#its because I was throwing my entire self into a song about a high class hooker

[dyslexic-mess]

giggling about the fact that, in year 8, our music teacher had us learn and study 'killer queen' by queen.

It's only dawned on me recently: that song is about an escort.

Our teacher had a class of 13 year olds sing a song about an expecive hooker at the school showcase.

[glitterge1pen]

Pink Ink

Keigo Takami x reader, sfw, fluff, word count 1,930

Hawks was walking with you to the store. He had the afternoon off and had asked to spend some time with you. At this point it had been years since you had taken an internship at his agency. You weren't a hero, you just ran errands and filed paperwork and you were only there for eight months as you tried to beef up your resume. Eventually you finally landed where you wanted, sure the work was difficult, it left you sleepless, it left you angry at the world, but still you liked being a teacher.

Hawks had kept in touch with you after you left though. You didn't think much of it at first. But he spent a lot of time with you, and you knew just how much time because you had worked with him before and knew what his schedule was like. Sometimes you wanted to ask what he thought of you, if he did. Doing so made you uneasy though, fearing that he might push you away.

These days those thoughts seemed to chase after you harder and faster. What was he thinking? How come he texted so late sometimes? Where was he? Was he hurt? What was he doing in my dream last night? Why did that song make me think of him? So today felt like a bit of a kick to the gut.

Upon entering the store Hawks grabbed the cart for you. He waited for you to guide him, meeting your eyes you turned from him trying to reign in your emotions.

“So, what we getting today?”

“Well, I need craft supplies. I want to make each student in my class a valentine card, and I was thinking of getting everyone some candy? The class is having a valentines party in the afternoon on Friday.”

“Can’t you just get one of those boxes of premade cards”

You gasp in fake hurt.

“As if I would succumb to that, hand made cards are the best, plus making them is kinda fun”

“I wouldn't know”

Your nervous feelings and hesitancy that you had started having around Hawks faded immediately when you heard this. You lunge at him, grabbing at his arm. He looks down at the contact but you are now on the mission and pay no mind to it.

“You haven't ever made valentines day cards?”

His voice is more feeble than usual as he replies,

“No”

You drag him to the craft section. You grab glitter, glitter glue, foam heart stickers, rhinestones, you even splurge on some of the lacy paper and felt heart pads. He watches as you move frantically through the shelves throwing things into the cart. A bemused smile on his face.

While you're at the self checkout he gets approached by a fan. You two are used to this and you don't mind. It's part of his life, besides he is admirable. He is done speaking just as you are finishing up packing the bag back into the cart.

Once outside again you start to push the cart to one of the corrals. But Hawks grabs you at the waist.

“What are you-”

You two take off across the parking lot. His hands on the cart as he pushes the two of you with the wind from his wings. You're moving so fast that your feet struggle to stay on the bar of the cart, but you're laughing so hard, and the air is so nice.

At the edge of the parking lot he stops abruptly. You are tossed forward a bit but he catches you. You stay there laughing in his arms. When you catch your breath and turn to face him you halt. You’re much closer than intended, you don't know where to look.

“We should hurry up before your next patrol starts”

You say moving to grab the bags from the cart. He nods, helping you carry things. The walk back to your place is more peaceful. The winter cold not as sharp, sun gold as its light rained down through the empty trees. He tells you about his day. Today it's mostly about Tokoyami, a work study student that he really seems to have taken a liking to.

“I want you to meet the kid I think you'd really like him”

“If he’s a absolutely amazing as you say I probably will”

Hawks smiles at that as he lets himself into your home. You clear off the kitchen island and start getting to work. You show Hawks the sheet with all your students' names. At first Hawks doesn't really help just observers and listens to you gush about your students.

“Come on, you have to at least make one”

You make an excited sound as an idea comes to mind.

“Tokoyami is your student right! Make one for him!”

“He’s in high school though, your kids are in elementary school”

“So? Look you need to make one, I promise it's not actually that scary”

Hawks huffs at this.

“I never said it was scary”

“Oh yeah? Then how come everytime I push the sticker towards you, you push them back?”

He says nothing more. Just grabs some supplies and starts working. He doesn't know how to open the glitter glue and he says nothing when he hands it to you. He puts the foam heart stickers on each of his fingers and then shoves his hand in your face. He lets you stamp hearts on his hand with pink ink. He holds down the string as you tie ribbons through the paper lace. You smear glitter glue on his arm. His feathers sort out the finished cards, moving them into an alphabetical pile.

“I think it’s nice that you're doing all this for your class, making them each something, letting them have their little party”

“Things have been tense in the world lately, they are old enough to know things are changing but not old enough to really understand why. I just want them to have a special day, something that eases them up a bit you know?”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

It was tough keeping your class together through the morning lessons. They were rowdy. They were whispering, and were bad at whispering. Even after recess and lunch the excitement had not dwindled, their energy was still running high.

You instructed everyone to take out their “mailboxes”. You were explaining how this was going to work. That while the students were handing out their valentines you would set out the snacks. A knock at the door. Without missing a beat, still throwing out instructions you went to open the door.

You stare in shock, mouth open in surprise. You had been expecting one of the school secretaries but instead it was Hawks. The rustling of your students pulls you back to reality. You quiet your voice as you speak to him.

“What are you doing here? Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine, I just, you had said that you wanted to make the valentines party really special, and I am the number two hero and kids love that kind of stuff-”

“Holy shit,how come I didnt think of that, wait right here”

A couple of the kids had been leaning over the desks trying to see who you were talking to. But as your attention turned back to them they all fell flat in their seats.

“I have a surprise”

The kids all start to clamour in excitement, trying to guess what it is. Most of the guesses are about getting extra candy or maybe extra time on the playground.

“No, it's better than any of that I promise! But…”

You trail off knowing it will silence the students as they try to uncover the mystery that is the surprise.

“We will do the valentine's day exchange first! Then we can have fun with our surprise guest”

The word guest gets them real worked up. They start throwing out names. One student says it's probably another class, so they can have a joint party. Another brings up that popular local lawyer and you stifle a laugh at that. You walk back to the door to let Hawks in. 

His entrance isn't grand or exciting but once the kids see him you can longer control them. They are half out of their desks, disbelief, a few are laughing hysterically unable to believe that the number two hero is actually in their classroom.

It takes a while but eventually they settle down and get caught up in giving out their cards. Hawks is dragged desk to desk, answering questions, he is pulled this way and that. But once the kids start opening up their cards he is like a forgotten toy. 

You have been at your own desk at the front of the classroom, watching the scene before you, a cheerful expression on your face. Hawks came to stand by you. Reaching into his jacket he pulled out his own card. He must have gone out and bought more supplies because it was completely different from the ones you had made with him.

You saw his handwriting on it, it said you two really needed to go on a date. You were about to agree, to tell him that you returned his feelings, that he should stay after class was over so you could talk, that you were so thankful for him coming here today. But you had not pulled the chance card from the monopoly deck.

“Oh my god! Hawks just gave a valentine to our teacher!”

One of your students shouted. It seemed that they considered this an accomplishment for themselves as well. Soon all the others were chiming in with questions. After getting them to settle down, Hawks started talking.

“I've know your teacher for a couple years now”

“Really?!”

This surprised the class as well.

“They used to work at my agency! Did they never tell you?”

You start calling kids up to your desk to grab snacks and give them the valentines you made them. Hawks starts telling stories about being a hero. The only sound is the crinkle of candy wrapped, your students obedient in their listening. They devour everything Hawks has to say.

“And you are all lucky to have a teacher like yours, who cares about you and works hard to make sure you are cared for and learning”

Your students then start to thank you for the afternoon. For letting them have the party, their valentines, for having Hawks there. Their happy chatter is cut off by the bell. You sneak a picture of the class bombarding Hawks in a goodbye hug.

They linger longer than usual. Asking about homework that doesn't exist, taking out markers for Hawks to sign backpack straps and scraps of paper. But they have to go, buses and parents calling them home.

When the classroom is finally empty Hawks is the one to break the silence.

“What do you think?”

You're confused.

“About what?”

“Didn't you read the card?”

You laugh. Realizing that he must have been suffering through his entire story time with the kids. To you the answer was so obvious though.

“Do you seriously not know that I feel the same?”

And it's like nothing's changed. He helps you pack up your things. As you walk together he starts asking how long you've had feelings for him, why you didn't tell him, if there was anyone you dated while you liked him. You answer patiently, honestly, with a smile, knowing that you wanted to ask the same.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

A/N: ehhhhhhhhhhhhh so tired. Writing so hard. Milkshakes so good. Me lactose intolerant. Throwing up another playlist because I can. Currently washing my face and brushing my teeth, sleep is near. Oh! I already started writing a valentines thing for Iwaizumi and any other valentines day esque requests would be <3

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KaPclbInJp3hQW8gcGM3O?si=3-9NGWdqRkCDpQxr9WqdPg

[tpwkxxangel]

Side A: Track 2

//hi! so i have finals this next week, so i thought i’d updated sooner rather than later! thank you for the kind comments on the last update too!! Okay, now onto the story! here is the masterlist//

~~~

June 2018

"Jeffery!?" Harry calls from his dressing room.

It's been two weeks since Harry meet his kiwi girl again for the first time in two years, and she has not left his mind since. The morning of the sunrise, they grabbed breakfast before she dropped him off at his hotel. He got a total of two hours of sleep before he had to get to the airport to fly down to Houston, but he couldn't complain at all. He was so happy to finally feel something other than sadness again. He slept the rest of the day after getting to his new hotel. His dreams were filled with the intoxicating green-eyed girl.

With Harry being back to his happy self, everyone has taken notice. Jeff of course has been asking about the mysterious girl and why Harry seems so much happier after their night together. Harry hasn't said a single word about that night, just that she's an old friend that he is thankful for running into her. Everyone can tell she's a little more than just an old friend to the singer by the way his attitude lifted from spending one evening with her.

The moment the sun rose into the sky that morning, Janis brought a light into his life that he never knew he needed. And today was the day Harry would see his sunshine again.

They have been messaging back and forth for the last few days. He's learned a lot about her. She got her undergraduate degree from Columbia in mathematics and was placed in an accelerated program that is allowing her to get her masters at the end of December. He now can confirm that she is full of intellect. She's from the Dallas area and her parents are socialites who own a business that has many locations across the US. They wanted her to take it over, since she is the oldest of three, but it was never her calling. Her twin brother takes after their father and is following in his footsteps instead.

Harry talked about his life too. He told her crazy stories about the times he spent in one direction goofing off in hotel rooms. He also talked about how his life was pure chaos for five years but how he wouldn't take it back for anything.

One night when they were on the phone, they opened up about past relationships. They both are starting to let their guards down and Harry couldn't be happier. He wants to get to know more about Janis every time he talks to her. There is no rational reason why this girl would make him feel the way she does, but it's amazing.

"Most people are intimidated by my intelligence. People had this idea of who I was before they even knew me," she scoffed, "They often underestimated me when I was placed in the more advanced classes, so when I open my mouth and add to the conversation, people will get turned off by someone like me," she continued nervously answering Harry's question of why she hasn't been in a real relationship before. There was something else in her voice that told him there was more to the story than she was leading on.

"To be honest, I've had some of the same issues. I think everyone believes that I am just a pretty face that can kind of sing," he chuckled.

"You are a pretty face, and you can sing, but you are so much more than that Harry," J giggles softly into the phone.

"Thank you love," Harry felt himself blushing at her kind words. "Knowledge has been something that I value above all else. Since I never went to college, I try to read as much as I can. That way, I can participate in deep conversations with people and expand my mind," he responded. Just because Harry left school a little early doesn't mean he doesn't value intelligence.

Her golden laughter tickled Harry’s ears and made him smile. "That's so wise, Mr. Styles." Every time she talks to him, she sounds just like a melody. Her voice is beyond sweet and he will never get enough of her giggles.

A knock on the door pulls Harry out of his thoughts.

"You alright, Hersh?" Jeffery walks into the dressing room breaking Harry out of his thoughts.

"Do I look okay?" He looks towards his manager. This will be the first time Harry is performing for J and he wants it to be absolutely perfect.

"You're missing your jacket," Jeff points out while sending off an email on his phone.

Harry’s eyes grow big as he lets out a big gasp. That's what's wrong! Where did he set it down? The last time he had it was in the green room. Maybe it's still in there?

Harry quickly rushes out only to bump into someone. He quickly reaches around the person's waist to stabilize them. The girl lets out a laugh and Harry's face flushes knowing exactly who that giggle belongs to.

"'Ello, love," he smiles shyly.

Janis smiles while bringing her arms up and around his neck. "Hello, Harry," she hums back, touching their noses softly together.

Harry's eyes flutter shut for a moment before he meets her eyes again. "Sorry for running into ya, I'm a bit of a mess before the show," he admits with a sigh. He has performed some of the biggest venues, but nothing compared to his nerves now. He wanted to impress this girl between his arms. The way her perfume consumes his senses makes him feel a high he never want to come down from.

She looks at his flushed cheeks and can see how embarrassed he is starting to get. "It's okay. I'm a bit of a mess too," she whispers as if it was their little secret, and her words instantly dissolve his nerves.

He glances down at her lips wanting nothing more than to kiss her. Just as he starts to lean in, Jeff walks out causing both of them to freeze and look at him. The manager's eyebrows are raised, and Harry instantly drops his arms from around his sunshine's waist. He misses her warmth already.

Janis looks between the two before recognition crosses her beautiful features. She unhooks her arms from around his neck slowly. "You must be Jeffery," she holds out her hand to shake, "I'm Harry's friend J." Harry doesn't like that term. Friend. Maybe that will change soon?

Jeff finally places where he's seen her before. In the dark club, he only saw her dress and hair. "Ah, so you're the girl that's got H so distracted lately," he rolls his eyes playfully before moving out of the way from Harry's shove, "You can just call me Jeff."

Her laugh sounds through the halls of the stadium. It instantly brings Harry a fuzzy, warm feeling. "To be honest, he's occupied my mind just as much," she smiles at the blushing boy.

"I'm so glad you made it," Harry turns to her with a relieved sigh. Jeff takes that as his cue to give them a moment.

Harry finally takes in what she's wearing. She's in a white two piece, accented with golden jewelry. The color complements her tanned skin. Her blonde hair is straight tonight and frames her face just right. Instead of her red lipstick, she has pink gloss on that makes her lips that much more intriguing.

"I'm excited to see you perform," she replies.

"You'll be in the VIP section. I know you said that you can't be in super crowded places, so having you there will be less people." He was a little nervous about her being at the concert when she told him about not being able to be in the pit at a concert. She promised him it wasn't as serious as it sounded, but his sunshine was slowly growing on him so he was bound to worry.

"That's very sweet of you," she says with a soft look crossing her features. She has never had someone listen to her as intently as Harry has the past few days. It's a nice change to feel heard.

They both look down the hall where his entire band is laughing and heading their way. Adam stops short and looks at the girl standing next to Harry. He can't place where he knows her from. He looks over to the singer’s face and sees him cringing. When it hits him, he lets out the loudest cackle which makes Janis jump slightly.

"Isn't that Kiw--" he starts, but Harry talks over him.

"This is J! She's super cool!" he shouts. This couldn't be more awkward for him. He's going to tell her about the song, but maybe after they start dating so he doesn't seem as desperate. Imagine having a song written about you by a complete stranger who is trying to start a relationship with you…it sounds a little stalkery.

Everyone looks at him oddly before J breaks the silence. "Hello. It's nice to meet you all. I've heard a lot about you guys from Harry." On one of their late night calls, Harry went on and on about his bandmates. They both ended up in tears from laughing so hard after Harry told her about their adventure on the road so far.

"Hi, I'm Adam the bassist. We just came to get Harry. We’re going on soon."

"My name's Mitch," the long-haired guy waves slightly. He seems more quiet than the others.

"I'm Sarah!" the beautiful brunette waves, "Are you ready H?" she asks turning to Harry. He knows the look she’s giving him. It’s the ‘you have a lot of explaining to do’ kind of look.

He nods and turns back to Janis. "Patty, my bodyguard, can show you to your seat," he pulls her closer once again, not caring that his bandmates are watching them. "I'll see you after the show?" he gives her a small pouty look.

"Absolutely," she kisses his cheek before giving him another hug and taking off with the muscled man, "Good luck!" she throws over her shoulder with a wink.

The band walks over to the stage entrance shortly after. Harry can't stop smiling and it's not because of the screaming fans calling his name. One of the staff members helps Harry into his white jacket.

Is it strange that he misses her already?

"Is that the same girl from that bar we went to before going to Jamaica?" Adam raises a curious brow at the lovesick boy.

Harry nods with a pink making its way to his cheeks.

"Does she know the song is about her?"

Harry shakes his head as the pink grows into a deeper shade of red.

Adam booms with laughter. "This concert is going to be so awesome!"

~~~

The concert was one of his best. The crowd was louder than ever. He looked at the VIP section often and could see Janis having a good time. After numerous songs, he finally gets to the one he's been the most nervous to play tonight.

"Alright everyone. I need you guys to be serious for a second," he says into the microphone, "We are having such a good time tonight. I want you guys to keep the same energy especially because I'm about to tell you that I'm having your baby!" The stadium erupts in cheers so loud he’ll be surprised if they have their hearing tomorrow.

The rock song starts of strong. The heavy beat sounds through the whole stadium as all the fans sing along. As the song goes on, Janis notices the familiarity of the words. She knows the song played at the club but that's not why the lyrics are bouncing around her head. As Harry gives his all to his performance, he makes eye contact with her when it finally clicks.

Normal people might be put off at the fact that someone wrote a song about them without knowing them at all, but Janis isn't the average person. She starts laughing hysterically and singing along. She's going to tease him about this later.

As everything starts to wrap up, Janis follows Patty back to the green room. She goes to the restroom before the night continues and by the time she enters the green room, all the band members are there except Harry. She goes up to a few of the people she hasn't met to introduce herself.

Harry walks into the room after a few minutes. He made sure to shower and change right after the show so he didn't have to part from his sunshine for too long. He sees his girl laughing with all of his friends and he couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through his entire body. He can see himself falling for this girl very easily.

A small smile pulls at his lips before he begins approaching her with a timid look. What if she didn't have fun? What if she didn't like any of the songs? What if--

All his worries went away when he met her eyes and they grew bright with admiration. "There's the Rockstar!" she exclaimed while throwing her arms around him. He grabbed her tightly and spun around.

He laughs slightly at how happy she looks. "I'm so glad you liked it, love."

She pulls back but he holds his arms around her firmly, so she won't get too far away. "It was truly a sight to see. You have this way about you that draws all attention to you. You're mesmerizing, Harry," a blush covers her cheeks, not meaning to say that last part.

"Thank you," he kisses her cheek lightly. He loves the slight pink that coats them. "What was your favorite part?"

"Probably when you held up the handcuffs," she smirks. Now it's Harry's turn to blush. Before they could continue talking, they got sucked into conversation with everyone in the room. Everyone planned on going back to the hotel and hanging out until the adrenaline of from the performance wore off, but Harry and Janis had other ideas.

"I think we were just going to go back to J's apartment for a little bit," Harry tells them. With that said, they say their goodbyes before exiting the venue with some security. Janis already had a car waiting for her outside, so Harry just tagged along.

The ride was relatively silent. It was comfortable and definitely not overrated. Harry had talked to her every day since he met her again, but he loved being able to physically pull her closer to him. Touching her was almost like a drug to him. He couldn't get enough of this woman and for the life of him, he didn’t understand why.

When they pull up to a tall building in the city, they both step out. She thanks her driver before taking Harry's hand and leading him into the lobby. From the golden tiling and pearl accents, he could tell that this place is very posh.

"Good evening, Ms. Rogers," the man at the door greats. He seems to be in his late forties with the graying of his hair. For some reason, her full name plays through his mind like he should know where it's from, but he just pushes that thought away.

"Hello, Mason! How's Lily?" she asks him with a kind smile.

"She's great! She loves the books you sent her. Can't stop reading them before bed!" he laughs.

"I'm so glad she likes them. They were some of my favorites when I was younger. You'll have to bring her by sometime soon so we can all go for lunch," she touches his arm before she grabs Harry’s hand again.

"I'll be sure to bring her by soon," he smiles kindly. J nods before bidding goodbye.

As step into the elevator, Harry turns to her with a fond smile on his cherry lips. "You're so adorable," he kisses her nose as she bursts into giggles.

"You're so sweet," she kisses his lips lightly before the elevator doors open, signaling they have arrived. There were only 4 doors in the long hallway. She walked over to the last one on the left and pulled out her key. When she opened the door, Harry faltered slightly.

She told him before that she comes from a wealthy family, but he thought that just meant she came from some money. The apartment that she is staying in is easily one of the most expensive places in New York. The decorations were filled with every color under the rainbow. Surprisingly, nothing was obnoxious. The more he looks around, the more he knows this is exactly what he expected her apartment to look like. There was nothing dull or boring on her walls. Painted pieces, flowers and photos cover the entire place.

"This place is amazing," Harry says under his breath.

"Thank you. Would you like something to drink?"  she offers.

"Some water would be lovely," she nods, taking his hand and leading him to the giant living room before heading to the open kitchen.

He takes this moment to really look around. There is lots of artwork around on the walls and sculptures scattered around. There's a large television in front of an all-white couch. The kitchen is behind the couch without a wall closing it off. This place is so open and vibrant that it just makes sense that this is where she would be. She's always been open and honest with Harry, and it has scared him a little bit at first. Even with that fear in him, he is determined to push himself towards being like her. Open and free.

"Here you go," she hands him the water before guiding him to the patio overlooking New York City. Her presence is so consuming, and he knows he could never get enough of it.

Once they settle on the outside couch overlooking the city, Harry finally asks the question that has been on his mind since they left the venue. "So, how did you like the show honestly?" he takes a sip of his drink.

"I meant everything I said before. You were meant to be on stage, Harry," she responds with a soft smile.

"Thank you, love," he says. He has been using that term of affection more and more lately because every time he does, a light pink coats her cheeks, and he can't get enough of how beautiful it makes her. "What was your favorite song?"

She thinks for a moment before smirking. "I really enjoyed that unreleased song 'Medicine'! Why wasn't it on the album?"

"You and everyone else," Harry chuckles lightly looking down at his lap. "It just didn't feel right putting it with all the other songs," he shrugs noncommittally.

She rolls her eyes. "I need a studio version, Harold."

Harry cackles at the nickname before sipping his drink again. "That's not my name, love, and you know it. But I'll see if I could find one for you."

She smiles cheekily at him. "I know. I did really like that song, but I'd have to say the one about 'Kiwi' was my all-time favorite," she giggles. Harry starts to fidget slightly. "Very creative with the words there. How did you come up with that one?"

"Um, well you know, I-" he starts to stutter, "You know, I d-don't like putting a definite meaning behind my songs just in case someone has their own meaning behind a song, uh," he stops himself cringing slightly at his rambling.

Janis laughs at his discomfort and she sounds just like a song. Her head throws back and her eyes squint closed. Harry couldn’t find her more beautiful. Once she settles down, she breathes out a sigh. "You know how I said I got into the wrong crowd a while back?" she waits for him to remember one of their late-night conversations. "Well, that guy was one of them. He was good fun and could take my mind off somethings that happened," Harry inwardly cringes about how he would do that exactly, "We went out that night because I'd just gotten back from visiting home, so I needed to relax somehow. While we were out, his girlfriend showed up. When she confronted me, those words just popped out of my mouth. I told her 'I'm having your baby, it's none of your business' as in, 'I'm with your guy now, what are you gonna do about it?'" she smiles at the memory.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at how crazy the story was. "R-really?" he gasps out.

She nods slightly. "Yeah. I won’t have used those words if I wasn’t drunk. Then later that night, I found out he was just using me to get to his father to release his trust fund. She was his actual girlfriend, and he was just a sleazeball using me," she shrugs, but Harry could tell the situation affected her more than she let on.

"So, you guys aren't friends anymore?" he asks curiously.

"No. I quickly dove into my studies and got back on the right path. I'm a good girl now," she giggles, "I even told his father about it, so both of them don't like me very much."

Harry shifts closer to her and pulls her onto his lap, "Well, I like you lots," he smiles feeling so lucky to have this girl in his arms. Her returning smile stuns him from being so bright.

"You do?" she confirms. He nods. "Well, Rockstar, I like you lots too," she kisses his lips gently. It was meant to be a small peck, but once he tasted her strawberry lip gloss, he couldn't let her get too far away. "Wanna know something really funny though?"

Harry hums, just wanting to hear more of her voice. He has no alcohol in his system, yet he feels just as tipsy as he would after a few drinks.

"I'm allergic to kiwis," she whispers to him.

"No shit?" Harry bursts into fits of laughter. She nods truthfully, join in on his laughter.

The rest of the summer evening was filled with giggles and stolen kisses. He made sure to keep her in his hold, within kissing distance. Every time their lips touched, he felt a high like no other.

~~~

Harry left in the early hours of the morning to get some rest before their breakfast date they decided on. Harry planned a perfect date for them. They were going for a picnic in one of his favorite places.

Harry picks her up from her apartment around nine in the morning. He texted her he was in the lobby. He's distracted on his phone when the elevator gets to the main floor.

Janis walks out and sees him standing there. She admires his beauty. It's an unusual feeling of being wanted by such an amazing man. All her life, she has been loved, but she found out rather quickly who her real friends are. Some people only found her interesting because of who her parents were. No one ever really cared about what she was like, so to have Harry not know exactly who she is, is quiet refreshing.

"You're so cute when you smile," her voice startles him. He looks up at his sunshine. She's sporting a lovely pastel green sundress and a pink sun hat. Her perfume drifts around him causing that familiar fuzzy feeling. He breathes it in an out.

"I've got a lot to smile about when I'm around you," he coos and greets her with a kiss on the cheek. Color flushes Janis’ face as she giggles, trying to not show how much his words affected her.

"You're too cheesy sometime," her voice is soft.

"Anything to make you blush like that," he grabs her bag and carries it out as they head to the car.

She laughs at how cute he is. He makes a funny face in response to her musical laughter, causing more fits.

The picnic was set up by the time they got there. He'll have to thank Jeff for setting everything up. They are hidden from the public by a few trees, just like that first night they spent together. They sit down on the blanket and take out some of the food that's packed. He made sure some of her favorites were in there. On a light night Skype call, she told him she could never get enough berries.

"Oh! Strawberries, gimme!" she makes grabby hands for the fruit. Harry laughs and gives it to her. She opens the container and grabs a bright red strawberry. Harry watches as she brings the fruit up to her mouth. It's the cutest thing when her tongue peeks out to guide the fruit into her warm mouth.

Harry's brain goes empty as she takes a bite and closes her eyes to savor the flavor. Her eyes close for a moment and her head lulls back. Oh God.

He looks back to the picnic basket, so he doesn't turn this date into something it isn't. He hands her a pre-made sandwich and grabs one for himself too. They get to talking about everything under the sun, wanting to get to know each other better.

"What's your favorite book?" she asks while popping in another grape.

"Um, that should be an easy question, but I've read so many," he thinks out loud. He found himself doing that so often with her. He knew she would never judge him, so he felt free to speak his mind whenever she was around. There are only a few people that make him feel that way.

"Well, which one are you reading right now?" she prompts him after a few seconds of silence.

"I'm reading 'Love is a Mixtape' by Rob Sheffield," he says. He is about to elaborate, because it's not a well-known book when she speaks up.

"I love that book," she says before drinking some water. "Rob's actually a friend of mine. He's a brilliant writer and definitely someone who is overlooked." Harry's jaw goes slack slightly. She looks at him oddly. "What?"

"You're friends with Rob?" Harry can't wrap his brain around how they would be in the same circles.

She nods. "He's actually friends with my father. My dad is...well, influential so Rob actually interviewed him in the early 90s. Ever since, they became friends. He's a sweet guy, very genuine."

Harry booms with laughter. "He's a good friend of mine too! That's how I got onto the book. On tour, I need something to occupy my mind sometimes, so I started reading his book."

"That's awesome! Maybe if we didn't meet at the bar, he would have introduced us," she smiles.

"That'd be pretty funny," he takes a sip of his water. "What book are you reading right now?"

"Well, it's not my favorite," she cringes slightly, "But it's called 'Watermelon Sugar' by Richard Brautigan." She makes a sour face at the mention of it. When she looks up to Harry, he is frozen in thought.

That book used to be Camille's favorite. This is the first time he has thought of her in the past few weeks. Oddly enough, it doesn't hurt as much as it had before. Spending time with Janis has opened his mind to new things and a brightness he has never known.

"Are you alright, Harry," Janis breaks him out of his thoughts by touching his arm gently.

"Um, yeah, sorry," he shakes his head. "My, um, my ex used to love that book," he shrugs.

Maybe she should have been uncomfortable with talking about the guy she like's ex, but she's not the jealous type.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" she asks while finishing off her sandwich.

He thinks about it for a second. Does he want to talk about her? No. It's not because he is avoiding the pain. It's because he truly doesn't find the need to. He shakes his head and looks at the girl in front of him. She's not who he thought she'd be. She is so much more. He pulls her closer to him.

"I'm okay. Thank you though," he kisses her temple. This feeling inside him is rising through his chest. He's felt it on more than one occasion with her. It's so wonderful and warm. "Why don't you like it?"

Her bottom lip pouts out slightly and her eyebrows draw together in thought. Harry can't help but find her absolutely adorable. "Originally, I thought it would be good because it has one of my favorite fruits in the title, but I was wrong. It's just a really weird story. I do like actual watermelon sugar though," she laughs, "It's sweet and delicious, just like you," she kisses his lips slowly before pulling back.

Harry's eyes are still closed from the taste of her on his tongue. He needs to change the subject quickly before he creates a scandal in the middle of this park, "So, you said that you have plans at the end of this month?"

She nods her head, popping another grape in her mouth. "I'm hosting an event for the charity that I run."

"Huh?" Can this girl be any more perfect?

"When I was younger, I always wanted to make some kind of impact. I saw so many people not using their voices to stand up for the right things or being completely selfish,” she scoffs while rolling her eyes at the memories, “One of the things I am most passionate about is learning. I want everyone to be able to learn whatever their heart desires, so I started a fund to sponsor children who want to learn about things that schools might not teach them. I’m working with art galleries, recording studios, research labs, and a few other companies to mentor these kids. They will have a chance to really see how things they are passionate about work."

"Oh my gosh, you're literally a saint, no wondering I'm falling--" Harry chuckles before he realizes what he was about to say. "Uh, I mean, uh--"

"What was that?" Janis asks while placing her arms around his neck to play with the baby hairs at the bottom of his neck.

Harry looks down blushing before looking up through his lashes. "I really like you Janis, and I, uh, I can see myself falling really hard for you. I don't know if I'm reading the signs wrong or something--"

Instead of letting him ramble on, she interrupts him with a kiss. Every word that is unsaid between the two seems to flow through them in that moment. She tastes like strawberries. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing on after he ate. Their lips move in perfect sync. Harry feels like it’s so natural to be with her on this summer morning. Her perfume surrounds his senses. He breathes her in and out. Janis is the one to pull back first. She leaves one last peck on his awaiting lips and smiles.

"I can see myself falling for you too," she giggles.

Harry lets out a breath of relief. He grabs onto her disposable camera and takes a picture of the two of them smiling. They take turns posing for each other causing them both to fall into fits of laughter.

After a while, they pack up the rest of the picnic and take it to the car before going on a walk down the street. Harry doesn't have to be at sound check until two hours before the concert, so he has plenty of time to spend with his sunshine. They walk for a few hours, going to the little shops or the small bakeries along the street. They never let go of each other, that is until he hears an eerily familiar person call out his name.

He turns around to be met with the familiar icy blue eyes. "Camille?" There was no reason for her to be in New York, unless...

"Hi Harry! I was in the states and thought I'd catch your show," she shrugs with a grin. "Theo and I were thinking about going to DC for your show there in a few days," Camille notices the girl standing behind him and gives her a smile.

No one talks for a second, so Janis takes the opportunity to use the skills she learned when she was younger to defuse the awkward tension. She assumed this was the ex they were just talking about.

"Hello," she smiles genuinely at the obvious model, "I'm J." She didn't want to introduce herself as anything to Harry just in case Camille took it as her being aggressive. They just admitted their feelings for goodness sake.

"Camille," Janis goes in for a handshake, but the model pulls her in to kisses her cheeks, "It's lovely to meet you!"

"You as well. I love your top by the way," Janis says conversationally. She can't help but notice the beauty of the woman in front of her. It makes a lot of sense how this woman could be Harry’s ex-girlfriend.

"Thank you! I love your dress," the compliment is a little over enthusiastic, but luckily Harry broke out of his silence before Janis could think too much about it.

"So, you guys are coming to the show in DC?" Harry asks nervously. In his silence, he really thought about his emotions. He knows he is over Camille, but if her and her new boyfriend come to the show, he might have a harder time performing. The wound still hurts where she left, but he has Janis now.

Camille nods and looks down at the watch on her wrist. "Oh! I'm late for a lunch meeting. I'll see you in DC," she looks over to Janis and smiles, "I look forward to seeing you again."

"Absolutely!" she replies as the model walks away. The pair walk slowly down the street again. "Are you okay, Harry?" Janis asks after a few minutes of silence.

Harry laughs softly and pulls her to his side kissing her temple again. "Yes, love. It's just a little odd I guess."

"I bet. Will you be okay at the DC show?" she questions. She isn't sure when it is, but she's hoping she will be free to go. The reason she wants to be there isn't the fact that his ex will be there. It's the fact that Harry seems a little shaken by just one conversation with her. As someone that cares for him immensely, she wants to be there for him even if he might not need her.

"I think so," his eyebrows crease in thought. This is vastly different. Camille was very jealous when they were together. That was one of the reasons for their fights. Janis seems oddly content with the fact that his ex is talking to him. "Would you like to come to the show?"

She can sense that he isn't asking for her benefit. He wants her there. "What day?"

"It's this next Sunday."

Her charity even is on Monday, so she should be able to make it as long as she leaves in enough time. "I'm free. I've got the benefit the day after, but it should all work out," she smiles up at him.

"Lovely," he says. He's not talking about her being able to come, he's talking about her in general.

[wherethingscomebackx]

Top 25 Larry fics of 2019

It’s that time again!

You may be familiar with these lists:

Top 25 Larry fics of 2016

Top 25 Larry fics of 2017

Top 25 Larry fics of 2018

As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2019 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out! 

25.) Foolishy Laying Our Hearts on the Table by @runaway-train-works (11k)

“You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten.

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

Or

The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

24.) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices by @toomanydreamers (126k)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

23.) all we can do is keep breathing by @avocadolouie (310k)

“Harry, I-I’m so sorry…” Louis stutters out, trying to keep his voice level and even, to portray a depiction of strength, but with the way Harry is looking at him, staring at him like he has a personal passage way straight to Louis’ soul, it’s so hard, nearly impossible.

That simple opening phrase, that short introductory acknowledgement that is often rushed out so easily, painlessly, at a safe distance. Giving a doctor the ability to portray empathy without true emotion, without feeling the full brunt and sheer force of the underlying pain itself.

But Louis feels it, he feels the crushing agony laced behind the phrase, he feels the weight of the painful words slipping from his lips, the cause and effect that the three-word expression holds. The distantly empty “I’m so sorry” that doctors throw out in self-preservation, isn’t at all empty for him. Louis recognizes it, he understands it, he feels it.

--

a fated story of two broken and battered boys who barely survived the unimaginable and how the love of one little brave girl defies all the odds and somehow puts them back together.

22.) Raise a Glass to the Four of Us by @2tiedships2 (25k)

Louis stared at his luggage.

Well. Apparently not his luggage, because the clothing he was looking at currently was a: worth more than everything he currently possessed, b: not his size at all, and c: more suited for a fancy ass lawyer than a holiday in NYC with his best mates.

“Ooh, nice loafers,” Niall said as he pulled one out of the suitcase. “I love the rainbows.”

“Okay,” Liam began. “What do you want to do first? Eat, shop for new clothes, or spend hours on the phone with the airline?”

Louis continued to stare at the luggage.

21.) You Have to Retreat to Advance by @2tiedships2 (18k)

“What am I going to do, Perrie? I can’t go on this retreat by myself. My boss literally said he wants to meet my omega.” Harry paused. “Okay, not literally but he definitely expects me to be bringing him.”

“Don’t people go on these things by themselves?” Perrie asked.

Harry shrugged. “Of course but that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point?”

“My boss is expecting to meet my omega! I don’t have an omega!”

“Is this a paying gig?” Perrie asked.

“You mean paying an omega to spend the weekend with me? I’m sure the resort has nice amenities. Does that count?”

“I take that as a no,” Perrie said with an eye roll. “It’s okay, Louis might be willing to do it for free.”

“Who’s Louis?”

Or the one where Harry is expected to bring his longterm omega to the company's mountain retreat. Since he hadn't told anyone that they'd broken up months ago, he now has to find someone willing to play the part.

20.) A Darker Shade of Love by LittleSpoonStyles94 (750k)

Louis is a 30 year old multi-billionaire with a very dark past. He is violent and is a sadist with a taste for pain. Harry Styles is a 19 year old student who sets out to London after being kicked out by his homophobic father to follow his dreams. He wants to go to the best University to study but he needs a lot of money so he starts to work as a part time stripper at a gay club to support his studies and his life. The club he works at, Garland's, is part owned by Louis Tomlinson. When they meet, its life changing for the both of them.

19.) You Still Make Sense to Me by @amories (37k)

Harry, Louis, and their family navigate life together through the years.

18.) Like Water Over Fire (Like Water On Fire) by @mcssymon (119k)

“I’m sorry your highness, I think I misheard you, did you really say that you are hoping to meet your husband?” Oh god, Louis panicked. Was Prince Harry gay? Was he even allowed to be gay? Surely he wouldn’t be allowed to have a selection from a group of men, right?

Prince Harry looked partly like he wanted to laugh, but also very, very nervous about what he had just admitted, “Yes, sir, you heard correctly”

Or Prince Harry has 46 men and 13 weeks to find the husband of his dreams, Louis has a limited amount to time to live out a royal fantasy. They might just be exactly what the other needs.

17.) waiting for the tides to meet by @nauticalleeds (59k)

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

16.) Call Answered by @vondrostes (249k)

The day after his 27th birthday, Harry Styles attempts suicide. Louis is flown to his bedside to unravel the mystery of why he did it after a flash drive is found with a note attached, addressed to Louis. On it are a collection of 78 songs, all written for different dates from their past.

15.) Counterbalance by @louandhazaf (44k)

Harry Styles loves two things: teaching ballet and racing motorcycles. Those two worlds collide when his greatest rival on the track, Louis “Tommo” Tomlinson brings his tiny siblings to Harry’s class.

14.) Everywhere and Nowhere by @2tiedships2 (16k)

Niall took a seat and said, "Apparently Louis' downstairs neighbor is a fan of giving Louis creepy gifts. Maybe I should go introduce myself and tell him that Louis actually prefers food."

"What has he given you?" Liam asked.

Louis shrugged as it were no big deal. "There was a rabbit's foot keychain on the door a little after he left from introducing himself and there was a small teddy bear sitting by my door tonight. Obviously I can't prove it's from him, but they seem to have his scent. I could be wrong though."

"Wow," Liam said, looking deep in thought. "That's old school."

"What's old school?" Niall asked. "Giving creepy gifts?"

"I've never known an alpha to do it, to be honest, but he's courting you."

Louis couldn't contain his look of disbelief directed at Liam. "He's courting me. Like some sort of romantic shit they'd do in the 1800s or something?"

13.) Swallow The Knife by whoknows (76k)

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

Louis already knows that, of course. It doesn’t do anything to stop the pleased squirm in his belly every time Harry proves it, though. They fight like nobody’s business, both of them too stubborn to pull their punches when they’re arguing, and it used to get them in trouble, but they always make up.

Adrenaline makes Louis loose-lipped, and they both know it. He tightens his arms around Harry’s neck, buries his face in his hair. “I missed you,” he confesses, quiet. “Doesn’t feel the same up there by myself.”

12.) and oh, all of your saturdays could end up in woe by ihavetoomuchfreetime (70k)

a fic in which louis' in a long-term relationship with an abusive asshole, niall, zayn and liam are so far but not really, and harry is that all too friendly guy who works in sainsbury's.

11.) thinking about the t-shirt you slept in by @absoloutenonsense (52k)

Harry's alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam's latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis' financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.

10.) Consequences by @allwaswell16 (78k)

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

9.) Strawberries & Cigarettes by @dimpled-halo (76k)

Harry looks up and immediately freezes. Next to Ms. Archie stands the boy from just the other day. The boy with the leather jacket and chipped black nails, that might or might not be sketched in the very book Harry has just placed on the table in front of him. The leather jacket is missing today, probably because they aren’t allowed as part of their required uniform attire, but Harry can still see the fading black nail polish on his nails, and eyeliner around his eyes. Harry’s mouth goes a little dry. This boy is so intriguing to him.

“Ye-yes, Ms. Archie?” Harry tries to play it cool, but he’s almost positive that his cheeks are burning red, and he’s relieved neither of them can tell how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

The boy seems to also recognize Harry, because his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“Harry is at the top of his class. He’s your best bet at getting familiar with things around here.” She explains.

Louis nods, his smirk still very prominent on his face. “Thank you Ms. Archie. I’ll be sure to take advantage of young Harold here.”

*

Summary: Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

8.) Pain makes people change by Deidei (113k)

An organization called Canis Lupus existed solely for changing humans imprisoned in their wolf form back to their human form. Some people after experiencing some traumatic event can only ‘’protect’’ themselves from the pain by forgetting everything. To do that, to feel safe, they shift into their wolf form.

Which they'll be stuck in forever should no one intervene.

Louis Tomlison went through a traumatic experience at the age of twelve in which he lost his mother, to make the pain go away he shifted into a wolf and fled. He survived in the wild as a wolf for five years until Canis Lupis caught him... Though he wasn't alone, he had a pup at his side.

7.) Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top) by @angelichl (113k)

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

6.) Enemies with benefits by ssii8 (267k)

Where Harry is captain of basketball team and Louis is captain of football team and they hate each other. But somehow this doesn't stop them from having sex.

And everything is perfect until they start to feel something more.

5.) Ready To Fall by whoknows (21k)

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

4.) Close to Nowhere by @angelichl (34k)

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Louis threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans.

“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.”

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

3.) Play Pretend, Find a Friend? by @angelichl (40k)

They had to pull back for air. Louis surveyed the guy’s face, in awe of his blown pupils and sharp jawline, the way their shared spit glistened on his lips.

“Hi,” he breathed. He blinked, and came back to himself a little bit, blushing at his own boldness. “Sorry. Is this okay?”

The stranger removed his right hand from the curve of Louis’ waist in order to cup his jaw, tilting it up to the angle he desired. He pressed their lips together, murmuring, “Definitely.” And then he kissed harder.

When Louis sees his ex-boyfriend kissing a random girl at a party, he acts out of blind jealousy. He kisses the first guy he can find. It turns into a thing.

INSPIRED BY CLOUDS.

2.) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat by @angelichl (34k)

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

1.) All My Colours by IceQueenRia (267k)

Green… yellow… red. Red! RED!!!

Some people were born Dominant and others submissive. Sixteen year old Louis Tomlinson was a submissive and was proud to be so… until he was forced to his knees for the first time. The man before him was every subs nightmare, an abusive Dom, the kind who didn’t believe in the colour ‘red’ unless it was in the form of blood.

There were others, but Louis was the ‘favourite’ and he was the one the Dom liked to ‘play with’ the most. In fact, when the rescue team arrived, Louis was the one currently providing ‘service’ to the Dom.

Or

Louis, Zayn and Niall are abused subs. Liam Payne is their devoted new Guidance Counsellor who just wants to make Niall smile and hear Zayn speak. As for Louis, he knows his guidance won’t be enough to help the boy heal. No, Louis Tomlinson needs something very special and very specific. He needs Harry Styles.

[kaylathekittykat225]

Tears in the Heart // Steve Harrington X Wheeler!Reader

Warning/s: language, angst, fluff? Flufting? Flirting? I don’t know man. I just went into a frenzy writing.

Word Count: Y’all it keeps getting going, I need to be stopped; 25k. I am sorry, I got excited

Guys, y’all are egging me on to write angst, and angst is my love somehow, don’t stop. And it’s all fine that angst is how I write, that and slow burrrrrrrrrn! Okay go onto reading.

This one was requested by gwenandtheunfortunatename

Hey!! I just love your writing and long fics!!! Can u do one where the reader is a female!Wheeler reader and feels invisible with her family but actually has a few friends in school? Nancy and Steve are dating but then he slowly starts to notice how she doesn’t treat her sister well (maybe the reader is missing from school one day?) or doesn’t pay attention so it becomes a concern for him or someth??

Here’s my Masterlist.

Enjoy.

—–

Watching paint dry was always the most infuriating thing, especially for you as someone who was so excited for the first layer of paint to dry so that you could start applying the next layer or just wanting your beautiful art piece to be done so you could feel accomplished with what you just did. Watching paint dry was an infuriating task, and yet here you were, dancing around your room to the music your radio was blasting for you while you continued to wait for the first layer of what you were painting to dry enough so as not to smudge.

Some great artists prefer to work even through the wet paint: Monte used it to blend two colors together seamlessly, Van Gogh used it to have the colors stand out more when he used the globs of paint to add dimension to the canvas, Bob Ross used the wet paint to ring out the true beauty of the world and showing how colors don’t stand out, but truly blend in together. 

You worked differently than those guys, for one thing you weren’t a famous painter like they were. But you couldn’t stand mixing colors together from different layers. The composition looked messy when you tried doing it, so you knew you felt more comfortable with layering and drying paint on top of itself. Just was not the thing for you.

The song changed and a grin grew on your face as you heard the guitar riff opening and felt a rush of energy surging through you. Your paint brush was held in your mouth between your teeth and your dancing started back up again as you cranked the volume up a little louder to get the entire room shaking. The music was so loud, and you were so in the zone of mixing up your next shade of reddish pink that you didn’t hear someone screaming at you about the volume of your radio. They noticed when your volume went up and that you weren’t noticing their calling your name. 

You didn’t notice them until they turned off your radio entirely and tried calling your name again. “Y/N.” Your name was called again, this time it startled you to the point that you let out a small scream that let you drop your paint brush from your mouth and strike the ground. Spinning to face your radio, you saw your mother staring at you with a look on her face that you often received when you did something wrong. “It’s almost midnight, Y/N. Holly and Michael are in bed, where you should be, and your sister is trying to study for an exam tomorrow. Now is not the time for you to let the entire neighborhood hear what you are listening to.”

“Sorry, mom.” You grabbed your paint brush off the ground and looked back up to see your mother had been replaced by your older sister. “Sorry I disturbed your studying. What class is it for?” While you asked your question, you worked on moving your easel from the middle of your room to one of the corners while also chucking your paints into a box along with your brushes. 

When your sister didn’t answer, you looked up at her to see her just staring at you from the door. She had this little smile on her face, one that didn’t show any emotion though. “Oh, it’s not like you care about my test. All you worry about is your art and painting. Next time, at least put on some better music, not your shitty trash.” And with that, she shut the door behind her with a flick of her hair over her shoulder as she left. 

You finished cleaning up after your paint dance, not giving too much thought to what she said to you as you pulled your sweater over your head and changed into your pajamas. Comments like that have been a common back and forth between the two of you ever since you entered high school with Nancy. 

Maybe it was something to remind you that you were a year younger and she knew her way around the school better than you did. Honestly why she was doing this was unknown to you, so you just rolled with it. She never said anything mean or anything like that, just…

You shook your head as you pushed your covers back and slid into bed, getting ready to pull your lamp cord when there was a loud thud coming from your window. Instinct told you to ignore it and just go to sleep leaving whatever outside your window outside, it was most likely a squirrel who ran into the glass of your window while trying to get back onto its nest. 

And you tried. You did click your lamp off and pulled your covers up to your chin, letting your eyes fall shut as you worked on falling asleep for tomorrow's day. As soon as your eyes were closed however, another tap rattled your window, and something was making noises outside the glass. “Just ignore it.” That was your mantra for the time being as you did so, pretending the sound wasn’t there and that you could just. Fall. Asleep. 

Tap tap tap. “Dammit.” You groaned while throwing the blankets off you, following your intuition through the dark room to where your window should be, having forgotten to send the light back through the room as your annoyed self walked closer to the window. “I’m going to kill this fucking squirrel and eats its nu-” Your rant to yourself was interrupted as soon as you forced your blinds open and you saw a face staring back at you in the darkness outside. 

A shriek left your mouth as you took a step backwards, stumbling away from the horrifying sight of someone staring back at you in the night. The face itself jumped back ever so slightly from where it was pressed against your window when it saw you too. 

The two of you stared at each other for a few more seconds before you recognized who the hell was staring into your bedroom window. It was your sister’s boyfriend, Steve Fricking Harrington. Why the hell was he staring into your window?

Pulling open your window, you looked over at your clock and saw that it was midnight, stating this to the boy who was hanging from your window frame, his fingertips turning red from holding on. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, Snow White. I’m sorry I didn’t want to fall to my death.” His voice came out strained as he moved to pull himself into your window. 

“Whoa! I didn’t say you could come in! What are you doing on my windowsill? Stop climbing in my window!” Your voice was a whisper that also counted as yelling as you tried stopping him from entering your room, not to much avail though. “Harrington, what what are you doing here?!” 

“Shut up, Wheeler.” Steve finished coming through the window, somehow finding a way to trip as his foot finished coming through, falling into you and sending the two of you down to the floor. “Jesus, Wheeler, sorry to say, but I do have a girlfriend. You are being very forward though.” From where you were laying on the floor with him kneeling over you on all fours, Harrington had this shit eating grin on his face which caused a slight anger to boil inside you.

Instead of answering him, you shoved your hand into his face and pushed him away, telling him to get off you with a mutter. “Wh-what are you doing here, Harrington? It’s midnight and you are in my room. What the hell is going on?” Standing to your feet, you watched him also pull himself up while shifting his hair around to make sure it stood where he wanted it to be.

“Funny story there, Wheeler. But that is a story for another time.” He spoke to you as though his being in your room was not a pressing matter. “What I do need to know, Wheeler, is how pissed your dad would be about finding me here?” Steve craned his neck to look out your window, apparently trying hard not to be spotted as he was looking for most likely your father. 

Scoffing, you sat back down in your bed, staring at him from where you sat. “Honestly, it’s not my dad you should be worried about.” He sighed at your response in relief. “My mom on the other hand…” You made a face that got the message across, because your dad was an amazing man, but your mother had her own mind that definitely got in the way of a lot of things your sister and even yourself sometimes when Karen Wheeler brought her mind to a stop. And Nancy seemingly sneaking her boyfriend into her room next to yours was definitely not something your mom would be fine with.

You heard a quiet ‘shit’ and felt a small feeling of smugness rush through you as quickly as the cold overtook your room. “If you’re gonna sneak in and out of Nancy’s room, honestly it would be quieter just to go from my room to the shed on the other side of the room.” Steve stared at you curiously at this suggestion, even you yourself were shocked at your offering, but you really couldn’t take that back after he quietly inched his way closer to the window at the other end of your room. 

Standing up, you made your way over to be next to him as he pulled your curtains away from the window, revealing that your window had easier access to get to the ground than your sister and the garage. “Plus, I have direct access to the woods, so my parents won’t notice your car around if you park it behind that big tree back there.” While pointing all these features out, you noticed that he was staring at you with a look that read extreme confusion. 

“Why...why are you helping me sneak into your sister’s room?” You both were wondering that, but he didn’t have to voice it like that. Your face grew warmer as you fumbled for words about why you did this, because you didn’t really know why except for the excuse of not wanting them to get caught and then the entire family being forced not to ever leave again. That was a good excuse, it did the trick though. 

Because you couldn’t explain why you would stick your neck out like that, for Nancy and Harrington. Nothing against the two of them, but you were too impartial to the two of them to risk anything. 

So you scoffed and gave him the lame excuse you thought of and worked on shooing him out of your room. “Okay, okay. Jeez, Wheeler, I’m leaving. Sorry to whoever has to deal with sleep deprived you for the rest of their lives.” He shimmed himself out of the window, forgetting completely to close your other window, forcing you to get back out of bed and shut it before shutting the window he just dropped down from.

You watched him sneak his way to the front of the house and hopefully make an uneventful exit before you pulled the curtains in front of your window shut, bringing your world around you into darkness that you found oddly uncomfortable while standing in the middle of the room. 

Sleep didn’t come as easily as you wanted it to; it never really took you over, leaving you to sleep more restlessly than normal and thus a sleep deprived Y/N took to the world. Your first few periods floated past you honestly like a dream, nothing happened, just the teacher murmuring on about their respective subjects. Nothing interesting to you really.

Your mother frequently got on your case to pay more attention in these classes, because every year, like clockwork, during parent teachers week, your teachers would comment on how you needed to remember to turn in your homework, or if you do turn in your homework, to not doodle across half of it. It was always commenting about your behavior in classes and school, how you looked like you would rather be somewhere else than cooped up there all day. Your mother always told you to do better. Why did you have to be interested in painting? Why not a sport or be good at school like your sister because brains could get you a good husband and an easy life. 

Your father never spoke up during these meetings, sitting there because he was the man of the family and should be an example for his daughter to marry. He never took your side, but he also never defended your mother and her beliefs of how you should follow in your sister’s footsteps. It was never a secret, but your dad gifted you various paints, brushes, new pencils. When you were running out of a specific paint, or needed a new book or canvas, you found one more always tucked away in your closet, where you thought you checked, but there it was anyway. 

There were few things in the world you knew for certain, you loved painting and how it freed your soul, how excited you were to graduate and head to California to get away from this damned town, but one thing you were certain on, was that you were not unloved by your father. You never doubted his love even if it wasn’t on his sleeve like your mother’s love of Nancy. 

Speaking of Nancy, honestly after last nights...odd interaction between Harrington and yourself, you didn’t know how to look him or your sister in the eye. You had nothing to be ashamed of, it's not like you kissed him or anything, just the thought alone made you shudder, so why were you unable to look at them throughout the school day? 

“Ugh!” You groaned at these stupid thoughts that were plaguing your thoughts and slammed your head down onto your notebook on the lunch table you were sitting at. Your sudden noise and head banging caused the other occupants of your table to look up; Matt and Clare had been giving each other looks all lunch with how you were acting today.

On any given day you were still quiet and almost always doodling away in the margins of your notebooks or going so far as to pulling your full sketchbook out just to get a bigger picture going. But you didn’t have a book open in front of you or a pencil in your hand, instead your fingers were rapping against the hard table and your leg was shaking so bad that you were shaking the table. 

You were so out of it that you couldn’t hear your own name being called. “Y/N...Y/N.” Matt had been repeatedly calling your name the last five minutes after he finished up his own lunch and was eyeing your Cheetos that hadn’t been touched. Clare told him to leave you alone, but your ginger friend was ever persistent in stealing your food. “What if I just take the bag from her?” He directed the question towards Clare next to him while staring at your bag of snacks. 

“I mean she’s out of it enough that I kind of want to see what happens.” Clare was watching you just as intently, your head was still down on the table. “She may have died; I haven’t seen her move since her head fell down.” Clare said Y/N and died and Matt let out the loudest gasp the cafeteria ever heard; she didn’t honestly know which one to be more embarrassed about, the fact that heads turned or that not enough heads turned for this to be the first time for him to be this obnoxious in the school lunchroom. 

While Matt was busy slapping a bruise excitedly on Clare’s arm, you raised your head up and roughly rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands. “I’m not dead, Matt. I just...I can’t figure out this drawing.” 

“No, no, no, no. But wait.” Matt decided to ignore your distress and Clare’s slapping his hand away and kept talking. “But think about it! The perfect way to murder someone! What if Nancy wanted to kill Y/N and what she’s been doing is poisoning her food slowly over time and it’s finally kicking in! Nancy Wheeler is mur-” Your best friend was screaming at this point before your other best friend slammed her hand over his mouth with a dark blush over her face.

“Matthew Schafer listen to me hard and clear. Shut. Up. Now is not the time for one of your theories, especially one about a certain someone’s sister.” Clare growled that last piece out while tilting her head towards you. The two of them looked over to you as they saw you doodling away on a napkin you had picked up from the lunch line, your chin resting on your hand and your other, dominant hand, held the pencil you were drawing with. 

Your entire body was shaking from your leg, causing the picture you were drawing to be scratchy, which, maybe that’s how you wanted it to be. “Why is she shaking so much?” Matt mumbled against Clare’s hand; their eyes fixed harshly on you as they just watched. Watch their best friend unravel before their eyes, watch her get frustrated at the drawing in pen on a napkin, watch her groan in frustration and let your head fall back on the table. 

Clare let go of Matt’s mouth slowly and reached over the table to grab your arm, moving slowly to not scare you. As her hand grabbed onto you, she realized how much you were letting your leg bounce, she could feel it through your body, making her own arm gently shake. You didn’t respond right away to her hand, leading her to rub her thumb up and down your arm and giving you a gentle squeeze. “Y/N?” 

In the six years of knowing you for Clare, she had been there for your lowest and highest, she had seen you through late night anxiety, posttest highs, first time putting your art up for others to see. She hadn’t been there for everything, but she had been there for enough to help you through the rough times. Clare looked at you, just waiting for you to lift your head up. 

“Y/N, look at me.” Whether listening to her or not, you did lift your head up and met her eyes. “Are you okay?” there was no doubt that her words were filled with earnest worry, you could tell that and that she was worried about you, along with Matt who you also had you fixed in his eyes. 

The quiet moment was shattered as the school bell screamed that there was four minutes for you to get to your next class. You followed the crowd around your friend group in packing up your pencil case and collecting your trash to toss while walking by the trash can. “Yeah, just frustrated at this drawing I can’t figure out.” And with that you walked out of the cafeteria and towards the one place that could calm you down, with Matt and Clare following close behind you until they were side by side with you. 

They dropped your lunchtime behavior and Matt quickly filled the silence with his complaining about his Statistics teacher giving him homework to do over this next weekend after they just turned in a big packet not days ago. Clare filled in how her AP Chemistry teacher totally screwed her over with the test today and how he told the class that there would be no Nuclear Chemistry on the exam and yet two of the math twelve point questions were all nuclear that she couldn’t bullshit her way through and just did random math to get some sort of partial credit. 

And you listened, adding in your thoughts here and there, stating how it was unfair to add homework after just finishing one, how shitty of a teacher it was to go against his word on what was gonna be on the test. The trio of you sat down in the art class you all have together with your respective easels in front of all of you with paints also at the ready on the table next to the canvas. 

Class began, with your teacher talking about your assignment for the day, (what kind of inspiration was something you see every day?) and letting you go free and let your artistry be free. And this was when you felt something from the back of your head that you had been wrestling with all, maybe you could get this off your mind officially and be able to think of anything else other than this random nose. 

It’s honestly stupid to be banging your head over something as simple as a nose, but this was driving you insane. Honestly batshit insane because usually you thought of something and you moved quickly to draw it since your brain was already working on some details that you needed the basic features to draw first. 

And yet today was the day that you could finally say a human nose took the best of you. Matt worked on another Pokémon, last week you laughed to yourself as he got more and more excited with the orange and reds in his Charmander drawing. This week, yellow and blacks seemed to be the color he was reaching for; this will be interesting to watch from behind him. And Clare pulled out a polaroid picture from her backpack and taped it to the upper corner of the canvas, showing you the still shot of the main road running through downtown. 

You also began your own work, grabbing hold of your pencil before reaching for the easel and you let your hand draw instinctively. You started with the structure of the face, a face you couldn’t think of but felt the need to draw a face structure; maybe this face structure would help you through the nose and drawing the rest of the face may be able to get you done with this face.

Faces and portraits weren’t your forte, they weren’t what you went for. You enjoyed drawing abstract pieces, things that spoke to you, because painting people wasn’t what you wanted others to see, you wanted to paint things that meant something to you, that could mean something to others if they saw your artwork. Art for you was emotion, drawing from the human soul, passion, and you felt like you couldn’t do that by painting someone’s face onto a canvas. 

And all this nose was doing for you was driving you insane and getting your angrier by the second. This wasn’t something you felt comfortable just throwing paint at; penciling was stupid in your mind because this puts a lot of stress on the artist to be perfect, to not allow changes to be made midway through the project. So why were you penciling?

With a frustrated groan, you tossed the pencil onto the table next to you and stared at the white board in front of you, the blank one with some pencil scratches through the middle. Looking around the edge of your own canvas, you took a look at Matt and Clare, seeing them both working away at their own respective paintings, the orange and yellow of Charizard and the browns and reds of the town picture Clare was replicating. 

Your eyes went back over to Matt, watching his face scrunch up in focus as he worked on getting the roaring face of the dinosaur looking creature just right, and his nose was all wrinkled as he dipped the brush back into the paint he was using. His nose.

“Matt.” The ginger turned to you, revealing that he had a second paint brush between his teeth, looking at you with a blocked ‘huh?’ “Can you just sit there for a second, I need to draw something really quick.”

His eyes brows perked up as you picked up one of your smaller tipped paint brushes and proceeded in dipping into the black and looked to Matt’s nose for inspiration as to how to begin to shape the nose. “Are you painting me like one of your French girls? Ow! What the hell was that for?” His head changed directions as he turned to glare at Clare who just chucked a paint brush straight at his head. 

“That’s for-” 

“Mr. Schaefer, don’t make me call your father down here for spouting profanity.” The art teacher called from the front of the classroom without looking up from her grading papers. 

Matt muttered to himself as he turned around and rubbed the spot he was hit in the back of the head. “What do you need, Y/N?”

“I just need you to sit there so I can draw your nose.” Without looking at him too much, you quickly drew the shape of his nose, noting the subtle differences between Matt’s and whatever nose you keep thinking about. Things you could change when you moved on to shading and coloring the skin tone around the nose and over the black, a color you didn’t like to use for line work made things too neat. Shading differentiates the shadows from the highlights and the normal skin tone, there was no reason for you to use black to do this.

Matt made some comments about the weird request and started bragging to Clare about how his nose was ‘Y/N painting worthy’. The two of them began bickering about their noses and which ones of them had a better looking one, but you left them to bicker as you pulled pink and yellow together, pulling a little white and red into play as you mixed a skin tonish color together. Or, at least you think it looked kinda like skin tone, it wasn’t exact, but you figured it would do. 

The rest of the period, you worked hard to get this nose right, shading here and there, adding brown to the skin tone shade you make it seamlessly flow together with a speck of white to the tip of the nose. Overall, it was a pretty good-looking nose.

So why did you still feel bugged about this? You finished the painting that you had in your mind, but why didn’t you feel the accomplishment of finishing one of your paintings? There was always a sense of greatness that you feel when completing a project, and it wasn’t here. You felt nowhere near close enough to feeling that. 

The period bell rang, pulling you out of your mind and frustration as you were forced to work on it tomorrow, hopefully you can get whatever your mind is stuck on. Breaking down your easel, you put your paint and everything away before meeting Matt and Clare outside the door. “How’d my nose picture go, Y/N? I may wanna see that.”

The three of you chuckled on your way out the door, happily in your own world as you passed your sister on the way down the hall. Nancy didn’t bother giving you a glance as she smiled at her boyfriend walking over to her. “Hey babe.” She giggled as he reached down and pressed a quick peck to her lips before they walked off to her next class. 

“Hey, beautiful, how was your chem test?”

“Well I would have had time to study more of my nuclear notes had someone not been interrupting me.” She fluttered her eyes at him before bouncing into explaining how she thinks she got at least a 91% based upon how many questions she thinks she got wrong. Steve Harrington chuckled at her angry comments on her teacher and told him that she can’t be anywhere near him when AP study time comes around. 

“Babe, I know every way of sneaking into your room. I’ll always be there for you, for moral support or for a distraction. Besides, you don’t have to start studying until later next week, so relax.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. 

Nancy scoffed and looked up at him through her thick lashes. “And I don’t have time to not stud, Steve, I need to keep up.” His face visibly dropped at the mention of it already being that time of year. “Hey, I promise I’ll see you every day.” He commented on how he would hope so and the two of them made a run for their next classes as the bell was about to ring. 

-----

Through the drive home, from the passenger seat of your sister’s car, you had your sketchbook on your lap with a pencil lazily being pushed and pulled across the paper in no specific way right now. You hated pencil, as seen with the nose painting, but it was still a basic art form that helps you start on something, getting an idea for what to doodle possibly as a full piece or just something to do in an evening. 

Horribly so, after a few pencil strokes, you noticed something come forth in the picture. “Damnit.” You curse under your breath and shut the book before sliding it into your backpack. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Nancy asked as she continued driving the three of you home, with Mike in the backseat doing some math homework he should have done this morning. 

Glancing at her, you knew she wasn’t interested in why you were frustrated yet again, a mutual understanding the two of you had as she would often talk about Steve and her school work on the way home while you just let her rattle on. She was just sick of your groaning next to her, no doubt. “Not that you care but a drawing has been bugging me all day.” She hummed in response, proving your point and how she wasn’t listening. 

“Hey Y/N?” Mike chirped up from the back of the car as he leaned forward to perch his head onto the middle seat between you and Nancy. “Can you draw me a picture of my paladin if I describe him to you?” 

A smile grew on your face. “Sure, thing bud. Can I do it tomorrow?” He nodded with a big grin on his face as he leaned back into his seat as Nancy pulled into the driveway and parked next to your father’s car. 

“You’re the best, Y/N!” Your little brother called out as he pedaled away on his bike, also screaming about how he would be back before dark from...Dustin’s house? You couldn’t hear him at the point of where he was turning out of the driveway. That kid brought a larger smile to your face as you made your way into the house with Nancy close behind you. 

“Y/N? Is that you?” Not even two steps into the house and your mother was calling you for helping in chores. 

Following the voice of your mother, you found her in the kitchen with Holly on her hip and working over the stove at what you can assume to be dinner for tonight. “What do ya need mom?” 

“Take Holly while I finish dinner. Oh, Nancy, how was your test?” Your baby sister was passed on to you while your older sister sat with your mom and talked about her day. 

You looked down at Holly and filled your cheeks with air to make your face appear to be a frog as you walked the two of you out of the kitchen. “Come on, Ms. Holly, should we go paint a picture for mom and daddy?” 

“Yeah!” Holly cheered at you mentioning her being able to play with paint. Your mom may have had a good grip on Nancy and made sure she had her bright future ahead and she kept her sweet baby Holly close, but Holly ran to you every time. You “tricked” Holly into liking you because you had paints and paper she could color on and give her arts to different peoples of the family. 

The two of you make your way up to your room as you asked her about her day and she told you about how in preschool, Danny Cincade was pulling her pigtails during lunch and he wouldn’t stop until one of the teachers saw him do that to her. “Well, next time he does that to you, tell him that it hurts your hair and it hurts your feelings. If he doesn’t listen to you…” You paused before thinking about what you were going to say next as you set her down in the chair at your desk and pulled the paper out for her to begin her project on. “Well I will say that you decide what you should do when he’s pulling your hair, whether that’s pull his hair or call him a mean name like he’s a poop head, then I say you can make that choice, Holly-bell. But make sure you ask him to stop.”

Your little sister gave a surprising amount of thought to this before she nodded. “Can I have paint now? I wanna draw daddy a big and spiky porkipine!” 

You did a “surprised” gasp. “A porcupine? Now why would you want to give dad a porcupine picture?”

“Cause he was extra spikey today with his hair, and he was grumpy today when he drives me to school.” Holly grabbed one of your old paint brushes you no longer used and dipped it heavily into the brown paint that you pulled out for her before splattering it on the paper in front of her. You loved watching her paint, seeing the sparkle in her eyes, her little tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth while her nose scrunched up in total concentration at her little piece of art she wanted to work on. 

It was amazing to see, truly it was, to see someone so enthralled in their own work that they have no other cares in the world besides what is in front of her. Maybe that’s how you looked to the outside world. Because that’s how you feel when you paint, just you, your brush in the paint, the colors, and your imagination; that’s honestly all you needed for yourself to feel what you created. 

You smiled to yourself while you grabbed hold of your own art supplies and set the tripod easel in its usual spot, at this point the three legs having their own divets in the carpet from where it spends its time. Staring at the canvas, you thought to yourself for a few minutes of where you should continue going; on the canvas was a dark red background overall with a much lighter center that was meant to draw you in closer, get a good look at everything. 

In the middle sat a heart, not one that any five-year-old could draw, but an anatomical heart, you had the shape down and blank canvas towards the main junctions of the heart, with various plans of flowers in your head to put on top and within the heart. 

A heart is the garden of the body, where everything is felt, consoled, thought through. The brain is the rudder of the body, but the heart is its center, the guiding force, the heart stops the brain from going into autopilot and gives you something to do and work for. The heart harbors so many emotions that flourish and grow into beautiful flowers, flowers you were working on painting right here. Flowers you wanted others to see and appreciate. But the flowers would have to wait because you needed to work on the soil of the flowers right now and finish shading in the features of the heart and its musculature. 

 “Y/N!” You had barely started mixing paints when you heard your mother call your name. “Holly! It’s time for dinner!” A sigh mixed with a groan from your desk. 

“But I’m almost finished.” Holly whined, her slouched shoulders giving away her sadness and wanton to finish the rest of the painting. “I just need to finish daddy’s spikes.”

Stepping over to her, you looked over her shoulder and felt her smile come back onto your face at the sight in front of you. “You can finish painting, Holly-bell. Mommy and them can wait a few moments.” And she went back to painting, with a quickness behind her paintbrush while you stood over her, waiting for the inevitable second call to be heard. 

She was almost done. “Y/N. Get down here and eat.” And there it was, with your mother doing her normal drawing out the last word to warn you she was not in a playing mood tonight. 

“One second, mom!” You called down the stairs before looking at your little sister again. “Hurry it on up, Holly.” 

“I’m almost there. Just two more spikes.” You followed her paint brush, noting more than two strokes as she worked to finish up. “Done!” 

“Y/N Wheeler, get down here, now!”

You picked Holly up while she gingerly held the painting so that no one smudged it up and set her on your hip. “And that means that mommy is hungry, so we better get going, little miss Holly-bell.” The pair of you exited your bedroom and headed down stairs, where you whisper to Holly to be ready to fight mommy’s angry wrath, leaving her giggling as you set her down at her spot at the table next to your father. 

Dinner was uneventful, it was meatloaf night so the group of you naturally began arguing how ketchup was a necessity for topping off your dinner. Currently it was only you and Mike fighting hard for ketchup while the rest of your family was arguing for either no topping or barbeque sauce, but no one else understood what you meant when you said that it made the meatloaf so much better. 

-----

You found yourself standing in front of your work, only an hour or so after dinner had ended, and Holly just came in to tell you goodnight and that ‘daddy really liked his porcupine. Now that her painting for the day was done, you could relax and do your own work for the day on your work you commissioned yourself to do a little over a week ago. Tonight, you wanted to finally work on getting the flowers painted and going in on details around the actual heart itself, showing the roots of the flowers making their way down the face of the heart. 

And that is what you did for the next hour or so of your night, dancing to your music, mixing paints, and applying layers of the colors onto the canvas, covering what little white was left and finally felt accomplished that everything was covered even if there was at least another week's worth of painting to go, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t continue working at it and making the sweet ending ever closer. 

However, you did need to wait a few more minutes before adding more touches since paint is not an instantaneous drier, thank God you didn’t ever find joy in oil painting, you would have gone mad trying to wait for that to dry enough for you to move on to the next piece of work. So, while waiting, you saw the clock and decided that it was time to switch into your pajamas and get comfy. 

From across the hall, you heard the shower start up and figured that Nancy was in for her shower, since Mike was a morning showerer type of person and your parents had their own bathroom, Nancy was the only person you could think of to be showering right now. Your pants had already been switched out with pajama bottoms and you were tugging your shirt off when you heard something thump behind you. Turning around with the enlarged sleep shirt in your hands as you worked on flipping it right side out when you made eye contact with someone in your room.

“Shit!” The word left your mouth before you could think of anything other than use the shirt to cover yourself up. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Harrington stood in front of you with wide eyes. “Give a guy warning next time you undress, not that I’m complaining, but I am dating your sister and all so...” He gave a little shrug of the shoulder before you huffed and threw the shirt you were holding at him in a lump.

The cloth didn’t do much when it hit his head except giving him full access to seeing you in only a pair of pants and your bra. “Why the hell are you in my room?”

“You’re the one who gave me permission to use your room to sneak into Nancy’s.” Harrington said as matter-of-factly as he could while tossing the shirt back at you, which you gladly took and threw over your head. 

“We need to work on the timing then. You can come in when…” Looking around the room, you saw a stuffed ladybug that had been sitting on the top shelf of your dresser for ages now. “When this bug is in the window, feel free to come in. Nothing before dinner here otherwise you’ll be way too early, and my parents might see you.” You slammed the stuffed bug down before walking back over to your paint corner and staring at the canvas. Now that he was in the room, you didn’t want to deal with him or anything. 

“Thanks, I’ll just head over to Nancy’s room now.” You hummed, not really listening until you saw him out of the corner of your eye, until you heard the shower going.

“Wait!” Leaping forward, you grabbed his wrist and stopped him from opening the door. “She’s in the shower, you can’t go in her room.”

“Showering? I’ll just join her.” At the mention of that, you looked over at him in disgust and shuddered at the thought. “What? Never seen a guy shower before?” When you didn’t answer him right away, Harrington stepped away from your door and came closer to you, a cocky little grin in his face when he came into view. “Have you ever seen...a guy naked before?” 

You tried so hard to cover the blush on your face as you tried working out an excuse. “Of course, I have, I’m not a person who lives under a rock. I’ve seen a guy before.” 

“No, no, no. I didn’t ask that. I asked if you have ever seen a guy naked. As in have you ever slept with a guy?” No response. “Oh ho ho. This is very interesting. You are more a virgin than I thought you were.”

“Shut up.” You growled and shoved him out of your face, moving to grab onto your brush and palette and made a dark line on the piece of pink flesh on the heart. The dark worked as a shadow you were gonna use to emphasize the green that would be used in the next layer, making it look like the roots would be interwoven into the flesh of the heart. 

Harrington chuckled as he walked over to your bed and let himself fall backwards into your bed. You didn’t turn around and worked on pulling more life from the heart using small strokes that made them less noticeable. 

Up close you could see all of the colors and of course you could see the colors, but even with just the base layers down, you could feel pride bubbling inside of you as you concentrated on keeping your hand steady. “Is this yours?” A voice spoke softly behind you, causing you to jump and a streak of green crossed the right ventricle and cutting through a flower. 

A noise of annoyance left your mouth and you let your head fall forward with your brush dropping onto the table next to you. Turning, you saw Harrington hanging over your shoulder with his eyes fixated on what was in front of him. “Yes, Harrington. This is mine.” With a heavy sigh you resigned yourself for the night, not too satisfied with your progress. But keeping a certain guest in your room wasn’t helping you. 

Nancy get out of the shower please.

“That’s amazing.” For the second time that night, Harrington caused you to blush. “I haven’t seen anything like this before.” He reaches his hand out to touch it when you grabbed his wrist and pushed it away. 

“It’s still wet.” Your words weren’t meant to be harsh, but he didn’t seem to notice as he slowly nodded his head while keeping his eyes fixated on the painting. Noticing that he seemed to enjoy your painting, you pulled the brush back out and dipped it back into the pink. “You can watch if you would like.” You mentioned quietly while keeping your eyes on what you were doing and your back turned to Harrington as he sat back down on the bed.

The moment was kind of serene, odd honestly was the best word, odd to have someone watching you, something you checked every few moments to see if you could ease the tension in your shoulders but he still sat there watching. You’ve had Clare and Matt in the room with you while you paint, but neither of them ever went out of their way to watch your every move and twist of the brush. Even if you were in your environment of comfort and what you wanted to be doing, you didn’t know how you felt about this. 

Next door, you finally heard your sister’s door close, signally to you that she was out of the shower, and knowing her, she was already dressed and relaxing on her bed. “You...can climb through to her window now. Or you can go through the hall if you really want to.” Turning slightly, you didn’t look at him other than to see him still watching you before walking over to your backpack and retrieving your sketchbook from it along with some pencils and sat down on your bed, tucking your feet under your body.

Nodding, Steve stood up and thought for a second. “I think I’ll go through the window for now, since Nancy doesn’t know about me coming through here.” You parroted that that was a good idea while you opened your sketchbook and stared at it rather than at Harrington as he climbed his way through the window next to Nancy and left you alone again. 

Sighing in relief, you found peace again and let your pencil glide across the paper. The piece didn’t last if you hoped it would as you quickly realized what was forming. “Shit, not again.” The nose was back. 

Thinking about it, you didn’t really want to go back to our painting and decided just to deal with the damn nose...again. Until you eventually dozed off, you drew this nose over and over again, working this time only with shading and line work as you took different angles and lighting and perfecting this nose if you could say so. 

This nose haunted you until you slipped into your dreams.

-----

Today felt like any other day, started out the same, kept going the same, even lunch was the same, with Matt and Clare arguing and with a new habit that seemed to be forming you bent over your sketchbook while continuing to draw a part of the body. However, you think you out nosed yourself last night, since you had three pages full of this nose. That didn’t stop you from watching as your paper quickly filled with the form of human lips. 

“Oh, does Y/N over here want to practice kissing with these lips?” Matt chuckled to himself when he stood up and looked over the top of your easel. “If you really wanted someone to kiss, you coulda just asked, Y/N.” 

Clare hopped over to your side of the painting, leaving her own for a second to see what exactly Matt was teasing you about. “Matt, as if any girl would want to kiss you.” 

“Cause you keep stealing all the girls.” He winked at her as a rosy blush traveled up her neck before he turned his attention back to you. “Uh, Y/N, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you know that the nose is usually not that close to the mouth, right? Not like right underneath it?” 

Matt did point out the simple feature that you had all the knowledge that you were doing. You don’t know what it was, but you just wanted to put the lips there. You didn’t know why, but it was the same reason that led you to agonizing over a nose and a pair of lips these past couple of days. Just to see what happens. Besides there is no perfect face who’s to say this isn’t how this face looks. 

“That’s not where the mouth goes.”

“Picasso didn’t follow the lines of society so there’s no reason I have to.” You smiled up at him as you worked more pink into the lips without making it look like the lips had lipstick on. “Besides, I can just...see them there. This is my painting not yours.” Matt gives you a quiet ‘whoa’ as he thinks on what you just said while Clare congratulates you on managing to break your best friend’s mind and gives her a small time of quiet to finish her own piece of work before the bell rings in the next couple of minutes. 

Not much silence followed for you when you heard the intercom system activate overhead. “Y/N Wheeler, please report to the front office. Y/N Wheeler to the front office.” Everyone’s head in the room turned to look at you, giving you a look as you slowly stood up, a dark blush running over your face as you quickly as quietly as possible walked out the door and following the hallway to the front office. 

In your three years at this school, never had you been called to the front office, and seeing your mother there made you nervous to your stomach. “Mom?” You quietly called her name as you entered the main office and saw her standing there, waiting for you. Looking at her, you knew this wasn’t a happy calling, something confirmed by both her stern look on her face and seeing a shy looking Holly standing behind her leg. 

“Y/N, so nice to see you. I’m taking you home.” Her smile looked friendly to any other bystander, but that smile had been shown to you plenty of times when you had to explain your grades, or where you were later at night. This smile meant she was here to deal with business, and you were about to be interrogated until wanting to curl up in bed and just die. 

Your mind raced as to why this was happening. Nancy wasn’t here, neither was Mike, so this was only you. Get out. Get out. Run. Get away. You tried figuring out what to do, how to get out of this and the only thing you could think to do was sputter out “Bu-but I need my backpack.” Trying to get away from here, that’s all you could think about. 

“Nancy will get your stuff. Now let’s go. Holly still needs to eat lunch and we need to get home, don’t we Holly?” The youngest Wheeler looked up at your mom and gave a small nod, still not moving out from behind her leg. 

“I...but mom-” You spoke, but she interrupted.

“Y/N Wheeler, now.” This shut you down, her almost growl and the definite glare she sent at you gave you the opportunity to only respond with a quiet yes ma’am as you followed her out the door.

Matt had told you that being pulled from school early was always a bragging right as it meant skipping classes for the rest of the day. This wasn’t exciting and something you were relishing and going to tell your friends about. You feared what your mother’s temper would say. She never hurt you not physically, but she didn’t hold back with her words. 

The car ride back home was absolute hell. Not a word was spoken, even Holly was silent during the ride. You noted how you were riding in your dad’s car, given your family only had two cars and Nancy currently had one at home. Your dad would be home. Maybe he would help you in keeping your mom calm. 

“Um, mom?” You asked, trying to alleviate the tension but she wasn’t having any of it.

“Don’t. Say anything until we get home.” Shrinking into the seat, all you can think of doing was melting away, jumping out of the car. Because you have never seen your mother so quiet, she was so quiet that she was lethal; this happened before with our dad, he had done something when you were younger and your mother quietly called your father upstairs to their room before you heard her speaking. 

Your mother wasn't screaming, she was a woman who cut down her opponents with her words. Her words were sharper than any weapon, any sword, and that’s what scared you because you were at the receiving end of her words.

And make you wait she did. Holly, your mother, and you walked into the house, completely quiet without Mike downstairs with his friends and Nancy upstairs talking with her friends or Harrington on the phone. And silence made you uncomfortable. 

You followed your mom to the kitchen where she rounded the island and planted her hands firmly on the tile countertop. “I got a call from Holly’s school today.” This came out of nowhere, but you couldn’t move or do anything other than stand under your mother’s stare. Holly was sitting at the table with a sandwich in her hand and happily eating her lunch. 

Her nails began to tap rhythmically on the countertop. “Her teacher told me that she pushed a little boy off the playground today. I get to the school and they tell me the same thing, and here I am thinking, my sweet little Holly? Why would she do that? Where would she get an idea like that? So, I ask her this exact question. Do you know what she tells me, Y/N?” 

The pit in your stomach was a boulder now, you understood what was going on. And your mother wasn’t going to be happy with what you had to say. Slowly you nodded your head, giving her a response with what you knew. “Holly, your little sister Holly, told me that you, her older sister, told her to push that boy off the playset.” Her voice had stayed very level, but her eyes grew Angier and fiery with every word this mother dragon blew from her mouth. 

“Mom, I didn’t tell her to push him. She told me he was pulling-” She didn’t let you finish as she slammed her hand down on the counter, causing you to flinch and take a step back. 

“You don’t get to justify what you did. You aren’t the one who has to call this little boy’s mother and tell him why your sister pushed him. You aren’t the one who has to tell all her friends that my high school daughter is rebelling against me so much that she is trying to get her little sister in trouble. You, Y/N, are the one that did this, and I have to deal with the consequences of what you’ve done.” Her words rolled off her tongue and stung you, each and everyone. 

“But mom, I didn’t mean for that. Holly told ne-” 

“Don’t turn this on your sister because you don’t want to get in trouble. I am tired of your behavior recently, Y/N. I am not dealing with this anymore, where is your sketchbook, I’m taking it away from you until I deem it okay for you to get this back.” As she spoke, your heart rate elevated and you began to freak out.

“What? Wait no mom no! It’s a week until the art show! What am I supposed to do for the next week?!” 

You could feel our eyes widening as you gestured around the counter, trying to argue with her. Your mom doesn’t do well with people arguing with her. “You can spend time with your family, Y/N. Not lock yourself in your room all day.”

“Then make Nancy do that too! Don’t single me out, mom!” 

“Don’t bring your sister into this. Just because you are jealous of her doesn’t mean you can-”

“No mom! I’m not jealous of Nancy! You pretend in your mind that we are the same person, I just happen to be the less pretty, less academically amazing, less perfect daughter! That is not my fault that you put these stupid expectations on me that I never asked for! You can’t single me out in this family just because they are the least successful of your children! That is not fair!” 

At this point it was a screaming match between the two of you, words you were holding back were starting to come out of your mouth, but it was like you were drunk and had no filter and no idea when to stop but it was all coming out. Your screaming attracted the attention of your father from his shower upstairs, the raised voices of two women of his household worried the man. 

Coming down the stairs, your dad looked into the kitchen and saw Holly sitting in her grilled cheese with her sandwich half eaten while watching you and your mother. Looking further into the kitchen, he found the source of the shouting and quickly worked on diffusing his wife and daughter from murdering each other. “Whoa! Karen, Y/N, what is going on? You two need to calm down.”

“Stay out of this, Ted. Y/N and I are talking.” Your mom growled the last part of that phrase out without breaking eye contact with you. Ted Wheeler was looking between the two of you, he had obviously seen his wife blow up like this, but he had never seen you feed into your mother’s rage. He didn’t know which one had started and he didn’t know which “side” to take, because either way it would not work out well. 

“Karen.” He took his wife’s hand and gently squeezed it. “Stop.” He stood his ground, shocking his daughter and wife alike. “Y/N go up to your room. Your mother and I will talk about this.” 

“Ted Wheeler.”

“Yes dear?” Your father responded to your mom’s anger and responded with his usual soft and neutral voice. This was your que to leave, to go hide in your room and get away from this horrible place. AS soon as you stepped in, the first thing you thought to do was hide you paint supplies. 

Your mom threatened you with taking your art away, but not if you hide it from her. Grabbing hold of your paints, you grabbed six or seven major colors, one that you can make other colors from these along with a few of our brushes. You couldn’t hide everything because your mom would figure out that not everything is there, but if you grab only a few of everything, you would be fine.

Heart pounding, pulse racing, short breaths, you worked as quietly and quickly as you could without alerting your parents of what you were doing.

Footsteps made their way up the stairs, warning you that someone was about to walk into the room. Panicking, you shoved the bucket of few paint supplies up into a corner of your closet and you sat down at the edge of your bed, settling yourself down before your bedroom door opened and your dad stepped in, causing you to look over at him with a sad look on your face. “How mad is she?” You were afraid to ask.

“Well, you said some pretty choice words to your mother, Y/N. So pretty mad.” Groaning, you hid your face in your hands. “She was threatening just to lock you in your room with nothing in here but your bed...but I was able to calm her down enough to just keep you in your room except for meals.” 

“So, no art supplies?” He nodded at your question, to which you replied with a sigh. “How long?” 

Sitting down next to you, you dad bumped your shoulder with a soft smile on his face. “I told her we can split the idea and make you suffer until Sunday night rolled around.” Sunday was like three days away. That meant those days you didn’t get to work on any of your projects that you had. “Don’t worry, squirt. You can survive this.” The two of you sat together on the bed for a little while longer before he finally stood up and helped you grab your pencils and paints and markers as well as a small stab with taking your work in progress heart away. 

Looking at the room now, you felt emptier than the room, there was nothing in the room and that left you feel nothing inside. You saved some of your paints, but without even just the easel in the corner of your room it’s so empty and sad to look at your room. The walls had very few pictures on them, especially the one next to your window that was next to your sister’s room. Staring at the blank wall made your blood boil, boil so much that you blindly grabbed a paintbrush and stepped up to the wall as a butcher walked towards a new body of meat ready to be sectioned off into eatable pieces. Your brush worked as nimble as any scalpel, working with speed at the wall, your mind wasn’t thinking, your body was moving on its own at this point. 

And there was no stopping it.

-----

It was only Saturday afternoon and you had two small panic attacks just thinking about the art show coming up. Just because opening night was in like two weeks doesn’t mean that you could turn it in the night the show opened, everything was due this Tuesday, completed, dry and everything. Would you be able to do that by then? Your art teacher had reached out to you and asked you to enter a piece, making you now feeling obligated to enter something. And that something happened to be locked in your parent’s room for the weekend. 

Usually when you were antsy or nervous, you would draw or paint, and here you were still. A few colors and pencils but no paper. And lined paper did not agree with you doodling style of drawing erasing and then redrawing, you wore simple paper out too easily. You needed something heavier. And you couldn’t go at the walls again like last night; waking up this morning, you were shocked to see just what you did, quickly pushing your curtains around to hide that part of the wall, leaving your window open to let natural light fill the room you would be spending the next couple of days isolated to. 

A light knock at the door, causing you to perk up to thinking hopefully your dad would come in and tell you that your mother slept well, and she was giving you back all your stuff. Not that you were upset or angry at your brother when he walked in, but when you looked at the dark headed boy who stuck half his body through the door, your hope fell away. “Hey Mikey, what’s up buddy?” You gestured him to come fully into the room with you where he plopped down into your desk chair across from your bed. 

“Well, um, I wanted to know if you...you could still draw my DnD character? I was just figuring that since you don’t have your big piece to work on right now and I just wanted to see if you could do it now because you’re not busy and you said you would do it in the car a few days ago and I just think you could do a really cool job drawing him and it would be great and my friends might also want you to draw their too and that’s all up to you but if you could at least do mine that would be great and you would be an amazing sister.” His words jumbled out of his in one mess, something he does whenever he gets nervous or excited about something.

You let him ramble a bit through what he wanted, his excitement bringing a smile to your face as you saw just how much he wanted this done, even if he stumbled over his request. He had nothing to worry about in the world. Mike sat there after his long request, finally giving your room to speak. “You done talking, Mike?” You quipped, not meaning it in a mean way as you watch him cough for air. “Of course, I’ll do it for you, buddy. Can I just request something from ya?” His head nodded up and down, his eyes sparkling with excitement at your acceptance. “Get me some paper I can draw on.” He was already out the door when you said paper.

Chuckling to yourself, you went over to your closet and grabbed hold of the box of pencils you kept just in case; staring down at the bright colored Crayola that you weren’t favoring to use, but, it was for your brother and you loved Mikey enough to use these. You heard him scrambling back up the stairs before Mike rushed into your room, gasping for air as he held out some paper, he grabbed from the printer downstairs to you. You took the paper from him and laid it on top of one of your schoolbooks.

Pencils out next to you, paper at the ready, a semi sturdy workspace, you were ready. “Alright, Mike, what does this paladin of yours look like?” 

The two of you sat there for a long period of time, which honestly slipped away from you as you did your best to draw a person, since you still haven’t gotten any better at it since your fascination with the nose and lips, but you still did your best as he animatedly told you about how Elias the Esteemed stood, how he was a lawful good paladin who only did what was just even when the other characters in the party would be annoyed by his upright behaviors. 

While you were drawing, you asked him to tell you stories about his friends adventures, and he so happily did; he told you about how they spent almost twelve hours fighting to save a princess and the others thought his character was being stupid for trusting an evil goblin when a fairy offered to help them until it turned out that the fairy was evil and was the one trying to kill the princess to get enteral youth. Just from watching your little brother speak, you could tell that he absolutely adores what he and his friends do every weekend. 

There was something that just brought joy to you when you saw someone radiate passion about something they love. And you saw this in your little brother as he told you story upon story of the renegades his friend group was. 

Passion speaks louder than simple descriptions or words. These stories gave an idea of how the paladin held himself, why he swung left handed and not right, stupid little things than made you draw Mike’s character in such a way that to you, it would make him feel more alive and ready to jump off the page, ready to fight for the sake of any princess in need. 

It was getting near dinner time when you finished, though you had been done for a bit of time, instead keeping this time to yourself. In this family, quality time was few and far between, and being with your brother brought happiness to your...rough weekend. And it was quickly shattered into pieces when you heard the call for dinner. Mike quickly stopped talking and looked towards your door before glancing back at you.

“Let’s get going then, Sir Eliad the Esteemed. Let us go feast after this glorious victory.” You turned the portrait over to him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders as the two of you headed down the stairs to join the rest of your family. 

You kept to yourself for the rest of the evening, but really it was the rest of your family that didn’t come to see you. Your mother and you weren’t really on speaking terms, Holly wasn’t allowed near you after you “told her to push a boy off the playground”, and your father was passed out in front of the TV. Nancy had asked your mom if she could run up to the store and buy some ice cream, leaving the whole upper level of the house to yourself and there was nothing for you to do with it all. 

So here you were again, staring at your ceiling as you twirled one of the pencils you still had out around your finger in complete and utter boredom. How could anyone live like this? You have been left alone with yourself and your thoughts for a full day and you were already ready to kill yourself. Looking around, you found yourself staring at the small stuffed ladybug sitting in your window, something to which you looked at curiously. 

It was the weekend and you hadn’t seen Steve try and climb through your weekend since Thursday evening. Granted it was only a day ago, but you were curious as to why your sister and her boyfriend didn’t take this time to be theirs and spend time together. Hmm. At least he wasn’t walking in while you were changing into your pajamas again. 

Speaking of pajamas, might as well get them on since you obviously weren’t going to be going anywhere tonight that would require proper clothing, so you pulled your pants off from the day and pulled on your pajamas bottoms before tugging your shirt off and over your head. 

“Wheeler, we might wanna consider buying ladder.” A voice spoke up behind you, cause you to scream and drop the shirt you were holding onto the ground before turning around. 

“What the hell, Harrington?!” You shouted at him, thanking the lord that you were alone on this level otherwise your mother would have stormed in here before you could say the boy’s name.

The brunette looked at you with a look on his face that you couldn’t read but you could have sworn you saw a quick blush appear on his cheeks before you remembered that you were in fact putting on your pajamas and he yet again came barging in on you. “Okay, this was your fault. I checked and the ladybug is there, so I thought I could come in.” 

You stumbled over a few words before you gave up ad scoffed at him before putting your shirt over your head. “I thought you had just died because you weren’t here last night, so I assumed I was free of you sneaking into my window. Forgive me for being hopeful.”

“Aw, come on Wheeler, you know you would miss me if I just left you behind.” He smiled at you and sat down next to you on your bed, bouncing you up and down ever so slightly with his weight being added to the bed. 

You muttered to yourself as you pushed your pencils away, “You have no idea.” And there you sat, the two of you in quiet silence, where you stared out the window at the trees next to your house, fireflies were beginning to emerge, lighting up the yard.

“Did you finish that painting?” Harrington asked you, to which you replied with a hum. “Your heart and flower painting that you had over there? Did you finish it?” 

“Oh, um…” You pulled your lips between your teeth, because he had no right to really know about it, but he was asking, but why did you want to tell him? You ignored the questions and just rolled with it. “My mom...more or less grounded me for the weekend and took my stuff away from me, so I’m stuck here without anything to work on.” He gave you a look that you only responded to with a shrug.

He scoffed. “Wow, take a painter away from her painting.” Looking over, he saw your pencils tossed onto your desk. “You any good with pencils?”

“I mean yeah, paint is what I want to work with, but as long as I can put it to paper, I can use it.” When you answered his question, he nodded before he pulled something from his backpack that you didn’t notice he had until now. “What are you doing?” Your brows were quirked as you watched him bring back out a notebook. A sketchbook actually. 

Your face had a look of shock on it, bringing him to smile at you. “Calm down, Wheeler. I can see the boredness in your eyes and I have this book. Mess around with it, I’m sure as hell not using it.” Your words caught in your throat as you stared down at the notebook that was now in your lap. 

“Um...thanks, Harrington.” You stood up and grabbed the pencils you had honestly not really knowing what to do with this newly given gift. “Do you...want me to draw you anything?” You asked.

Harrington looked up at you, a look deep in thought on his face before he turned to you and asked, “I want you to draw me like a cartoon character.” Hearing this, you were surprised at his request, even voicing this confusion yourself. “You know like Fred from Scooby Doo? Draw me something like him. All attractive and suave.” He grinned up at you, his dark eyes twinkling as he waited for your answer to his request. 

“I...don’t really do animation. I’m more of an emotion led artists and this isn’t really-”

He interrupted you. “Well then I guess I’ll be having my notebook back.” He held his hand out to you, but you held the book to your own chest shaking your head. “Thought so, now get drawing, Wheeler.” You were honestly taken aback by him sitting here and demanding things from you. 

Almost stupidly, you sat down in the chair sitting in front of him and grabbed a pencil, the black one, one that you were using in his outline. Animation was more your style, even if it wasn’t what you wanted to be drawing right now, you found that drawing Harrington animatedly was easier than real life but there was still a learning curve for you. 

You drew his face in very simple lines. His jaw came down into a subtle, but he did have a square face overall, deciding to accentuate the shape of his face while adding a slight chin to make sure he didn’t have just a square for his head. His ears were pretty flush to his head, so you didn’t bother and just hid them behind his hair. 

Oh, the hair. You grabbed the brown pencil and moved to try and find a way to translate the Hairs hair onto paper and it wasn’t working that well. There is a reason Harrington was known for his long and fluffy hair, and boy was it hard to find a way to get the curls and the wisps onto the paper without making it seem like stray pencil marks. 

You needed to tell your sister to tame her boyfriend’s eyebrows because they needed help, he was a few hairs away from unibrow. One had a sort of arch with some stray hairs underneath it and the other looked like a caterpillar. So, you decided to fix them on paper, and you gave him some damn good-looking eyebrows if you do say so yourself. Moving on, you stared at his eyes, and you finally noticed that he was staring back at you just as intently as you were, only he didn’t have a reason to be watching you. Maybe it was because he was staying still for you, but his gaze was a little unnerving. So instead of wanting to put focus on the small flecks of individual colors that made of his warm brown eyes, you grabbed the brown pencil again and just quickly drew a brown blob at the center of each eye and called it that. 

His nose was in two sweet and small motions, choosing to ignore drawing the slight crook midway down his nose. It was a simple nose, given that you knew almost every turn by now after drawing it multiple times. 

Your head shot up with your eyes wide at this, the pencil in your hand had stopped as you stared at Harrington’s nose. It was there, the nose. The one you had been drawing all week. There it was. The tweak at the top of the nose, the small button at the tip, the small and light freckles that lined the bridge of his nose. They were all there in front of you and you had no clue what to do with this new information. 

It couldn’t be. Why the hell would you be drawing Harrington’s nose? There was no reason you had ever looked at him for more than five minutes total since the time he and Nancy started dating. 

But there were the lips. The lips too. They were right there. Staring at you with all the swings and curves and pink tone with reds in it that you had been trying to copy since yesterday morning. The two of them were staring right at you. The face they belonged to was sitting in front of you and you didn’t know how to feel about it. 

A hand snaps in front of your face, one of its fingers striking your nose gently. “Wheeler? You still in there?” You shook your head, clearing your brain of the fog that took you over. 

“Yeah, sorry.” Quickly pulling the sketchy book closer to your face, you hid your warm face from where he could see you and quickly drew his lips in, completely ignoring your racing mind as you drew the outline and colored in his clothes on the way down, noting his denim jacket, T-shirt and a pair of jeans. On top of a pair of sneakers that you had never really seen him not wear before. 

From the face you took time to get the feeling of Harrington into the drawing, you quickly rushed through the rest of him, producing a finished product in less than five minutes and handing it over to him. “Here you go. Sorry if it’s not like Fred enough for you, but I’m not really an animator or anything.” 

Harrington looked over the paper you handed him; his face blank as he took in everything from the sheet of paper. The anticipation in your stomach grew every second he just stared at what you produced, wanting to be affirmed in what you had done, the ever challenging part of being like you, was that you didn’t know it but you needed the affirmation of how well you did. And for some reason, especially right now. 

“Wow, Wheeler, you could open one of those street drawing stand things and have people pay you for these.” He gave you a quick smile before tucking the paper into his backpack between some of his school books. Looking at his books, you quickly remembered where you were and what he was doing here. 

“Why aren’t you with Nancy right now?” You questioned and he quickly muttered to himself. 

He fiddled with his zipper before turning back to you, fiddling didn't fit his persona. “I just assumed she was taking a shower again since you didn’t kick me out.” 

You quirked an eyebrow at his response. “If I remember last time, you were half out the door ready to join my sister. I didn’t think you needed my permission to go see your own girlfriend. Much less have sex with her if you want to.” He scoffed at your remark, you bringing a smile to his face. 

“Good to know I have Nancy’s little sister’s permission to sleep with her next door to you.” He slings his backpack back onto his back as he makes this comment. 

“Whoa whoa, I didn’t mean that wait-Harrington I didn’t mean that!” He was already out the window by the time your confused brain caught up to you. “Great, now all I’m gonna hear is them having sex.” You muttered angrily to yourself as you slammed the window closed behind him. 

Because what else would you want to hear besides your sister and her boyfriend screaming in pleasure at each other. 

Looking around the room, you saw the sketchbook sitting on your desk. The sketchbook that Harrington gave you. 

Steve Harrington. “Oh God.” You gasped out as it all fell around you. You fell back against the wall behind you, slipping down until you were seated, your brain finally caught up to you and the panic settled in. “Holy crap, holy crap. What have I done?” 

His nose. That was it. He had your nose that you had been drawing. You found the face. And you didn’t like this at all. 

You have been drawing your sister’s boyfriend's nose obsessively. And you couldn’t explain why. 

Your heart rate increased. 

Breathing became short, curt, and rapid. 

Your vision was getting a little fuzzy around the edges as you tried rapidly blinking. 

Chest was heaving, but no air was getting in.

You were having a fucking panic attack and there was no one here to help you. 

You have to remember how to breathe on your own.

How do you even breathe?

You were alone, and your body couldn’t remember how to breathe.

You were alone and you couldn’t breathe

You couldn’t alone and you were breathe.

Alothe. 

Brone.

Your panic took you over and you fell over onto your carpeted floor, passed out and afraid of what you now know. 

-----

Monday morning finally came, to your mother coming into your room and calling you awake. Last night you finally got all of your supplies back and you were doing everything you could to make up for the lost weekend you had planned to use for painting. You stayed up until 3am, until your body was shutting itself down. You had seen Harrington come through your room and go, not giving him much to talk about this time around. You couldn’t let yourself get distracted with how little time you had left. 

And when that three am mark rolled around, your brain couldn’t tell what was pink from green and you almost painted a giant line through the heart. So, you slept, for three hours your body rested and reset itself. 

And it was rudely interrupted by your mom telling you it was Monday and you had to go to school. As you got dressed, you thought through how long it would take you to finish. All the colors were on the page, no white remained thankfully, but the flowers still needed life, they needed depth so that they were not 2D. 

You could take the picture with you to school. But when would you work on it? And you wanted to keep this all a big reveal. Your teachers sure as hell wouldn’t allow you to work on it instead of their own class. 

You could stay home. But how the hell was that supposed to work? Knowing your mother, you sure couldn’t get her to allow you to stay home for a reason as stupid as a painting. 

But what if she didn’t know you were home?

An idea formed in your mind as you threw your hair up in a ponytail and walked over to your sister’s door before knocking on it. She called you in. “Y/N?” Nancy was confused when you walked in. “What do you want?”

“Nancy, I have a huge favor to ask of you. Can you please leave me here at home? I need to stay back and finish working on my painting and I don’t have enough time tonight. I promise I will do whatever you want, I will do your chores, your homework, I don’t know but please, Nancy, I really need this.” You pleased with her, throwing all your sincerity as you can into your words. 

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, her eyes darting back and forth between yours, looking for something, though you don’t really know what. “You owe me if I do this.” You gasped in relief at her words and surged forward, throwing your arms around your sister’s shoulders. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you so much Nancy. Oh my gosh I owe you so much right now. Thank you.” You held her tight in a hug, ignoring how she didn’t return the hug, but you were just too elated at this moment to care. “Okay, I’ll like get in the car with you and at the stop sign at the end of the road, I’ll just jump out and run home.”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t care.” She wiggles slightly as she wants you to release her, making you let go and rush out of her room. 

You did as you said. Wished your parents goodbye after breakfast, got into the car for a short time before telling Mike to keep quiet and you ran home. 

That was the easy part. What Harrington didn’t tell you was that climbing up the wall of the house wasn’t as easy as it sounded, and you ate dirt twice before you finally made it up to your window. You thanked your past self for leaving the window open, not knowing how you would have managed it to try and get that window open from the outside. 

But you were inside now, and all you had to do for the rest of the day before your sister got back was be quieter than a mouse. And with painting, that wasn’t too hard for you: standing on your feet without moving was something you got used to. But this time, you couldn’t just tune the world out, you had to make sure that your mother didn’t walk in to find you here and not at school. 

So, you went in painting, pulling out your paint palette and container of paints, you began working. Mixing, painting, brushing, applying the paint, you stood for hours, ignoring your stomach as it called for food around lunch time. Moving only one, and that was because you dropped a paint brush and needed to step forward a little bit. The other time was when you heard your mother coming up the stairs. 

Your first urge was to scream when you heard her. It was almost like a horror movie with the murderer coming closer to the victim and the victim had nowhere to go. Where to go, what do you hide in? Would she even come in here? Of course, she would, she’s your mother! Looking around, the best you could think of with the footsteps getting slowly closer was under your bed, because you were basic and asking to be killed. 

You dove and as quietly as you could, you shoved yourself under the bed, not realizing how cramped it would be down there, it wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be but you still were able to get yourself underneath before you watched the door swing open. Her heeled feet walked in, followed closely by the vacuum behind her, which she plugged in and quickly went to work. 

All you could do was sit there, waiting, watching as the vacuum came closer, going away, closer, away. So on and so forth, but you would hear the occasional mutter from your mom about how filthy you kept this room, and how you need to put your paints away and not leave it lying out all day. From where you were lying, you could see her jostling things around above you, but nothing seemed to give away your still being home. 

Looking around the room, you took inventory of what a bug must feel like, seeing everything so big and far away. Your dresser, bookshelves, even your backpack was massive from where you were. Crap. Your eyes widened as your mother grabbed your backpack from the ground. You were supposed to have your backpack at school right now, and it was sitting on your floor for your mother to see. 

Shit shit shit shit shit! You screamed in your head with your hand clamped over your mouth as you waited for your mom to find you, catch you, and never let you see the light of day again. Something bounced off your bed. “Y/N needs to stop leaving her backpack home and start taking it with her.” Those were the last things you heard your mom say before she turned and dragged the vacuum behind her out the door, shutting it behind her before moving down the hall to your brother’s room. 

A heavy sigh left your body as you felt relief rush over you knowing that you were safe from getting caught. And with that, you pulled yourself out from under the bed, squeezing a little bit at the hips, but finding yourself free from dust. You didn’t have much more of a thought to yourself other than getting more of the painting done before you could call it a day and finally finish it all off with a quick signature at the bottom. 

A few more hours of you working passed before you heard your sister come back home. Just in time too. You had the biggest smile on your face as you painted the last brush stroke at the bottom. “Y/N Wheeler.” You were finished. Finally! Mike cried out that he was home and then promptly called how he was heading over to Dustin’s house. Opening your door, you wanted to make your way over to Nancy to thank her again, wanting to know what she wanted in return. 

Opening your door, you saw Nancy had beaten you to it and was standing outside your door. “Nancy! I just wanted to say than-” Your smile and happiness quickly went away when Nancy shoved past you, cutting you off. 

“Why was Steve asking about you?” Her question confused you, which you voiced, asking her what she was talking about. “Steve! My boyfriend! All he could do was ask me about you and why you weren’t at school and how you were enjoying your new notebook and then he went on to show me the cartoon you drew of him. When did you draw him? Why are you hanging around my boyfriend?!”

“Whoa, Nancy, I wasn’t hanging around him. I haven’t done anything. I don’t even talk to Harrington.” 

“Then why does he have this drawing?” And to prove it to you, she pulled the silly drawing out you did a few nights ago, where Harrington asked you to draw him like Fred. 

Looking at the paper, there was honestly nothing you could think of wrong with the situation. “Nancy, for like the past week, he has been using my window to sneak in and out of the house because he was almost caught by mom. I offered to let him use my room to slip through. You were busy or something like two nights ago and he was sitting in here waiting for you to finish and he told me to draw him like Fred from Scooby-Doo.” 

“He’s been sneaking through your room?! You suggested this? Y/N what the hell have you been doing with my boyfriend in my room?” Nancy was screaming at you at this point, alerting your mother that the two of you were home when she called up the stairs for you two to stop yelling. 

You were getting frustrated at this point, “Nancy! No! I haven’t been doing anything with your boyfriend! I’m not even interested in the asshole!”

“Then why did I find you drawing his face in your notebook?!” Once again trying to prove you were in the wrong, she showed you more papers, the ones from your sketchy book that were in fact of Harrington’s face that you found out the other night. 

“Where did you get those? Nancy, that's from my notebook, where did you get that?” Your failed attempt to grab the papers from her led to her getting all in your face. 

“And why were they in there?! Why! Y/N why are you hitting on my boyfriend?! Is nothing sacred for me?! All you do is walk around this house, painting, and drawing and being a goody little two shoes! You are a complete bitch Y/N! I work my ass off for my grades, to be great in school, to have an amazing boyfriend! And you are trying to steal him from me!” She kept getting louder and louder, screaming at you and stomping her feet and making more and more accusations towards you that you didn’t understand. 

“Nancy, I know how it looks but I was just-”

She walked dangerously close to your painting, her flailing arms almost hitting it right off the easel. “You were what, Y/N?” 

“Please be careful, Nancy, the paint is still wet.” Reaching out, you grazed her hand, hoping to calm her down but she ripped it away from you. 

“Oh, is this what you care about? Let me show you what you’ve done to me, Y/N. What happens if I do this?!” Before you could react, her hand flew and shot its way through the canvas, punching a huge hole into the painting you just finished not moments ago. 

“No!” You screamed in horror, staring at the hole she hit through the flowers atop and intertwined amongst the heart. Your own heart broke and your body had no idea what to do besides just scream.

Footfalls stormed up the stairs and Karen Wheeler charged into the room. “Y/N Wheeler, what are you screaming about, that is completely uncalled for!”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked to your mother for help. “Mom, Nancy she...look mom!”

“Mom! Y/N has been flirting with my boyfriend and cheating with him behind my back! And she skipped school today!” Nancy’s face had rage written all over it, nothing compared to the absolute shattered feeling you felt. 

“Mom wait no please. I-” you tried explaining, but your mother had heard enough, and she spun on you. 

“I can’t believe I ever raised a daughter like you, Y/N. I am completely disappointed in you. Steve is your sister’s boyfriend. And I’m talking to your father when he gets home about you missing school. Apologize to your sister right now.” Your mom was angry, you could tell, but you were hoping you could argue with her. “Don’t argue with me, Y/N! I guess locking you in your room isn’t enough for you to learn your lesson anymore. Your father will be hearing about this, young lady, you can be sure of that.” 

She was gone, your mother left you in the room with your sister, going downstairs and angrily muttering to herself. Looking over to your sister, she saw she was still angry on her face, with a sickening smirk on her face. “What...have I ever done to you, Nancy? All I have ever done is try to be your little sister. All I want is for my big sister to guide me, be a role model. I just want you to love me, Nancy.” Tear tracks raced their way down your face as you stared at your sister, if you could even call her that anymore. Not after what she did to what she knew you loved doing and had worked so hard on. 

“Why would I ever love the sister that made my parents split their love up?” Nancy’s voice came out as a growl and followed your mother, slamming your door behind her. 

Your body finally gave out and you fell to your knees before curling up and letting our sobs ring through the room, screaming at one point all the pain out of your chest. Your mother yelled at you again, but you didn’t listen, you kept crying at the pain in your chest, the same pain that showed through the tear in the still wet painting. 

------

“Karen, we should talk to her before we keep punishing her. She is going to hate us if we keep doing this.” Ted Wheeler was trying to talk some sense to his wife while walking up the stairs to his daughter’s room. 

“Ted, I think it’s time we discipline her my way. You have been going too easy on her these last few years and she’s fighting back. I don’t like people fighting against me, Ted.” Karen Wheeler gave her husband a look that told him to be quiet while she did the talking, he was there to be a point of authority and trick you into listening to your mother. 

Nodding, your father grabbed the door handle into your room and pushed the door open. “Y/N, sweetie. We wanted to talk to you.” The husband and wife opened the door and expected to find you sitting on your bed or standing in front of your painting that the two of them have known you have been working on endlessly lately. 

But the room was empty. You were nowhere to be seen. “Y/N?” Karen took a step into the room, checking behind the door to see if you were standing there. “Y/N, I don’t want to deal with your games right now. Get out here young lady.” The woman checks under the bed, in the closet, but you weren’t in either of those places. “Ted, I don’t see-” Turning around, Karen Wheeler saw her husband standing in front of what looked to be the artwork you were working on. She stepped closer, looking around her husband's shoulder and her eyes widened when she saw what was before her.

It was a beautiful painting. The dark background may look black for one second, but when looking deeper at it, there were the light colors of white and grey in the background, creating an open ribcage around what is the centerpiece of the painting: a red heart. The heart had amazing detail, veins and fat tissue where you would suppose it would go. Green things ran along the heart as well, but it wasn’t as easy as it was before to tell that there was a bouquet of flowers emerging from the main openings of the heart because where the flowers once were was now a giant hole ripped through the canvas. 

Karen Wheeler was rarely shocked at being speechless, yet here she was with her hand pressed to her mouth in awe at what she was looking at. It was beautiful but broken. While she stared at this, Ted had gone to the door and called somebody’s name down the hall. “Is this what she has been working on?” Her words came out breathless and airy. “It’s so beautiful.”

Ted nodded as he looked around the room, waiting for who he called before something caught his eye behind the curtain that was being blown around the open window. “Did you call me, dad?” Nancy stepped into the door confused. 

“Nancy, do you know what happened to your sister’s painting?” Karen turned to her eldest daughter, her pride and joy, before her husband could, who had pushed a curtain away to see more of what he was looking at. 

Looking over, Nancy shrugged. “She deserved it. I told you mom, she was che-”

“Nancy, I’m not asking for what she did to you. Did you do this to her painting?” Nancy looked around the room, not wanting to look at her mother, but giving a slight nod. “Nancy Wheeler! You know what painting means to your sister!” 

“But mom, she doesn’t-” 

“No Nancy! You aren’t in the right here. Y/N could have hit on your boyfriend, which I want to verify with your boyfriend, but that does not give you the right to destroy what Y/N has spent weeks working on.” 

“Karen.” Ted called over to his wife. 

“Nancy Wheeler, you are in a big deal of trouble right now and I don’t want to see you. You have severely hurt your sister and I am extremely upset with you.” Nancy looked away from Karen, her face flushed with red as she left the room, not feeling too hot that she had been turned on by her parents. 

“Karen,” Ted called again, to which she finally turned back to him. “Look.”

Written on the wall, in black paint was line after line of your handwriting. “Failure. Stupid. Y/N Wheeler is useless. Not pretty like Nancy. Not smart like Mike. Not loveable like Holly. Matt is friendlier than Y/N. Clare is emotionally stable. Stupid. Failure. Shit. Y/N Wheeler is shit. The world won’t stop. Nobody here. Noone wants me. Unwanted. Unloved. No difference. No change without. Gone. She is gone. Y/N Wheeler isn’t wanted. She isn’t going to want. “

“Oh my god.” Karen gasped again, tears prickling at her eyes as she turned away, not wanting to see anymore as she looked around the room. “Y/N? Sweetheart please!” She looked at the closet again and saw your shoes were gone. Your shoes and one of your jackets were missing. “Ted. Ted! She’s gone! Y/N’s gone! Our little girl is gone, she's gone.” Her words sputtered out of her mouth as she fell into her husband’s arms, her face and cries falling into his shoulders as he led her over to where your phone sat on your desk. 

“Hawkin’s police department.” Flo’s voice asked through the phone, she sounded bored rightly so since nothing happens in this small town. 

“Flo, this is Ted Wheeler.” He held the phone to his other ear so that his wife wasn’t crying near it. “Pass me through to Chief Hopper. Our daughter is missing.”

-----

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N Wheeler!” 

“How many Y/N’s do you know, Lucas?” Mike looked over to his friend; the three of them had been out for the last two, maybe three hours, calling out your name, much to Dustin’s chargin when his voice started cracking and hurt from screaming. 

“Well I’m sorry I just wanted to say something other than your sister’s name.” Lucas called back to the only male child of the Wheeler family. “Mike, we’ve rode back and forth across this damn road so many times, I can count how many pedals it takes to get from one side to the other.” 

Mike ignored his friends' complaints as he kept calling out your name, hoping that as they kept doing this loop that you would call back out to him. Come running out of the woods. Just come home. “Y/N!”

Across town, your parents were looking just as hard as your little brother. Your mother had removed her heels and stockings and skirt for a pair of sleep pants your father had and some sneakers she found in your room that would fit. Never in your wildest dreams could you imagine that your mother would be trekking through the muddy, dirty woods, especially for the likes of you. “Y/N!” Your mother called out, moving the flashlight back and forth as she tried seeing any sign of you in the woods near your house. 

“Karen, sweetheart. We won’t be able to find her out here, it’s nearly midnight. It’s too dark for us to make a difference in the search.” Ted reached forward and gently grabbed his wife’s elbow, hoping he could guide her home. He had been out here with her, calling your name and looking at every possible place you could be hiding. 

Karen looked back at her husband and in the glare of the flashlight off him, he could see her eyes filled with worry, shame, frustration. “Ted, I’m the reason she is out here. And I want to be here when we find her.”

Mr. Wheeler nodded his head, tugging a little harder on her elbow before she let herself be pulled into her husband’s embrace. The two of them stood in the middle of the woods, a mile or so away from your house, holding each other as they worried for their lost daughter. “Come on, dear. I’m sure we can look a little longer. Maybe she’s just a little farther ahead.” She nodded her head at Ted and the two of them continued forward. “Y/N!”

Back at home, Nancy was sitting in the living room with Holly drawing in front of her while she went over flashcards for her AP exam coming up. “Nancy?” At hearing her name, the young girl looked up. “Where’s Y/N? I didn’t get to paint with her today.”

She scoffed. “What is with this family and Y/N? She’s not here, Holly.” The last part, Nancy spoke louder so that the youngest Wheeler would hear her. 

“Where is she? I miss her.” Holly said it so nonchalantly as she kept drawing on her little page. Nancy glowered down at the little girl before she stood up, ordering Holly to stay there and that she would be right back. Walking into the kitchen, she picked up the phone and quickly dialed a number. 

“Hello?” Her boyfriend's voice came through the receiver and she felt like she could smile for the first time since she got home that day. 

“Hey, Stevie. Wanna come over? My parents aren’t home and thought that we could get some alone time in.” She leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, getting a look to see that Holly hadn’t moved an inch. 

Steve took a second to respond. “Sure, babe why are they out of the house. They just had a date night.” 

“Oh, Y/N up and ran off and they’re off looking for her like a manic. She’ll be home soon I’m sure. It’s what she gets.” Nancy rolled her eyes at her own statement. “So, you wanna come over?”

She heard a release of breath on the other end. “God, Nancy. Your sister is missing, and you want me to come over? Please tell me you are calling me to help your family look for her.”

“Steve Harrington. What are you talking about? Steve Harrington you are my boyfriend, not my sister’s boyfriend or best friend.” Nancy growled into the phone ready to go off on the phone to her ear, but he cut her off. 

“No, Nancy. I am not someone who dates a girl who ignores her sister, who hurts her sister on a daily basis by not even looking or caring about her.” His words caught her off guard, truly they did because here it was again, her little sister coming back to claim what is originally Nancy’s. “Nancy unless you tell me this is some sick joke, I’m sorry but we are done.” 

Nancy Wheeler had nothing to say and was even more in shock when she heard the dial tone ringing in her ear. “Steve? Steve? Hello?” Nancy stood at the phone and tried ringing him back up, with no answer. In the living room, Holly hummed to herself as she continued moving her marker back and forth across the paper, so excited for mommy to get home and to give her a new painting of the family. 

“Y/N!” It had been hours since the sun had fully gone down and at least five hours since Hopper got the initial call. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in Hawkins, never has before Will went missing a couple years back. “Y/N Wheeler!” Hopper called again into the night, shining his flashlight around the exterior of the fence of Hawkins lab, trying to see if anything would connect another strange event from the Upside Down to you. 

The lab has been quiet for a while, so it didn’t connect why you would have gone missing. And it sounded like it wasn’t a missing persons case and instead was a kid running away from home. His eyes were barely hanging open at this point and he had used up his last cigarette over an hour ago, so he needed a kick to get him going that he didn’t have.

He didn’t want to, but Chief Hopper knew when to quit and now was the time. Grabbing his radio, he called out to Powell and Callahan on his radio. “Yeah boss?”

“I’m calling it for tonight. We will keep searching for the girl tomorrow when we get some shut eye and the sun is up.” Hopper mumbled into his radio as he did one last sweep of the area around him before he turned back around and headed for his truck. 

“Will do boss.” Something clicked in Hopper’s mind before he signed off for the evening. “You say something else, boss?” 

“Yeah, make sure Ted and Karen get home safe, I don’t need more civilians out getting lost.” The three police officers finished their pleasantries and signed off until the morning when they promised the three of them would be back out at eight am on the dot. This left Hopper to wander the woods alone with his own thoughts and the quiet around him back to his car and head back home to Eleven and some Eggos waffles fresh outta the toaster. 

Hopper gripped his steering wheel with one hand while the other he used to rub his face of the stress this evening has caused. He enjoys his work, he really does. Helping the community and everything, but the max he wants to worry about is thieves from the local pharmacy because the local teenagers wanted to get high on Nyquil. No missing kids who run away from home. No monsters. No kids who have been experimented on their entire lives. 

First Joyce’s kid, now one of the Wheeler’s daughters too. Whatever happened to kids listening to their parents and staying home? “I swear, if Eleven even thinks about disappearing like that on me, I’ll turn this state topside.” With a slam of the door, Hopper looked up to his little cabin, something he found when he was a young stupid kid and later in life would convert into a home for himself away from the life of Hawkins. Now it was his permanent home for him and his new daughter. 

“El, I’m home.” Hopper ducked his head into the door frame, looking over to the coat rack that he placed his hat upon the coat rack before making his way into the kitchen right next to the door. “I hope you didn’t eat all of the waffles while I was gone.” He quipped with a smile on his face; he didn’t hear her respond, which he was glad about since she should be in bed, like he wanted to be. But Jim needed something in his belly. 

He hummed to himself a little tune he heard on the radio on his way over, not knowing what the song was, but it was here in his head and it didn’t seem to appear to be leaving any time soon. This ditty stuck with him as Jim Hopper pressed a little extra butter into the crevices of the waffle and smothering it in syrup, the best way to eat waffles honestly. Grabbing his plate, Hopper decided in his head which channel he was going to watch tonight before he turned in only to get up at the asscrack of dawn tomorrow. 

Stepping into his living room, Hopper jumped in surprise when he saw Eleven staring at him with a straight face. “Jesus, El, you should have said something while I was in the kitchen, I thought you were asleep by now.” Eleven kept her gaze upon her father figure as he rounded the couch and saw another thing he was not expecting. 

El was sitting on the couch in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, but she wasn’t alone. Hopper nearly dropped his waffles when he saw you, passed out on his couch, your head laying on El’s lap as she ran her fingers through your hair, which was sopping wet, as were your clothes. “Eleven. How did she get here?” Jim fell into his armchair, his plate of waffles laying on his lap and his jaw dropped down nearly as far. 

“She knocked.” El stated curtly, her eyes looking to Hopper a second more before she turned her head to look back down at you. “She’s Mike’s sister.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the Wheeler’s daughters. I’ve been looking for her all night. When did she get here?” Hopper moved his body forward to see more of her surrogate daughter and you.

“At 9-4-9. Why is she so sad, Hopper?” She completely disregarded his own questions and comments and began pegging her own at him. “I can see her thoughts. She’s so sad. Why? She has Mike. I can’t have Mike but I’m not sad.” 

Hopper sighed after hearing this, he never poked into other people’s affairs, but he had a feeling he might have to talk to your family when he got you home. “I...I don’t know El.” The young teen nodded her head, her hand still running over your hair.

The group of three sat there in quiet silence, El stroking your hair as you slept on while Hopper sat deep in thought of what he should do next. He was thinking, but he could not stopwatch his daughter and how she acted around you. He saw that you were still wet, though it did seem like you were slowly drying off, hopefully you wouldn’t get sick because of this. 

Placing the now empty plate down, Hopper stood up with his mind made on what he was going to do. “Come on, El. It’s past your bedtime, bud.” 

“But I want to stay-” With a raise of his hand, Hopper stopped the young girl from speaking. 

“I’ll stay with her, El. Don’t worry.” The chief walked over and gave her shoulder a gentle pat on the shoulder as he helped guide her out from under your head. “Be careful with her, I’m sure she’s had a rough night.”

Going into her room Hopper gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, to which she gave the customary comment “scratchy” with a smile on her face as she commented on his beard against her skin. With a chuckle, Hopper shut the door behind him with El flicking the lights off herself, leaving him in the main room of the cabin. The man signed deeply as he ran his hands over his face roughly, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes and wake himself up just a bit. 

He took a rather ungracefully seat next to your head, hoping his jostling of the couch would wake you up, but you only shifted at his added weight. Jim Hopper sighed again and moved his hand over to your shoulder, gently shaking it. “Come on, kid. I need you to wake up for me.” His already gruff voice as gruffer and deeper from exhaustion as well as how quiet he was being. “Kid, you gotta get up.”

You finally started to move, letting out a groan at being woken up, your body shivering under his warm hand. The groan quickly moved into a gasp as you shot upright with your eyes wide like an animal Hopper has seen hunting before. You quickly pulled away from his hand, almost like he had burned you and pressed yourself against the armrest of the couch as your eyes greedily took in the room you were in.

“Hey, hey kid, calm down. It’s me Hopper.” He watched as your eyes came to focus on him, your eyes rapidly moving, and your chest was heaving. “Calm down, kid. You’re safe. It’s Chief Hopper. You’re safe.” His hands were in front of him, a simple signal of peace between the two of you as you slowed your breathing down and started blinking, your eyes rapidly seeming to come back into focus. 

“Ch-chief Hopper?” Your voice came out a little hoarse, surprising you at the weakness behind your own voice. “Wh-what...where am I?” 

“You’re in my cabin, kid. Bout twenty miles from any form of civilization.” Hopper kept his place on the couch, letting you settle yourself into a cross legged position that seemed more comfortable, though not fully at ease. “Wanna tell me how you ended up over here? And why you’re sopping wet?”

His comment caused you to look down at yourself, just now noticing that you were in fact wet. “I...I don’t really remember. I just was running through the woods out by my house, and I guess I just...wait, I think I fell into a creek or something before I found this place. Yeah, I fell into some creek, and it was freezing water, so I...don’t remember much after that…” You looked down as you tried remembering just how you got here.

“Well kid, you somehow made it from one end of Hawkins to the other. You’re almost outside of the city limits.”

“What? Wait what time is it?” Your eyes widened again, and you quickly jumped off the couch, making a move towards the door. 

“Hold up, kid.” Hopper grabbed your forearm as you moved past him, stopping you and reversing your path to lead you back down to sitting next to him, this time placing you closer to him. “You know you caused a lot of trouble around town.” Your shoulders sank when he mentioned this, followed by a quiet apology that he waved away. “I don’t care, you’re fine, I know where you are. Now, wanna explain this to me?” Feeling around his pockets, Hopper produced a polaroid picture that he handed over to you. 

You took the picture from him and felt yourself deflate once you saw your wall. “I forgot I did that.” Your words were quiet mutters as you looked at the words you painted nights ago when you were in a rage. “I...I didn’t-” 

“Don’t tell me it didn’t mean anything. The words are there.” Hopper had his gaze fixed on you, his body leaning towards you as he waited for a response. “Y/N,” You looked back up at him from hiding from the photo. “Are there problems at home?”

He barely suggested this, and you shook your head. “No, there’s nothing like that, Chief Hopper, sir. It’s just...it’s…” Hopper watched as you worked on your words; whether it was appropriate or not, he placed his hand on your knee in solidarity. “There’s nothing wrong. I’m just...it’s hard sometimes, cause I’m just stuck in the middle. Mikey’s the only boy in the family and he’s always at his friends house. Holly is adorable and she’s the baby and she’s cute. And Nancy…” You paused again, focusing your gaze onto your finger tracing the fabric on the couch. “Things aren’t good with her and me. I got into high school and she just...because very mean. Bitchy honestly. My parents care about me...but they don’t side with me and it isn't good sometimes. Or a lot of the times. But things are like bad at home, times just get rough sometimes.”

“I think you just described a bad household, kid.” 

“No, no, no. It’s not bad. I didn’t mean…” Your voice cracked and you moved to quickly wipe your eyes. “I didn’t…” You tried again, but you couldn’t get yourself to talk. 

Hopper sighed at watching you. He didn’t want to have this conversation, it was an uncomfortable feeling already, but if he wanted to sleep again, he needed to know. “Don’t tell me if you meant it or not. Can you tell me why you wrote all of this? I’m just here to help you, Y/N.” 

You finally looked up at him, for the first time really since you woke up, feeling your eyes starting to sting. “Damnit.” You whined into your hands as you hid your face from Hopper just as quickly as you looked up at him. Trying, you tried so hard to stop yourself from crying, because this wasn’t something you did. Y/N Wheeler didn’t break down and cry. You didn’t do that kinda thing. 

Hopper watched, he was never this good when his wife got emotional, he was barely there for his own little girl. With El, she was even stranger of a case and had no clue what to do with you. You were a practically random sixteen/seventeen-year-old sitting on his couch, crying, and he was lost. He went against his own instincts and did something that made him uncomfortable but would hopefully help you. 

“Come here kid.” As gently as possible, Hopper wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you to cry on his own shoulder, much to his uncomfort. “Talk when you want to. I’m here all night.” As much as he didn’t want to be awake for the evening, he had a feeling he may have needed to say this. 

And you took his suggestion quickly. “I don’t always feel like that, I just-I just-I just...it gets hard when my mom wants me to be like Nancy and I can’t because I’m not smart enough, or pretty enough, or perfect enough. And I was angry and tired and...I do hate home. I hate it so much. But I have nowhere to go. I can’t just leave.”

You had no one to listen to you, not before this, but Hopper did. Hopper listened to you until you slowly cried yourself to sleep. Chief heard your voice quiet down as you kept talking until you went completely silent and your breathing evened out to where you were sleeping. He glanced over to the clock and groaned at how late it was, or early. It was way too close to when he needs to be awake for his liking.

“Guess I should sleep myself.” Muttering to himself, Hopper leaned his head against the back of his couch and worked on getting himself to sleep, feeling you shift closer to his shoulder just before he fell asleep for the night. 

-----

El let her leg jump against yours in the front seat of Hopper truck. Early this morning, you woke up to Hopper talking to someone through the phone, it sounded like he was talking to his police workers, telling them something about staying in the office and not being able to show up till later in the morning. After the phone call, he corralled you and El into his work truck after giving you a change of her clothes that looked like they should fit. 

Plus, it gave her an excuse to see your little brother, who apparently has a little girlfriend that you didn’t know about. She was smiling in her seat next to you, still not having said too much to you other than she was excited to see Mike. 

She was sandwiched between you and Hopper, allowing you to stare out the window as the scenery around you changed, watching as the scenery changed from heavily wooded forest to dirt roads to suburbs. All the while, you wondered what would happen when you got home. Because there obviously wasn’t anywhere else you would be going besides back home. How will you walk in? Will you go up to your room? Will your mom care? Chief Hopper said they were out searching for you, but you had a pit growing in your stomach where you thought how this could be a lie. 

This question was going to be answered much faster than you anticipated as you saw your house and driveway come into view in the front window of the car. El’s jumpiness intensified at the sight of the house while you tried sinking further into your chair. “Alright, you two, let’s get to the door before this rain picks up again. I don’t wanna go into work soaked.” He warned as he got out of the car with El following past him and ran for the front door. 

But you didn’t move a muscle. 

You watched as Hopper went up to the door that El was already knocking on and it opened before the Chief even got up there. Your mother had opened the door and you inhaled sharply when you saw her with her hair pulled back into a mess that you wouldn’t even call a bun anymore and it looked like she was in a pair of your father’s pants and a grungy t-shirt. 

Her eyes looked over Chief Hopper and El, who had pushed past her to where you assumed would be hugging Mike, before back to the Chief who pointed at the truck, causing her to look in your direction. The moment you two made eye contact, she began running to you, across the grass with no shoes on her feet. Rain was still coming down in a constant drizzle, but that didn’t slow your mom down.

Seeing her pursuit towards you, you pushed the door open and fell out into the rain yourself before moving towards your house and mom. You two met and her nearly tackled you to the ground as she wrapped you in one of the tightest hugs you ever received. Her face pressed into your shoulder and she held you so tightly to her chest, and you returned this by slipping your arms under your mother’s and held onto her waist. “Mom.” You whimpered into her chest, sealing your eyes shut as you fought back tears you never thought you would have shed. 

The rain ran down your head and under your clothes, but you didn’t want to think about anything but your mom’s hug right now. “Y/N, oh my…” You heard your dad’s voice before you felt him hug you from behind, taking both you and your mom up in an embrace you hadn’t felt in a long time. Opening your eyes, you saw the front of your house, the door opens to your house with Chief Hopper standing on the porch still, his arms crossed over his chest with a neutral look on his face. In the doorway, you saw someone standing at the threshold of the house: Nancy. She looked at you, no emotion to her face, just watching. You wanted to feel uncomfortable under that gaze, but you shut your eyes and came back to enjoy the safe and warm embrace of your parents around you. 

It was eventually the rain that pushed you three inside, and where your strings of apologies began. On your couch, with your dad sitting next to you and your mom kneeling in front, you started apologizing for running away, apologizing for making your parents and family and other people worried, apologizing for seeing your sister’s boyfriend. “Y/N,” You were interrupted by your mom. “Don’t apologize for something you didn’t do. You shouldn’t have been sneaking Steve into the house at all, but you were helping him see your sister.” She ran her thumb against your cheek, affection you weren’t used to yet or at all.

Your gaze went over to Chief Hopper, who was leaning against the junction between your living room and kitchen. He gave you a small smile and nod, almost having to tell you that it was okay for your mother to be treating you like this. ‘If you ever feel uncomfortable at home, or if you ever need anything kid, drop by the office. My door will be open if you need it’. He told you this morning while he offered your waffles for breakfast before hitting the road, the both of you remembering your admittance early this morning to him.

“Okay.” A quiet whisper came from your lips as you looked back at your mom and gave her a small smile. You just hoped in the back of your head that things would somehow go back to what you knew as normal.

-----

You concluded that you had no clue what normal was. 

Tuesday your mom and dad kept you home from school with your father running out to work for a few hours before coming back. She never let you out of her sight throughout the day, calling your name every time you left the room for more than five minutes. And every time she called your name, you knew that it was your fault, you were the reason she was skittish about you leaving the house. 

Eventually you were able to convince her that you were just going upstairs to sleep for a little bit, promising her that you wouldn’t leave or slip out the window...again. Stepping into the room, you sighed at the feeling of being able to breathe again. Sliding down against the door, you never realized how...overwhelming having attention on you was. But your room was your sanctuary and you looked around, your eyes stopping when you saw the wall next to your window, it was blank. The words you wrote had been painted over like they never were even there. 

You gulped and forced yourself to look away from the negative space and felt the wind leave your body at the sight of an empty easel stand. “M-Mom?” She came up the stairs a few seconds after you called her. “Where’s my painting?” 

At your question, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Sweetie, your dad took care of it.” Her news scared you, but what else had you expected when the canvas was destroyed, you could try and paste it together, but then it wouldn’t look the same. “He told me he was going out to get you another canvas sweetie, so you can paint it again when he gets back.” Nodding your head, you sighed before smiling up at her.

“Thanks mom. I’m tired, so I think I’m gonna take a nap or something.” She returned your smile before kissing your forehead and shutting the door behind you. Once you were alone, you took one final look at the empty corner before you turned to your bed and tucked yourself in for now.

Wednesday passed by with Clare and Matt tackling you as you stepped out of the car, both of them screaming at you for being missing for two days without telling them and making them worried when they heard about you actually going missing. And all you could do was apologize for making them worry. Every time anyone reminds you about how worried they were, you feel another wave of guilt in your decision. 

At least your teachers didn’t bring it up, leaving you to figure out what you missed from the past two days on your own and your school day went on as normal, with a happy break during art class until you remembered your canvas. Seeing the face that you had started, you stared at it for a second, thinking, waiting, waiting on what is a good question, but your small burst of waiting ended when you picked up a paint brush and dipped the tip into black and began the outline of a face. 

You didn’t give a fuck right now. You wanted to paint, and this face is what you were going to paint. That art period was one of the fastest ones you remember attending but still one of your most productive ones with you being able to get the shape of the face done and drew the base color of the hair down in the shape you would work with tomorrow. 

And when Thursday art class came, you were already painting before the bell rang, not waiting for teacher’s permission to get started. Colors blended seamlessly, every strand of hair stood out in a cohesive way, the skin tone was becoming less white and more colored with a light blush on the cheek to give life. The lips and nose were already done, and this left you with the eyes. 

You realized you hadn’t seen Harrington since...was it Saturday? Not that you cared, you didn’t need Nancy breathing down your neck again for supposedly cheating behind her back. But you wanted to keep this painting going, wanted to finish something that Nancy couldn’t destroy. Something you wish you could turn into the art show for your school. 

You pushed away the thought of the art show you worked so hard to put a piece in, but that’s all your teacher talked about was the show today in Indianapolis. She advertised it on Wednesday and Thursday in class and told everyone to go if they were interested in seeing different schools and their projects they had worked on. You had been planning on going all year since you heard about this opportunity back in August. And now, your plans are completely up-ended for having your own art presented there.

Instead of focusing on the now missed opportunity of the painting, you looked to what was before you and pulled your paintbrush to begin the eyes. Harrington’s warm and welcoming eyes. 

Time slowly ticked by until you had the body of the eye colored out and everything except for the eye color itself. The pupils were completely, and the iris was outlined, but you left the coloring for last. You knew the color, but not the depth. Like his hair. His hair was brown, but there were small shines of gold hidden throughout, and as his hair got to his tips, they muted down to almost an auburn color. Nothing was just a single color; depth came from marking out the darker exterior iris and getting lighter as it gets closer to the pupil before darkening again. 

This was something you stopped yourself from doing; you could stare at Harrington’s skin or hair all day and he wouldn’t notice. Trying to see his eyes, that was harder than you called for. So, you couldn’t know the report layers of his eyes, not without doing it in the next couple of days when he jumped through your window. 

“What time is it?” You muttered very quietly to yourself as you turned in your seat to look at the clock hanging in the back of the church. With only ten minutes left in class, you were about to turn around when someone caught your eye. And you didn’t stop your staring gaze at Harrington sitting in the back row of class. 

How long he had been in this class, you had no clue, but you couldn’t take your eyes of the teenager in the back of your class who had a paintbrush pinched between his fingers and working on the canvas he had in front of him. He must have felt your stare because he looked up at you and met your gaze.

You didn’t turn away yet, allowing the two of you to dumpling watch each other. From here you couldn’t see the colors you had been needing, but you could see the small smile he sent your way and a wave. You returned the gesture and turned back towards your own drawing, a warm blush rising to your cheeks as you dm cursed yourself for not noticing that he was in your class and painting obviously his face in front of him. 

In the next ten minutes, you cut yourself off early and worked on cleaning up the paint brushes and paint palettes. You didn’t get much quiet cleaning done when you found someone standing next to you in the adjoining sink. “You've been missing the past couple of days, Wheeler.” 

Harrington was washing his own equipment next to you. “Yeah...I wasn’t feeling well these past few days.” Not everyone in school knew you needed to know what happened between you and your family. 

He hummed at your response not responding for a time until he was finished washing the brushes. “What are you doing tonight, Wheeler?” 

You looked at him in confusion in his direction. “Why?”

“I was...there’s a new movie out and I was curious about if you wanted to come watch it with me.” His question caused you to scoff as the bell rang around you, forcing you to put your brushes away while answering over your shoulder.

“You should be asking my sister, not me. Besides, I’m busy in Indianapolis.” Yes. You were still going to the show, your mom and dad told you it would be a good way for you to show them what you enjoyed doing, even if nothing was there for you to show. You tried arguing this morning, but neither of them would change their minds. 

Matt and Clare had you sandwiches between the two as they asked about your painting since you should be almost done, but you still weren’t focused on that. “How long has Harrington been in our art class?” 

“I would say...he’s been there the whole time, hasn't he, Clare?” Matt asked over your head.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. He’s always been tucked away in the back. Very quiet for Harrington.” Clare commented herself in his “odd” and quiet behavior. You nodded in sort of understanding, but you threw a look over your shoulder again, still curious as to why Harrington was asking you about seeing a movie. 

-----

“Mom, we really don’t need to do this. We can just go home and have a movie night or something.” This had been your comment the entire ride from Hawkins to the capital in your state. But they hadn’t listened to you and kept driving.

And with you now standing in front of the building that was advertising the show, you tried even harder to not have to go inside and they pushed ever more for you to go in. “Come on, even if you don't have anything to actually present, we want to see what gets you excited to paint.” Your mom spoke rather whimsically as she wrapped her hand under your dad’s arm and he escorted her into the building, you were trailing behind them. As much as you didn’t want to go inside, your mother always found a way of getting you places you didn’t want to be. 

Stepping into the door, you were welcomed to the warm environment of overhead lighting of candelabras, a cinnamony smell, and wooden floors that made the place feel homey and welcoming. A place you would gladly spend your Saturdays wandering between the lone pillars that held small statues, paintings on walls, different mediums of art you have never dabbled in but could appreciate.

“Come on, Y/N. Give us the tour of the place, what is everything?” Your dad looked to you with a smile. With a small huff, you looked around the room, to the other families of students whose art was on display, their art, and not your own, before you smiled back and started walking around with them. 

They asked questions about what everything they saw, what it meant, how did it look like that, why did they do this kind of medium instead of that. It was fun for you to see them so interested in what you enjoyed. Some of the questions they asked were out of your realm, like why they used more black than red in this painting, why were the flowers sculpted this way. “That’s just what the person wanted to do. Everybody puts their own spin on what they do.” 

The three of you were standing in front of a painting of what looked to be the Chicago skyline, with multi colors showing the sunset and stars beginning to appear in the sky. Really pretty painting, very simple but it caught the moment the sun disappeared behind the city. 

You enjoyed standing in front of the painting for several minutes, analyzing it, acknowledging the simplicity of the painting and its colors while also admiring this person’s work with blending paints to make three colors appear to be a rainbow. You had never been to Chicago yourself, but this painting brought you there. To your left you watched your parents move down to another display, but you kept yourself happy enjoying others work. 

“Beautiful.” Someone spoke next to you, the only other person who was standing in front of the painting with you; you looked over at the person and scoffed at seeing him. 

“You following me now, Harrington?” As much as you wanted to move away from him, you didn’t want his presence interrupting your enjoyment of a small thing you loved. “How’d you even find me?”

“I’m not following you; I just happen to enjoy looking at art. Or do I come off as too much of a douchebag for this kinda stuff?” Looking back over to Harrington, all you did was look at him. Watch him. He never answered how he found you and you really didn’t want to have him around you more than sneaking in and out of your room to get to Nancy.

“Still doesn’t explain how you got to this one.” You mumble to yourself as you found the painting now not as appealing as before and turned to follow after your parents, seeing a big group of people gathering around a small stand. 

“Wheeler, hey I wanted to talk to you about something.” Harrington was by your side again and walking over with you. His tall height allowed him to see over most of the people in front of the exhibit; once he saw what was on the other side of a sea of people, his eyes widened before a small smirk perked at his lips. “Wow.” He muttered before turning back to you. 

“Whatever you want Harrington, no. And...stop talking to me. Please.” Your heart was starting to pick up pace as you moved around the crowd, still away from him and a little closer to where your parents were at the center of this grouping.

He followed; it was getting annoying. “Come on, Y/N. I just wanted to talk to you. I mis-” You spun around, your hair and dress you were wearing flaring out around you as you turned back to look at him. 

“Don’t say that, Harrington. Me talking to you is the reason I am in this whole mess. So, stay away from me.” Something ran through you, you couldn’t tell if it was fury or anger, but a heavy emotion coursed through your veins as you stared at him. Your hands were fisted by your side and you hoped your glare would tell him to back off. “I don’t need Nancy hating me already more than she does. Just leave me alone.” Everything around you hurt, and nothing made sense. The art exhibits around you no longer were appealing; you were confused, and you didn’t know why. 

“Y/N, that’s what I need to say, if you would let me talk.” Harrington stepped towards you with his hand extended out to grab hold of your wrist and bring your hand forward. “Nancy and I are-”

“I know, you and Nancy are dating, that’s why I can’t talk to you.” As you spoke you tried pulling your hand away, but Harrington had a stronger hold than your weak pull could break. And after feeling his hand almost holding yours, you almost broke and let yourself enjoy this small moment. 

When you made the mistake of not pulling away harder, Harrington took a step closer to you, your feet were almost touching and he was so close you could smell his deodorant, or cologne, or whatever he used. Whatever it was, it smelt better than your little brother most days. “Y/N, if you would let me talk, I can tell you that Nancy and I are-”

“Why do you keep saying my name? You’ve always called me Wheeler and I’ve called you Harrington.” You took a step closer, even if it was small, and pressed your finger against his chest pokingly. “I call you Harrington because if I call you Steve, that makes me want to date you more. I want to be selfish and be the one that dates you. But I can’t because you are my sister’s boyfriend and she may hate me, but I respect her enough to not try and get with you. So please, just leave me alone.” You were practically begging him at this point, and you stepped away from him, moving to turn back to find your parents.

Forgetting that he was still holding on your hand, you groaned as he tugged you back around. Your beginning argument was cut short when you felt him press a kiss to your forehead. He left his lips against your rapidly heating up skin for a few seconds longer before he pulled away with a smile on his face. “Nancy and I aren’t dating anymore. I called it off after she…” He looked around for a second before he coughed and spoke again. “Let’s just say after I saw some true colors shining through.” 

You stared at him confused, watching him, waiting to see if there was anything you could tell you that he was lying to you, that this was all a ploy for him and Nancy to see that you are trying to steal him from her. “How...what?”

Before he could answer, you heard your name being called. “Y/N sweetheart.” You turned your head towards where you heard your mom’s voice before you looked back at Harrington. 

“I…I gotta go.” Taking a tentative step backwards, you kept your eyes on him as you slowly pulled your hand away from his. Once your hand was free from his grasp, you slowly turned away, letting the smile finally grow on your face. 

“Wheeler?” 

“Yes? Steve?” You tested out saying his name as you spun around quickly and looked at him. The feeling left you breathless and lightheaded. 

“When are you free this weekend? I wanted to see if you could draw me another picture.” His smile hadn’t left his face and neither had yours. 

Honestly you were feeling bashful at the attention and you couldn’t look at him without your heart skipping a little and the feeling that your smile wanted to get even bigger, so you looked at your feet as you answered. “I’m free this Saturday if you...wanna pick me up?”

Although you already knew the answer, you were excited to actually hear him say it; looking back up, he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll come to your window to get you.” Your name was called again, breaking the small moment and you gave him a small wave before you turned around. 

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that you were here today. 

The crowd around that one piece had dissipated with your parents still at the front of it, both blocking it from our view as you mom looked at you with a smile. “Y/N. Can you tell me why this person painted these flowers with a…” Her words faded away as you came around her and saw what everyone had been staring at.

There it was. But how? Staring at it, you knew, you knew it was yours.

The dark red background, the faded white outlines of the ribcage, the heart, the beautiful red and pink muscles and veins running across the structure. It was all there. Even the big rip in the center was there. But it wasn’t as noticeable with the gorgeous bouquet of roses sticking through the hole, making the original painting of flowers look 3D now. Your jaw dropped at the sight of it being here, and just as gorgeous as you imagined it when you began working on it. 

“How did this get here?” Stepping past your parents, you went up to the stand it was sitting on and read the plaque next to it. Your name was there! “I thought you threw it out?” 

You felt your dad’s hand on your shoulder. “Now why would I throw something so beautiful and emotional away? You worked so hard on it that I wanted to add my own spin to it.” He did this.

“You...you did this, dad?” He gave you a nod, and you felt your mom’s hand on your opposite shoulder, you between the two of them as you three looked at your art piece. The piece you had been planning and working on for months now and was here, in the biggest student art gallery in Indiana. After Nancy, you never thought you could have gotten to see this. 

Tears quickly filled your eyes and started running down your face, but you didn’t move to wipe them away and instead moved to wrap your father in a tight hug. “Thank you.” You whisper to him, staring at what was before you as your mother enveloped you on your otherwise. “Thank you so much.” 

The moment to others just seemed to be a family enjoying this piece of work, a sweet moment. And it was, but to you, you have never felt so loved before. This wasn’t going to fix everything that ever happened to you in the past with your parents and your family, but this was a good start to changing thin. You didn’t need to forgive them for everything from before, but you knew that one day, just one day all the tears in your heart could be mended and your heart be as full as the painting before you. 

[arcaneranger]

Final Thoughts - Netflix Exclusives 2018

Oh my god you guys, I’m finally done. I’m free from the prison of 2018, just in time to actually finish my premieres for spring of 2019. But first, let’s talk!

2018 was the year that Netflix really went all-in on producing its own anime and picking up some big names, so we saw Devilman Crybaby made specifically for the service and high-profile shows like Dragon Pilot and Hi-Score Girl basically hijacked by the streaming service and delayed for months in the U.S. so that the biggest name in the game could release everything in bingeable packages. Unfortunately, bringing in an auteur like Masaaki Yuasa for Crybaby and throwing all the damn money at him worked so well that, long before any of these shows would even premiere, they decided to seemingly take any anime pitch under the sun, and wound up financing disasters like Hero Mask and B: The Beginning. Really, these shows kind of run the full gamut from garbage to god-tier, with an unfortunate tipping of the scale in the wrong direction. I haven’t gotten to see Ingress yet at the time of publication though, so we’ll have to see whether 2019 will start in a good direction.

ANYWAY.

DROPPED

WORST OF NETFLIX: Back Street Girls -GOKUDOLS-

I still don’t get how anyone thought this was worth promoting. The entire concept is offensive, and yet it was directed by a master and veteran of the medium (who is also a woman), leading me to just throw my hands in the air and resign myself to never having a satisfactory answer for why Netflix would pick this up to begin with. Dropped after 1 episode.

Hero Mask

One of the most incompetently written first episodes I’ve ever seen gave me absolutely no hope that Hero Mask was going to actualize into anything watchable or even average-looking. It was boring and unintelligible. Dropped after 1 episode.

Fate/EXTRA: Last Encore

What the fuck was Akiyuki Shinbo even doing on Fate? Did he do this at the expense of season 3 of March comes in like a lion or something? Probably not, but geez... This seems much more like someone attempting to copy his style than the genuine article, but nope, there’s his director credit. In the end, I suppose that Fate/EXTRA, despite being a very interesting game, was not ever going to be adapted well - the protagonist is almost literally a blank slate for a self-insert of the player, and their servant is also not set in stone - but I kind of would have rather had nothing than this. Dropped after 2 episodes.

SWORDGAI The Animation

Oh hey, yet another “the Animation”, it definitely doesn’t sound pretentious yet. I don’t have much to say on SWORDGAI, or at least not any more than anyone else - it’s stupid, very earnestly stupid, and doesn’t seem aware enough of that fact to be entertaining for more than a hate watch - and my hate plate is full already. Dropped after 1 episode.

Last Hope

I remember almost nothing about Last Hope other than that it was both pretentious and nonsensical, which kind of illustrates why Yoshiyuki Tomino is wise enough to stay out of anything that isn’t his beautiful Gundam baby, and it’s a shame that Kawamori (father of Super Dimensional Fortress Macross) doesn’t stick with what he knows, which is mech design. (No, seriously, he’s got a ton of credits on MAL and they’re almost all for that.) Dropped after 1 episode.

BAKI

Oh, BAKI, it’s okay, you’re a remnant from a different time. That time was right around when Mars of Destruction seemed like a good idea. It’s not that bad so I shouldn’t really mention them in the same sentence, but the hyper-violent imagery of this show is on the level of the Berserk manga. It’s unfortunate that I had to leave it after one episode because Netflix picked up a sequel that relies heavily on your pre-existing investment (just like with the Dragons TV show, for the record). Dropped after 1 episode.

A.I.C.O. Incarnation

I stuck with this one longer than any other that I didn’t drop, but in hindsight I shouldn’t have wasted my time. It’s one of the worst-looking Bones productions I’ve ever seen and the plot is a dumb ripoff of a much better science fiction series. Dropped after six episodes.

B: The Beginning

Probably the biggest waste of money on this list, B has such lavish animation that you can almost forget that you have absolutely no clue what’s happening or what the context of the story even is. It tries really hard to be both Psycho-Pass and Death Note at the same time to the point of cutting between them multiple times per scene, and it just ends up a badly jumbled mess, albeit one with really pretty colors. Dropped after 3 episodes.

Kakegurui

I still don’t have much to say here because the topic has been so thoroughly covered by The Anime Pope, so I’ll resummarize here - this is a show about gambling where the stakes seem utterly meaningless, even though it tries to impress us by showering money on the characters.

Children of the Whales

It’s so pretty, but it’s so boring. Children of the Whales succeeds in looking beautiful, but fails as a story that wants to be grim and apocalyptic but comes across as a soft-hearted small-village story that gets surprisingly violent four episodes in. This should have been the tone from the beginning, and the entire thing needed a good kick in the pants. Dropped after five episodes.

FINISHED

Sirius the Jaeger (6/10)

One that I waited a long time for after seeing the PV at Anime Central last year, and wound up pretty disappointed by in general. It looks nice (...at first), given that P.A. Works at least knows how to make a show visually appealing on a consistent basis, but the plot jumps so far into cliched stupidity by the end that, even though it had a few twists I wasn’t expecting, they couldn’t save it from being something I won’t recommend to anyone with as much anime experience as myself.

Lost Song (7/10)

(Author’s note: Yeah, apparently nobody on all of Tumblr has made a GIF of this one...)

Lost Song was a pleasant surprise that I wasn’t expecting to be invested enough to finish. One of the best of LIDENFILMS’ output, it manages to weave together a decent fantasy Symphogear AU fanfic, with interesting third-act twists peppering the last few episodes that made it memorable despite looking pretty generic. There’s a sequel due this year, too!

Hi Score Girl (7/10)

A very visually distinctive show with a neat concept that didn’t dive far enough into the heavy subjects it brings up, Hi Score Girl sits in a place where I like the presentation of it a lot more than I like the story. Don’t get me wrong, the romance is certainly cute, and I won’t begrudge a love triangle if it’s meant to be the primary conflict of a show, but the fact that it spent most of its last episode setting up for later robbed it of the chance to give us a satisfying place to leave off until the next part of this adaptation. Luckily, it got a second season, hopefully to finish the adaptation later this year.

Forest of Piano (7/10)

A good first try by a fledgling studio, but not one that lives up to what it really wants to be due to some very bad habits. I still distinctly remember the constant character shilling, and it feels like the story could have happened a little faster if not for the breaks every few minutes to heap praise upon the protagonist. Also, the mo-cap piano playing still looks weird. I’ll probably watch the sequel though, to see if it gets concluded well.

Dragon Pilot: Hisone to Masotan (8/10)

I literally just did my write-up for this one, so I don’t have much new to say here, but I’m pleased that Dragon Pilot turned out as well as it did despite not being what I quite expected from it.

Aggretsuko (8/10)

A fantastic and rather unorthodox look at what it’s actually like to be an adult in the Japanese workforce, Aggretsuko was an early darling of the year, and the only things that could have made it better were a more interesting visual presentation and a less squirrelly ending. Shame that the Christmas Special was...not good.

Devilman Crybaby (9/10)

It was so, so good...right up until the end. Yeah, that’s the only thing holding this back from a perfect score - I really, really hate the ending, and it needed to be changed. I know that, for most people, the best show of the year was either this one, or the most conspicuous work that hasn’t yet appeared on this list, though, so…

BEST NETFLIX SHOW OF THE YEAR: Violet Evergarden (10/10)

Oh God, what beautiful cry-porn. I hope that Kyoto Animation was paid well for their best show in years, and I’m kind of shocked that the two shows that made me sob the most this year both came out in the same season (thanks, A Place Further Than the Universe). I won’t spoil more than I did in my original review, but Netflix should be pushing this to literally everyone who would be even casually interested in watching it.

And that’s it! Last but not least, the last list won’t be a roundup of the whole year (since, you know, I’ve already done that in big chunks), but a list of the Class of 2018 Superlatives. Look forward to it!

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1974

Under the cut.

Steve Miller Band – “The Joker” -- January 12, 1974

It always throws me when I remember how old this song is. Two years older than me, and yet I associate it with my own mid-20s partying. Okay, my "partying" was pretty mild. One of the things my friends and I often did was go to a dueling piano (really keyboard) bar, and they always played this song. I can taste the rum and Coke now. We had tipsy discussions about what "pompatus" meant. A guy tried to pick one of my friends up with "really love your peaches." Anyway, I love this song, but it's also so embedded into my life that I can't judge it fairly.

Al Wilson – “Show And Tell” -- January 19, 1974

1970s Philly R&B is great music. This is a pretty typical example of the genre; lots of strings, lots of horns, an adult with a voice he uses like an instrument to impart strong emotions. It's a love song, and the lyrics aren't anything spectacular, but they do the job. Very good.

Ringo Starr – “You’re Sixteen” -- January 26, 1974

GAH. Next!

Barbra Streisand – “The Way We Were” -- February 2, 1974

I was tempted to write, "GAH. Next!" here too, but I'm determined to save that kind of thing for songs that have elements to them that I don't want to discuss because of moral issues. That's not this. The problem is: I hate Barbra Streisand. Or I should say I hate her singing; though from what I've seen of her personality, I don't like that either. Every song she sings, she sounds like she's singing to the glory of the greatness of the only person who matters to her in the world: Barbra Streisand. I once read an article that called her singing "masturbatory," but that's not strong enough. It's full-on self-worship. I hate it.

The Love Unlimited Orchestra – “Love’s Theme” -- February 9, 1974

This is Barry White's orchestra, but sadly it's an instrumental, without his glorious voice. It reminds me so much of the Love Boat theme that now I'm wanting to watch it. Absolute kitsch, but as kitsch goes, there's worse.

Terry Jacks – “Seasons In The Sun” -- March 2, 1974

The singer is dying and saying goodbye to everyone. That kind of sentiment may be made to work in pop, I suppose, but I've never heard it done. It belongs in opera. This is schmaltz.

Cher – “Dark Lady” -- March 23, 1974

As one of only a couple dark-haired dark-eyed girls in my quite blonde high school graduating class, people used to call me "exotic." Apparently my high cheekbones had something to do with it too. I was asked where my family was from pretty regularly. I wasn't offended --  more bemused. The answer is "Europe," though I guess the dark hair and eyes are probably by way of France. It's rather tough to say, considering my mother's side of the family has been here since the 16th century (indentured servants), and were not the rich types who stuck to their own ethnicity. Anyway, this is to say that I feel some kinship with Cher, and how drawn she was to songs like "Dark Lady." Though in this case, the "dark lady" is someone Cher's character murders for cheating with her boyfriend. She kills the boyfriend too.

This song is dated ("gypsy music") Las Vegas cheese, and yet I like it. It's wildly melodramatic and fun.

John Denver – “Sunshine On My Shoulders” -- March 30, 1974

Bleeeeeh. I like big melodramatic songs. This is the opposite. Now, I do like small, sweet songs often too. But I just can't with this one. It's too slow, too simple, and feels aggressively, shallowly cheery.

Blue Swede – “Hooked On A Feeling” -- April 6, 1974

I learned from the Todd in the Shadows video about this song that its stupid "ooga chaka" thing was inspired by 1960's "Running Bear." Now I hate it even more! The original of this song is a nice, simple love song. Blue Swede made it shouty and dumb.

Elton John – “Bennie And The Jets” -- April 13, 1974

It's Elton John. Therefore I don't like it. I feel like it's too slow maybe? I feel like most of Elton John's songs are too slow maybe. I don't know. I'm bored.

MFSB & The Three Degrees’ “TSOP (The Sound Of Philadelphia)” -- April 20, 1974

An instrumental disco track. It is one I find danceable, so there's that. Not bad.

Grand Funk – “The Loco-Motion” -- May 4, 1974

A rock cover of The Loco-Motion. Sure, why not. Though this version is not very good. It feels like they slowed it down, and they definitely made it extremely loud. I don't really see a reason for this song to exist.

Ray Stevens – “The Streak” -- May 18, 1974

Streaking was a fad in 1974. This is a comedy song about it. I had never heard it before this, and I hope never to again. It's deeply dumb.

Paul McCartney & Wings – “Band On The Run” -- June 8, 1974

The wee-oo-wee-oo-wee-oo thing at the beginning of the song sounds neat, but then it goes on too long. That's my feeling about this entire song: It goes on too long. It does change up substantially multiple times throughout, but it's no Bohemian Rhapsody. Bohemian Rhapsody is, imo, perfect. The pacing of "Band on the Run," otoh, is a mess. The second section needs to be a lot longer and the final section needs to be a lot shorter. Paul McCartney needed an editor for this.

Bo Donaldson And The Heywoods – “Billy, Don’t Be A Hero” -- June 15, 1974

A young woman tells her boyfriend to not "be a hero" when he goes off to war (probably the Civil War.) Because she wants him to come home alive. As anyone who knows this kind of song can predict, he decides to be a hero and dies. Cliche and weirdly bouncy for the subject matter. Still, at least songs were acknowledging that dying in war was not a great thing. Unlike the putrescent "Ballad of the Green Berets."

Gordon Lightfoot – “Sundown” -- June 29, 1974

The singer is jealously obsessed with a woman. He knows this isn't a good thing, but he doesn't seem able to -- or be trying to -- move past it. This is about something real; Gordon Lightfoot was obsessively, violently jealous over Cathy Smith, the woman who was later convicted for injecting John Belushi with the heroin that killed him. The lyrics are mean, but the music doesn't go hard at all. Except, compared to the rest of the stuff I've looked at for 1974 so far, the music does sound a lot harder -- it's minor key and there's a distinct bassline. It still feels like a mismatch.

The Hues Corporation – “Rock The Boat” -- July 6, 1974

A disco song I can dance to some. Not entirely. It's a song asking you not to "rock the boat" of your perfect love with the singer. It's incredibly schmaltzy -- schmaltzy disco. Ugh.

George McCrae – “Rock Your Baby” -- July 13, 1974

The singer is telling you, "woman," to take him in your arms and rock him. I.e. fuck him. I have perfect pitch. George McCrae is no Ella Fitzgerald. When he goes to the high note, he does not hit it right, and it's like nails on a chalkboard. I can't listen to this song all the way through.

John Denver – “Annie’s Song” -- July 27, 1974

Ugh, 1974. This is a simplistic love song to John Denver's wife. Not just simple, which is fine, but simplistic, which is not. They divorced years later, and Denver became violent during it. (Denver's the one who brought that to light and he obviously felt terrible about it.) The Stereogum guy was shocked by this. I'm not. For one, celebrity is horrible for people. For another, I can't think of any of Denver's songs that have depth or complexity. Trying to live at the surface is also horrible for people. I do like a lot of simple love songs, but John Denver's songs have always made me go "ick," even when I was a child. I feel like there's nothing in them.

Roberta Flack – “Feel Like Makin’ Love” -- August 10, 1974

The music to this song, with the calm but interesting percussion and romantic guitar, combined with Roberta Flack's whispery vocals, is lovely. It gives me asmr feels and makes me want to lie down and drift off to sleep. So, uh. Not exactly what I consider a sexy song. I do like listening to it, as it's nice and calming, but I don't think that was the intent.

Paper Lace – “The Night Chicago Died” -- August 17, 1974

And I will definitely need some relaxation after this garbage. Okay so, this travesty was by Brits who: 1) Thought there was an East Side of Chicago. That's Lake Michigan. 2) Thought it would be cute to write a song in which Al Capone tried to literally take over Chicago by killing all the cops (he bribed cops, he didn't kill them, and he was a criminal, not an insurrectionary.) 3) Sing "glory be" because they obviously think that's a super American thing to do. "In the land of the dollar bill." WHAT? This song makes me want to punt Paper Lace into the East Side of Chicago.

Paul Anka – “(You’re) Having My Baby” -- August 24, 1974

Notoriously one of the worst pop songs ever. The singer thinks "you" (that makes it worse) are having his baby solely and only because you love him. Monumental narcissism, just completely heinous, plus it's musical glop.

Eric Clapton – “I Shot The Sheriff” -- September 14, 1974

This is not Bob Marley's version. Bob Marley's version is so much better, and it's the one I've heard a lot, so when I turned this one on I was confused for a second.

Barry White – “Can’t Get Enough Of Your Love, Babe” -- September 21, 1974

Oh thank god. Barry White is one of my favorite singers, and this is one of my favorite songs. This is a sexy love song by a great artist.

Andy Kim – “Rock Me Gently” -- September 28, 1974

Andy Kim's voice sounds incredibly mid-70s. What's with men asking their lovers to rock them this year? The chorus is pretty good, and has a real beat. He's asking his lover to be gentle, and "I have never been loved like this before." That's nice. It's cheese, but it's fine.

Olivia Newton-John – “I Honestly Love You” -- October 5, 1974

A lot of the time when someone says they "honestly" something without prompting, they're lying. So this song sounds weird to me. "I love you/ I honestly love you" -- um, you sure about that? Though the singer has no reason to pretend she loves the person she's singing to, and every reason not to, since they're both with someone else. She just wants to tell you she loves you and leave it at that. Yeah, that's likely. Olivia Newton-John is a good singer, and she's especially good at acting a song. I feel she should have been on Broadway. In any case, while this is a slow soft song in an era with way too many of those, it's one of the better ones. It's not overly slow or particularly goopy.

Billy Preston – “Nothing From Nothing” -- October 19, 1974

If there's such a thing as vaudeville rock, this is it. He doesn't want to be your hero or your highness, so it sounds like he wants an equal relationship. He also says "I'm a soldier in the war on poverty," which makes it sounds like he's saying you have to have money if you want to get with him, but maybe not. He sings "you gotta bring a little something, girl, if you want to be with me," which may or may not be monetary. It's bouncy and all, but Billy Preston's done better.

Dionne Warwick & The Spinners – “Then Came You” -- October 26, 1974

A song about finally finding love. Plenty of good orchestration, a good beat, and of course Dionne Warwick's voice. I like it.

Stevie Wonder – “You Haven’t Done Nothin'” -- November 2, 1974

The "you" in this song is Richard Nixon. Stevie Wonder is one of the most love everyone, let's all come together artists in existence. But here, he was angry. "We would not care to wake up to the nightmare/ That's becoming real life/ But when misled who knows a person's mind/ Can turn as cold as ice." The Republican Party is still Nixon's party -- they love him almost as much as they do Reagan. This song is funky and good and the only reason I don't feel it more is that it's not angry enough.

Bachman-Turner Overdrive – “You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet” -- November 9, 1974

They were goofing around in the studio, and lead singer Randy Bachman wanted to make fun of his brother's stutter. When this song became a hit, Randy was mortified. But even with nasty, juvenile intentions behind it, this song is good. It also sounds happy and not mean at all. It's a rather silly song about first experiencing sex, and it's fun.

John Lennon – “Whatever Gets You Thru The Night” -- November 16, 1974

John Lennon's voice was always kinda nasal, but it's really nasal on this song. Anyway, this song may as well be called "you do you." It's a song that in theory I should not find boring, but in practice I do. I have finally found out why: Elton John helped him with it. It sounds very Elton John-ish. Which means I don't really have anything else to say.

Billy Swan – “I Can Help” -- November 23, 1974

Some old-fashioned rockability is a nice change. The singer sees that the woman needs some help, so "let me help." "I got two strong arms/ Let me help." I immediately think of a romance between a farmhand and a widow woman. "It would sure do me good to do you good." That's a pretty concise description of love. Billy Swain's voice is kinda thin; Elvis did a cover of this, and it's a lot better. Billy Swain's version is sweet and all, but Elvis' is irresistible.

Carl Douglas – “Kung Fu Fighting” -- December 7, 1974

This isn't a song about actual kung fu; it's about kung fu movies. It's a fanboy telling you all about the cool movie he just saw, though not telling you a thing about the plot. Just the "expert timing" and stuff. Trying to analyze "Kung Fu Fighting" feels really silly. It's a rare enjoyable novelty song by an actual musician.

Harry Chapin – “Cat’s In The Cradle” -- December 21, 1974

A cover of this song by Ugly Kid Joe became a hit in 1992. And it was massively overplayed, so I hate this song. This father/son stuff bores me anyway, speaking of overplayed.

Helen Reddy – “Angie Baby” -- December 28, 1974

This song is deeply strange, which is a mark in its favor. It's a story song about a girl who has no friends and had to be taken out of school because she's "a little touched." She lives in a world of make-believe, listening to the radio all the time. A neighbor boy comes along to rape her. But as soon as he walks into her room... "Toward the radio he's bound/ Never to be found." He becomes her "secret lover," trapped in the radio. "It's so nice to be insane/ No one asks you to explain." Is Angie really "insane," or is she a sorceress whose rock n' roll powers everyone looks away from? Both? I'm not sure what I think of this song, but it is interesting, and that's always good.

BEST OF 1974 -- "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe" by Barry White WORST OF 1974 -- "(You're) Having My Baby" by Paul Anka

[vaguelygeiszlerian]

1 to 50

ok i just saw this existed, i live on tumblr mobile where i ignore the activity tab and scroll endlessly, bear w me

Animated character that was your gay awakening? uhhhhhhh,,,....,,,.. if i remembered anything abt my childhood i would tell u, im gonna say rukia from bleach because i want gorgeous short people to step on me

Grilled cheese or PB&J? peanut butter Always... tho if it was a fancy grilled cheese (there is a special preparation).... i would be torn

What show/YouTube video(s) do you put on in the background when you when you don’t have anything to watch but you want something on? it really depends! i bounce around, i watch a lot of baumgartner restorations, i watch a LOT of nyx fears video essays on horror movies i would never watch, i watch longplays of, like, nier automata bc im still delighted by cryaotic?

Your go-to bar order, if you drink? i dont really get to order a lot of drinks at bars, itll depend, if im with friends ill order as many things off the cocktail menu as my money allows, if im with my parents ill order long island iced teas or whiskey and lemonade

What’s your favorite pair of shoes that you own? i literally own like 3 pairs of shoes, one of which being the only pair i can actually safely wear haha.... but my favorite pair is the black red and gold converse that dont fit anymore but still remind me of high school

Top three cuisines? mexican, italian, whomever the fuck invented kasoundi

What was your first word as a child (that wasn’t a variation of “Mom” or “Dad”)? yeah as said above i have no clue about anything about my childhood so idk i think mum said once that my first proper word was just ‘no’ which sounds abt right

What’s a job that you’ve had that people might be surprised to find out you’ve had? idk if my last job counts? i mean i used to do all round garden labor stuff until my pain got worse and i literally couldnt anymore so i got relegated to desk work

Look up. What’s directly across from you? oh a container of pesto i didnt like the flavour of and just... forgot to throw out.... i will do that tomorrow

Do you own any signed books/memorabilia in general? i have a rwby poster signed by ray and jack? its p cool

Preferred way to spend a rainy day? preferred right now? wrapped in a metric fuckton of blankets w my partner

What do you get on your bagels? What WOULD you get if you had access to anything you wanted? i..... dont like bagels

Brunch or midnight snacks? i live a weirdly scheduled life, midnight snacks and brunch are interchangeable to me now, so both

Favorite mug you own i..... dont really have one? all of my actual mugs that are mine have my deadname on them haha

What coffee drink would you describe yourself as? overbrewed black coffee that someone left to go cold before dumping six packs of sugar in

Pick a song lyric to describe your current mood (and drop the name and artist!) ‘ And I don't want your pity I just want somebody near me ‘ bc we all love a bit of mitski when we are feeling the self isolation creeping in

Fruity or herbal teas? fruity teas only! or rather i drink fruit tisanes! but if you mean actual tea then herbal, i only drink peppermint tea

What’s that one TV show that you’re a little bit embarrassed to watch but you still like nonetheless? fruits basket! everyone watch the reboot

That book you were forced to read for class but actually ended up enjoying? all the books i read for class sucked but medea wasnt so bad

Do you match your socks? only when theyre very fun patterned socks, and even then sometimes i will match them to the wrong pair but the same pattern, aka my double watermelon combo (i have a pair of green socks w watermelons and a pair of black socks w watermelons so)

Have you ever been horseback riding? no and i never will because i am fucking terrified of horses

What was your “phase” when you were younger? (i.e., Mythology Nerd, Horse Girl, Space Geek, etc) uh.... uh i mean im not sure if it counts as a phase but i was stupid into vampires (to the point of me and my friends constructing the intricate theory that our teacher was a vampire and we had to kill her by the time we graduated (she was not and we did not and i hate all of those people now) i was just the weird conspiracy kid i guess, we used to spend every lunch staring across the oval at a house we were SURE an alien lived in (it was just a plastic bag being rustled by a fan)

Have you ever been to jail? bkdnbrb god no

What’s your opinion on Lazy Susan’s (the spinning tray in the middle of tables)? im a lazy susan

Puzzles? i cant solve a rubiks cube but give me a 2000 piece jigsaw and ill sit there for 6 hours trying to solve it

You can only have one juice for the rest of your life, what is it? oh this is tough..... orange juice, the fancy kind but with no bits in it, i used to like the bits but these days i just want a clean juice experience

What section do you immediately head for when you walk into a bookstore? ,,,,,,the ya fiction section, i never buy anything from there but i like to see if series i read as a teenager ever got new instalments after i stopped liking them

What’s one thing you’re trying to learn/relearn in your downtime right now? how to sleep like a normal person

Who’s your go-to musical artist when you’re feeling upbeat? uh, it depends! lizzo or my playlist of musicals! (which is literally just starkid/tcb stuff)

Where could someone find you in a museum? i could literally be anywhere, probably in front of some old piece though, just staring for an hour bc im struck by the majesty of it (and my legs probably locked up so i couldnt move anyway)

What’s that one outfit in your closet you never get the chance to wear but want to? so i have a nice white button up and some really nice jeans i just got, and my suspenders, and my cool blue heels that i know i cant wear bc my legs cant handle walking in heels anymore, but it would look cool am i right

Rainbows, stars, or sunset colored clouds? i look up at my roof which is almost entirely covered in glow in the dark stars and then stare into the camera (i wish every day that my roof was like the roof of the healthy harold van, i still have fucking dreams of that beautiful ceiling)

If you could own any non-traditional pet (dogs, cats, fish, rodents, etc), what would it be? non traditional? id want a lizard that could curl round my shoulders like a leathery scarf

Do you have more art on your walls or more photographs? i dont have any photos on my wall so art by default

You have to get one meme tattooed on your body, what meme is it and where does it go? i just want the pensive emoji tattooed in the small of my back so if i wear a crop top everyone has to suffer with me

Pick a superhero sidekick to hang out with fuck superheroes they suck, can i hang out with jason todd red hood style

Lakes, rivers, or oceans? oceans, i want to go to the beach so fucking bad

Favorite mid-2000s song i dont really have a Big Favorite but like..... i constantly thank god for esteban

How do you dress when you’re home alone? ive been in the same sweatpants and old paint shirt i got from my painting and decorating course for three days

Where do you sit in the living room (we all have a preferred spot, and you know it)? armchair closest to the kitchen, perfect to make a quick escape if dad comes in

Knives or swords? knives, i dont have the upper body strength for swords

A song you didn’t think you’d enjoy but ended up loving? oh uh run away with me by crj, *bwoooooooo buhnuhnuuuuuu buhnuhnuuuuuhhh buhnuhnuuuuhhhhh*

Pick an old-school Disney Channel Original Movie HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL BUT SPECIFICALLY ONLY CERTAIN PARTS FROM EACH OF THEM BC COLLECTIVELY THEY SUCK BUT PARTS OF THEM ARE PERFECT

Are you a “Quote that relates to the photos” caption-er, an “explanation of where I took the photos” caption-er, or a no caption kinda person when you post pictures online? no caption i dont want people to really acknowledge that i post things

Name a classic Vine https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=anQds9PQ7CA

What’s the freezer food that you stock up on when you go to the grocery store? hash browns hash browns hash browns ONLY

How do you top your ice cream? god its been so long since ive been able to eat ice cream.... with the reeses peanut butter ice cream shell topping

Do you like Jello? jelly is the pinnacle of our society and i wish i were eating it right now

What’s something that you don’t have a picture of that you wish you did? i wish i had a picture of myself and my partner so i could set it as my phone lock screen (that or i wish i had a picture of me and a friend i really dearly miss bc i have pics of her in my phone but not of us together and i want some but i cant bring myself to say so)

How are you at climbing trees? theres a tree in my front yard i used to be able to hang off but nowadays i think id hurt myself just trying to lift my nasty meat sack off the ground trying

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Moth Work Intro + False Idol | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth! 

Today I thought I’d do a writing update on a project I’ve mentioned a lot in my vlogs but haven’t mentioned as of yet on here! This is a personal ‘passion project’ that I’ve been picking away at since January and have recently taken on as my transition project from Rewired to my next book.

So yee! MOTH WORK (or ‘boys on a boat’ for those who keep up with the vlogs lols) has been my current project for the last few weeks since finishing REWIRED. I didn’t really mean to expand it as much as I have as it simply started off as a spinoff story of my boys Lonan and Harrison which I write every few months when I’m having a breakdown and need something to cheer me up. :-)

I’ve mentioned a few of these stories in the past (like Fishbowl and Mandarin), though this story is a bit different, as I’ve expanded it quite a lot more than I intended to! If you aren’t super caught up with Rewired, I’d definitely scroll through a few of my last updates so this one will make more sense! 

What’s it about? 

Moth Work is a FOSTERED spinoff story following Lonan and Harrison (dumb+dumber) at the peak of their relationship. I *was saying* that the plot went loosely as follows: after finding a photograph of a woman in Lonan’s father’s dark room, they set out to find her, HOWEVER, because I never stick to plans, I have yet to follow through with this main plot thread, lol. Vaguely, I’d just say the most important part of this story is their relationship at its most fragile because who is plot I don’t know her. 

Moth Work follows the events after REWIRED, and is a bit of a bridge between it and the next book. This makes it kind of hard to explain because a) it’s in a different POV, and b) context, but hopefully that makes sense! In essence: Lonan + Harrison’s relationship is big sad and Harrison tries to make it less big sad and it gets even more big sad. 

I’ll share a very quick profile of both of the boys so there’s some context for the following excerpts I’ll share!

Harrison

My boy

Generally very outgoing, tho around Lonan this fizzles. Only wants the best for Lonan despite their history. He’s the ‘main’ narrator of the piece (third limited to him though I’m guilty of head hopping lol), so the work has a softer tone than I’m used to. Though Harrison tries to be a Macho Man, around Lonan he’s most himself--mellow, a lil stupidly romantic, and vulnerable. 

Lonan

My problematic son/probably should be cancelled 

The “issue” in the relationship loool. He’s emotionally immature and lacks accountability, but because of his past, lacks the ability to recognize these faults and work on them. Because of this, he’s fundamentally stayed the same for the last few works he’s been in (if not gotten worse). Lonan requires a lot of emotional assistance, though he isn’t self-aware enough to recognize this. This is often the cause of much conflict. 

Conception:

Like I mentioned, I often write short spinoff stories following these boys because it’s a safe happy place for when I’m feeling stressed. This is basically how this piece started, though I’ve continued it for different reasons which I’ll get into. I don’t remember how the first scene was brainstormed, but I do know when I started writing this a few months ago, I wanted it to be a lot longer than my previous stories--a place where I could just dump my writing, even when it wasn’t good. I think I did this to cope with the stress of my writing class honestly, lol, I think I needed a break from ‘serious’ writing AKA a place I could just goof off and have some fun. 

The writing bit: 

Writing this story has been a bit inconsistent. I’ve been drafting it in little pieces since the beginning of the year, and only recently picked it up as more of a ‘full-time’ work. This is subject to change depending on whether or not I get more of book 7 done. I’ve gone from writing 20 words a day to 0 to 1000--there’s really no consistency with the drafting process here. 

I have recently decided that I’ll most likely expand this into either a novella or novel itself because there is literally so much tea left to explore and it’s surpassed 10k words. Drafting Moth Work has been so helpful in easing me back into the world of FOSTERED and piecing together the huge time gap from the end of book 6 to the start of book 7. I’ve been a bit anxious to really dive into book 7 for the fear of the unknown, so inching myself closer to that timeline through this project has been very helpful!

The editing bit:

I recently did an edit around the line level for this entire piece (it’s about 12k words right now) because a) it really needed it b) I was losing steam/starting to get embarrassed and c) I needed a refresher of what had happened because je suis tres forgetful. This edit made me feel so much better about the project. It initially started off as a work where the writing didn’t actually matter and this mentality was working until I got so embarrassed of the prose I found it difficult to read through old scenes to refresh myself and thus couldn’t productively draft. 

This project isn’t written exactly in my usual style--it’s pretty stripped back and actually reminds me a lot of how my style would’ve been in book 3 had I been a better writer four years ago lol. I think the looser style works for the voice/the story itself but I def wouldn’t categorize this as litfic (what I usually write). Although the prose isn’t very complex, it took me a really long time to get comfortable enough to edit?? But once I got into the rhythm of it a few days ago, I completed the edit fairly quickly, and I’m 100% feeling better about the project overall! Though the prose is still not my top priority I’m not as embarrassed of it currently lols. 

I also divided the project into chapters because it was getting pretty long to just be one mass of text. I currently have 3 chapters. This update will cover chapter 1. 

Playlist:

Yo this is literally the best part of writing this project, lol, I get to listen to so much different music?? I’ve made a comprehensive playlist for this story with a character by character breakdown (if anyone wants to see that/highlights, let me know!). This playlist pulls from every song from my library, so we span genres and artists like crazy. Nothing But Thieves has been the primary artist for this story (specifically their self-titled album). These songs (all NBT oop) are the most relevant if you want to get the general tone lol (anything with a star has explicitly inspired the project):

Excuse Me*

Honey Whiskey*

Tempt You (Evocatio)*

If I Get High (II)

Gods

Lover, Please Stay*

I Was Just A Kid*

Get Better

Hell, Yeah*

Afterlife

Reset Me

Particles

Sorry

Number 13

Excerpts:

I don’t have *many* because prose hasn’t really been a top priority for this project, but I’ll try to include at least one per scene. 

This is one of the opening paragraphs from chapter one which I’ve titled ‘False Idol’. In short, the chapter follows the boys first attempting to destroy the dark room and then getting distracted and eventually not pulling through after Harrison finds a picture of Ominous Lady. 

The chapter’s chronology is wild so we can break it up as follows:

Scene A

The boys enter the dark room with the intention of burning it down

Harrison reaches for his lighter and drops it which prompts him to find the photograph of Ominous Lady

Him and Lonan mildly argue about Ominous Lady until Lonan takes it too seriously and throws a tantrum :-DD

Scene B

Not really a full scene, just a bridge between scene A and C.

Harrison has been waiting for Lonan to return to their campsite for the entire day and he decides to at the very last moment

“hey so i’m unable to apologize for anything but also! cigarette! let’s share it! lungs!” 

Scene C

The boys exercising their canoeing skills

This leads us to our first “beat”.

Lonan interrupts Harrison’s peaceful evening by having a mild crisis

This takes place right after the events of Lolita, Lolita (chapter 16 of REWIRED). We then jump back to the fictive present.

 This alternates like 5 more times lol then the chapter is done!

The following excerpt describes their entry into the dark room. Don’t know how smart it is to be smoking in a room full of highly flammable material but we out here.

I don’t think she’s particularly special but I also don’t hate her so!! hoping an aesthetic photo will make it read better :’)) I ! don’t ! think ! it does ! but !

Harrison shoulders the door first, traps it open with the clip of his boot. Dust and streaks of light rake behind him as he pushes through cardboard boxes, mountains of photo paper on the ground. Lonan follows silently, still wearing Harrison’s jacket. Trails of smoke from his cigarette catch in the negatives hanging by the clothespins, chemical peel between the layers of ink. In one hand he tends to his cigarette, and in the next, lugs in the canister of gasoline they found in the cabin’s cellar. As Harrison fumbles for his flashlight, Lonan sets it down by the table so it sloshes like the Pacific. 

This is a bit of when Harrison finds the photograph of Ominous Lady:

He turns the photograph over, and shines the flashlight on it. It’s scratched and developed wrong, little bits of orange obscuring the woman’s face, but it’s very much a woman. A dark bob and bangs in her eyes, jewelry hanging from her septum. Sunshades enough to reflect the European street behind her. The discreet jet of ink on her skin, blues and greens peeking out from under her sleeve. Izzy, he recognizes. Lonan’s mother. 

Nudging Lonan with an elbow, “I didn’t know your mom has tattoos.” 

Lonan takes the photograph cautiously, holding it by the corners like it’ll burn him. His brow trembles, but it takes him only seconds to say, “That’s not my mom.” He takes the flashlight from Harrison and examines it closer, fingers nimble and tracing the edges. In the grey light of the dark room, he looks nullified. Just a monochromatic hum of chromosomes and skin. 

that’s not my MOM

After the boys find the photograph, Lonan gets triggered at Harrison’s suggestion to find the woman (he presumes her to be someone involved with his father) and promptly has a tantrum and exits. This leads us into the next scene where the boys! actually! get! on! boat! In this scene Lonan tries to say sorry for his tantrum by offering Harrison a cigarette (lol) and because Harrison is hopelessly romantic and also hopelessly dumb, says yeeeees sir! They go for a canoe ride on the water. Thought it was going to be sweet, ended up being a shitstorm but!

This paragraph is kind of toast but:

The canoe isn’t hard to get into the water. After a few nudges from the dock into the slow dip of tide, it stabilizes easily. Harrison is convinced it will capsize but Lonan knows it won’t. They take one ore each, and ignore the life jackets at the back of the shed.

The moon is large and mesmerizing. As Harrison and Lonan take turns pushing the canoe into the water, mast first, then its entire belly, it colours them silver. Lonan’s protected the cigarette in the pocket of his shirt. Harrison stares at its faint outline stretched under the fabric. Lonan steps into the canoe first, rocking with the current, and extends a hand for Harrison. He pulls him in and they row until the cabin is the size of a fingernail, the wave steady and dense. Each cut of the paddle feels like plunging a scalpel into flesh and Harrison watches Lonan do it easily. In the distance, the cabin doesn’t look so menacing. Reeve has left the lamp on by the loft, and it glimmers back like an eyeball, effervescent and tiny. Nothing but a reflective penny in the distance.

Here’s some Harrison being lame:

The water laps at the base of the canoe, and Ris reaches over and touches it like it’s holy. He makes the sign of the cross and it feels perverse, cold water dripping from forehead to chin.

For a while it’s quiet. Just the distant hum of crickets, the slash of the paddle, and the off-chance flash of something in the distance; an animal, a flashlight. Ris tries not to think about Lonan’s dad, like a dead man slithering through the water, following their boat. He picks at a saltine, sucks it between his tongue meditatively. Against the sky, Lonan is backlit and lovely and flecks of his hair peek up from around the jacket’s collar. Harrison wonders if as a child, everyone said he looked just like his father. 

On top of lacking accountability, Lonan is also a professional canoeist so he takes over while Harrison eats saltines and reminisces about an encounter they had weeks prior. This leads into the solid chunk of backstory that I weirdly jump in an out of for the entire chapter. :)

Backstory consists of drunk Lonan having a crisis while Harrison tries to have a peaceful evening of taping up his drawings to his bedroom ceiling. The following excerpt describes the moment right after Lonan enters the room.

Harrison’s lips secured around his cigarette, his hand mid-air with packing tape and line drawings of the moon. A tinny country song dribbled through the radio. The minute-meal he’d heat up in the microwave lying forgotten and cold on his desk. Harrison set the pile of drawings down and turned off the music.

“Emily left?” Lonan asked. He kept his face upward, stared clumsily at the ceiling. Harrison watched his eyes trace the new drawings, following the uncalculated pattern. 

This paragraph is made up of 5 similes and this is the only reason I’m sharing it :)))):

Lonan has stopped paddling. The canoe sits in the middle of the lake, lifeless, like a bone in the water. He’s turned so Harrison can see him in profile, and Ris can’t tell if it’s relieving or worrying to see his face. Lonan’s jaw is taut, like there are words he wants to say there but can’t. Filling up the hollow bone. He blinks slowly, like he’s trying to re-centre himself, his chest quivering with breaths meant to steady him. The water laps at the base of the canoe, whirling. Dark hair tangles down his cheeks like the fingers of a poltergeist. 

I think that’s a pretty good way to end this post lol! How many similes have you put in one paragraph? What’s your record lol this is probably mine!

Hope y’all enjoy the intro to MOTH WORK. I have two other chapters already written which I’ll update on in a separate post! For now I hope you like this more laid back project, let me know what you think!

---Rachel

[chu-ni]

candy jar -- ldh.

pairing: haechan x reader

genre: enemies to lovers?? yeah?? with some fluff?

warnings: swearing. so if you’re not into that,,,sad times :(

word count: 5.8k

a/n: in case u didn’t know this is based off the netflix film candy jar!! i got real inspired by it!!

also this is my first fic on this blog so like. please be nice sksk

“Look at him. Look at that smug look on his smug face,” you grumble under your breath, eyes shooting daggers at the boy currently sitting across from you. Ever since kindergarten, you and Lee Donghyuck (or Haechan, as he preferred to be called) have had a vendetta, of sorts.

It all started when he upstaged your speech on butterflies (which was very well written, if you said so yourself) back in kindergarten by singing a song about bees, bees, of all things! He even smiled at you as he did it. Since then, it seemed as though he’d made it his life’s mission to beat you at absolutely everything. You’d had a passion for debate as soon as you’d entered high school, and, lo and behold, your lifetime enemy had a passion for debate too. Now juniors, the both of you admittedly put a little less time into arguing with each other,and more into your studies, but after the previous captain of debate club had graduated last year, a kind upperclassman named Mark, the two of you were the top (and only willing) candidates to take his place. Your constant arguments about who should take over had resulted in the two of you currently being forced to spend some time in the counselor’s office.

“I don’t think you understand, Miss Johnson. I’m clearly more level headed and responsible than him, so I deserve the title of captain, obviously-”

“Obviously? Obviously a four time state qualifier like me deserves the title, and, when you consider the numerous contributions my parents have made to the debate club-”

“Here we go again, Donghyuck, always using your precious rich kid privilege to get what you want. Can’t you ever work for something you want like the rest of us?”

“If by ‘the rest of us’ you mean the likes of peasants, like you, then the answer is most definitely a solid no-”

“Oh my God, you’re so annoying!” You say, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“See? This is why I can’t work with her. How do you expect us to co-captain when she’s like this?”

Eyes narrowed, glaring at him, you snarl. “When I’m like what, Donghyuck?”

Pinching her nose bridge, the counsellor interrupts you two.

“Quiet, the both of you!”

You sink into your seat, cowed.

“Honestly. I asked the two of you to jointly run a group because I thought you’d be mature enough to set aside your differences– however silly they were– and work effectively. But clearly, my expectations were too high. The both of you can leave my office and return when you can speak to each other with some kind of civility.”

“But-” Haechan interjects.

“Out!” She snaps. “I wonder if the two of you are even human sometimes,” she mutters.

And with that, the two of you leave, shoving each other on your way out.

If it wasn’t bad enough that the two of you were forced to share a club together, it was even worse that the two of you were forced into sharing every class together, as well. As the bell rings, signifying an hour of sheer boredom with the one person you’d be happy to go the rest of your life without, you begin dragging yourself to your lesson when his voice pipes up.

“You know, that meeting would’ve gone a lot better if you’d just admitted the truth.”

Sighing, you look at him, already done with the conversation. “And what truth is that, Haechan? Please do enlighten me,”

“That I should be captain of the debate club. You can be my deputy, of course, that’s something you’re better suited to. But I would suit the position of captain a lot better than you. The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be.”

Your eyes narrow once more, and you honestly don’t know whether to be angry or just plain shocked that people– no– Donghyuck, can come up with such bullshit on a daily basis.

“And why would I suit the position of deputy more than being a captain, Haechan? Are you saying that because you’re a man, you’re better suited to positions of leadership? Or that I’m just supposed to sit down and accept all the bullshit you spew in an inferior position because that pea-brain of yours can’t wrap itself around the fact that a girl may be better qualified to lead than you?” He opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off, having had enough. “The amount of stupidity that you allow to leave your mouth astounds me, Lee Haechan, and unfortunately for you, I’m tired of listening to it.” With that, you stomp away from him, unbelievably irritated.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur, and honestly, in between studying for upcoming tests and finishing off projects for various classes, so does the rest of the week, thankfully, with no further interaction with Donghyuck….which is what would’ve happened had it not been for the absolute bombshell dropped on you on Friday.

“The two of you are going to represent us in the state qualifiers for the youth debate prize!” Your principal, a portly man with a receding hairline and a suit that was way too tight on him squeals in joy.

You, in comparison are far from excited. In all honesty, you’d rather fling yourself from the nearest rooftop than work with him after your last full conversation with him, which, still makes your blood boil. However, luckily, your soon to be partner, the one and only Lee Donghyuck, feels the same way you do, judging from his thunderous expression. You watch as he inhales deeply, most likely preparing a long winded speech as to why he just cannot possibly work with you, but to your surprise, you hear a simple, concise,

“Fine.”

In a daze, you nod along, and are rushed out of the principal’s office. He doesn’t say a word to you after that, choosing to run ahead to his car, making his way home. Shaking your head, you also rush home, preparing some ideas on what points to make for the set topic the next time you see him. Hopefully, you think to yourself, the next time would be a lot more bearable.

The next time you see him is completely unbearable. 

He refuses to listen, tries to one-up you at every turn, which is impossible considering you’re in a team, and his non stop snide remarks have you /this close/ to punching him in the balls.

“Donghyuck,” you hiss.

He stops whatever it is he’s doing with his cue cards for all of one, blissful second, and then promptly returns to being overall annoying.

“Donghyuck,” you snarl.

He turns to look at you this time, as though you were stopping him from doing something incredibly important. “Listen,” you start, “we aren’t getting anywhere like this.” at that, he scoffs. “You’re damn right about that.” Anger rises within you, but you push it down just so you can finish this conversation and go home already. “I think we should take a break and try again tomorrow, don’t you?” He’s silent for a few beats, and you think you’ve gotten through to him, that maybe you’ve found something to mutually agree on.

“How about we just do the work separately? I’ll plan the whole thing, and you can debate it on the day.” Of all the things you would’ve expected him to say (something more along the lines of “Thank God, I can’t wait to be as far away from you as possible!” or maybe a “Yes!”), you never thought he’d be the kind of person to say something like that. But, considering his opinion on being captain of the debate club, it begins to make sense.

“How about we actually try and work together? You agreed to us being a pair, so why don’t we at least try and share the work evenly, yeah?” You were surprising yourself with your suggestions, but you didn’t like the idea of leaving him to his own devices. “I know this may be hard for you to believe, Y/N,” he starts, “But newsflash! I don’t trust leaving you alone with something like this.” Breathing a heavy sigh, you try to get through to him, “Do I have to spell this out for you or something? We have accomplished nothing in the 2 hours we’ve been in this empty ass library, because you seem to have made it your daily mission to get under my skin. So could you be 10% less dickish for 5 minutes? Please?”

He looks deep in thought, before speaking, his blasé drawl already setting you on edge. “Hmm, maybe not.”

“Why? Why is listening to me so unbelievably hard for you?” You explode, exasperated.

“Let me spell things out for you, Y/N. Listening to you does absolutely nothing for me. I reap no rewards whatsoever, and I know your brain isn’t,” he pauses to double tap your forehead, “all there, but I thought you would’ve realised throughout this whole enemy thing that I am entirely self-serving. To put it bluntly, I don’t care.” 

Maybe Donghyuck felt a little bit bad when he saw your eyes flash with something that was less anger and more hurt, but for some odd reason whenever it came to speaking with you, his mouth tended to have a mind of its own. Maybe it was rooted in the fact that he wanted his revenge from the last time the two of you said more than 2 words to each other, or maybe he took joy in seeing you angry around him. Actually, scratch that last one. Donghyuck was many things, but a sadist was not one of them.

“Do this whole thing by yourself then. As if I could ever work with an arrogant jerk like you,” you growl, voice ice cold, before leaving the library, trying (and failing) to slam the door behind you.

Walking, and then gradually running, out of school grounds, you cursed as a single tear rolled down your cheek. You’d never let anything he’d said get to you before, so why had it gotten to you now? And over a stupid joint project, of all things. Your heart knew why, obviously- you cared about his opinion of you, even if it was generally mutually pretty shit. Your mind, on the other hand– while still trying to figure out how to stop crying, as well as the root cause of Donghyuck’s extra dose of dickishness– was coming up blank.

For the next couple of weeks, you don’t speak to him. You don’t work on your upcoming debate for the state qualifiers, you don’t look at him in debate club, and you refuse to even acknowledge his existence, both in and out of school.

That is, until homecoming rolls around.

For most of your high school career, you’d been focused on your studies. After all, you were the first generation in your family to become a college student, so why not do even better and get into a good one–no, a great one. Why not try for Harvard? That had been your philosophy since you’d graduated middle school and so you’d thrown yourself into constant studying, extracurriculars, (90% of which you’d dropped during your first month) anything to boost your college application. It was never too early to be prepared, in your eyes. As a side effect of this, you were kind of, hopeless in the friendship department. To put it nicely, you were a loner. To put it bluntly, you had no friends.

You weren’t planning on going to the homecoming dance anyway, but your mom seemed hell-bent on giving you a life that didn’t revolve around studying and bickering with a certain arrogant 18 year old asshole, and so you ended up donning a modest red dress with some heels and saying goodbye to your mom the night of.

“You’re staying over at a friends house after the party, right?”

“Yes, mom. I’ll probably come home, anyway.”

“No! I want you to have some fun, for once! Live a little, huh?”

Looking her in the eyes, you whisper your assent, and turn to go, waving at her until you’re sure she’s gone inside. Once she is, you change your direction to your local movie theatre, ready for a nice night of movies and popcorn. It wasn’t like you hated homecoming, or dances in general, you just didn’t see the point of being a sweaty gym hall surrounded by hormonal teenagers and shitty music from the top 40.

You buy your first round of snacks and settle in to watch some throwaway rom-com with an mildly interesting plot. It’s okay, but you definitely could’ve chosen a better film to waste your time with, as you found your eyes fluttering shut at some parts. You head back out into the lobby and choose a more action packed film to watch, and as you finish paying for your second round of snacks, this time consisting of more chocolates and candy than popcorn, you come face to face with the one person you’d been avoiding so well for the past couple of weeks. The two of you make awkward eye contact, which you instantly break, by the way, upon discovery that he cleans up kind of.….nice.

Really nice, actually. Could it be that Donghyuck was actually kind of…hot?

You erase that thought the second it pops into your head. You absolutely refuse to see this boy, the bane of your existence for the past decade, as anything other than the arrogant ass he is. And yet, he really does look good in the plain white suit that seems to accentuate his lean figure. You’re brought out of your thoughts by him, currently looking a strange mix of shocked and confused.

“Uh…theatre two?”

You blink, before realising.

“Oh. oh! right, I’m gonna…go..now.”

You turn and run into the theatre, but this film seems to be even worse than the last one, the shitty CGI and cardboard acting sending you halfway to sleep in the first 30 minutes. You want to get up and leave, but you don’t want to go home too early and you don’t like the idea of having wasted all that money on a film you couldn’t even finish. So you force yourself to sit through the rest of it, focusing on finishing your snacks and trying to get interested in the film.

You breathe a sigh of relief as the film ends, and you leave the cinema, ready to go home and prepare a few lines about how fun homecoming was for your mom to hear when you bump into him.

Again.

You awkwardly smile at him before beginning to walk in your house’s direction, when he breaks the silence, speaking up. “You know, I never pegged you for the lonely type.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and seeing it makes you get a special kind of angry.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Donghyuck. Least of all with you.” you reply, already feeling irritation boil in your chest.

You begin to walk away once more, when the heel on your shoe just so happens to break, and you curse to yourself, wondering why this had to happen now of all times as you attempt (horribly) to fix your shoe.

“Uh, do you need- do you need a ride home?”

You freeze.

He’d never sounded so shy, so quiet, so, not him in the 15 years you’d known him. “Why would you wanna give me a ride?” you ask, apprehensive.

“I may not like you all that much, but even i was raised better than to leave a girl to walk home alone, y/n.” Gone was the timid tone from a few seconds ago – the caustic, teasing lilt you’d become accustomed to had returned. And somehow, that comforted you. Made you feel a lot more at ease than the almost nice version of Donghyuck you’d heard a few seconds earlier. You thought about his proposition for a little longer. Could you really trust him, of all people?

Yes. Yes you could.

“…..You’ll take me straight home?”

You swore you saw his eyes light up a little, but you put it to the back of your mind.

“This isn’t home, Hyuck.”

His heart speeds up a little at the nickname you’d used, and he hopes you don’t notice the surprise in his eyes as he turns away from the collection point at the drive-thru to face you.

“Your observational skills continue to amaze me, Y/N. Tell me, how do you do it?” you can feel the sarcasm dripping from his words, but refuse to deign him with a reply. “Besides, milkshakes and fries are a great combination. And you look like you need it.” You curl your lip in disgust as he hands you your meal. “This kind of stuff ruins your organs! It’s a recipe for type 2 diabetes, Hyuck, I’m telling you,” “I’m here for a good time, not a long time, babe!” he laughs as he starts the engine and begins to drive. “Where are we going now?” You ask, groaning in annoyance. “You’d be so much better looking if you didn’t talk so much, you know that? Just relax for once, yeah?” You stiffen at the first part of his sentence, but put it to the back of your mind as you stare out the car window, aloof. The rest of the ride thankfully passes by in silence, allowing you to get lost in your own thoughts. As much as you disliked Donghyuck, you had to appreciate the (albeit unexpected) gesture that he was making for you. the experience at the cinema earlier had kind of cemented the fact that you were kind of a loner, and hyuck had made you feel…not alone. You definitely wouldn’t call him a friend, but he was most definitely less of an enemy. You slide your eyes over to look at him, bored with the view from the window. You’d never noticed it before, but his profile was actually really beautiful. The moles dotted across his cheek and neck, the slope of his nose and his even, warm skin tone that seemed to radiate the sun, and the way his full lips settled into a natural pout…

Donghyuck was not a bad looking guy.

And for all his very many faults, being ugly was very much not one of them. So why had it taken you this long to notice?

“We’re here, dumbass.” You jump, shaken and you inwardly hope he hadn’t caught you staring-

“And stop staring at me. it’s creepy.”

With that, you clearly realised why it had taken that long to notice anything about Donghyuck aside from his annoyingly big stupid mouth that never seemed to shut up.

“I wasn’t staring at you, dumbass.”

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night, sure.”

Following him to the peak of the hill he’d taken you to, you gasp. In front of you both laid the rest of the city in all of its glory. The lights dotted all over, showing a kaleidoscope of colour, the lake in the far distance, the trees within the various neighborhoods and green spaces….it was basic, but it took your breath away. Because you were so separate from it all, it gave you space to breathe, away from the hustle and bustle of your town.

“Woah,” you breathe.

“I know. Woah,” he replies, grinning. You didn’t know it, but taking you up here had been his way of apologising for how he’d treated you the last time you’d met. Hyuck was never the kind of person to apologize outright though, so this was the best you were going to get.

“This is…something else,”

As you got lost in the view below, it became Donghyuck’s turn to stare at you. Unlike you, he could actually get past the fact that you never stopped talking.

The first time he’d noticed you were somewhat beautiful was the beginning of sophomore year. You were both in the same classes for everything, but it was during a creative writing segment in English class that he’d realised you weren’t that bad. You were reading out a poem you’d written, shyly laughing to yourself when you’d made a small mistake and he’d thought you were actually kind of….cute. Of course, Hyuck would rather die than ever say that to your face, seeing as you’d never let him live it down, but it was nice to admire, wasn’t it?

“….Stop staring at me, it’s creepy!” you say, mocking his earlier tone. He should’ve been annoyed at that, but to his own surprise, he found it somewhat endearing.

“Why would I want to stare at someone like you?” He scoffed, looking away.

“If thats what helps you sleep at night, sure, Donghyuck. Sure.” You crooned, patting his head, to which he flinched away from in mock disgust.

“Ew.”

Dipping his now somewhat cold fry into his milkshake, he held it towards you. “Anyway, try this.” You looked back and forth between the fry and him for a few seconds, noticing his impatience, and snatched the fry out of his hand, taking a tentative bite. Chewing slowly, you smiled a little in acknowledgment. It actually wasn’t that bad. Doing the same thing with your own fries and milkshake, you found it was better than not bad. It was addicting, as you made a little noise of pleasure upon your third fry.

Watching you eat was probably the greatest thing Hyuck had ever had the pleasure of seeing, and the warm feeling he got when you smiled was something he was just going to have to address another day. Maybe he liked you, he thought. Maybe. But he’d sooner die than say that out loud, so for now he just enjoyed the food with you.

“I told you it was amazing,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow and you knew he was right, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“Eh. they were okay, I guess.”

Jaw dropped and eyebrows raised, he gaped at you in confusion.

“Okay!? This is the best combination known to man, I’ll have you know!”

You shrugged. “Maybe to you. The real best combination is and always will be, fries with ice cream of course,”

“You literally said that was a recipe for type 3 diabetes.”

“I said it was a recipe for type 2 diabetes, dimwit. Type 3 doesn’t even exist!”

The two of you continue to bicker like that for a couple of hours, before you both notice the time and rush to head home, stomachs full and a newfound understanding between you. As the both of you arrive outside your house, the air is clearly thick with unsaid words.

You’re the first to break the silence.

“I…I really enjoyed it.”

Taking a deep breath, you continue,

“This whole thing, I mean. So… thanks, I guess.”

Hyuck nods, saying a few words of his own.

“I'm….happy I bumped into you tonight.”

Stuttering, he continues,

“And-and I wouldn’t mind if you’d want- if you’d want to do this again, sometime?” He sounded unsure and shy, and of all things, Donghyuck hated sounding unsure, and he hated sounding anything less than confident, but you understood him all the same.

You whisper, “I think I’d like that too.”

You stare at each other a little while longer, before you break the trance by shaking your head. Clearing your throat, you make your way out of the car and move to go inside, turning around one last time.

The two of you make brief eye contact, to which you both smile, and only when you’ve finally gone inside do you hear the rumble of his car driving off.

Monday arrives, and the other members of your debate club, which consist of two loud sophomores named Jisung and Chenle, another stuck-up senior named Nancy, and a quiet freshman named Herin, are surprised to see that you and Donghyuck aren’t arguing with each other today. The dirty looks and snide comments are gone, instead replaced with a quiet respect for each other. You’re surprised as well, to see that you can actually hold a conversation with the guy without wanting to rip your hair out for the first time in, well, ever.

He stops you after debate club ends, and for once you don’t automatically feel angry.

“Do you wanna…maybe….try again with the whole project thing?” He’s quiet, and you had to strain to hear him a little, but you found his sudden shyness charming, to say the least. You were beginning to see Haechan as less of an arrogant jerk and more of a…tolerable acquaintance. Who was also kinda cute, and kinda nice. At times.

“Do you promise to listen to me this time?” You look at him expectantly.

“Yes, I promise. I’ll even tone down the dickishness!” He grins for good measure, and you’d be lying if you said his smile didn’t make your heart do flips.

You raise an eyebrow.

“I’ll stop the dickishness,” he grumbles, looking up at you through his eyelashes, which, you realised, were actually pretty long, and pretty adorable, and pretty… pretty.

Hold up.

Since when had you begun using the same adjectives to describe something? You were going to have to do something about this sudden onslaught of feelings, but it felt nice to like someone, even if that someone was Lee Donghyuck.

“So shall we start planning at mine tomorrow?” You snap out of your blatant staring (to which Donghyuck notices, but doesn’t bring up to spare you the embarrassment) in time to catch that final question, and you hum in agreement. He smiles at you again, before waving goodbye and heading off.

You make your own way home as well, a skip in your step and a grin on your face. You spend the rest of your day organising files and the like and preparing things to bring for tomorrow, which you are more than excited about, for some reason. School passes by fairly quickly the next day. You have a pop quiz you think you did okay on, you turn in homework you know you did great on, and you try your best to focus in class, but your mind keeps wandering to him. And a small part of you is kicking, screaming, and outright yelling at you to stop liking him, that you aren’t supposed to like him, that he’s just an arrogant jerk– but the larger part of you is just going with the flow and enjoying the moment while it lasts. You don’t want to like him, but you don’t have the energy to fight against your own feelings when, for once, you don’t have anything to despise him for.

The bell rings at the end of your final lesson, and you find him waiting outside for you, something that already makes your heart flutter. He grabs your hand and almost drags you to his car, a light blue convertible, and you try not to stutter at the feeling of his warm hand and how perfectly it fits into yours.

“Of course you’d have a car like this, Hyuck.” He smiles softly at the nickname, before processing the rest of what you just said. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” He splutters, indignant. “Whatever you want it to mean, I guess,” you sigh, relaxed. Donghyuck’s eyes widen. He wasn’t used to not arguing over anything and everything with you, but the silence between you two becomes a comfortable one for the rest of the ride.

You pull up by his house, and you gasp upon entering. A chandelier hangs in the entry lobby, the walls are decorated with modern art, and a white and gold colour scheme occurs throughout the house. After removing your shoes, Haechan signals you to follow him up the stairs, and you go into his room, which looks as average as any other teenage boy’s room. The colour scheme in here is different to the rest of the house, the walls painted a warm orange. There are a few t-shirts strewn across the floor, a desk in one corner with a laptop and various folders, books and stationery piled onto it. Posters of famous films like pulp fiction, kill bill, and the like decorate the walls, and by his bed you notice a stack of records with music from artists like Michael Jackson and Prince that’s dangerously close to toppling over. The room’s kind of messy, but it’s distinctly Donghyuck, so it doesn’t bother you.

You watch as he flings himself onto his bed, huffing a sigh of tranquility. “Do you wanna get started? I can go downstairs and get us some snacks, if you want,” he says, pulling himself up into a sitting position. “I’d like that,” you smile, and begin to set up your various point cards and cue cards in preparation for your upcoming debate. You’re going over a positive of your proposed argument (which discusses how beneficial a college education is, by the way) when Haechan returns with cookies that smell absolutely heavenly. He offers you one, and you bite into it, moaning in contentment. “These are great,” you giggle. “Who made them?” You ask. “I did, actually.” He mumbles. You pause your happy chewing to look at him. A light dust of pink had settled on his cheeks, and he’d begun fiddling with the edge of one of his cue cards, clearly a little embarrassed. “You- You’re a great baker, Haechan.” You whisper, lightly breaking the silence. He looks up at you, still a little red in the face, then looks off to one side once he notices your sincerity. “Th-thanks,” he mutters. “You know,” he begins, substantially louder and more confident than before, “that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” a knowing grin settles onto his face as he looks at you, and as you meet his stare, you suddenly take note of how close he’s gotten. “Could it be,” he murmurs, voice having dropped an octave, “that you like me?” Your eyes flit back and forth from his lips to his eyes, and you don’t even have time to reply before his lips are on yours.

You freeze, unsure of what to do.

At your lack of response, he begins to pull away, but you pull him back into you, moving your lips against his. He feels soft, billowy, and like everything you’ve ever wanted. If your heart went any faster than it already was you’d probably get some kind of heart problem, but you’d happily suffer cardiac arrest if it meant always being able to kiss him like this. Your eyes are shut, meaning you can’t see anything, obviously, but somehow there’s still an explosion of colour behind them. You tingle, from your head to your toes and you wonder why the hell it took you two this long to do anything like this. You sigh when his hands pull you closer by your waist, and it’s then when he pulls away. Subconsciously, you follow his lips, your eyes opening at the sound of his laugh.

“Was I that amazing?” He giggles, lips slightly reddened.

“Don’t say it like that, dumbass.”, You grumble, “It makes it sound weird.”

“Just admit it, Y/N. You like me,” he croons in a sing-song voice. Part of you wants to punch him, but you roll your eyes and look him dead in the eye instead.

“Maybe I do. What about it, Donghyuck?”

He feels a shudder down his spine at your use of his first name, but he likes it. All throughout middle and high school, he’d made everybody call him by his middle name, Haechan, because he thought it sounded better. But he found himself thoroughly enjoying the fact that you were the one who said his first name to him. Why he suddenly enjoyed it moreso in this situation than all the other times you’d called him by his first name, he did’nt know. Probably because all the other times you were growling, snarling and hissing it at him, and this time you sounded kind of..normal.

“Nothing. Just say my name again, please?”

“Don’t tell me that’s your kink.” You deadpan.

“Only when you say it, babe,”

“God, I hate you,” You growl, trying to get away from him, but he holds you in place, grinning at you.

“You know, you were a lot more bearable when you were kissing me,” you pout.

“Then make me bearable,” he says, staring directly at your lips.

And you do, leaning into him again, feeling content, happy, and just right.

The two of you begin a thing, after that day. Not quite dating, but not quite single either. For now, you’re both content just hanging out in his car and making out at various intervals and going on study dates that always end with no work done, but you don’t mind it. You aren’t really sure you mind anything, when he’s around.

The day of the debate qualifiers comes and goes without a hitch. As a pair, the both of you do well enough to make it to the finals, but you lose to a pair who seemed a lot more emotionally invested in the argument, and although you lost, you didn’t feel all that disappointed, because you won in a different way. You won an okay looking, nice enough, somewhat-boyfriend-who-wasn’t-a-boyfriend-yet, and you were happy with that. As the two of you leave the competition hall, ready to hop in Donghyuck’s car and go home, you ask him a question.

“When did you realise you liked me?”

He hums in thought, “Hmm….I liked you since sophomore year, but I think I only realised it when I took you on our first date.”

“You mean when you stopped me from going home and forcibly kept me with you as you fed me milkshakes and fries? That date?”

“Yes, that date.” He sighed in exhaustion. He liked you, a lot. Maybe even loved you. But absolutely nobody knew how to get on his nerves the way you did. And that would’ve angered him, if not for the fact that he could do the exact same thing to you.

You arrive at his car, and as you both strap yourselves in, you decide to ask another question.

“I- I am your girlfriend, right?”

Donghyuck slowly turned to look at you, face blank.

“Of course not,” he begins, “I just make out with you and take you on dates and bake you food for all of no reason, Y/N.”

You crossed your arms and looked out the window, just for an excuse to look away from him.

“You’re so mean,”

“But you love me anyway!” He beamed, and maybe, maybe just maybe, you did.

“Just kiss me, idiot,”

“My pleasure, dumbass.”

[angrylizardjacket]

ask your destiny to dance [15] {Roger Taylor}

A/N: Medium smut. 

[masterpost]

The day Ash hears Doing Alright on the radio at her favourite cafe, she screams. This, of course, upsets the other patrons considerably, but before anyone can complain, she’s shoving her fabric samples and sketchbook into her bag, sculling her lukewarm hot chocolate, and is bolting down the street. Until, of course, she’s winded enough to slow down, and decides it’s easier to catch a bus to Brian and Roger’s apartment.

She’s been there before, it’s where they insisted on having their first fitting, since it was the apartment with the most room, and sometimes on afternoons she hangs out there with the band and Mary, sure, it’s not like she’s a complete stranger to the flat. Knocking on the door, she’s breathing heavily, still excited, and she’s not sure why she’s come here, rather than to see Freddie, but as soon as the door opens, she knows why.

“I heard you guys on the radio!” Barging past a confused Roger into the living room, she turns on her heel, still a little out of breath from having run from the closest bus stop, and her smile is blinding.

“Really? Which station?” And instead of asking her about her state, or the book bag on her hip, he’s elated, making his way to the radio in their little shoe box kitchen. Ash laughs, joining him, sheepishly admitting that it was about twenty minutes ago, but he’s undeterred. “Grab the phone; we can call them up and ask to hear it again.”

The station’s blaring some Beatles song by the time they get to it, but Ash is sitting on the counter, waiting patiently for the song to end so that the radio host could announce which number to call for requests. Roger’s buzzing about the kitchen, talking how apparently Mary’s heard them played at Biba too, and his mouth is moving a mile a minute, but then the number is said and Ash is dialing as fast as her fingers will allow. With her legs hanging off the edge of the counter, Roger taps at her knees, lips pressed together where he’s trying to keep his excitement quiet.

When the host picks up, and Ash says her name tentatively, only to hear it come out of the radio a few seconds later, Roger whispers ‘holy shit’ and Ash has to fight to not say the same. Clearly and carefully she requests Keep Yourself Alive, and specifies who it’s by and what record it’s on, and minutes later, the opening notes of the song waiver from the radio, and Ash hangs up, wide-eyed. Jumping from the counter, Ash dumps her bag beside their sofa, absolutely butchering the vocals where she struts around the room, pretending to be Freddie, loud and unselfconscious in her excitement. Roger’s matching her energy, throwing himself onto one of the metal folding chairs they had as dining room chairs, air drumming and providing harmonies that would have worked if Ash wasn’t almost completely tone deaf.

As the song moves to an instrumental section, Ash changes to enthusiastically air guitarist, jumping up onto the sofa, expression almost comically intense.

“Well, I loved a million women in a belladonic haze,” while Roger suspected the notes were entirely in her vocal range, she didn’t seem to be able to hit one, and after a moment, he’d dissolved into laughter, and wrapped his arms around her waist where she was posing with a foot up on the arm of the sofa, spinning her around before putting her back on the ground, and the drums kicked in on the radio, and she looks so fucking proud. 

“That doesn’t sound half bad.” She says, grinning up at him, and he’s still got his arms around her.

“Unfortunately I can’t say the same about your singing, love.” He snickered, and Ash felt herself blush as she swatted at him, too excited to be properly annoyed, also too self aware to call him a liar.

“So you don’t think I could take Freddie’s place yet?” She asks, and Roger actually laughs at that, and Ash thinks she can feel his heart beating fast. “Where’s Brian?” She asks, voice dropping to a murmur, her own blood rushing as the song continues on.

“Still at class.” And there’s the hint of a question in his voice, and Ash’s smile stretches into a mischievous grin, something almost fond in her eyes.

“You guys are on the radio.” She murmured, pride in her voice, though her eyes are growing dark as her gaze drops to his lips. “Rog?” And he makes a hum of acknowledgement, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing or kissing her before she can finish her thought. “Does that make me a groupie?” 

“Well groupies are usually throwing themselves at me.” He said with a cocky smirk, sitting them both on the sofa, sinking into the worn, brown fabric as Ash straddled him.

“I practically bolted to your house.” Ash had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, sitting back on his thighs. One of her hands was on his shoulder, the other playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, and Roger leaned into her touch, just a little. 

“I’m not usually accosted by girls who wear the same clothes as my dad in summer.” Roger snickers, eyes drifting down to Ash’s choice of attire. She’s quiet for a long moment, and realises that he’s probably never seen her dress so casually; she’d just intended to get some sketches done at the cafe, she’d never intended people she knew to see her, and so her choice of oversized, pale blue button-down with rolled up sleeves and paint smudges all over it, tucked into navy cargo shorts, had been a perfectly acceptable outfit at the time. She’s even got her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and suddenly she feels like a mess, but the way Roger’s smiling at her, she can’t bring herself to care.

“I’m an artist, I’m allowed to dress tragically sometimes.” She shrugs, and Roger’s grip on her hips tightens as he laughs. It’s strange, mid afternoon and she’s in his house, in his lap, it feels like a whole new world. Their debatable hidden affair was usually confined to the wee hours of the morning, or the late morning depending on when they wake up, but now his hair catches the sunlight pouring in through the window, and he’s casual too. He’s wearing a pair of hideous, little red shorts that she’d seen him play in once, and a t-shirt with a faded design on the front, and for a moment she frowns, because god, does he have no sense of style? As soon as he asks about it, and she voices her thoughts, he gives her a shove, calls her a hypocrite. Leaning in low, she murmurs for him to just take the shirt off, but he doesn’t move.

“You first.” He’s got an eyebrow raised as a challenge, and Ash hums thoughtfully, before her fingers are unbuttoning her shirt, and untucking it. She’s wearing a bra that’s comfortable rather than aesthetically pleasing, and for all that he’s seen her naked, he thinks this might be the most honest he’s actually seen her.

He’s the one to suggest they move, not that it didn’t hurt a little, with Ash wearing only her oversized shirt unbuttoned, and her panties, splayed out against his ratty brown sofa, looking up at him with wide eyes that had been darkened with lust. 

She’s never been in his room before, and she’s not quite sure what she expected. It’s bigger than her room, but not by too much, clothes strewn over the floor, and the end of the bed, which is also bigger than hers, a double, instead of her little single, a cheap looking bed frame and a small but solid desk shoved into the corner and stacked high with books, which intrigues her. Roger closes the door as she makes her way over, fascinated as she reads the spines of what turns out to be worn textbooks.

“You there for some light reading?” Roger wraps his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck, his chest firm against her back. There’s notebooks that look well used, and a piece of paper with a whole list of numbers, letters, and symbols that Ash can’t decipher for the life of her, amid pencils and a pretty grubby looking eraser.

“You like, actually study, don’t you?” And when she turns, there’s almost something adoring in her eyes, endeared, and Roger raises his eyebrows at her unanticipated reaction.

“Always the tone of surprise.” He huffed out a laugh, his hands drifting lower to squeeze her bum, and when he leans in to kiss her, it’s sun-warmed and familiar, fitting together easily as he pressed her against the desk and she hopped to sit on it easily, legs parting to pull him closer as he kissed his way down her neck. He fucks her against the desk, even though she’s pretty sure she’s sitting on a notebook and also a pencil, but she can’t bring herself to care. 

When they move to the bed, he snickers at the smudge of graphite on her ass, but she’s hit with a realisation she can’t help but voice.

“I never thought I’d be here.” And she’s a little breathy, gasping for a moment as he brings one of her legs up to her chest and eases back into her.

“Really?” His voice rises in disbelief, pausing in his movements as if to emphasise his point, and Ash rolls her hips once, biting her lip to stifle a chuckle. 

“I mean, in the beginning, no way; I honestly never thought we’d last this long.” She says, and Roger’s quiet. Not needing an answer, she lets herself enjoy the moment, relaxing against the bedspread, whimpers and gasps escaping her as her eyes fall closed. She’s so fucking beautiful, Roger thinks, and even if he doesn’t say it, he’s so glad they lasted, after everything, if only for this moment. 

And then they’re moving, Ash pressing at his shoulder, urging them to move, Roger laying back against the bed as Ash rode him, throwing her head back, with her nails digging into his chest. It’s enough to make him hiss, his hips rolling to meet hers, and when she looks down at him with a heady smile, she leans down and presses a kiss to the half-moon marks her nails had left, before she’s peppering kisses along his chest and throat.

When Brian walks in the front door and sees them both eating pizza and reading trivia to one another from the paper, he has to take a moment. Ash is wearing one of Roger’s shirts. Roger isn’t wearing a shirt at all.

“I know you two are sleeping together.” He announces from the doorway.

“Interesting accusation.” Ash responds without looking away from the paper. Roger makes a hum of agreement.

“You’re wearing his clothes.” Brian says, walking over and picking up a slice of pizza for himself.

“That is my shirt.” Roger agrees, finally looking up to Brian, and Ash takes a big bite.

“Listen, Brian, sometimes friends sleep together, it’s not the end of the world.” Ash said around her mouthful of pizza, which was lost on him, and Roger had to translate for her, much to Brian’s bewilderment.

“So you’re finally admitting it?” He asks, and Ash hums, swallowing before looking up at him.

“Admitting that I came over here excited about hearing your song on the radio, and then, I suppose, one thing led to another? Yes.” Ash agreed, and Brian looked like he was quickly forming a headache.

“Neither of you are as subtle as you think you are; I know this isn’t the first time.” He sighed, and Ash turned to Roger, who raised his eyebrows, feigning mock surprise. He’s about to say something, but it’s as if Brian can already tell it’s going to be irritating and dismissive. “Listen, Ash, you’re an adult, and you’re also our stylist, I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Believe me, she does.” Roger says, reaching for some more pizza, ending his statement with a very pointed cough. Ash, looking supremely pleased with herself, watches Brian turn bright red and head for his own room, not slamming the door, but coming close.

“Freddie and John will know by the end of tomorrow I suspect.” Ash muses, and Roger looks at her, a little curious.

“Is that okay?” And he actually seemed like he would offer to do something if it wasn’t. Ash gives him a small smile.

“They were going to find out eventually.” She paused, but only for a moment. “We should probably keep it simple and say it started after you broke up with Kristin.”

“That wasn’t that long ago.” He said softly. Ash shrugs.

“It was like a month and a half ago; it’s believable.” She offered, and Roger hums thoughtfully, sliding across the sofa to rest his head in her lap. She’s tempted to rest her slice of pizza on his face, but ultimately decides against it. The way he’s smiling at her, grin just a little sharp, she’s pretty sure he watched the idea pass through her mind too.

“Do you know what time the next bus comes, I should probably get going before it gets dark and people are more likely to stab me.” She asks carefully, and Roger’s expression turns thoughtful as he watches her eat, quietly waiting for a response.

“Seems a bit extreme; you know you could just stay.” It’s so casual the way he says it, and Ash shrugs, accepting the offer without much thought. His bed is far more comfortable than hers, though he’s not living in uni housing, so you’d hope it was, and it’s big enough to spread out in. But they don’t. When they’re not fooling around, they’re chatting about everything and nothing, as they were sometimes want to do, and Ash gets around to asking him about his degree just as she’s about to fall asleep. They’re holding hands, which again, not necessarily something Ash had expected when they’d first started out, but she’s on her side with her free hand beneath her pillow. She’s just wearing one of his shirts and her underwear, and she brings their hands up to rest between their heads on the mattress, arm now at a more comfortable angle, and she drifts off as Roger gets in to complaining about one of his classes.

By the time he realises she’s not paying attention, she’s already mostly asleep. There’s something about the way she sleeps that makes her seem almost innocent, perhaps it’s that she’s not trying to put up a front, and her mass of ginger hair halos her, so soft it almost hurts. Roger’s never conciously thought of a woman as ‘sweet’ before, but it’s the only word that fits in this moment. He presses a fond kiss to her knuckles of her joined hand. Ash stirs just a little, making a hum of acknowledgement that Roger knew all too well as ‘completely passed out, just felt a sensation, can maybe spout a few random words’. 

Except it’s not just some random gibberish. It’s two words spoken through a yawn:

“Love you.”

the ususal suspects: @deakydickfanpage @hollyissuchahoe @laueecakee @smittyjaws@crystalshines2909 @i-am-sarah @legendsaresooftenwarnings@2ptonpt @benhardy24-7 @maiilovely @mickey-yr-a-goner @butter-times@heyyouitskay @tired-eyes-fairy-lights @yepimthatperson @missieluvsmurder@ironqueen98 @ceruleanrainblues @banhbao329 @fantasticchaoticwho @ko-kitty @seven-seas-of-hi @mimisfangirlfantasy @aadjuric @rogmobile@cardybenhardy @snacfu @perriwiinkle @the-strange-fan-girl @finite-incantatem-7 @tapetayloe

[metalandmagi]

March Media Madness!

Hello and welcome to the post where I talk about all the movies, books, and TV I consumed this month in my seemingly never ending quest to shout my feelings into the void. And oh boy all the winter anime is ending so I feel dead inside.

*puts on sunglasses* Let’s do this.

Movies!

Bohemian Rhapsody: The one about Queen Freddie Mercury. And it’s pretty good. It’s a little weird seeing a biopic of a band with literally no struggles getting into the industry, and I wouldn’t say it does wonders for the negative stereotypes about bisexuals...but who cares because if you’re watching this movie, it’s because you just want to sing along to some Queen songs and see some big hair! 8/10

How to Train Your Dragon- The Hidden World: The third and final installment in the How to Train Your Dragon trilogy, in which Dreamworks pulls a Butterfree on us, but at least we get a happy ending. This franchise holds a special place in my heart for so many reasons, and I’m glad that this one stuck the landing. Each movie has its own specific feeling and message, and they all advance the story in unique ways. Apart from being beautifully animated and hilarious, it also packs the big emotional punch we all were expecting and ends on a satisfying note overall. But it’s still not perfect. The other riders are at their most useless by far, and this is coming from someone who never really minded them before. They’re a lot more irritating if you’ve watched the tv series and can see how they can be useful. And Astrid really only provides emotional support instead of her usual ass-kicking. The villain was...fine...but he didn’t really pack much of a punch. And I really wished they had kept some sort of continuity and embraced the television series (I NEED A DAGUR CAMEO)! But these are mostly small things. If you haven’t given this franchise a try yet, please give it a chance! 9/10

Ralph Breaks the Internet: The poorly named sequel to Wreck It Ralph, in which Ralph and Venelope must travel to the internet to save Sugar Rush and keep the game characters from becoming homeless. It’s a fine follow up, but it definitely doesn’t have the same impact the first one did. There’s a heck of a lot going on in this movie, and it feels like it tried to do too much in terms of plot and character arcs in favor of sacrificing the humor from the first movie. And I really miss Felix and Calhoun. But there are a lot of good things about it too. Everything the Disney princesses do is pure gold, Shank is amazing, and there is a ton of effort put into building the world of the internet. I’m sure it will be pretty dated in a couple years, but it’s not just a quick cash grab full of name dropping and references (even though Disney seems like it wants it to be). It’s still worth checking out. 7.5/10

A Quiet Place: A family must survive in a world where deadly alien monsters that are attracted to sound have invaded the planet. I am the world’s biggest wimp when it comes to scary movies, and even I was interested enough in the premise to want to see this movie. And yes it’s amazing! The performances are all incredibly moving and believable, we get good representation of a Deaf character, the sound design is so creative it should be used in film classes, and it tells a thrilling and heart wrenching family story in only an hour and a half. I think I liked it because the focus wasn’t on the monsters just going around killing people. It’s about a family and what parents will do for their children. People like to say there’s a ton of plot holes, but if you actually think about them for more than five seconds, you’ll see there’s really nothing to pick apart because their decisions all make sense in the end.

My only question is about the cochlear device the daughter (Regan) uses. Was the dad (Lee) trying to make a new cochlear implant? Did Regan already have the internal component implanted in her cochlea? Had she been using one since before the monsters came? Did it break earlier because of the monsters’ connection with electromagnetic waves? Because if not...CIs don’t really work like that. I’m just confused about that situation. But that’s kind of nitpicky when this movie is still amazing. Even if you hate horror movies, I’d highly suggest it simply because of how creative its production is. 9/10

Mary Poppins Returns: It’s exactly what it sounds like...Mary Poppins returns to help the now adult children of the Banks family with the help of Lin Manuel Miranda. It’s fun, but it definitely goes on too long. Though I appreciate Emily Blunt putting her own spin on the character. Odds are if you like the original, you’ll probably like this too. 8/10

Fantastic Beasts- The Crimes of Grindelwald: The second movie in the Harry Potter prequel-verse, where Grindelwald basically becomes wizard Hitler and Newt is more concerned with winning Tina back then saving the world. Okay...this movie is not great. Structurally it’s a mess, the fun is being sucked out of the wizarding world, the characters make decisions that don’t align with previous behavior and make no logical sense, and there really is just the bare bones of a plot. There are also several characters that don’t need to be there and are just thrown in for fanservice (for now anyway). I found myself constantly saying how things don’t work like that and asking why things are happening. But even so, there are still good things about it. Visually it’s...fantastic. Jude Law makes a good young Dumbledore, and even Johnny Depp embodies what I always imagined Grindelwald at the height of his power would be like...I just wish it wasn’t Johnny Depp. I also wish it had more humor, because what was there was funny. It’s really just a transition film, which proves this franchise should never have been five movies, and Rowling should have focused on a Marauders era series or on young Dumbledore and Grindelwald. You just have to form your own opinion. 6.5/10

Maquia- When the Promised Flower Blooms: An immortal girl becomes a teen mom to an orphaned baby after her clan is killed. It’s basically a high fantasy version of Wolf Children. I honestly don’t know what to think about this movie. It does the family relationships so well and really drives home what it means to be a parent. However, its setting really throws me out of the movie because it tries to focus so much on the politics and background of this world without really succeeding. And because it is about a baby growing up, the pacing is so fast it will give you whiplash. But it is beautifully filmed and animated, and I would have bawled my eyes out at the ending if I wasn’t so distracted by how much I didn’t like the other characters and things that were happening at the castle. So...yeah, it’s a well animated, hard hitting movie that will probably mean more to parents overall. I just wish it was a TV series or a trilogy or something other than a two hour film. 7.5/10

Free Solo: A National Geographic documentary covering Alex Honnold, a man who is attempting to climb up the 900 meter side of El Capitan at Yosemite national park...without ropes or safety equipment. Yes, this is an incredible feat and the actual climbing portions are gripping and super intense. But personally, I found who Alex is as a person much more fascinating...and not necessarily in a positive way. Honestly, he can be a jerk. This sounds horrible to say considering he’s a real person and he’s doing something amazing, but seriously watch this movie and tell me this man is not one step away from being a sociopath. It’s completely understandable why he thinks the way he thinks, but it’s not exactly healthy for the other people in his life. I would be just as interested to see a two hour therapy session with him as I was with his climbing. Anyway, if you love gorgeous scenery and butt-clenching thrills with a side of psychologically interesting perspectives, watch this on the biggest screen possible. 8/10

The Matrix: REALITY IS AN ILLUSION, THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM, BUY GOLD BYE

Yeah I’d never seen The Matrix, but I really didn’t expect it to be EXACTLY like the Oto arc in Tsubasa Chronicles. It’s too long, Neo’s an incredibly flat protagonist (but I feel like that’s on purpose to serve some sort of self-insert fantasy), and it seems like a YA dystopian fantasy series from 2013...but in an endearing sort of way. And hey it’s got a lot of cool slow motion fighting and neat body horror if you’re into that sort of thing. 7/10

Books!

Dry by Neal and Jarrod Shusterman: What happens when California literally just runs out of water one day? A group of teens go on an apocalyptic field trip to find some of course! I’ve only read one other Neal Shusterman series before, but I’m sensing a pattern of how well Shusterman can propose a theoretical question and then build an entire world around it. And this duo knows how to cover as many bases as possible because every time I ask a question about how something world work, the authors answer it almost immediately. This is a great story with very well written characters, and it even has a small hilarious twist in the end that makes you completely rethink everything about one of the characters. Most importantly it doesn’t follow the Scythe series’ formula of terribly written romance. However...it’s definitely a major bummer. It’s very interesting to think about, and it’s a roller coaster of a story...but the roller coaster only goes down and makes you want to scream all the time. If you like books that make you question human behavior and society, definitely check it out, but get ready to start hoarding all the water you own. 8/10

Jackass!: Okay this one’s a manga, but I’m still counting it. Honestly I don’t even know how to describe the plot...there’s two boys...there’s pantyhose...there’s a fun side character who is openly gay and doesn’t take shit from anyone...there’s introspection about how to deal with developing feelings and realizing you care about someone. It has the most awkward premise ever, but it’s unfairly good I promise. The less you know going in the better. 8.5/10

TV Shows!

The Umbrella Academy: A family of seven children with super powers who were “adopted” by an eccentric billionaire become child superheroes. So naturally, they all grow into jaded adults who are now tasked with saving the world from the inevitable apocalypse. And it’s...amazing. Like, this should be the new Stranger Things amazing. It’s a Netflix original based off the Dark Horse comic series, and it has one of the most binge worthy plots I’ve ever seen. It is capable of pulling off some very weird things because it just leans into it. The setting and aesthetic is very similar to A Series of Unfortunate Events where different time periods seem to collide, and it works pretty well. It has (mostly) likable characters, interesting and/or empathetic villains, great use of music and editing, and Emmy worthy performances. The only thing I don’t like (aside from them killing off a perfectly interesting character for no reason at the beginning of the show) is the romantic relationship between two of the siblings. Because naturally they had to put a romance in it, and it just sort of conforms to the idea of “adopted siblings aren’t related so it’s not weird.” But even they have some great scenes together so I can’t be too annoyed. It’s amazing. Please watch it. 10/10

Ducktales (2017): The reboot of Ducktales, in which the three nephews of Donald Duck go on mysterious adventures with their obscenely wealthy uncle. I’m pretty sure we all know this as the cartoon where Scrooge McDuck swims in his giant pool of money. It took me a long time to get to, but I like it! Webby is an amazing character, and even though the boys can be annoying, at least they all have their own personalities. I just wish Launchpad was a little less...stereotypically clueless. I’ve never seen the original series, so I can’t compare them, but I’d recommend it for everyone who likes Gravity Falls style mysteries and satisfying story arcs. 8.5/10

Carmen Sandiego (2019): The Netflix original animated series that focuses on a master thief who travels the world stealing important artifacts before an evil organization can get to them first...AND HOLY CRAP WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS!? I don’t know anything about the original Carmen Sandiego franchise, but dang this revamp is awesome. Carmen is a great character who banters enough to be a Marvel protagonist, there’s unique animation, some mystery, and its own twists. The side characters may not be for everyone, but I like them...well, most of them. Apparently the purpose of the original franchise was to be educational, so they do sound like they’re reading the Wikipedia page for every new place they visit in the beginning of each episode, but at least the cultural things they mention always come back into play later. If you liked the new She-Ra or shows with great heroines, PLEASE WATCH IT! 9/10

Queer Eye (season 3): The third season of the ridiculous makeover show where five fabulous gay men rocket into people’s lives to boost their self confidence and keep them from living in filth. I hate that I love this show so much. I don’t like things that try to be overly emotional, but dang it, this show will just make you feel happy...and then sad...and then happy again. 10/10

Honorable Mentions

THE LAST SEASON OF STAR VS THE FORCES OF EVIL IS AIRING! Stop sleeping on this gem people!

Netflix finally released the rest of Arrested Development season 5

I started watching Yu Yu Hakusho because it’s a classic and the dub is hilarious.

I also started watching The Librarians. It’s...something that’s for sure.

And I’m currently reading Reign the Earth which is basically Avatar the Last Airbender set all in the desert.

[sshibalx]

The venom of my ambition, I sharpened my knife every day, but because of my uncontrollable greed, my knife became dull ⫸

Kim Jun-Myeon + cismale + he/him.┊ ❛ ━ hey, is it just me or do you hear Born Hater by Epik High playing in the distance ? oh, thats just Ssibal, a Chaotic Evil member of the league of villains. i suspect they might be Han-Jae Song (승한재), a twenty-nine-year-old Research Manager at Haggis Tech with the ability to manipulate all aspects of filth, rot, and putrefaction. according to my sources, he can be assiduous and multi-skilled, but also muddled, and closed-minded which is probably why they remind everyone of an ceramic ashtray full of half-used cigarettes shattered on the ground as the wind picks up the debris, a black coffee stain on a white cashmere versace turtleneck sweater, and a assortment of rotting fruit in a glass bowl on an black marble island counter. so much. anyway, a supervillain or not, crystalline city is keeping a close eye on them!

pintrest || the powers || wanted connections || spotify ||  musings || playlist || threads (updated daily) || tasks

BASICS ⫸

Name: Name: 승한재 or Han-Jae Song Nicknames/Alias: Nickname: Dr. Song in the professional setting. Han for his close friends. Jj only by his mother. Face Claim: Kim Jun-Myeon (Suho from Exo)  Age: He is 29 years old, though he does appear to look younger. Gender: Cismale. Sexuality: Sapiosexual. He finds intelligence and the human mind to be the most sexually attractive feature for a potential sexual relationship as opposed to gender. Date/Place of Birth: He was born Januaray 20, 1990 in Busan, South Korea. Astrological Sign: Acquarius-Capricorn Cusp Ennegram: 7,6,3 Myers Briggs: ENTP, The Debater Super Power: Filth Manipulation Alignment: Chaotic Evil Languages: broken hieroglyphics, Spanish, Greek, German, Arabic, Korean, English Religious Beliefs: “When you die, you rot in a hole in the ground.” Currently: Crystalline City, Downtown District. Occupation: Head of Research, Haggis Technology Rank: Upper Class

HISTORY ⫸

Childhood/Family Life: Han’s childhood was his opinion entirely without flaw, and he reflects of those family memories fondly. His hometown of Busan was full of wonder and excitement. The family of four partook in many family outings, picnics in the park, afternoons at Haeundae Beach, eating fish cakes down Seomyeon, and visiting the many local shops. Of the many places he lived, Busan is his favorite. Though, as to not tarnish those memories, he’s sure he’d only return if it were absolutely necessary. 

The nightmares of his family home decayed and decomposing haunt him all too frequently 

The family uprooted their location the year he turned 8 years old. A turning point in his mother’s career left them with no other choice but to follow her to Eygpt. And while the first move was particularly hard on him, he found time to forgive his mother as she introduced him to many experiences in his life; from bathing elephants in India, to visiting the many wonders of the world, Han, too, found himself a helpless wanderer, so long as his family was close by.

As a child, he portrayed questionable behavior. His obsession with death and decomposition started in his early formative years. It was a typical day at the beach when a larger predatory bird swooped down to pick at another seemingly flightless bird. Having scared off the vulture, he stared down at the warbler, it’s outward appearance withering in front of his eyes. While it elicited a typical reaction from his sister, the power consumed him, and never left his body. His father would later find out his son inherited the super powers that he’d hope to pass down. 

Though he learned most of his skills from his father, he gained his love for life from his mother, Shion Song. Having a very close relationship with her, and given her ordinary status, she is undeniably the most important person in his life. 

His sister, Seon-mi, being the second most important person, though he does have trouble speaking this verbally. Throwing cash at her and cleaning up her messes is suitable enough for their relationship. And while he’ll insist she find a better job and her own place, Han doesn’t necessarily think he’d be able to live alone in his condo.

“We promised we’d never speak of Mexico again.”

But Han-Jae is far from the perfect example of an ideal role model and self-less brother. There are some messes he can’t clean by himself, and that’s where their father comes into play. And despite his hatred for Heroes and the League in general, Han does believe there is one true superhero, that being Min-Jae Song, his father. There is no doubt that Han has made his parents proud, though there are some aspects where his father and him disagree on. Seon-mi, being the favorite and far better at her abilities, applied a small amount of pressure on his relationship with his father.

Education: For the most part, and due to their constant nomadic tendencies, the children were homeschooled for quite sometime. Having ever only attending a quick couple of years in highschool.  

Accomplishments: Han was accepted into Berkeley College where he recieved his PhD in Infectious Diseases and Immunity, and while typically the next logical step would to beome a specialist, Han spends his time flourishing his career at Haggis Technology. With its reputation and great technological advances, Han believes that he can find a cure for his mother’s ordinariness. 

Regrets:  Not necessarily a regret, but a constant fear that he will have to listen to his father’s guidance in tapping into his more regenerative abilities. Decomposition being his specialty, Han has trouble understanding that this power could stem from his father’s Infinite Supply. With his pessimism towards human life, their greed, and their vanity, Han believes they deserve the rot and decay they inevitably endure. This is problematic, because his mother, despite how much of a super she can appear to the family of supers, is ordinary, and she too will have to undego the same processes of typical humans and organic matter; death, old age, decay.

Secrets: His family is quite unaware of the research he does. As his research requires test subjects, he finds it a little inappropriate sharing his findings with them, and his end result-- finding a cure to his mothers inevitable decay. And since he is not entirely morally stable in his ideals in humanity, he does cross a couple of bridges when it comes to finding test subjects. This is where Sshibal, his alter-ego, comes into play, and the looming fear that his sister knows that he is the reason behind a couple of missing persons reports.

PERSONALITY ⫸

Positives/Virtues/Skills: He is assiduous, multi-skilled, and very ambitious. His family is very important to him, followed by the work he does at Haggis, and while he doesn’t believe in the more optimistic ideals the company represents, he does agree that technology and science contribute to his own obsessions. Therefore, he would do anything for the company, having helped in his own ways for it’s recent successes in the research department.  He can be quite charismatic, golden-tongued, taking on leadership roles to pass the time. Creative, resourceful, and intellectually quick, he’s good at a broad range of things. He enjoys debating issues, and is very much into "one-up-manship". He gets very excited about new ideas and projects, but tends neglect the more routine aspects of his life ie keeping his apartment clean, laundry, keeping an organized work desk. Generally outspoken and assertive, he enjoys people who he finds are stimulating company; coworkers and fellow members of the Syndicate. 

Flaws/Weaknesses: Because of his ambitions, he can seem to be in constant motion, never feeling like his goals are met-- this being a theme in his life due to his mother constantly moving them around. He, therefore, can seem very muddled, disorganized, and for lack of better words, all over the place. When he has trouble explaining his theories, concepts or processes he can be very temperamental, cold, and pompous. Making him a little hard to work with. Under stress, he, at times, losses the ability to generate possibilities, and becomes obsessed with minor details. These details may seem to be extremely important to him, but in reality, are usually not important to the big picture. Outside of his colleagues and syndicate friends, he not at all as social as his personality would convey. He has a natural distaste and distrust for anyone outside of his family. He, therefore, tends to fall into rather toxic relationships with others, often times never revealing his true emotions. While he is very upfront with his intentions, he tends to hide his feelings in fear of rejection. 

Likes: tea, fish cakes, traveling, fruit, expensive pens, expensive clothing, glass aesthics, expesive watches, expensive wine, elephants, a quiet office

Dislikes: humans, half of his interns--if not all, his cigarette addiction, the messes he always seems to create, Mexico, meeting his sister’s friends, his sister’s personality, pleasing others, white paper-- reports should always be printed on beige, the color white in general

Dreams/Ambitions: To cure his mother from her human form.

Hobbies: Meditation, running, traveling, wine tasting, research.

Fears: He fears losing his mother. He fears losing his sister. He fears that his father will no longer wish to save him from his destructive tendencies. He secretly fears that these relationships are the best relationships that he will experience which is why he fears losing them. He fears of becoming trapped, stuck, or stagnant in his life. He fears failure. He fears that his memories aren’t as accurate as he believes them to be. He fears that his childhood home is not being taken care of. 

Comforts:  When his sister is at home safe, and not out on the town, money, his father’s scent in the wind as he’s being bailed out of whatever unfortunate circumstance he’s in, the smell of mold

[dearestpartnerofgreatness]

Character ask: Benedick Hobbes (LoLiLo) Frankie Price (FMWL), Rochefort (A4o), Janet (The Good Place)

Benedick Hobbes 

overall: who? / i hate them / i dislike them / kinda wanna fight them / they’re alright / i like them / i love them / *accidentally drops thousands of pictures of them*opinion: again, who??? / the purest bean / cinnamon roll / who knows really / sinnamon roll / the problematic fav (at least in Lolilo)otp(s): Beadick HELLOOOOOOOOother ship(s): nah#noromo ship(s): Ben/birds, Ben/Balthazar, Ben/Pedrocrack ship(s): nahhhhhhfav headcanon(s): Every week Benedick visits the aviary at the local zoo where he has given each bird its own name & memorized their personalities.

Sometimes he lies awake at night because all he can think about is the possibility that everyone close to him might go off and live their lives doing amazing things and leave him behind…but then he gets a text in the group chat or feels Bea’s breathing against the back of his neck and he’s alright.

His first professional video project is a music video for a song off of Balthazar’s first EP–it gets many compliments/views & he’s super proud of it.

His go-to shower song is “The Phantom of the Opera” (yes, he sings both parts including Christine’s high note at the end).

One time Bea sneezed and he thought it was the cutest thing ever and he went on about how adorable it was to Pedro for like an hour.  

Frankie Price

overall: who? / i hate them / i dislike them / kinda wanna fight them / they’re alright / i like them / i love them / *accidentally drops thousands of pictures of them*opinion: again, who??? / the purest bean / cinnamon roll / who knows really / sinnamon roll / the problematic favotp(s): Top choice is Frankie/self-respect. Although I’m happy she ended up with Ed considering she loved him, I would have been ok with her ending up alone as long as she was happy & confident in herself. Frankie/Ed is good too tho. ;) other ship(s): Nah. Never shipped her with Mary or Henry, tbh. #noromo ship(s): Frankie/Rory, Frankie/Julia, Frankie/Susie, Frankie/Will crack ship(s): Frankie/Rory (I JUST LOVE RORY OK AND THEY HAD FUN HANGING OUT TOGETHER but yeah I know it wouldn’t really work lol) fav headcanon(s): Frankie is totally the angel who carries around extra pads/tampons and always has them ready whenever a total stranger needs them.

Every year at the end of term, Frankie compiles a “What We Accomplished” montage for Ed’s class so they can see how much they learned & grew. (Ed supplies her with the footage of course; she’s not just popping in to film during the school year lol)

Whenever Frankie is feeling sad or lonely she watches the episode where Will surprises her and then she feels happy again. 

Frankie, being the dutiful and kind friend she is, agrees to read & give feedback on the first drafts of Susie’s Doctor Who fanfiction. What’s more, she never forgets to give every final version a kudos & leave compliments in the comments once they’re posted on ao3. 

Although she always turns down Yates’ offers to put her in his next project, she does agree to edit the trailers for Lovers’ Vows II: Betrayal Cometh (featuring Julia as a meaty & complex villainess) and Lovers Vows III: ‘Til My Last Breath (which, according to Rory, apparently has a plot twist that rivals that of Frozen). 

Rochefort

overall: who? / i hate them / i dislike them / kinda wanna fight them / they’re alright / i like them / i love them / *accidentally drops thousands of pictures of them*opinion: again, who??? / the purest bean / cinnamon roll / who knows really / sinnamon roll / the problematic fav otp(s): n/aother ship(s): n/a #noromo ship(s): ROCHEFORT/DOROTHY (the ultimate bromance), Rochefort/Portia, Rochefort/Treville crack ship(s): nahhhhhhfav headcanon(s): The group plays a ruthless game of Capture the Flag (Connie, Dorothy, Rochefort, & Monte v Treville, Portia, Henry, and Alex) and the only reason Team Connie wins despite Team Treville’s excellent strategizing is that Rochefort and Dorothy are a combined force to be reckoned with–not only do they have no shame when it comes to hiding in trash cans, they fake a huge fight in which Rochefort pretends to quit the game entirely, luring the opposing team into a false sense of security. They then ambush poor Portia (who was guarding her team’s flag) with contraband Super Soakers. 

He idolizes Michelle Obama (as we all should) and for his birthday one year the group gets him a framed & signed photograph of her as a joke but he keeps it in his room as a reminder to BE THE MAN MICHELLE KNOWS YOU CAN BE, OWEN. MAKE HER PROUD.  

One time Treville complimented his outfit and now he wears that exact ensemble once a week because wouldn’t you (#outfitrepeater) 

Henry & Rochefort spend hours playing Fortnight together; it’s their THING and honestly it makes him feel so cool to have a “thing” with another dude. Growing up, he never had a ton of close friends, but now he does and it’s super wholesome. 

The first time Alex felt too anxious to go to class Rochefort appeared at her door the next day with detailed/color-coded notes. Now, every time she feels that way due to anxiety/depression or has to miss an MST meeting for therapy/doctor’s appointments, she knows he’s got her back. 

Janet

overall: who? / i hate them / i dislike them / kinda wanna fight them / they’re alright / i like them / i love them / *accidentally drops thousands of pictures of them*opinion: again, who??? / the purest bean / cinnamon roll / who knows really / sinnamon roll / the problematic fav otp(s): Janet/Jason other ship(s): oh come on you know they’re perfect #noromo ship(s): Janet/Michael, Janet/Eleanor (would love more Janet/Tahani and Janet/Chidi friendship moments in Season 3!) crack ship(s): Janet/Jianyu (lol) fav headcanon(s): Since Janet can read humongous books in literally milliseconds, she gets through Chidi’s manuscript with zero trouble and actually converses with him about aspects she found interesting.

She and Jason still can’t figure out how to have sex so she begs Eleanor to let her borrow the Cheleanor tape to learn how.

Michael and her have matching friendship bracelets made out of paper clips.

For Halloween she and Jason dress up as Velma & Scooby Doo.

To her delight Eleanor & Tahani start inviting her to girls’ nights where they paint nails & gossip and watch British Bakeoff and drink margaritas (she just throws on some magnets and she’s good to go). 

[aggresivelyfriendly]

~Who Names The Colors~

Good Morning Lovers-I’m 12 hours early, because I’m takin my babies to the beach and am not sure when I’ll be back!! Are we all on fire from gucci? I hope this throws on some gasoline!! Scream at me, send me messages, songs,etc!!!

He’s much younger than her, but nobody is anywhere near illegal! Hope you enjoy!

I owe very much alot to @bleedinglove4h, @nocontrolforlouis, and @dirtystyles-who made the banner.

November 2014

"But that's not art, that's porn!" The girl in the front row was ready to stamp her foot, and there was part of Jo that agreed. Koons' Made In Heaven series was made to be deliberately pornographic. It was certainly made to titillate, but mostly to challenge norms, which made it art. Before Jo could say any of this someone spoke up.

"That's the point." Harry's lazy drawl tumbled out. She didn't look at him, though he had continued to sit front and center in her class. Jo did her best not to, she knew her eyes would linger and the distance she nearly crossed in her studio and had worked hard to reassert would be gone entirely. Today's class on eroticism in art, which she had taught matter of factly for three years, felt like a mine field. Jo kept her eyes off Harry though she usually liked to look at the speaker, she could not put her eyes on him without remembering all the other things she wanted to spread over him. Everybody else was looking at him, anyway. Maybe because he was relatively quiet in class. Harry responded when called upon, but Jo avoided that too. He still always caused a stir and Jo had found out from eavesdropping on her students, his art was known, and his eclectic style and perceived mysterious ways added to his mystique. Jo who had known him when, knew he wasn't being deliberately aloof, but was shy and introverted, and occasionally self conscious, saw his choices for what they were. He dressed the way he did, as armor, a display to appear braver than he was. Based on everybodies' obvious interest in him, it was working.

The girl who had spoken, Lara, Jo recalled, and her friend, Cecilia, loved to chat about Harry, and tried to catch his eye whenever they could. He didn't notice of course. Jo wondered if he was aware of what he looked like, the pull of his gravitas, and power of his presence. She'd think it was just her because of her 'feelings' if she didn't see everybody and hear some of the responses to him.

Lara looked completely confused. She was miffed that Harry had disagreed with her but Jo could see the excitement simmering that he was paying attention to her at all, that his eyes were on her as he participated in the discussion that she initiated.

"It's meant to be provocative, and you're lookin at it with today's eyes, which is anachronistic. This was 1990 or something. Seeing graphic sex was totally counter-cultural and pornography was a lightening rod. Like gay rights now- or trans issues.It would be like someone using a trans couple now."

Lara's face twisted a bit and Jo watched Harry bow up. "That would be porn too!" She said with barely concealed disgust.

Harry looked red in the face and Jo realized that the discussion had wondered into activist territory for him. She wanted to hear what he had to say, but didn't want him to blow.

"Harry is right," She interrupted with her professor hat on. "Though Koons is a controversial figure- it is a huge part of his schtick, the context of a piece can be what defines it as art. For instance, why is a collection of neon soup cans or spattered paint art?" Jo was trying to steer the conversation.

Harry's shoulders were heaving a little and she saw him shoot a not so nice look at Lara and pick up his iced coffee violently. She was actually glad for the turn of the conversation. Jo and Harry had a meeting today and the vibe of earlier was not how she wanted to go into office hours with him after their last time alone. Without a break in the tension, she knew she would be saying his name. But that crisis seemed to be averted. As was her very tiny, largely ignored fear that Harry may have noticed or liked Lara. She was lovely, he should like her, respond to her interest. Her little green eyed monster cheered when Lara again chimed in response to her question and put another nail in the coffin.

"Well, I'm not sure they are art!" Jo shamefully cheered inside at Harry's huff at Lara's statement.

His face twisted and it was clear he wanted to engage in the conversation again, but then another student started talking about abstraction and automatic art theory and the class had totally moved of the original topic but it was great. She was enjoying the ping ponging opinions in the classroom. She sat of her desk and smiled when by a crazy turn of events Lara was defending Warhol. Somehow Jo's eyes caught Harry's. He still looked frustrated but he  lit up a little at whatever he saw on her face and she nodded.

She was wondering if he'd want to talk about his frustration in their meeting- she wanted to. But it had little to do with his work or his final project that they were still trying to determine and everything to do with curiosity. Jo wanted to know things like that about Harry. When he was younger and would watch her, he would ask questions and she would answer, but they didn't talk about much beyond art.

They had reversed places, in office hours, he talked and responded to her questions and she listened. Harry had been an actively creating artist for years whereas Jo had been simply dabbling. The role reversal was exciting.  But Jo found that when he talked about his process she wanted to hear about his influences and his influences made her want to hear about him.

She wanted to talk about exactly why the Lara interaction had soured his mood so. Though the acidic tingle of the conversation meant Jo would be able to hear it rather than watching his lips curls and pout while he talked. That was helpful. Jo glanced at her watch, the smart one that yelled at her for sitting to paint for more than one hour at a time. Class was over technically and Jo would have let them continue talking about whether art could be high culture and pop culture at the same time. They had just gotten into Lady Gaga and Jo was living. And that was bringing them back to whether art could be low culture as well she could feel that they would get back to porn and erotic art and she was sad she was going to have to put an end to it.

There was another class who needed the space, but Jo was loving the class. Even Harry seemed to have perked up and was talking about Gaga and her relation to Warhol and she had to call time, because she could see the grumpy old lass who taught first year art history at the window. She, Victoria Persuppins, was not Jo's biggest fan, apparently she had an eye on Jo's work space and was happy to be the only female art faculty member, until Jo. She had especially side eyed Jo once she had started dating another faculty member and had a baby. How dare she! Jo wanted to roll her eyes at her displeased face. But instead.

"Sorry, guys, that is our time for today-though I could listen to you all go on all night!" She smiled huge at everybody, and they all smiled back, including Lara, but especially Harry. Jo had caught his eye when she scanned through the first time and she wanted to stay and look at his giant dimples. She made eye contact with everybody, but her eyes went right back to Harry and even when the rest of the student had moved on to looking at each other and packing up, a few even sprinting from class, he was still waiting for her gaze. Harry's eyes were glowing and she wanted to measure his asymmetry, the difference in his dimples. She loved that one was so much bigger than the other. It would make for a really cool cubist imitation, like the sides of his face could be pronated in. And she was still staring at him, and Harry her.

She packed up quick then. He came to stand by her desk while Professor Victoria, long may she reign, shouldered her way into the same area. Victoria was giving them a suspicious glance. Jo didn't like that one bit. There was a student waiting on Professor Persuppins too, a male one. It pissed Jo off that her age, and she would admit, looks, or maybe Harry's, made this bitch immediately look for impropriety. There had been none. Not for a year and he had been nowhere near her professionally then.

Jo looked up with a squished brow when Harry said "Professor Smith, our meeting?" and he looked like he was afraid of her. It's an act. "I'd really like to retake the test, please." He's laying it on thick, but bitchfessor looked impressed and Jo wondered how he knew that would work.

She played along, "I have office hours, and I need a real reason I should give you another chance, not just because you need me to, Mr. Styles. Everybody had the same opportunity and time to study." And Victoria nodded at her, and her mind was blown.

They got a safe distance down the hall and Jo looked at Harry and they both burst out laughing, startling the student sat outside another office waiting.

"Sorry!" Harry stage whispered, and gave her a boyish giggle as he opened the door to her office. She fell in and Harry closed the door behind her and pressed his wiggling nose into her back and the shift in mood was sudden like the earth had tilted on its axis. For just a second, she stayed there and pressed back into his nose, and he coasted it up her spine. The shiver that he caused, and neither of them can pretend it didn't happen, because he was basically against her from ass to shoulder, and it's not chilly, was like biting into ice cream. Her teeth hurt. Jo breathed one breath and smelled her office smells, the old books and wood, and remembered her office, and the look on her colleagues face and her umbrage at Victoria's assumption. Jo took a step forward and put the desk between them.

To break them both out of it, and to remind herself of what just happened and how it can't happen again. "What was that? Didn't know you were also an actor." And she forced a giggle to glance over the fact that he just touched her and she let him, loved it.

"Oh," he let out a breath and pursed his lips. Jo saw a quick shake of his head, and he sat in the chair across from her and she copied him and tried not to shift around to much. Harry was fixing his skinny jeans, and she busied herself putting papers she had collected away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pull the crotch of his pants down.  Fuck. "Oh," He started again, "I had her my first semester, and I was totally a fuck up for the first couple weeks. I'd just discovered girls--"

"What do you mean, just discovered girls?" Ethan was well aware of girls for ages before university.

"What I said. Most of college, I was kinda confused, because like I noticed earlier, when all the boys started talking about girls, that I thought they were nice, like the nicest to look at, but I really liked a boy." He was looking at her dead in the eye. Like he was daring her to respond to him, but he was gripping the sides of his chair, so Jo knew he was afraid of it to. "But I wasn't the best student in Professor Persuppin's class, she doesn't seem to believe in second chances. Got the lowest grade I ever got in her class. Thought I'd just play on her perception of me." He still looked worried about Jo's perception of him now. She was still going over his revelation.

"Oh!" Jo thought and it escaped through her mouth too. "Oh!" She said again. His cheeks pinked up, and Jo reached across the desk for his hand. He pried it from where it lay and she got herself together to speak, while she took it. "Sorry, I was just putting two and two together to make four. That's why Ethan never had to stop bringing you round, cuz you weren't attracted to me." She boggled at that, all evidence to the contrary now.

"Well, I thought you were very pretty and the nicest, but when I really like someone, I, like, can't seem to see anybody else when I'm feeling that. And it's why I was so crazy first year, this whole new world of flavors and shapes had opened up, and I wasn't hung up on anybody anymore. I really liked it, sampled a lot. Did that most of that year until it was normal and not so revelatory and exciting. Dated but hadn't really been hugely attracted until," he looked at their joined hands. "But I'm still me, and when I find one person who is compelling, that's where my attention or whatever fixates." And he made long eye contact, and Jo heard what he wasn't saying clear as a bell.

"So you had a boyfriend?"

"Not really, He didn't like me the way I liked him. But it went on for me for ages. I was just finally over it when I got to uni, and I got a bit drunk during freshers and this gorgeous girl kissed me, and I, just really liked the feel of her in my hands." Jo slowly released his hand at that. Because they had wandered into dangerous territory and she needed a break. Also, the thought of his hands on anybody else made her feel like Tinkerbell, only able to feel one thing at a time, and this one matched the fairy's outfit. Harry turned his mouth down and made a face like the displeased one in class, without the anger.

"Oh!" Jo said again, like an idiot. "That's why you got mad in class, at Lara."

"Yeah, Lara!" he said with loathing. And Jo was sure that even it he thought she was the prettiest girl in class, in all of the school, he wouldn't go for her. "She's a prig, and maybe a little homophobic. Saw that enough in college! At first, it was confusing for me. It seemed totally normal to me, to be attracted to boys, and then I realized I was the odd man out and that I was supposed to hide it. And I'm horrible at hiding things, especially my feeling. I have a glass face. I wanted to tell everybody, especially when the attraction seemed returned, but you can't do that around most people and it fucked everything up.... It's why," and he shut himself like a door slam. "Anyway, I can't stand it. The idiocy just makes me crazy, and I am around it less so have no tolerance. And how do you get to third year of an art degree with such a tiny mind? Arts always attract the outsiders and especially lgbt folk." He looked genuinely offended and curious.

But Jo knew enough about not being what people expected and narrow minds in every place from her own life to no longer be surprised, "I dunno, she seemed to be opening up at the end. Martha's explanation of automatic art was really good, and Lara seemed to be on board, at least with Expressionism. And she bought into pop art thanks to Gaga." And Jo is laughing at his face.

"That is supposed to be the other way around!" Harry looked offended.

"Oi, now you are a being a snob!" She was laughing in earnest now.

"Me a snob!" He gave her chicken neck, "And did you just Oi me, Jo?"

"I did, I definitely did!" She was giggling into her hand and he was grinning and his hand was still on the desk and he reached for her fingers and pulled them from her mouth.

"Why do you do that? Cover your mouth when you really laugh." His face was like a child looking at a magician's handkerchief, trying to see the secret.

Why did she do that? Her mother telling her that she laughed like a donkey brayed stuck out, and a comment Ethan's dad had made about her teeth. But she said, "I dunno. Habit really."

"You shouldn't! I remember that was the first thing that made me love your house, the way you and Ethan laughed together. Always thought he had such a fun laugh. I realized, like last year, it was yours. Shouldn't cover your joy."

Her heart was pounding. It felt like he hadn't blinked while he complimented what she perceived as a flaw. Jo was certain she hadn't blinked. She knew that she had crossed from attraction to infatuation, but was digging in her heels like a horse at a cliff side to stop from going farther. She had been discovering more and more between them, shared interest, and likes, and influences, and it was getting harder and harder to hold her horses.

The subject needed to be changed. "What did you need to meet with me about?"

"Oh, I wanted to set up for you to come see what happened with my amber lady in grains. And I started something new and she's in it too. That one, I may be able to manage to come in with. But it would be great if you could come see them." He looked really hopeful.

She was gonna dash those against those cliff side rocks to avoid going over. "I really can't, not for a long time, we have department meetings and a function before finals."

"Oh," his face popped like a helium balloon. "One is a final. You sure you can't give it a look?"

Jo could not go to his studio, full stop. "Not till after finals Harry, sorry! Can you send me pictures?"

"Yeah, but I don't think the flesh in the new one will translate." He was pulling on his bottom lip worriedly.

"I can try to imagine." Jo was absolutely not going back to the red room to discuss flesh. Talk about no trespassing. That was a big huge glowing danger sign.

"Alright." He gave in, his hopes deflated. Harry stood and Jo followed him to let him out. He closed the door when she opened it, not hard but definitively.

"Har-" She started then switched to "H!" Jo did not want to have to rebuff him. She didn't want to rebuff him.

"No." He said, "I need to say this!" And he hugged her tightly with affection instead of passion, "Thank you! For not freaking out."

"Oh!" Jo said dully again. Her vocabulary elluding her. "Well, if you are amazed that Lara has gotten this far into a art degree and can be a homophobe, how do you think I could get a professorship?" Because she was old, way older than him, she reminded herself, wrote it on the inside of her forehead.

"I knew I could trust you, it's just always scary. You made it not scary." He looked like he wanted to do something, his hand came up and hung in the air like a spider's web. Jo was definitely caught. But instead, he smoothed her hair behind her ear and gave her an open grin before leaving. She closed the door behind him and leaned against it with her head pointed up and eyes closed.

Jo was sorry that she wasn't able to go home and put Zoe to bed so she could paint his smile, those asymmetrical perfect dimples. Instead, she called Audrey and checked in, getting herself together for her department meetings, and talk3: as much as you could on the phone to a three year old before bed. Thank god for video chat, or she would not hold that firecrackers attention long enough to say goodnight.

When Jo came out of her department meeting actually smiling, Victoria was way nicer to her, even called her by her name instead of professor. She hated that is was because Harry laid himself out like Isaac on the altar, but she was thankful to him.

Speaking of him, when she looked at her phone, she had loads of texts from him and a desperate message to please come to the studio. Harry was frenzied like the last time she daydreamed about him filling his mouth with her quim. Jo knew she should not go, that that room and his creativity was her very own hamartia. But she pointed her car there anyway. Rationalizing as she drove, she was his advisor. It was her job, her job where she had earned more respect. She was a professional.

When Harry answered the door, his eyes glowed so bright they were nearly teal, they were definitely a turquoise, and he was in jeans with a blue and red plaid with only one button done. Jo was feeling less professional. He didn't greet her, but turned as soon as the door was open knowing she would follow. He might as well have been playing a flute for all she was able to turn away, and she slithered after him.

The backbeat was even her favorite Tori Amos song and she recalled him singing along long ago in her studio. When she had asked about his knowledge of Lilith Fair rock, he had shrugged and said his mum liked it at one point and he had continued to like it much longer. It seemed an odd interest for a 17 year old boy at the time. But now it just seemed like another thing they had in common.

Like the other day when he had gone off in office hours about his frustration with figure drawing. "My favorite artist is Frida Kahlo, and it makes me crazy, because if I can't paint anybody, I'll never be able to draw myself. Ya know, like, I love landscapes and what they can say, evoke, but people are where you can really explore emotion. And yourself. If I can't draw myself, do I know myself?"

Jo almost swallowed her tongue. She went through an entire phase in art school, a lingering obsession with Frida and her own frustration with not being able to really draw herself. She could only draw the 'her' her parents wanted and the one that Ethan's dad wished for. Now, she painted women, but couldn't find their faces. She'd never connected the two until that moment.

At the time, because she was already trying to untie all the threads knotting themselves between them whenever they talked, she had simply said, "I love Frida too. She's probably my favorite. 20th century anyway." Of all time, in truth, but Jo didn't reveal that, couldn't present him another string to connect knot.

He'd smiled and kept talking about their fave and she stayed enraptured. Like she was now.

"She's part of the landscape, but not, like she is rising from it, and I just love the way the skin looks, Jo!" No title. "It looks real, and like its moving so it has emotion. I feel like I've found something. Something that is mine. I just need you to tell me though if it isn't good. If I'm just in a frenzy. Ok, Ok?"

He looked back at her then, but her eyes had just found the new one. She had looked at his defined woman in Amber and was impressed by how she turned out.

But then she saw the other one, and Jo was rising from the plain too. Jo was levitating. It was so good. She could see all the emotion and movement of life in the painting.

That wasn't what had her off the ground, not just his growth. The woman, her body, it looked just like Jo's, the body Harry had never seen. It was there. The strands of the earth she came out of even looked like the stretch marks on her lower belly. And the jut of her breast, she saw them daily in the shower, covered them when she crossed the mirrored wall in the bathroom. But her reflection in the painting, through Harry's imagination, did not cover herself, she had no reason to. It was the most beautiful thing Jo had ever seen.

"Har-Harry!" She got out. And he froze. She knew what she was saying. And he knew too. Harry looked up to be sure she meant it.

He crossed the room like a barrelling patrol car at a clear green light and wrapped his huge hands around her face, cupping her ears and kissed her. There was no hesitation. No sweet lip lock to test out the waters. They were boiling, and they both plunged in.

His mouth slanted right immediately and she fit him in counterpoint and opened her mouth to his tongue when it slid in against hers. The lick, tangle, and taste of him, of the hazelnut coffee he had been drinking, was a jolt of caffeine to her veins. Her skin was alight, like it was in the painting. Like she was on canvas. She thought he set her skin to dancing with his eyes and the smile on his mouth, but it was nothing compared to his kiss.

Jo kept going, pressed her pedal to the floor and him to the wall behind them. She was kissing the hell out of him and her hands were inside his plaid, her fingers trailing his chest. Her nails found his nipples and she scratched him. She'd never done that before.

Harry moaned and shifted, it brought his leg forward a bit, and Jo pressed her mons to his thigh. He flexed in response and Jo gasped. Harry pulled back and was about to reverse them when a canvas fell like hollowed skin to the floor. That stopped Jo, because they needed to be careful with his creations.  It was just a blank one, could be wiped clean. She looked up at his blown pupils and his wide open shirt, and the red lines from her nails. Jesus, had she caused all that?

"Professor?" Harry said and it was a dunk in a glacial pool. Jo turned and was just about to run for the door but she had to tell him one thing. He needed to know. Had to know.

She couldn't look at him, over her shoulder, with as much force as she could, she said. "They're good Harry. NO! They are fucking great!" and she made her escape.

[kaitkerrigan]

RUN AWAY WITH ME : Texas, Alabama, Mississippi, California

It’s daunting to dive into a song that everyone knows. The “hit”. Will the song survive explication? Will explaining it will make it less good? I channel my inner fangirl, pretend I’m not myself (the person who ran through all of the various options of how the lyrics could play out, who knows all the other forks in the road of the lyric), and I realize the answer is “no”. So as the creator, I take a deep breath and say, ok, my tumbleweeds, you asked for it. 

Literally. I conducted a super formal poll this week on Twitter and over 200 people voted and 40% wanted to know more about “Run Away with Me”. Trust me, i was with the “Last Week’s Alcohol” camp. LWAers, I’m coming for you. 

I think the reason I feel hesitant about this song is because I feel like I’ve said all of it before. I’ve taught it in master classes. I’ve written countless emails to college seniors who have decided to use it for senior showcases. I’ve watched videos of senior showcase mashups like this pairing with “Prelude to an Angry Young Man” by Billy Joel to showcase a young man’s dancing abilities. 

“Run Away with Me” has been around the block. It’s had its fair share of interpretations. What could I possibly say that you don’t already know? 

ORIGIN

“Run Away with Me” was a song without a hook when it first appeared. I remember Brian playing a truly relentless melody on my aunt’s piano. The scansion was something like this: 

"Let me be your ride, let me be your home,  Let me be your favorite place We can make a life, we can find a road, we can drive like life is a race.  Texas in a car, Kansas on a bus,  long as it’s highway and us.  Throw away the key.   Run away with me.  

I found it exhausting - this relentless energy of someone who is determined to connect. It was catchy as hell but busy and unappealing when you put words on it. I put together some dummy lyrics (we learned about those in “Say the Word”) to prove that the music didn’t work as well with lyrics on it. (These are not those lyrics. I mocked these up from memory. The rhythm really was very catchy.)

Brian cleared it out. He asked if a version that went like this:

“DA da DA da DA da da DA”

felt any better. It did. And that’s how we found the scansion that ultimately became, 

“Let me be your ride out of town.  Let me be the place that you hide.” 

It did feel better. It felt doable. I didn’t have the same instinct that I had towards “Say the Word”. I didn’t hear the music and cry. But Brian knew that he’d hit something sticky and he was determined to find where this song fit in the show. He was determined it was for Adam. He thought it came late in the show - an 11 o’clock number. He knew nothing else. 

When we found the phrase “Run away with me” the song clicked in for me. I don’t remember a lot about the process of coming up with the hook but I remember a lot about writing the lyrics. 

I discovered Adam’s voice in writing this song, but it also felt like it already existed. There was something I always knew and loved about Adam. It was borne of watching boys in college who were in love with my supremely complicated and high strung female friends. It’s not to say they weren’t smart - some of them were very smart - but they weren’t molded the way my female friends were. I was surrounded by women who had chosen, at 18, to go to an all-women’s college. That requires a certain kind of cognition about the world around you. Many of these women dated men but were loud, proud feminists. They were grappling with their relationship with romance, with being “swept off your feet”, with the uneasy comfort of feeling protected by a boy who can’t protect you because you are too smart to believe that such protection exists.  

Writing Adam, and this song in particular, was an act of grieving for the kind of girl I would never be. I would never fall for easy romance like the kind a sweet boy like Adam would offer me. 

WHEN IN DOUBT, TAKE A SHOWER

I hit my first real flight of inspiration - a visit from Elizabeth Gilbert’s “genius” (if you haven’t watched her TED Talk, do) - as a lyricist in this song. You can also call it getting lucky. 

This song is the reason I believe in taking showers when you’re stuck. It’s a more concentrated formula of my general antidote for “writer’s block”, which is something I refuse to acknowledge. Acknowledging writer’s block is a self-fulfilling prophesy. Its existence is in your mind to begin with, so your conjuring of it confirms its existence. My mom calls it “gathering periods”. Everyone has times when they need take in culture, writing, inspiration. You can’t ONLY write. You won’t have anything to write about. Sometimes you have to breathe and take in other people’s creative output. 

That said, deadlines are deadlines and you’ve got to get your work done. Rather than say, “I’m spent / I’ll never write again”, you say, “I need a shower.” Or I need to vacuum. Or I need to go for a run (I should say this - I never say this). I had spent the morning chipping away at the chorus and the second verse of this song, when I stopped to take a shower. While I was washing my hair, I came up with the entire bridge - lyric and music and rhythm and everything. It appeared to me like a glorious all-inclusive vacation to Hawaii. 

I wrote it down, dripping water on my bedroom floor.  Sometimes you get lucky. 

TECHNICAL STUFF

Above is a little cheat sheet. If you ever want to sing this song and you don’t want to screw up the words, I suggest you look at it. Musical Theater singers don’t always think about song structure and that’s a shame. It’s a tool in your tool belt (like learning to read music - or at minimum learn how to fake it - I’ll save that soapbox for another day). Without understanding structure, you’re stuck memorizing a song from start to finish and you’re bound to screw it up. With song structure, you can look at the way it’s built and say, OH, look at the sections that are the same. Look at the ones that are different.

Most importantly, if you ever have to sing this song and you have a music stand - THIS IS TRUE WHETHER OR NOT YOU HAVE THE MUSIC IN FRONT OF YOU - write down on a piece of paper in massive letters: 

TEXAS ALABAMA MISSISSIPPI CALIFORNIA 

I cannot tell you the number of top-rate performers I’ve given this advice to. The ones who do it, never go up on lyrics. The ones who don’t ALWAYS DO. Trust me. It’s the least I can offer after not giving you a single bit of help in the lyric itself. It’s not alphabetical or even east-to-west. (My personal way of remembering is that Texas and California are easy to remember and the middle two are in alphabetical order. I’ll give a prize to someone who comes up with a good pneumonic - (Tell Adam M[?] C[?]??). It is just the worst. Don’t be proud. Be smart. WRITE IT DOWN. 

It’s not entirely my fault. In my first draft, the lyrics to each chorus were the same. You can thank Joe Church, Brian’s composition teacher (and my de facto composition teacher while Brian was at NYU), for the devilishly hard lyrics in the choruses. He pointed out (and I do think he was right) that the character needed to keep upping his ante over the course of the song. I think it’s one of the song’s great charms.  

I went back and looked at the chorus again and it’s a weird one. It’s not like looking at baby pictures. I’m not embarrassed by this song but could I make the decisions I made back then if I were writing lyrics for this now? Look at this crazy rhyme scheme! 

By “crazy rhyme scheme”, I mean almost-no-rhyme scheme; I mean barest possible minimum rhyme scheme. Please give me the pleasure of enumerating the rhymes for you: 

Kerouac / back and key / me. 

FIN.

How is that ok?? Why does that work?? I’ll tell you. It’s two-fold. 1. character. 2. proximity. 

1. Character 

Here I go again. Broken record. Write in character. 

Adam works in his dad’s tire shop. He’s not literary. He’s not “smart”. This doesn’t mean he’s an idiot. Emotionally, he’s swimming in the depths. He’s empathetic. He’s kind. He’s generous. He’s really just about everything a person could ask for but he’s not a brainiac. 

If you had the unabashed pleasure of seeing Jay Armstrong Johnson perform Adam in The Mad Ones, you know what a breath of fresh air Adam is. He has a beautiful soul, but he’s the butt of jokes. Sam loves him but she doesn’t take him particularly seriously. When he says “I’m not good with words”, it’s important that you believe him. He’s not. But he’s trying. He’s trying to meet her where she lives. He’s using her references. He’s speaking her language. He’s a foreigner in a foreign land. 

Making him a “rhymer” would be all kinds of wrong. He’s not witty. He tries to be. He says things like “Texas in the summer is cool”, which a Tumblr fan from Texas pointed out is just not true. But Adam’s nervous. He’s trying. He’s saying things that are lame. He can’t say “Texas in the summer is cool” four times over the course of the song, because he realizes that it’s not true as soon as it comes out of his mouth. It was a dumb joke. He has to try new tactics. His tactics aren’t working. 

In his perfect world, he would have sung “run away with me” once, and Sam would have said, “Ok” and they’d go. In a perfect world, he wouldn’t have to say anything. He would fix her flat tire. He would work hard to make her comfortable. But he’s living in the planet of Sam’s grief. Her empathy is turned off. She hadn’t thought of Adam and what he wanted or needed or how he was trying to connect to her in a long time. She’s whirling in the new information that he would be change what he wants (stability, to run his dad’s business) for her. She doesn’t know how to respond and so he’s left floundering in a sea of his own words. 

2. Proximity

Hot tip. If you want to make it ok that you’re not rhyming a lot, rhyme close together. I am getting so much mileage out of “Jack Kerouac, looking back”. After five lines of no rhyme, you get two rhymes 3 syllables apart. Internal rhymes make up for writing a character who isn’t clever. It allows the writer to still exert some control over the lyric, some order in the face of a character’s chaos. In terms of character, it gives a sense of someone gaining momentum. Adam’s finally gaining traction. After five statements that go nowhere - 

“Let me be your ride out of town. [new thought] Let me be the place that you hide. [new thought] We can make our lives on the go. [new thought] Run away with me. [new thought] Texas in the summer is cool. [ new thought] We’ll be on the road like Jack Kerouac looking back, Sam, you’re ready, let’s go anywhere. [building on that thought] Get the car packed and throw me the key. Run away with me.” 

The first rhyme (Kerouac / back) is an indicator that he’s heading somewhere. He’s finding some textual rhythm. By the end of the chorus, he’s managed to put together a bit of a thesis - a little serve and return (key / me). 

It gives him the courage to go on in spite of Sam’s silence. The whole song is about Sam’s silence. It’s about him getting so caught up in it in spite of her lack of response, trying to build a vision for what they could have together. You’ve been there, right? Those moments where it feels like if you just keep talking, you won’t have to face the possibility that you won’t be met halfway? 

Time and time again, I read comments on YouTube and elsewhere: “I wish my name was Sam. I’d run away with you.” It’s essential that Adam’s desire for Sam is genuine and romantic and that his enthusiasm is infectious. You have to want her to want to go. But in the context of the show, you have to know that it will never work. She will never be able to say yes to him. She doesn’t know that before the song begins but by the time it ends, his fate is sealed. This isn’t actually a song about romance. Not for Sam. For Sam, who we’ve spent the last 75 minutes examining, this moment is filled with dread. You’re watching someone you love say all the things that make it impossible for you to be together. 

I remember - after writing this song - having dinner with a guy I was dating. He wanted to take our relationship to the next stage and I met a simple question he asked me with silence and panic. He said “I just wanted you to say that we’d work out any of the problems.” I didn’t realize until he said it that I was creating hurdles for our relationship because I didn’t want to stay in the relationship but I also didn’t have the heart to tell him that I wasn’t thinking about forever. I was looking for my exit strategy. Just because you’re not right for each other doesn’t mean that you want to hurt the other person. 

Of course the irony is that that’s exactly how you hurt someone. Sam is a classic introvert. She keeps everything to herself. She processes in her head (that’s the whole show). The sequel to The Mad Ones would be a whole hell of a lot of uncomfortable silence-filled conversations with the ones she leaves behind. 

“ROMEO IS CALLING FOR JULIET”: A NAIL IN A COFFIN

You’re Adam. You’re not a brainiac. You say “Romeo is calling for Juliet” and you mean that you love her. You mean that she’s your soulmate. 

Now you’re Sam. You’re analytical and literal and literary. You hear “Romeo is calling for Juliet”. You hear that you’re star-crossed, that you’re doomed. 

Adam doesn’t know that when he says it but he feels the failure of his metaphor. All of his metaphors build a case against him. He talks about On the Road because Sam loves that book, because she romanticizes driving across the country, much like Sal does in On the Road. But Sal’s journey is solitary and obsessed not with Mary Lou (or any of the other women Sal sleeps with) but with Dean, his best friend. Sam is the same way. 

INGENUE

I think a lot about ingenues in the musicals I write. How could I not? It’s a huge trope in musical theater, more in than in any other genre. There are even vocal registers that feel more “ingenue”. I grew up in high school, college, and community theater playing ingenues. I was the daughter, the wife, the literal ingenue in City of Angels. 

I also identified with ingenues in movies. I liked them plucky but I always wanted them to get the guy - or, let’s be honest - I wanted the guy to get them. 

Now, I only write ingenues when I can turn the idea on its head. Sam is not an ingenue. The story begins when her naïveté has been lost. If we told this story from the perspective from the beginning of her senior year, she would be the ingenue, but we tell the story from her moment before her rebellion. We are chronicling her journey away from ingenue. 

Brian and I joked through the rehearsal process that our ingenue is actually Adam. But by definition #2, it’s pretty accurate. Ingenues are often only in the love plot of a musical. They generally have one great song in a show but someone else (a man traditionally) gets to be involved in the multi-plot of a show. Harold Hill pursues Marion, whose role is contained to her utility to his plot - his moral opposite, but Harold is involved in SEVERAL plots. Sarah has her dogmatic beliefs (also a moral opposite to Sky) but it’s Sky Masterson who transforms through his relationship with her and his connection to the gambling plot. Rosemary literally sings about how she will be happy to keep her husband’s dinner warm, while Finch climbs the ladder to success and falls in love in the most perfunctory way possible. (These are all shows that are structurally genius pieces of theater, by the way, they just suck when it comes feminine stereotypes.)

Adam is really happy with their static relationship. He doesn’t actually want anything else. He makes a big sacrifice by trying to imagine what Sam wants, and in order to pull her out of her grief, tries to give it to her. It’s an act of sacrifice and empathy. And he’s right. She does need to run away. Just not with him. And it takes him naming the idea for her to realize exactly what she needs. 

Do you see what I love Adam? I wonder if men who wrote female ingenues felt the same way? You’re creating an idealized version of what the other sex should be so that your flawed (read: interesting) protagonist can grapple with the world around them. The exciting thing about creating this character was the attempt to manipulate the audience enough so that the audience would love him as much as I do but feel how deeply wrong it would be for Sam to say yes.  

Miscellaneous Questions You Have Asked

Can I (a guy) pretend Sam is a boy and sing this song? 

Why not? The “wife” line is a little weirder but I can justify it. There are a couple other pop versions of lyrics that are more generic that might be useful to you if you go that route.

Why are there pop lyrics to this song? 

We love this song and we wanted more people to be able to cover it. The use of “Sam” in the lyric feels essential in the show. It makes the lyric feel more insistent. Out of context, it feels a little theatery. I like theater - don’t get me wrong - but the rest of the song doesn’t feel that way so it kind of takes you out of the song if you’re not listening in the context of the show. I like the pop lyrics to the song. You should feel free to use them anytime. Though, in an audition, I’d revert to the original lyrics. Immediacy / theatricality / insistence are your friend there. 

Why does Adam say “let me be the place that you hide”?  I got this question specifically from someone when I was soliciting questions. It must have been on Twitter because I can’t find it on Tumblr. I hope that the rest of this post helps illuminate the character broadly enough that this already feels clearer. It’s a problematic idea, isn’t it? It comes back to Adam offering comfort, offering protection, offering something that Sam might want but is ultimately wrong for her. 

Can I record “Run Away with Me”? 

Yes. Because it’s already been professionally recorded by us, by Josh Young, by Aaron Tveit, and Dwayne Britton (maybe others?), anyone can get the mechanical rights to record through Harry Fox. Huzzah! 

Why are there so many versions of the final riffs and release of “Run Away with Me”? 

When you get the chance to workshop a song as long as we have, you get to really hone what you want out of it. If you’re in doubt about whether or not you’re singing the most updated version, check out Ben Fankhauser’s version on Playbill. This is the one we went into production with in fall 2017. 

Can a girl sing “Run Away with Me”? 

Hell yeah. Carrie Manolakos covers it on our live album and it’s pretty sick, and here’s a new video of Emma Hunton’s take on it. You didn’t know how much you wanted this.