#if anyone feels the wish to offer an opinion id be more than happy to hear it!

[arsenicflame]

its staring at two incredibly similar laptop and not making a decision hours

[thebrochtuarachs]

Something in the Rain - “A Month Apart, Part 2”

A/N: Hi everyone, sorry this chapter came a little bit later than I intended but here it is. I've had some family things I need to take care of so in order to rest, the writing got put on hold. But do know that this story is on my mind and I hope you enjoy this update :) Stay safe and as always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

A modern day meet cute instance between Jamie and Claire.

AO3  / C1: A Day In June / C2: Definitely, Maybe / C3: So We Meet Again / C4: Friday Lunch / C5: Finding Solid Ground / C6: Situations / C7: Interruptions / C8: A Month Apart, Part 1

XXXXX

The call was scheduled beginning Claire’s lunch and Jamie’s dinner. They opted for this time since Claire’s schedule was clear for the rest of the afternoon and Jamie was happy to stay up late for this. Her supposed agenda that day was to get some research and paperwork done but after what happened yesterday, she knew they needed to have a conversation.

Gathering her laptop, lunch and paperwork, she settled on her desk and waited for Jamie’s call. And right on time, his caller ID pops up in her laptop and she accepts.

“Hi, Claire.” Jamie greeted from the other line. Just by the way he addressed her so formally immediately told Claire just how nervous he was.

“Hi, Jamie.” she chimed back. Hoping to light the mood, she decided to take the lead in the conversation. “What time did you get home?”

“Erm, got home around 6:30, 7:00PM. Freshened up a bit and for food - well,” he held up the take out box from the table to show to Claire. “Thanks for these” It was a box of their favorite comfort food and Jamie could not feel any much more relief. “How about you, what’s for lunch?”

“Oh, it’s sub day today here at the hospital. So got the biggest one I could order to last me the day.”

“Any food over here in Scotland ye miss?”

“Honestly, the chicken! I’ve tried some here but nothing tops Mrs. Kim’s” As Claire shared that sentiment, Jamie took one wing on his mouth, prompting Claire to roll her eyes. “Right, rub it in, will you”

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat ye to some once yer back.”

“I’ll record that raincheck”  After a short laugh, the line went silent. They both knew it was time to address the elephant in the room.

“Claire, I want to let ye know what happened yesterday.” Jamie began. Claire was silent, a hesitation etched on her face.

“Are you sure? You don’t really have to -” Claire replied, hesitation etched on her face. The past three months of Jamie and Claire dating has been kept much in the down low with none of the tabloids catching drift of one of Scotland’s most eligible with the pediatric doc. It was unusual but they accepted that gift of privacy. It allowed for them to get to know each other freely and without much pressure so far.

But now, things have slightly changed with Jamie back in the spotlight, worse, linked to another woman. With all the things they’ve discussed so far, these - their past, the media - were not one of them yet. With that, it’s not that Claire didn’t want to hear Jamie’s story - it’s that she didn’t want him to feel forced to share something he or they aren’t ready to talk about yet.

“Just...please” he pleaded.

Claire took a swig of her coffee and nodded.

-

Flashback

Jamie was nearing his house when his father suddenly called. Clicking the screen on his dashboard, he answered his call.

“Yes, Da?”

“Hi lad, where are ye?” Brian Fraser spoke from the other line.

“I’m near home now. Why?”

“I just got off the phone with Lord Dunsany and he’s inviting the family for dinner.”

“Where will it be?”

“At the Number One”

“Alright, I’ll be there in 20, see you and ma, I hope!”

Jamie sighed but putting his family first overweighed whatever he was thinking about.

He honestly didn't like the Dunsany's that much. There was an air to them that didn't sit well with him but he shrugs them off as 1.) They are long time family friends, and more importantly, 2.) long time business partners.

Both their families have benefited from a decades-long relationship that going to unexpected dinners like this is something he just has to do once in a while. He turns his car to the next corner and heads to the restaurant.

Arriving, he hands his car to the valet and enters the restaurant to find their table. He should not have been surprised but seated on their table was his mam and da, the elder Dunsany’s and their eldest daughter, Geneva.

Again, after knowing each other for a long time, Jamie isn’t and wasn’t blind to Geneva’s attempts to flirt and get him. He was able to avoid it for so long as he’s always been respectfully direct with declining her advances. But as they grow older, the more persistent not only Geneva, but little by little, their entire family is joining in this cause to get them together.

Jamie took a deep breath and prepared himself for whatever was to come. He sat down and immediately took note of the other people he wished were there. “Hi Mam, Da” he greeted his parents with a kiss on the cheek for his mother. He proceeded to his seat, acknowledging their guests. “Lord, Lady Dunsany, Geneva” he bowed to them and they returned his greeting. “Is Gideon and Isobel not joining us?

“They had other things to do” Geneva quickly replied, leaving it at that.

The night proceeded as usual, business talk over dinner. The Dunsanys are looking to expand their real estate business to the Americas and want to get the Frasers opinion on their dealings. On the topic at hand, the dinner was quite enjoyable as it was a conversation Jamie was happy to chime in.

Geneva, to his few observations, was relatively quiet for some reason. Maybe because she didn’t understand it as much since she  wasn’t as involved in the family business unlike his siblings, opting to work as a brand ambassador or influencer through her big social media following.

But it didn’t feel like that to Jamie. It seemed like she was waiting for something to happen or come up. She kept looking at her father urging him to do something but he discreetly pacified her everytime she got impatient.

After a few more minutes, Jamie’s hunch would prove right.

“So, in addition to the planned expansion, Geneva here has finally accepted our offer to join the business and she’ll be heading to the U.S. to study and eventually, train and oversee the project on behalf of us.” Lord Dunsany shared. The announcement came as a shock to the Frasers though they didn’t let it show. They offered their congratulations to Geneva which she graciously received.

“Jamie, lad - “ It was Lady Dunsany’s turn to speak. “We’ve heard in the past from your parents that you’ve been planning to take further studies as well. Why not accompany Geneva and study overseas together?”

“Your family also has some business in America. You can continue to work as well from there if you wish be. Plus, it’ll give you time to maybe get to know our little girl better.”

So, there it was. Lady Dunsany winked at his direction as she and Lord Dunsany tag-teamed to put out this request. Geneva, for her part, nodded furiously and was shameless at showing her agreement to their proposal. Her eyes gleamed with hope as if it was already a done deal.

Jamie was dumbfounded on their very bold request. He looked at his parents for help but they seem to be at a loss of words as well.

“I, uhm, - “ Jamie braced himself, unsure what the consequences of this be. “Thank ye of thinking of me but I have to respectfully decline the offer.”

“Do ye not want to study anymore? You don’t have to decide right now about this, please take your time to consider. We’re not in a rush anyway.” Lord Dunsany replied, trying to control the conversation once again. However, his last statement sent death glares down his direction from his daughter.

“No, it is still in my plans.” was Jamie’s plain answer. The table was silent for a good 10 seconds when the implication of his response sunk in.

“Are you saying it’s me you don’t want to be with?” Geneva’s tone was calm and angry, her resolve was slowly dissipating, raising everyone alert on the table.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s more of me...not wanting to leave someone behind.”

Geneva had a confused look while all four parents’ interest piqued at this new information. Jamie closed his eyes to muster the courage to get through the next minutes. He turned to his parents, addressing them directly, while being mindful of their guests.

“This is not how I imagined telling ye guys this, and of course to you Lord and Lady Dunsany, Geneva” he acknowledged them one by one before focusing on his parents again. “But I’ve started seeing someone and it’s fairly new...”

“That is ridiculous! You haven’t been seen with anyone in ages! I mean I would know if you are, our social circles are not that wide…” Geneva started reasoning to herself. “Unless… she’s not?”

Jamie didn’t react or say anything that would give Geneva or the Dunsany’s any more ideas they can prod on.

Geneva quickly fetched her phone and nibbled with it. She turned to the guests and excused herself. “I’m sorry everyone but I have to leave. Jamie, walk me to the car?”

Jamie nodded and stood up. He may have dropped a ball on her but he’s still a gentleman.

On the way out of the restaurant, he can hear more interrogation from Geneva in his periphery. “Who is she? Do I know her? Is she from here? Is she even real?”

It was one fast question after the other and Jamie didn’t bat an eye but rather, lead her by the arm to get her going a little bit faster. Once they were out, he didn’t notice anyone except her car and driver. He escorted her in and bid her simple goodbye.The last thing he heard Geneva say was it wasn’t over and that they’re going to have another talk on this.

When he got back to the table, the foursome was on to dessert, the earlier conversation seemingly forgotten and passed. When dinner was over, they went their separate ways.

Jamie walked his parents to their car when Brian made a joke to break the ice. “What a night, huh?” Ellen giggled which made their son comfortable speaking with them.

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to make it awkward but I couldn’t find a way to lie about it or give them false hope.” Jamie explained and Brian and Ellen were happy to give him some slack as he knew it was the right thing to do.

“I know, son. But what we are more surprised to hear is about your new friend.” Ellen pried and the smile that Jamie flashed just told them this was different. “What’s her name?”

“Her name is Claire” Jamie shared.

“And?”

Jamie jokingly shrugged. “She’s a doctor and we met around 3 months ago.”

“3 months and we haven’t heard of her?”

“Well, in my defense, Angus and Rupert have met her. I assumed they would babble it straight to ye.”

Brian and Ellen was just shaking their head. “Well, we need to remedy that, lad. If yer ready or such, we’d love to meet her.”

-

“So that’s what happened last night. As for the picture, I’m guessing there’s a pap I did not see outside the restaurant and - my parents want to meet ye.“ Jamie said in conclusion. “I mean there’s no pressure really but I wanted to let ye know.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.” Claire took a bite of her sandwich and sip of water. “So, how are you in all this?”

“What?” that was the last question Jamie thought Claire would ask. “How am I?”

“Yeah, I mean what are you feeling?” she looked genuinely concerned and it baffled him.

“Is this some sort of reverse psychology thing cause I know you have questions Claire and I’m more than happy to answer them”

Claire smiled briefly and raised a hand to settle him. “I know you are and I do have them. And this is not some psychology thing too” she laughed at that. “But before anything else, I want to know how you are.”

“I - “ Jamie let out a breath and released a tension he didn’t know he was holding in. He wants to be open to Claire but he wasn’t sure just how much yet. Their growth has been slow, gradual, and intentional, and the pace was working well for the both of them. But this situation did not fit that criteria.

“It’s okay” Claire assured him, breaking his thoughts and easing his hesitation.

Jamie nodded and began. “With Geneva and the photo, I’m frustrated. I hope you know that this part of my life is not something I wanted to hide from you, Geneva especially. It’s just not something I thought about us talking about yet. With the media, maybe I was buying us some time before they got a whip of this, of us, when this needs to be public, and of course, I need to know how you feel about that, but then again, conversations for a later time. As for my parents, a little anxious but more intrigued on how you feel about it.” He was out of breath after explaining that it was his turn to take a sip of water.

“Jamie” Claire called and Jamie leaned on his screen closer. “I honestly don’t know what exactly to feel about Geneva at the moment. I get it, you have a long history and you might feel it doesn’t but it amounts to a little something. Was I surprised? Definitely. Jealous, to be honest, surprisingly not. But I would love it if you could tell me more about this and your family when I get back.”

“I’ll tell ye everything, Claire” Jamie affirmed.

“Doesn’t have to be everything at once” Claire joked and thankfully, Jamie laughed. “As for meeting your parents…”

“You don’t have to decide on that now, Claire.”

“I know. No pressure . But...” Claire smiled. “...if you feel like the time is right, let me know.”

Jamie felt relief as he flashed a breathless smile, looked up and wiped his face with his hands. Claire, on her end, put her elbow up on the table, leaned her head on her hand, and just observed him.

“Happy?” she asked.

“Very” Jamie replied. “I canna wait till you’re back, Sassenach.”

“I know, me too. Just one more week. Now,” Claire shuffled some papers around. “I do need to get back to work and you need to go to sleep”

“Aaah” Jamie pouted and looked at his watch, it was almost 10PM. “I can stay a little bit more, keep ye company.”

“Fine, but don’t blame me if you come in late to work tomorrow.”

“Eh, can’t promise that.” Jamie jokingly shrugged. “So, how’s your day so far?”

And just like that, after an uncertain overnight, everything was back to its good place again.  

[syalmazhafira17]

Ever Since New York

A/N: Hello! This is my first HS fanfiction for the Playlist Fic Challenge hosted by @harrystylescherry. I didn’t specified any Harry era, you could imagine any Harry era you want to! I think this is also a reader insert fanfic, but well, hopefully it does. The pronoun I use here is she/her. I know this is not the real meaning of the song, but the actual meaning of the song triggered me myself, I didn't like to write about it, I'm sorry. If there’s any mistakes, please let me know because English wasn’t my first language. And if you’d like to give me reviews or talk to me, you could absolutely do it! Happy reading! XOXO, Syalma

Word Count: 5.1k

TW: car accident

“I’ve been praying ever since New York” – Ever Since New York

Things started in a place. And for Harry, it was New York.

New York City might not be the most romantic city in general public, but for the Harry Edward Styles, the city is a gift for him. The sweetest memory started here, in the city. When every now and then the city was always busy, but he found comfort in the middle of it. Something he previously never thought to find about in this city.

///

He was just shuffling through the crowd in Times Square. It was at night in the busy hour. He was wrapped in a thick jacket and sunglasses, and everything was so packed, even people, and anyone barely notices him. Which he was thankful about, because it was already a tiring day for him in the studio. It’s already late in his opinion and all he wants is jump on his bed right away. Or maybe a cuddle, even, only if he has someone to cuddle.

The thought stuck in his head, and that night, God given him what he wishes quietly. He bumped into a girl in the Metro. The girl turned around, rising her eyebrow in confusion. When she saw him, she started to freak out. Her head already in a negative view. She step aside a little, giving a space between him and her. He wanted to mumble an apology, before realizing the girl already stepping away from him.

She looks like she’s a college student, he thought. And before he knew it, she snapped her eyes at him alarmingly. He knew she can’t see his eyes staring at her like a lost puppy found its owner, but it surely already makes way to her instinct.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and turned away, locking his eyes at the ceiling of the Metro track.

He didn’t know, that ever since that day, she will be stuck in his daydreams, and out of the blue, making way to his songs and writings.

Ever since the metro, she’s all he thinks about.

///

Their faith tied together again. It’s lunch time and they both met again in the restaurant.

She was looking around the place to find one single unoccupied chair. Her eyes fell on two, one in front of a smoking men and one in front of the curly-headed men. She hates the smoke, and for the sake of it, she makes her way through the table.

“Hello, I’m so sorry to disturb your lunch, may I sit here by any chance?” she asked. The men turned around. He looks right back at her, with bright green eyes and hazelnut curls on top of his head. A moment of silence as Harry regains back his memory of the Metro girl he bumped into.

“I’m so sorry, if you didn’t want to. I’ll find another seat,” she brought her tray away, walking to the opposite direction from the table.

“Hey, um, I didn’t mean to. You can- you can seat here,” he nodded, chewing his lips. He has been thinking about her for some times, once he already got the girl, he messed it up by just looking at her.

“Oh— thank you so much!” she smiled brightly as she turns back to the table and set down her food tray.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, before he speaks up after a war with his gut.

But she did it first.

“I’m sorry, but you look familiar, have I met you before?” she asked.

His mind glued at her until he forget to answer it until she cleared her throat in a code to snap him back to reality.

“Eh, sorry, sorry. Yeah, we’ve met before. In the Metro, the men bumping at you at busy hour,” he scratches the back of his neck, like he always do when he was nervous.

“New York is really a city of possibility. Who knows I bumped into Harry Styles on a Metro?” she laughed. Harry’s smile makes its way back to his face. There’s something about this girl he was very fond of.

“You know…me?” he asked in disbelief.

“Of course I do. Like everyone else. I’ve been a fan,” she nodded.

“You didn’t, don’t get me wrong, look like one,” he stared at her. He wanted to hear her way of saying ‘I do’ in front of their families and kissed in front of everyone. With him.

“Well, I am. Not all fangirl looks like they are a fan, aren’t we? But yeah, I’m a fan. Dying to get a quick snap of you, but I figured you will quickly find my phone’s camera lens as soon as I snap it, considering your sixth sense of it and me sitting only separated by a table, so that might not be a good idea. And yeah, maybe I look calm outside, don’t be tricked by it. I freaked out inside,” she laughed. There’s something about the way she talks that makes him mesmerized by it. He gulped down.

“Do you want a snap?” he offers. Her eyes look back at him in shock. She slowly nodded. She offers her phone, but he already pulled out his.

He snap their picture quickly before he sends it.

“Do you have an Apple product phone? So, it will airdrop?” he asked.

“Eh, no, I have an Android, but I have my iPad with me. Give me a sec,” she pulled out a device from her backpack. She turned it on and Harry sends the picture to it. He glances at the name of her device. y/n’s iPad. y/n. A name he will remembers.

Looking at him glancing at the name of her iPad, she suddenly realized.

“Oh yeah, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m y/n,” she offered her hand.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Harry,” he giggled.

“Hi Harry,” she said, in a soft tone, that makes him wanted to listen to it for the rest of his life. They both laughed and continued their food.

Ever since the restaurant, he wonders if their faith will collide once again.

///

“Hello, um, no, that’s…probably not a good tone, you have to use the perfect charming tone. Not too low, not too high, not too fast, not too slow. Hey. That’s too informal,” he chippers in front of his bathroom’s mirror.

He didn’t know how much luck he could get right now. He got her phone number, for some weird connection only God knows exist. She was one of his mates’ old friend. Her contact was buried beneath his’ phone for ages and he managed to pull that out of his contact and have the courage to save the number in his phone and gave the girl he met by coincidence a call in one fine Saturday night. And managed to croak out a question in the middle of his nervous state on that simple call.

And fast forward a week, here he is standing in front of the mirror, practicing his line over and over while his nervousness ripping him off little by little. He doesn’t know how he have this whole luck of her.

His phone suddenly rang, snapping him out of his thought and sprinting to his phone as quick as possible. He pulls up the green button after glancing at the caller’s ID.

“Hey, Harry,” she greeted. Her voice ran down his spine and gave him a comfort he never felt before with anyone else.

“Hello,” he said. A dead silence for a moment before she continued speaking.

“Um, I don’t know if I disturb you, I’m so sorry if I do, but I’ve been waiting for about 45 minutes, and I wonder if you will go on the date or cancel it? Because if you want to cancel it, then it’s okay. I’m just checking.”

Harry looking up at the clock on the wall. The clock showed him the time that felt like a slap at his face. And her soft voice asking him in concern make him regret his own feeling. He was supposed to be where she is now an hour ago, he planned on coming earlier than her to make a good impression, but now he’s late, like really late. There will be no way she’s going to forgive him nor agree to go on the second date with him.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I– I just lost track of time, I’ll be there in a sec,” he stuttered. He push his phone to his pocket, ran to his keys, and flung himself to his Range Rover and hit the road as fast as the law allowed him to sped up.

He arrived in the span of 15 minutes from her phone call, panting and sweating, as well as nervous and panicking, scared to look at her face once she pulled up to the passenger’s side of his car. She raised an eyebrow before touching his bicep softly to distract him from his thoughts.

“Harry?” she asked. “Are you alright?”

“Uh- yeah, I’m okay,” he nodded quickly.

“You look pale and sweating,” she examined his face.

“I’m great, that’s just…my natural features,” he tumbled over his words. “Shall we go?”

“It’s okay if you’re not feeling good, I could just go home,” she looks at him with a concerned face.

There will be no way he will let her let out of his grasp. He was already in the edge of not getting her by forgetting the time, he won’t let her go home alone this time.

“I’m perfectly fine, we’ll go to one of my favorite restaurant,” he stated, the thought simply giving him a new pump of confidence.

“Oh, alright, we’ll go then,” she relaxed to the seat and buckled herself. He drives through the night glow of New York with Brooklyn Bridge and Miss. Liberty watching him. Watching quietly as Harry Styles trying his best to get the girl he dreamed of by picking up the rest of the pieces left about him in her that he already broke. And this city being the quiet paparazzi recording every step of him got the love of his life.

Ever since the date, he knew he will do anything to be with her.

///

He shifted in his sleep, making himself a little more comfortable, while scooting further to her arms. She wrapped her arms around his wide form graciously, mumbling something before inhaling his scent to soothe herself to go back to sleep.

They tangled together in her bed, sheets crumpling beneath their bodies. They didn’t need it anymore; each other’s warm presence was more than enough to keep them safe and sound in the summer night.

They have been official for a couple months now, 7 months to be precise, after him, being a nervous wreck having the courage to ask her to be his and his only. He was nervous, sweat covering his palm, and his voice trembling as he asks her. He doesn’t know how he did it, but he did end up driving home with her hand in his and a thin layer of her lipstick left on his lips. And when he got back to his own place, he screamed from the balcony to the busy road beneath, doesn’t even spare a glance at pedestrians looking up at him weirdly, or the fans started to clicking their cameras up secretly, or paparazzi recording him. In his mind, the world was just him and her.

His eyes flicker open, looking up to her, who sleeps peacefully. He stays there and just watching her breathing rhythm. He loves it when she got into peace like this, with no crease between her brows or an upset face painted on her beautiful face.

“Are you going to creepy stare at me forever or tell me what time it is?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

“Both, it’s around 1 in the morning darling,” he said sweetly, kissing her shoulder.

“Great! Now tell me everything you wanted to ramble on,” she said jokingly.

He knows she was joking, but he did anyways. He spoke up.

“I want babies, to cuddle! To squish their little chubby cheeks. How cute would that be? They will have green eyes and curly hair like I do, and they’ll have tiny smile that looks like yours! And we’ll squish their tiny faces and kiss them and we’ll spoil them with so much love and—and—and—Gucci!” he giggled after the word came out. Of course, Harry’s staple, Gucci, will be on the list of his babies.

“And we’ll put them in bear onesies I saw on Pinterest the other day! And we’ll paint the walls soft yellow, and we’ll get to cuddle them in our arms at night, and they will squirm in our arms, and when they wake up hungry in the middle of the night, I’ll come to them so you’ll sleep. And I can stop my work while they were little, could almost be packed in the suitcase I brought on tour! And when they got old enough, we’ll go around the world and they’ll meet a lot of people, will see the world in real life. And then…they’ll grow up,” he ended his ramble about babies in a sad face, realizing babies could grow up too, and they will not be so little anymore.

“And then, you’ll make more,” she ended the whole story for him.

“You? Why not— oh yeah, I’m sorry,” he looked down like a sad kitten. “We never talk about this before.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. We’ll be a little family, with babies like you want, yeah? Their little faces and cheeks, want to squish and kiss them already,” she fixed her words. He looked up at her again excitedly.

“And we’ll have kittens! Cute little fur balls in the couch!” he continued on.

He continues to talk about kittens. How cute they were, how many will they have, and how he will fed them.

“I love cats lots, but not as much as I love—” his eyes widen after he realized what he just said.

“I love…?” she didn’t have a single clue what he was about to say. And he was thankful for it. “Babies?” she guesses.

“No,” he shook his head.

“So…what?” she furrowed her eyebrows. “Working in the bakery?”

“You, I love you,” he finally decided to risk it all and said the three words that have been stuck in his mouth for the past months.

“I…Harry,” she said sternly.

“Yes?” he looked up at her like a scared kitten.

“Are you sure about those words?”

“With my whole heart, darling.”

“Like sure, sure?”

He nodded quietly.

“I love you, too,” she whispers right to his ears and kissed his pink lips.

His cheek and his nose flushed red. He couldn’t believe that he just did it.

Ever since that night, he knows he wants to spend evermore with her.

///

He was in LA again. Not staying in New York. It’s the fifth time he did it, with no preparation call, but just a quick text once he arrived. Leaving her confused for a moment before processing her boyfriend’s quick news. She was already living in his New York apartment he purchased for both of them, but he was barely there. At bright days, he spent it with his guitars, music, and studios, and at night he conquers the music industry concert. At weekends, he was busy to move around the world, too busy to text his girlfriend about his plan and whereabouts.

Today, she had enough of it. She stormed out of her class with angry fingers pressing the buttons of his number. Those all because he already sent the text ‘In LA babe, don’t wait x’. But who wants to wait for a week before he came back to NY, gave her a proper talk about his plan, and if he remembered about him having a girlfriend, plan on a date afterwards?

First call, doesn’t get answered. Second call, to voicemail after a few ringing. Third call, straight up to voicemail.

She grumbled beneath her breath, cursing, before trying again. On the last ring, he finally picks up.

“Hello, babe, have you gotten my text?” he asked.

“No, you come home tonight, or I’ll leave,” she said sternly. She doesn’t want to look scary by the people she met in the hallway, but her eyes says otherwise. But she didn’t care much. She cares about the fact that her lover just left her with a short text.

“Hey? What’s wrong with you?” his voice turned from bouncy and happy to a stern confused one.

“You’re the one that needed to be asked that way,” she scolded.

“Darling, I’m not going to be in the joke right now, I have some big stuff to do,” he frowned.

“OH, your girlfriend you just left in New York wasn’t a big stuff? Okay, don’t expect me to wait a week alone in that bloody apartment,” she huffed before hanging up as quick as possible, making sure she did it as he speak up explaining his problem.

He cursed underneath his breath when the call line got cut off. Jeff, reading his face, looked over.

“You okay, Harry?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just…y/n acting up,” he mumbled.

Jeff didn’t answer, he just nodded before speaking to someone on the other end of his own phone call. While Harry tried his best to not thinking about his upset (and alone) lover back in New York, he just…failed miserably. At the time the clock strikes midnight, he gave up to his feelings and book a ticket back to New York.

He got into the plane at 3 AM, bouncy and a nervous wreck. He was scared of what might y/n does. Breaking up? Almost a bit dramatic, but doesn’t make it zero possibility. Mad at him? She does now. No need to wonder. Leave the house? She probably plan to right now. Driving at midnight and blasting sad songs in her car? Not Harry’s type, but hey, y/n is y/n. She could be doing that at this very moment. Getting drunk in a dive bar with her college friends? She was barely past drinking age, and she doesn’t like alcohol much, but everyone seeks comfort when they fight with their significant others right? Stress eating on McDonald’s drive thru or eating a tub of ice cream, crying over a random TV Show? It’s nothing bad compared to other possibilities, but he doesn’t want to know it was because of him. Because in each possibility, he imagined her crying and mad at the same time.

And when he dropped his bag at their apartment, the first view he saw wasn’t a crying y/n, an empty house, a drunk version of his girl, or a girl crying with an ice cream tub or McDonald’s packaging. Instead, she curled up into a ball in the sofa, must have been fallen asleep at some point at night, blanket messily covering her figures, and the TV playing a random bad TV Show. He went immediately soft by the sight in front of him, but he quickly remembered about his problem.

He didn’t want to wake her up and as bad as he wanted to curl up in the sofa and scooping her in his chest (because he know she won’t even think twice to push away whoever cuddle her without her knowing) so he went to the bathroom and cleaning up himself a little before moving to kitchen and made some coffee.

She woke up 30 minutes later, squinting at the light before fully aware of other people existence in the apartment. Her hazy mind translates it as a stranger, but once he dropped a pan and cursing, she knew it was Harry.

She pushed her feet against the carpet and walked towards the kitchen.

“Oh sorry, sweetheart, did I wake you?” he asked.

“Care to come home, Styles?” she didn’t even bother to say hi or answer his question.

“Love…I’m sorry,” he plead.

“No, no, that’s okay. I’m pretty fine alone here, with no company, and with my non-existence physically boyfriend,” she said sarcastically. “He was busy being a company to everyone until he forgot to be a company for his own girlfriend.”

“I wasn’t…I’m sorry, can’t you forgive me? I texted you, I let you know where I am,” he argued.

“That’s okay if you don’t,” she said before taking out her cup and filled it with water carelessly. “I’ve had enough of you anyway.”

It hits Harry harder than he thought it intended to be, so he grabbed her wrist and forced her to look at him, even with a disgusted expression.

And that night, they ended up cuddling on the couch and watching The Notebook with a huge tub of Haagen-Dazs in the middle of them. Half finished, with two scoops stuck out.

Ever since that day, he knew and promised he didn’t want to hurt her in anyway.

///

“Are you Mr. Harry…?” someone at the other end of his phone called.

“Who are you? What are you doing with her phone?” he asked aggressively. He felt sick since he woke up this morning, all he wanted was her to cuddle up against his chest.

“I’m Doctor Alex, and I’m from Brooklyn Hospital Center, are you Harry, sir?” he asked once more.

“What happened to her?” his heart sinks. He didn’t even confirm his name.

“I need you to calm down, sir,” the doctor finally gave up, assuming by himself who he was talking to was really the Harry in the girl’s emergency contact.

“What happened to my y/n?” he asked, rushing out of his bed, threw the comforter off his body.

“I’m sorry to inform you this, but you are the emergency contact in this phone. The girl, the owner of this phone, has been in an effective car crash. No relatives or friends with her during the accident,” the doctor explained briefly. “She’s in coma.”

Harry didn’t answer. His heart sinks, his soul felt like just left his body, his stomach dropped, he froze in place, he couldn’t believe the news, he didn’t want to. He wanted to wake up. Maybe this is just a bad dream, and when he woke up he still has her safely tucked in his arm, and smiling at him. And she will kiss his stubble as he stirs from sleeping, and they will stay like that for 15 minutes before the band called him and yelling from the other line about ‘discipline’ and ‘you lovebirds should’ve kept a clock to see the time’.

He hung up his phone as quick as he could and threw himself to his car.

He drove through New York City street in full speed. He doesn’t care about the laws he broke, how many tickets he will get once a police officer caught him. His mind got clouded by the doctor’s words. This time, Brooklyn Bridge and Lady Liberty watch him, not aiming for a girl’s love, but to aim a hope she will be his forever, not with a tie of marriage, but…he doesn’t even want to think about it anymore.

He parked his car messily and sprint to the front table.

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles. I’m…the girl in the car crash, I want to see her,” his mind can’t even form a perfect sentence.

“Sorry sir, who are you to her?” she asked.

“I’m her…her…boy-husband!” he almost yelled. The nurse knew he wasn’t even her fiancé, but from the panic in his voice, trembling frame, and a mess he is, she finally let him.

When he met her, she was inside a glass room, he wasn’t even get to be in the same room as her. He just watched her breathing heavily with an oxygen tank, the only thing that kept him believing she is alive is the beeping loud noise of machines stuck on her body. She looks miserable, bruises all over her body, casts on her arm, bandages, she looks so…fragile. He just wanted to scoop her up into a hug and kiss her, tell her she’s going to be okay, they’re going to have babies like they always dreamed of. They will have their first house, they will watch their babies grew up as much as he hated the fact that babies will get older one day, they will be old people in their 70s, but she will be the most beautiful girl he has ever seen in her 20s. But he can’t right now, and he felt helpless.

It has been almost 7 hours since he arrived and he doesn’t even spend a second take his eyes off of his girl. Nothing progresses much, but he knew she has to survive. So they could pursue their dreams together, just like they always talk about. At this point, all he wanted was for her to flicker her eyes open and look at him. And he will do the rest, he will pick her up whenever she wanted, he will kiss her, he will give her all the affection he has, he will give her all the love he has even until his heart bleed, he will hold her so tight so she will be always safe no matter the circumstances. He will do anything for her to just open her pretty eyes and look at him.

“If you aren’t going to eat something, you won’t be able to take care of her, um, later,” one of the nurses tap his shoulder. The crack of her end of sentence made Harry gulp down a lump in his throat. She knew her condition better than him. And he knew it, the crack on her word of ‘later’ doesn’t got missed by him. He nodded, the nurse’s words are true, she needed him to be okay.

So he took his time to go to the bathroom and wash his face, looking at the tiredness in his eyes, and he took some time to grab something from the cafeteria, a weird looking bread, looks like have been behind the glass display for ages, but he couldn’t care less. He shoves the bread to his mouth while running to get to her place.

“Sir, are you Harry?” a doctor rushing to his side. Suddenly he felt so empty. The panic in the doctor’s voice, his pale face, Harry doesn’t want to imagine what had happened to his girl.

“You might want to talk to her, she is going to be rolled to the operation room,” the doctor said.

Suddenly Harry felt weak in his knees. The bread feels like its going to threw itself out. He took masks and some weird gown the nurse handed him, and he rushed to her side. The beeping noises louder now he’s inside the room, but the only sound he could hear right now is her troubled heavy small breathing.

“Hi, darling,” he walked towards her with shaky limbs. “They- they said I could talk to you right now, I have weird feelings about it, but you are going to be fine. I- I will propose and we’ll have cute babies like we always talk about. I won’t leave your side again. We- we’ll have our happy ending.”

He kissed her cold fingers. It’s like the world were just the two of them again. No one around her. No weird beeping noise from the computer. No Harry Styles the popstar or y/n y/l/n the college girl. Suddenly they are just Harry and y/n again. Just both of them. In the room. y/n fighting for her life, and Harry, as helpless as he look like, helping her subconsciously.

“y/n, sweetheart, I don’t know if you could hear it, but I’ll be with you. I’ll be here, I’ll be by your side, you don’t have to be afraid, because your Harry will be here, honey. No matter how deep you fall, how hard the challenges, how hurt I will got, I’ll always be there for you. Your Harry will protect you, if it’s cold or hot, if it’s dark or bright, I’ll be by your side, kiss every single tears and cuts it will cause, and you don’t have to be afraid nor alone anymore. Because your Harry will be there for you. Always.”

And then he rolled out of the room. Out of Harry’s grasp, no matter how hard he tried to keep her close. She had gone to the room where her life will be on the thin border.

And Harry, with tired eyes and shaky breath, ran to the empty room outside the glass room and cried. Cried like he never did before. Cried until his tears dried. He dropped to his trembling knees.

“God, I-I know I barely talk to You. But this time…I beg You, please don’t let her taken away from me. I know she will be in no more pain, but I’m too selfish for it, I can’t live without her. I can’t function properly without her. I know I didn’t treat her the best before, but give me a second chance to take care of her. To smell her scent again, to kiss her hairline, brush her hair, give her all I could give, give her all the comfort she needed, give her all my love until my heart bleed. Just…give me one more chance, and I will treat her better,” his shaky voice somehow formed a proper sentence. His cheek wet with stained tears. His breath hitched. His chest felt heavy. He doesn’t even know who he is, when his girl still in the room. “Let me take one more chance to call her mine,” he let out a hitched scream.

After a long waiting and more tears spilled, when the clock told him it was 9 PM, she rolled out of the operating room. He jolted up. Indistinct chatter makes his head felt dizzy. But his main focus was her on the bed.

“Is she okay? What happened?” he could hear his voice yelling those to the medical workers, but he doesn’t even remember saying that.

“Sir, you need to calm down,” a voice called.

“No, no, I don’t need to calm down. I need to know if she’s okay!” he screamed.

“Sir, you have to,” the voice called again.

“Tell me what happened to her, tell me if she’s okay!” he yelled once more.

“Sir, take a deep breath and you’ll get to meet her,” the sentence made him stopped and slowly turned around. His eyes begging for explanation.

“Tell me how she is,” he whispered brokenly.

“She’s…you might want to see her, she might want you to talk to her,” the lady doesn’t even told him how she’s doing. And he knew it. He has only a few percent chance to have her wrapped back in his arms. And only God will gave him it.

The lady (soon he realized she is a nurse), lead him into a room. Not a glass room like she used to be placed, but a more private room, but it doesn’t make him feel any better because she was limp on the bed.

He walked in with shaking legs. The door closed behind him, and his knees gave up. He dropped to the cold floor of the hospital and cried for God knows how many times he had cried. His voice cracked. “Give me one more chance to love her again.”

[harrowharkboygf]

i want to see you, dressed all in white

a short catradora oneshot, set at the time of adora's future vision. requested by @nozomijoestar. read on ao3.

Catra could not believe she was wearing shoes for this. It was such a strange experience, hearing the click clack of heels coming from her feet as she walked, but alas! Such was the life of an ambassador of Brightmoon.

And, she thought privately, the life of the wife of She-Ra. Hopefully. If everything went well tonight. She subtly traced the outline of the ring in her pants pocket. The box itself would have been too big and clunky to fix in her pocket, so Glimmer had helped her out and given her a tiny leather pouch to hold it in.

“If she finds the pouch, just say it contains important ambassador information like…IDs!” Glimmer had suggested.

Catra had raised an eyebrow. “We need IDs for Princess Prom?”

“Well no, but…” It was Glimmer’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “You and Adora did miss half the planning meeting, so how would either of you know?”

Catra had smirked. “We were…busy.”

She gave her a decidedly unqueenly shove. “Of course you were, Horde Scum.” Then Glimmer pulled her into a hug. “I’m so happy for you both. Adora’s gonna say yes immediately.” Catra wasn’t worried about her saying no; she knew that Adora loved her more than anything, and they’d been talking about marriage for a while now. No, she was worried that somehow something would go wrong and it wouldn’t be perfect. Adora was as amazing as the moons and the stars—she deserved perfect.

“Catra? Catra!”

She snapped back to the present. Adora was waving her hand in front of her face, grinning. Even at age twenty-seven, she still hadn’t lost the adorable, dorky look on her face.

“Sorry, zoned out for a sec,” she said, taking Adora’s hand and jumping gracefully down from the skiff. She took a minute to admire how beautiful her girlfriend looked tonight—she looked like a queen in her own right, the tiara sparkling off her golden hair and the white dress making it all too easy for Catra to imagine her walking down a wedding aisle. Her stomach fluttered.

“Are you nervous for your second Princess Prom?” asked Adora; her tone was joking but her eyes softened in a way that made Catra feel instantly safe.

“Not with you by my side,” said Catra, pushing down her nerves and leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “Are you nervous?”

“Not with you by my side,” Adora mimicked, smiling against her lips.

If anyone was definitely nervous, it was Bow and Glimmer. This was the first formal event where they would be introduced as a married couple, and they had spent the whole skiff ride fiddling nervously with their clothes and asking to go over the schedule so often that Catra had asked Bow if he’d switched bodies with Adora.

“You two look amazing,” Adora told them for the seventh time this hour.

“Are you sure the capes don’t look stupid?” asked Glimmer. “I don’t wanna look childish.”

“What if I trip and fall on it?” Bow worried, toying with the edge of his cape.

“If you do, I will laugh and then kick all the asses of anyone else who laughed,” Catra assured him.

“And I’ll help!” said Adora gleefully, holding up her hand to be high-fived. Catra obliged her.

Glimmer and Bow both took a deep breath in sync. “Thanks, guys,” she said, a real smile spreading across her face.

Bow stuck out his hand. “Best Friend Squad!”

Everyone put their hands in the middle. “Best Friend Squad!” they cheered.

——

The former-Fright-Zone-now-renamed-the-Light-Zone looked absolutely stunning. Scorpia had really outdone herself. Unlike at Frosta’s prom, which had been decorated with gleaming ice sculptures, the ballroom was decorated with smooth, sleek black crystals reminiscent of the Black Garnet, giving the whole room a very sophisticated aura.

“Presenting Queen Glimmer and King Bow of Brightmoon!”

Bow and Glimmer did not, to their credit, trip over their capes or do anything else notably embarrassing. In fact, they were the textbook example of dignified, waving proudly to the crowd as they walked up to the dais, and then bowing low to Scorpia, who immediately jumped down from her throne to greet them.

And then it was their turn.

“Presenting Adora, Princess of Power, and Catra of Brightmoon!”

Catra offered her girlfriend her arm. It was partially an affectionate gesture and partially an effort to make sure she herself didn’t trip—she still wasn’t used to these shoes.

“Your Highness,” Catra said to Scorpia as she bowed.

“Oh, none of that ‘Highness’ crap!” Scorpia chortled, practically bouncing off her throne to envelop the two of them in a tight hug.

“All this stuff is so formal,” she whispered. “I’m so out of my depth.”

“You’re doing amazing,” Adora promised her.

The next hour or so was filled with so many boring conversations and introductions. It seemed like every diplomat and ambassador in Etheria wanted to talk to her and Adora. It was really cute when little kids came up asking for She-Ra autographs, but if Catra had to hear about the rising fish prices in Salineas one more time, she was going to be homicidal.

Despite coming as each other’s dates, Catra and Adora had to split up in order to divide and conquer all of their social obligations, a strategy that Bow and Glimmer had also adopted. That didn’t stop Catra from throwing as many longing looks at Adora from across the ballroom as physically possible.

She tried to seek shelter with Double Trouble, who would definitely not force her to ruminate on the state of “today’s youth”—a conversation that withered old advisers seemed to love—but their need to be the center of attention kept also drawing attention to Catra. This made it particularly hard to accomplish her goal of “only talking to people she wanted to talk to”. Glimmer, surrounded by a group of Mystacor sorcerers, gave her an arm squeeze in solidarity as she passed by.

Eventually she managed to escape yet another drab discussion of the pros and cons of a trade alliance between the Crimson Waste and the Kingdom of Snows under the premise of greeting Frosta. She was able to enjoy the beginning of a nice banter/advice session concerning Frosta’s love life before the princess was preoccupied with an adviser asking her opinion on intra-kingdom matters.

“I’m surprised you haven’t taken those off yet,” Adora said behind her, making her jump. She gestured down at the cursed shoes.

“I wish,” Catra grimaced, taking the cup of punch her girlfriend offered. “I was afraid someone would throw a fit.”

Adora wrapped an arm around her shoulders, which Catra leaned into gratefully. “Is it that advisor over there?” she whispered in her ear, subtly turning Catra’s head so she can see who she meant. “The one with an angry look on his face? Are you afraid of him?”

She snickered. “What, did you have to hear his monologue about decorum too?”

“He even made a comment about ‘last time’,” Adora told her, laughing under her breath. “A very pointed remark about breaking tradition.”

“Ooh, insulting She-Ra, is he? I’ll kick his ass.”

“My hero.”

Catra turned to face her fully, placing one hand on Adora’s hip. “You know it,” she murmured, leaning forward to press their lips together.

“Adora!”

Catra pulled back, groaning under her breath, as they both turned to see Perfuma waving at them. The flower princess held up her own cup and gestured at a group of stern-looking Plumerians. Adora pecked her cheek before hurrying off again.

At this point, Catra was beginning to get worried that she wouldn’t ever get the chance to be alone with Adora. She once again traced the outline of the ring pouch in her pocket, biting her lip.

Then, to her immense relief, music started playing. She grinned. It was time for the real party to start.

Adora easily found her on the dance floor. Catra leaned eagerly into her warm touch, let herself be rooted in her relaxed blue eyes. “Will you be my dance partner?” asked Adora teasingly.

Catra pretended to think it over. “Hmm, I don’t know. Are you any good at it?”

Adora winked. “Nope.”

Catra blew her a kiss, and then the dance started, everyone moving in sync. Adora kept her eyes fixed on her girlfriend, her steps steady and confident despite her previously stated lack of talent. “I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you too,” she murmured back. “Always have, always will.”

The movements of the dance pulled them closer, the tempo slowing down. Adora used this opportunity to cup her face and kiss her firmly—finally—before the pace of the music picked back up again and everyone switched partners.

The carefully-choreographed switch in the dance pushed her and Glimmer together, a move that made the both of them grin easily. Things really had changed since the last Princess Prom, Catra thought to herself.

“Do you have a specific plan?” asked Glimmer, nodding almost imperceptibly at her pocket.

Catra nodded. “I just need a way to get a moment alone with Adora.”

Glimmer winked at her. “I can do that.”

Then she was passed off to Mermista, who she hadn’t seen yet that evening. “Heard you knocked up,” said Catra in lieu of a greeting.

Mermista twirled her, a lazy smirk sliding across her face. “Yeah, just a little baby barnacle growing, nothing to see here.”

“Congrats,” Catra told her genuinely. Mermista would never be her best friend—that was reserved for Adora, and Glimmer and Bow—but she had the deepest respect for her, and they got along wonderfully.

A slight blush drifted over her cheeks. The queen had never been good at accepting compliments—one of the many things they had in common. “Bow told me,” she said, “so like, congrats to you too.”

Catra rolled her eyes, but there was no malice behind it. “What, does the entire Princess Alliance know?”

“Probably,” drawled Mermista, and then Catra spun her one last time before they parted ways.

“Catra!” Scorpia greeted her with just as much enthusiasm as before. “I heard the news! How can I help?”

As they began the waltz, Catra mulled it over. “Actually,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “I do have a request.”

——

“Greetings, Princess Prom guests!” Perfuma said in a trill, speaking into the microphone. “I hope you all enjoyed your first dance of the night! Now we will have a live performance by our beloved host, Princess Scorpia!”

The crowd cheered wildly. Scorpia stepped onto the stage, looking radiant and sure of herself under the spotlights. She tapped the microphone once to test it, before she began to hum the opening notes of a ballad.

Scorpia’s song wafted through the ballroom, filling the air. Perfuma sat behind her, strumming a huge string instrument made of wood and occasionally providing backup vocals.

Catra and Adora swayed together on the dance floor, saying nothing, just enjoying each other’s presence. Catra spun her around slowly as Scorpia crooned, occasionally pressing a light kiss to her skin as she drew her closer. Adora, in turn, just watched her, a soft look on her face.

After Scorpia finished her first song of the night, everyone cheered, clapping their hands and whistling in approval. The princess flushed a deep crimson, exchanging a delighted look with Perfuma over her shoulder. A shout of “Encore! Encore!” started up.

Catra took Adora’s hand. “Let’s sneak out for a bit,” she whispered. “Everyone’s entranced by Scorpia’s singing, so we won’t be missed.”

The gleam in Adora’s eyes was ever so familiar, a look that she hadn’t lost even as she grew older. “Lead the way,” she whispered back.

They snuck out through one of the many hallways branching out from the ballroom. The hallways were well lit and decorated similarly to the ballroom; it looked so different from the hallways they’d once scampered through as kids.

But they raced just the same, hand in hand, giggling as they chased each other. Catra mussed up Adora’s hair, cackling as her girlfriend playfully pulled her into a headlock. Their outfits were thoroughly disheveled by the time they reached the ladder, but Catra didn’t care.

“Do you recognize where we are?” she asked.

Adora touched the rail of the ladder. “Of course,” she said, returning Catra’s grin. “I’d recognize this place in my sleep, no matter how many times the walls are repainted.”

Catra kicked off her shoes, sighing with relief when the pads of her feet touched ground again. “Follow me, then.” She hoisted herself up onto the first rung of the ladder, and began to climb.

“Not fair!” shouted Adora below her. “I’m wearing a dress and you’re not!” But she heard her feet touch the ladder rungs anyway.

Catra offered Adora her hand on the top rung, which she took gratefully. The two of them stood together on the platform, in the exact spot where they’d spent so many hours as children. Catra inhaled, breathing in Adora’s sweet, familiar scent.

Adora stared out over the former Fright Zone, still wrapped around Catra. “The Light Zone is a good name,” she said finally.

Catra purred softly as she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s so much nicer now,” she marveled. “Scorpia did so well.”

Adora turned to look at her. “So did we,” she said, cupping her cheek. “We’ve rebuilt so much since the war ended seven years ago.”

Catra picked up on the double meaning of her words. “We have,” she said, pressing their foreheads together and smiling against her lips. Her heart pounded in her throat. This was the perfect moment.

Catra pulled back, just far enough to give her space to kneel. Quickly, she rehearsed her speech in her mind, She reached into her pocket and pulled the ring free from the leather pouch.

She began, “Hey, Adora—”

“Will you marry me?” blurted out Adora.

Catra’s jaw dropped. For a minute, she said nothing.

“I mean, you—you can say no,” Adora said hurriedly, clearly taking her silence as a bad sign. “I didn’t plan out an elaborate proposal or anything, I don’t even have a ring, but—”

“I have a ring!” said Catra, still shocked.

It was Adora’s turn to gape at her. “You—What?”

A grin split Catra ear to ear. “Yes, you idiot!” she exclaimed. “I was going to propose to you tonight—right now, actually! Glimmer and I have been planning this for months!”

Adora almost fell over laughing, clutching her stomach. “Wow,” she said, breathless, “we make quite a pair.”

“We do,” said Catra, throwing her arms around her neck and kissing her passionately.

“I love you,” Adora told her, her words slightly muffled against her lips.

Catra got down on one knee and held out the ring in her palm for real. “Adora,” she said, ignoring the happy tears that pricked the corner of her eyes, “will you marry me?”

Adora knelt down so they were level. “Yes,” she breathed out. “A million times, yes.”

[selenitawars]

Pressentimento

Never Be The Same - Part 7.

Pairing: Sam x Daughter!Reader, Dean x Niece!Reader, Castiel x Platonic!Reader.

Summary: To save Dean’s life, Sam changes a big part of his past, hoping that he’d only forget memories with his college girlfriend. But, not only he changes his life, he also creates a new one.

Word Count: 2332.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Yes, I’m back after over a year and a half. I know I’m a dumbass for making y’all wait for so long, but, honestly, I want this to be a fun writing, so I try not to pressure myself. Won’t make promises. Either way, always love to know your opinions. Hope  you enjoy this comeback haha!

Pressentimento masculine noun 1. act of feeling in advance, more through emotion than reason, the occurrence of a future fact; suspicion. "I have a p. that this will not work" 2. knowledge of what will happen, obtained by intuition; forecast, hunch, omen.

You still hadn't explained everything to your father nor your uncle. Cas remembered one of the episodes that occurred with you when you were younger, around ten or so. It was hard for you. Every time you tried to explain yourself, things were hard to explain. All the time, something blocked you from exposing the fear inside you, the fear of letting things out.

The way their "new" memories came to them didn't help. It was so unpredictable. Cas remembered you praying first and then, mixed memories, tiny ones, which made him assume a lot about you already; and worry as well. Dean remembered more, like the time Sam was soulless and you lived with him for months, you concluded he was remembering things by the impact they had in his life. As for Sam, well, apparently things were coming more chronologically for him, but a little late, since he also had a lot of Camila to remember.

You tried to think how to talk to them about your crisis. The big ones. It was so complicated. When it started happening, you had your godmother to help with calming down and understanding how sensible you were; but even Vanessa had to talk with the Winchesters to fully understand what made you so much stronger and sensitive. Anyway, she wouldn't help you now that she was in the list of people to whom you never existed.

Oh, and your mother...

Looking at pictures of her nowadays became an addiction. You couldn't sleep before searching a little more about her, not that you've been having much sleep or any of this helped. You wish so bad you could talk to her. And now that Sam told ya you reminded him so much of Camila, you really studied her, trying to find the resemblance.

How would you tell them there's more? More of you to worry. You wanted to wait for a time when the memories hangovers weren't so heavy on them. They were all trying to act normal, but it was obvious - you've never been at home for this long, they were never so quiet. Dean wasn't even drinking, to make sure he wouldn't be more confused.

You were lying down on your bed, trying to ease the headache. It was normal to have a day just to be tired, but after the all day just resting you still got a headache by night. Went to get a pill to make it better and when you swallow it, you realize something.

"I don't exist." You whisper to yourself.

For the first time in that day, you felt useful. Even with the headache, you got in front of the computer and started to do your thing. For some reason you got happy when you confirmed your theory.

"I was never born."

"You gotta stop thinking about that." Dean warned you.

"No, I mean... I don't exist."

The three men stared at you with confusion, you repeated.

"I don't exist."

Still nothing. The room was filled with silence while you hoped for the clicking in their minds. It never came. You sighed.

"I never existed! Never did anything!"

Sam looked at you like he was starting to worry, while holding a bowl with cereal. Just like Dean, who chewed his, probably thinking you've gone crazy.

"I don't understand why you're so excited saying it." Cas finally said.

"Isn't it obvious?" They once more, didn't react. "There are no records of me, at all. Nobody knows about me. I only left the bunker once."

"What's your point?" Dean asked.

"We should keep it that way."

"What? Why?" The brothers said together.

"Well, if nobody knows I'm here, we're in advantage. It's always good to have a secret backup, right?"

"Like... as a surprise element?" Castiel suggested, you nodded. "Y/N, you don't truly expect us to treat you like a secret weapon..."

"Hell no." Dean agreed.

"It's not like it."

"Well, I don't see your point." You father stated. "I know this seems messed up, but, we can fix it. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried, I'm thinking!" You made them quiet. "C'mon, think with me: I barely left the bunker, how could anyone know about me?"

"We know about you." Dean answered.

"But you've seen me. And your memories, are just yours, this doesn't mean the world knows about me."

"Ok, but you'll need to use an ID sometime. Or will you live forever here, inside the bunker?"

"Dean, you should know it's easier to make a fake ID look real if there isn't a real one to prove the fake one as fake."

Sam took a deep breath.

"Ok, so we leave it as it is. How much long do you think it would last?"

"Not much, I know. But at least, for a while it could be useful."

"I don't see how, Y/N. I'm not using you as my secret-spy-soldier or whatever."

"Sam is right. It's not worth it."

"Castiel?" You looked at him, only to find the agreeing look. You looked down.

"Look, how can you be sure nobody else remembers you?" The angel tried to clear your mind.

"For most people I know, I never happened. And the others, will probably only remember me when they see me, if they do. Until then..."

"That's not right." Sam interrupted. "I had this feeling about you, before we arrived on that day; like I left something behind, but I couldn't remember why."

"So did I."

"I got one your prayers for not getting news from us." You stood there, silent.

"That's it? A feeling you forgot something?!" You left for your bedroom, a little ofended they didn't listen to you. Your idea was good, logical. You genuinely thought they would see it as a good thing out of all this.

Reflecting on it, you finally notice: you may not know your family as well as before. At first it sounds crazy, but this is all crazy, ain't it? And after doing their exercise for a couple hours, thinking about your childhood, the events that crossed it and when it all began, you got yourself some questions.

You fell asleep while still thinking, trying to find logic somewhere and always getting to the same point, a lost point. Somehow while sleeping, you had no dreams, didn't wake up once; not even the fact that you were with a jacket bothered you.

"Hey, man. You good?" Dean noticed Sam squeeze his eyes.

"Yep. Just those flashbacks. I hate to have them by day, but I can't sleep no longer."

"Like a constant hangover, thank God it's not a heavy one." Sam did not answer. "Sam?"

"Right..." Sam stared at the floor, seeing stuff in his mind. He blinked multiple times after a little.

"You all right? You seem shocked. What did you remember?"

"It's just... Y/N's suggestion."

"Dude, that was today."

"Very funny!" Dean smiled a little to ease his brother. "It got me thinking. Why would she want that?"

"Honestly," Castiel entered suddenly. "I think she is trying to get something good out of this."

"Good? I see her point, but..."

"Not good." Cas interrupted, correcting himself. "Useful, at least."

"It's not as useful as she thinks." Dean says as if it's obvious.

"It's the only thing she has to offer." Castiel putted it in a weird way, but made sense. They silented for an instant. "Still, how does that has to do with your flashback, Sam?"

"I thought that maybe I should listen to her. Maybe there was a point."

"You, Sammy, considered the possibility of being saved by her?"

"Obviously not. I wondered: what if her non-existence helped her get away from this craziness. Like, she could get to any school if we put some effort."

"You concluded it fast." Cas commented.

"Well, yeah. Then I... questioned." Sam felt the gazes at him. "How did she get dragged into hunting in the first place? Why did I not stop it? And one more thing popped up: why did I leave college?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Dean couldn't understand his brother.

"Dean, if it wasn't for my anger towards Jessica's death, who knows..." He explained. "So why I left Stanford, making Camila stay behind and after weeks drop out too?"

Castiel took a seat.

"Why did you?"

Sam opened the door, showly. You were in your bed, far from his atmosphere, enjoying a rest you needed. He passed the door carefully, took a look at your room and turned the lights off. Ever since that hunt days ago, when he saw you sleep at the motel bed while he was reading about the case, the day he woke up before you and as you slept in the car coming back home, Sam felt peace as he watched you.

It was the moment he could breath easily and a little relaxed. You were resting, next to him, nothing could hurt you in your sleep. There, you were safe and wasn't leaving soon. So he couldn't help watch you once more; just stood by the door for a couple seconds, smiled at the taught of you having a break from this madness for some hours. Grabbed the door and heard your move, turning to check if he had woken ya.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." Your voice sounded lazy. "I have a light sleep."

"So do I." You nodded. You knew it. He regrets commenting it.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

"No, tell me." He understood you couldn't sleep anymore.

"You don't want to talk now."

"It's about earlier, I know." You said while rubbing your eyes. "Just spit it." He gave in and sat in your chair.

"Why do you wanna do it?"

"Why don't you?"

"Why would I?"

"You've always wanted this." He gulped.

"What? No!"

"You never wanted me to be in risk, you hated the fact I made you all vulnerable, now nobody knows I'm here. I know this isn't permanent and things can change, but for now, you could finally be at peace. Nobody knows me, none of you have to worry."

Samuel digested everything you said and got his answer prepared fastly enough.

"For a long time I asked myself if Jessica never died, would I be here? And you know, as things turned out to be, as I found out more and more throughout the years I got the answer." He paused. "I would. Because if it wasn't Jess, it would be Dean or dad, or a friend."

"What do you mean?"

"I left college for revenge." You got surprised. "It wasn't Jess. Not anymore." That sounded weird. "I made a choice and I know now that somehow, at some point, no matter how many times... I would make that choice again. As soon as somebody I care about got in danger. So I left college. For you."

Sam got back from his first hunt after two years. Camila was waiting. They talked and she was serious when she told him to call Dean. Leave as soon as he could. She said she had a bad feeling, he had to find his father. Was something repentine, fast and clear - the fear in her voice stopped Sam from questioning.

"The way she talked to me... her eyes, getting sudden tears. At first I tried to calm her, jokes on me, I blamed her hormones. Camila proved me wrong. I knew she had that sometimes, like with tests or bad decisions, maybe something simple like knowing staying in was better than going to a party. She was always right. If not totally right, fast enough to avoid regret." He looked down as her voice came to his head and repeated her words. "'This is your family we're talking about, Samuel! Your child's grandfather.' She screamed. I was scared." You two laughed a little. "She begged. Aggressively. But, I didn't leave because she did."

"Why then?"

"I called Dean to get back there and pick me up because once we talked, I got that bad feeling too. And was suddenly afraid. Afraid something would happen to either of you." You stayed silent. "I hoped things would be more simple, soon I'd be back and things would go back to normal. You would be born and grow up, normal. We would be a family..."

"Please, don't say normal." He smiled.

"Your mother's bad feeling... I don't know what is was about exactly. She got scared too in that moment and it was the only time I saw her that scared. But I know that mine became true. Only, it was even worse. There was no blame. Of all things that happened in those months, how worried I was with my father, you, Camila and even Dean... The hunts, the confusion and overwhelming information all at once. The fear. Your mother's death was the most sudden and painful." You saw a tear run down his cheek, followed by a couple more. Sam had more to say but you spoke before, in the heat of the moment.

"She knew." He looked back at you, now with red eyes. "I think she knew something bad was going to happen."

"She knew we would be in danger." By we, he meant himself, his uncle and your grandpa.

"No. Not that. She knew that something terrible was happening already and would get worse. But she didn't tell you to go to stop it." His tears froze, lost in your words. "Like you said. Camila was always right about this bad feelings. She was certain." You were sure thanks to your own experience with it.

"About Dean needing me more than her?" You denied.

"About you needing the rest of your family once I was born."

[hotforharrison]

Club Utopia (Oneshot)

Masterlist

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield/Reader

Summary: Meeting Harrison during your first visit to a sex club.

Word Count: 2,001

Warnings: Language and smut, my usual go-tos.

A/N: I first posted this for Writers Wednesday on @the-sha-official0hazanon​‘s blog! I seriously recommend checking him out. He’s the best Haz anon ever.

There was nothing on the exterior of the building that would indicate it was a sex club, not that you had particularly expected there to be a glowing sign saying ‘SEX CLUB’ on it.

You nervously walked into the lobby and approached the counter.

“Welcome to Club Utopia. I’ll need you to read over these rules for the club and sign a form. I’ll also need your ID,” the girl behind the counter told you. “We accept cash or card for the cover.”

You skimmed the rules that you’d already read on their website before you’d chosen to come, signed the form, handed over your ID, and paid the cover.

“You’re set now. Enjoy!” The girl returned her attention to her phone as you walked toward the entrance to the club itself.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but this wasn’t quite it.

The inside of the club was dimly lit with blue lighting, and the only other patrons you could see were two women sitting close together. They looked up at you for a moment and then returned to their conversation.

The televisions mounted to the wall were showing low quality porn, an orgy set at a frat party. Since no one was around yet that piqued your interest, you chose to ignore the porn in favor of paying attention to your phone for the moment.

Hopefully, you hadn’t just wasted your Friday night.

You got distracted on your social media and were quite startled when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, is this seat taken, love?” a smooth male British accent asked from beside you.

The accent was an immediate turn-on, not something you encountered often living an entire ocean away from England. 

You glanced up at him. The first thing you noticed was his pale blue eyes, striking even in the dim light. Although you couldn’t see him perfectly with the lights as low as they were, he was still definitely the hottest guy who had ever paid attention to you.

At that moment, you decided to go for it. You came to the sex club for a reason, after all.

“It’s not,” you told him with a smile.

“I’m Harrison,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Harrison. You’re far away from home,” you commented.

“I travel a lot for work,” he explained.

You wanted to ask more about him, but you weren’t sure what was appropriate to ask a sex club patron, eventually blurting out, “so, what brings you here?”

“You mean what brings me to a sex club?” he asked with a chuckle, raising his eyebrows.

“Sorry, I’ve never been to one of these before, and I’m a little nervous,” you said, sheepishly.

“Honestly, I haven’t either,” he confessed. “This isn’t like meeting girls in a pub. I guess I’ll just outright ask. Would you like to go to one of the private rooms with me?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more,” you answered, so excited at the prospect of what was about to happen that you almost knocked over your chair as you got up.

He laughed softly to himself at your eagerness.

You followed him across the main floor into one of the private rooms, shutting the door behind you.

The room was small. There was a padded bed with no bedding and a small table containing a bowl with packets of lube and condoms in it, with a wastebasket on the floor next to it. A TV mounted on the wall was showing the same low quality porn from the main floor.

You stood in front of him silently, started to fidget.

“So, uh…” you trailed off awkwardly.

Harrison opened and closed his mouth, looking a bit lost. He leaned down to kiss you, but immediately pulled away. “Shit, one second.”

You were momentarily worried that he’d changed his mind, but you were relieved when you saw he just went to the wastebasket to spit his gum out.

“Sorry about that. I’m usually smoother than this,” he apologized.

“I’m not, if we’re being perfectly honest here,” you admitted.

He chuckled. “Now, where were we?”

“Right about here,” you responded, leaning up to kiss him as he leaned down.

You met his soft and warm lips with your own. The kiss was never really chaste, his tongue quick to dart out and slip between your already parted lips. He tasted slightly cinnamony as he brushed his tongue unhurriedly against yours.

He moaned quietly into your mouth when you stopped being a passive partner, your tongue making its way into his mouth. You traced his perfect teeth, then explored his mouth slowly and thoroughly.

You lost track of time, completely engrossed in the kiss, only returning to awareness when his hands slid down your mostly bare back to squeeze and massage your ass through the thin material of your tight dress. He tugged you completely flush against him.

One of his hands slipped up underneath the hem of your dress, finding its way in-between your thighs from behind.

He broke the kiss, breathing a bit heavily, eyebrows raised. “You’re not wearing panties, darling?”

You grinned. “Where are we right now?”

He smiled back. “Point taken.”

You spread your legs as much as you could in the confines of your dress, to give him more room to work with, but it wasn’t enough for your liking.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, tugging the offending garment over your head.

He chuckled. “No bra either, I see. Not that I have a problem with that. Less in the way.”

His head dipped to take one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it. His fingers now easily found their way between your folds, going for your clit immediately and rubbing slickly around the sensitive nub.

“Oh my god.” Your knees started to buckle, but he fortunately stabilized you with his arm from behind.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he mumbled against the skin of your breast, two long fingers pressing into you while his thumb took over on your clit.

“Talk to me?” you requested breathily.

“Like dirty talk?” he clarified.

“Yeah,” you responded, nodding.

“Love how wet you are for me. Tight, too. Gonna have to loosen you up some first before I can get my cock into you, though.” A third finger pushed in, next to the other two, scissoring slightly as he continued to pump them in and out of you and rub your clit. “Your pussy will feel so fucking amazing around my cock, I can’t wait. I promise I’ll fill you up better than anyone else ever has.”

The combination of what he was doing with his hand and the dirty talk in his delicious accent had you close. “Want to cum, please, Harrison.”

“Well, since you asked me so nicely.” His thumb worked your clit faster, and he fingered you a bit rougher, aiming more directly for your g-spot.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you moaned as your climax hit you harder than a brick wall, burying your fingers in the fabric of Harrison’s shirt while the sparks of pleasure coursed through you.

As you came down from your high, his motions gentled, until he finally stopped. He let you slump against him bonelessly.

He lifted you like a limp ragdoll and carried you over to the bed, gently depositing you on it, before he stepped back to strip off his own clothes.

“Hey, what if I wanted to undress you?” you complained, watching as he kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt.

“You’re in no state to do that right now, and I’ve been dressed plenty long enough. I’m in town for another four weeks anyway, if you’re interested in a repeat performance,” he offered.

“We’ll see. You might have a disappointing dick,” you teased.

“I seriously doubt it, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.” He undid his pants and shucked them and his boxers at the same time.

You looked him over, from head to toe. He was leanly muscled, with endless planes of smooth skin waiting to be touched. It left you eager to get your hands on him. You saved what you hoped to be the best for last, and you definitely weren’t disappointed.

His cock rested against his stomach, looking achingly hard, precum glistening at the tip. It wasn’t huge by any stretch, but it would be more than enough to fill you up. Maybe not the most you’d ever been filled up, or enough to ruin you for other men for the rest of your life, but you knew you were going to leave the club a very satisfied woman.

“Like what you see?” he eventually asked.

“I do,” you replied, simply. “You should come over here now.”

He smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

You watched as he made a quick stop at the bowl of condoms and lube.

He grabbed a condom of the bowl, fumbling a bit because of how quickly he tried to remove it from the wrapper and roll it down his length. It was obvious that he was just as desperate for you as you were for him.

You spread your legs and waited impatiently for him to join you on the bed.

“Look so pretty like this,” he commented, hands brushing lightly against your knees as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“Thank you. If you want me to move some other way, I can. I mean I’m not sure what your favorite position is,” you said. “I’m happy with whatever you want.”

“This is perfect. Missionary is sort of underrated in my opinion,” he told you, lining himself up and pushing into you in one long thrust. After he was all the way in, he lowered himself on top of you and pressed a brief kiss to your lips. “Need me to stay still for a minute?”

“Thank you for offering, but I think I’m good,” you replied. “I really want you to move right now.”

“Your wish is my command.” He rocked his hips against yours slowly, increasing the length and speed of his thrusts gradually, until he was finally fucking you at a just about perfect pace and depth.

You rolled your hips back into his thrusts until you found a rhythm you both liked, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him tighter against you.

His mouth met yours in wet and sloppy kisses, sometimes barely more than moaning and breathing heavily into each other’s mouths.

You snaked a hand between your bodies to get yourself off again before he came, but he pushed it aside.

“Let me,” he breathed. His hand replaced yours, fingers collecting some of your wetness near your entrance. Then, he started rubbing slick circles around your clit.

“Getting close,” you told him as your second orgasm of the night approached. It came much quicker than you’d anticipated, and even harder than the first one.

Your body clenched and pulsed around his cock, milking him, and bringing him over the edge with you.

He came with a loud groan, thrusts growing rougher and more erratic as he spilled into the condom. When his climax finally ebbed, he collapsed on top of you.

A comfortable silence stretched between you as you both recovered, heart rates gradually slowing and breathing evening out.

“How do you feel about pancakes?” he eventually asked.

“Um, they’re fine, I guess?” you responded, confused. “What do pancakes have to do with anything?”

“That was me asking you if you want to join me at IHOP. I’m hungry, and I saw one around the corner. They’re open 24 hours,” he explained.

You laughed. “Sure, why not? Going to IHOP in the middle of the night with a guy I met at a sex club wearing a skimpy dress with nothing on underneath it probably wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

He smiled at you. “Sounds like you’ve got stories to tell me, pretty girl.”

“Sounds like I do,” you agreed, smiling back.

@adayasgeorgia​ @moorehollandplz​ @thollandss​ @dasexydevitt13​ @imagine-lovebug​ @robbinholland​ @strang-ersclub​ @hollandisapuppy​ @goldenpeaxh​ @legendsofwholock​ @superheroesaremytea​ @tomblrholland @niiight-dreamerrrr​ @spidermanffh3000​ @devildisguiseasangel @theyy-lovemo​ @eeyore101247​ @angelhaz11​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ @farfromhaz​ @cherry-holland​ @jinx4karma​ @definitely-not-black-cat​ @lizzyosterfield​

[maryellencarter]

Queer asks copied from @corelliaxdreaming :

1. Is your family accepting? -- Hah. No. My bio-family is not accepting at allllll, so I went and got myself an internet family instead.

2. What is your sexuality? -- Weird. The strongest part of my identity is Aromantic. I seem to be pretty much allosexual, maybe bisexual; most of the people I find myself attracted to are men within a fairly specific category (physically fit to muscular, at least as competent as me, kind, and often a bit dorky; I also have a weakness for clever hands and sexy voices), but the women I'm attracted to cover a much broader range of appearances and personalities. I fall pretty much in the category of the one Tumblr post that said something like "Being bisexual means you're attracted to three specific fictional men and all women", even though the attraction to men... feels... more attraction-y? I'm still really struggling to figure that difference out.

3. What is your gender identity? -- Sort of genderfluid, sort of genderqueer, sort of maybe agnostically agender? I used to ID really strongly as a trans man, and then after a year or so of being accepted, I found myself turning female. I bounced back and forth for a lot of years but seem to have settled down at a point where it doesn't especially matter to me most of the time. Which is a lot more comfortable than hurtling around to different points on the gender spectrum without warning.

4. Favorite color? -- Blue. Royal blue, mostly. That really deep sky blue you get sometimes during the fall. A bunch of really bright colors.

5. When did you find out your sexuality? -- Oh, it's been a process. For a long time I identified as asexual. It took me years to figure out I was actually romance-repulsed, and more years to figure out I had any attraction to women. I'm still sort of confused by that part. Like I mostly just want to look at them being pretty, but I also definitely want to look at their boobs? Maybe touch some boobs? I'm honestly not sure.

6. What do you wish you could tell your past self? -- Oh lord. Sexuality and gender wise? I'm not sure young me could have been hurried along the process of self discovery. I'd really like to tell her she was being abused and gaslighted and that she needed to take her great-aunt's offer of a free ride and major in geology *before* she broke her health, and maybe also tell her she needed a CPAP machine, but she might just think I was a temptation of the Devil. Also I'm not sure if the CPAP machine was an option before Obamacare. Or the psych meds she needed, either.

7. Have you changed labels since realizing you were queer? -- Oh yeah, all over the place. Asexual, trans, genderqueer, biromantic (for about a week), aromantic allosexual bisexual maybe pansexual... some people apparently even count PCOS as an intersex condition, since I have a lot more beard and chest hair than is normal for perisex women, to the point that I always have to explain to a new doctor that I'm not in fact on testosterone, my body just does that. I've never quite felt right claiming the intersex label, but I've tried on a lot of others. I think my header may still say "queer on every conceivable axis".

8. How was your day? -- Um. I got stuck wandering Cracked.com for most of it. Then I drove up to check out my pulmonologist's office, which doesn't *say* they're closed for the pandemic, so I guess I'll go up again on Thursday and poke them about whether my appointment still exists. Then I went and wandered around a very large very dead mall on that side of town, hatched a bunch of pokeymans, then came home and ate some split pea soup.

9. Do you have any queer friends irl? -- I don't have *any* friends irl, and it's kicking my ass. I have like one or two coworkers I could hypothetically hang out with outside of work if we weren't so all-fired busy. But if we're talking "friends I have seen irl at some point", I'm pretty sure they're all queer. They might also be limited to @tigerkat24 and one other person who doesn't use Tumblr, I'm not sure.

10. What's your favorite hobby? -- Probably knitting. It's soft and squishy and brightly colored, and it can be as brainless or as complex as I could possibly want.

11. Who's the best queer icon in your opinion? -- I honestly don't have an opinion. I've always been too far outside the community to figure out whomst the options were.

12. Which pride flags do you like the most design / color wise? -- Pansexual. I'd probably have a lot more pride merch if I IDed as pan, but it just never feels like it fits quite right.

13. Do you wish you could change any pride flags? -- YES. The aro flag is the exact same colors as the agender flag, just in a different arrangement, and it pisses me off because you can't distinguish aro merch from agender merch unless it's specifically flag shaped / has the stripe arrangement. I liked the yellow/orange/green/black aro flag, I found it much more cheerful, but apparently it was too similar to something Rastafarian. But you can't find alloaro flag merch at *all*, even though it has the green and yellow, which I like.

14. Are you openly out? -- Can't really help it, since I legally changed my name to a distinctively masculine one back in the day, and I do not remotely pass as male. So anybody who both sees or hears me and knows my legal name, knows there's *something* queerish going on. (I go by a gender neutral name these days, but haven't yet been arsed to change it legally because it's an entire hassle and a half.)

15. Are you comfortable with yourself? -- Mneh. I'm not *un*comfortable with my gender and sexuality, particularly. Sometimes I wish I could pass as male, sometimes I wish I could have cute cleavage. Sometimes I tie myself in knots with my feelings about women.

16. Do you experience dysphoria? -- I used to, very strongly. It hasn't been very aggressive lately.

17. Bottom, top, or verse? -- *shrugs* I guess I'd be a switch or "verse" because I'm down for whatever.

18. Are you femme, butch, or neither? -- I swing wildly between wishing to present Extremely Butch in a lumberjack style, which is impractical in the Southwest, or wishing to present Extremely Femme but being unable to do so, and tying myself in knots over the inability. (I can't wear femmey shoes due to my stupid feet, I can't have pierced ears as they get infected and the one pair of nice lightweight handcrafted earrings I paid $50 for is gone with the rest of my shit, I'm too lorge to find any nice dresses or be able to like try on prom dresses and stuff, I have a tendency to break jewelry as I'm extremely rough on my possessions... etc.) In practice my gender presentation is Fat Slob. :P

19. Do you bind? -- Not technically, but I do wear cheap sports bras which tend to flatten rather than lift or shape.

20. Do you shave? -- Only by necessity. I shave my face when I remember, because my beard looks extremely douchey and rather like pubes. Occasionally I shave my cleavage if I'm trying to present femmey. I pretty much never shave anything else unless the hair is getting Smelly.

21. If you could date anyone you wanted, who would it be? -- Um. Good question. The thing is, I am fairly strongly romance-repulsed, but I do want and enjoy queerplatonic relationships, so I would draw a distinction here between "dating" someone and being "in a relationship" with them.

22. Are you in a relationship? -- Yes, in fact.

23. Describe your partner. -- @camshaft22 . Um. She's very much the Hobbie to my Wes. She's very snarky and dies a lot and I love her very much.

24. Have you ever dated anyone of the same gender? -- Given that we're both genderfluid, I would say I'm in a relationship with someone of the same gender, yes.

25. Dated anyone of another gender? -- I've never dated or been in a relationship with anyone else, so I guess the answer is no.

26. Tell me a random fact about yourself! -- I always use this one, but I once lived in four different states (mostly non-contiguous) within a calendar month.

27. Do you own any pride flags / merch? -- No. I used to have a whole-ass collection that I added to every Pride, and then I lost all my damn shit and haven't had the heart to start looking again. Well, I have a rainbow necklace Kat sent me which is pretty nice. Can't wear it till my damn sunburn heals, though. :P

28. Have you ever been to a pride parade? -- Yes, when I lived in Bisbee. They have quite an excellent Pride which draws people from as far off as Denver.

29. Any advice to someone who isn't out or is exploring themselves? -- Take your time. It's okay if things change. You don't have to solve yourself all at once. It's more important to find people who will accept whoever you turn out to be.

30. Pineapple on pizza? -- I've honestly never tried it. Part of me feels like I should, in order to develop an opinion, and part of me feels like I'm just as happy being outside of that particular debate.

[spectralreplica]

So I loved your response on who would be most likely to witch out in the PMMM/DR v3 au, but id love to ask, what did they all wish for? (Bonus: Also did those wishes backfire?)

So, these are my thoughts for right now, but if I actually planned more of the “story” for this AU, some of them might change. For some of them I kind of cheated and came up with the power first, but in my defense it’s hard to come up with wishes without having planned more of the plot, since Kyubey tries so hard to get people to make spur of the moment wishes during times of stress.

Kokichi: I see him as totally paranoid (rightfully so) over how Kyubey’s trying to trick him but still obsessing for weeks over the perfect phrasing for a wish just in case, and then suddenly a witch traps him and DICE in a Labyrinth and he ends up contracting with a totally spontaneous wish. Something like “saving my friends” or “being strong enough to protect my family.” For maximum irony, he’d end up with powers that get stronger when fighting with/to protect others but keep trying to fight alone anyway due to not trusting other magicals and not wanting to put DICE in danger. He’d also tell people he wished for other things like, “to rule the world from the shadows,” or “an infinite supply of scarfs.” As for backfiring, he does save everyone that one time, but they’re in more danger since other magicals end up targeting them when Kokichi poaches from their territories, plus they’re in the line of fire if/when he witches out.

Kaito: Like in the game, Kaito is terminally ill and wishes for something along the lines of “being healthy enough to achieve his dreams,” but he totally lies and says he wished for something like “being strong enough to help others.” He gets the power to temporarily boost other people’s powers and/or make their bodies regenerate from wounds. He kind of avoids using the healing part at first because it’s a little suspicious with his alleged wish and then pretends it’s a thing he’s been practicing. It doesn’t really go bad for him, and I don’t think he’d regret making the wish, even when he finds out about the Soul Gems controlling your body thing. Maybe when he realizes there are no witches in space? But even then I think he’d be in denial…

Shuichi: Shuichi ends up involved in a really serious case and just can’t find the piece that ties it all together even though everyone is counting on him. At the height of his anxiety, Kyubey approaches him, and he wishes to find the truth. He basically gets super intuition/lie detection with a (mental) visual interface sort of like the DR trials (truth bullets plus the mini games). This creates drama with certain other magicals who are hiding something (cough, Kokichi and Kaito) and makes him doubt his skills since he’s relying on magic to cheat.

Maki: Still an orphan, still approached by a cult, but then approached by Kyubey. She wishes that the cult would never bother anyone at the orphanage again, and they all end up arrested, dead, or mysteriously vanished. She basically gets the power to make things/people “go away” to a pocket dimension only she can access, and this makes other people sort of forget those things/people exist while they’re inside. She sees her wish as a necessary sacrifice, like her becoming an assassin in canon, so she is Not Happy when Kyubey approaches some of the other orphans.

Kaede: Honestly not sure???? She doesn’t really have anything in her backstory that would be a catalyst for Kyubey to approach her, so I see it as more of a random chance, situation-based thing, like Madoka healing the cat. Maybe she was trapped in a Labyrinth and wished for the power to fight survive, or to save a friend? Just know it’s not related to her piano playing. That’s all practice, and she likes it that way.

(Joke answer: Kaede gets super mad at someone from a distance and wishes she could slap them across the face for being an idiot. She gets the power to telekinetically smack anything around from across the room.)

Himiko: Intrigued by the idea of real magic but not intrigued by the idea of having to fight witches. Ends up wishing for her mentor to be more popular. Not as mind-controlly as Kyoko’s wish; basically, people just find him really cool and talented and can’t look away from his shows, but they don’t like, form a cult? Sort of derails her own career as a magician (both because the audience likes her mentor more and because she has to sneak off and fight witches) and doesn’t really fix the problems in their relationship, but he doesn’t leave and never return. Anyway, she gets the power to make herself and anyone she touches more or less noticeable/popular. Really good for stealth or drawing aggro. Also for convincing people to do her favors.

Tenko: She recently moved to the city after living in a temple since she was a child, and is finding it hard to adjust. One night, when she’s out acting as a “hero of justice” like her Master taught her and preventing a suicide, she ends up trapped in a Labyrinth and saved by Himiko. She ends up really, really attached and sort of accompanies her on hunts for a while until something goes wrong, and she ends up wishing to protect Himiko. She ends up with sort of a sense when Himiko needs help and is really good at putting up shields/barriers.

Miu: Still in a bad car crash leading to a coma, butthe surgery doesn’t go as well. Kyubey approaches her in the hospital right after she’s been told she’s facing permanent brain damage. She almost wishes to put her brain back to normal but then decides, why stop there? She wishes to be a genius with a super-brain that can solve any problem, and ends up with super inspiration, mostly aimed at turning any materials around her into an invention that will help her. She can use magic to substitute for missing materials and speed up the development time, but this uses a lot of magic at once, and the finished product won’t work for anyone else. Freaks out when she learns her body is now essentially hardware, but then she realizes the possibilities for improving things… Then everyone else freaks out.

Gonta: Still a feral child who got lost in the woodsand was sort of raised by wolves (not reptites, sorry), but this affects his ability to learn language and social skills much, much more severely than in canon. Wishes for the ability to understand others, which makes him fluent in all languages and sort of an empath. Also, because he sees animals as sort of on the same level as humans, this extends to animal languages in addition to human ones. Being able to speak and mimic “good manners” improves others’ opinions of him and his intelligence, but being able to feel how his birth family really feels about him is so upsetting that he eventually ends up running away and staying with Miu and Kiibo.

Kiibo: Lives with Miu. Does not remember his wish, but he has powers, so he has to have made one? Probably human. I’m still sort of torn over his backstory, but I’m kind of leaning towards a Hijiri kind of situation, where he was created by someone else’s wish. Or magic (cough, Miu.)

Ryoma: Wishes to get revenge on the mafia that killed his family and girlfriend. Basically gets enhanced strength and a sort of sense of where all of the members are. I sort of went over how his wish ends up in the other post…

Korekiyo: Wished to cure his sister’s illness and got healing powers. Currently traveling the world to observe other magicals. Like the other cult members, offers to use his powers for a price (usually Grief Seeds or information).

Angie: Starts out living on an isolated island andacting as a priestess/oracle, but begins to doubt her own abilities/connection to her god because natural disasters are getting worse and more people are leaving. She sort of interprets Kyubey as a messenger from her god and wishes to know what’s really going on/get a better sense of her destiny. She gets the power to predict the future as long as she is personally involved. She has to actively focus on a question (What happens if I do this?) or a goal (I want to achieve this) and she’ll see the most probable path. This really elevates her sense of self-importance, and makes it much easier to make others see things her way. It doesn’t prevent a tsunami from destroying her home and making everyone leave, at which point she meets Tsumugi and Kirumi.

Tsumugi: Her life isn’t bad, but she doesn’t like herself that much and feels empty and unfulfilled until she comes across the existence of actual magical girls (well, one in particular). Like an anime come to life! Tsumugi wishes for the ability to become someone else (yes, I know this was Rena’s wish too…) and gets the power to transform into other people. If they’re a magical, she can also copy a limited, weaker version of their powers.

Rantaro: Wishes to find all of his sisters and gets the ability to track people. He has an inherent sense where each of his sisters is and their general emotional state, but he can also apply this power to other people if he focuses. It works from anywhere in the world and can be based on a photograph, but it works best when the person is close by (from a country away he knows they’re alive and northwest from him, from a building away he knows they’re sitting in a chair in the back corner of the back bedroom and feeling excited but a little nervous) and he’s met them in person. He quickly discovers that tracking a sister down once doesn’t mean she’ll stay “found” and go home. Some of them also want to travel, others have bad senses of direction and always get lost again, some find his new knowledge of where they are and how they feel super creepy and avoid him, and at least one became a magical girl already… He probably finds out about the witch thing first…….

Kirumi: Part of a family that’s been serving animportant, rich family (maybe Rantaro’s? for maximum irony?) for generations. She’s been trained to dedicate her whole life to serving others and has no real prospects outside of eventually becoming head maid and training her own children to replace her. Meets Angie and Tsumugi and is immediately drawn in by Angie’s message. Wishes for the ability to instantly transport herself and others and gets the ability to teleport to any location she’s seen (photos count). It gets harder the more people she takes along, the longer the distance, and the less detail she knows about her destination. She tells everyone—and herself—that she lives to serve and wished for a convenient power to better serve the group’s needs, but she secretly wanted to escape really badly for her own sake too.

[vino-and-doggos]

Cheers to the New Year

Read on AO3  |  Written for @lilbreadbun

Rated: G

Words: 2201

Summary: Just returned from active duty, Roy Mustang is bartending his Aunt Chris's karaoke holiday party at the bar. A beautiful blonde takes the stage and her voice puts Roy under a spell. If only it weren't too good to be true.

Happy holidays, @lilbreadbun, from your Secret Santa!! This is something that I’ve wanted to write for a very long time, so thank you for giving me the opportunity to write it! I hope you enjoy <3

~

Bah humbug, Roy thought to himself. Half his mind was joking, but the other half was dead serious. 

It wasn’t that he hated Christmas — he used to love the holiday, in fact. It was more that he couldn’t enjoy the holiday anymore. Fake trees and pre-packaged holiday sweets reminded him too much of Maes, a man for whom even Ebenezer Scrooge would have emptied his coffers in pursuit of the perfect Christmas present. He sighed and put down another dry glass on the rubber mat behind the bar.

Roy looked at the dark wooden interior surrounding him and had to stop himself just short of rolling his eyes at the tacky — yet festive, his sisters assured him — decorations that littered the bar. Tinsel trees shoved into corners and ornaments hung from the ceiling left remnants of glitter on every flat surface. Lights were strung everywhere, casting the bar in an odd, multicolored glow.

Because of course, a bar called Christmas Cheers had to go out for the holiday of its namesake, right?

The biggest problem was, in Roy’s opinion, that it attracted the now-college age people that he went to high school with who were home on winter break. It was cute and kitschy and Instagrammable or Snapchattable. Life was not designed to be lived through the screen of a smartphone or viewed through filters. And those that desired to do so did nothing but grate on Roy’s last nerve. 

There was a reason Roy lost contact with his friends from high school when he joined the military, and frankly, he had no interest in trying to reconnect. He would take the group chat with the friends he made while deployed over the flesh and blood frenemies who dropped him for enlisting any day.

Glancing at the clock, he let out a groan. Only half an hour until they opened.

“I don’t wanna hear that, Roy-Boy,” he heard a gravelly voice say from around the corner. 

Roy really did roll his eyes this time, but now it was a gesture in quasi prayer to Someone-he-wasn’t-even-sure-existed to grant him patience. Because if he was given strength, he surely was going to hurt someone before the night was over.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Chris. I’m just really not looking forward to this. I can usually handle normal nights, but karaoke? It’s going to bring in every screeching college girl in the tri-county area. You’re lucky that you’re friends with the DA and that the cops don’t police this place for underage drinking, because this stunt is going to -”

“Cut it out, Roy,” Chris said exasperatedly. “Your melodrama isn’t going to help you get through the night. Yes, there will most likely be underage college kids here trying to drink tonight. Luckily, though, I have a really good bartender,” she emphasized while motioning to him, “who knows how to properly check IDs.”

He grumbled, “That doesn’t stop their of-age friends from buying drinks for them.”

“Seriously. If you’re going to be like this all night, go and wallow in your room, Roy. I understand you’re grieving, and you’re working through your tour overseas. I want to support you the best I can, but this is also my business. If you’re not going to be full of Christmas Cheer tonight -” Roy rolled his eyes again - “then I’ll ask one of your sisters to bartend.”

“No,” he replied, a tone of longing edging into his voice, almost as though he wanted her to do just that. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

He turned back to the bar and began prepping lemons, limes, and oranges, but he couldn’t help but smile when he heard his aunt mumble, “Who knows. Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight.”

Roy had to admire her optimism, if nothing else.

~

“Hey man, can I get two beers?” a kid with jet-black hair pulled back into a ponytail shouted over the music. Behind him stood a short blond with long hair who had a smug grin on his face. 

“Just need to see some ID first,” Roy said back over the dulcet tones of a curvy brunette with pouty red lips murdering “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”

Who the hell sings this at karaoke? Roy pondered.

“Aww, come on, we’re legal,” the blond said, his voice lilting with the cadence of someone trying to convince another of what they’re saying. And failing, miserably.

“I’m sure you are,” smiled Roy, “but I’m sorry, I have to see some ID for anyone who looks younger than 40.” He hesitated for a moment. “For both of you.”

“Oh, well, Ed. We tried!” the first kid laughed.

“Ling! You just busted us!” the one apparently named Ed yelled, smacking his friend on the shoulder. 

“Listen,” Roy started, “I’m feeling especially festive tonight, so I’ll let you stay and drink any non-alcoholic drink you want for free.”

The boys weighed their options by silently exchanging looks before Ling turned back to Roy.

“We’ll take two cokes — but can you put them in lowball glasses with drink stirrers?” Ling asked with an air of conspiracy.

“Sure thing, kid,” he chuckled, pulling out the soda gun. 

Right before he handed the drinks over, he stuck a lime on the rim of the glass. As he handed them over, the boys nodded in solidarity and thanks. Roy just smiled in return.

He turned to the far end of the bar, the end closest to the stage, to check on the patrons seated there. A few indicated refills, so Roy pulled out new glasses and started pouring. As he was pouring the perfect mug of beer, he heard the tell-tale clicks of a song with an a capella opening.

“Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame, darlin’ you give love a bad name!”

Huh. This chick wasn’t bad.

Roy walked the beer to the end of the bar, taking a moment to catch a glimpse of the small stage through the crowd. What he saw caused his jaw to drop.

A stunning blonde in a deliciously tight, yet simple, black t-shirt and a pair of jeans that looked as though they were painted on danced about the stage. Her loose hair fell just past her shoulders and swung around her rhythmically as she whirled around. She danced in a way that made it obvious that alcohol flowed through her system, but Roy didn’t remember serving her. The impressive part is that she actually was on-key and hitting the marks without staring at the screen. Bon Jovi’s melody blasted through the speakers, and the audience was eating it up.

“Ohhh, you’re a loaded gun…”

Damn. Roy shook his head and went back to refilling drinks. She was a siren, and he was not immune to her call. Over everything else, he continued hearing her voice singing the upbeat rock tune. He had to ask another patron what their order was three times before he finally understood what they were asking for.

The song ended with raucous applause and cheering. Mostly male, Roy noted, but many females sounding out their appreciation, as well. The DJ had to shout the name of the next singer repeatedly through the system before they approached the booth to grab the microphone. It was the wildest the bar had gotten all night.

However, the excitement was short-lived. The next singer (Roy thinks he heard the DJ call him Alex?) decided to sing Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven.” Why can’t this crowd — with the exception of one — pick karaoke songs that are worth a damn?

Despite the current song filling the bar, Roy couldn’t get her out of his head. Her song rattled around in his brain, her voice continuing to envelop him in strains of familiar melody. Just then, he heard a female voice from behind him.

“Hey!” it exclaimed brightly.

He knew that voice.

Roy turned on his heel to meet the amber eyes of the best Bon Jovi impersonator he’d ever seen or heard waving at him with a sweet smile on her face. Her beautiful blonde hair was now tied back in a low ponytail, bangs still draped across her forehead; it was darker than he originally thought it was, more of a honeyed blonde. He decided to play it cool and nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“What can I get for you?” he asked, trying to make sure he was heard over the music, but also making sure his voice sounded smooth and rich.

“Just a water, please,” she responded, eyes shining in the incandescent holiday lights.

Roy chuckled deeply as he reached for a glass. “Singing take it out of you?”

“It always does,” she nodded, laughing in return.

“Always?” Roy questioned, barely registering that he had even spoken it aloud. “I’m sorry,” he started, waving his left hand and placing her water glass down with his right. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Nah, thanks though,” she winked.

He followed the head of blonde hair through the sea of people and sighed. 

She was so out of his league.

~

Hours later, the crowd was winding down. Only a few were left, and hardly anyone left was singing. The DJ announced last call for songs and the bar, wishing all a happy holiday season.

Roy had already started to clean as best he could behind the bar — bottles in their proper place, the beginnings of labels for the cooler — when he heard that voice again.

“Hey!” that same exclamation; that same intonation. He smiled as he faced her.

“I’m surprised I didn’t see you again,” he said, smirking.

“I had someone grab me water when they came up for their drinks,” she explained.

Huh. So that’s why he didn’t see her for the rest of the night. Wait a minute.

“You got up there and sang and danced like that completely sober?” he questioned.

His tone was light and teasing but with an underlying tone of awe and surprise.She laughed in response. Roy could have sworn that she made the room brighter. 

“Yup. My mother used to say that I’m a natural-born performer.”

“She was right,” he affirmed. “I’m Roy, by the way.”

“Riza,” she offered, extending her hand across the bar.

He took her hand, so soft and warm in his cold, calloused palm, and shook.

“I just wanted to say thanks for the fantastic service tonight. Many lesser bartenders would have lost their cool with the number of people in here, but we never waited long for drinks.” Riza smirked as she pulled a $20 bill out of her back pocket and slid it into the fishbowl that was acting as a tip jar.

“That’s way too generous; I can’t accept that,” Roy protested weakly. “You said just had water all night -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Riza interrupted, waving him off.

“Listen…” Roy started. “We have an event here on New Year’s Eve, too… Same kind of stuff as tonight, karaoke and drinks, but there’s also going to be a buffet with food… If you’re interested?” he trailed off hopefully.

“Oh, that sounds fun! I think I’ll still be in town then, but I’ll have to double-check. Will you be working?”

This was it. Take the chance, Roy.

“I was scheduled to, but I’m thinking about taking the evening off to enjoy the party.” Do it, Roy. Shoot your shot. “Would you be interested in coming with me?”

“Oh!” Riza said, a blush dusting across the bridge of her nose. “I - well, I’m - not really - um -”

The shot missed the target completely.

It was Roy’s turn to turn red. 

“Forget I said anything, I was just thinking that maybe we could... Oh my god, please, I’m sorry, just -” 

“Roy, stop, it’s fine,” Riza cut off his rambling. “I just didn’t quite know how to say…” She paused and inhaled. “I’m in a relationship.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, and this much was true, in more ways than one. “I didn’t know.” Roy hoped that the earth would open up and swallow him. Right then.

“How could you?” she chuckled. “We just met.”

“Babe? Are you ready to go?” a voice sounded to Roy’s right. A decidedly feminine voice. 

He whipped around to see another blonde with waist-length hair the color of cornsilk. She stood by the door with a group of four or five others.

“Riza?” she prompted.

“Sorry, Liv, I’ll be right there,” Riza smiled before turning back to Roy. She extended her hand to him once more. “Friends?”

Smiling, he agreed. “Friends.”

Riza walked to the door and grabbed her coat from Liv. As she was walking out the door, she shouted over her shoulder, “See you on New Year’s Eve, Roy!”

Friends. He could do friends.

He smiled and started humming. He was almost to the chorus before he realized the tune was “Auld Lang Syne.”

He might have been shot down, but at least he wasn’t shot through the heart as Riza’s song might have suggested. There was an odd sense of hopefulness about him, though; a new year was coming. Sparing the whole “new year, new me” nonsense, Roy truly felt like the next year would bring about healing, hope, and friendship.

Bring it on.

[the-sha-official0hazanon]

Club Utopia (Writers Wednesday)

I haven't posted this oneshot on my blog yet, so this is going to be a Writers Wednesday exclusive for today! 😲

There was nothing on the exterior of the building that would indicate it was a sex club, not that you had particularly expected there to be a glowing sign saying ‘SEX CLUB’ on it.

You nervously walked into the lobby and approached the counter.

“Welcome to Club Utopia. I’ll need you to read over these rules for the club and sign a form. I’ll also need your ID,” the girl behind the counter told you. “We accept cash or card for the cover.”

You skimmed the rules that you’d already read on their website before you’d chosen to come, signed the form, handed over your ID, and paid the cover.

“You’re set now. Enjoy!” The girl returned her attention to her phone as you walked toward the entrance to the club itself.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but this wasn’t quite it.

The inside of the club was dimly lit with blue lighting, and the only other patrons you could see were two women sitting close together. They looked up at you for a moment and then returned to their conversation.

The televisions mounted to the wall were showing low quality porn, an orgy set at a frat party. Since no one was around yet that piqued your interest, you chose to ignore the porn in favor of paying attention to your phone for the moment.

Hopefully, you hadn’t just wasted your Friday night.

You got distracted on your social media and were quite startled when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, is this seat taken, love?” a smooth male British accent asked from beside you.

The accent was an immediate turn-on, not something you encountered often living an entire ocean away from England. 

You glanced up at him. The first thing you noticed was his pale blue eyes, striking even in the dim light. Although you couldn’t see him perfectly with the lights as low as they were, he was still definitely the hottest guy who had ever paid attention to you.

At that moment, you decided to go for it. You came to the sex club for a reason, after all.

“It’s not,” you told him with a smile.

“I’m Harrison,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Harrison. You’re far away from home,” you commented.

“I travel a lot for work,” he explained.

You wanted to ask more about him, but you weren’t sure what was appropriate to ask a sex club patron, eventually blurting out, “so, what brings you here?”

“You mean what brings me to a sex club?” he asked with a chuckle, raising his eyebrows.

“Sorry, I’ve never been to one of these before, and I’m a little nervous,” you said, sheepishly.

“Honestly, I haven’t either,” he confessed. “This isn’t like meeting girls in a pub. I guess I’ll just outright ask. Would you like to go to one of the private rooms with me?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more,” you answered, so excited at the prospect of what was about to happen that you almost knocked over your chair as you got up.

He laughed softly to himself at your eagerness.

You followed him across the main floor into one of the private rooms, shutting the door behind you.

The room was small. There was a padded bed with no bedding and a small table containing a bowl with packets of lube and condoms in it, with a wastebasket on the floor next to it. A TV mounted on the wall was showing the same low quality porn from the main floor.

You stood in front of him silently, started to fidget.

“So, uh…” you trailed off awkwardly.

Harrison opened and closed his mouth, looking a bit lost. He leaned down to kiss you, but immediately pulled away. “Shit, one second.”

You were momentarily worried that he’d changed his mind, but you were relieved when you saw he just went to the wastebasket to spit his gum out.

“Sorry about that. I’m usually smoother than this,” he apologized.

“I’m not, if we’re being perfectly honest here,” you admitted.

He chuckled. “Now, where were we?”

“Right about here,” you responded, leaning up to kiss him as he leaned down.

You met his soft and warm lips with your own. The kiss was never really chaste, his tongue quick to dart out and slip between your already parted lips. He tasted slightly cinnamony as he brushed his tongue unhurriedly against yours.

He moaned quietly into your mouth when you stopped being a passive partner, your tongue making its way into his mouth. You traced his perfect teeth, then explored his mouth slowly and thoroughly.

You lost track of time, completely engrossed in the kiss, only returning to awareness when his hands slid down your mostly bare back to squeeze and massage your ass through the thin material of your tight dress. He tugged you completely flush against him.

One of his hands slipped up underneath the hem of your dress, finding its way in-between your thighs from behind.

He broke the kiss, breathing a bit heavily, eyebrows raised. “You’re not wearing panties, darling?”

You grinned. “Where are we right now?”

He smiled back. “Point taken.”

You spread your legs as much as you could in the confines of your dress, to give him more room to work with, but it wasn’t enough for your liking.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, tugging the offending garment over your head.

He chuckled. “No bra either, I see. Not that I have a problem with that. Less in the way.”

His head dipped to take one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it. His fingers now easily found their way between your folds, going for your clit immediately and rubbing slickly around the sensitive nub.

“Oh my god.” Your knees started to buckle, but he fortunately stabilized you with his arm from behind.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he mumbled against the skin of your breast, two long fingers pressing into you while his thumb took over on your clit.

“Talk to me?” you requested breathily.

“Like dirty talk?” he clarified.

“Yeah,” you responded, nodding.

“Love how wet you are for me. Tight, too. Gonna have to loosen you up some first before I can get my cock into you, though.” A third finger pushed in, next to the other two, scissoring slightly as he continued to pump them in and out of you and rub your clit. “Your pussy will feel so fucking amazing around my cock, I can’t wait. I promise I’ll fill you up better than anyone else ever has.”

The combination of what he was doing with his hand and the dirty talk in his delicious accent had you close. “Want to cum, please, Harrison.”

“Well, since you asked me so nicely.” His thumb worked your clit faster, and he fingered you a bit rougher, aiming more directly for your g-spot.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you moaned as your climax hit you harder than a brick wall, burying your fingers in the fabric of Harrison’s shirt while the sparks of pleasure coursed through you.

As you came down from your high, his motions gentled, until he finally stopped. He let you slump against him bonelessly.

He lifted you like a limp ragdoll and carried you over to the bed, gently depositing you on it, before he stepped back to strip off his own clothes.

“Hey, what if I wanted to undress you?” you complained, watching as he kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt.

“You’re in no state to do that right now, and I’ve been dressed plenty long enough. I’m in town for another four weeks anyway, if you’re interested in a repeat performance,” he offered.

“We’ll see. You might have a disappointing dick,” you teased.

“I seriously doubt it, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.” He undid his pants and shucked them and his boxers at the same time.

You looked him over, from head to toe. He was leanly muscled, with endless planes of smooth skin waiting to be touched. It left you eager to get your hands on him. You saved what you hoped to be the best for last, and you definitely weren’t disappointed.

His cock rested against his stomach, looking achingly hard, precum glistening at the tip. It wasn’t huge by any stretch, but it would be more than enough to fill you up. Maybe not the most you’d ever been filled up, or enough to ruin you for other men for the rest of your life, but you knew you were going to leave the club a very satisfied woman.

“Like what you see?” he eventually asked.

“I do,” you replied, simply. “You should come over here now.”

He smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

You watched as he made a quick stop at the bowl of condoms and lube.

He grabbed a condom of the bowl, fumbling a bit because of how quickly he tried to remove it from the wrapper and roll it down his length. It was obvious that he was just as desperate for you as you were for him.

You spread your legs and waited impatiently for him to join you on the bed.

“Look so pretty like this,” he commented, hands brushing lightly against your knees as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“Thank you. If you want me to move some other way, I can. I mean I’m not sure what your favorite position is,” you said. “I’m happy with whatever you want.”

“This is perfect. Missionary is sort of underrated in my opinion,” he told you, lining himself up and pushing into you in one long thrust. After he was all the way in, he lowered himself on top of you and pressed a brief kiss to your lips. “Need me to stay still for a minute?”

“Thank you for offering, but I think I’m good,” you replied. “I really want you to move right now.”

“Your wish is my command.” He rocked his hips against yours slowly, increasing the length and speed of his thrusts gradually, until he was finally fucking you at a just about perfect pace and depth.

You rolled your hips back into his thrusts until you found a rhythm you both liked, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him tighter against you.

His mouth met yours in wet and sloppy kisses, sometimes barely more than moaning and breathing heavily into each other’s mouths.

You snaked a hand between your bodies to get yourself off again before he came, but he pushed it aside.

“Let me,” he breathed. His hand replaced yours, fingers collecting some of your wetness near your entrance. Then, he started rubbing slick circles around your clit.

“Getting close,” you told him as your second orgasm of the night approached. It came much quicker than you’d anticipated, and even harder than the first one.

Your body clenched and pulsed around his cock, milking him, and bringing him over the edge with you.

He came with a loud groan, thrusts growing rougher and more erratic as he spilled into the condom. When his climax finally ebbed, he collapsed on top of you.

A comfortable silence stretched between you as you both recovered, heart rates gradually slowing and breathing evening out.

“How do you feel about pancakes?” he eventually asked.

“Um, they’re fine, I guess?” you responded, confused. “What do pancakes have to do with anything?”

“That was me asking you if you want to join me at IHOP. I’m hungry, and I saw one around the corner. They’re open 24 hours,” he explained.

You laughed. “Sure, why not? Going to IHOP in the middle of the night with a guy I met at a sex club wearing a skimpy dress with nothing on underneath it probably wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

He smiled at you. “Sounds like you’ve got stories to tell me, pretty girl.”

“Sounds like I do,” you agreed, smiling back.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Serena x Felix Volturi

You rolled a ball point pen around the booth table. Your eyes on the window beside you, it was the only thing that separated you and the pouring rain. "Coffee, love?" The kind blonde waitress offered. You turned to look at her with a gentle smile. The woman was middle aged and was evidently tired. You were observant, so whilst it was apparent to you, no one else seemed to notice or care for that matter. "I'll just have a water, thank you." She nodded and moved on after jotting down your order. You looked down at your own notepad. You liked writing things down, whilst it wasn't always necessary, you did it as a comfort. The first note 'Contact Nahuel' and the second being 'Cupcake' followed by 'tape-STRONG'. The waitress returned with your water and you thanked her again. 

You heard a ringing erupt from your pocket. You dug in your jacket pocket to see your father's ID. "Father?" "Serena, have you heard from your brother?" "No. He doesn't particularly like me father." There was a silence on the other end. "What's wrong?" You asked. Your father asked you to do many things but when you were met with silence, something was bothering him. "He and that woman have ran off somewhere but I don't know where. I don't like it, Serena." He always spoke like that, as though he expected you to fix everything. You used to think it was since you were the eldest child but in the end it was because you were the most loyal. However you were growing tired of it all, your father, your sisters and your brother as well as Huilen. You felt welcomed by none and no longer did you want to be pushed around. No one knew that though. If anyone did, it would immediately mean someone would try to stop you because your father demands it. He didn't like his children far from him and Nahuel was far enough. Little did he know that you hoped to go much further. "Have you asked Jennifer? They're on good terms." You suggested. "I intend to." Your father replied. "She'll be home soon." "Well, let me know if you need any further assistance if Jenny isn't of much help." You grasped the pen knowing that it was completely empty and hoping you could pull through with having no intention of helping him. "I'll see you soon, my dearest." He said. "Goodbye." You hung up before he could say anything else and put your phone on silent. 

You weren't attached to your phone, in all honesty, having a phone just gave you more bother. You checked the time, three thirty in the afternoon. You lingered a little longer to finish your water before deciding to face the rain and get to the shops. By six in the evening you arrived home, greeted by emptiness and quiet. You flicked the light switch out of habit and put your bags on the counter. Your little apartment was cosy but only temporary and had sadly lost its touch since everything making it cosy was now in stacked in boxes, ready for the moving van to collect tomorrow morning. You had yet to pack up the kitchen so you decided you'd have a meal. You didn't eat human food every day. You did if blood wasn't an option which as of late, it wasn't. You wanted something simple though. You dug around the cupboards to find a sauce, a pasta sauce at that. You stared down at it for a moment. "Pasta, it is." You put the jar on the counter and hunted for pasta, ultimately finding spaghetti. You dug out your phone and lightly tossed it on the counter, not really caring if it broke or cracked. You noticed that you had a voicemail from your father. You put the voicemail on speaker, continuing to cook. "You have 1 new voice mail at 3:35pm. 'Dearest, I'm afraid you disconnected before I could wish you a happy birthday. I hope to hear from you soon, I love you. Happy birthday, goodbye.' End of-" You hung up. "Alright, alright, you did your job- now hush."  It was nice to know your father hadn't forgotten your birthday since you weren't around. You couldn't say you were a big fan of birthdays since you weren't going to run out of them. However, your father thought it important seeing as you and your siblings were half human. 

You enjoyed your pasta, intentionally avoiding your text messages. When you finally checked them, you felt completely justified for avoiding them. You had texts from your father and Maysun. That was when the guilt really hit you. It wasn't that you didn't love your father or Maysun. You loved them dearly as any daughter and older sister would. You followed your father blindly, and still continued to do so. You never questioned him once and yet you felt so damn unappreciated. You were never thanked by your father for raising his other children and his other children sure as hell never thanked you. Nahuel being the most unappreciative of them all. Your father didn't spend much time with Nahuel which surely caused Nahuel to stray but your father learned and made sure he was present for Jennifer to avoid her being left astray. Jennifer was Nahuel's favourite whilst you were the sister he disliked the most. Your personal opinion of him, you kept very private. You never uttered your feelings on him. He angered you how he could defy his father and for being so ungrateful towards you, it would have served him right if you had just neglected him. However, in saying that, you still loved Nahuel. Maysun had a way of working around Nahuel's stubborn ways. He was fond of her but kept her at a distance. Maysun was trouble to raise, defiant, but she did as she was asked even if she had her moments where she'd forget just who kept her alive. Whilst Jennifer was the Golden child who got everyone's attention. The first text was from your father. "Jennifer has not heard from your brother. This worries me." The second from Maysun. "Father has been talking about you a lot. I think he fears you're growing distant. Is everything alright?" Maysun always asked if you were alright even though it was an empty question, she didn't care for the answer. Truth be told, you knew that none of your siblings liked you which was a lonely predicament to be in. You were too devoted, too much like your father. It was typical, your sisters never called because they knew you'd answer. Texting you, meant they didn't care for a reply and knew that you didn't respond to texts. With impeccable timing, you got an incoming call from your father. You immediately picked up. "Father, my apologies, I just checked my phone-" "Serena, where are you?" Your father sounded on edge which always lead to a string of demands. "I-I can't tell you that." "What? Serena, this is no time for games. I want you home- now." You stopped listening but could hear Jennifer and Maysun in the background whilst your father got angered and had begun to speak to you very rudely. You took the phone away from your ear and bit your lip as you hung up on him. 'This wasn't permanent.' You told yourself. 'You just needed some time.' 

You went back into the kitchen and to get a small cupcake. You bought a packet of small candles intended for celebration cakes but you only needed one. You got your lighter and set it alight, smiling to yourself as you bent down to lean on the counter just to watch the candle for a moment. You told yourself what you told your siblings to do when growing up. Make a wish. You paused keeping a wish in mind before blowing out the candles. Your wish? That something good would happen to you. Something, life changing. Once you enjoyed your little birthday treat, you cleaned up and packed up the kitchen, taping shut the remaining boxes with the tape you had bought earlier that day.

You had decided on the outskirts of Italy, figuring it wouldn't be an obvious place to start looking for you. You took in the empty apartment which was now your new home, already planning how you'd decorate it. Settling in was slow but not too slow. In fact, you enjoyed the speed everything was falling into place. Not long after that, you began to explore Italy, your next stop being Volterra. It did more than impress. It was lovely how history felt locked in every stone. You didn't have as much experience as others. You were born in 1810 but nevertheless, you were old enough to notice drastic changes in societies. Whilst Volterra had new people, it looked encapsulated in time. You appreciated that indeed. 

You slowed to a stop, feeling someone watching you. You slowly turned and saw a very tall man, dressed in grey staring at you and looking slightly puzzled. You were certain your expression mirrored his for a moment. This was a vampire who was staring at you and quite frankly, you didn't know the protocol for strange men staring at you, not to mention a vampire. Slowly, walked away and to your relief, nobody stopped you and nobody followed you. You saw him twice after that. The second encounter you offered him a quick hello but took off before anything further could be said. However, this time you decided to properly speak to him. When you saw him you came up behind him and tapped his back. He turned to look down at you. "Oh, you again. Well if this is going to be a regular occurrence then I believe we should be on first name basis." "My name is Serena...and you are?" He looked at you as you waited for a response. "Wait, really? You don't know my name?" "Well, I don't believe we've met before-." You began but were cut off. "But surely you know of my coven, that's usually as enough information as anyone needs." You looked him you and down and shook your head. "Really? Woah, then my name is Felix. Felix Volturi. I'm a guard for the Volturi coven. I don't believe I got a last name off of you?" "I don't think I have one. Is Volturi your real last name?" Felix shook his head. "No. It's just easier saying that's our last names because a lot of us don't have a last name or we didn't like it. You know how it is." You nodded. "Nice to meet you. I'm sorry, I haven't heard of your coven before. My father..." You caught yourself. "He's never mentioned you." "You're a hybrid, aren't you?" Felix asked and you nodded. "The first. Are hybrids common?" "Hell no." Felix chuckled. "We didn't know hybrids were possible to until four days ago. Do you know the Cullen's?" You shook your head. "Wow, you are kept in the dark- pardon my saying so." "Don't worry about it. My father intended it that way." "huh. Anyway, there are around five that we know of, six now that you're here. You say you were the first?" "Yeah. I was born in 1810, my father is a scientist. I have two sisters and a brother, they're hybrids too." Felix furrowed his brow. "Sorry, a brother? What is his name? We may know him." "His name is Nahuel." "Ah, yes. We met him a little under a week ago. So there is five hybrids then. Forgive me, I must head back but I'm sure this won't be our last meeting. I hope to see you soon, Serena."

Felix returned the night after, seeking you out with a blonde man you didn't know. "How,- how did you know where I live?" You completely forgot pleasantries. "It's nice to see you too." Felix smirked. "This is Demetri, he's a tracker- the best in the world." Demetri nodded to you with a small yet still charming smile. "Our master, Aro, would like to meet you. He sent us to fetch you." "oh-" A buzzing interrupted you. You leaned to the counter beside your open door, reaching for your phone. Your stomach sank a little to receive another call from your father. You hated how furious he was with you and so you immediately wanted to flee the situation. Luckily, Felix and Demetri had given you an opportunity. "Everything alright?" Demetri peered at you, noticing the small spasms in your face as you tried to void any expression. You nodded quickly, putting the phone in your back pocket. "Yeah, and alright. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to meet him." "We should have you back by dark so you do not need to worry." Demetri assured you.

Meeting the three Volturi leaders was strange. They seemed to be in a bad mood, collectively, yet the dark haired man who introduced himself as Aro was by far the most unsettling. He tried to hide his mood which only concocted a sinister smile. He asked for your hand which you reluctantly gave him. You didn't know why he wanted your hand but it didn't take long for the guesses to come flooding in. "Ah, sister of Nahuel...Serena. I am pleased we have made your acquaintance." "Pleasure to meet you sir, Felix told me you met my little brother not too long ago." "Indeed, we did." Aro titled his head. "You were the first of four. Joham has been...keeping secrets." "Four of them, at least." The blonde said from his throne in a tone of disgust. Aro continued. "Experiments, you were watched over Joham for the purpose of science. Your siblings see errors in his ways yet you remain loyal. It deteriorated your bond with them." "He's my father, it isn't my place to move against him. I love him dearly." "I'm certain my brothers would agree with me when I say that such loyalty is very much admirable, my dear." Aro looked up from your hand as his brothers on his thrones hummed in a chorus of boredom, approval, agreement and yet still bland in tone. "Yet...you avoid him now as of recently?" You couldn't respond, you didn't entirely understand it yourself. Your gaze lowered to the floor, ashamed. "I'd like to ask that you stay with us for a short time. We have recently become aware of hybrids and I'd like to learn more." You wanted to say no. You never stayed anywhere that wasn't your own home. That was simply just your personality. However, you couldn't help but notice Aro's stare. Bad things would happen if you refused. You didn't want the trouble and you were well acquainted with being a subject. You slowly nodded and even thanked him. He lit up, excited by the opportunities ahead of him.

It became a routine. Aro documented everything about you to the tiniest detail. Once the interrogation was over, you avoided any eye contact with the twins, Caius and Marcus who you weren't even sure was aware of your presence. Then at night, you'd spend time with Felix. Felix was completely opposite of you. You were used to being depended on, responsible, after a lifetime of bringing up your siblings. You didn't really laugh or really get animated with anything you did. Felix was the opposite. He left his responsibility at the door. He was loud, and goofy. You began to think it was a nice connection you had with one another. You balanced each other out.

It was slow and then all at once. You don't knew when you got so attached to him. He noticed it before you did and when he did, he seemed to grow attached to you too. At nights, he'd tell you stories about the days before you were born and you'd be very attentive. However, you noticed that he didn't particularly want to hear about your father. Whereas, he could listen to you talk about yourself for hours. You asked him about it and he answer surprised you. He said he didn't like the dynamic between yourself and your father. You didn't ask him further though you did wonder if perhaps he senses the same discomfort that you did.

One day, Felix rushed into your room, making you jump. "Felix? What's wrong?" You rose to a stand, ready to do whatever he needs. "Serena, sit down. I need to speak with you." Felix pushed you back down before sitting beside you. "Do you remember that I told you we met your brother first?" You nodded, furrowing your brow in confusion. "He told us about your father and your siblings. I hadn't realized who you were until you mentioned your brother. Aro approached your father who became very very erratic when he heard you were with us. He'd been running from us for a long time-" "the bad people..." You mumbled, your eyes falling to the floor as you pieced together that you were living with the very people you had been running from since you were born. "They came to an agreement, Serena. In return for us to leave him be, Joham has offered you to Aro so that he can learn about hybrids." "What do you mean he's offered me?" "He doesn't expect you back. You've to stay here from now on." You inhaled sharply. A sentence you never thought you'd say tumbled out of your mouth before you could even think. "I wasn't his to give." Before you could follow that train of thought, Felix lifted your face so that you were looking at him. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Serena."

You hated that your father had taken the choice from you for his own benefit but you couldn't hate him, or hold it against him. However, he couldn't say the same for you. About an hour later, you received one last voicemail from your father, one that wasn't kind or showing remorse. Demetri didn't even let you hear the whole thing, as he took your phone, covering it with his hand and shook his head solemnly before silencing it. Demetri was the next to console you, warming up to you when hearing all good things from Felix.

Things got better, your heavy chest lifting after a while. Soon enough, you had begun to distance yourself from what happened. You weren't angry with him you still loved him dearly but you accepted that he didn't want to speak to you. You had wanted to leave, you weren't secretive about it but you were very respectful. You wanted to carry on your journey to see the world, something the Volturi couldn't provide. However, you still made your loyalties known. You told the leaders that you'd return whenever they liked. That you'd be apart of their coven if they liked as long as they provided you an open freedom. Decisions had begun to be made when Felix asked you about your last name.  "Have you never thought about a last name? It'd be more beneficial to you since your half human in comparison to us." You shook your head. "No. Do you think I should?" "Well you offered to join us so naturally your name would be Serena Volturi." You cracked a smile. "Cute. Thank you for naming me." You put your head on Felix's shoulder. Felix chuckled. "I'm going to miss you. Are you sure I can't change your mind?" "How about this, I'll tell you something very personal about me. Judging by what you think afterwards, I'll stay. Sound fair?" "Definitely, am I going to hear a secret? I love secrets." Felix grinned. He tugged you toward him, urging you to tell him, his hands on your hips.

You looped your arms around Felix's neck, holding him close. "So when I was a little girl, every birthday was celebrated and just as my father had told me to blow out a candle. I told my siblings the same thing. We eventually learned about the cake part but anyways, call it sentiment or sadness, i wasn't home for my birthday this year and I bought myself a cupcake and got a candle. It was the closest thing to home I had. Just as ritual, I made a wish and blew out the candle. In the past I'd wish for a unicorn and a superhero cape." Felix chuckled with you at that. "Of course, they never came true and so this year is the first year my wish came true." "Oh? What did you wish for?" Felix leaned in to press his face against your cheek. "I wished that something different would happen." "Different can mean a lot of things, my dear." Felix smiled against your cheek. "I know, which is why I was a little more specific. I wished for something good and different to happen to me." You moved your hand to lift Felix's face so he would look at you, your hand then testing on his cheek. "I never thought for a second it would come true yet it did, and in the form of you." Felix leaned against your hand. "Now, how do you expect me to respond to that?" Felix grinned, pulling you closer to him. "Consider me thoroughly seduced but I should let you know something." Felix took hold of your jaw holding his gaze on you. "I adore you." You were surprised when he pulled you in for a passionate kiss, as though trying to show you what your words meant to him. "I shall also add that I don't think I can let you leave now." "Oh?" You smiled. Felix hummed whilst nodding. "Absolutely. I'd be a fool to let you go. I had doubts that I could let you leave but after that, it's simply not a possibility." Felix blinked. "Hey! Did you two hear what she said!?" "I most certainly did." "Hell yeah!" Two new voices said and suddenly Demetri and Santiago turned the corner. You blushed a little. "I need to find a mate like this one. She has set the bar. My heart was swooning and it wasn't even being said to me." Demetri put a hand to his chest and shook his head as though to clear his head of a haze. Both Demetri and Felix did a double take looking at Santiago. "Santiago, are you alright?" Santiago blinked. "Oh, I'm fine. I'm just falling in love, one sentence at a time." "By all means, look but don't touch." Felix grinned, pulling you tightly to him again. "I won this beauty over fair and square. I'll be damned if I don't show her off."

[john-carter-was-here]

Excerpts from the Notebooks of Lazarus Long

Stolen from: Time Enough For Love by Robert A. Heinlein

 Always store beer in a dark place.

 By the data to date, there is only one animal in the Galaxy dangerous to man – man himself. So he must supply his own indispensable competition. He has no enemy to help him.

 Men are more sentimental than women. It blurs their thinking.

 Certainly the game is rigged. Don’t let that stop you; if you don’t bet, you can’t win.

 Any priest or shaman must be presumed guilty until proved innocent.

 Always listen to experts. They’ll tell you what can’t be done, and why. Then do it.

 Get a shot off fast. This upsets him long enough to let you make your second shot perfect.

 There is no conclusive evidence of life after death. But there is no evidence of any sort against it. Soon enough you will know. So why fret about it?

 If it can’t be expressed in figures, it is not science; it is opinion.

 It has been long known that one horse can run faster than another–but which one? Differences are crucial.

 A fake fortuneteller can be tolerated. But an authentic soothsayer should be shot on sight. Cassandra did not get half the kicking around she deserved.

 Delusions are often functional. A mother’s opinions about her children’s beauty, intelligence, goodness, et cetera ad nauseam, keep her from drowning them at birth.

 Most “scientists” are bottle washers and button sorters.

 A “pacifist male” is a contradiction in terms. Most self- described “pacifists” are not pacific; they simply assume false colors. When the wind changes, they hoist the Jolly Roger.

 Nursing does not diminish the beauty of a woman’s breasts; it enhances their charm by making them looked lived in and happy.

 A generation which ignores history has no past–and no future.

 A poet who reads his verse in public may have other nasty habits.

 What a wonderful world it is that has girls in it!

 Small change can often be found under seat cushions.

 History does not record anywhere at any time a religion that has any rational basis. Religion is a crutch for people not strong enough to stand up to the unknown without help. But, like dandruff, most people do have a religion and spend time and money on it and seem to derive considerable pleasure from fiddling with it.

 It’s amazing how much “mature wisdom” resembles being too tired.

 If you don’t like yourself, you can’t like other people.

 Your enemy is never a villain in his own eyes. Keep this in mind; it may offer a way to make him your friend. If not, you can kill him without hate–and quickly.

 A motion to adjourn is always in order.

 No state has an inherent right to survive through conscript troops and, in the long run, no state ever has. Roman matrons used to say to their sons: “Come back with your shield, or on it.” Later on, this custom declined. So did Rome.

 Of all the strange “crimes” that human beings have legislated out of nothing, “blasphemy” is the most amazing – with “obscenity” and “indecent exposure” fighting it out for second and third place.

 Cheops Law: Nothing ever gets built on schedule or within budget.

 It is better to copulate than never.

 All societies are based on rules to protect pregnant women and young children. All else is surplusage, excrescence, adornment, luxury, or folly which can–and must–be dumped in emergency to preserve this prime function. As racial survival is the only universal morality, no other basic is possible. Attempts to formulate a “perfect society” on any foundation other than “Women and children first!” is not only witless it is automatically genocidal. Nevertheless, starry-eyed idealists (all of them male) have tried endlessly–and no doubt will keep on trying.

 All men are created unequal.

 Money is a powerful aphrodisiac. But flowers work almost as well.

 A brute kills for pleasure. A fool kills from hate.

 There is only one way to console a widow. But remember the risk.

 When the need arises–and it does–you must be able to shoot your own dog. Don’t farm it out–that doesn’t make it nicer; it makes it worse.

 Everything in excess! To enjoy the flavor of life, take big bites. Moderation is for monks.

 It may be better to be a live jackal than a dead lion, but it is better still to be a live lion. And usually easier.

 One man’s theology is another man’s belly laugh.

 Sex should be friendly. Otherwise stick to mechanical toys; it’s more sanitary.

 Men rarely(if ever) manage to dream up a god superior to themselves. Most gods have the manners and morals of a spoiled child.

 Never appeal to a man’s “better nature.” He may not have one. Invoking self-interest gives you more leverage.

 Little girls, like butterflies, need no excuse.

 You can have peace. Or you can have freedom. Don’t ever count on having both at once.

 Avoid making irrevocable decisions while tired or hungry. N.B.: Circumstances can force your hand. So think ahead!

 Place your clothes and weapons where you can find them in the dark.

 An elephant: A mouse built to government specifications.

 Throughout history, poverty is the normal condition of man. Advances which permit this norm to be exceeded–here and there, now and then– are the work of an extremely small minority, frequently despised, often condemned, and almost always opposed by all right thinking people. Whenever this tiny minority is kept from creating, or (as sometimes happens) is driven out of a society, the people then slip back into abject poverty.  This is known as “bad luck.”

 In a mature society, “civil servant” is semantically equal to “civil master.”

 When a place gets crowded enough to required ID’s, social collapse is not far away. It is time to go elsewhere. The best thing about space travel is that it made it possible to go elsewhere.

 A woman is not property, and husbands who think otherwise are living in a dreamworld.

 The second best thing about space travel is that the distances involved make war a very difficult, usually impractical, and almost always unnecessary. This is probably a loss for most people, since war is our race’s most popular diversion, one which gives purpose and color to dull and stupid lives. But it is a great boon to the intelligent man who fights only when he must–never for sport.

 A zygote is a gamete’s way of producing more gametes. This may be the purpose of the universe.

 There are hidden contradictions in the minds of people who “love Nature” while deploring the “artificialities” with which “Man has spoiled ‘Nature.’” The obvious contradiction lies in their choice of words, which imply that man and his artifacts are not part of “Nature”–but beavers and their dams are. But the contradictions go deeper than this prima-facie absurdity. In declaring his love for a beaver dam (erected by beavers for beavers’ purposes) and his hatred for dams erected by men (for the purpose of men) the “Naturist” reveals his hatred of his own race –i.e. his own self-hatred.  In the case of “Naturists” such self-hatred is understandable; they are such a sorry lot. But hatred is too strong an emotion to feel toward them; pity and contempt are the most they rate.  As for me, willy-nilly I am a man, not a beaver, and H. sapiens is the only race I have or can have. Fortunately for me I like being part of a race made of men women –it strikes me as a fine arrangement and perfectly “natural.”  Believe it or not, there were “Naturists” who opposed the first flight to old Earth’s Moon as being “unnatural” and a “despoiling of Nature.”

 “No man is an island–” Much as we may feel and act as individuals, our race is a single organism, always growing and branching– which must be pruned regularly to be healthy. This necessity need not be argued; anyone with eyes can see that any organism which grows without limit always dies in its own poisons. The only rational question is whether pruning is best done before or after birth.  Being an incurable sentimentalist I favor the former of these methods – killing makes me queasy, even when it’s a case of “He’s dead and I’m alive and that’s the way I wanted it to be.”  But this may be a mater of taste. Some shaman think that it is better to be in a war, or to die in childbirth, or to starve in misery, than never to have lived at all. They may be right.  But I don’t have to like it – and I don’t.

 Democracy is based on the assumption that a million men are wiser than one man. How’s that again? I missed something.

 Autocracy is based on the assumption that one man is wiser than a million men. Let’s play that over again too. Who decides?

 Any government will work if authority and responsibility are equal and coordinate. This does not insure “good” government; it simply insures that it will work. But such governments are rare – most people want to run things but want no part of the blame. This used to be called the “backseat-driver syndrome.”

 What are the facts? Again and again and again – what are the facts? Shun wishful thinking, ignore divine revelation, forget what the “the stars foretell,” avoid opinion, care not what the neighbors think, never mind the unguessable “verdict of history” – what are the facts, and to how many decimal places? You pilot always into an unknown future; facts are your single clue. Get the facts!

 Stupidity cannot be cured with money, or through education, or by legislation. Stupidity is not a sin, the victim can’t help being stupid. But stupidity is the only universal capital crime; the sentence is death, there is no appeal, and execution is carried out automatically and without pity.

 God is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent – it says so right here on the label. If you have a mind capable of believing all three of these diving attributes simultaneously, I have a wonderful bargain for you. No checks, please. Cash and in small bills.

 Courage is the complement of fear. A man who is fearless cannot be courageous. (He is also a fool.)

 The two highest achievements of the human mind are the twin concepts of “loyalty” and “duty.” Whenever these twin concepts fall into disrepute– get out of there fast! You may possibly save yourself, but it is too late to save that society. It is doomed.

 People who go broke in a big way never miss any meals. It is the poor jerk who is shy by half a slug who must tighten his belt.

 The truth of a proposition has nothing to do with its credibility. And vice versa.

 Anyone who cannot cope with mathematics is not fully human. At best he is a tolerable subhuman who has learned to wear shoes, bathes, and not make messes in the house.

 Moving parts in rubbing contact require lubrication to avoid excessive wear. Honorifics and formal politeness provide lubrication where people rub together. Often the very young, the untraveled, the naive, the unsophisticated deplore these formalities as “empty,” “meaningless,” or “dishonest.” and scorn to use them. No matter how “pure” their motives, they thereby throw sand into machinery that does not work too well at best.

 A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, built a wall, set a bon, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

 The more you love, the more you can love – the more intensely you love. Nor is there any limit on how many you can love. If a person had time enough, he could love all of that majority who are decent and just.

Masturbation is cheap, clean, convient, and free of any possibility of wrongdoing–and you don’t have to go home in the cold. But it’s lonely.

 Beware of altruism. It is based on self-deception, the root of all evil.

 If tempted by something that feels “altruistic,” examine your motives and root out that self-deception. Then if you still want to do it, wallow in it!

 The most preposterous notion that H. sapiens has ever dreamed up is that the Lord God of Creation, Shaper and Ruler of all the Universes, wants the saccharine adoration of His creatures, can be swayed by their prayers, and becomes petulant if He does not receive this flattery. Yet this absurd fantasy, without a shred of evidence to bolster it, pays all the expense of the oldest, largest, and least productive industry in all history.

 The second most preposterous notion is that copulation is inherently sinful.

 Writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of – but do it in private and was your hands afterwards.

$100 placed at 7 percent interest compounded quarterly for 200 years will increase to more that $100,000,000 – by which time it will be worth nothing.

 Dear, don’t bore him with trivia or burden him with your past mistakes. The happiest way to deal with a man is never to tell him anything he does not need to know.

Darling, a true lady takes off her dignity with her clothes and does her whorish best. At other times you can be as modest and dignified as your person requires.

 Everybody lies about sex.

 If men were the automatons that behaviorists claim they are, the behaviorist psychologists could not have invented the amazing nonsense called “behaviorist psychology.” So they are wrong from scratch – as clever and as wrong as phlogiston chemists.

 The shamans are forever yacking about their snake-oil “miracles.” I prefer the Real McCoy – a pregnant woman.

 If the universe has any purpose more important than topping a woman you love and making a baby with her hearty help, I’ve never heard of it.

 Thou shalt remember the  Eleventh Commandment and keep it Wholly.

 A touchstone to determing the actual worth of an “intellectual” – find out how he feels about astrology.

 Taxes are not levied for the benefit of the taxed.

 There is no such thing as “social gambling.” Either you are there to cut the other bloke’s heart out and eat it – or you’re a sucker. If you don’t like this choice – don’t gamble.

 When the ship lifts, all bills are paid. No regrets.

 The first time I was a drill instructor I was too inexperienced for the job – the things I taught those lads must have got some of them killed. War is too serious a matter to be taught by the inexperienced.

 A competent and self-confident person is incapable of jealous in anything. Jealousy is invariably a symptom of neurotic insecurity.

 Money is the sincerest of all flatter.  Women love to be flattered.  So do men.

 You live and learn. Or you don’t live long.

 Whenever women have insisted on absolute equality with men, they have invariably wound up with the dirty end of the stick. What they are and what they can do makes them superior to men, and their proper tactic is to demand special privileges, all the traffic will bear. They should never settle merely for equality. For women, “equality” is a disaster.

 Peace is an extension of war by political means. Plenty of elbowroom is pleasanter – and much safer.

 One man’s “magic” is another man’s engineering. “Supernatural” is a null word.

 The phrase “we (I) (you) simply must –” designates something that need not be done. “That goes without saying ” is a read warning. “Of Course” means you had best check it yourself. These small-change cliches and others like them, when read correctly, are reliable channel markers.

 Do not handicap your children by making their lives easy.

 Rub her feet.

 If you happen to be one of the fretful minority who can do creative work, never force an idea; you’ll abort it if you do. Be patient and you’ll give birth to it when the time is ripe. Learn to wait.

 Never crowd youngsters about their private affairs – sex especially. When they are growing up, they are never ends all over, and resent (quite properly) any invasion of their privacy. Oh, sure, they’ll make mistakes – but that’s their business, not yours. (You made your own mistakes, did you not ?)

 Never underestimate the power of human stupidity.

More from the Notebooks of Lazarus Long

 Always tell her she is beautiful, especially if she is not.

 If you are part of a society that votes, the do so. There may be no candidates and no measures you want to vote for … but there are certain to be ones you want to vote against. In case of doubt, vote against. By this rule you rarely go wrong.  If this is too blind for your taste, consult some well-meaning fool (there is always one around) and ask his advice. Then vote the other way. This enables you to be a good citizen (if such is your wish) without spending the enormous amount of time on it that truly intelligent exercise of franchise requires.

 Sovereign ingredient for a happy marriages: Pay cash or do without. Interest charges not only eat up a household budget; awareness of debt eats up domestic felicity.

 Those who refuse to support and defend a state have no claim to protection by that state. Killing an anarchist or a pacifist should not be defined as “murder” in a legalistic sense. The offense against the state, if any, should be “Using deadly weapons inside city limits,” or “Creating a traffic hazard,” or “Endangering bystanders,” or other misdemeanor.  However, the state may reasonably place a closed season on these exotic asocial animals whenever they are in danger of becoming extinct. An authentic buck pacifist has rarely been seen off Earth, and it is doubtful that any have survived the trouble there . . regrettable, as they had the biggest mouths and smallest brains of any of the primates.  The small-mouthed variety of anarchist has spread through the Galaxy at the very wave front of the Diaspora; there is no need to protect them. But they often shoot back.

 Another ingredient for a happy marriage: Budget the luxuries first!

 And still another– See to it that she has her own desk – then keep your hands off it!

 And another– In a family argument, if it turns out you are right – apologize at once!

"God split himself into a myriad parts that he might have friends.“ This may not be true, but it sounds good – and is no sillier than any other theology.

 To stay young requires unceasing cultivation of the ability to unlearn old falsehoods.

Does history record any case in which the majority was right?

When the fox gnaws – smile!

A "critic” is a man who creates nothing and thereby feels qualified to judge the work of creative men. There is logic in this; he is unbiased – he hates all creative people equally.

 Money is truthful. If a man speaks of his honor, make him pay cash.

 Never frighten a little man. He’ll kill you.

 Only a sadistic scoundrel – or a fool – tells the bald truth on social occasions.

 This sad little lizard told me that he was a brontosaurus on his mother’s side. I did not laugh; people who boast of ancestry often have little else to sustain them. Humoring them costs nothing and adds to happiness in a world in which happiness is always in short supply.

 In handling a stinging insect, move very slowly.

 To be “matter of fact” about the world is to blunder into fantasy – and dull fantasy at that, as the real world is strange

and wonderful.

 The difference between science and the fuzzy subjects is that science requires reasoning, while the other subjects merely require scholarship.

 Copulation is spiritual in essence – or it is merely friendly exercise. On second thought, strike out “merely.” Copulation is not “merely” – even when it is just a happy pastime for two strangers. But copulation at its spiritual best is so much more than physical coupling that it is different in kind as well as in degree.  The saddest feature of homosexuality is not that is “wrong” or “sinful” or even that it can’t lead to progeny – but that it is more difficult to reach through it this spiritual union. Not impossible – but the cars are stacked against it.  But – most sorrowfully – many people never achieve spiritual sharing even with the help of male-female advantage; they are condemned to wander through life alone.

 Touch is the most fundamental sense. A baby experiences it, all over, before he is born and long before he learns to use sight, hearing, or taste, and no human ever ceases to need it. Keep your children short on pocket money – but long on hugs.

 Secrecy is the beginning of tyranny.

 The greatest productive force is human selfishness.

 Be wary of strong drink. It can make you shoot at tax collectors – and miss.

 The profession of shaman has many advantages. It offers high status with a safe livelihood free of work in the dreary, sweaty sense. In most societies it offers legal privileges and immunities not granted to other men. But it is hard to see how a man who has been given a mandate from on High to spread tidings of joy to all mankind can be seriously interested in taking up a collection to pay his salary; it causes one to suspect that the shaman is on the moral level of any other con man.  But it’s lovely work if you can stomach it.

 A whore should be judged by the same criteria as other professionals offering services for pay – such as dentists, lawyers, hairdressers, physicians, plumbers, etc. Is she professionally competent? Does she give good measure? Is she honest with her clients?  It is possible that the percentage of honest and competent whores is higher than that of plumbers and much higher than that of lawyers. And enormously higher than that of professors.

 Minimize your therbligs until it becomes automatic; this doubles your effective lifetime – and thereby gives time to enjoy butterflies and kittens and rainbows.

 Have you noticed how much they look like orchids? Lovely!

 Expertise in one field does not carry over into other fields. But experts often think so. The narrower their field of knowledge the more likely they are to think so.

 Never try to outstubborn a cat.

 Tilting at windmills hurts you more than the windmills.

 Yield to temptation; it may not pass your way again.

 Waking a person unnecessarily should not be considered a capital crime. For a first offense, that is.

 “Go to hell!” or other insult direct is all the answer a snoopy questions rates.

 The correct way to punctuate a sentence that starts :“Of course it is none of my business but –” is to place a period after the word “but.” Don’t use excessive force in supplying such moron with a period. Cutting his throat is only a momentary pleasure and is bound to get you talked about.

 A man does not insist on physical beauty in a woman who builds up his morale. After a while he realizes that she is beautiful – he just hadn’t noticed it at first.

 A skunk is better company than a person who prides himself on being “frank.”

 “All’s fair in love and war ” – what a contemptible lie!

 Beware of the “Black Swan” fallacy. Deductive logic is tautological; there is no way to get a new truth out of it, and it manipulates false statements as readily as true ones. If you fail to remember this, it can trip you – with perfect logic. The designers of the earliest computers called this the “Gigo Law”; i.e., “Garbage in, garbage out.”

 Inductive logic is much more difficult – but can produce new truths.

 A “practical joker” deserves applause for his wit according to his quality. Bastinado is about right. For exceptional wit one might grant keelhauling. But staking him out on an anthill should be reserved for the very wittiest.

 Natural laws have no pity.

 On the planet Tranquille around KM849(G-O) lives a little animal known as a “knafn.” It is herbivorous and has no natural enemies and is easily approached and may be petted – sort of a six-legged puppy with scales. Stroking it is very pleasant; it wiggles its pleasure and broadcast euphoria in some band that humans can detect. It’s worth the trip.  Someday some bright boy will figure out how to record this broadcast, then some smart boy will see commercial angles – and not longer after that it will be regulated and taxed.  In the meantime I have faked that name and catalog number; it is several thousand light-years off in another direction. Selfish of me –

 Freedom begins when you tell Mrs. Grundy to go fly a kite.

 Take car of the cojones and the frijoles will take car of themselves. Try to have getaway money – but don’t be fanatic about it.

 If “everybody knows” such-and-such, then it ain’t so, by at least ten thousand to one.

 Political tags – such as royalist, communist, democrat, populist, fascist, liberal, conservative, and so forth – are never basic criteria. The human race divides politically into those who want people to be controlled and those who have no such desire. The former are idealists acting from the highest motives for the greatest good of the greatest number. The latter are surly curmudgeons, suspicious and lacking in altruism. But they are more comfortable neighbors than the other sort.

 All cats are not gray after midnight. Endless variety–

 Sin lies only in hurting other people unnecessarily. All other “sins” are invented nonsense. (Hurting yourself is not sinful – just stupid.)

 Being generous is inborn; being altruistic is a learned perversity. No resemblance –

 It is impossible for a man to love his wife wholeheartedly without loving all women somewhat. I suppose that the converse must be true of women.

 You can go wrong by being too skeptical as readily as by being too trusting.

 Formal courtesy between a husband and wife is even more important than it is between strangers.

 Anything free is worth what you pay for it.

 Don’t store garlic near other victuals.

 Climate is what we expect, weather is what we get.

 Pessimist by policy, optimist by temperament – it is possible to be both. How? By never taking an unnecessary chance and by minimizing risks you can’t avoid. This permits you to play out the game happily, untroubled by the certainty of the outcome.

 Do not confuse “duty” with what other people expect of you; they are utterly different. Duty is a debt you owe to yourself to fulfill obligations you have assumed voluntarily. Paying that debt can entail anything from years of patient work to instant willingness to die. Difficult it may be, but the reward is self-respect.  But there is no reward at all for doing what other people expect of you, and to do so is not merely difficult, but impossible. It is easier to deal with a footpad than it is with the leech who wants “just a few minutes of your time, please – this won’t take long.” Time is your total capital, and the minutes of your life are painfully few. If you allow yourself to fall into the vice of agreeing to such requests, they quickly snowball to the point where these parasites will use up 100 percent of your time – and squawk for more!  So learn to say No – and to be read about it when necessary.

 Otherwise you will not have time to carry out your duty, or to do your own work, and certainly no time for live and happiness. The termites will nibble away your life and leave none of it for you.  (This rule does not mean that you must not do a favor for a friend, or even a stranger. But let the choice be yours. Don’t do it because it is “expected” of you.)

  "I came, I saw, she conquered.“ (The original Latin seems to have been garbled.)

  A committee is a life form with six or more legs and no brain.

 Animals can be driven crazy by place too many in too small a pen. Homo sapiens is the only animals that voluntarily does this to himself.

Don’t try to have the last word. You might get it.

[suddenly-n-octopus]

I would like to see answers for all. :3

For you? Always.flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself? “Please dont throw your looooove away–please dont throw your loooooove away”

fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know? If she would ever chose to be with me.

daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life? I dont have one. I dont even know what that is.

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?My best friend and I talking about our fears in meeting each other finally. They turned out to be the same for her and after all this time i was surprised she still felt the same way. It may not happen but it felt good that she still considered the idea.(that context though)

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Yes.

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things? Make a popular selling video game. Turn said videogame into an on-going multi seasoned series/anime. Own an Owl.

pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail. She calls herself a panda,she loves books and chocolate. Dawson’s creek and gilmore girls are her go to shows. She can get tunnel vision when she gets angry. She hates her middle name with a passion. Shes a pyromaniac. Opal is one of her all time favorite stones. She cant dance. Can hold her liquor for a while. She has been an author, violinist, jeweler, carpenter, mechanic, pharmacy tech, and now a dispatcher. She’s tired. 

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood? I sorta didnt.

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person? Thanksgiving

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them.My best friend, ironically she lives in an area where the sky could be seen without the city lights interfering. I mean…its stargazing, you’d want someone you love to be with you to watch them right? we’d look at the stars and talk about them and their meanings..or rather what we thought would be their meanings with me mostly making terrible jokes.

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?Yes

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you? Um. *waits* its 3a.m. now so ..you. You are a kind friend to me. I am grateful.

handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom? Thats easy, i say it to myself daily when i think about this question. To my best friend: I love you for until always.

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes? Underrated and beautiful. FUCK.

sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally. “That doesnt go there” -story of my life.

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far? HA.. “That doesnt go there”

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars? Thats a long one, first id go see my best friend..give her family money, pay mine and my mother’s bills, buy a place for my mom and sis, then buy a place for me, get a transplant for my kidney and pancreas, buy some waffles, pay for my sister’s college.

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way? I am not.

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self Save your money. Find her.Go to the doctor as much as possible. find her. listen and remember what grandaddy is teaching you. show him that you arent a waste of his knowledge. find her. say yes when the time comes. dont let friendship ruin your chance to finish. find her dammit. fucking find her. keep up with all of your games, dont trust anyone where you leave them. tell uncle joe you love him. tell tiffany that you like her too. but find her. watch the tribe more and find her. dont let them get to you. you arent trying to be white. you are being yourself because thats how you were raised. find her please.

.pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel? Pastel probably.

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain i love tattoos and would lke to get some of my own but i dont heal well anymore. i think they express a lot about yourself and what you love.

.piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not? Nah…i mean..should i??? my lashes are all natural honey :o

bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way. I dont have a song that has affected my life.

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them. Chaos is inevitable, all men must die. 

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel.Never been to one QQ

grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?Irina, a friend of mine who disappeared some years ago. She promised me that she wouldnt do so and…i havent gotten over that so the letter would be telling me where she is and if she is okay. I miss her.

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised? I have a fold out table where my laptop sits. Not organized.

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine? I dont have a set routine for anything in my life. I never seem to maintain a schedule. so it varies.

old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know? That i used to watch their porn that they stashed away terribly.

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why? my hair is short so a dark blue, i like blue but green is my favorite.

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do? five people? huff i have to know five people. *waves the thought* we’d go to the beach!!! my best friend hasnt been to one since she was a kid so definitely her, my only guy friend and his girl..thats three…uh…oh my guy friends girl’s friend…and uh…this is hard since none of who i am talking about actually lives anywhere near me or within a 1000 miles.

11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them. goodness. um. to be healthy–no more health issues, my body functions normally and everything works. thats probably two wishes. so the last one would be..i wish that i was successful.

painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up.I once went as a disco guy. yuh, my best costume ever.

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high? texted my best friend over some issues we were having…again. *cough*

thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars? Kill innocent people

storms: you on only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why?my best friend. because i love her more than anything and anyone. I would rather see her for the remainder of my life than what the world has to offer.

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realise you’re in love.I have, I am. the feeling is like knowing that you are getting something you really want and its coming to you, that anticipation of it getting there and you having it, but the anticipation is a constant. it wells withing stomach and rises into your chest but never out of your mouth or body, it just stays there.

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair? I keep black, gun metal grey and warm grey nail polish at all times.

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone? caramel macchiato and im rather trusting of anyone really.

 marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now? my best friend.

[anodyne-sunflower]

Love me like you do (Part 24)-Balem series

A/N: And here we are, 24! Sorry it took so long, having to work out the fine details of chapters is quite an undertaking. Lol So, I can’t promise an action packed chapter buuuuuuut, we are getting to the good stuff. At least for me lol I’ve been waiting to get here for months! Months! Anyway, enjoy. ❤️ This contains a time skip at the end! Nothing entirely major, but I need it.

MOOD MUSIC: Too good at goodbyes by Sam Smith (Foreshadowing…..maybe, these lyrics fit Balem do well. My lord.)

***

It was the early hours of the morning, the only sound in the Primary’s chambers that of his soft breathing and the ticking of the grand clock. The symbols along the device made little sense to you, but judging by the very faint glow of the moons outside you had to estimate it was still an ungodly hour. Not that it bothered you much. You had woken up not long ago, a bit nervous that somehow you’d find Balem gone…you supposed it was your fear of losing him again. He didn’t exactly have a lovely track record of gaining your favor for long. Instead, happily, you found him resting behind you. His arms hanging limply around you, as if he was hesitant to be so near all night, yet decided the comfort was too tempting to ignore.

“Balem?” You called after him, tilting your head back to find him soundly asleep. His hair was rather unkempt for once, strands falling messily over his eyes as he pressed his cheek into your back. You wondered if he was aware of his position before giving into rest, because you certainly would never expect a man like him to be cuddled into you like this. Although, you would not bother to wake him from his slumber. The softer side of you enjoyed his proximity.

You angled your head back, smiling at the very sight of the man. He looked so peaceful in rest, but you wondered if his dreams were even close to such a thing. You liked to believe he found solace in the night, but for a person in his world, finding serenity in anything was an unlikely privilege. Still, you only wished him the best, he deserved one sliver of happiness in his life. You wished that for him.

With a soft sigh, you turned back around, lending him the comfort of your body as he slept. He pressed his face deeper into your back, letting out a mumble that you couldn’t quite decipher. But, when no further movement came, you just relaxed into his arms and settled yourself with eyeing the rings upon his hands.

Your fingers gently played with his jewelry, turning the gold trinket around his finger and admiring the small yet fascinating details of it. Gold lines twisted down the surface of it, curving just enough to create a sharp edge that gave the design an intimidating look. You didn’t know if that detail was meant to be taken so seriously, but you admired the approach if it was.

As you traced along the design he stirred in his slumber, though you didn’t pay it any mind. You continued your path down his palm, curving along the lines in it. It was a peaceful practice, and the calm of the early morning only made you long for life to stay this way. Putting aside all your flaws and his, all the minute details of your relationship. In this moment, they didn’t matter, because the very backbone of your feelings was simply this. Being able to love him, and finding joy in his presence.

“What are you doing?” His fingers interlaced with yours, his question a whisper as he brought his chin to rest upon your shoulder. He still appeared somewhat tired, his eyes half lidded as he noted how easily your hand fit within his. It only made him hold it tighter, his lips descending on the curve of your shoulder as he spoke. “Why are you awake? It’s late.”

You hummed happily, closing your eyes as he continued a lovely path of kisses up your neck. He stopped at your jawline, brushing the hair that fell around it away with his nose. He wasn’t willing to let you out of his embrace yet, and when you attempted to turn around and fully face him, he held you back into him instead.

“No, little bird…” He cooed, leaving a saccharine kiss on your temple. “Don’t move, I enjoy this.” It was a simple statement, but the fact that Balem actually preferred holding you was enough to make your heart nearly flutter out of your chest. There was a devotion weaved throughout his tone, and he solidified that emotion when he tilted your head to the side. Just enough to allow him the pleasure of kissing you on that perfect pout of yours.

You moaned into the kiss, finally able to maneuver in his hold and settle on your back. Balem used that to his advantage, shifting between your spread legs and relaxing into them. He never broke the kiss, enjoying the sensation far too much to do so. In his opinion, it was the best way to enjoy the morning. Having the woman he was fond of beneath him, nails dragging tantalizingly down his back and eliciting a deep groan from him. He truly did not wish to leave this room today, but as all things in his life, it was just another pleasure of his that was fleeting.

His chamber presence spoke up, alerting him to his splice of an advisor waiting at his door. He pulled away from you, looking back towards the entrance with a growing expression of annoyance. You would’ve giggled if not for the fact that you were equally aroused and frustrated by the interruption.

“I’m going to make him suffer for this.” Balem growled out, sighing as he prepared to bark back at the advisor for the untimely arrival. But, you just laughed at his irritation, turning his head back to look at you as you playfully scolded his remark.

“No, you won’t. He’s only doing his job.” You gave him a peck on the lips, throwing your arms around his neck as you laid further back into the bed and pulled him down with you. “Just ignore him.”

It was a request he was more than willing to listen to, and he smirked in anticipation, lowering himself on top of you before another alert broke that happy reverie.

“My lord,” His chamber presence started, this time more urgently than the last. “Your advisor has deemed this a message of urgency.”

The Primary was inches from your lips, a breath of frustration ghosting along your skin when he grumbled. You offered him an apologetic smile, disappointment clear on your features when he moved from you and sat back into the headboard of his bed. He ran a hand through his hair, attempting to tame the wild locks before anyone other than you saw him.

“Let him in.”

The doors slid open, a blush on your face when you scrambled to pull the sheets up. You gave Balem an incredulous look, one he just ignored as the splice entered the room. Mr. Night immediately coughed in discomfort, turning his head slightly away from seeing you two together. “My lord, pardon the interruption but-”

“This better be important, Mr. Night. I’m in no mood for trivial matters.” Balem dismissed, grabbing the pitcher of wine from his bedside table and pouring a glass.

“I’m afraid it is, Lord Balem. Your brother, Titus, has arrived.”

At the mention of the youngest Abrasax, you tugged the sheets down slightly, looking worriedly over at Balem. He seemed unbothered by the message, taking a casual sip of wine as he considered his options carefully. “He wishes to speak with me?”

“Yes, my lord. It sounded…grave, my lord.”

“Id expect nothing less.” Balem just brushed it off, looking towards the gates of Jupiter and seeing a large clipper descend into the atmosphere. You could see the anger in him rising, but he otherwise remained calm in his demeanor. “Escort him to the throne room, I’ll be there shortly.”

“Right away, my lord.” Mr. Night bowed, albeit reluctantly, he found no joy in Abrasax family reunions. They rarely ended well for anyone, and he felt that familiar fear of having to ease Balem back into a normal state of rage after their meeting.

As the splice exited the room, mumbling to himself you finally sat up, giving Balem a pointed look. You didn’t want him to go, for more than one reason, but even meeting Titus once was enough to make you have qualms about the meeting. “You shouldn’t go.”

The Primary laid his glass back on the table, staring over at you amused. He could tell you were concerned for him, and while that built a sense of pride within him, he chose to ignore such a sentiment. “And why is that?”

“I overheard you and Mr. Night. You told me to ignore it, and to stay out of it but is destroying your family really the only way to end all this?” It wasn’t your place still, but you only wished he’d stay out of harms way for good. All this back and forth of fighting wasn’t going to do anyone, especially the entirety of the universe, any good. That much you had grown to understand. When earth’s leaders fought, it only ever meant the suffering of the world. So for these men, practically gods, fighting was no doubt going to cause further damage. “Please just stop this.”

The Primary was pulling his clothes back on, opting to ignore your advice. Love or not, you were not aware of how far the hatred ran in his blood, and he was never willing to part with the more harsh aspects of his business. “I don’t believe you understand the politics behind this.” Balem flatly stated, pulling on his boots before glancing back at you on the bed. He sighed and cupped your cheek, giving you a half hearted smile as you only watched him with worry.

You placed your hand over his, lowering your cheek into his palm more as you held him. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t. But, they tried to kill you twice already-”

“More than that, actually.”

How he managed to remain so unbothered by those facts irked you, but you figured for someone who lived this way for centuries it was nothing to be disturbed by. That didn’t make it any less painful for you though. Seeing him bloody and nearly lifeless was hard enough, you couldn’t face that prospect again.

“Stop this, Balem.” You begged him, wanting this war between siblings to cease already. You adored him, but he was also apart of why none of them could live freely of such poisonous hate. “Don’t let Titus-”

“Enough.” Balem silenced you, pulling his hand away and sighing. He could not sit and explain every element of his relationship with his family to you. Any other being in this universe would never understand, but he did. And this war had been a long time coming. “Do not leave this room. Is that clear?”

You didn’t approve of being ordered around, but there was concern in the Primary’s eyes. Something you weren’t used to seeing, and as he stood up in all his elite glory, he bent down and kissed you sweetly upon the lips. A stark contrast from the severity of the conversation. You felt no other choice then, and with a soft nod you obeyed his command.

“Okay.”

The Primary reluctantly moved away from you, taking in your sullen look before heading towards his chamber doors. He wasn’t fond of leaving you behind, especially with Titus now on Jupiter. But, it was because of you, he decided to allow the bane of his existence on this alcazar.

“I’ll be back shortly, little bird.” He called back to you, stopping at the doorway for a second. He would’ve turned back, but he wasn’t sure he could handle those disapproving glances you were giving him. So he walked on, and headed to the throne room where his younger brother awaited him.

***

The entire way to the throne room Balem couldn’t bring himself to speak, his words now reserved solely for his younger brother. He could’ve screamed at his advisor or Greeghan for their constant bickering behind him, but he held his breath and let the anger simmer for a while longer. He knew his actions would bring about this reunion, but he was also anticipating some form of surrender on Titus’ behalf. If history was anything to judge by, that wasn’t going to be the likely outcome of this.

The doors rose for Balem, Greeghan letting out a soft growl as he stopped by the doorway and stood guard. Mr. Night, on the other hand, continued to follow his master to where Titus stood. The Third Primary was admiring the view of the refinery, a handful of fruit in his hand as he plucked at the berries belonging to his brother. Another symbol of his lack of respect and manners. Balem chose to let that go, and angrily brushed passed his little brother to take his rightful place on the throne. An easy power play for him to make.

“Brother.”

Titus smiled at the simple form of address directed towards him, a sigh leaving him as he turned to finally look upon Balem on the throne. “It’s been so long, dear Brother. How have you fared? Good, I hope.”

“I did not come here for your pleasantries, Titus.”

“No, of course you didn’t.”

The tension in the room grew thick, making Balem’s advisor shift uncomfortably on his feet. He was waiting for them both to go at each other’s throats, but for now they remained so rudely civil.

“Leave us.” Balem ordered, waving his hand towards the doors for his advisor and guard to leave. They reluctantly obeyed him, knowing if they stayed it would only sour the Primary’s mood further. Titus watched them go, giving the splice a charming smile that he knew was all too fake.

“I’m glad for the privacy.”

“Get to the point of this, Titus. I have more important things to do.”

“Always the direct one.” Titus mused, slowly walking over to the throne. He gritted his teeth at the sight before him, his flights of fancy taking over as he envisioned himself upon that throne. The pride and envy of the universe. “I merely came here to talk, perhaps settle the debt you owe me.”

Balem scoffed at that, resting his cheek on his hand as he looked his Brother over. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne, trying to keep the rage at bay. “Debt? And which debt is that? The one which you placed yourself in?”

For once, Titus lost his temper, displaying that anger that seemed so easily inherited within his family. “Those ships were rightfully mine!!! You destroyed them! Have you any idea what you’ve done?!”

“What I’ve done is taken away the useless things you spent your inheritance on. This is why mother chose me to take over. She knew you would just smear our family’s name into the ground and bring shame upon us.” He spat back, leaning forward in his seat with every venom laced word he spoke. “Any ill will that has befallen you, Brother…is of your own doing.”

“The only reason you sit on that throne is because you were born first. Mother hated us all, admit it…she only chose you because you were older. Nothing more.” He knew the sensitive topics to cover in order to get a rise from Balem. The older Abrasax sibling always sought his mother’s love, as any child would from a parent. There was even a time Kalique and him tried desperately to win her affections, but unlike most parents she simply ignored them. Whatever time she had, she doted on Balem. If only to raise him for business related matters. Always the conditional type, his mother.

Balem scoffed, knowing what Titus was attempting to do. Unfortunately, he would fail today. “Say whatever you wish, at the end of the day, I sit up here and you grovel at my feet like the lowly being you are. And the only reason you’re here today, is because I’ve chosen not to kill you.”

Titus found humor in that threat, a chuckle leaving him as he continued ranting on about the unfairness of his life. “You can easily send your guard in, have him rip my head from my shoulders just as easily as he did to Cygnus.”

“I assure you, Titus. If you are to die, it will be at my hands. I won’t send some inadequate assassin to do it for me…” He watched his brother’s expressions carefully, noting the way Titus narrowed his eyes at the remark. It was painfully obvious Balem knew the source of his last run in with death, and he wanted Titus to be very aware of this fact. “What do you want?” His words became pointed, the fury slowly rolling in waves from his body. The madness he was so prone to rushed to him, and if Titus stood silently any longer he’d end up giving in.

“Revenge, payback, retribution…there’s so many words for it, I suppose.” Titus smiled, clasping his hands behind his back as he addressed Balem. “You took something from me, and I’m here to do the same to you.”

That was a threat that certainly captured the First Primary’s attention, and he held his wits about him for now, while he deciphered what his brother meant.

“I learned something very interesting recently.” He pulled a tablet from his black coat, tapping on messages he had been receiving from a certain business associate. One who was as close to loyal to Kalique and Titus as it got in this endless world of backstabbing and treason. “There appears to be something, or I should say someone, who has proven to be quite the distraction for you, Brother.”

Balem’s lip twitched in ferocity, his eyes growing dark as Titus continued to bait him with the one thing he admired above all else now. For your sake, he did his best to keep that emotion hidden. “And what would that be?” He seethed, trying to maintain his collected facade.

“It seems Cygnus proved rather useful before you decapitated the poor man. By the way, I don’t appreciate receiving heads in packages…” He continued to tap on the tablet, finally coming upon the correspondence he had with Balem’s councilman. He read each word carefully, a smile on his face as he watched Balem grip the arms of his throne in anger. “Titus, I have some news that you may find useful in your vendetta against your brother. It would appear he’s grown slack in his rule, opting to spend more time in the arms of an earthling whore than running our business.” Titus pulled the tablet down, raising his eyebrow curiously at his brother as he paced around the room. “Earthling whore…Cygnus never had a way with words, I’m afraid. However, I am curious, Balem. Would this earthling whore happen to be that lovely woman you brought to Kalique’s ball? I would’ve never guessed she’d be your type. I mean, she is quite stunning, but seems rather emotional. Most earthlings are, it’s not your fault.”

Balem tried to seem apathetic to the notion of loving you, because he felt the impending doom of your fate now that Titus became privy to certain knowledge. He would not have you placed in harms way, because he wasn’t capable of living with the thought of losing you again. “She means nothing to me.” He lied, looking directly into Titus’ eyes to drive that point in. But, it would take more convincing to get the third sibling to stand down from this topic.

“Oh? It was my understanding she never leaves your side. You even spend quite a bit on her. Just like mother, always showering the ones you feel even a semblance of care for with gifts and the finest of jewelry. Tell me…how is she? Perhaps, when you’re done with her I-”

“Do not speak of her!” The Primary roared out, rising quickly from his throne and staring down the unfortunate man he called a brother. His anger was so palpable, even Titus took a step back. But, that reaction was exactly what he was after, and he allowed himself a smirk in this moment of triumph.

“Oh my, such passion.” He teased, holding a hand over his heart in a further move to mock Balem. “My dear Brother, in love. Isn’t that a precious-”

“Enough!” Balem had grown weary of this meeting, his thoughts now fixated on the well being of you. He had placed guards outside of his room in the event of any attack, but he felt Titus had other ideas now. His only misjudgment, was not having killed Cygnus long ago. “If your anger stems from losing your precious ships, perhaps you should’ve protected them better.”

Titus had a multitude of reasons he wished Balem gone, but he wasn’t going to waste his time explaining any longer. He found the source of Balem’s weakness, and he was determined to exploit it. “And perhaps you should protect that which is dearest to you.”

Balem wanted to throttle him, make him cry out for mercy for all the risks he posed to you. But, he feared that might be too late now. In his rage, he rushed down the steps of his throne and gripped Titus harshly by the collar of his shirt. His jaw tightened in his fit of outrage, fingers curling around his younger brother’s neck. It wasn’t a smart move, but he would not have someone like Titus speak ill of you, or threaten your life right in front of him. “If you so much as speak of her again,” he leaned forward, making sure Titus felt the wave of his fury with every threat. “I will destroy everything you hold dear, until there’s nothing left and you beg me to end this miserable existence of yours.” He pushed Titus away, the younger Abrasax hitting the window as Balem sneered and turned away. He called for his guards, a lot of them rushing in to retrieve Titus and throw him from this planet for the last time. But, Balem had already sealed his fate, the minute he reacted to the very painful thought of losing you. It was exactly what Titus wanted, and he was more than willing to leave Jupiter for a short time now. Because, everything was beginning to fall perfectly in place for him. He shrugged off the guards, holding a hand up as he escorted himself from the room and went to the docking area where he would take his leave.

***Titus’ Clipper***

“They told me you were here…I must admit,” Titus kicked his boots up on the table, leaning into his chair as he kept his eyes upon the earth. He found beauty in the vast swirls of clouds in the atmosphere, the blue and earthy tones only enhancing his desire to take it for his own. “I was surprised. Seeing as how you so adamantly protested my decisions.” He dropped his arm over the chair, face set into an expression of amusement. Kalique could very well beg him, and he’d probably humor her for it. But, he sensed his sister had something interesting to say. After all, she wouldn’t waste her time with apologies. “I assume you’re not here to beg my forgiveness?”

“Don’t be so childish.” Kalique scoffed at his words, rolling her eyes and holding the edge of her dress as she walked towards the table. She dropped the sheaves on it, gaining her younger brother’s attention. “I made it perfectly clear to you. Balem would stop at nothing if you did anything reckless.”

Titus traced the rim of his wine glass, staring back at his sister with disdain as she scolded him. She could berate all she wished, but the truth was he had gotten far closer to eliminating Balem than she ever had. “Perhaps it was reckless of me, but I brought him to his knees if only for a brief, wonderful moment.” Just saying it brought a smile to his face, knowing that Balem had felt weakness in his death throes. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last, and they’d both find themselves open to retribution from the first primary.

“Except he isn’t dead, Titus.” Kalique drilled that knowledge into his head, even if he knew it already. Titus was a boy still in his thinking, and she needed him to see the bigger picture. She took a seat at the table, opening up the sheave and running through her mother’s will once more. “However, I may have something to remedy that.”

“As do I.” Titus spoke, turning in his seat and leaning over towards his sister. He held excitement in his eyes, a devilish grin erupting on his lips when he thought back to Balem’s precious little play thing. He never believed his heartless older brother could love, and now here he found himself, so happy with that strange turn of events. If only for the fact that it gave him one more chance to tear him down from that Abrasax throne. “The girl.”

“Girl?” The Second Primary raised her brow in wonder, fearing Titus had formed another plan that would only be counterproductive to their goals. What she found amidst her mother’s words was entirely different, and if she could use Titus to spin that stipulation to their favor, she would. “What girl?”

Titus curled his lip into a smirk, laying his glass upon the table and chuckling as he thought back on that particular beauty. Balem chose well, but he must’ve been aware it couldn’t last long. Nor would he find any form of happiness with that earthling. Even through the First Primary’s anger, nothing would stop Titus from using her to his benefit. “Do you remember your party? That woman he so proudly kept on his arm?”

Kalique nodded, still unsure of where her brother intended to take this conversation.

“Well,” Titus smiled, confidently displaying his assumptions of Balem’s relationship. “Turns out, our dear Balem is in love.”

Kalique nearly laughed at the idea, a disbelieving look on her fair features. Of all the ridiculous comments to make, she wondered why her brother would say such a thing. Balem was never going to care for anyone else, even the three siblings held disdain for one another. Their family was never going to find joy in the arms of anyone but their individual selves. It was only another reason she never saw fit to marry. “Don’t be so foolish, Titus. Now is not the time for gossip-”

“Oh, but it’s not, Kalique.” He leaned over the table, hands lacing together as he smiled knowingly. “You should’ve seen his face…the very minute I threatened her life, oh…I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry before. Nearly killed me right then.” Despite the dark nature of his words, the youngest son just laughed off Balem’s rage as if it was nothing. To him, dealing with his older brother was just an everyday occurrence now.

“You’re lying…” Kalique couldn’t possibly believe such a thing, but the way Titus spoke…it made her reconsider her plan. At least some part of it, because with this knowledge it would only be easier to bring Balem down.

“Fortunately for us, I am not.”

She looked Titus over for any sign of treachery, but he held a truth to his eyes and smile. One she found herself slowly believing. “Then that changes some things.”

“Like?”

“Here.” She slid the sheave over to Titus, pointing at one paragraph below the inheritance distribution. It laid out the basic terms of Seraphi’s estate, mainly naming Balem as sole heir to most. It left very little to Titus or Kalique, but the further down Titus read, he came upon one part that could change everything forever.

“Is this real?”

“Of course. I had my advisor retrieve it for me, hoping there’d be some information I may have missed the first time. Upon our mother’s death, Balem had everything transferred right away. I don’t believe the commonwealth ministry even attempted to deny Balem’s words. They simply awarded him everything, and never questioned it again. I don’t even think he knows of it.”

“Well then,” Titus read it over and over again, each time finding more joy in the words. If Balem was unaware of it, then he’d be an open target. And so would his lovely bed mate. “I was planning on taking her. To watch him crawl to his knees and beg for her back. I suppose I would even let her live if she was interesting enough…but, this?” Titus ran his finger over the sheave, as if he was admiring the beauty of his future life. “This is even better.”

A wicked smile formed on Kalique’s pretty lips, her eyes glinting over with the endless possibilities now before them. For once, she finally felt this plan would work. “It’ll break his heart. And it’s like mother always said-”

Titus cut her off, thinking of how crestfallen his late mother was when their father left. “Nothing hurts more than that of a broken heart.”

***

A/N: I love my scheming little Abrasax siblings. Bunch of crazies. What do they have planned? 🤔

[hmel78]

In conversation with Andy Jackson ...

73 DAYS AT SEA (2016)

At the mention of ‘Pink Floyd’, people often, perhaps immediately, identify with a certain sound - you could argue that there’s nothing throughout the annals of modern music that quite matches it. Over the past 35 years, of most things pertaining to ‘Pink Floyd’, that sound has been shaped and polished to perfection with the help of Andy Jackson.  As senior engineer at David Gilmour’s studios, he has also worked on all of Gilmour's solo recordings / multimedia projects ( as an engineer and/or co-producer) since 1984. 

Andy Jackson’s talents, however, do not rest solely with ‘Pink Floyd’ - he has also worked with artists such as ‘Heatwave’, ’The Strawbs’, ‘The Boomtown Rats’ (most notably mixing their hit "I Don't Like Mondays"), ‘Incredible Kidda Band’and goth rock group ‘Fields of the Nephilim’– he was also guitar player in the live band version of ‘The Eden House’. Originally trained in the sound engineering profession by producer/engineer James Guthrie, at Utopia Studios,  Andy served  as his assistant for several years, and began work as an engineer for Pink Floyd in 1980 - assisting in the recording of the performances of “The Wall” at Earls Court ; He was also the Front of House engineer on the band's 1994 world tour. Jackson also engineered Roger Waters' first solo album “The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking”, and worked Front of House on the subsequent tour in 1984.  As Guthrie's assistant, Andy worked on the film soundtrack recordings for “The Wall” and the studio album “The Final Cut”.  When Guthrie relocated to Los Angeles, Andy became the band's primary engineer beginning with “A Momentary Lapse of Reason”, and then “The Division Bell”;  receiving three Grammy Award nominations for Best Engineered Album - for ‘A Momentary Lapse of Reason’ - and Best Engineered / Best Surround Sound album - for ‘The Division Bell’.

In collaboration with engineer Damon Iddings, Andy remastered the majority of the bonus features material on the Immersion editions of “The Dark Side of the Moon” and “Wish You Were Here” for the "Why Pink Floyd...?" reissue campaign ; plus the material recorded for the soundtrack to the band's 1992 auto racing documentary film “La Carrera Panamericana”, as well as engineering, producing, AND playing bass on two of the tracks on their last album “Endless River”, in 2014. Inbetween times, Andy continues to work on his own solo albums - his debut “Signal To Noise” received nothing but rave reviews, and his latest release “73 Days At Sea” looks to be achieving more of the same. We caught up with Andy, on one of his rare hours off ...

HR : When we spoke in 2014, about your debut album “Signal To Noise”, you hinted that one day there may be a second offering of songs - and here it is! “73 Days At Sea”. It’s a truly incredible album Andy, are you happy with it? Andy Jackson : Thanks! I’m sure for anyone involved in any creative process, there’s always a degree of doubt - could it be better? Having said that, I’ve learnt over the years that there is a point where you have to put it away, accept that you are into microscopic changes that no one but yourself will perceive. I feel pretty comfortable that the album was the best I had in me at that time.  The next one will be better! HR : What came first this time, the music or the lyrics?

AJ : One of the things that I decided last time, on ”Signal To Noise”, was that I wouldn’t record anything that wasn’t finished being written, having seen at first hand (many times) the pitfalls of recording backing tracks with no idea what the song is vocally.   That is, after all, the single most important element.  I didn’t change my opinion about that this time.   There again, I can’t say necessarily that anything came first. I tend to knock around lyrical ideas & musical ideas independently, and at some point it becomes clear that one particular lyric belongs with a particular piece of music. Then the evolution starts, when the two things become interactive.   I do allow myself to start on a piece without the lyrics necessarily being totally finished, not least of all, all sorts of minor tweaks are needed once I actually start to sing them, just to make them scan well. HR : Across both albums, some of your song writing is quite personal - although I’m sure many listeners will connect with your philosophy, and the snapshots of your life experiences that are shared in the songs. Do you listen to them and hear your heart on your sleeve, or do you just hear some really great music? AJ : I’ve tried writing from other perspectives, but it always feels like I’m being dishonest.   I don’t think that, that is something that can’t be done - Plenty of great writers write about things outside themselves, I just don’t find that I can do that.  ‘The Gyre’ is a good example - I originally wrote it from a totally different perspective, but in the end it felt contrived, and I needed to write it from the perspective of ‘me’.   The ‘me’ isn’t necessarily totally me, but I just like writing in the first person.   Drownings is a bit of a departure that way, that has bits written as other people, but even then, I needed to totally get under their skin to do it, including a section which I ‘method improvised’, ad lib’d in character.

It’s in my nature to listen to the music primarily, but if I’m going to write lyrics I want them to be worthwhile, I want to be able to read them as if they are someone else’s and to like them.

HR : Has making the recordings somehow aided your own ‘journey’? AJ : Absolutely.   It’s in the act of making them, of doing things that are difficult, that the value lies. “Nothing worth having was ever achieved without effort” -Theodore Roosevelt. HR : The songs on “73 Days At Sea” are linked by a theme - primarily the ocean ... Was the inspiration down to a lifelong affinity with being beside the sea - say, a love of eating ice-cream in the salty air -  are they musings, or is there a deeper connection?

AJ : As I allude to on the album notes, it comes from spending a bit of time working next to the sea at David Gilmour’s studio. I kept feeling a sense of nostalgia when ever I left there, as if it were somewhere that was significant in my past, which it isn’t. I wrote about that in a song (Type 1 error) and found that I kept making reference to the sea in lyrics, without necessarily realising I was doing it until afterwards. I thought about a suite of songs linked by the sea, but it kept getting bigger & bigger, until it became the whole album.  I went down onto the beach one day & recorded the waves, which made a lovely link between songs.  There is no huge significance to it really, or maybe there is on an unconscious level, I can’t know ... HR : Do you have a favourite track on the album? AJ : Same answer as everyone gives – they’re all my babies!   I actually have a fondness for the segue of songs that start the album, that’s the original ‘sea suite’ and works well as the Soft Machine Volume 2 inspired idea.  ‘The Gyre’ was the last one I wrote & recorded, and is probably the most sophisticated musically, so I’m proud of that one too.  The best one is always the next one though, so you’ll have to wait for that! HR : “Drownings” is nothing short of a masterpiece ; some may pick up on a bit of  a ‘Pink Floyd’ vibe - would you embrace that comparison? AJ : People are inevitably always going to hear ‘Pink Floyd’ in what I do.   I often wonder if chance had meant that my career was most associated with, say, ‘Genesis’ or ‘King Crimson’ or even ‘Steve Hillage’, if people would say I sounded like that.  Frankly I don’t worry about it, I just make music I like.

HR : I’m curious about the significance of the dates, detailed alongside the lyrics in the booklet ...

AJ : The dates in ‘Drownings’ really serve to help understand the chronology in the song.  I thought of Part 1, Part 2 etc (although not in that order), but I like the dates as it makes it like diary entries. I also ended up with having 2 of the sections being the same date, but from different perspectives, which I like, what 2 different people are thinking at the same time.  The specifics of the dates are arbitrary, although I did look them up to make sure they were all mundane dates, so they all feel like rainy Tuesdays.

HR : “Signal To Noise” was a complete solo effort, but you invited some guest artists to perform on “73 Days At Sea”; namely David Jackson from ‘Van Der Graaf Generator’, and  Anne Marie Helder from ‘Panic Room’, who both feature on ‘Drownings’ - did you envisage their involvement from the beginning? AJ : No, it evolved as I was making the song, and for different reasons.   Once ‘Drownings’ became written from the different perspectives of the people in it, it became obvious that I needed to have a female voice to sing the female role (there is a version with me singing it, but it’s a bit ridiculous).   Anne-Marie came about just because I knew her work and thought she’d be good, so I asked her, simple as that.   David Jackson was just because I have always been a huge fan of his playing, and thought it’d be great to have him on the song.   If he’d said no I wouldn’t have got a different sax player, it was specific to David.  Again it was just a matter of asking him.   I definitely envisage doing something with David again, on the next album probably ...

HR : Did ALL of your guitars make it onto this album? AJ : No they didn’t this time. It was a much more limited palate than I used before, somewhat deliberately.   Pretty much one electric (which was new for me, a PRS with P90s), one for slide, a 12 string electric and one 6 string and one 12 string acoustic.  No real reason, just keeping it simpler this time, there’s a bit of trying to give it a ‘band’ feel to the album, even though it’s 4 incarnations of me. HR : The cover artwork on both “Signal To Noise”, and “73 Days At Sea” are pieces by Michael Bergt, and they’re an absolutely  perfect fit -  how did you come across his work? What is it about his art that you admire? AJ : It was a chance find when I was doing Signal to noise.  I googled for ‘Sisyphus’, while writing the lyrics to ‘One More Push’, and the painting that I used on the cover for that album came up. It immediately struck me as perfect for the album cover, so I emailed Michael and asked him.  He was more than happy for me to use it, and for a very minimal price.   It seemed obvious to go back to him again for 73 days at sea.  If anything, I think that one is even better & more appropriate.   One fluke is the balloon in that painting, I already had the instrumental piece called ‘Ballooning’ (in fact that’s a very old piece of music & was always called that).  Couldn’t be more perfect!   I should mention the ‘barbie on the beach’ picture, which I love, was kindly provided by you!!

HR : [laughs] Indeed! I feel very honoured ...

AJ : I had a conversation with Anne-Marie about the fact that, as ‘cottage industry’ artists, we end up doing our own artwork, with no Storm Thorgerson type bringing in brilliant ideas & craftsmanship.  Makes the whole thing even more ‘mine’ though.

HR : Totally - and it is perfect. I think you get a real sense of how much of YOU has gone into the whole album ;  the sound, and the way the physical copies look. Both of them  - you should be incredibly proud! Since we last caught up, you’ve worked on David Gilmour’s latest album “Rattle That Lock” -  it’s quite an eclectic album, was it demanding to record?

AJ : It was a slightly odd album to work on. The way David works these days, he does a lot of work of putting the songs together on his own. We’ve set up the Brighton studio so he can come in & tinker and record anything he likes.  I get brought in when we do the ‘serious bits’.  This was doubly unusual inasmuch as we broke off this album to do ‘Endless River’, so it was a couple of years between my first stint on it, recording drums with Steve, to the final overdubs and mix. In the middle, David had built the album, so I came into half finished songs that I didn’t know.   One of the issues that many ‘big stars’ have is that no one is prepared to tell them that anything they do is no good.   That’s not a problem for me, we’ve worked together for 35 years now.  He really needs someone to be able to say yes/ no do it again, let’s drop in this bit and so on, which is a role that I do for him. As ever, with Protools sprawl, the toughest thing was that in the end some of the songs were 120 tracks or so, just because it’s so easy to defer decisions. Took a bit of sorting out!! HR : What projects have you got lined up for the coming year - are you planning  a 3rd solo album? Any live shows?

AJ : Well I’m halfway through a stint on a project I can’t really talk about. Let me just say it’s a whole heap of archive recordings for a well known band who I’m associated with!

As for my own music, when I get the time I’ll start on my next project. I want to explore a particular dynamic I have in mind. I’ve often thought that in recording or rehearsing situations I’ve been in, either working with others or as part of a band, sometimes someone will play something that I think is great, and that everything else should be built around that thing, to let it be the most important thing. Too often I see that idea lost, buried under other people’s opinions or lack of vision.  As, with my own music, I am in the position of being able to make all the choices, I have the opportunity to absolutely follow my vision.   I’m going to try a methodology of working with other people (such as David Jackson) and giving them the chance to be the defining element on something (by being ‘first’).  Hopefully this way I can get an album that is made of extraordinary things.

Live shows, I don’t know.  It’d need to coalesce into a band really for that to be viable. I’d like to do it one day, but who knows when.

[Andy spotted one of my more bizarre photos one day, and it features within the inlay booklet artwork of 73 Days At Sea]

[x-oc-blog-x]

Inside Avas’ OCs

I got a questionnaire from mibba.com for my OCs

Oliver Asman

Basic

1. What is your full birth name? Oliver Lee Asman

2. Any nicknames? Oli

3. When were you born/how old are you? June 5. I’m 19

4. If immortal or slow-ageing, what is your apparent age? I’m human soo.

5. Where were you born?

The United States

6. Who were your parents? Cassie and Daniel Asman

7. Do you have any siblings? Yeah. He is 5. His name is Joel.

8. Where do you live now? At jacks house in the US

9. Who do you live with? Jackson Canmore and his mom.

10. Are you right or left-handed?

Left

11. What words/phrases do you regularly use? I definitely say sorry a lot.

12. Name some habits or strange quirks you have? I chew on hoodie strings. And my shirt sometimes. I know it’s gross

Appearance

13. Height: 5’ 7”

14. Weight: 147 pounds

15. Skin Tone: I’m tan

16. Body Shape: normal? I don’t know.

17. Hair: blonde quiff

18. Eyes: blue

19. Face Shape:what does this even mean?

20. Everyday Dress Style:I like to wear black jeans and a t shirt

21. Formal Dress Style:slacks and dress shirt.

22. Any Jewelry? A few bracelets just to fidget with really.

23. Any Scars? Just a few. Ive got some on my thigh. I don’t want to talk about it.

24. Tattoos? No.

Growing Up

25. How would you describe your childhood in general? It was okay. It could have been better. I was kicked out though. There was that.

26. What is your earliest memory?

My mom and dad arguing over money. He hit her.

27. How much schooling have you had? I graduated

28. Did you enjoy school?

Yeah. I got to spend time with friends. And jack

29. Where did you learn most of your skills/abilities?

School

30. Any role models while growing up? Not really until middle school. I really liked the flash. Jack made me watch it.

31. What did you want to be when you grew up?

I actually wanted to be a dinosaur. Then I wanted to be a teacher

32. What was your favourite thing to do? Play with dinosaur toys with jack. And when I grew up a bit I liked to write.

33. Were you popular?

No

34. Who were your friends?

Jack, Misha, Collin, Rex, Alex, Loni

35. When and who was your first kiss?

My first kiss was a girl named Maddie in 6th grade

Past Influences

36. What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? Moving in with jack when I got kicked out. That really influenced our friendship and helped us get together. And that was life changing.

37. Who has had the most influence on you? Jack.

38. What do you consider is your greatest achievement? Healing from being kicked out and not trying to reach out to my toxic family.

39. What is your greatest regret? Missing so many opportunities because of insecurity.

40. What is the most evil thing you have ever done? I have no idea. I try not to do bad things.

41. Do you have a criminal record of any kind? No

42. When was the time you were the most frightened? When I was kicked out. I was so scared. My dad had me by the hair and was dragging and throwing me.

43. The most embarrassing moment of your life so far? I accidentally submitted one of my writings for an assignment instead of the actual assignment. My teacher was really confused.

44. If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be and why? As much as I loved living with Jack and his mom, I wish I wouldn’t have come out to them. Maybe they would still talk to me.

45. What is your best memory? My first kiss. Jack and I were in the park. And without me even telling him I liked him, we both just kinda kissed.

46. What is your worst memory? Other than being kicked out, Being beat up in the bookstore. I didn’t do anything to them, but because I was holding hands with jack, they put put me in the hospital.

Beliefs and Opinions

47. Are you more optimistic or pessimistic? I try to be an optimist.

48. What is your greatest fear?

Being alone

49. What are your religious views?

I believe in the Christian god. But I never go to church or anything.

50. Political views?

Not conservative.

51. Views on Sex?

Sex is a cool thing. Everyone is different with it, but it’s nice. I like it. I want to go more into detail but I really shouldn’t.

52. In your own opinion, what is the most evil thing someone could do?

Kick out their child for being lgbt+

53. Do you believe in Soul Mates/True love? I do.

54. What do you base success on?

Personal Achievements. I’m successful for finding a healthy relationship and getting out of a toxic situation. Other people are successful for getting past their bad pasts.

55. How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings with yourself?

I try to push my feelings away. I don’t like negative emotions.

56. How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings with others?

I usually tell jack how I feel if I’m depressed because he likes to help.

57. Do you have any biases or prejudices?

Yes.

58. Is there anything you would absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances?

I’m sure there is. But I don’t know what they would be

59. Why would you refuse?

N/a

60. Who or what, if anything, would you die for?

I’d die for jack and his family. I’d die for my friends. Id die for the kids like me who don’t have anyone to go to because they were abandoned for who they are.

61. What do you feel the most passionate about?

Jack.

62. What one act are you most proud of?

Healing from bad things.

63. What one act are you most ashamed of?

Coming out to my parents.

64. Are you a leader or follower?

Follower

Relationships

65. In general, how do you treat people you don’t know well? I try to be nice to everyone.

66. How do you treat people you do know?

With respect.

67. Who do you respect the most and why?

Jack. He is a nice human who has been through bad days. And he is still the best and nicest person I know.

68. Who are your friends?

Misha, collin, Jack, Loni, Alex, and Rex.

69. Who is your best friend?

Jack

70. Ever been in love?

Obviously.

71. Who do you consider family?

Jack, Misha, Collin, Ms. Canmore

72. How close are you to your family?

I don’t talk to them. At all.

73. Who do you turn to in desperate times and why?

Jack. He has always been there for me.

74. Who do you trust to protect you and why? No one should have to protect me. But in the times that I needed it, Jack. Sorry if I keep saying his name for everything. He is everything to me.

75. Who do you despise the most and why?

My dad. He took me by my hair and threw me from our house because of my sexuality.

76. Do you tend to argue or avoid conflict? Avoid. My anxiety doesn’t like to fight.

77. Do you care what others think of you?

Yes.

Sex and Intimacy

78. Do you consider yourself straight, gay, bi, trans or something else?

Pansexual.

79. Do you have a significant other?

Yes.

80. Describe them: kind, smart, sweet, supportive, loving, and everything someone could want.

81. What is the perfect romantic date?

Going to the park and having lunch.

82. Best sexual partner?

Jack is the best. But he is the only person I’ve had sex with.

83. Worst sexual partner?

No one. Jack is the only person I’ve had sex with.

84. Worst thing you’ve done to someone you love?

I don’t know.

Likes and Dislikes

85. What is/are your favourite hobbies/pastimes?

I like to watch tv. And write.

86. What is your most prized possession?

The bracelet jack gave me.

87. Favourite colour?

Green

88. Favourite food?

Pizza

89. Favourite movie? Spider-Man: far from home

90. Favourite TV show?

Glee

91. What, if anything, do you like to read?

I like poems. Rupi Karar especially

92. What style of music do you like?

I like all music. Except country.

93. What is your idea of good entertainment? Books, tv, plays, etc.

94. Do you smoke?

No. It’s gross

95. Drink?

I don’t unless someone offers at like a party or something.

96. Drugs?

Nah.

97. Typical Friday night?

Cuddles with jack.

98. What would be the perfect gift for you?

Roses.

99. Rain or Sun and why? Rain. I like to feel the rain.

100. Day or Night and why?

Day. I like the sunrises and the sense of everyone having something to do in the light.

101. What makes you laugh?

Puns. Jokes.

102. What shocks/offends you?

Anti-lgbt people. People who deny human rights to others.

103. How do you deal with stress? I usually break down and cry.

104. Are you spontaneous, or do you feel you always need a plan?

I prefer plans to ease my anxiety.

105. Any pet peeves?

Nah.

Occupation/Study

106. Do you have a job or are you studying? I stay at home. I don’t do much. I sometime write for commission money.

107. If so, what is it/what course?

Writing.

108. Do you like it?

Yeah.

109. If studying/not working, where does your money come from? It doesn’t really.

110. What is your boss/teacher(s)/agent/publisher ect like? I am my boss that’s pretty cool.

111. What are your co-workers/other students like? Nope.

112. Do you get along with them? Nope.

113. What is something you had to learn that you hated?

Semicolons

114. Do you tend to save or spend your money?

Save

Misc.

115. Describe the routine of a normal day for you:

Wake up. Cuddle. Sometimes work. Eat. Cuddle. Blah blah.

116. What is your greatest strength?

Being able to pick myself up when I’m down

117. Greatest weakness?

Being so emotional

118. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

I would want to look better. I think I could improve my face.

119. Introvert or Extrovert?

Introvert

120. Organised or messy?

Organized.

121. Three things you’re good at:

Writing, overthinking, and being a friend.

122. Three things you’re bad at:

Rationalizing, talking to strangers, and being alone

123. Do you like yourself?

Kinda

124. What is your life goal?

To be fully happy with who I am.

125. Where do you see yourself in five years?

Hopefully I’m married to jack. Maybe having a baby.

126. If you could choose, how would you want to die? With jack by my side. I don’t want to be alone.

127. Three things you would do with 24 hours left to live? Talk to my family and explain to them some things, tell Joel how important he is to the world, and to have some alone time with jack.

128. What is one thing you’d like to be remembered for after your death? Being a good person

129. Three words to describe your personality?

Awkward, caring, and nice.

130. Three words others use to describe your personality?

Awkward, horny, and fun😂