#lonanasona

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Spin the bottle - Seventh Virtue

The fun part about early Seventh Virtue was writing Lonan & Harrison meeting each other for the first time all over again. Here’s an early section where they prove they cannot have a single normal conversation!!!

Their meet-cute is when Harrison gets caught thieving (by Lonan) and they almost kill each other. ❤�� Soooo on brand.

Seventh Virtue, circa 2021.

Text transcript under the cut!

“So you cut me, arrest me, throw me down here, and now you want to dine with me?”

“Yes,” Lonan said. He ripped open his cutlery packet, slipped out the black fork. As he unloaded bouts of fried rice, mounds of glossed orange chicken, and a generous helping of black pepper beef, he added, “And I didn’t cut you. You did that yourself.”

Harrison snorted. Oh god, he was starving. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the façade before he started drooling.

“That’s because you were going to stab me in the gut,” he said.

“I wasn’t going to stab you.”

“So what were you going to do with the knife? Use it to play spin the bottle with me?”

Lonan arched a brow. “Would you like to play spin the bottle with me?”

“If you’re the one I’d kiss, then sure.”

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“You look like a Prada guy,” and other random things Harrison passes off as flirting | Seventh Virtue

Some chaotic Harrison dialogue to spice up your dash!! <3

Sifting through early Lonan & Harrison interactions from Seventh Virtue! Lots of personal favourites in this bunch.

Seventh Virtue, circa 2021.

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Extensions - Moth Work x Seventh Virtue

A cute little sentence in Seventh Virtue (2022) that just about sums up Lonan & Harrison’s relationship.

Adapted from a scene in Moth Work (the iconic EAR PIERCING SCENE!!! who wants it!!!) Circa 2019.

On mornings like this, it was easy to pretend they were the only two men left alive on a scorched earth, that their deaths were so imminent that becoming an extension of the other was all that mattered.

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Reflections | Lonan x Harrison <3

Compilation of some extremely cute Lonan and Harrison quotes. Some are from Moth Work (2019) and some are from Seventh Virtue (2022).

Text transcript under the cut!

1:

At two in the morning stretched across his mattress in a rare blip of sleep, Lonan was an exhale, or the muted rustle of a duvet. In the car, Lonan was the satin circle of his own breath, a second body to heat a wintery sedan. In Harrison’s own reflection, Lonan was a shimmer in his eye, something alive and indisputably a part of him.

2:

How much time had they spent looking at each other? At dusk walking through an open field, their elbows catching switchgrass, or over a pool of persimmons at the supermarket, or in a silent, lightless room, nothing as arresting as the other’s reflection.

3:

They swayed on the tile, music-less, for what felt like hours, movements unplanned but synchronized. Spinning in slow circles as the sun flit through the window above the shower, clutching the other’s face until their reflections merged.

4:

The sun flits through the window above the shower and catches Harrison’s face, and this is his angel, Lonan should tell him he’s his angel.

5:

As Harrison looked up at him, he studied this man who seemed so much like a masterpiece carved of Carrara marble. How did he deserve him? This man who looked at him like heaven unfurled somewhere behind his eyes and if he looked hard enough, he could reach it.

6:

With Lonan, he felt more alive than he’d ever been, more delicate, more loved.

7:

“He is good to me,” Lonan says, tracing the constellation of Harrison’s freckles with his ring finger. The waves frothy just ahead of them, a silver light haloing them both now. “He’s good.”

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“We just stared at each other” & other romantic endeavours

Is it romantic to stare down your ex—who you may still be in love with—in a bathroom??? because Harrison wants to know

Seventh Virtue excerpt from 2022. Reeve and Harrison discuss their parallel “almost” romantic moments, ft. platonic kisses & Reeve’s POV!

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“I know,” and other Valentine’s Day gems <3

The closest thing I'll get to normal romance in this book (Feeding Habits 2021/2022)!

The first image is an earlier scene where Harrison asks Lonan a question and the last three is in the final chapter where Lonan (sort of) answers it! <3

Happy Valentine's Day from these unromantic losers (who I love very much ❤️)!

Text transcript under the cut!

Excerpt 1:

“I’ve been trying to figure you out,” Harrison says. He should do as he’s been told to, or at the very least, hold the fork, but his arms remain dulled at his sides. “What’s so different—wrong—about you.”

Lonan arches a brow mid-bite, stares ahead at the night table. “Oh?”

“It’s funny because I can’t even remember what I thought of. But I swear so many things are wrong.” Take the fork, he tells himself. Just pick up the fork.

“You’re different, too,” Lonan says. “Change is natural.”

“But what if it isn’t?” Harrison urges his hand toward the fork, almost gets it to the handle. “Have you ever thought of it—what our lives would have looked like if everything had stayed the exact same?”

Lonan swallows, reaches for his coffee cup. “No.”

Harrison nearly deflates at this answer, whatever progress he made sliding straight back to the floor. And Lonan must notice this because he scoots closer, places a hand atop Harrison’s and guides it to the fork. This close, Harrison can hear, and nearly feel, Lonan’s heartbeat. Steady in his chest, so strange for this man he’s known so well to be hollow.

“It won’t work.” Lonan’s voice is hardly a whisper. “Whatever solution you’re trying to orient by reassessing the past. You’re here now. There’s no alternate way out.”

Excerpt 2:

He doesn’t even know where it goes. Even though he follows its descent into the dead branches of a cedar, at some point, the stone just disappears. He throws another, and the same thing happens. Following its path so attentively, so carefully, and still losing it.

“I thought about something you said.”

The sound of Lonan’s voice spooks Harrison enough to toss another stone. He turns his chin slightly over his shoulder, not enough to even look at him. These are the first words he’s spoken since the haircut, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh?” he says, tosses another stone. He’s certain he can follow this one, aims for a plane of driftwood near the shoreline. Still, he loses the path.

He feels the breeze shift as Lonan sits next to him. A shuffle of rocks, and a second later, Lonan tosses one down, too. “You asked me if I ever wondered what our lives would’ve looked like if everything had stayed the same.”

Harrison stiffens. He’d said no, of course. Harrison thinks of that word as he tosses another rock. No. The air has started to smell metallic. Any minute now, it could start to pour.

“Yeah?” Harrison says. He doesn’t really want to hear more. Or maybe he does. This would be the perfect moment for Lonan to reach toward him, his hands firm and not tentative, brave, not scared, and confess his love. A man who looks just like him in a European romcom might do exactly this under twinkling Parisian lights. But in all truths, Harrison doesn’t know if Lonan has love to confess to him, if he himself could do the same.

The waves below simmer against the sand. Harrison clutches a handful of rocks so they indent his skin, then throws them right in. Perhaps Suzanna was right about Lonan’s motives to come back to the east. Perhaps he really was only looking for his sister. And perhaps, she was also wrong. That his return was not about an either or but about a yearning for both. Breeze, strangely warm, laces Harrison’s jaw. Above, a single drop of rain hits his crown. When he reaches into the ground, picks up another clump of stones, and cranes his wrist back to the throw, Lonan touches him. So light that he barely feels it.

At first, he stares at their hands skin to skin, and is distracted by how one’s vein seems to momentarily leap into the other’s. Then he looks up. In that moment, the air open, the birds fleeing south, the trees swimming along the clouds, nothing matters but Lonan. Harrison watches him, his guarded, but gentler face, how he inhales, like he’s on the brink of confession. If their lives had stayed the same as they were a year ago, if they hadn’t strayed onto an uncharted path like a gazelle losing its flock, if they’d gripped each other so surely that one or both disappeared. Harrison looks into Lonan’s eyes, blue as forget-me-nots and replenishing like the waves below. When the wind picks up, circles around their shoulders in a seeming connection, Harrison parts his lips for air, and without hesitation says, “I know.”

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Indissolubility & Lonan x Harrison

There was something inconceivably indissoluble about them—their bond mirror-like, one making a decision, and the other mimicking it with vigour somewhere else, unknowingly inseparable. —Feeding Habits 2021

On my Moth Work re-read, I was shocked to see I’d written a scene that (unbeknownst to me) repeated in Feeding Habits (book 2). The above is a FH line describing exactly what Lonan and Harrison are like: unknowingly inseparable, always on a path toward each other, even if they don’t realize it!

Summary: After 2 separate dinners a year apart, Harrison and Lonan both drop things (lol) when they see each other after extended breaks.

Just so y’all know: ALL of this was completely unintentional. Down to the flowers!

Top 2: Lonan’s POV, Moth Work (2020)

Bottom 2: Harrison’s POV, Feeding Habits (2021)

Text transcript under the cut!

Lonan’s POV:

Lonan brings over glasses, the leftover white wine, undoes the curtain so the moonlight streams in on the table. He brings the first pot over, and then the next, arranging them with his good hand. Eliza and Suzanna are in the middle of talking about the versatility of nutmeg when there’s a knock at the door, so Lonan takes it upon himself to answer it. He wipes his hands on his jeans and brings a rose with him—he doesn’t know why. He undoes the master lock first, then the deadbolt, the flower fit between his knuckles so when he opens the door, it accidentally pricks him.

In the kitchen, Suzanna laughs at Eliza’s joke, something vaguely about Geminis, or maybe she says alibis. He doesn’t quite hear it. He doesn’t mean to drop the rose, but it falls with a muffled thump between them, a floral border easy to penetrate. Lonan blinks many times. He breathes many times. He counts many times. But after all the tests—the blinking, the breathing, the counting, the person at the door doesn’t change. Sunshine hair. Concerned mouth. Semi-crooked nose. Butterfly lashes. Eyes the colour of a kingfisher.

Harrison’s POV:

The apartment is dark when he tracks in. The scent of cinnamon steeps the air like Suzanna’s just pulled a saucepan of papas off the stove. At first he doesn’t hear it, but he should, the voices leafing the kitchen like a flit of moths. He steps out of his shoes but never sets anything down, even after he passes the coffee table. Two plates ringing the centre, streaked with caldeirada and bayleaf. A pitcher of lemonade sweating onto the glass. It is almost like he never left, like he and his mother shared dinner, sipped from each other’s cups, cleaned the tines of each other’s fishbones. And he almost believes it. He never went to the farm. The kittens are where he left them, just a few feet away, not in Brooklyn. He doesn’t have a job to tend to. He never fixed the coffee machine. He didn’t go to the convenience store. He is not slathered in sunscreen, not holding a dog collar or pastries or a bouquet of tulips. He never dove into the ocean like it was some port to asylum and didn’t emerge soaked and walking half-dead to his apartment because he never left. This reality is so easy to believe that he is unfazed by the voices and how they get louder when he reaches the kitchen, when one says, “Were you shopping for the apocalypse?” and the other one chokes on its drink and apologizes for its rudeness and stares at him in daydream, those eyes like forget-me-nots, gas fires, sea-foam, the wing of a starling, the burning ocean, his drop earring.

Harrison is grateful he is soaking wet when he enters that kitchen and Suzanna and Lonan sit at the table sharing a box of petit fours. At least he has an excuse when he drops everything.

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who wants a cute haremiah excerpt

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what's harrison gonna do when old bf (lonan) and new bf (callahan) are in the same room together they're the same guy different colour scheme

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girl the sunless ground lonanasona devotion is like no other like who's ready for harrison to tell lonan "anywhere you go I'll follow"

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wait wait I think I've officially made harrison MORE pathetic than lonan

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Lonan as fine art in Seventh Virtue x Moth Work x Feeding Habits

get you a man (harrison) who only describes you as elaborate works of art lmao

A range of Lonan descriptions from Harrison’s POV, circa 2019-2023.

In order of appearance: Seventh Virtue, Moth Work, Moth Work, Feeding Habits.

Text transcript under the cut!

Seventh Virtue (2023)

Some of this was taken from an early 2021 exploration for Feeding Habits that never made the cut.

At first, he’d tried to resist it, the way his hands seemed to unconsciously flick out Lonan’s jaw in charcoal, blot his eyes in ultramarine. Lonan was his raven with the Pacific in his eyes, his muscle memory. By the end of it, Harrison’s fingers were stained irreparably with a body, and on Reeve’s seventh day away, he found himself nearly finished the sketchbook, every single page grafted with Lonan’s unsuspecting, two-dimensional face. Harrison tore each one out, threw them into the solitary air of their room and left them all there on the floor.

Moth Work (2020)

The flame tints his jaw gold, glares in his eyes so they look like blue fire. The night halos around Lonan, burnishes the cove walls, turns the sand into a mirage. As Lonan nurses the fire, Harrison traces his face, the violet impasto around his eye. Lonan has always looked like a masterpiece to him, damp black hair that almost looks navy blue, a smile so subtle, it’s almost acquired.

Moth Work (2019)

Lonan turned as he caught him staring and hid under his sheath of hair, and he was Harrison’s David, statuesque, carved in soapstone, polished, ready for a museum.

Feeding Habits (2020)

Final line was written in 2022!

Lonan’s blips of humanness are disturbing for the reason that yes, he’s a better person now, but yes, Harrison is a worse person because of it. So he wishes to be yelled at. To be left unspared. But instead, Lonan sits there, silent. In the snow’s glow, he is sunbeamed, could be holy, some soapstone cherub iconized, a luminist painting. Cael could never be this man before him, this divine being Harrison loves.

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lonan & harrison almost get into a car accident & then things get bloody & intimate somehow (from 2020? 2021?):

read the full scene under the cut!

Harrison nods. He presses a palm to the cold window until his print transfers, then stares out the window through his fingerprints. As Lonan makes a right, closer to the water, Harrison stares at its surface, the way it shifts and bends with sunlight. He nearly dissolves inside the car. Doesn’t feel its steady pulse against the road or even notice the re-fogging of the window pane. He sees himself and his mother standing on that water, finding a new place to dive into this new life and nothing more. Just newness.

And then Lonan nearly crashes into an oncoming pickup truck. It happens so quickly, Harrison isn’t certain it’s even occurred or if he’s even stopped looking at the water. But when he turns, only slightly, barely moving his head, a tie of blood stripes Lonan’s upper lip, and the car stalls so long in the middle of the road that at least three cars nearly rear-end it.

“Pull over,” Harrison says, so slowly, it is as if he tastes the words individually before letting them out. “Lonan, pull over.”

But he doesn’t see him. Lonan is so still, Harrison almost believes he’s imagined his presence, and would call himself delusional if it weren’t for the subtle movement of the blood. It pearls into his mouth, yet Lonan never looks at the direction it flows. Instead his gaze stays pointed to the waterfront, glimmering.

Harrison doesn’t know how he takes the wheel, or how he manages to ungracefully tuck them onto a side street. Doesn’t know when the tree-shaped air-freshener skitters from the rear-view, or when it stops. How long it takes for the car’s frizz to still, how long Lonan sits in the driver’s seat, nearly drinking his own blood.

Harrison reaches for him. One hand on the back of his neck, and the other reared toward the red stream. His touch is tactful, so faint his fingerprints wouldn’t even be left behind, but still, the dabbing with his jacket’s hem is enough to redirect the blood’s flow from Lonan’s upper lip to the cuff of leather.

The radio is still on, garbled like an unmassing of crepe paper lanterns. Harrison’s instinct is to hum, and so he does, wrings Lonan’s blood free, and puffs quarter notes. In this time, Lonan doesn’t stir. His eyes remain open, but he stares, hulled, out the front windshield. His blood daggers down Harrison’s wrists, pools in his palms like holy water, and yet it takes the nosebleed’s eventual taper for him to even suggest he is still alive.

It’s just the subtle tick of his jaw at first. And then his bloody nose twitches. A rush of air as he inhales, and then its vibrato as he exhales. Lonan stares ahead as he conjoins back to his body, his eyes flitting to the now still air-freshener and then the glove compartment and then the hand still ledged across his top lip.

Slowly, he peels Harrison’s fingers away, and then tucks his own between them, not an act of intimacy, but documentation. He feels for the blood to be certain it is there.

“It was the water,” Harrison says, studies the ooze of red between their palms. It’s almost impossible to detect where one plane of skin ends and another starts. He thinks of what Lonan mentioned in passing, that Eliza drove them into a lake. He believed him then—it seems like something she would do—but also did not believe him, or at least, didn’t want to.

Lonan squeezes his nose-bridge with his freehand and paves a stray tendril of blood across his cheek.

“You’re stressed,” Harrison says.

“I thought you said I was disturbed.”

“What’s the difference?”

Lonan releases Harrison’s hand, but not before he pinches the leather cuff of the jacket, sponged with blood. He cleans his hands on his jacketfront and buries them under his arms.

“I’ll pay to get that dry cleaned,” he says.

Harrison scoffs. He doesn’t know why he finds Lonan’s indifference entertaining or if Lonan is indifferent at all, if he’s merely embarrassed or flustered or still unpresent. “I stole all your money.”

“Then I’ll get a job. I don’t want to make a mess.” Lonan’s tone is surprising. He sounds almost angry, or maybe desperate.

Harrison holds his bloody fingers to eyelevel, memorizes the flood of his fingerprints, what pattern they make when he leans forward and scores his thumb against Lonan’s throat. “What are you making a mess of?”

Lonan releases one of his hands and then his seatbelt. It scrolls back into its holster with a satisfying click. Though he never does say anything, instead pulling the car back into drive and resuming their route to nowhere, Harrison sees the answer in his face.

You.

who up and interested in reading a deleted scene from feeding habits

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GENTLE LONANASONA FOR THE WARM-UP TODAY OMG

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anyway so I’m thinking about how a reason why the haremiah breakup is so much hurtier than the lonanasona breakup(s) have ever been is bc jeremiah & harrison where GENUINELY good friends that also just so happened to be lovers, their relationship was always friendship first and not necessarily lovers second, but friends who are lovers and vice versa (so being 100% a friend & 100% a lover was intrinsic to their dynamic) & as I sort through jeremiah’s thoughts in changing states yes I notice he reminisces on lost moments of intimacy but he mostly reminisces on things the two of them could have done together outside of their romance like thrifting & dancing & being tourists & meeting each other’s family etc. and of course the romance is always a part of it but that friendship is also a part of it too. love lonan & harrison but in canon they really don’t know how to be anything but enemies to lovers (literally), & so this in contrast is a kind of relationship dynamic I’ve really been enjoying. BUT IT HURTS bc you lose not only the romance but (perhaps more importantly) the friendship!!! like both of you should be together at the club!!!

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realizing that if I write the loose moth work rewrite I can actually do a lonanasona & haremiah romance at the same time