.

‘I would never!’

‘Or that motorbike - if you came here flying, I swear I will -’

‘Relax, Dad!’, Harry intervenes, now raising on a jump, ignoring how he tumbles in the process. ‘We got a cab. Eeeeeeverything under control’.

James watches his son go to the cabinet in the room, searching for something until he takes out a feather to doodle something on a parchment, not realizing it’s a grocery list.

‘I see the control’, he says dryly. ‘What are you doing, Harry?’

‘I am making a howler’.

‘What? What for?’

‘To howl, duh - hey!’, he turns to Sirius, his eyes sparkling madly. ‘Remus never sends letters - he only sends howlers!’

Sirius chuckles. ‘I howl too! Owoooooo!’

‘Hey, hey, you are going to wake up Lily!’

‘And?’

‘And maybe you don’t want her to see what you did to Harry - Harry, stop that, you are not sending anyone a howler’.

‘I have to tell Ginny I love her!’

‘She already knows, I am sure, you’ve told her’.

‘But I never yelled it!’

‘And she loves you more because of that, come on, give me that letter’.

‘I knew he wouldn’t let you send it’, Sirius says, his voice now smug. ‘Prongsie is old’.

James rolls his eyes.

‘Same age as you, Pads’, he remembers distantly, taking the letter from Harry, though now he realizes he didn’t need to worry. Harry’s letter is unintelligible and he doubts he could cast the spell to turn into a howler.

Harry pouts.

‘Sirius is right, you are square’.

‘What?’

‘We can never have fun’.

‘And you are so serious - more than me, haha!’, Sirius adds, now laying down lazily on the couch, his legs spread. James is about to complain that his shoes are all muddy and Sirius should take them out, but he stops.

Oh, Merlin, he is really getting a bit square, isn’t he?

‘I can be fun’, he stresses, making Sirius let out one of his bark laughs.

‘Yeah, years ago. Before you were a dad - no offence, Harry’.

Harry doesn’t seem to have heard him, which James considers a shame. Harry would surely defend him - he was a cool dad to Harry.

No, he is still a cool dad. The kind that Harry can feel at will to talk about anything, that supports Harry and that is always there for him.

Except that Harry didn’t tell him about working late tonight or going to a bar. Except Harry and Sirius didn’t ask for his company.

And if they did - he thinks of the paper he just finished and how excited he was for it.

He would have said no.

That’s not very cool of him.

‘I will take a flight!’, Harry declares, his eyes shining with this idea and for once James doesn’t feel satisfied with the mischievousness in him.

‘No drinking and flying’, James says sternly, and he decides that he will have to remain uncool for a little longer. ‘You - you stay here! Sirius - watch him. Better than you did so far, I mean’.

Sirius grimaces, evidently annoyed, but he sits next to Harry, who is now mumbling something incomprehensible, though Sirius seems to be listening to him with attention. James leaves them in the living room, locking the door behind him just in case, and goes to Lily’s office hoping she has stored a Hangover Potion. He is in no luck, of course; it’s been years since he and Lily even needed one - James believes it comes with the age knowing when to stop - and there was nothing in Harry’s latest behaviour that showed them they would need it.

For a second James almost considers waking up Lily, knowing she would make the potion in minutes, but he doesn’t want her to see the mess Harry is right now; it’s far better she hears it later than witnessing first hand. He grabs a small cauldron and the ingredients he will need and returns to the living room.

In the few minutes he was out, Harry and Sirius managed to make things strangely worse. There is snow in the room, that he sees Sirius casting from his wand; Harry is perfectly still, the snow making a sort of white hat on his head, his arms wide open and also covered in snow.

‘What -’, James tries to ask, but he just blinks at the weirdness on the scene.

‘Shhhh’, Sirius says, a finger on his lips. ‘Don’t distract him!’

‘What is Harry doing?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? Disguise training! He is a snowman!’

‘He is missing a carrot nose’, James notes, grimacing, and that makes Sirius turn his wand to Harry’s face. ‘I am joking!’

It’s too late; there is a flash of light and then there is a carrot on Harry’s face, replacing his nose.

‘Sirius!’, Harry complains, raising his hand to touch his new nose. His voice is muffled. ‘I can’t have a nose this big! How can I snog Ginny now?’

‘That’s your concern?’, James asks, half-amused, now taking out Sirius’ wand to make sure he doesn’t cast any more magic.

‘I will poke her in the eye!’, Harry says, moping, scratching the tip of his pointy nose thoughtfully.

‘I will transform you back as soon as you drink this potion, now lay still’. Harry sighs, sitting on the couch. Sirius sits next to him, patching him in the back as if he weren’t the one that turned Harry’s nose into a carrot in the first place.

‘Your nose matches her hair’, he says bracingly. ‘You will look beautiful together’.

‘I am not sure this is much comfort, Padfoot’, James notes, placing the cauldron in the fireplace and starting to throw in the ingredients. He could add something for the taste, but he believes the bitterness helps build character.

‘Well, I got him quiet, didn’t I?’, Sirius asks, pointing at Harry who is now sitting on the couch, still playing with his carrot nose.

‘You could have messed up so badly’.

‘I am not that drunk - I watched over your kid, no matter what you think of me’.

James shakes his head.

‘Letting him drink that much? He barely can stand - what if someone -’

‘The war is over, James’, Sirius tells him, sounding much grim now. ‘And like I said, I was there. Me, half-a-dozen junior Aurors and some seniors too’.

‘Unless any Death Eater threat would be a challenge to a drinking contest, I don’t think it would make much difference’.

‘Oh, Merlin’. Sirius sighs, walking to the drink cabinet and opening it to take a bottle of firewhiskey. ‘Here, drink this’.

‘What?’

‘You are sober, I hate talking to sober people when I am pissed. Sober people are boring’.

‘I am not boring’, James complains, pushing away the bottle that Sirius extends in his direction. ‘And I am past the age of being forced to drink to look cool’.

‘Then drink because it’s nice!’, Sirius says forcefully now. ‘Drink because you are alive! Drink because you are happy! Drink because for the first time in his life your son is properly pissed!’

‘That’s not a reason -’

‘That’s enough reason! He is eighteen! What age were we when we first got pissed?’

‘Seventeen’. Sirius raises his eyebrows, waiting for him, and James flushes, turning his attention to the cauldron. The potion is almost over. ‘Fine, fifteen - but it didn’t count, we weren’t thinking straight then’.

‘Yeah. Our first transformation’, Sirius remembers, but there is something heavy on his voice now.

‘What is the problem, Padfoot?’

‘Nothing’. 

That makes James stop. He takes the cauldron out of the fire, to let the potion cool down, and turns to Sirius, watching him. Sirius’ eyes are watery as he always gets when he drinks, but he sustains James’ look for a surprisingly full two minutes before he sighs.

‘Fine, you are the problem’.

‘Me? You take my son out for a drink without telling me, return home four in the morning and I am the problem?’

‘Look at what you are saying! He is of age! He was with his friends - and his very trustable godfather! He was having fun for once in his life, instead of living that responsible life you want for him’.

‘Responsible?’, James repeats, dumbfounded. Nobody had ever accused him of wanting to do the responsible thing. ‘I am just being his father’.

‘Well, maybe Harry doesn’t need his father anymore’.

There is a long pause after that. James blinks, once, twice, very slowly, trying to understand what Sirius means by that, and it’s only when he reaches for the drink cabinet to get a glass for the potion, that Sirius moves.

‘Shit - I didn’t mean like that - sorry, James, it’s not -’

‘No, I get it’, James says, his voice forcefully steady. ‘Harry wants the cool father figure that allows him everything - and, well, Sirius “what’s life without a little risk” Black is perfect for that’.

‘Don’t be absurd - that kid worships the ground you walk upon -’

‘And yet he was with you, not me. I get it. I am a father, not a friend’. He offers Sirius a full glass. ‘Drink this, you’ll feel better tomorrow’.

‘No, I deserve the hangover tomorrow, but that’s beside the point. It’s my fault’.

‘I don’t think you forced Harry to drink’, James notes dryly, sitting next to Harry to help him drink the potion. Harry seems to be in another world now, but he obliges to James’ help without questioning.

‘No, that was all on him - I mean it, he’d make you proud, he won a drinking contest with Thompson and he is twice Harry’s size - er, not helping, sorry’. Sirius sits on the other side of Harry. ‘He was going to tell you we’d be out for a drink. And I didn't let him'.

'Why? Why would you -'

'Because I thought you would overreact. Worry too much about him. Don't let him have any fun'.

'I would not -'

'And because I thought he'd ask you to come’.

James blinks. Between them, Harry lays his head on James' shoulder, now watching Sirius with mild curiosity.

‘I would ask’, he agrees, a note of pride in his voice. 

'Am I that bad company?', James asks in a low voice. Sirius shakes his head.

'Would you come with us?', he challenges. James keeps his gaze for a few seconds, but just like Sirius didn't lie for him before, he wouldn't dare speak anything but the truth.

'No, I had things to do today'.

'That article', Sirius scoffs. 'You don't talk about anything else'.

James frowns.

'It's really important - a chance of -'

'Getting yourself a name, I know, I know. But see -', his grey eyes are burning over James now, somewhat desperate. 'The Prongs I know would never care for reputation'.

'Sirius…'

'The Prongs I know would be honest with me'.

'I am - what are you -'

'I heard you and Kingsley, ok?', he blows off. 'Registering as an animagus? After all this time?'

There is another silence, broken only by the crackling fire.

'I was going to tell you', James says finally. 'I didn't think it was important - you don't have to register too -'

'That's not the point - you are breaking our trust -'

'It's just an entry on a list. It doesn’t change anything, I will keep our full moon nights -'

'When Remus has time, you mean?', he asks, sounding bitter now. 'He missed the last two, he'd rather stay home -'

'He has a kid now -'

'So do you and… you guys are getting old and responsible and too serious for me'.

'Nobody is more serious than you', James says, smiling at him, but Sirius just rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle of firewhiskey on the coffee table, taking a sip.

James extends his hand. Sirius raises one eyebrow, in disbelief, and his expression only relaxes a little when James takes a long sip of the firewhiskey. The drink burns his throat, infusing him with that weird dose of courage and a will to do something, but James just sighs.

'You are no less serious because of it', Sirius notes.

'I got serious - the war, the first one and then the second one and everything - and I think I forgot how to relax - but that doesn't mean… you are my brother, Sirius'.

'The annoying prettier baby brother?'

'You are older', James says, grinning, and after a second of hesitation, Sirius smiles too. 'You can invite me - I mean, we can do things together. Even if it sounds - or is - stupid'.

'Things together like… registering our animagus form?'

James rests against the couch, and Harry moves his head to rest more comfortably on his shoulders; James thinks he will sleep soon.

'You don't need to do it too - Kingsley already knows about you and he is the bloody Minister of Magic, isn't he? This was not about doing the responsible thing'.

'Then why -'

'I want the credit'. James presses his lips, before admitting something he didn't even share with Lily yet. 'I talked to Minerva - if I get back to my studies, get enough recommendation to be approved by the board, I could get her position'.

Sirius blinks, startled.

'Her position? You mean -'

'Transfiguration professor, yeah'.

He looks away now, feeling somewhat embarrassed. It had never really been an ambition - teaching was much more something Remus had always wanted to do than him; James had been glad to focus on his studies and develop new theories of transfiguration until then. 

But ever since Minerva had vented that possibility to him a few weeks after the end of the war, when they were repairing one of the halls destroyed in the battle, that thought had been on his mind. He wasn't in a rush, but the idea of getting back to Hogwarts, this time as a professor, watching other students learn from him as much as he had learned from Minerva McGonagall… he couldn't deny that idea had taken root in his mind.

James always teased her that he had been her favourite student, but the fact was that she was his favourite professor and there was some part of him that wanted to impress her and prove himself good enough to replace her someday.

He waits for Sirius' response, but there is only a silence that doesn't seem good.

'I know it's huge', James mumbles. 'There are others far more capacitated than me, I am starting now to -'

'Shut your mouth, Prongs', interrupts Sirius, and James turns to him. There is a grin on his face. 'Being humble never suited you'.

James laughs softly.

'I wasn’t trying to', he assures him.

'I thought - I thought you had wanted to do the right thing. You know, registering just because you wanted to follow the law, as if… as if you were ashamed of what we did illegally -'

'Now it's you who needs to shut up, Padfoot'. He takes another sip of the firewhiskey. ‘Animagus at age of fifteen? I’m damn proud of it. Also, that’s the only thing that I have done that’s cooler than half the stuff Harry got into’.

‘Yeah, I suppose it’s hard when your son is a bloody hero’.

Harry chooses that moment to start snoring loudly, which sends James and Sirius into a fit of laughter. James raises, careful to let Harry sleep on the couch, and Harry doesn’t look remotely close to waking up.

‘I am glad you took him out for a drink’, James says, taking out Harry’s glasses. ‘I was just jealous - it should have been me’.

‘I am sure there will be another occasion’, Sirius says dismissively. ‘He will probably forget every embarrassing thing he did, you know how that works’.

‘Oh, he embarrassed himself?’, James asks, a glint of fun on his eyes. Sirius smirks.

‘That happy giggling Harry you saw? Just the last stage. He was all cocky at first - that’s how we got into that darts bet’.

‘Harry? My son? Cocky?’

‘Oh, yeah, he reminded me a lot of you’, Sirius’ smirk increases. ‘He was strutting and all’.

‘Tell me you took pictures of it’.

‘I would never’, Sirius declares, though James isn’t sure he believes him this time. ‘And then he got very… honest’.

‘That doesn’t sound good for that stealth mission’.

Sirius shakes his head.

‘If he was spilling out Auror secrets I would be happier - no, instead I had to hear about the time he and Ginny -’

‘Nope, nope, I don’t want to know’.

‘Well, me neither, I won’t ever use your Invisibility Cloak again, you can be sure. But anyway - that’s why he got here so drunk. I decided vodka was the only way to shut him up properly’.

Sirius looks so satisfied with himself and his choices, that James knows what he has to do.

‘It’s late’, he says pleasantly. ‘Crash here tonight’.

‘Oh, I think I will - I am not fit to apparate’.

‘Let’s go upstairs then’.

‘And Harry?’

‘Oh, look at him. He is sleeping so well, he can stay here tonight’.

‘If you are sure’.

‘Yeah, yeah, everything will be fine’.

_________

James has slept barely four hours when he wakes up with Lily’s cry. He puts on his robe lazily, waiting a few minutes to go downstairs; when he passes Sirius’ room, the door is already opened.

Good.

He finds them all together in the toilet next to the kitchen, and by the sounds coming out of there, his Hangover Potion wasn’t very efficient.

‘We were working late, Lily’, Sirius is saying, sounding properly desperate. ‘And we went out for a drink -’

‘It was a Tuesday night! He has to work in one hour!’

‘So do I - but you see, I’m his boss, so everything is fine! Also, I don’t think any of the boys will show up -’

‘Perfect’, Lily interrupts him, her eyes sending daggers in Sirius’ direction. ‘Then you can take care of him’. She sees James. ‘Did you know about this?’

‘Me? I was working late on my text, you know’, he answers, yawning and looking very innocent.

Sirius waits until Lily is out for the kitchen to turn to James, his eyes narrowed.

‘You knew she would be mad. That’s why you told me to stick around’.

‘If I knew how my dear wife would react to knowing you got our son pissed? How could I?’

Sirius grimaces as there is another retching sound coming from the bathroom.

‘Oh, you better go there and don’t forget to keep Harry hydrated’.

‘Watch it’, Sirius says, but he goes into the bathroom anyway. ‘I won’t ever show you the pictures’.

James shrugs, undisturbed.

‘That’s fine. Next time Harry gets drunk, I will be there’.

‘I won’t ever ever ever drink again’, Harry moans, hugging the toilet seat now, his face sweaty.

‘Oh, kid, we’ve all been there’, Sirius sighs, flushing down the toilet and helping Harry raise.

James grins to himself, glad that Sirius is doing his godfather duty once again, and leaves them alone.

[deanxcasficrecs]

Hunter Cas fics

I know so many of you were expecting (or hoping) to have a human!Cas and canon Destiel by now but all we got was that shit show. I’m still bitter and not over it anytime soon. Anyway, I’ve got you covered. Here you go, fics with a fallen!Cas hunting things with a very much alive (future) boyfriend Dean. Take these, the gif from season 5, and try to forget about the let-down we were served. 

* * * 

Title: Dream of Now

Author: Sass_Master

Rating: Explicit

Words: 136,556 – Finished

Admin’s assessment: ★ ★ ★ ★ 

Admin J’s notes: I like this fic a lot. It’s well written and I just saw an episode of the show going on in my head. Except, there was smut and the stupid show didn’t even give us a kiss. Sorry, still bitter.

Summary: Various moments in Cas and Dean's relationship.

( Read here )

Title: The cost of a thing

Author: quiettewandering

Rating: Mature

Words: 74,198 – Finished

Admin’s assessment: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Admin J’s notes: I’m so confused. I have a vivid mental image of reading this fic ages ago. Literally, years ago. I have a clear image in my head of me reading this in a house I have not lived in for four years. And this is published in 2018-2019. What. The. Hell. Anyway, I love it. Enjoyed everything. I love when people come up with great ideas for cases and this definitely had one.

Summary: 16 months ago, Cas became human.

12 months ago, Cas left the bunker and a broken-hearted Dean behind.

Now they must work a case together, where married couples are dying mysterious deaths and the only way to earn the neighbors' trust is by pretending to be married. Slowly, Dean finds that he loves being in a relationship with Cas, fake or not, and Cas finds his loneliness retreating, despite the harsh reality looming right around the corner. As Dean and Cas navigate this fake, but all too real, relationship, can they find the monster that is on a mysteriously motivated killing spree before it’s too late?

( Read here )

Title: Put up your Dukes

Author: saltyfeathers

Rating: Explicit

Words: 38,282 – Finished

Admin’s assessment: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Admin J’s notes: I love Cas in this fic. I love Dean of this fic. I love Sam of this fic. Each one deserved their own sentence because I just loved them that much, okay? I first read this fic when I needed a good old hunting action with a fallen Cas and somehow ended up with this amazing piece, and I think you all need it now.

Summary: Dean can't sleep. Cas offers to tire him out.

( Read here )

Title: Bring Up the Deep

Author: beenghosting

Rating: Explicit

Words: 22,680 – Finished

Admin’s assessment: ★ ★ ★ ★

Admin J’s notes: I remember when I read this fic for the first time and was like ‘wow season 11 fic that’s new’. What even happened to the time. Take it and get back to the good old season 11.

Summary: They went back and forth on whether or not to make the drive until Sam found an article in the town’s local paper dated a week earlier about a lobster fisherman who swore a monster sank his boat.

( Read here )

Title: The Day the World Went Away

Author: pyjamagurl

Rating: Explicit

Words: 56,658 – Finished

Admin’s assessment: ★ ★ ★ ★

Admin J’s notes: Ah, the good old days when having to deal with Lisa was the biggest problems in the life of Destiel shippers. 

Summary: After being reunited with Sam and leaving Lisa, Dean is finding that adjusting back into the hunting lifestyle is harder than he thought it would be. When a particular hunt goes badly, he gets knocked out, only to awaken five years in the future. Things are definitely different; Castiel is a hunter, Sam is married and things between Dean and Cas had gone somewhere Dean really hadn’t expected. And somewhere in all of this there is a lesson to be learned.

( Read here )

Title: Oops, Castiel Found the Handcuffs

Author: allthebeautifulthings9828

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2,398 – Finished

Admin’s assessment: ★ ★ ★ ★  

Admin J’s notes: I don’t even know if I need to add a note when the fic is explicit and has less than 3k word. 

Summary: Dean teaches Castiel about all of the weapons and restraints in the trunk of the Impala, since he’s a new human interested in being a hunter. When Castiel finds the handcuffs, he has a few ideas about what to do with them. And Dean resists just to make it more fun for himself, the rebellious adrenalin junkie that he is.

( Read here )

[khantoelessar]

Hogan’s timeline prior to Stalag 13

The purpose of this meta is to make an attempt at trying to fit Robert Hogan’s timeline pre-Stalag 13 to match something close to that of the actual historical timeline of World War II. I’m not saying this is actual canon, more like suggesting a possibility to stimulate conversation about Hogan’s timeline before being shot down and also an interest in World War II itself.

There are going to be holes in my theory. I’m well aware of this. However, trying to fit Hogan’s Heroes canon timeline to actual historical timeline is like trying to piece it together with baling wire, duct tape and glue. But that is half the fun anyway.

So on we go.

Our first semi-confirmed date for the series is the pilot episode which tells us it is the winter of 1942.

We also have a semi-confirmed date from A Tiger Hunt in Paris that “Frank Dirken” escaped Stalag 13 December 1942. Now America entered the war when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbour on 7 December, 1941. Roosevelt officially declared war on Germany on 11 December, 1941.

But actual hostilities did not commence right away. There was the problem of getting all those men and material across the Atlantic but also, and I mean no disrespect to the Americans when I point this out, but due to America’s neutrality and non-intervention policy a majority of those in uniform at that time had no combat experience.

What this means in terms of Robert Hogan’s past prior to Stalag 13 is that it greatly constricts the time Hogan would have had to fight if he had first arrived in Britain with the rest of the USAAF. The first of the US 8th Air Force didn’t arrive in Britain until 12 May, 1942. (1) The first joint RAF/USAAF bombing raid was in the Netherlands on 4 July, 1942 (2) and the first solo US bombing raid in Europe was on 17 August, 1942, over Rouen. (3)

This would leave at the very most seven months for Hogan to not only establish his reputation as a bomber commander but also get shot down and then get the Stalag 13 operation up and running. In “Happiness is a Warm Sergeant” Le Beau says:

Le Beau: “Maybe we can tame [Kreb]. If he likes strudel.”

Hogan: “Come on. It took us six months to get Schultz to look the other way.”

Le Beau couldn’t have gotten the ingredients to make the strudel that is Schultz’s main bribe prior to the operation being set up, not from a POW camp.

Then there was the raid on the submarine base in Breman mentioned in “Two Nazis for the Price of One.”

Hogan: “I supposed you’re talking about the bombing mission I flew against your secret submarine base in Breman.”

There were three raids on Breman between May and December of 1942. 3-4 June, 25 – 28 June and 19 November. However there were other raids prior to that. (4)

One more interesting detail that I want to add before putting forward my theory as to Hogan’s timeline is that the first of the B17 flying fortresses saw action in Britain when the RAF used them to bomb Wilhelmshaven on 18 July, 1941. (5)

So here’s my theory. Hogan was flying for Great Britain before the US entered the war. There have been fanfics written on this which I highly recommend. However there is one snag with them. Hogan could not have been enlisted in the US Army Airforce when he did so. Not only was the US officially neutral in the war until 7 December, 1941 but it was illegal for US citizens to fly for Great Britain under America’s neutrality laws. But many did so by sneaking across the border into Canada with false papers, claiming to be Canadian or of other nationalities and travelling to Britain to join the RAF. (6) I think it is worth taking a moment to honour the courage of those men and what they risked. In the beginning the United States did not take these transgressions lightly as this story posted on the Warfare History Network attests.

“As they boarded the train for Montreal, the two Americans tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. They were well aware that if they were caught they would be in trouble. At the very least, they would be sent back to the United States. There was also the possibility that they could be sent to prison, as well as fined more money than they had seen in their entire lives.

At the Canadian border, the train stopped and several sinister looking officials got on board. They wanted to know where the two were going and why.

“We’re on our way to Montreal to see a cousin who runs a fish hatchery,” was the reply. One of the unsmiling officials—probably an FBI agent—wanted to know if they were fliers. “Don’t be silly. Do we look like fliers?”

The officials were apparently satisfied by the reply. One of them opened the suitcases of the two travelers and rummaged through the top layer of clothing. He did not look any deeper. If he had, he would have found what he was looking for—flying helmets, goggles, and logbooks. Instead, he closed the lid and wished the young fellows a pleasant trip.

The two Americans, Eugene “Red” Tobin and Andy Mamedoff, were not smuggling contraband. They were going to Canada to enlist in the air force of a foreign country which, in the early weeks of 1940, was against the law. “The Federal Bureau of Investigation kept a pretty close check on all Americans going to Canada,” Red Tobin later said, “so we had to watch our step.”

You can read the rest of the article here. (7)

The men who chose to go to Canada risked not only fines and imprisonment but also loss of their citizenship. (8)

It wasn’t until 19 November, 1941 that Britain officially revealed that there were three squadrons of American pilots called the Eagle Squadrons. (9)

Another fact the prohibits Hogan being part of the USAAF prior to the American entry is that prior to the war America had start to build up its own armed forces. (10) It began on 15 June, 1940. By 7 December, 1941 they had over 2 million in all branches. (11) This means that the USAAF was in desperate need of competent and skilled pilots to not only lead attacks but also to train new ones in its Air Corp tactical school. (12)

Combine these and I think it highly unlikely that the USAAF would have turned a blind eye to one of its best and most brilliant tactical pilots and officers to go AWOL to fight for a foreign country, especially at a time when the isolationist movement was strong.

There is another route open to Hogan having fought for the RAF and even during the Battle of Britain that I would like to explore here as a possible . . . let’s say, alternative headcanon.

He could have taken the route mentioned earlier by those other Americans, crossing the border into Canada, getting training there and then going onto Britain. I can see Hogan doing something like this. In the face of the news of repeated atrocities being committed by the Nazis and his country refusing to get involved, I can see Hogan taking on a false identity and slipping across the border in order to join the fight.

But this is also the same reason I think that Hogan was not allowed to go AWOL from the US Army. It would have violated Roosevelt’s Neutrality Laws, even though he declared,

This would have crossed to far over that line, to have an American USAAF officer openly fighting with the British, especially after Hogan started gaining fame as a war ace and bomber commander. If he was so feared by the Nazis that Biedenbender was jumped from Colonel to General;

Biendenbender: “You see I am the reason you are now here as a prisoner of war.” Hogan: “Thanks.” Biendenbender: “When the bombing raids of the squadron you commanded started to become . . . oh slightly annoying to the Third Reich I was assigned to study your tactics, to get inside your head, I know everything about you . . . so I was able to predict precisely the planning of your last bombing raid on Hamburg in which you were shot down, and I, hah, I was shot up to a General.”

then his fame would definitely have spread to the Commonwealth and then to America.

This is why I put forward the possibility that Hogan never enlisted in the USAAF. Also, Wikipedia states “None of the Eagle Squadron pilots had previously served in the USAAF and did not have US pilot wings.” (14)

There is the option that Hogan never joined the Eagle squadrons directly but flew for the RAF separately. First of all, according to the Wikipedia site (13) none of the Eagle squadrons flew bombers, let alone B17s. Also, in the episode “Some of Their Planes are Missing” and “Funny Thing Happened on the Way to London” we are told that Hogan was attached to the RAF.

If we take this into account when we look at Hogan’s timeline, we get a lot more room for Hogan to have accomplished all that he did. If he snuck across the border into Canada under a false identity prior or during the Battle of Britain which was July through September 1940 (15) he would have over a year of experience, including making his bombing runs on Breman before being finally transferred over to the USAAF and the 504th bomb squadron once America entered the war. The same Wikipedia site quoted before also states that the ranks in the RAF were transferred after some negotiations to the nearest equivalent rank.

There is another detail from the series that supports Hogan’s story links to Britain and the RAF over that of the USAAF and that is the fact that he reports to London, not Washington. Almost all his links to the Allies are British. There are a few Americans, General Barton in “The General Swap”, General Tilman in “How to Cook a German Goose with Radar”, the captain of that submarine in “The Pizza Parlour” and we do see the alliance of the British and the Americans in “Easy Come, Easy Go”.

But other than that all of his contacts and command structure that he reports to are British. There is no mention of the OSS or of Washington. When Hogan is flown back to England for the briefing before D-Day in “D-Day at Stalag 13” the General (we are not given a name) is British, not American and the “old man” they refer to is Churchill, not Roosevelt.

General: “Even to tell you this much this much had to be cleared at the highest level of intelligence, the Old Man himself.”

Hogan could have been one of those Americans who crossed the border into Canada, got false papers there and traveled to Britain to joined the RAF. He didn’t join the Eagle Squadrons (although I can see him qualifying on the spitfires because they were one of the best planes out there) because he’d been transferred to Bomber Command. When America entered the war, he transferred to the USAAF with the equivalent rank of Colonel and put in charge of the 504th bomb group (even though in reality the 504th flew in the Pacific theatre and not the European one and was part of the 20th Air Force) because by then his reputation had long since proceeded him. He was part of the US mass bombing raid on Ploesti on 12 June, 1942 (16) but was shot down after that and was transferred to Stalag 13 just about the same time as Klink, who (I’m assuming was there to solve the massive escape problems) as we are told in “The Kommadant Dies at Dawn”

Hogan: “Are you kidding, before I arrived you had so many escapes they were going to put a revolving door at the front gate.”

Now like I said this headcanon is not water proof. There are some holes that I can’t fill.

Hogan does say that he was assigned to the Pentagon in “Klink vs the Gonculator”

As mentioned previously, I don’t think the Army would have let him go AWOL to fight for a foreign country if he was already an officer.

On the other hand I should point out that he was talking to Klink and was running one of his cons on him. It is also possible that he was assigned briefly to the Pentagon after Pearl Harbour but before he was shot down. His experience and connections in the RAF would have been invaluable. So maybe this possible headcanon of mine still holds water.

There are also other people who could have taken this path to the war and that is Kinch and every other black POW in Stalag 13.

The Tuskegee Airmen, the only black American squadron in World War II were first deployed overseas in North Africa on 24 April, 1943. (17) That’s too late for Kinch and the other black POWs to be shot down and sent to Stalag 13.

But while the American forces were segregated Canada and Great Britain weren’t quite so insistent on it. They couldn’t afford to be. This is not to say there wasn’t discrimination. Both Canada and Britain did have discriminatory practices (18) (19) that limited enrollment to all but the most general positions to those not of white European descent. But in practice a person of colour’s ability to not only enlist but to serve in a role beyond that of support personal depended very much on the recruitment officer as shown in this story.

“In 1939 the so-called colour bar that prevented black people from serving in the British forces was formally lifted, largely because the Second World War meant that the Army, Navy and Air Force needed to recruit as many men as possible.

The lifting of the bar didn’t necessarily mean it was easy for would-be West Indian recruits to get in however.

There were people who would try three or four times to get in, or pay their own passage to come to Britain from the Caribbean.

Another route in was via the Royal Canadian Air Force. Canada may have been freezing cold but it was considered to be a warm and tolerant place for prospective black servicemen.

Billy Strachan couldn’t get into the RAF, so he sold his trumpet and used the money to pay his own passage to travel through U-boat-infested seas to London. He arrived at Adastral House in Holborn and declared his desire to join the RAF. The corporal at the door told him to “piss off.”

Happily however, an officer walked past who turned out to be rather more welcoming. He asked Strachan where he was from, to which Strachan replied  “I’m from Kingston.”

“Lovely, I’m from Richmond” beamed the officer.

Strachan explained that he meant Kingston, Jamaica.

Shortly after that, he was training for aircrew.”

He went on to do a tour as a navigator in Bomber Command, then retrained as a pilot and flew with the 96th squadron.” (20)

See this link for the full story.

There were black fighter pilots in the RAF as shown in the links above. Not only that there were women of colour as well, such as Lilian Bader who joined the WAAF and Noor Inayat Khan who was one of the Special Operations Executive’s top agents in France. (21)

This is not to say that there wasn’t discrimination against people of colour in Canada and Britain. There certain were as the websites quoted here show.

But the racism was not as bad or as extreme as it was in the United States. People of colour could fill high ranking and highly visible prominent positions in the Second World War as shown in this article here. (22)

So this is a route that Kinch, Baker and the other black POWs could have taken to Stalag 13. Sneaking across the border, getting fake papers, training in Canada and then heading to Britain.

One of the holes in this possible theory is the issue of their uniforms. Unlike the American pilots who were white the black Americans pilots (if there were any) would not have been have been given equivalent rank in the USAAF or even been allowed to fly in the Eagle Squadrons once they were transferred to the USAAF. America was adamant on segregation, as shown here,  (23) something that caused extreme tension in Britain.

While there was racism in Britain towards people of colour the racial hatred demonstrated towards black servicemen by the American G.I.s came as a shock to the British population. (24)

Hogan could have protested segregation all he wanted, demanded Kinch be allowed to fly until he was blue in the face (assuming he and Kinch did know each other as implied in “Prince of the Phone Company” episode).

Kinch: “Hogan?” Hogan: “Robert. Hogan.” Kinch: “Ha Ha! Of course! I went to school with this man in America.”

The Americans would not allow an integrated air force. At best Kinch and the other black pilots would have been sent back to the States to join the Tuskegee airmen.

At this point there are two routes open for Kinch and the other black POWs to have been in Stalag 13 in time to help Hogan start his operation. One, they had been shot down prior to the arrival of the 8th Army USAAF in Britain by 12 May 1942.

The second option is that they remained with the RAF instead of transferring to the USAAF. As this article point out some of the Eagle Squadron members decided to remain with the RAF instead of transferring to the USAAF. (25)

So my theory for a possible route could work for Kinch as well as for Hogan. They could have both snuck into Canada as civilians, got official training and then joined the RAF. Hogan joined bomber command and gained his reputation as a war ace and tactician then joined the USAAF after America entered the war. Kinch was either shot down on a mission just before 12 May 1942 or remained with the RAF and was shot down later. Hogan flew several more missions until Bienderbender overwhelmed him. The Red Cross would have notified Britain about Kinch and the others and Britain in turn would have notified the US who in turn would have had the American Red Cross send the black POWs American uniforms.

This may have led to a reduction in rank for Kinch. The role of navigator (originally titled observer in the RAF) which he fills in “Hogan throws a birthday party”,

was usually filled by commissioned officer, see link (26), but could hold any rank from airman second class to Group Captain. The rank of flight sergeant in the RAF is the equivalent of a Master Sergeant in the USAAF. But if Kinch held a rank higher than that (which seems likely given the skill and high level of responsibility) then his being a sergeant in Stalag 13 would have meant a reduction in rank.

But as I said, this is just speculation on my part in an attempt to try and put the canon of Hogan’s Heroes into something that fits the actual historical timeline. I freely admit that there are holes in my theory.

Which is why I’m saying that this theory of mine is put forward as a possible alternative route that Hogan, Kinch and the other black POWs could have taken to get to Stalag 13 and leave them enough time for them to do all that they did and I hope it stimulates discussion and thought and (not to sound like I’m getting on a soap box here but I love research) a desire to research World War 2 for interest in the subject. Certainly that is what Hogan’s Heroes did for me.

Sources

1.      World War II Database: https://m.ww2db.com/event/today/05/12/1942

2.      History.net: https://www.historynet.com/first-usaac-raf-joint-combat-mission-july-4th-1942.htm

3.      World War II today: https://ww2today.com/17th-august-1942-the-usaaf-makes-its-first-raid-on-occupied-europe

4.      Bombing of Bremen in World War II: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bombing_of_Bremen_in_World_War_II

5.      World War II Database: https://ww2db.com/aircraft_spec.php?aircraft_model_id=4 \

6.      Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Non-British_personnel_in_the_RAF_during_the_Battle_of_Britain#United_States

7.      Warfare History Network: https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/2017/01/18/americans-in-the-royal-air-force/

8.      Royal Air Force Museum: https://www.rafmuseum.org.uk/research/online-exhibitions/americans-in-the-royal-air-force/eagle-squadrons/

9.      WWII: The Complete War Report. Directed by Various. Mill Creek Entertainment. 2017

10.  Not Even Past: https://notevenpast.org/inching-towards-war-military-preparedness-in-the-1930s/

11.  National World War II Museum: https://www.nationalww2museum.org/students-teachers/student-resources/research-starters/research-starters-us-military-numbers

12.  The US Army Airforces in World War 2: https://media.defense.gov/2010/Nov/05/2001329898/-1/-1/0/aaf_wwii-v1-2.pdf (pages 85 & 142)

13.  Teaching American History: https://teachingamericanhistory.org/library/document/radio-address-delivered-by-president-roosevelt-from-washington/

14.  Wikipedia: Eagle Squadrons: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eagle_Squadrons

15.  Britannica.com: https://www.britannica.com/event/Battle-of-Britain-European-history-1940

16.  142nd wing : https://www.142fw.ang.af.mil/News/Article-Display/Article/1211286/redhawk-reflections-on-the-first-american-mission-in-europe-1942/

17.  Tuskegee Airman: https://www.tuskegee.edu/Content/Uploads/Tuskegee/files/TUSKEGEE_AIRMEN_CHRONOLOGY12.2011.pdf (page 9)

18.  Historyhit.com: https://www.historyhit.com/was-the-raf-especially-receptive-to-black-servicemen-in-world-war-two/

19.  CBC.ca: https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/black-canadians-second-world-war-1.5793974

20.  Historyhit.com: Was the RAF Especially Receptive to Black Servicemen in World War Two? | History Hit

21.  Second World War Experience Centre: https://war-experience.org/lives/noor-inayat-khan-soe/

22.  Royal Air Force Musuem: https://www.rafmuseum.org.uk/research/online-exhibitions/pilots-of-the-caribbean/across-the-commands/

23.  Royal Air Force Museum: https://www.rafmuseum.org.uk/research/online-exhibitions/pilots-of-the-caribbean/answering-the-call/the-second-world-war-1939-to-1945-segregation/  

24.  Theconversation.com: https://theconversation.com/black-troops-were-welcome-in-britain-but-jim-crow-wasnt-the-race-riot-of-one-night-in-june-1943-98120

25.  The National Interest: https://nationalinterest.org/blog/reboot/these-americans-flew-royal-air-force-during-world-war-ii-168713

26.  Wikipedia: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/RAF_Bomber_Command_aircrew_of_World_War_II

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter Four.

a/n: this was one of my fav chapters to write, so hope you all enjoy! I think you’re all gonna like this one hehe :’) pls reblog to share and leave feedback as it continues to motivate me <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 10.1k

come talk to me about WTSGD! i’d love to know your thoughts!

October 31, 2017 

A lot had happened in the last five months that felt like an eternity. 

After Luci’s very first performance for Miss Saigon and her unfortunate breakdown that was caused by one of the biggest critics of Broadway, practically insulting her, she performed almost every night after that. 

When one bad review on her performance was ratified by hundreds of tweets and reviews, saying that Luci’s performance was one of the best they’d ever seen, she’d say she did her damn job. The night of her breakdown, she received a text from Nina, who sent her a link to a few reviews on her Broadway debut. Those articles directly addressed how unprofessional and poorly written Adam West’s review was, and that he needed to open his eyes to observe and admire brilliant, wonderful, and beautifully performed talent. On top of the important names next to Adam West, theatre-Twitter seemed to agree with the positive articles that were written about her, tweeting that Luci was the next face of Broadway; and who cared if she started her career in commercials and Off-Broadway because getting the role in Miss Saigon had proved that she worked her way up and that she was good. 

After reading the articles and tweets, her mood had drastically shifted. She was so overwhelmed by the positive comments that defended her from a misogynistic man that she cried again, but it was tears of happiness this time around. She walked out of her apartment, headed to Harry’s door to show him the uplifting reviews, and he was happy to see that she was ecstatic—he was happy for her. 

They had definitely become closer since that day. 

Harry and Luci hung out a lot. Whenever they had the chance and they both weren’t busy, they would knock on each other’s doors or text one another, asking to hang out. For the most part, he opened up to her, showcasing his true personality and becoming more comfortable around Luci—enough to joke around and be himself. He loved the way he didn’t feel like he had to be someone he’s not; everything felt true and real. 

It was refreshing for Harry to have a real friend, a best friend, other than Jeff and Mitch. Although he developed a small crush on said friend, it was nice to just have a chat and walk around the neighborhood with her. He’d been talking himself up to ask her out, not knowing if she’ll say yes or if she even feels that way about him; but from what he could tell, he thinks that she’s sort of infatuated with him. Luci would flirt with him from time to time, and would tell him that he’s adorable and sweet, making Harry’s cheeks redden from the sweet talk. 

Luci’s situation with Daisy and Samuel never got better. Ever since she started to perform more and more—sometimes even more than Daisy—they would be nothing but rude to her. They weren’t used to someone taking their spotlight; it was like someone stepping right in front of them on center stage to steal the show—especially if it was someone they despised and was new to Broadway. The two tried to take it up with Tal, demanding and arguing about how they deserved to perform every single night, but Tal kept her word to Luci and the rest of the industry: that she would stand up for her cast and run the show herself. 

Throughout the months, Luci had been talking with Harry about something very, very important. It was a few weeks ago, during their walk to a bagel place in the morning, when she first brought it up. 

“Remember that lady who came up to me after the show?” She asked as they walked along the sidewalk. Harry nodded, letting out a ‘mhm.’ “So, she’s a talent agent…” Harry raised his brows, thinking she was an agent for Broadway. “In Hollywood.” Samantha Stone was one of Hollywood’s greatest and biggest agents; she mostly worked with actors who were first starting out in the industry before making them successful. Samantha was always on the hunt for new and fresh talent; she walked the streets with an eye like a hawk. 

In early September, Samantha was in New York for a small getaway, as well as to meet one of her side pieces in the city. She figured she could watch a show or two since she was already in the city, and it’d been ages since she'd seen a Broadway show. Deciding on Miss Saigon because she saw the tweets and reviews of Luciana, she decided to give it a shot and see what her hype was about. And it did not disappoint. She was so intrigued and invested in the story, and was absolutely blown away by Luciana’s performance. Naturally, even though she shouldn’t be working, she waited until the cast was coming out of the theatre to approach her. 

Luci was in complete shock because she’d never had anyone walk up to her, telling her to give her a call because she was a talent agent and hoped to work with her soon. When Luci got back home, she looked up Samantha Stone and her breath hitched as she found out who she had worked with and what she did for a living. 

“Holy shit!” Harry completely stopped walking, making Luci stop as well. They stood on the side of the sidewalk as people passed by them. Harry beamed excitedly, but soon his smile softened, noticing Luci’s didn’t match his. “What’s the matter? Why aren’t you excited?” 

“I-I don’t know. I just get nervous thinking about it, like she wants to work with me.” Luci fiddled with her fingers. 

“Isn’t that great?” Harry asked softly; he didn’t see what was wrong with that, but he was being patient with Luci to try and understand what she was feeling and thinking about.

She nodded. “It is. I’m just nervous; I hate disappointing people. What if I call her and I do an audition or whatever, and she realizes that I’m not meant for the job? She’s the biggest agent in Hollywood, Harry. That would mean I’m not meant for any job,” she explained worriedly, anxiety bubbling up in her stomach as if it’d been simmering for hours on the stove.

Harry slightly frowned. He couldn’t imagine how it must feel to doubt one’s own talents, and he absolutely hated that Luci was doing it. 

“Luciana, listen to me.” Well, that definitely caught her attention. “You’re remarkably talented, end of. If you end up being dropped by that agent, then fuck her. She shouldn’t be a talent agent if she can’t see clear talent right in front of her. Literally everyone in the same room knows you are so incredibly gifted. Plus, wouldn’t you like to try it out? It doesn’t hurt to try because you have nothing to lose. You’ll still be on Broadway; and then you’ll try again later if right now is not your time.” 

Smiling, she appreciated his words. She nodded, knowing he was completely right. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot.” Her response seemed to satisfy Harry. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. I’ll always be here for you.” She smiled. “Still gonna help me grade papers?” 

She chuckled as they started walking on the pavement again. “Yup. Believe it or not, it’s actually fun grading papers.” 

He turned to her shockingly. “Oh, really? Then maybe you could be my TA and I’ll have you grade all the papers.” Luci laughed, saying that she didn’t mind; she adored moments when they were playful. Their friendship was refreshing to the both of them. 

A week after her conversation with Harry, where he reassured and encouraged her, she called Samantha, who was delighted to hear from Luci. Samantha asked if she wanted to meet for lunch; Luci was hesitant, but she remembered Harry’s words, and it really didn’t hurt to try, so she agreed and they met in Midtown at a Thai restaurant. 

It was a casual luncheon where Samantha got to know Luci before she decided if she wanted to sign her or not. Luci completely rocked her socks; she was funny, kind, and very humble—traits that not a lot of stars had. So, Samantha immediately thought she was perfect and very likeable. After thirty minutes of eating and chatting, Samantha pulled out her business side, along with a contract, and discussed what this could mean for Luci. She went over her contract very quickly, and Luci knew she couldn’t keep up so she pretended to listen, nodding and letting out a ‘mhm’ to be interactive. 

Samantha had a pen ready for her to sign, but if Luci knew anything, it was to not sign contracts right then and there, and to go over the contract in further details on her own. So, Luci told her that she would look over the stack of papers once more before she got back to her potential agent. 

Luci wished she took a business class to understand such things about contracts and how to handle things herself, but she thinks that she might enroll in some classes some time soon. She attended Boston University and graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in Performing Arts in Theatre Arts. On top of auditioning, solo acts, musical pieces, and countless shows for the four years she was there, she maintained a 3.5 GPA in her general education, and that’s something she’s incredibly proud of herself for. There were a few classes during her freshman year that she failed, making her consider dropping out, but she picked herself back up and promised herself to work harder, and she did. 

When she got back home, she tossed the contract on her coffee table as she sighed, grabbing a glass of water. She had felt stressed out about the situation, but then she remembered that Harry’s sister, Gemma, was a lawyer in London. So, she sent Harry a quick text, telling him about her situation, and asked if Gemma was able to help out. Harry was on his lunch when she texted, but he quickly asked Gemma and she was quick to comply, anything to help her brother’s friend.

The day after, Harry and Luci both sat down on his couch, FaceTiming Gemma on his laptop; it was the very first time his sister and Luci were meeting each other. Harry warned Luci that Gemma was a bit tough with his new friends, but once the two women chatted for a few minutes, Gemma was smittened with her; Harry was shocked at how quick they seemed to become friends, but he cherished it because he liked Luci…a lot. 

Luci had sent over a scanned version of the contract, so they went over it together with Harry sitting next to her for moral support; and from what Gemma said, the contract was clean. The most important thing that Gemma was looking for was that Luci had a say to back out of the contract, and it stated that clearly. Gemma told her that she could sign the contract if she wanted, and that eased Luci’s anxieties, making her thank Gemma almost a million times for her help. 

The next day, Luci met up with Samantha for brunch with the signed contract in her hand. Samantha was delighted to see that it was inked with her signature; she told Luci that this won’t be the only thing she was going to sign because so many people are going to want her autograph. That made Luci smile, giggling a tad bit at the thought of it. 

By the beginning of October, Samantha called Luci and informed her that she was booked for an audition for a supporting character in Ocean’s Eight that was to be released late next year. Luci was surprised at how quickly Samantha was able to get her an audition, but they didn’t call her the best for nothing. 

With only two weeks to prepare, Luci put her time and effort into rehearsing the few pages of the script Samantha had sent her. Luci didn’t have a talent coach whatsoever, so she tried her best to see every aspect of her acting, jotting down notes on the margins so she could further better herself. She was hiding her stress and nerves quite well as she tried not to freak out about how insane this opportunity was to even audition. 

When her audition was only two days away, she called Ren for the traditional pep-talk that inspired and motivated her to do better and to try her best because that was all that she could do. She wished that her family was physically next to her so she could feel the comfort and warmth that they provide because after all, they are home and always will be. 

Luckily, some producers were in New York holding auditions, so she didn’t have to fly to California for a day or two. She’d never felt more intimidated and nervous than the moment she stepped inside the medium-sized room that was painted in a light gray tone. A long foldable table was in the middle of the room with a small camcorder on a tripod next to it. Luci’s had many auditions, but this…this was real shit, the real deal. She was standing in front of Hollywood and big name producers who’d never heard of her name until the moment she walked in and they had a glimpse of her portfolio. 

She introduced herself, masking the nerves that were crawling up and down her body with a warm smile—not too bright, but enough to show her gorgeous grin. They asked her to read off of page twenty-three to twenty-five; taking a breath, she gave all that she could. And in her opinion, it’s the best acting she’d ever done, which is saying a lot because she thinks she did quite well after every show of Miss Saigon. 

The producers’ faces were unreadable as they simply looked at one another, writing a few notes on their yellow notepads. Luci wanted to lurk, to see what they were writing as she hoped they weren’t disappointed or had immediately crossed out her name from their list. 

They thanked her for coming in before dismissing her; she thanked them as well, waving as she walked out the door where she released the biggest sigh. It wasn’t from relief because she was still on edge of the result of her audition, but she felt like she had been holding her breath for the ten to fifteen minutes that she was in that room. Her heart was pounding quite sturdily; and if she was being honest, her mind had completely blanked out once they yelled ‘action,’ but that was usual for her. 

Now that it was ten days after her audition and Halloween, Harry practically begged Luci to get out of her apartment. She knew that she couldn’t stay cooped up in her room as she overthought the audition constantly. She began to get headaches from overthinking every single thing she did in that audition, and it drove her insane. 

So, when Harry suggested that she should go to the Halloween party that Daisy was throwing on the rooftop of her building, she dreaded it at first, but the thought of going out was calling her. She assumed Daisy wouldn’t want Luci to be at her party, but she invited the entire cast and a few more people that she knew personally, so it wasn’t like Daisy was going to speak to her. Since it was a party, everyone could bring a guest or a few friends, so that was when Luci begged Harry to attend with her. 

“Please, come with me.” She had her best pouty lip on, looking at him with doe eyes. Just by that look, he almost gave in, but he wasn’t sure if this type of party was for him. Harry was a mellow and chill guy; he didn’t need rooftop parties and unlimited amounts of booze. He was fine with a small gathering, a few movies and board games—now, that was his type of party. “The party would be so much more fun with you there.” 

Harry playfully scoffed. “Please. Luci, I’m the most boring guy there is.” 

Her brows furrowed in disagreement. “No, you’re not. I happen to think you’re quite fun.” He smiled softly at her in appreciation. “Please. We wouldn’t even have to stay that long.” 

He could tell that she wanted, no, needed him to be there with her. She wasn’t very close with her cast mates—despite all the months she’d been part of the production—besides Nina. But Nina knew everyone so Luci would be left awkwardly standing there, waiting for her friend to come back. 

“How long would we stay?” 

Her eyes brightened with hope. “However long you want.” 

“An hour? Hour and a half, tops?” 

“Sounds perfectly fine to me.” 

“And what would we wear?”

Luci was a bit shocked by his question. “You wanna match?” 

“I mean, that would be fun, right?” She nodded, agreeing. “Since it is quite last minute, I say we dress up as the 70s or 80s era. Pretty easy, right?” 

She liked the sound of that. “Yes, let’s do 70s! I wanna raid your closet because I know you have some gems in there.” 

Harry laughed out loud—her favorite laugh that was music to her ears. He knew he had a great sense of fashion, and he’d always go to the thrift store to pick up something that he’d never worn before. It wasn’t like he was not going to wear it, he just needed to be more comfortable with himself to wear the clothes that he buys. So, for now, he settled with black skinny jeans and patterned-print button downs, which is the most ‘flashy’ he’d dress as…for now. 

“I knew I liked you for a reason because I was hoping you’d say 70s.” Luci felt her cheeks warm up before they went to Harry’s apartment. 

It took an hour and a half to find an outfit that Harry liked; it would’ve been shorter, but with Harry’s 70s playlist that was playing in the background, they took breaks to dance and sing. Harry had a beautiful voice, Luci thought; and she wondered if he was ever in a band before or wrote music because he does have an elaborate music taste, and that added to Luci’s liking for him. 

They proceeded to go to Luci’s apartment so Harry could help her find an outfit. He brought his wireless speaker so the music wouldn’t stop; and she continuously threw the articles of clothing onto her bed—where Harry was lying on his stomach—every time he shook his head no. 

With the same amount of time it took Harry to decide on an outfit, Luci settled on hers. She looked in her full-body mirror, twirling around to see if it looked okay and if she was satisfied with it. Harry remained on her bed, admiring how beautiful she looked as he thought that she was way out of his league. As Luci was dancing and prancing around her apartment, Harry was deep in his thoughts; he didn’t know if asking Luci out was the way to go. Not only would he lose her as a friend when or if she rejects him, but he couldn’t bear the ache he would feel in his heart. 

For his own sake, he needed to protect himself before the heartbreak; and if that meant refraining himself from making a move, then that was completely fine to him. 

“Ready?” Luci called out from the doorway. Harry got off the bed, looking her up and down. 

She was wearing peach colored pants that flare at the bottom, sitting high on her waist; a white silk blouse with orange accents, a long brown coat because it was quite chilly outside, and pink glasses that were transparent. He thought she looked absolutely beautiful, and her outfit was meant for her. The colors matched Harry’s outfit as he wore rust-orange pants that sat wide at the bottom, a flashy patterned long-sleeved blouse with the collar matching his pants. Luci gave him a similar pair of glasses as hers, so they weren’t wearing shaded lenses in the nighttime. 

“Yup. You, uh, look really good.” 

Luci smiled, shrugging one shoulder. “Thank you! You look good, too. This color looks amazing on you.” 

Harry looked down at his outfit, hiding the blush that formed on his cheeks. “Thank you. I like it a lot.” 

They headed out and towards Daisy’s apartment building where the rooftop was large enough for everyone to stand comfortably without feeling like they were shoulder-to-shoulder. There were plenty of lounge chairs, and a few tall bar tables next to tall heaters, considering it was just below fifty degrees. 

Some people were making their way towards Daisy's apartment since it was too cold outside, but Harry and Luci decided to stay, both agreeing that the heaters were keeping them warm as they sipped on their drinks. 

“Luci!” Nina walked over towards her, giving her a hug; Luci made sure not to mess up the placement of her fairy wings. 

“You look amazing!” Luci complimented as Nina put her hands on her cheeks, thanking her friend. Luci could tell that Nina was a bit drunk already as her eyes were drooping and she couldn’t stand straight on her own two feet. 

“Harry! I’m so glad you’re here.” He smiled saying hello to her. Nina and Harry met in July when he had gone to see another show. He was giving Luci another bouquet of flowers—the same bundle that he gave her the last time since she told him that she really liked them, and they looked amazing on her windowsill—and she dragged him to find Nina since she was performing the same show. Nina immediately gave Luci that certain look that said ‘he’s really cute,’ and Luci just nodded, giving her an apparent look as well. 

“Did you bring anyone?” Luci asked, knowing that she was talking to a few guys; her favorites, from what Nina told her, was Laurent and Alec—the two guys that are in her Soul Cycle class, one on Monday and the other on Friday. 

Nina shook her head. “No. I wanted to get fucked up today and didn’t want any of my mans see that shit. Oh! Can I take a picture of you two? You both look so cute!” 

Luci looked at Harry, silently asking and he nodded. She stood beside him, not knowing whether to put her arm around his waist. They’d never taken a picture together before, after all the months of knowing each other. Luci handed Nina her phone before she turned on the flash, taking a picture of the two. Harry hesitantly puts his arm around Luci’s shoulder, making her look at him, smiling. She then wrapped her arm around his waist as they both smiled at each other before looking back at the camera. Nina was squealing behind the phone because she just captured the cute and quiet interaction between them that made for a sweet candid. 

Nina handed Luci’s phone back to her before she told her that she was going to talk to some other people. The two women hugged, and Nina said goodbye to Harry. 

Harry leaned into Luci’s side, bending down slightly. “Send me those pictures, yeah?” 

A chill ran through her body at the sound of his voice so close to her ear. “Sure,” she croaked out, sending the pictures to him. 

After a few moments of light conversation and humming the beat of the music, Harry asked, “So, which one is Daisy?” 

Luci looked at him, quite shocked as to what sparked his interest in her, but she didn’t say anything. She looked around until she spotted her in a leather catwoman suit, hugging her body tightly that Luci thought it was cutting off her circulation. But she had to admit that it looked amazing on her. 

“That one.” She slyly pointed at Daisy who was talking to some of her friends. Luci was surprised to see that Samuel wasn’t here, considering that he was part of the cast. Daisy and Samuel seemed to be in their ‘off again’ stage of their relationship; and no one who was part of the cast or who was close to them could keep up with how many times they’d been through that stage, but they seemed to like each other too much to call it quits for good. 

“Hmm. She seems nice.” 

“Yeah, she does—to everyone except me.” They were both looking at Daisy, and it was like Daisy could sense a few eyes on her, so she looked around and made direct eye contact with Luci. She excused herself to her group of friends before making her way towards her and Harry. “Speak of the devil.” Luci sighed, making Harry chuckle. 

“Luci! I’m so glad you made it.” Daisy faked a smile as she greeted Luci with a hug, which surprised both Luci and Harry. Daisy pulled away, immediately locking eyes on this. “Oh, who’s your friend?” Instantly, Luci knew why Daisy was so nice to her; it was because she spotted Harry and didn’t want him to think she was such a bitch. 

With her brows furrowed, Luci shifted a little closer to Harry who was standing there and not saying anything. “This is Harry.” 

Daisy flashed him her stunning smile that wooed almost everyone. “Hi, I’m Daisy.” He shook her hand, introducing himself. “Your outfit looks really good.” She complimented him. 

“Thanks, Luci helped me pick it out.” He smiled at Luci, who was smirking. For a second, Daisy rolled her eyes before she returned to her big smile. 

“Would you like to get a drink with me? I see you’re almost empty.” Daisy’s eyes pointed at his cup, which only had a small sip lingering at the bottom of his clear plastic cup. 

“Uh-”

“C’mon, just one drink?” Her voice was innocent and sweet, nothing like the cruel and rude Daisy that Luci knew all too well. 

What Luci expected Harry to say was that he was okay and that he didn’t want a drink with her, but he responded quite the opposite. 

“Okay, sure.” Luci’s head averted towards Harry as she looked at him with shock and a face asking what the fuck he was doing. But he shrugged as Daisy clapped, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the bar. Luci huffed, watching the two walk away and she was left by herself with a watered down drink and the cold air. 

She figured she’d wait for him to come back to where she was sitting, hoping he wouldn’t take too long. 

But twenty minutes had gone by, and Luci started getting annoyed.  

Thirty minutes, and Luci tells herself that she doesn’t care and mindlessly goes on her phone. 

An hour had gone by when Luci huffed, mentally saying that she does give a shit and goes to find Harry. 

How long could one drink take anyways? Definitely not an hour, Luci thought. She searched the rooftop for the two, only to hope that Harry was looking for her too. After ten minutes of looking around the rooftop, passing her cast mates who were asking her to take a shot with them—she took another one, adding more alcohol into her body—she couldn’t find Harry. She started to think the worst; he could’ve possibly taken Daisy home, or Daisy could have taken him up to her room—either way, she didn’t like any of those options. 

For a minute, she mentally debated if she should check Daisy’s apartment, which would be better since it was warmer indoors than it was out—she was convinced it got colder once Harry left her side—but the negative side of her mind, who was taunting her like the devil on her left shoulder, told her to check if Harry was inside because she wasn’t going to like what she was going to see. 

Either way, she needed to find Harry and she didn’t want to go home without him, so she went inside the building and took the elevator down to Daisy’s floor. There were people walking in and out of her place, so it wasn’t that difficult to find which one was hers. With the same amount of people inside her apartment as there was on the rooftop, Luci made her way through the nice and luxurious apartment. She was just on the edge of tipsy; the drinks with her coworkers had gotten her there. Heading up the stairs, she passed by people who were making out, cuddling on the steps, and talking. 

Once she got to the end of the hallway, she had almost given up on her search for Harry until the door at the end of the hall opened, revealing Harry who was leaving and quietly closing the door. 

Luci stood in the middle with an expressionless face. He hadn’t seen her yet, but the way she wasn’t giving any emotion didn’t mean that she didn’t care; the thoughts in her mind were invading every inch that there was just too much to focus on. 

Harry turned around, stopping in his tracks once he faced her. 

“Hey,” he greeted softly. 

“Hi.” 

“I’m sorry for leaving-”

“Were you…” Luci referred to what was happening inside the room as she couldn’t finish her sentence because the thought and the words simply disgusted her. 

“N-No.”

“Why do you seem unsure?” She was testing him; she heard the hesitancy in his voice, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell the truth. 

A new attitude rose him. “Why do you care?” His voice was a tad bit harsher, but he was a little confused on why she was questioning his actions. 

She inhaled and exhaled deeply, crossing her arms, avoiding his question. “I’m going home. Are you coming with or…?” Harry bit the inside of his cheek, remembering that she hadn’t answered his question, so he’ll ask again later. He nodded, and Luci turned around; he followed. 

The entire ride on the subway and walking towards their apartment building was quiet. They didn’t even sit next to each other like they always did; just across one another, avoiding eye contact.

It was when they were both in front and unlocking their doors was when Harry spoke up. 

“Luci.” She stopped her movements, turning around slowly as did he. This time, she looked at him so deeply in the eyes that it was physically difficult for her to take her eyes off him. “Why were you mad at me before we left?” 

On the ride back home, Harry thought about the events at the party. He’d never seen Luci so annoyed at him before, so it got him thinking a lot about what she felt for him. She was jealous, anyone could see that, and he wanted her to say it out loud why she was jealous because he could name a few reasons. 

“Did you have a good time with Daisy?” 

Harry breathed out a chuckle. “You’re jealous,��� he stated immediately. 

“Answer my question-”

“Then answer mine.” 

The tension was so thick that with just one small poke of a needle, it would collapse and break. They’d never had this type of conversation before, where the tension was rising and the room felt warm; they were always playful and laughing with each other that neither of them thought they were capable of having this certain type of energy with one another. 

“I was mad because you left me alone at the party…with Daisy of all people,” she said honestly, leaving a few things out. 

“Is that all?” He raised his brows, crossing his arms. 

Luci shook her head. “That’s not how it works, Styles. I answer yours, you answer mine.” 

A smug grin landed on Harry’s face. “Did I have a good time with Daisy?” He repeated her question. “To be honest with you, no. She was pretty drunk, so I took her to her bedroom—that’s why I was in there, She was…nice.” Luci sensed a ‘but’ trailing. “She even asked me if I’d wanna go out some time.”

“What’d you say?” 

He tsked. “Not how it works, Suki.” Luci rolled her eyes, letting out a soft huff. “Hey, they’re your rules.” He chuckled. “Now, answer this: why were you jealous?” 

There was a surge of confidence that Harry’s never felt before; maybe it was because he knew things Luci didn’t know herself, but watching her unfold those realizations was definitely feeding his ego. 

Luci sighed deeply before she started. “Knowing that Daisy could possibly get anyone she wanted was a bit of an insecurity of mine when we were on our way to the party. That was because I knew she’d want you. I mean…look at you, you’re literally so gorgeous.” Harry blushed. “And I knew that it was inevitable that she would ask you to hang out; I was just surprised when you said yes.” 

He nodded. “I rejected her when she asked if I wanted to go out.” A bit of weight lifted from Luci’s shoulders, but not completely as there was still something heavy she’s been wanting to say. “Why’d you hope I’d say no? Besides the obvious that she’s mean and rude to you.” 

Alright, time to fess up, Luci. 

Luci inhaled deeply, hoping her confession wouldn’t have him running for the hills. “Because why would you go out with her when you could go out with me? Like, on a date…” Her anxiety was up to her chin as she locked her hands behind her back, preventing them from shaking any more than they already were. 

That one simple question had answered all of the other questions swirling in his mind; not the ones that were asked in the rapid fire round of questioning and answering under the thick cloud of tension over them, but the ones he asked himself a few months ago when he was doubting that she’d ever felt something for him because all this time, she had felt something, and she just asked him out. 

His heart flipped. “You wanna go on a date with me?” 

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to ask, but I didn’t know if you were interested in me or not,” she said shyly. Luci hadn’t asked someone out before—someone she was really interested in. She’d either wait until they asked her and if they didn’t, she’d move on and pretend that her feelings for them never existed. But Harry was different; seeing him with Daisy tonight had made her realize just how much she felt for him. He made her laugh, smile, and he was such a kind person. 

“I’d love to.” He suddenly answered, taking her back a little. 

She looked at him with wide eyes. “R-Really?” 

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask you too, because I’m very much interested in you, but I didn’t know you were interested, well, until tonight.” Luci giggled. 

“I made it pretty obvious that I was jealous, huh?” 

“A tad bit, but it’s sweet; and I wasn’t gonna go on a date with Daisy. She’s no Luciana Ivy Suki.” He teased, making her face heat up at the sound of her full name coming from his lips. She wanted to kiss him right then and then, wanted to taste the sweet taste that he was storing in his mouth; but she refrained from doing so, figuring that they’d wait until after their date—whenever that was—to wait to kiss him because it would very much be worth the wait. 

“Okay, I’ll, uh, plan the date then.” Her lips turned up, feeling a certain ache on her cheeks already from smiling too much. 

“Can I plan it too?” He genuinely asked. 

“I did ask you, Harry.” She raised her brows teasingly. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll plan the next date then.” He blushed. 

Luci tilted her head, smiling sweetly at his words. “The next date, huh? We haven’t even been on the first date; what makes you think there’ll be a second one.” 

“Oh, love, I think there will be.” Harry stepped closer to her, heart pounding in his chest; Luci gulped at the closeness. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her by the way he was looking at her intently. And for a moment, she was gonna give in and say ‘fuck waiting,’ and kiss his pink lips until he leaned forward and kissed her soft cheek for a brief moment. “Can’t wait for our date. Let me know what the plans are.” 

“O-Okay.” The touch of his lips on her skin had stunned her, and she wanted them back on her instantly. 

Harry opened his door, giving Luci a small smile before walking in. She started to slowly back into her open apartment, holding onto the door handle tightly. Before they closed their doors, they stared at one another, admiring each other before they said: 

“Sweet dreams, Luciana.” 

“Sweet dreams, Harry.” 

November 8, 2017 

Harry strongly knocked three times on the door right across from his own door with a bag full of takeout, another bag full of snacks, and a small brown bag that had a white box inside. 

The door swung open; Luci smiled at the person behind it. 

“Happy Birthday, love!” Harry greeted.

“Aww, Harry, thank you so much.” She was surprised that he remembered, let alone bring a celebration to her as she eyed the bags in his hands. Luci turned twenty-six today; her day was full of greetings from her cast mates, her family, and FaceTime calls from her brother and parents. She was going to make a trip back home for a day or two since she had to perform on Friday, but she was going to see her parents during Thanksgiving, so FaceTime calls had to suffice till then. 

Stepping to the side, she invited him in. He hugged her tightly, kissing the side of her head as her face heated up. They walked to the kitchen, and Harry set the bags on the countertop, unraveling the tie of the takeout. 

“First, I’m sorry for just showing up unannounced and invading your place.” He added a breathy laugh. 

“No, it’s okay! You’re welcomed any time,” she genuinely said; Harry made a mental note of that. 

“Second, this is not a date. I know you didn’t want today to be our first date, but I couldn’t just sit in my apartment and not do anything on your special day! So, here I am.” 

“Here you are.” Luci couldn’t help the warmth that rushed to her face and neck. 

“Third, I brought Chinese since it’s your favorite food. And I just so happen to know a lovely place that has the best Chinese in Brooklyn, which is my favorite place that I’ll take you to soon, but know that you’re so incredibly special because I never take anyone there.” He took the takeaway boxes out of the bag, opening them up as steam released from the boxes. 

Luci leaned against the countertop. “And what makes me so special?” Teasingly fluttering her eyes. 

Harry stopped what he was doing, looking at her intently. “You’re so sweet, funny, and incredibly kind. But most importantly, you’re grounded and humble; and you’re special to me.” His dimpled poked through his skin as he smiled, meaning every word. 

Heart flipping, stomach in knots, and tears washing over her eyes, Luci walked around the counter to hug him, head resting against his chest as she whispered a ‘thank you’ in his ear. 

For the rest of their night, they ate the authentic Chinese food while Harry told her about the restaurant he got it from, including the workers who owned the place. They also talked about work, teased, flirted, and bantered about whether fruit belonged in salads—they do not. 

Harry gave her the brown paper bag that held her gift, and she opened it with shock. He gifted her a gold circle pin that was customized with her initials engraved in the middle, and the saying ‘Shine bright, Dream even bigger,’ separated at the top and bottom. He’d noticed that she had pins on her travel backpack, and would occasionally wear one on the side of her baseball cap. It was the most thoughtful and attentive gift she’d ever received, and that earned Harry a tight hug and many thank you’s. 

After the night was coming close to eleven-thirty, Harry called it a night as he still had to wake up early tomorrow for work. Their goodbye at her door was a long one that was filled with tight and long hugs as they swayed for a moment, enjoying the warmth of each other. They promised each other that they would find a day that was open in their schedule so they could finally have their date; they even pinky swore on it—Harry kissed her pinky, vowing. 

Luci watched Harry open his door before walking inside his apartment; she blew him a kiss as he caught it, placing his palm on his cheek, making her smile. 

As they closed their doors, Luci couldn’t help but think that she just had the best birthday ever. 

November 17, 2017 

Luci’s leg nervously shook as she waited for her digital clock to hit 2:30 p.m. 

Today was Luci and Harry’s first date, and will hopefully be written down in history. She’d been anticipating this day for a while now, and she couldn’t believe the day was finally here. The few days after she asked him out, they tried settling on a date, but the two weeks after Halloween were booked for them. 

Luci was performing most days out of the week and Harry needed to figure out his teaching plans since it was close to Thanksgiving break and winter break. But when Harry found out that he had a random Friday off, he immediately told her, and to their luck, Luci wasn’t performing that day. So, they were settled on a day, and Luci couldn’t wait to take him out. 

She told him that he was going to need to dress warm since they were going to be outside for most of the day, so he opted for light blue jeans that were a bit baggy, a white t-shirt, a black coat that had faux fur on the thick collar and cuffs; since he, assumingly, was going to be walking around a lot, he wore black old school vans. Harry looked in the mirror, ruffling his hair in his hands to get it to stick the way he wanted it to. His hands slightly shook as he was fixing his hair, and he realized he hadn’t felt this nervous in a while; it had been a while since he’d gone on a date with someone he truly liked. 

When it hit two-thirty, Harry opened his door and locked it before taking a step forward. He took a breath, shaking his nerves off; as he was just about to knock, he heard Luci shuffling around inside her apartment as her keys jingled in her hands and her boots thudded against the wood. He put his hand down, thinking it would be nice for her to just see him right when she opened the door. After a few moments, Luci felt like she had everything she needed, so she swung her door open to only find Harry standing right in front of it, hiding behind a familiar bouquet of flowers—her favorite ones from him. 

“Hello.” He smiled, dimples clearly present. Luci felt like she could cry on the spot from just being so overwhelmed with her nerves and the anticipation leading up to this day, this moment. “These are for you. Hope you never get tired of them.” Harry handed her the bouquet, and she hugged them to her chest. 

“Harry, thank you. Believe me, I would never.” The start of her cheek aches had begun, and it had been about thirty seconds into their date. But cheek aches with Harry were her favorite type of aches, so she didn’t really mind it. 

She went back inside her apartment as Harry followed her in; she put the flowers in a vase before fixing them a little, making sure none of them were drooping down on the edge of the glass vase. Placing them on her windowsill, where she usually puts the flowers Harry gifted her, she smiled gratefully at them before turning her head and smiling at Harry, extra grateful. 

“Shall we go?” He asked, and she nodded. 

Harry followed Luci down to the subway station as she got on the M train. In eleven minutes, there were four stops; the subway was quite packed with no available seats, so the two stood, holding onto the silver bar in between them with their bodies close in proximity as they stood. Harry took the chance to look down at her, simply admiring her beauty as she mindlessly looked around, not noticing his eyes lingering on her. 

When their stop was on Essex Street, they got off, transferring onto the F train towards Coney Island; and Harry suddenly knew exactly where they were going. He didn’t say anything but smile. The entirety of the ride took forty-two minutes with twenty-two stops; they were able to sit down next to each other after the first stop. 

Their bodies were close—thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. Luci took out her wired earphones—figuring they were going to be there for a while, why not listen to some music—handing Harry the left one as she put the right one in. She played Fleetwood Mac, Tame Impala, ABBA, Lorde, and Hozier—a few artists they’d bonded over—as they both swayed in their seats, making up some dance routine with their arms and shoulders. They laughed and ignored the weird looks of bystanders, who were trying to have a peaceful train ride to their destination, but Luci and Harry were too focused on each other to care. 

Once it was their stop, Luci put her headphones and phone in her purse before they got off and walked side by side one another. Harry had the urge to pull her close to his side, to hold her soft hand, but he was too shy to make a move. When they walked up the stairs to exit the station, their fingers brushed together—practically bumping into one another. Luci confidently made the move and linked their fingers together; Harry looked down and back up at her as he blushed, squeezing her hand lightly. 

“Is this okay?” She asked, looking up at him. 

“It’s perfect.” He meant it; the way her small hands fit so perfectly into his, as if he was protecting them. Holding her hand was comforting, and it surprised him at how comfortable he was to be making physical contact with her; but ever since he met Luci, he’s surprised himself quite a few times already. 

They finally reached their first date hotspot, and Harry assumed right as to where she was taking him. 

Three wide entryways painted in navy blue and orange had ‘Luna Park’ painted in orange at the top. Above the entryways were large flower-like and crescent moons that lit up during the nighttime, giving the boardwalk the most illuminating glow. The large Ferris wheel could not be missed as the carts swung and rattled back and forth. On top of the excitement of the amusement park, there were screams from people who were on the roller coasters, and the smell of fair food that they couldn’t wait to devour. 

Luci paid for their entrance admission, and Harry frowned, wanting to pay, but they both agreed that they could go half on the food, and games and rides. 

They felt like little kids who were at Disneyland, minus the famous castle and Main Street music, as they walked around the park to check it out as the wood beneath them creaked with every step while they hadn’t let go of each other’s hands. 

“Everything looks really fun,” Harry exclaimed.

“Right! Do you wanna play some games first or ride on some rides?” 

“How about we get the rides out of the way? You look very excited to go on them, and I have a feeling there’s no way you’re not going on them without me.” Harry assumed, quite accurately. 

Luci put her hand on her heart teasingly. “You know me too well.” Harry chuckled. “Okay, let’s go on some rides!” She dragged him to the admissions booth, and Harry paid for both of their passes for rides. 

They waited in line for the ‘Cyclone,’ which was the biggest rollercoaster besides the Wonder Wheel. Luci sensed Harry’s nerves as he kept looking up at the ride, and he couldn’t keep still. 

She squeezed his hand tightly. “Harry, you don’t have to go on the ride with me.” She was starting to feel concerned for him because his hands were becoming damp, which she didn’t care for, and he kept bouncing his leg everytime the line stopped moving. 

He raised his brows, and brushed away his nerves to the side but not very far. “No, no. It’s okay—I’ll be okay.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, he nodded. “I’m sure. We’re here to have some fun, not be nervous, right?” 

“Yeah. But I’ll admit, I was nervous before we left,” she said, hoping to change the subject to distract him from the fast ride above them. 

“Why’s that?” He curled his lips into his mouth. 

“This is our first date, I want it to go well,” she said honestly. It had been a while since she’d been on a real date—the last one being in college—but to be nervous for a date was a feeling she wasn’t familiar with. 

“Think it’s going quite well, don’t you think?” He gave her a toothless grin, brows raised. Luci nodded, happy that he was always reassuring her and making her feel comfortable. “Plus, I was nervous too—still am, if I’m being honest.” 

“Yeah?” 

He nodded his head as if his nerves were the most obvious thing. “Oh, yeah. I want this to go well too. But by the way we’ve been friends for months before this happened, I think we’ll be okay, Ci.” Her eyes slightly widened at the new nickname that she’d never heard; Harry instantly noticed her shock. “I-Is it okay if I call you that?” To be honest, he’s always wanted to call her some unique nickname that would only be for him. ‘Luci’ seemed to be the name everyone called her, ‘Ana’ was her brother’s name for her, so the last syllable in her name seemed to be free. 

“No one’s ever called me that.” And she thinks that’s extra special. “But yes, please call me that.” She approved, and he smiled. 

It was their turn to get onto the Cyclone, and Harry suddenly didn’t feel so nervous anymore as they were being safely strapped into their rollercoaster cart. The ride was quite high, looking over the blue water and Coney Island Beach; the view was quite gorgeous, even in the middle of a cold November day in New York. 

They screamed as the ride dropped; Luci held up one of her arms as the other held tightly on Harry’s hand as he grasped the metal bar, afraid to bravely put his arm up like his beautiful date. 

When the ride was finished, they had a rush of exhilaration, wanting to go on the other rides. So, they did; they laughed, screamed, and were the most carefree people they’d ever been in their entire lives because they brought it out of each other. 

After they filled their rollercoaster crave, they ate and talked. Individually, they were both worried about this part of the date where they had to talk because they’d been hanging out for so many months and getting to know each other that they thought coming up with conversation topics were going to be difficult. But it was natural for them; they didn’t put any pressure on themselves to speak every single minute of the date. Instead, they relished in the comfortable silence they seemed to form, not minding it one bit. 

The sky had turned into a cotton candy pink from a bright blue quite quickly. Luci wanted to watch the sunset, but was a bit sad that they hadn’t played the majority of the games; but Harry told her it was okay, and they would come back another time when the park reopened again during the Spring. 

Hand in hand, they walked to the beach that was just across the street from Luna Park. The bright lights from the park were becoming distant as they continued to walk further away from it. Since it was mid November, there weren’t that many people out because of the cold temperature—just the few people who were passing by along with others who decided to watch the sunset as well. 

“Tell me about your last relationship?” Luci suddenly asked; Harry looked at her amusingly. 

“Like now? In the middle of our date?” He teased, making her laugh. 

“I mean, if you want to. I was just curious.” 

Harry thought for a moment. “Hmm. My last serious relationship was over a year ago. We broke up right before I started teaching at the middle school.” 

“What happened?” She asked softly, not wanting to pry, but she was also curious. 

“We weren’t good for each other anymore. I guess life happened, and we turned into people we weren’t proud of. We grew apart; she was more in love with her career than she was in love with me. Couldn’t say I was the best boyfriend either,” he explained, not getting into too much detail. But he’d neglected her without even realizing it, causing his ex to occupy herself with work. “So, we broke up. And it felt like it was a sign from the universe that was holding me back from venturing out because I immediately got a job at the school when I had been putting off finding a proper teaching job.” He breathed out a chuckle, remembering the memory.

He’ll admit, his last relationship had hurt him quite a lot. He’d never felt such pain before, and it had made him quiet and reserved. But how it ended made him not seek out to find a relationship. For a while, he didn’t like the idea of love because it had only hurt you. But then he met Luci, and at first, he was hesitant to even be her friend because just at first glance, he was ruined, and he didn’t want to go through that process again; but here they are now. And maybe, he’ll tell her this, but for now, he doesn’t want to scare her off. 

“Do you still talk to her?” 

“Nope. Last I heard of her, she was engaged to this woman she met a few weeks after our breakup, but I have no clue if they’re still together.” He shrugged his shoulders. “What about you?” 

“My last relationship?” Harry nodded. “To be honest, I’ve never been in a serious one…like ever.” 

He raised his brows in shock. “Really?” 

“Yeah. The furthest I’ve gone that was close to a relationship was a friends-with-benefits towards the end of college, which didn’t end well.” Harry sensed her mood change a bit, so he didn’t pry on asking what happened in the past. The bad memories had filled her mind, making her frown, but she pushed those thoughts away, not wanting to think about them at the moment because the timing is unbelievable. “That’s that; I don't have any exciting or tea-spilling relationship stories.” 

For a moment, she didn’t want to jinx her luck, but she imagined what it would be like to be in a relationship with Harry—despite it only being their first date. Her mind took her to a fantasy that was so special and sweet because that was how she pictured what it would be like to be with him. 

They sat in silence as the sound of the waves crashing and the seagulls above them took over their hearing. It was nice and refreshing to sit side by side, taking in the beautiful scenery that the world provided. Sunsets had always made Luci feel a vast amount of gratitude towards the world and the people around her; the opportunities, the things that she got to see—they all wouldn’t have happened if the sun didn't go down, promising a new tomorrow. 

Suddenly, Harry stood up, brushing the sand that had gotten on his jeans. He reached out to Luci, who was still sitting down and looking up at him. 

“C’mon. Let’s walk,” he suggested. She grabbed his hand as he helped her up, and she patted away the soft sand that had stuck to her black jeans. 

They held hands as they walked the shore of Coney Island Beach, walking towards where the sun was departing from the world. Once the sky had turned into a purple and orange blended masterpiece, Harry stopped walking, facing Luci as he took a deep breath. 

“I’m trying…really hard to hold back.” He held her cold hands in his, lightly pushing and pulling her towards him. He’d been thinking about it for the entirety of their date, and he just wanted to pull her in and kiss her whenever.

Luci shook her head softly as she stopped swaying; her eyes flickered towards his mouth, glad she wasn’t the only one thinking the same thing. She dreamed of this—had been wanting to press her lips against his for quite some time 

“Don’t hold back. Please, don’t hold back.” Her tone and eyes were pleading for him to not refrain himself from the most magical feeling. Luci let go of his hands, wrapping them around his waist as if she was giving him permission to kiss her. 

He placed his hands on her shoulders, gently rubbing down to her elbows before he trailed them back up and to the sides of her neck and jaw. Placing a soft kiss to her forehead before placing his on Luci’s, he inhaled deeply, taking in the saltiness of the ocean next to them and the sweetness of her skin. 

Luci fluttered her eyes closed, and Harry took that opportunity to connect his lips with hers. They molded their lips together as if it were one, tasting one another for the first time. The feeling of their passionate kiss felt like the ocean had synchronized together, forming the most beautiful and largest wave for the most dedicated surfer; and when it crashed, it was powerful, breathtaking, and strong—like no other wave could top this one, no one could top this one of a kind kiss. 

Harry smiled into the kiss, making Luci smile and giggle as well. Her stomach fluttered, hugging him tighter to her as his thumbs gently caressed her soft skin. Nothing could top this feeling. 

Pulling back, Harry breathed out a giddy chuckle before placing a few more pecks on her lips as if he was dreaming the first time. Luci opened her eyes as did he; she looked into his and found an immense amount of adoration within him. 

“I like you…a lot.” 

She leaned her forehead against his chest, cheekily smiling and restricting herself from squealing before she looked back up at him. “I like you too, Harry.” 

Harry flashed her his smile, something that he couldn’t wipe off his face, not like he tried. Nowadays, he was smiling a lot more, and he was one hundred percent sure Luci was the cause of it. 

Kissing her forehead, Harry hugged her to his chest as they watched the sun go down. With her face pressed against his chest, she heard the erratic heartbeat that was pounded heavily; and in that moment, she knew exactly how that felt—to feel so much for one person that your heart could fall out—and she only hoped he could feel hers because it was pounding just the same. 

As they held each other tightly, they both knew that this was going to be something special. 

And they were all in for the ride.

an exciting chapter! come talk to me about your thoughts, feelings, favorite moments and scenes! thank you for reading <3 next chapter will be up next saturday!

[everydayescapeartist]

JB Fic Exchange Recs - AU Oneshots

Well, I’ve gotten through about half of the @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange fics at this point, which is both not nearly enough for my liking and also pretty impressive for me, lol. I wanted to get some recs out ahead of the reveal because the wealth of talent in this fandom should be celebrated and shouted from every rooftop...and here we are down to the wire.  Haha!  Obviously, there are SO many more awesome fics available, so take this as just a lovely sampling.  Thank you dear authors for sharing your talents with us all!

Bug Juice: Jaime and Brienne's Summer at Camp - THIS IS MY GIFT FIC!  READ IT NOW!  Okay, even if this wasn't my gift fic, I would absolutely love this fun romp of a fic.  My prompt was basically summer camp with JB flair and my author took that to such a level of creativity and snark, it was just beyond perfect!  This one is in Myrcella's POV...I didn't even know I needed this, but I really did!  She's watching the season finale of a reality tv show that's set at summer camp.  Everyone is riveted by Jaime and Brienne's will-they-won't-they, enemies-to-lovers subplot, Myrcella included, even though she does have a bit of insider knowledge naturally.  I love the way this is written like reality show segments, with Myrcella's brilliant reactions/commentary/texting of her uncle from her couch.  There are commercial breaks that will crack you up.  A very serious discussion about Capture the Flag is had.  The GoT show digs are fantastic.  Really, this is the fic you need to read if you like smiling for long periods of time and laughing potentially so hard you spew your drink.  Oh, and also if you enjoy a good ole reality show HEA.  Excerpt 1: “When Daenerys took over as Camp Director mid-session, I was worried,” Jaime says to the camera, running his good hand through his hair. “I have a complicated history with her father and she doesn’t trust me. The young Starks don’t exactly either, but Brienne has fought for me. She insisted that I am good at my job—good with the kids. She said that I am a good man.” Jaime’s eye twitches just a touch as he stares straight ahead, his face otherwise a mask of calculated neutrality. Myrcella picks up her phone, about to text her uncle to make fun of how sappy he is when the scene switches to Brienne. Excerpt 2: Brienne takes a long sip, eyeing Jaime skeptically over the rim as she lowers her cup. OMG, when are they going to make out? Just kiss him! Ugh, they better kiss or I’m going to lose my damned mind. “You keep it warm enough in here,” he complains with a sigh, brushing past Brienne, who slowly sets her cup down and turns to him. She wipes her wide palms on her shorts and watches his back as he struggles to shed his hooded sweatshirt. Excerpt 3:

“Nooooo!” Myrcella screams and falls off the couch. She lands on the ground with a thud. She scrambles to untangle herself from her blanket and clamour back up onto the couch to grab her phone. She sends Jaime a shouty text.

Score - Jaime, Brienne, and bar trivia!  Also, face-sitting goodness...what's not to love?!

Excerpt: “And because I was right and you were wrong, I demand you two go on a date.”

“Excuse me,” Brienne squeaked. Was Tyrion trying to humiliate her? How could he suggest something so absurd without a cruel intention?

To Jaime’s credit, he had the decency to look mildly embarrassed. He even blushed. “Stop it, Tyrion,” he said, annoyed.

“I’m serious,” his brother replied. “You two have been flirting all night. Do something about it or this trivia arrangement will not work out in the long run.” Privilege - Jaime coming up with ridiculous lawsuits so he can keep spending time with his lawyer, Brienne (and a couple not-so-ridiculous ones too).  This one is hilarious and clever and also very sweet.  Do yourself a favor and read it!

Excerpt: “Jaime. At this point, I have known you for eighteen months—”

As their drinks appeared, he tapped his mochaccino against her tea. “Cheers!”

“—we have never not been in court! Seven Hells, Jaime, last month you had me sue Stoneheart Press because you didn’t like the representation of Goldenhand the Just in their line of historical fiction novels.”

He took a sip of his coffee. Anyone else would look ridiculous drinking what was essentially a dessert in a three-piece suit. But not Jaime. Jaime just…looked good. “And you won all those cases, Tarth. You’re good. Occasionally graceless while dealing with opposing counsel, but good all the same.

I hope our paths will croissant again - the way to my heart is baked goods...no, really, my hubby's a good and generous baker.  So, any story where Jaime has baking skills is going to appeal to me.  That said, this one is sweet and funny and has some pining and dare I say it was delicious?  Go enjoy it!

Excerpt 1: “She didn’t hire me,” Jaime says. “She’s holding me hostage, actually.”

  She stares at him for a moment, and then realizes he’s joking, and he laughs uproariously at the look on her face. 

“I’m good at my job. Why’d she hire you? ” 

Excerpt 2:

When Jaime comes back to work, he teases her again, though lightly, and she assures herself that whatever she felt in his apartment that evening is something that he can’t possibly reciprocate and nothing is ever going to come of it, so they can just be coworkers and it will be fine. She scrubs the kitchen countertop very aggressively when he comes to help her with a batch of coconut cake and hopes he doesn’t see her blushing. Thankfully, he then spills coconut flakes all over the kitchen floor and she has to get the broom and by the time she comes back her heartbeat has slowed down properly. She tells herself she’s being very, very stupid. The stupidest, really. Absolutely top tier stupidity. 

On Paper - Addam is wingman extraordinaire, guiding is best friend through some unintentional sandwich wrapper flirting.  

Excerpt:

He knew better than to bring a date to Tarth’s. It was a surefire way to ruin a good thing in case of nasty break up.

Bringing his best friend along should have been safer. Less risky.

It would have been if his best friend wasn’t Jaime Lannister, that’s for damn sure.

Meet Me Cute - J & B are bodyguards to Sansa and Margaery and are forced to be around each other following their charges’ meet cute and all that follows.  This is told through multiple POVs and is so fun!

Excerpt:

“Margaery, can you tell Jaime to stop using ‘our’ when referring to me,” Brienne replied, opting not to engage with him directly.

Margaery sighed and turned towards her girlfriend’s bodyguard. “Jaime… why does Brienne hate your guts?”

“Not what I said.”

Jaime shrugged, “Don’t know.”

“Don’t know?” Brienne exclaimed, snapping her head up to glare at him. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t have a clue,” Sansa chimed in. “And Jaime has told me a lot about you.”

“You shush,” Jaime said. Sansa simply laughed.

vellichor - This mesmerizing story of a world-renowned violinist and a used-bookstore owner is told via before & after segments that reveal the development of the characters and of this beautiful relationship.

Excerpt:

So he does not let himself falter as he surveys the audience, sketching out a half-bow before lifting the violin and settling it against his shoulder. His bow is still loose in his right hand, and it trembles when he goes to raise it, the scars protesting a motion he has done a million times.

Those watching will see his hesitation as part of the show, the spectacle—a prolonging of his grand return is what the articles will say tomorrow morning. They will not see the terror that jolts through his body, the fingers of his left hand pressing harder against the strings. They will not see his eyes wandering over to a box on the left side of the hall, the box where a few people he has carefully chosen sit, leaning forward along with the rest.

They will not see how he searches for a tall woman sitting among them, nor will they see the ache that takes hold of his heart when the spotlight blinds him and he is unable to push through the curtain of brilliance to see if she is there.