#its one of my favorite things ever actually!! their rings are colored silver to contrast iruma’s gold^^

[bittasol]

Chapter 212: From the Masters (azz gets his off screen/in the volume extras)

Chapter 213: The Loveliest Momento

+ Volume 24 Extras

HOLD ON BOLD ON HOLD ON

MIGHT JUST BE ME BEING UNABLE TO REMEMBER CHARACTER DESIGN DETAILS BUT.

THE LOVE TRIO ALL HAVE A RING ON THE SAME FINGER ON THE SWME HAND???? WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN??

[littlemisslipbalm]

“You Get Me” Pt. 3 (famous!y/n x harry)

Aka “Kissy” 🥺

honestly its really just domestic harry bahaha and I added that they have a slight age gap ?but seriously I hope y’all enjoy the third and final installment of my first ever writings -  a little miniseries if you will. I loved writing this part sm, probably my favorite part yet. I linked a spotify playlist that was some inspo (I literally listened to your summer dream on repeat for one part that I wrote, that song is so beautiful) anyways - not really proofread and I tried to break it up more so it was less big chunks to read formatting wise

here’s part 3! read: part 1 | part 2

word count: 4.0k  | warnings: makeout sesh, shirtless harry!, nothing graphic tho (I think!)

tag list : @marauderswhisperer, @morgannope, @daddystevee, @kthemarsian, @bi-andready-tocry

playlist for the inspo✨

-

One Week Later

“Hey, Har...change of plans!” you exclaimed as you peaked through a door in Harry’s house.

You’d hung out together at your apartment once since your phone retrieval visit and the two of you had been texting constantly. You loved Harry’s company and Harry couldn’t get enough of you. Harry had called you late last night, ‘Want t’take you out tomorrow, love.’ his voice was groggy as if he was about to fall asleep. You’d instantly agreed and drove over to his house the next day. He was leaving back to London on Saturday, so it was your last day to see him for awhile.

Inside the door you had just opened, a beautiful vintage convertible sat. You had found the garage. “You are so driving this,” you turned to see the man who held your entire heart in his hands walking up beside you. Harry reluctantly agreed and leaned down to kiss your cheek.

“Ready?” he questioned, holding up the soft blanket he had retrieved for your coastal picnic. You nodded, proudly displaying the little picnic basket you had packed full with food. Simultaneously the two of you reach for each other’s free hands, clasping them together and walking out to the car.

“I’m on aux, you can focus on the road,” you told Harry when both of you went for the cassette device that functioned to allow you to play music from your phone despite the age of the car. Harry loved how assertive you were even if it meant he didn’t always get his way. That was one of the reasons he liked you so much, your strength, your ability to hold your own in any situation, even with him, opposite of how a lot of people treated him in the industry in bids to get in his good graces. You were his match, so similar, yet so unique.  

The pair of you started out on the road. Harry wore a white t-shirt with a blue bee slogan,  purple trousers, and some clean white vans. His rings and pearl necklace wrapped up the look. His tattooed arms starkly contrasting the crisp white of his shirt. His eyes on the road were covered by large sunglasses, but his hair flew out behind him as the wind rushed over the car. You had chosen high waisted mom jean style denim shorts and a lavender femme top with a mesh white floral overlay, it had ties on the shoulders and it complimented your skin color perfect, tanned in from your life in the golden state. You too had your rings on and a silver necklace with your first initial hidden in the pendant. Even your clothes complemented each other.  

The first song to play through the speakers was Joni Mitchell’s “California.” You looked over to see Harry smile and you two began to sing along. You didn’t talk much on the ride, staying silent other than singing along when you pleased, but you always made sure not to overpower the actual song, you didn’t like to do that if the music was there for ambiance. Harry would speak up a little when passing various things, just simply pointing them out. Then, after the first notes of “California Dreamin’” came on Harry couldn’t help buy say, “Y/N, seriously?  S’not like I don’t love these songs, but please tell me you didn’t just search up ‘California’ and are playing tha’?” All you did was shush him and tell him this was one of your favorite songs before singing along.

Then, as the Mamas and the Papas voices began to fade out, Harry started again, “This next song’s title better not be fuckin’ California or somethin’ with-” but he stopped as the light quick notes of “Golden” came through the speakers, followed by his own voice. You grinned and gave his shoulder a little push. You had just gotten on the PCH and you remembered his mention of it being the quintessential coastal drive song a couple years ago so you had queued just in time.

A grin spreads onto his features that had been in slight exasperation at your antics previously and shakes his head at you, does a little finger shake vaguely in your direction, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.”

You both burst out in song, practically yelling the first chorus, Harry taking little harmony parts that most wouldn’t even notice, but he notices them, he made them. You dance in your seat to the song, taking control of the background ‘da da da’s. Harry is in awe of how well your voice sounds with the track, when you sing along to the second verse, much more seriously than the first one you had screamed together. He glanced over at your moving figure that began to sway at the slowing of the song. You weren’t wearing sun glasses and you had your eyes closed, basking in the shining sun. You looked at peace, yet completely fulfilled and overjoyed. In that moment, Harry knew he wanted to keep making you feel the way you did right now every time you were together. The song ended and your playlist continued, random songs regarding California and the feeling you get with someone you care about - makes you feel sunkissed.

-

“You’re literally so corny,” Harry laughs to you when ‘California Girls’ by the Beach Boys came on. You throw side eyes at him, “What can I say, Brian Wilson knew, California girls are where it’s at,” you roll your lips into your mouth and then bite your bottom lip.

-

The drive continued with you giving a rousing rendition of ‘California Gurls’ with Harry as Katy Perry and you as Snoop Dogg as you had insisted. Harry even busted out some minimal dance moves while driving the car, honking the horn at the appropriate moment. You made Harry feel like he was 19 again.

Then, straight into ‘Canyon Moon,’ Harry really was in disbelief of the woman next to him. You got so into the “I’m goin’ home” part of the song. Harry said, “Really like tha’ one, I gather,” after it finished. It was your turn to look at him in disbelief, “It’s my favorite, Har, I remember listening to Fine Line the first time and loving it immediately. Still loved it even after everyone else barely talked about it. Deserved so much more, s’amazing.” You finished with a half smile slipping onto your face. Harry gave a quiet ‘thanks’ and returned the smile.

-

Harry was finally satisfied with where you had landed along the coast. There had been no set destination, just a plan to drive to a lookout for the picnic. Finding a small parking area, you two gathered your items and set out for the perfect spot. The California coast really is beautiful. You’d lived there your whole life, just further up north, moving down to Los Angeles when you started your music career. You ran ahead of Harry to seek out a little bluff you’d seen in the distance. “Oi!” Harry called, but didn’t run to catch up, he had taken the picnic basket and it had drinks that wouldn’t be great if they were all shaken up.

You were right, it was the perfect spot, a little ways up from the set path there was a flat surface on the edge of a cliff, it was safe, with wildflowers and tall grass around a more bare area. You layed out the large blanket, then stood and watched as Harry made his way to you. His hair was every which way due to the wind whipping through it during the car ride, you subconsciously ran your hands through your hair for that reason. He looks gorgeous, you thought.

When he arrived at your little patch, he sat down the basket and you threw your arms around his neck. You pulled yourself into him and basked in his glow, his warmth and scent. He held you and ran a hand through your hair. The pair of you could have silly fun, but you could also be extremely intimate. In these quiet moments you wished you could stop time and live here forever. To live in his arms would be a wonderful thing. “So happy right now, darling,” Harry whispered, the soft swish of grass and the distant crash of waves the only sounds he had to speak above. You said nothing, but pushed yourself even further into his body, a response in and of itself. In this moment, there was no one else, just you, Harry, and the beautiful nature you stood in. This moment was everything. And you didn’t want to set it free.

Eventually, the two of you parted and relaxed into the blanket. For once, neither of you played music, you talked and ate and listened to the ambient sounds of nature. The melodic waves carried the conversation, when neither of you felt the need to say words. After eating, you let Harry pop the bottle of champagne he had brought along, unbeknownst to you, nevertheless when you saw it you wanted to be the one to uncork it. Still, your protests fell on deaf ears. “Y’seem to be getting very used to getting everythin’ you want, huh? Already a spoiled princess after a couple months of fame,” Harry teased as he worked to open the bottle. You huffed at his teasing and your failed attempt to get the bottle from him, which had caused him to move off the blanket and have his shirt be stretched from you grabbing at the bottle and only getting fabric.

“Whatever, don’t act like you’re not a total diva sometimes, Styles.” You couldn’t deny that him calling you a ‘spoiled princess’ made you feel things, unholy things. Of course you found Harry unbelievably attractive, but this was your fourth time being with Harry and the two of you hadn’t done anything besides heavy makeout sessions. You loved the way he said your name, but you also loved his nicknames for you, but this was a new one that seemed to hold some meaning within it.

Harry liked to see you all worked up, but knew he could get the exact same way, upset when things don’t turn out the way you want them. Frustrating. Finally, he popped the cork and you both cheered for the golden bubbly liquid. You had spent almost about an hour on the road and an hour or two already on the cliff, so the sun was starting to make its farewells to this side of the earth. The sky was beginning to light up with pinks, oranges, and lavenders. You both sat back down on the blanket, this time with you sat up inside of Harry’s spread legs, reclining back onto his chest.

You continued to talk, about the view before you for a little, but then each other. Whenever you were together, the two of you gravitated to the topic of enjoying the other so much. Today was apparently Harry’s turn to share. “When we were in tha car, earlier,” he started as you twiddled your fingers on his thigh, drawing shapes. You looked up into his eyes to encourage him to continue. “Haven’t had tha’ much fun in awhile. You…” he hesitated again and averted his eyes from your stare. You whispered a little ‘yeah’. You really cared about Harry feeling comfortable with you and making him happy, so you knew encouragement was helpful when he was trying to gather his thoughts. “Y’make me feel young...tha’ sounds so dumb, but y’really do,” he finally got out as put his hand over your moving one on his thigh. The two of you didn’t talk about the fact that Harry was a bit older than you. He was famous when you were a puberty-stricken teenager. The age gap wasn’t really an issue, you were both adults, but his statement reminded you that he would be 30 soon and you were still in your early 20s.

You twisted around to sit on your knees and face Harry. You placed both of your hands on his face, cradling his jaw and cheeks on each side of his face. This forced him to look you right in the eyes. You appreciated the beauty of his piercing green eyes for a moment and then went to kiss his crows feet on the sides of his eyes, his forehead lines, his hairline, his five o’clock shadow, and his smile lines, that had cropped up as he giggled at you. You were making exaggerated kiss noises as you loved on his face. “First of all, you are young,” you finally said in audible words. You waited a beat, then you kissed his soft lips that were smiling up at you. He was still smiling when you kissed him so your lips hit a bit of a tooth and you both giggled. But, you stood strong, not pulling away to laugh. Harry kissed you back. He shifted and brought his hands up from the ground where they had been holding him up to cradle your body instead. The kiss stayed chaste, despite Harry’s protests when you pulled back.

“And second, you make me feel alive.” “Alive…” Harry echoed you slowly, “Tha’s a better way to put it. I am young,” He smirked and then winked at you. You moved your hands to sit on his upper chest and could feel his heart beating soft, but strong beneath his skin. You grabbed his arm and moved it from around you. Harry quirked a brow at you. Then you placed his hand above your left breast and below your collarbone. Now he could feel your heartbeat, too. Yours, you thought, was beating a bit faster than his, but you didn’t care. Touching like this, made you feel close to him. Like you could see inside each other.  

-

You finished off the bottle of champagne because Harry had to stop drinking to be able to drive the two of you home safely. You felt very warm from it, despite the sun setting a while ago and your bare arms and legs. Luckily, besides the slight buzz you had, it was summer in California, and the nights stayed relatively warm. You skipped to the car and bent over the convertible to put the picnic basket in the backseat. Harry was right behind you and gave your bum a light pat, you pulled yourself up and flipped around, giggling. You tugged Harry in by his shirt and demanded, “Kissy.” Harry snorted and obliged, but with an open mouthed kiss where his tongue basically slobbered over your lips, mouth, and a bit of your nose. You whined, “You’re fucking disgusting, Har.” “Ya’ love it,” he responded with a faux posh voice before giving you a quick peck to your lips and rounded the car, telling you to get in and buckle up.

The whole ride home, Harry had his hand on your thigh. With it there, you occupied yourself with twisting his rings and and dancing your hand around his fingertips. The champagne had made you quiet, but smiley. The music you played was softer on the ride back home, you knew Harry needed to focus with the dark road and you didn’t want the music to distract him.

One song that was of note was “Lavendar (Take 4)” by the Beach Boys. The recording is somewhat unpleasant, but the song is beautiful. It had reminded you of the clothes you and Harry had worn on your date, the wildflowers that had just surrounded you, and the color of the sky when the sun had set on the scene of you and Harry tenderly kissing each other. The Beach Boys are known for their California, Surf pop sounds, but this sound is soft and filled with lushious harmonies, an ode to lavender, maybe a girl named lavender, but nonetheless it was for lavender. Harry harmonized along with their voices, returning to his original state. It ended and went straight into Simon & Garfunkel’s “America.” Paul Simon’s voice passed through the speakers and whispered to us sweetly. Harry again hummed in appreciation for the song choice.

-

When you arrived at the house, you helped Harry clean up the dishes and trash in the picnic basket. Then you sat on the couch, it was around ten o’clock and Harry had offered to make a pot of tea. You looked over the back of the couch as he moved around his kitchen. He padded around, putting the kettle on, opening cupboards for mugs and tea choices. When the water was ready, he got the tea ready, choosing a loose-leaf blend he’d found at a fancy restaurant in Amsterdam. “No cream tonight,” you called, still watching him work his way around his home.

Admiration shown in your eyes as he nodded and finished up the tea, bringing it over to you at the couch. He chose your mug tonight. Different from the previous two, his and yours were a matching set with dark blue interiors with tiny cartoon sailboats. You loved his collection of fun mugs, it fit him so well. After handing it to you, he snuggled in beside you and you took a sip, then rested your head on top of his strong shoulder. You turned your head to give a light kiss to his shoulder, and then moved back to staring ahead of you.  

“Wanna stay?” Harry asked, his arm around your body, holding you close to him. “Can just drive ‘ome in the mornin’,” he continued. “That’d be really nice,” you sighed. This was so comfortable, how was in possible to be like this with someone you’d known for a little over a week? It didn’t matter to either of you how quick it had happened. But it happened, and it felt right, so you went with it. This, what you and Harry had, made you happy so there couldn’t really be anything wrong with that.

-

You two chatted a bit more - about your week of tour preparations, Harry’s flight time tomorrow, various random thoughts, - and you drank your tea. At about midnight, Harry suggested that you and he get ready for bed and then watch something on his laptop. You agreed and ventured into an unknown part of his home. You’d started to snoop earlier today when you had found the garage, but had only gotten that far because you got distracted by Harry’s car.

His house was beautiful and perfectly him. It was big, but his decor and things made it specifically Harry, even if he didn’t live here full time anymore. You reached the master bedroom, located in the back of his house, with french doors, identical to those in the sitting room, opening out to the grass in his backyard. His bed. His bed. It was a California King with tasteful bedding and a beautiful wooden headboard and frame.

You ran and jumped onto it, the bed sinking beneath you and the bedding fluffing around you. You snuggled and rolled around in the sheets, “This is so much nicer than my bed in the apartment, it’s only a full…” you trailed off. Harry leaned against the doorway of the room, smiling to himself as he watched you make yourself at home among this life. “You’ll be gettin’ a new place, soon, I reckon?” Harry asked and went to grab you both some clothes to sleep in from his closet. “Yeah, maybe!” you called out to him in the little room connected to the master that housed his clothes.

When Harry returned, he was only in boxers, but was holding two large t-shirts, a pair of sweatpants, and another pair of boxers. “D’ya mind if I sleep like this? I can put more clothes on if that makes you more comfortable?”

You couldn’t keep your jaw from dropping. You’d seen Harry shirtless before, everyone had, but to see him right in front of you, that was something else.

He noticed you staring at his body and smirked, but then threw a shirt and the pair of boxers your way, “Stop bein’ such a perv, love,” he teased. “Rude,” you muttered, “Was simply admiring...but if you don’t want me to look, you can sleep fully clothed,” you scratched your nose and then shrugged your shoulders.

As you worked to slide off the big bed, Harry crossed the room and trapped you on the edge, leaning over you with both his hands landing on either side of you on the bed. You scrunch your eyes and nose up as he tries to make eye contact with you. He goes to kiss you, but you turn your head and your cheek receives a kiss. He stays against your cheek, drags out your name and groans, “s’teasin’ you.” “I know, baby,” you respond and kiss his cheek now. You duck under his arm and run into his en suite bathroom, shutting the door to change. When you re-emerge, Harry’s in the bed, with the sheets pulled back, and his computer in his lap.

Harry calls out to you without looking up from his screen, “S’was thinkin’, y’know, since you’re always saying your apartment is tiny, y’could house sit ‘ere while I’m away?” You tilt you head as you approach the bed as you ponder the idea. “I mean, I guess ‘why not’? It would be a longer commute into the studio, but this place is gorgeous, and I’m gonna start traveling a lot anyway so I won’t need my apartment for much longer…” You continue to think on it as you climb back onto Harry’s bed and snuggle yourself into his body. Harry looks slightly down at you by his side, he’s put on his glasses, “Think you should, I’d also like knowin’ someone was ‘ere, keepin’ things running while I’m away.”

You nodded and move slightly to rest your head on Harry’s naked chest. His sunkissed tattooed body is mesmerizing, you reach your hand up and start tracing the various designs and running your hand along his collarbones and veins as well. Then you flattened a palm and smoothed it over his right pectoral. Harry hummed and pushed himself further down the bed. “Can we not watch anything actually, m’kinda tired,” you whisper up to Harry, your voice the only sound in the house besides the light clicking of a clock in a different room. Harry responds by closing the laptop and readjusting your position in the bed. You and Harry are a tangle of legs and bodies pressed against one another. Everything is calm and Harry says one word, “Kissy.” And you smile and let yourself pull slightly away from Harry to lean up and kiss him one more time before the two of you fall asleep in each other’s arms. It’s soft and chaste, completely closed mouths, but you linger in the kiss, feeling his warm nose brushing besides yours. A hand moves up to his hair and gives it one good run through and then you pull away, “Kissy,” you finalize. The two of you giggle and snuggle even further together.

Your bodies fit so well together and again you were struck with the feeling that you never wanted this to end, even if tomorrow he was flying away, to somewhere halfway across the world. The distance didn’t matter. You knew the two of you had what it took to be there for each other, even if you couldn’t touch or feel the other. Even if laughter over the phone had to suffice for awhile. What the two of you had was greater than all of those obstacles of space and proximity. It was powerful because you were both powerful. Powerful in the way you loved, in the way you worked, in the way you simply were. You fell asleep in Harry’s arms that night filled with contentment. Harry fell asleep with you in his arms that night filled with joy that he’d found someone to share everything with. Someone who was willing to give him all of themselves. Someone who was finally able to get all of him.

-

love y’all sm 🤍🤍 hope you enjoyed and have a nice day

[spookyspaghettisundae]

What Was the Mountain, What Heralds the Calamity

Therapy had been tough in the months following the incident. Daily life had turned into a blur ever since.

Heidi stood in front of the mirror and only registered with delay what sound reached her ears. The hollow snap, a release of pressure around her waist, and the rattle of cheap imitation metal accompanying the flaccid flopping of a broken belt as it drooped from the loops on her pants.

Almost as if in a trance, it took her several moments to register that all the stress-eating and weight gain had caused her oldest and favorite belt to break. She held the buckle and studied how its prong had cleanly snapped in half because of material fatigue and the physical strain of her belly’s size increasing.

It was not like she really needed the belt anyway because her pants had gotten a bit too tight ever since she witnessed the murder-suicide at college. Heidi thought of Krissy for some reason.

Before long, she found herself in another haze: the distant droning radio hits looping the same one-hour track list of pop music in the background, while she explored the brightly lit maze of a cramped clothing store, shopping around for a new belt. She felt seen in an uncomfortable way and avoided eye contact with every single person that got even remotely near her.

Unless she needed to, she never went outside anymore.

Navigating the narrow aisles and beginning to feel nauseous from the cocktails of perfumed scents all tactically spread throughout the retail hellscape, she even tried to avoid physical closeness to any other of the shoppers.

This made it harder to get to wherever the hell the damned belts were in this store. Instead of locking eyes with other people, Heidi stared at a camera stuck overhead in a corner, observing how it slowly panned back and forth and a tiny red light on its blocky little body blinked rhythmically. Seeing her own tiny reflection in the camera lens made her feel uneasy, like she saw someone else in there.

Faceless mannequins wrapped in stylish garb loomed high above her everywhere, looking down on her like disapproving deities; divine idols of fashion that saw without eyes but judged her with cold and absolute cruelty.

The moment she heard familiar voices, she darted into an aisle she had no business in and kept her head down. With a sinking feeling, she wondered what she hated more: the bright and garish colors and neo-hippie designs of the articles that flanked her on both sides, or that she was so afraid of human contact that this was who she was now.

Alone and adrift in a sea of empty masks, engulfed in a suffocating fog of uncertainty and countless little fears.

“Do you think this’ll go better with my blue bolero jacket, or do the colors clash a bit too much? What do you think?” Krissy asked.

Heidi recognized her fellow college colleague’s voice through the white noise of store music, cash register beeps, and other voices softly blending. Somewhat sharp, regularly rising in tone as if to pose several questions before posing the actual question.

“I dunno, babe. You might wanna try the darker blue instead. You know, instead of such a radically different color?” Jacob asked back. Krissy’s boyfriend.

The aisles being what they were in this store, it was not like they offered ample opportunities to hide from prying eyes without ducking down in between them—the nature of such a temple of commerce lured everybody in to see its ample buffet of products, rendering its neon-colored reduced-price signs visible from every corner of the store.

Krissy clicked her tongue. Without even seeing her, Heidi could practically hear her shake her head for emphasis.

“Nah, because I’m really thinking of it going with my favorite jeans, and if it ends up all looking like different shades of blue, it kinda sucks,” Krissy said.

With little opportunity to hide without making herself look even more like a freak, Heidi kept her head down and did what she had been conditioning herself to do for months now: pretend like she did not exist and pray that nobody noticed.

Despite her best efforts, she gawked at Jacob’s face. His eyes stole a furtive glance at Heidi which made her stomach knot. Despite how clipped and short it was, and him focusing all his attention on Krissy, Heidi clearly glimpsed the flash of recognition in his eyes.

She wondered if he had stopped giving her adulterously flirtatious looks because of her bloated figure or because of the thousand-mile stare that haunted Heidi’s mien. The moment she sensed her thoughts drifting in that direction, she shook her head and chastised herself for thinking anything like that.

Heidi turned away and gained distance as quickly as she could without running, far away enough to not have to overhear those other two talking. She stifled a sigh of relief when she finally chanced upon a rack of belts in all sorts of shapes and sizes.

Taking less than a minute to scan the massive assortment, Heidi gazed upon one that really struck her fancy. Two big silver rings adorned the black leather belt and framed the buckle. It looked a bit pricey, but she was willing to pay extra if it was made of authentic metal and leather.

Disappointment followed when she realized it was a size too small.

In a seldom burst of defiance, she looked around. A store clerk was hovering nearby, busy sorting jackets by size on a ring-shaped stand.

Heidi dithered, owed to her mind going in circles and struggling to overcome the part of her that felt anxious in approaching and talking to a stranger. But the store employee was small and unassuming, which helped give Heidi that final push.

Instead of clearing her throat as she had envisioned to catch the girl’s attention, Heidi spoke up, “Uhm, excuse me?”

The shop assistant slowly turned and looked up at her. The nametag read “Jenn” and it only briefly distracted from vaguely disheveled hair and black rings of exhaustion under Jenn’s eyes.

“Hello,” Jenn said in a mousy little voice to match her appearance. “How can I help?”

Out of fear of breaking out in a cold sweat, Heidi embraced her newfound momentum and nodded. She held up the belt like a trophy and felt the blood rushing into her face as she spoke with much less vigor than she felt, “Do you have this in one size bigger?”

Jenn’s eyes went from belt to Heidi and back to the belt.

She said, “If there aren’t any out there, that's—”

The sentence died in Jenn’s mouth and she nodded. The faint semblance of a smile twitched around the corners of her lips, genuine and heartfelt.

“You know, I’ll check. We might have one,” she said. And with a sudden dash of melody to her voice, she added, “I’ll be right back!”

Jenn walked away with a bounce to her step.

Heidi hesitated, wondering if she should wait there or follow Jenn to wherever she was going. The thought that she could spare the girl the extra walk to get back to her drove Heidi to follow, several steps behind and struggling to keep pace. Jenn may have looked small and exhausted but hell, she was fast.

This brought them to a door bearing a label in big black letters emblazoned on its surface, reading:

EMPLOYEES ONLY

Keys jingled as Jenn pulled out a tangle of the little metal objects and unlocked the door. She stepped inside and paused, looking over her shoulder and noticing that Heidi had followed her. She gave her another smile, both feeble and warm.

“Please wait here, I’ll find it in no time. Or maybe not find it. Uhm, I hope I find it? Uh, you know what I mean,” she babbled at Heidi.

She radiated a disarming energy. It melted away the icy barrier of Heidi’s many fears. Seconds later, Heidi found it hard to believe that she had felt the pull of facial muscles she had not flexed in a while—she had returned a smile of her own at Jenn.

The girl disappeared into the eerie twilight of whatever storage lay beyond the threshold. Jenn had left the door ajar, giving Heidi ample time to absorb hints of the secret world behind it.

Contrasting the warm eggshell color of the floors in the store area, the concrete grounds of the back area looked coarse and slate-colored, radiating something cold and unforgiving. Racks of naked steel beams held up all sorts of things wrapped in layers of plastic or piles of cardboard boxes.

Although a cool light emanated from fluorescent tubes above the storage space, the ceilings in there were higher than in the store and it felt like some of them were off. One of the lights even occasionally flickered, lending the otherworld that Jenn had stepped into an almost eerie air that reminded Heidi of a cheesy horror movie.

Seconds flowed into minutes as she waited. She resisted the temptation to look around, felt a stronger need not to make any eye contact anymore. The warmth of smiles exchanged between her and Jenn already felt like it was a million miles away.

Just before any impatience could bubble up to the surface, a loud sound crashed in the storage space. Something big and heavy must have fallen, with a loud sloshing on the hells of the impact.

Heidi’s heart raced. Thundered. She wanted to check. Worried that something had happened to Jenn.

But that icy barrier of fears had fully frozen back into a solid shell, causing her heartbeat to shoot through the roof. Paralyzed, she dreaded the idea of looking like an idiot by calling out for Jenn, only to find out that everything was fine. Or to trespass beyond that ominous threshold of the ajar door and get into any trouble.

The door said it was for employees only, after all.

Then she remembered how she once walked towards danger. Towards the sound of gunshots. Towards whimpering. Towards that horrid scene that had wrought all the therapy of recent months.

Instead of impatience, cold dread bubbled to the surface. She did not want to remember the words of the phone call that followed the murder-suicide she had witnessed.

And then, something else bubbled up. Fiery, and searing. It sliced through the icy shell with something she had forgotten.

Something that felt like hope.

All she had done was witness. But now, perhaps, she could make a difference.

The cold sweat erupted from her pores, after several of her steps taking her through that door, pushing through, looking around for Jenn.

Two forces clashed in the thunder of her beating heart. The fire of courage and the ice of her dread. The need to do the right thing, and the fear of consequences.

Something like claustrophobia began to bear down on her as she paced through the narrow corridors of the storage shelves. While the ceilings were high, so were the racks and piles of boxes all around. Heidi had left one maze and entered another.

“Jenn?” she said. Timid, at first. Assertive on repeat, as she called out again, “Jenn?”

Something metal scraped against the concrete floors, grinding. It also sounded wet.

The moment she turned around, the shadows around her grew. The darkness engulfed her, and a tower fell. A mountain fell upon her. It was too fast for her to react, too sudden to realize what even was happening. Just enough time to know that one of those long metal shelves bent and toppled and fell, and piles of boxes came crashing down upon her.

She instinctively flailed about with her arms to fight herself free from being buried alive under a mountain of boxes, but as her eyes fluttered, nothing was the same anymore. Nothing was as it should be.

Distant and incredible, but all real. All too real. Terribly real.

A stinging smell of salt hung heavy in the air. The taste of rust clung to her tongue in a bitter film. The gray floors had made way to a different color of gray, blending into mist all around, shrouding the dark silhouette of a mountain in the distance.

Heidi’s hands were different. Thinner, not pudgy anymore.

Her body, everything. Like she had lost all the excess weight, and then some. And dressed differently. Dried blood stained her leg, and she had a bright orange life jacket hugging her upper body.

Heidi was no longer Heidi. She was now Krissy.

The world swayed and ocean waves lapped at the edges of an inflatable rubber raft. Jacob slumped where he sat, his head hanging down so far that his hair concealed his face, and his head bobbed up and down as he sat across from her in the raft. Like he was unconscious. Or sleeping.

But Heidi—no, Krissy—knew he was not sleeping.

He was also not Jacob anymore, even if he looked like him.

Even if he now raised his head, looking up until their eyes met, and dread welled up inside of her, making her stomach knot and cutting off air as she held her breath.

He stared. His eyes carried a cutting cold that rivaled the sea’s air. Something other than Jacob peered through them, piercing the darkness between the stars, and wriggling its way forth, like a worm burrowing through the void, trying to emerge into the light, to break through the glint of Krissy’s own horrified visage reflected in those orbs of lifeless jelly.

Like someone watching through a screen, displaying a camera feed.

Krissy hoped Jenn was okay and wanted to wake up. To become Heidi again.

But this was no dream.

And that was not Jacob.

“Who are you?” she croaked. The question landed on wings of a dehydrated rasp.

Jacob’s limbs twitched as the entity tried to move, but they were all long twisted in ways that had caused bones to break and muscles to snap, leaving him stranded in the boat and immobilized. His body shuddered and wiggled for a moment, suggesting that he might have lurched forward. Or lunged at her.

“I am Sorrowglade, a Sheen of the Interlocking Oil Walls. You look thirsty. You should drink,” came the words from Jacob’s chapped lips.

Sorrowglade nodded Jacob’s head towards a bottle of water within Krissy’s reach.

It rolled back and forth, courtesy of the ocean rocking their raft. The water in the bottle sloshed around, out of tact, and a violet tint permeated it. For whatever reason, she knew poison had tainted the liquid.

Tears welled up in Krissy’s eyes. She had no hopes of finding Jacob. Either he was long dead or Sorrowglade had absorbed him. The worries about a belt in a clothing store or any anxieties welling up now lay far behind her, even though they had troubled her mind mere moments ago.

Her head weighed a ton and she felt sick. That metallic taste reached far down her throat and a pain in her jaw flared up. The plane’s crash into the ocean had miraculously done almost nothing to her.

“We are the shining light that gleams from the cracks between the walls,” said Sorrowglade, still borrowing Jacob’s vocal cords. His eyes still dead, but awake, and wary.

Studying her features with curiosity. Like a fascinated child.

The lifeboat drifted closer towards the mountain. Panic budded in Krissy’s body, starting as a tingling in her digits and spreading everywhere else until it erupted into a nauseating dizziness, making the world spin around her.

“We are here to guard you from the jovial pudding of the laughing coin kings,” continued Sorrowglade. “From the false promises of freedom. From the lies that the stone walkers cloaked in hairless shadow utter.”

Krissy’s stomach churned. She fought against the urge to throw up while her hands pawed at the paddle nearby, gripping it tightly as she stared at Sorrowglade, expecting Jacob’s broken body to suddenly defy its injuries and jump at her like a hungry beast.

But Sorrowglade only stared at her from the helpless body of her boyfriend.

“They will devour if you let them near,” he said. No—they—they said. Speaking in one voice, but many who spoke at once, “We, on the other hand, we offer salvation.”

Krissy could barely see through the unsteady blur of tears as she pried her gaze from Jacob’s body, and she paddled with all her might. Tried to gain distance from that growing, looming shadow of a mountain. A distance that shrank far too quickly.

“We are golden light that shines upon true ways.”

Krissy forced herself not to sob when she realized the raft spun around. She doubled her efforts to alternate sides as she paddled, harder, with crushing despair taking root in every fiber of her body already wracked with panic.

“We have traveled from far to find you, and we are the conclusion that all your roads lead to.”

Silently, inwardly, Krissy pleaded for something to happen, to rip her out of this and bring her back to where she was. To be Heidi again, to find Jenn in the store, and go home with a new belt. But she was Krissy now, and her world had gone to hell.

“When you close your eyes, you taste us. When you taste the grit of dirt crunching between your teeth, you hear our arrival.”

Krissy paddled, and paddled, and paddled. Looking over her shoulder only turned her dizziness into something worse. The mountain grew larger by the second. Looming behind Jacob like a sinister and shadowy patron. Like the ocean waters carried the raft there no matter how hard she tried.

The metallic taste made way to something far more bitter and caustic and before she knew it, she retched and heaved as she vomited off the side of the boat. Chunks of lunch had gotten stuck in her hair and her mouth burned.

“Lay down your ten thousand nightmares. Abandon all the pain and the guilt,” Sorrowglade said in the same dull monotone, a mockery of Jacob’s pleasant voice as it delivered all these strange words.

Everything he said kept riding on the tone of an invitation. But all she could hear were secret threats.

At least the dizziness waned a little bit. And although her arms wobbled, she found new strength and paddled with all her might.

Doom emanated from that mountain. Slithering in between the scent of sea salt, something putrid and rotten reached her nostrils, almost made Krissy hurl again.

“Why embrace this suffering any longer? Why do some of you resist so?”

Krissy did her best to ignore Sorrowglade, but it was impossible not to listen. His voice kept cutting through the sloshing of ocean waves, infiltrating her ears and mind and thoughts, like tendrils snaking their way forth, smooth, and slow and steady and certain—

“I can make him whole again. I can end his suffering and restore your happiness.”

A gasp almost escaped her lips, but she fought back against it, even harder than she paddled. A part of her wanted to take Sorrowglade up on their offer, but she remembered the words from that call Heidi had taken from the dying man.

Not in a monotone, but a growl, she replied. She repeated those words from the mysterious call as she watched the life fade from the eyes of the man who had committed the murder-suicide at her college, “When the ascetic glimpses gold outside the gloom, he is blinded and strays from his path.”

Something grabbed at the paddle and because she had turned around halfway to face Not-Jacob and address this Sorrowglade, she never saw what yanked that paddle away from her, dragging it underwater and letting the darkness beneath the ocean surface swallow it whole.

Having reached the peaks of her panic, it made no difference anymore.

“These are not my final moments,” she finished. And despite her voice trembling, every syllable emerged with force, riding on waves of defiance.

Sorrowglade continued to stare at her through Jacob’s deadened eyes. They waited for more, but Krissy had said her part. Gave as little as possible, because she sensed how they did not understand one another, even if they spoke the same language and could comprehend the individual words.

“We may be delayed today,” said Sorrowglade. With no anger nor emotion. “The awakening comes eventually, like your sun always rises and always sets.”

The silhouette of the mountain moved. Not because of the boat’s steady rocking amidst the ocean waves, or Krissy’s sight being affected by that motion.

“A celestial body that you see in ways it is not, believe it behaves in ways that it does not.”

No. The mountain moved. Its shape changed as limbs parted from it. Monolithic and towering, one such limb reached out towards them, creeping closer and closer. A low baritone rumbling accompanied its arrival, like a nearing earthquake, heralding how the ocean waves turned more violent, now splashing higher and higher against the malleable sides of the raft.

Something oily and dark and glistening pierced the veil of mists and closed in quickly on Krissy.

As she screamed and clamped her eyes shut, the searing pain flared up in her every limb. Everything hurt.

A string of profanities, panting gasps, the sound of panic weighing heavily on Jenn’s voice as she apologized profusely, both to Heidi and to an imaginary mountain of oppression that haunted her every working moment.

Jenn helped remove the many heavy boxes under which Heidi had been buried alive, and Heidi groaned in pain.

Nothing serious. Nothing had harmed her. The pile of boxes had miraculously did nothing tangible to hurt her.

Krissy was not Krissy any longer, but Heidi again. Heidi hoisted herself up onto her side and her skin tingled as she felt Jenn’s wispy hands gently touching her while she tried to help her up onto her feet.

Trembling from the shock, Heidi’s knees buckled for a moment, but Jenn helped her stand up straight. They stumbled their way out of the sea of boxes and bags that now littered the narrow corridor of the storage space.

The mountain had almost gotten Krissy. Luckily, she was now Heidi.

“Oh my gosh,” Jenn whispered. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

Heidi shook her head and took Jenn’s hands, grasping them firmly and giving them a shake for emphasis, not letting go.

“No, look, don’t worry about it. S'all good. I, uh, I shouldn’t have been here—uh, back here—to begin with. I was just gonna. I was just, uh—there was a sound, and I was just, I wanted to check on you,” Heidi finally said, struggling to find the right words and omit the deluge of wrong ones and not sound like she had lost her mind.

Trying not to talk about her time as Krissy, after a plane crash, talking to the Sorrowglade that had possessed her half-dead boyfriend’s body.

Because none of that made sense. She had turned into another person and back again.

And almost as if to confirm the sheer insanity of it all, the moment the two women emerged from the storage room into the warmer light of the clothing store, Heidi saw Krissy and Jacob standing in the aisles of the shop. Although well out of earshot to hear whatever they were talking about, Krissy’s animated movements suggested she was berating Jacob for some fashion faux pas he had just committed in commenting on her most recent choice in attire to try on.

Jenn’s continued apologies barely pierced the haze of Heidi’s mind, still drifting back to that gloomy ocean, that mist, and that mountain. Its oily, tentacle-shaped something that reached out—that almost reached her.

Almost touched her.

Its agent, Sorrowglade, having almost convinced her.

Almost.

Yet more harrowing things she could not speak of in therapy. For all of this was real.

All of this suggested the invasion of that cold thing, hailing from the darkness between the stars, from far away. From distant worlds, from devoured husks, reaching out and trying to find more connections here, in our world.

Heidi smiled at Jenn and assured her everything was fine. What a beautiful lie.

“Did you find the belt? In my size?” she interrupted the clerk.

Jenn’s eyes went wide, and she burst out laughing.

All the anxiety blown away; it was almost like old Heidi was back. The one from before the incident.

Almost.

In truth, she only wore a mask.

Deep down, she felt sick to her stomach. Wondered what she could do to prevent the coming calamity. Wondered if she could even do anything.

Nobody would believe her if she told them.

She struggled to believe it herself.

—Submitted by Wratts

[santiagoswagger]

we were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart

Flower shop AU | My contribution to @b99fandomevents 2019 Summer Fic Exchange, for the lovely @benwvatt! 

Amy has always been a planner. 

She received her first calendar when she was six years-old to keep track of her extracurricular activities, and her scheduling addiction arrived soon after. She needed organization to feel sane, normal, like her whole world wouldn’t crumble beneath her feet. Growing up in a house full of rowdy brothers, and now working in a job that is more unpredictable than not, the only thing she’s ever felt any semblance of control over is her calendar. 

But as she furiously clicks through page after page on Yelp in a haze of escalating panic, Amy curses her calendar for the very first time in her life. 

She forgot about Mother’s Day.

It’s not a total surprise, she supposes. She’d spent the last two weeks working to solve a high-profile kidnapping and there hadn’t been any room in her life for restful sleep or food that didn’t come from a vending machine, let alone time to buy her extraordinarily picky mother the perfect Mother’s Day present. 

It wasn’t until David (stupid David!) sent a reminder in the Santiago siblings’ text chain that Amy realized what a colossal mistake she had made in forgetting about the annual Santiago Mother’s Day brunch. Her heart began to palpitate faster than it did that time in college when she consumed an entire pot of coffee the night before her calculus final. That hadn’t ended well at all, but Amy refuses to let this day be a complete disaster. Not showing up to her parents’ house empty-handed is a good place to start.

Now, an hour after receiving David’s text, she’s frantically trying to find an acceptably rated flower shop somewhere in Brooklyn that is both open and taking new orders on such a busy day for the industry. Calls to three had so far dashed all of Amy’s hopes and dreams of one day seeing her photo proudly displayed on the family mantel, knocking David’s out of its place of honor.

She continues to scroll through Yelp until her cursor lands on one called Rachel’s Flowers with a promising four-star rating. Amy painstakingly scans through each review and the only negative one she can find is from a woman who two years previously said the cashier was “annoying beyond belief.” 

Glancing at the clock, Amy decides she would take a chatty cashier over a withering glare from Camila Santiago any day. Running out of time, she foregoes calling ahead and hopes that Rachel is the florist of her dreams. 

The shop is on a quaint, quiet block in Amy’s precinct. ‘Rachel’s Flowers’ is written in neat, green cursive above the brick facade. Its old-school charm is in sharp contrast to the hipster record store and vegan restaurant it’s sandwiched between, and Amy immediately loves it for its simplicity. Standing here is like stepping back in time. She wonders why she’s never come across it before, even in her days as a beat cop. 

She parks her car across the street and walks in, practically running into the line of last-minute shoppers, so long it’s practically out the door. Amy feels her blood pressure spike on the spot.

She walks quickly around the showroom to assess the ready-made bouquets so she can make a quick exit. They’re mostly made up of multi-colored carnations or pink roses, and they’re so beautifully arranged, but Amy can just picture her mother’s face if she were to gift her with any of these. Amy’s grandmother loved gardenias and white hydrangeas, a love Camila inherited; vases of them were always scattered around the Santiago home when Amy was growing up. Bringing her mother any other kind of flower won’t have the desired effect Amy’s going for. 

She waits in line for almost fifteen minutes, tapping her low heels on the ground with every passing second. Being late to brunch would almost be worse than showing up empty-handed, in Amy’s opinion. 

When Amy finally reaches the front of the line, she is greeted by a man she assumes is the chatty cashier from the Yelp review she read earlier. He’s handsome, with kind-looking eyes and a cute, lopsided grin, but his wrinkled flannel and sloppy curls don’t instill much confidence in her.  

“What can I do for you?” he smiles, big and warm. 

“I’m looking for a bouquet for my mom,” she says, trying valiantly to keep her growing anxiety at bay. “She’s really difficult to shop for. Do you have any white hydrangeas and gardenias?” 

“No, I’m sorry, we used most of our supply for custom orders. What you see out here is pretty much what we have left.” He just keeps smiling. Amy wants nothing more than to wipe the stupid smirk off his face. 

“You don’t have anything else in the back?” she asks desperately.

“Sorry, it’s a busy day.” To his credit, he looks apologetic. She can see the sympathy swimming in his eyes. Unfortunately for him, Santiagos never admit defeat. 

“Can I please speak with your manager or the florist?” she asks politely. 

He has the nerve to laugh. “Uh, I’m both.” 

Amy fights the urge to do a double-take. Her finely-honed observational skills spot a large, mysterious red stain on the sleeve of his flannel and she’s fairly certain he’s responsible for the Carly Rae Jepsen songs pumping through the shop’s speakers. How could this man be the one responsible for the delicate flower arrangements by the door?

Amy sighs deeply. “Look, I know this is probably one of the worst days of the year for you, but I forgot it was Mother’s Day and I don’t want my picture to move any further from the mantel than it already is. Can you please help me out and put something together that will at least moderately impress my picky and terrifying mother? I’m willing to pay whatever.” 

He looks thoughtful for a moment, crossing his arms and bringing his pointer finger up to stroke his chin. Amy figures he’s probably trying to figure out what she meant about the family mantel.

“Do 100 jumping jacks.” 

She’s completely caught off-guard. “Excuse me?” 

“You said you would pay whatever,” he smirks, looking entirely too proud of himself. 

She squints at his name tag, pinned to the collar of his haphazard shirt. “Look, Jake, I’m really not in the mood today.” She rummages through her bag to find her phone and look for another flower shop nearby. She’ll take a bouquet from a bodega at this point. 

In the chaos, her badge flies out and lands face-up on the cashier’s desk. Amy sees Jake’s eyes widen, and she can’t help but feel slightly vindicated. 

“You’re a cop?” he asks. 

“I am,” she says carefully. She can’t tell if he’s afraid or if another snarky comment is headed her way. 

“That’s so cool,” he says reverently, picking up her badge to inspect it with the utmost care. “I always wanted to be a cop.”

Amy eyebrow lifts involuntarily. It’s hard for her to imagine this goofy, messy-haired man as one of New York’s finest, but she can tell he’s being genuine by the pure excitement emanating from every part of him.

“It’s a pretty cool job,” she smiles as she takes it back from him. 

“What’s your favorite cop movie? It’s Die Hard, right? It has to be Die Hard!” His flailing hands punctuate every word. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone so worked up about Bruce Willis. 

“It’s Training Day, actually, but I suppose you’re entitled to your wrong opinion.” She’s not sure why she’s bantering with the florist, but there’s something so undeniably charming about him. 

“Denzel wishes,” he scoffs. Amy laughs, earning a surprised smile from Jake. 

He takes a second to look around the shop. There are a few stragglers milling around but it’s fairly empty.

“What’s your name?” he asks as he turns back to her.

“Amy,” she says, confused. 

He grins brightly. “Well, Amy, it looks like we’re in a bit of a lull. Let me take a look in the back and see what I can do for you.” 

Relief hits her like a swift punch to the stomach. “Thank you so much, Jake.” 

He nods, beaming, and heads to the back room. 

Amy takes the opportunity to look around now that the panic has died down somewhat. The black-and-white tile floor is covered in just enough scuffs to let Amy know it’s seen some things, as does the chipped green paint on the walls. The bouquets are so thoughtfully arranged and she can tell they were made with such care. Amy briefly wonders how a guy like Jake ended up here. 

“Aha!” she hears him exclaim from the back. 

Amy turns around as he walks back into the shop, sneakers squeaking against the tile as he brandishes a beautiful bouquet over his head.

She hurries over to take a closer look. Jake had grouped gardenias and hydrangeas together in a clear, modern vase, and he had tied the whole thing together with a single silver ribbon. It’s simple and elegant, and very Camila Santiago. 

“They’re beautiful,” she breathes. “I thought you didn’t have any gardenias and hydrangeas left?”

He moves to scratch the back of his neck. Amy swears she sees a hint of a blush spread across his cheeks but she quickly writes it off as a trick of the light. “I managed to find some leftover gardenias and then I remembered that this custom order of white hydrangeas was never picked up yesterday, so I just, you know, threw it together for you.” 

Amy has a sneaking feeling that he isn’t telling her the whole truth, but she appreciates it nonetheless. 

“Thank you, Jake,” she says genuinely. “You’re a lifesaver. My mom will love these.” 

“Eh, it’s no problem,” he says. “You just owe me a huge favor now.”

She barks out a laugh. “You’ve got it.” 

As he rings her up, Amy can’t help herself. “How did you become a florist? You wanted to be a cop, right?”

He chuckles. “I was in the academy when my nana got sick. This was her shop. I used to come here every day after school to help her with orders and I got pretty good at it. When she passed away, I couldn’t let them sell it, so I just kind of stayed and kept it running.” 

He shrugs it off. Amy is dumbfounded. 

“That’s really incredible, Jake.” 

“Surprisingly, being good with flowers does not help with the ladies,” he jokes, handing over her receipt. 

She takes it with a small smile. “Maybe it will one day.” 

He smiles softly back at her. “Yeah, maybe.” 

“Thanks again, Jake.” 

“No problem, Amy. I hope your thing with the mantel works out, whatever that is.” 

He waves as she walks out the door and she feels her stomach bottom out. Well, that’s new. 

Brunch goes better than Amy could have hoped. Camila doesn’t say much, but she purses her lips and places them on top of the grand piano in the living room - prime real estate in the Santiago household, even if no one in the family plays piano. Amy’s photo moves one spot closer to the center of the mantel. 

She knows she owes most of her success to Jake, so when she gets home she decides to thank him in the most sincere way she knows: a handwritten note. She pulls out the floral stationary she had custom-made with her new title when she made detective at the Nine-Nine and gets to writing. 

Jake, 

Thank you for all of your help today. My mom loved the flowers, and I owe it all to you. You really saved me. John McClane has nothing on you. 

Amy 

She reads it over and over until she decides to have mercy on herself and shoves it in the outgoing mail slot before she can drive herself any crazier. 

A few days go by and Amy’s nearly forgotten about the note when a man walks into the precinct holding a giant bouquet of red tulips. The splash of color isn’t something one tends to see in a Brooklyn police precinct, so he catches almost everyone’s eye right away - except Amy’s. 

She’s nearing the end of a large stack of paperwork, which she’s determined to get through before the morning briefing. She sees feet moving towards her out of the corner of her eye but she doesn’t think much of it until she hears someone clear their throat.

It’s Jake, the florist. 

“Hi,” he says, clearing his throat again. This time, she can detect his nerves. 

“Hi,” she says, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles easily. “I got your note. Very nice touch, by the way. I’m here to, uh, ask you to dinner.”

She raises her eyebrows, caught off-guard. 

He quickly deflates. “You have a boyfriend, don’t you? I knew it. I’m so sorry, Amy. I won’t bother you again.” 

It’s this grace in the face of defeat that makes Amy’s heart swell with sudden affection. He’s a complete stranger, but she instinctively knows he’s someone she can trust. “Jake, I’d love to go to dinner with you.” 

He smiles slowly. “You would? You’re single? Really?” 

She nods, grinning. “Yes, really.” 

The tips of his ears turn bright pink. “Okay, great. When should I pick you up?” 

Amy grabs a neon post-it note and scribbles her phone number and address. “Seven?” she asks, handing it back to him. 

He takes it, looking somewhat dazed, like he can’t quite believe his good luck. He gently sets the tulips down on her desk, careful not to disrupt her files. “Seven, it is. I’ll see you later, Amy.” 

“Bye, Jake,” she says, waving shyly as he heads for the elevator.  

Once he’s gone and she’s able to pull herself back down to earth, she steals a glance at the bouquet he’d brought her. The tulips are vibrant and beautiful, and full of promise. 

Later, when she kisses him for the first time, she takes in the floral scent that seems to follow him around and it feels like home.

[rosywaifu]

Home {A Percy Jackson Oneshot}

Hi Everyone! This is for @coldheartedgay ‘s AU: 

“Can I ask a small request from a PJ AU I made? The general premise is that Half Bloods are born with certain hair color depending on their Godly Parent. Percy - Aqua Annabeth - Silverish blonde Grover - Deep Green Etc.” 

I read this request at one in the morning, so I may have gone a little off-book so if this isn’t what you had in mind, LMK and I will redo it to what you actually wanted! But, when I reread it this morning, I thought what I wrote was actually kind of cute so here you go! Please, enjoy and keep requesting, I love it!! 

Percy brushed the hair from his forehead, trying different hairstyles by pushing and pulling the strands in different positions. He made faces at his reflection; pouted lips, smoldering eyes, sucked in cheeks for the haute couture look. Finally, he let his aquamarine locks flop against his forehead framing the deep green eyes staring back at him. He was worried about today. If all went well, he’d be engaged. He gave his appearance a last once-over and walked out of his cabin. The air was warm but he was able to stay cool from the breeze coming in from the ocean. He brushed the invisible dirt from his dark blue dress shirt, not being able to keep from fidgeting from his nerves. He tucked and smoothed and picked at his entire shirt to keep his nerves smothered. Once he reached the door of the Athena Cabin, he was sure his shirt was worse than when he started. After a deep breath of the May evening air, he rapped his knuckles three times sharply against the dark oak wood. He took a step back to let the air take hold in the space between him and the door. Hardly a second passes before the door swings open to reveal the silver haired beauty that was Annabeth. Percy drank in her appearance appreciatively; soft, silvery hair curled like a princesses draping down her shoulders with just the slightest bounce. Her tanned skin sporting a bright smile. Her dark grey sweater dress contrasted nicely against her hair and complimented her skin tone. Her camp necklace adorned on her neck. Percy thought she was incredibly beautiful and could hardly keep himself from proposing right there in the door way in front of all her siblings. “Wow, Seaweed Brain, you look great! Very dashing.” She smiled as she teased slightly with her words, but meaning every one. “Not so bad your self, Wise Girl. Took my breath away.” He said smoothly making her smile as she clasped his hand tightly into her own as she closed the door behind her. “Ah, I thought Piper got a little crazy with all the primping but seeing how smart you’re dressed, i’m glad she made me look so nice- even for just a casual date.” She sighed as she talked, half because she was so content with walking with Percy right then and half because she was frustrated he never gets any of the hints she’s dropping to have him propose. Annabeth wasn’t normally one to beat around the bush, but she had let Piper and Hazel convince her that proposing was a delicate matter. She had to use subtlety, they said. It had been 3 months now and Annabeth was about ready to shove that subtlety right in its—

“So, I thought we’d have a picnic near the strawberry fields and the water.” Percy’s voice musing out his plan for the evening kept her from finishing her derailed train of thought. “Sounds lovely, Percy.” They walked in step to the place where Percy was sure he pulled off the most romantic picnic area that ever was. A deep blue and grey plush rug, mechanical candles (as to not start and forest fires), fresh strawberries, cherries, macaroons, and sparkling lemonade. He wanted to get champagne to toast to like they do in the movies, but Chiron, as happy as he was that Percy was proposing the Annabeth, would not bend the rules of no alcohol on camp; even to those of legal drinking age. So, sparkling lemonade it was. Annabeth gasped at all the effort, Percy went through- all the food and drink with the candles glowing in the fading blue sky, even lily pads with little pink and purple flowers floated atop to the water in the little inlet. The whole area looked like a magic forest. She gave Percy a big smile who looked a little sheepish at her happiness. He wanted to make this their most memorable date yet. Sure it was happening at camp, and not a fancy french restaurant but camp was home and their favorite place to be, especially with each other. They sat down and talked about random things and nearly anything that popped into her head. Annabeth talked about the new building design she came up with, explaining all the intricate and delicate ideas and designs she came up for it. Percy half listened to Annabeth, truly trying to listen no matter how hard it was for him to pay attention when she talked about stuff like architecture. He wasn’t super into it but that didn’t mean he didn’t try to pay attention and ask quality questions. The other half fretted about the right time to pop the question without cutting her off too soon or waiting until the end of the date. Soon, Annabeth started asking questions for Percy; how his day went, what he had done since the last time they saw each other (which was only since breakfast that morning). Percy’s tensed shoulders relaxed at talking about the sea animal he got to save that day; a large sea dragon of sorts, about the size of a baby calf, got caught in flurry of fisherman’s hook, fishing poles and netting. He got pretty banged up and his dad sent word to him, via hippocampi, that the mythical creature needed his help. And Percy truly animated when he told the tale of his daring rescue, diving under the ocean waves, swimming as far as the English docks to rescue the incredible creature. Annabeth smiled as she could literally feel the love he had for animals. Eventually, the evening began winding down as Percy felt the anticipation buzzing his every nerve. Annabeth began to clean up but Percy stopped her quickly. “Hold off on that a second. I-i have to talk to you..” his voice was jilted and stiff. Annabeth had a gut instant fear that he was breaking up with her. Would Percy really be the type of guy who would give her a great last date before breaking her heart, like how you give your dog the best last day before having to put him down just so they have one last good memory? Percy, with how completely endearing he is, and idiotic, would probably think a great last date would ease the blow of a breakup, unknowing how wrong he was. Annabeth’s moment of doubt was quickly scrubbed away as she remembered how amazing her relationship was with her boyfriend. Things started to ease as they left their teen years behind; calm and soothing. They spent a great deal of time with one another but still had their own friends and lives as to not smother one another. In fact, it was her relationship being so great that led her to wanting to get married in the first place. She stood up and grasped Percy’s hand gently as he led her a tad closer to the water, wanting to feel the comfortable rock of the waves; encouraging him. He knelt down and grasped both her hands tightly in his grasp. “Annabeth, I love you so much, I would probably, no actually i know i would have died without you back when we were twelve on our first quest together. You have saved my butt so many times over the last ten years, I know i’ve saved yours at least half as many. Without you, my life would be less interesting. I wouldn’t know any of the differences of buildings, I wouldn’t understand what it means to be a hero at all without you teaching me your resolve, confidence, determination and power. You are the most incredible, smart, beautiful, infuriating and talented person i’ve ever met. I love getting lost in our discussions on the lives of the greeks might going on, I love getting lost in ADHD and caffeine fueled ramblings. I love to being in the same room as you. I have been building to this moment for years now.” He pulled out a ring box and exposed the small and dainty silver ring, with the most intricate engraving of wave designs and olive branches interchanging curling up to wrap around the small and modest ocean colored jewel. The jewel seemed to change color with the light passing through it giving it the appearance as if the jewel contained a part of the Mediterranean sea within it. “Annabeth “Wise Girl” Chase, will you do me the absolute pleasure of becoming your husband, your meddling partner, for good?” His eyes twinkled with hope and promise, a smile tearing his face apart as he stared adoringly at her deep storming grey eyes pool with love and excitement. Annabeth fell to her knees, a large smile unable to be constrained on her face. “Yes! Gods, yes seaweed brain! I love you!” And before Percy could slip the dainty ring on her finger, she pulled him into a kiss, embracing him fully, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. His own arms pulling her closer into him, wrapping his own arms tightly around her waist. Seconds later, they pulled apart and Percy was able to pull the ring from the box and slide it softly onto her ring finger. As he did so, Annabeth reveled in the fact that some times when the light danced perfectly on the sparkling jewel, it looked like it was colored as vibrantly aqua as Percy’s hair. Percy watched her face smile at her new rings as she admired it. “I got the jewel straight from the ocean. I went deep sea diving for months looking for the perfect one. When I saw it, the filtered light from the sun streaking through the ocean made it look silvery blue and it reminded me of you; your eyes and your hair. Plus I had Leo and Tyson design the actual ring part, giving my two-sense about the design here and there of course but they built it. However i did make sure they included a specific point.” He smiled conspiratorially, making her arch her eyebrow in piqued curiosity. He gently grabbed her wrist and gently pushed the jewel deeper into the ring. It turned into a half shield, covering her wrist to her elbow and about her arms width above and below. She marveled at the beautiful shield; deep silver with the etched designs of ocean waves and olive branches seemingly moving in wave patterns across the shield. “I named it stavroménoi erastés, meaning Star Crossed Lovers, as a reminder I guess that even though our parents hated each other, our friendship and love can survive and conquer anything. To always protect you and to have a little piece of me when we’re apart.” He winked with the boyish grin adorning his features. Out of the corner of her eye, Annabeth saw something move near the bushes. And thanks to the nearby ocean, Percy had the same quick instinct. With incredible precision from years of battle reflexes, that and living this close to a forest packed with monsters and Clarisse, Percy drew his sword Riptide from his pocking, dislodging the cap as he pulled it out, ready for use just as Annabeth shielded part of her face with her shiny new sword as she drew the dagger that had previously been strapped to the outside of her upper thigh. They pointed their weapons to the noise, poised to attack at the slightly motion of an ambush. “Show yourself!” Annabeth called with incredible strength, almost making Percy want to drop his weapon at her mercy. He thanked all the gods on his good list that he never had to be on the business end of her dagger like that. Suddenly a large tuft of forest green hair appeared above some of the bushes, sporting rather silly looking branches, that Annabeth quickly deciphered as horns. Soon a glimpse of pink hair, flaming red hair, sky blue hair, dark black hair, dark, oil slicked-looking red hair, bright gold hair and blood red hair peaked over the top. Percy And Annabeth shared amused looks before lowering their weapons. The spots of colored hair soon officially identified themselves as Grover, Piper, Clarisse, Jason, Nico, Leo, Hazel and Frank. They all shared a slight look of embarrassment but it was more or less overshadowed by their excitement. “S-s-sorry, guys! We couldn’t help but watch! We would never want to miss the proposal of Percabeth!” Grover bleated. He ran and gave Percy the manliest embrace he could muster. Suddenly, the whole gang was surrounding them, cheering him for finally being able to muster the courage to do it, admiring the ring, and celebrating their engagement between the favorite couple of camp half-blood. As much as Percy wanted to be mad and embarrassed that they had all heard him pour his heart out and let it gush all over the place, he was actually very glad to have his own little cheer squad, cheering him on and lending their support to this anticipated moment. Annabeth was a little more angry than Percy but her anger quickly subsided as her friends gushed over the idea of a wedding making her insides feel all giddy and excited. The stole a glance at one another over the roar of love and support from their friends, no- family and admired each others glow of love making their hair glitter silver and aqua in the bright, sparkling moon. He was so glad he proposed, knowing right there, right then, the wedding would most definitely take place here at camp; at home.

Word Count: 2,261

[maraudersandlily20]

The Founders: Part One

Helga always wore flowers; in her hair, around her neck, on her fingers, if she could manage. Her friends were often surprised that she was able to find that many flowers to wear, no matter the season.

It was simple things like flowers that kept Helga happy, which was good. So many terrible memories were surrounding every good thought she had, so it was integral for her to spend time thinking about simple, good things.

Helga was quiet under the tree, watching the sunlight glint through the branches as it slowly went down while the time ticked on. She knew she had been gone for too long, but was desperate for a breath of fresh air and a moment to forget the bloody memories tainting her thoughts. She had retreated from the castle and found a patch of small yellow flowers. Yellow was such a good color, so bright and cheerful, that she couldn’t resist twining the stems together to make a makeshift crown.

“There,” she said, holding up her crude tiara. “It may not be as beautiful as Rowena’s, but it’s certainly good enough for me.” She placed it between her light red curls and made sure it was secure. Though she didn’t know how she looked, the flowers made her feel more beautiful.

“I don’t know how you always find flower patches, Helga, but it does make it easier to find you.” She looked up at the intruder to her thoughts and was met with the black eyes of Salazar. She smiled.

“Hello to you too, Sal.”

He smiled. Helga always could make Salazar smile. “Are you alright? You haven’t been in the castle much this morning.”

She shrugged. “I was feeling a bit claustrophobic. I got tired of hearing about colors of houses and qualities students should have and what not. Sometimes it’s overwhelming, what we’re doing. Don’t you think?”

Salazar took a seat beside her and adjusted his tunic. “I suppose. But it is important. A school for young witches and wizards to learn how to use magic for good. Nothing like that has ever been done. It has a lot of merit, which is why we have received so much support. Though I agree that Gryff and Rowena often take it a bit too far.” They laughed. Their friends had been overzealous with many of the ideas they had discussed in regards to their school. Hogwarts.

Helga had decided on the name. They were some of her favorite kinds of flowers, with big unapologetic blossoms. They were majestic and serene, and her case for the name had been so persistent that the other three agreed to name the school after Helga’s flower.

The school had been an idea Godric had had after the war. With Byron safely vanquished and the world returning once more to peace, the young leaders of the army were allowed to consider future generations. They had all gotten close through their campaigns against the dark knight, and decided together that they would start a school in order to teach young witches and wizards how to perform magic for the good of the world.

It had taken a few years and a lot of planning, but now the school was erect, with its turrets and big doors. People admired the castle every day, pleased with the progress its’ creators were having. If everything went according to plan, they intended to open the school that fall to begin teaching students.

“It’s all rather exciting, isn’t it? The idea of teaching students how to use magic and use it well? Instead of hoping they’ll figure it out as they go along.”

“I suppose.” Salazar agreed. “Education is integral to the growth of the magical world.”

Helga laughed. “You sound like Rowena,” She said through her mirth, making her friend roll his eyes.

“You started it.” He loved to hear her laugh. It was a sound she freely gave to people, but it always made the air seem lighter. He reached up and adjusted her flower crown. “Gryff sent me to fetch you, if you were curious. I believe we have some business to attend to regarding student admittance.” With that, he got up and offered her a hand to assist her. She took it gratefully though felt confused.

The pair headed into the castle and Helga allowed herself to be taken with its beauty. The stone was clean, the rugs were lush and glorious tapestries hung on the walls. It was a thing of magnificence that they had created. Helga followed Salazar to a room that would eventually become Godric’s personal study. He had decorated in the colors of his house, gold and red. “The color of honor.” He had boasted loudly, as he was known to do. He was sitting atop of his desk, laughing with Rowena who was sitting on the large chair in front of him. She looked rather out of place in the room, which was a foreign sight to behold. Her long blue dress made a stark contrast against the chair she was on.

Helga always thought Rowena looked like a queen. She had led massive armies into battle against the darkness, but never allowed that to affect her wardrobe. She wore intricately designed gowns of blue and black, stitched with silver lining. Those were the colors of her house, blue and silver, and she wore them with pride. Helga often felt small beside her. She was never as good at wearing clothes as Rowena was, and so settled often into peasant outfits which made her good friend sigh in exasperation.

Godric looked up as the other two entered. “Helga!” He boomed, his deep voice resonating around the stone. “We were wondering where you wandered off to.”

“Not to worry, Godric.” She quipped. “If you had looked out of the window instead of looking in the corners your study, I’m sure you would have found me much quicker.” This made Godric laugh. Helga was good at making people laugh.

“Did you enjoy yourself outside, Helga?” Rowena asked. Helga nodded and showed off the small flower crown she had weaved together. Rowena complemented it, her sincerity ringing through her voice. Rowen often felt jealous of Helga’s ability to find beauty in small things, but was grateful that she was learning how to do so as well with her friends assistance.

“So what do we have to discuss?” Salazar piped up, finding a seat behind Godric’s desk. Helga took the other armchair and his three friends looked up at their leader expectantly.

Godric was a natural leader. His strength and ferocity, his ability to think quickly on his feet, had saved him and countless others during the war. When the war ended, it only felt natural for the other three to follow his counsel, as they had done through numerous occasions. He was glad to be listened to and taken seriously.

“I think it’s time to decide what each of our respective houses are going to represent. And the kind of students we allow in them.”

Rowena hummed, nodding her head in agreement, as was Salazar. Helga just looked confused. “I’ve been thinking,” Godric continued, “That the Gryffindor house would only accept students who were brave, courageous and chivalrous. Any who portrayed those qualities would be welcome in the house of Gryffindor.”

Helga was confused. She didn’t understand why this mattered, but Rowena had jumped onto the idea as well. “Ravenclaw would be the pinnacle of intelligence. Students who valued knowledge and wit would be a part of my house, and they would treasure the truth.”

Helga looked at her, wondering why this was so important to her friends. Their students were going to be children, living in a world they couldn’t quite understand. They needed to be taught and taught well so that similar circumstances to Byron the Black would never arise again. She was about to voice these thoughts, but Salazar beat her to it.

“My house would focus on cunning and resourcefulness. Any with the ambition and quick intellect would be sorted into my house.” Godric and Rowena nodded. All of their houses and the virtues they would personify were the values that the founders held most dear. So, at last, they looked to Helga. She was lost in thought, staring at the floor. Godric cleared his throat.

“And your house, Helga?” He urged.

Her head suddenly snapped up and there was a fire in her eyes that reminded the three in the room of the time in the war. Helga believed in compassion and kindness, but if she was angered in anyway, she was beyond ruthless. She had hewn down many enemies with her blade and was unafraid to stand up for herself. Her friends looked at her in shock.

“Why should it matter?” She asked, trying to keep calm and failing. “Why should they be put against such high expectations, forced to come to this school and immediately be separated from each other, thinking that they are different o-or better than their friends and peers? Why would we ever put them in a situation where they became focused on one value or one quality?” Her eyes flashed as she took in her companions, each with their mouth hanging open. “The whole point of creating this school wasn’t so we could make them think they didn’t belong together. We should be focusing on how to teach them to be good people with all of the values we hold dear. And that includes teaching them to be brave and courageous and intelligent and witty and resourceful and ambitious. Those qualities shouldn’t belong to just one house. Next thing you’ll say is that we should only allow Purebloods to learn.” She met each of their eyes, allowing the disgust to color her words. “What the world needs isn’t more “us” and “them”. We have spent so long fighting against each other, killing each other, for our beliefs. We should not be focusing on reviving that tradition within the walls of this school. The fact that we are discussing this AT ALL, the fact that you each have put actual thought into this idea…” She scowled. “It makes me wonder why I ever agreed to do this in the first place.” With that, Helga rose to her feet and stormed out of the study, leaving her friends with shocked and horrified faces behind her.

She marched through the halls, past curtseying servants, until she reached what would eventually become the common room for her house. She hadn’t spent much time thinking about what it would look like or what her house colors should be or how to decorate the spacious room. There was simply a fireplace and a rug that her nurse had helped her make when she was small.

Helga hadn’t been allowed to use magic to make the rug. Her nurse had been adamant on that point. Helga had had to weave every thread herself, and when she had finally finished, she had felt an intense feeling of accomplishment. “You see, little one?” Her nurse had said, patting her hair. “You are capable of making good things without magic. Magic isn’t everything, and you must recognize the role that both muggles and wizards play in this world.”

Helga sat on the rug and remembered those childhood days spent weaving, looking out the window and wondering what life would be like without magic. She had taken the rug everywhere with her. When she had gone to war, she had packed the rug and used it to cover the ground when she slept. It had graced the floors of her command tents. It had seen all of the things that Helga had seen, and now it was to see the close-mindedness of her friends.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, lifting the flower buds from her hair to examine them, speaking as if they could hear her. “They are simply children, anxious to learn. There is no need to subject them to separation. They deserve to learn side by side with their peers, not subjected to this treatment, as if one value is superior to the other. That’s not why we created this place. It was supposed to be a safe haven for the children of the wizarding world.” She hummed and laid back, letting the rug embrace her. “I doubt they will be dissuaded from this course, however. If I know one thing about my friends, it is that they are a stubborn lot.” She laughed, admiring the yellow blossoms one by one. “Yellow is a good color,” she mused. “Perhaps it will be my houses color. The color of happiness.” Then, her mind was filled with clarity as she realized what she must do.

Helga found Rowena, Godric and Salazar in the great hall. Godric was eating the food for super, Rowena held her head in her hand in thought, and Salazar was pacing, looking anxious. Helga cleared her throat and they all looked up at her, wary of what she might say.

“I would like to apologize to you all.” She began, catching them by surprise. “We have been through a lot, the four of us, and there are certain things we find important that make up who we are. I understand that and was thoughtlessly cruel when I suggested those things didn’t matter. So I hope you can forgive me.”

They all nodded and waved away her words. “I also understand that separating the children into these qualities might help better educate them. Focusing and encouraging their strengths is a good way to teach. And you’ve all chosen worthy things to be important in your houses. I have decided on mine. The values of my house will be patience, loyalty, dedication, and hard work. And if any child, no matter who they are, does not feel accepted by our houses, they will still be welcome in mine.”

Godric scoffed. “You make us sound as if we are purposefully shutting people out.”

“You are.” Helga retorted. “That is what will happen. There will be children out there who do not care about being smart or being brave or being cunning. It will be of importance in their minds. And perhaps they also would not care for hard work, but it will not matter. As long as a child needs a place to be sorted, they will belong with me.”

The other three looked as if they were thinking about arguing, but Helga held up her hand. They remained silent at the gesture and she continued. “And I mean everyone. There has been talk about the bloodlines we will let in this school. But placing emphasis on the importance of bloodlines show weakness and prejudice and cruelty. A child should not be judged by their lineage, not by their parents’ decisions. All magical children will be welcome in Hogwarts, no matter who they are. And if that displeases any of you, then it is no matter. They will learn of your values in my house.”

A stunned silence filled the air at her declaration. It was unnerving how passionate Helga could be in regards to things like this. None of them dared repute her and Rowena stood and gave her dear friend a hug.

“If it matters that much to you, Helga, then so be it. Anyone from anywhere can come to Hogwarts. That will be the law.”

Helga smiled. “You can do whatever you please in your own houses, I do not care. But the house of Hufflepuff, with colors of Yellow and grey, will be for everyone. I don’t care about bloodlines or imaginary separations. I’ll teach the lot, and treat them just the same.”

Godric laughed and called for more dinner to be served. Rowen ushered Helga to a seat and began chattering at her immediately. Across the way, however, Salazar was glaring, red faced, and grinding his teeth.

The last thing he wanted was a bunch of mudbloods in his school, and he would make sure the others knew it.

Hi kiddos. I’ve had a major case of writers block the past few days when it comes to the Marauders, but I’ve found a little bit of a remedy in the Founders and their stories. It’s really different, but it was super fun and easy to write. Helga Hufflepuff is the kind of person we should all want to be. I marked this as Part one, but I’m not sure how many of these snippets of the founders I’ll make. Just being prepared haha! Hope you enjoyed it.

Also, side note, my birthday is on Friday (which is also Ravenclaw pride day, holla at them Ravenclaws, of which I am one) and I was thinking of posting a little get to know me thing. Super short and stuff. But if you have any questions you’re dying to ask me, send me a message! Love you guys!

[mikegranich87]

Galaxy Z Fold 3 hands-on: Built stronger for durability and S Pen support

It’s hard to believe that in just a matter of years, foldable devices have gone from the stuff of science fiction to actual usable daily drivers. Here we are today, checking out the third generation of Samsung’s foldables, which the company just launched at its Unpacked event. The Fold 3 is the bigger, more premium of the new pair of bendy offerings, and the Fold series has been around longer than any other folding phone. Since launching the original, Samsung has worked to improve durability and software, which continue to be the two biggest challenges for foldables.

The Z Fold 3 is also the first of its kind to support Samsung's S Pen, meaning you can write or draw on the larger canvas without breaking the screen.

In addition to stylus support, the Z Fold 3 features water resistance, a new under display camera in the larger screen and a stronger build that Samsung says brings an 80-percent increase in durability. Best of all, it starts at a cheaper $1,800. At a socially distanced preview event in New York, I was able to check out the Z Fold 3 and am so far pleased with what I've seen.

S Pen support

Given my limited time with the device, I focused on checking out things that are new, starting with the $50 S Pen Fold Edition and $100 S Pen Pro. For these versions, Samsung made the nib rounder than on older styli, so they’re less likely to tear into the screen. If you apply too much force with the pen, its nib will retract. For those who are concerned that the nib might be too sensitive and slide back into its housing at the slightest touch, I can say that it took a fair amount of effort for that to happen during my hands-on.

Cherlynn Low / Engadget

Though the 1.5mm nib is rounder and more than twice as thick as older S Pens, I didn’t find it too large and it was still very precise. I was able to draw fine lines and sketch thicker ones by applying more force, thanks to the 4,096 levels of pressure sensitivity.

Samsung said the durability and latency on this screen are better than any other pen-compatible device it offers, and while I can’t make a direct comparison yet, the stylus did feel responsive and fluid in my brief preview. You can spend a little more to get the S Pen Pro, which also works with the Fold 3. It’s bigger, longer and supports Bluetooth for remote controls. Unlike the Fold Edition, the Pro model needs power and has a USB-C slot at the top for charging.

You can only use either S Pen on the internal screen, by the way — the cover display does not support pen input. There's also no slot for the stylus so you'll have to find a way to make sure you don't misplace it.

Multitasking software and under display camera

With the unfolded display, you can use multiple apps at once. The 22.5:18 aspect ratio is uncommon, which is why on previous Folds, many apps like Instagram and Netflix didn’t completely fill the screen and were awkwardly flanked by empty space.

Cherlynn Low / Engadget

Samsung has worked on a few experimental features to make Android apps work better on the roomier canvas. Under Labs in settings, you'll find options to choose 16:9, 4:3 or fullscreen as the default aspect ratios that apps launch in. You can also enable Multi Window for all apps, which allows them to open in floating panels or split screen, even if they weren’t designed for those layouts. There are also options to auto rotate apps and use a Flex mode panel that makes better use of the screen space when the system detects that the Fold is half-open.

At my demo session, I launched the Camera app on the Fold 3 and it expanded to take up the whole screen when I opened the device all the way till the hinge clicked in place. When I folded it slightly, the app split in half, with thumbnails of photos in my camera roll on the left side and the viewfinder and controls on the right. As I snapped more pictures, they quickly showed up on the carousel on the left. I was impressed with how responsive the system was — the app switched between Flex and fullscreen modes with no delay.

There aren’t many apps that support Flex Mode at the moment, but Samsung said it’s working with developers to encourage adoption. One more thing the company did to make multitasking on the Fold 3 easier is add an option to pin the Edge panel on the side to get a taskbar-like experience a la Windows or Chrome. I can’t vouch for how useful this will be in the real world yet but I like the idea in theory.

Cherlynn Low / Engadget

To make the larger screen feel more immersive, Samsung used a new Under Display Camera (UDC) on the Fold 3 that camouflages the 4-megapixel sensor under some pixels. At least, that’s the theory. I was confused at first when I looked at the Fold 3’s main screen with a dark wallpaper and could clearly see the camera. Then I opened Google Maps and the small dark circle that’s the sensor disappeared under the blues and greens of the world. Well, sort of. There was still a ring of pixelation, but it was only obvious because I was looking for it.

The distortion is there because that part of the display has spaces between its pixels to let light through to the sensor underneath. It was noticeable in Maps, but less so in Chrome, where the top row of the screen was more evenly colored. I didn’t find it too distracting when I jumped between apps or browsed the Engadget website, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I got used to it over time.

The sample photos I got with the UDC were decent, although I’d still prefer using the main sensors on the other side of the Fold 3 for selfies or landscapes. This under-screen option is mostly there for video calls.

Updated screens and stronger build

Software and a UDC aren’t the only improvements to the Fold 3’s screens. Both the 7.6-inch interior display and the 6.2-inch external one now support adaptive 120Hz refresh rates. For the cover screen, that’s twice what it was before. The front panel is still somewhat low-res at 2,268 x 832, while the bigger one inside is 2,208 x 1,768. At least they’re both AMOLEDs. That means colors look richer, blacks are deeper and contrast ratios are higher than on LCD smartphones.

Cherlynn Low / Engadget

To support the S Pen, Samsung also redid the Fold 3’s display stack and added a Wacom layer. While it did that, it also used a new stretchable PET5 (Polyethylene terephthalate) material in the Fold 3’s factory-installed screen protector. Compared to its previous foldables, Samsung claims this screen is 80 percent more durable.

The Fold 3 also features a stronger build than previous versions, and for the first time since Samsung started selling foldables, this year’s Z-series phones are rated IPX8 for water resistance. I didn’t get to test this at our demo, but I appreciate the peace of mind that will give me when I inevitably get caught in the rain or accidentally spill water all over a review unit.

The company also used something it calls “Armor Aluminum” in the Fold 3’s frame and hinge. That’s “the strongest aluminum ever used on a Galaxy smartphone,” Samsung said. It also covered the Fold 3 in Gorilla Glass Victus, which it said is 50 percent hardier than what it used on its older devices. Again, I didn’t want to drop or scratch the demo unit under the watchful eyes of Samsung reps at my preview, so I can’t say how well these will withstand the bumps of daily life yet. But the hinge did feel sturdy as I opened and shut the device repeatedly. Plus, as I pushed my thumb into the middle of the edge to close the Fold 3, I didn’t feel like I was going to damage it.

Cherlynn Low / Engadget

Although it made the device more durable, Samsung was still able to shave off a few grams and millimeters. The Fold 3 weighs 271 grams (0.6 pounds) and measures 6.4mm (0.25 inches) thick, which is thinner and lighter than the Z Fold 2 (282 grams, 6.9mm). These are subtle enough differences that the new Fold doesn’t feel much smaller than its predecessor, but even an 11-gram weight loss can make it easier to use the device for longer.

A more noticeable change is the new slate of colors. The Fold 3 is available in silver, green or black, and my favorite of these is the green. It’s a muted forest green, unlike the pastel hue on the iPhone 12 or the understated jade of the Pixel 5. Compared to these shades, the Fold 3’s looked the classiest.

Wrap-up

Three generations in, Samsung has clearly learned a lot and the Z Fold 3, at least based on this preview, feels very refined. Plus, its lower starting price of $1,800 is more palatable than the Fold 2’s $2,000. But does that mean Samsung has perfected its foldable formula, and is the Fold 3 ready for the average consumer? Even at its new price, it’s probably still too expensive for most people. For early adopters curious about things like battery life and camera performance, I can’t gauge these till I can test the Fold 3 out in the real world. But for the first time since the original Fold, I can see a future where foldable phones will be embraced by a mainstream audience.

Follow all of the news from Samsung's Galaxy Unpacked event right here!

from Mike Granich https://www.engadget.com/galaxy-z-fold-3-hands-on-specs-price-available-now-140051893.html?src=rss