#she told me she still remembers comics I made in class of when we were 10 YEARS OLD

[sandeewithtwoe]

I just had a “despite everything, it’s still you” moment

[iiiiiiits-m]

I am transmasc. 

This is something that I did not truly realize and accept until recently.

Hello, you can call me M, my pronouns are they/he.

I was an eccentric child growing up, in my earliest years I played with the boys and their trucks, enjoyed superheros and comic books, and stomped in the mud. I can remember two separate occasions where I asked my mom “are you sure I was born to be a girl? I feel like I’m probably a guy”, and both occasions she told me she knew I was a girl, even if I liked things that traditionally boys did. 

I moved during elementary school. Suddenly there were only two boys in my class, and nine other girls besides me. It was a Catholic private school and there were uniforms. The girls wore skirts and blouses or blouses and slacks, but my mom preferred the way the skirt looked on me so I didn’t get much of a choice. My hair was a cute bob that just barely didn’t touch my shoulders, and I always wore a flowery headband. I didn’t play with the boys because they didn’t like including girls in their tag games since girls ran slower.  Besides, if I ran around too much my tights would start to run. 

I started middle school in that same private school, except now the girls wore polos with a sweater or sweater vest and the option between a kilt or slacks. We were forced to wear our kilts on the days we went to church in order to look presentable for the lord. My hair was long and wavy, but I always tied it into an ugly low pony because I didn’t have much time in the morning. There was only one guy in our class this year, him and I were friends.

I ended middle school in a different school entirely. I wasn’t used to the freedom in clothing choice that public school brought. I would try to wear whatever looked “cool”, over-feminizing myself in order to seem like a normal girl. My hair was still long and still up. I stayed friends with a single kid from private school, even though we were in separate schools now. I had exactly two close guy friends when I ended middle school. 

Freshman year, and I’m still struggling to grasp basic fashion, though sometimes I managed to put together a cohesive outfit. No matter the outfit’s success, however, it always felt like it wasn’t made for my body. My hair, once halfway down my back, was once again chopped to a cute bob. I tried eyeliner for the first time. I started to realize that I might not completely be a girl, but the title ‘Demigirl’ feels right.

It’s only in sophomore year that I allow myself to consider the possibility that I’m not truly a girl in any sense. I only have one guy friend now, but I don’t know if they count since we’re dating and they’re starting to question their gender. My outfits started to finally look and feel good. I allow my masculinity to flow freely through the clothes I wear, though still wearing eyeliner in order to keep myself pretty. I chop my hair the shortest it’s ever been. I am nonbinary.

Junior year brings quite a few changes in only a few months. I meet a senior who I befriend, and him and I are scarily similar. He tells me about his journey with gender and guides me through my feelings about mine. My outfits are very rarely feminine anymore, and I only wear eyeliner on fancy occasions. I feel gender dysphoria for the first time. I feel gender euphoria for the first time. My hair is still short as I grow it out from a crappy mullet I had gotten the summer prior. I am out to all my teachers. Am I a trans man, or simply a masc-leaning enby? November 2024 comes to a close and I am only three months into my junior year, and I cannot wait to watch my gender evolve and grow. Getting ready in the bathroom each morning I think back to preschool me asking my mom if I should have been made a boy. Man my hindsight is 20/20.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

sorry if you've already mentioned but what (re?)ignited your love of comics/x-men/cherik? curious because there are so many different adaptations of them

i think im gonna speak for a few (or a lot of) people when i say that TL;DR the wolverine x deadpool movie that came out this summer is what pulled me back into comics and i COULD leave it there but i will go into excruciating and unnecessary detail instead because i love an origin story and i love oversharing.

under the cut tho because im nice sometimes (there's also wxdp doodles in here. if you want to see that)

ironically (and probably commonly), growing up i was more of an avengers kid. Kinda. Loosely <- binge watched the cartoons and movies and read copious amounts of comics and fics and i am hoarding fanart in my old dresser as we speak ok 'loosely' is a modest lie.

embarrassingly i remember getting into discus cause of captain america LMAO so yeah needless to say i was a Humble Fan- me joining my school's comic class/club didnt help either (shoutout to my teach from that she was the realest one out there for. A Multitude of reasons). she definitely is was inspires me to even draw still and make comics and i often think bout the tips i learned from her class tbh she was great

back to the movies t and comics tho, i got into em because my brother would offer to take me and that's how we'd hang out (i rarely saw movies in theaters and i even more rarely went anywhere as a teenager. still kinda like that today tbh ooops) and yk. it just snowballed after that.

my brother and i have always liked comics- he just more than me for a while (though he still very much loves comics and As We Know From My Posts we still talk about them whenever i see him To An Exhausting Degree)

durin then i was really into stony and i have a few surviving doodles i made but those are between me and god. and anyone who asks tbh LOL

'snap can you make this related to x-men again this is long' ok so fast forward to This Summer again I Still Don't Really See Movies but my brother offered to take me and this was the first time i'd actually seen an x-men movie in full

as a kid i only remember seeing the 'perfection' scene between erik and raven in first class while i was channel surfing. pretty sure i changed the channel after seeing mystique naked cause i was scared my parents would get mad at me if they caught me watching it LOL

BUT MOVING ON As A Kid i think it's also natural you'll sometimes watch 92 if it's on And I Did though evidently it didn't stick too hard (i do remember really liking beast and gambit though.... still do really): my knowledge of x-men was. INCREDIBLY sparse. like diabolically so so i didnt have too much expectations (aside from the fact i vaguely liked deadpool beforehand).

tbh i dont know why my bro never took me to see any of the x-men movies. it's not like he doesn't Also like x-men (90% sure nightcrawler's his favorite but my brother will be caught dead saying he has absolute favorites like that)- he owns a bitch load of deadpool comics/omnibus sets too (of which ive read over the years and reread this year) but Shrug moving on

Much Like Most Of The Internet i fell down the rabbit hole that way. i have some doodles i made a couple days after seeing WxDP that i now have an excuse to throw at all of you Look And Perceive

and so. As I Do. i got curious and told myself i'd binge watch all the x-men movies the week before i went back to school And Then I Did ft. My Brother Sometimes and then i said i'd binge watch all of '92 and And I Did That ft. My Brother Sometimes But Less So and now we're here. currently watching Evolution...

once i got to school i realized i lived near a comic shop and started getting into the comics that way (the first ones i got since going down this rabbit hole was Magneto Was Right!, The Resurrection of Magneto, and The Trial of Magneto. if you were curious !!!!! clearly i didnt care too much about context i just needed to see My Guy jelvejlkvj i have no regrets and Evidently ive read more since)

i'm pretty sure what dragged me into cherik specifically was the fact i saw a clip of The Famous ending to 92 where erik's aghast at the notion jean even has to question his love for charles. i think that was what officially had me refocus my lens on them: not a single poolverine thought after that LOL (all the cherik posting i saw on twitter definitely helped too but that was the nail in the coffin for any other interests i had: i was locked into cherik and x-men in general now)

that clip specifically, i was surprised at the fact they- frequently even- have the x-men franchise say erik loves charles and vice versa so bluntly. even if it's not meant to be romantic, i fear im just a fan of how casually the word's thrown around with them two and i got tender bout it all. Then Yk. i just live for the drama. the hilarity even. the sincerity .... they make me sick if i think of them too long so im gonna end it here

before i go tho ironically enough, the first x-men issue i owned was This one (story a this is that while stuck in some wacko dimension charles accidentally gets himself trapped in logan's mind while utilizing his astral projection. if you were curious). pretty sure i got it for free with another comic set i got years ago since our old comic shop loved to do that, but it's poetic aint it. maybe ill doodle something referencing it..

i should probably look into finishing this arc someday im Dummy curious to even know how it started and how it ends.....

[peppermint-rat]

I just realized it's officially been ten years since I properly left the mormon church. I don't remember the specific date because it was kind of a "I haven't believed any of this for a while why am I still going" but it did happen in 2013.

Escape-the-cult story time?

So, as I can with a few great things in my life, I can trace it back to a silly little comic series I started sort of by accident. It was about Left 4 Dead, specifically about me just barely escaping death by befriending the infected in cartoonish ways. It kind of really blew up unexpectedly. Suddenly I had an audience. I started doing livestreams and made close friends with many of the viewers.

Were those viewers also mormon? You can bet your ass they weren't. There was a good mix of queerness and transness in there. But everyone was still respectful of my mormon boundaries (kept swearing and really dirty talk to a minimum) so I found it really easy to be respectful back. Suddenly I was friends with a lot of people that the church told me would infect me with their wickedness if I tolerated them for too long. But you know what? Spending time with people different than you, seeing that they're just another human, seeing that they can become valuable people in your life even with the traits you're told to fear, it's very hard to keep thinking of them as wicked. At that point, you have to actively choose to sever these relationships that are making you happy and hammer that prejudice back into your head. And a lot of people do that! But I felt SO happy and SO loved, I just couldn't do it.

And all along in the background, my sister lived in Germany at the time and had a lot of time away from the church. This gave her space to read up on the ACTUAL history of the church and Joe Smith... and she was discussing her findings with me. I didn't really want to believe them, but it got harder and harder to explain things away.

Feeling relaxed around my non-member friends, I start joking like "Isn't it weird that I'm straight but I still get crushes on female characters?" And no one really rushes me to admit I'm queer, but they get really excited when I draw "joke art" of myself with those characters. And after a while, the joke wears off. I admit that these images of me with a woman give me happy fluttery feelings. But then my boyfriend at the time and my judgmental church friend and my other sister sees this, and they Don't Like It. But somehow, I don't end up feeling bad about myself - I feel disappointed that these people would judge me for loving this side of myself. I apologized/asked them not to tell anyone but inside went "You know what, I'm gonna start dating her even harder."

Started having/drawing lots more queer ships. Was pretty open about my fictional gay crushes. Flirted with my non-member female friends as much as I did my mormon friends, but they could actually flirt back which got me all flustered. And I loved it. I was worried about being queer in the church, but I wasn't worried about my soul. Letting myself be queer brought so much joy and love into my life, it couldn't have been evil.

Besides, it wasn't like I was gonna go out and have a queer relationship. It was all theoretical, right? Which is fine in the church. Hahaha.

Through a friend I made in my streams, I met someone who lived across the street from me. I knew of them, we were in the same graphics class in high school, and we were facebook friends. And I would look at photos of them and think "Man, that's the most beautiful person I've ever seen." But like. Totally not in a gay way, right? I won't be completely smitten with them when we start hanging out, right? Hahaha?

Nope. Instantly head over heels.

I came out as pansexual to everyone I knew. My mom thought it meant I was attracted to inanimate objects. My boyfriend (who looked at porn constantly and dismissed my insecurities about it) got upset because if I figured this out I must have felt attraction to another person, real or fictional (he got upset when he saw a totally sfw drawing of a pretty Homestuck troll in my tumblr likes). My dad said "I guess temple marriage isn't a priority for you anymore", and when I said "I never thought you would say that to me" he said "Neither did I, but here we are." Again, people taking issue with a thing I knew to be wonderful.

My parents sort of came around, at least to the point that they would not give me direct grief for being in a queer relationship. I broke up with my boyfriend (actually because I accepted that he was never going to join the church and we weren't even really friends, so what was the point). I was briefly in a relationship with a transmasc friend because I didn't feel like I could say no, but it's worth mentioning because since they were also Christian, I thought I could be with them and stay in the church, but when I realized that the church would never accept them into the priesthood because they're trans, it was a huge blow to my faith. Yet another "What am I even doing this for if I don't believe in it?"

We broke up because I was still in love with the person across the street. But here's where the shelf broke, so to speak, on my faith. I knew this person liked me too, but I was afraid to be with them, not only because it would be a queer relationship, but because they were a non-member and didn't uphold church standards, which I'd kind of just broken up with my boyfriend for. Remember that judgmental mormon friend I mentioned? I remember venting to her about this over Facebook IM, crying because I wanted to be with this person so badly, but how could it possibly work out? And she said, "It can't. :("

Oh. Ohhh. How fucking dare you.

It can't? Why? Because the church said so, and obviously nothing in life, not even my own happiness, is as important as obeying the church? I swore a blood oath to sacrifice all my happiness to the church or else I would burst into flames? This girl was big on the mormons-policing-mormons thing. Here I am in pain over wanting someone I felt I couldn't have, and she feels that the most important thing to do is make sure I don't entertain further temptation to disobey the church. That's the issue here - your friend is having gay feelings and they need to remember that's not okay.

Ha ha ha ha ha! Fuck you!

My sister and I decided to tell our mom together that we would not go to church anymore. My sister posted about it on Facebook, and our piece of shit brother (12 yrs my senior, would have been 31 at the time) said "Congratulations, I'm sure your parents are really proud of you." Because he's incapable of saying anything not horrendous.

I started dating the person across the street. And the relationship that "couldn't" happen has been going on for ten years now. Still completely head over heels.

Sssssuck on that!!

In short, yes, having lots of non-member friends can and will lead you away from the church, but not with their wickedness. They will show you how wrong you were for thinking that they were wicked, and by extension, how wrong the church is. And if you pull one thread, the whole thing comes apart.

[paperboy-pb]

"Willful Ignorance" [Life Story]

[Written in August, 2023]

A parent reminded me why I make PB the other night.

For those of you who don't know, I'm a very young creator. 20 in October. And I had one of my co-writers for a different comic ("Weirder Than Usual") over at my place for the weekend. And being the youngest of a hispanic family, my parents have no plans to let me move out anytime soon. When I do leave, it will likely be without their blessing.

I let one parent drive my co-writer back home for the night. I knew I wouldn't be much fun to have in the car that late (I fall asleep pretty early,) and that we wouldn't be free to discuss creative affairs with that parent there, anyway.

I don't like to be myself with this parent around. We are distant. And I keep that distance for a reason.

And despite my absence, this parent reminded me why. Because guess what my cowriter texted me not too long after!

Some hours later, I can't help but think to myself... it's so funny how she stresses my late speech so much. Because now that it's here, it's as if my words don't matter at all.

I will admit my family doesn't know everything that our Special Ed program put me & other children through. But I will ALSO say that that's their own fault. Because as I grew up, I used to tell them every awful thing that I found important. And it was their lack of response that made me stop.

The driver of that car is clueless. She's "forgotten" about the violence that surrounded me in there. Desks crashing to the ground after an adult's angriest shove. Sweaters stretched out and destroyed from middle school fights that nobody broke up.

She's "forgotten" about every time I told her that we weren't learning what we needed to know, insisting that every class must've been doing 3rd grade worksheets in 7th if we were.

She's "forgotten" her 11-year-old asking if he was on the spectrum; how she put on the confused performance of a lifetime as she told me no. But miraculously, she remembers sitting somewhere in the spring of 2005, being told so by professionals.

And she "doesn't remember" us yelling on the phone in 2022. How I spent 80 dollars on an Uber just so we wouldn't share state grounds. And how I screamed for the millionth time, in no uncertain terms, "I AM NOT MAD AT YOU FOR PUTTING ME IN A PROGRAM THAT PROMISED US HELP. You believed them! I know you believed them, they promised you I'd be okay! The problem is that THEY BROKE THAT PROMISE! And every time they did, you just looked the other way!"

Whether she is or isn't being truthful doesn't matter. It's bad on her either way.

Because I know she remembers my dentist reporting bruxism to her when I still had loose teeth. How they would ask her about my environment, or if she knew whether or not anything was stressing me out. And that she chose to question nothing as it continued nightly into my teens. Damaging my adult teeth and concerning all who would sleep in the same room as me. They could hear me all the time. Sometimes my sister would even wake me up.

I know she remembers marking her little one's height against the wall, and seeing the space under his eyes grow darker and darker across the 6th grade.

I know she remembers making leave Autism themed group chats, because to her, my name & that word should never be in the same sentence.

I know she remembers going through his journals and sketchbooks, finding concept art for our Matthew B. And how just one look was enough to make her enroll me to therapy when I was 13.

And she knows that I remember how she hates that boy. Matthew Boston, I mean. And at least one part of her hates everything that he is; disabled, creative, expressive, and headstrong.

I know because she hates those traits in me as well.

Since I spend a lot of time in disability spaces, I try not to assume somebody isn't trying to understand. Comprehension doesn't come easy to everyone. And I especially suspect that she's neurodivergent as well.

But I've tried everything with this one, and I'm truly at the end of my rope. I've tried visuals. I've tried keeping it short and sweet and simple. I've tried having complex and mature conversations where I don't skip a single detail.

I've even tried therapy with her in the room.

Nothing works. And unless this is the convenient work of an undiagnosed memory condition, there's no reason for that.

My Autistic voice matters so little to her that she insists on prying information out of my friends when I'm not in the room; asking the allistic all these questions I've answered myself one thousand times.

She doesn't want to understand. She doesn't want to question her own ableism. Or work past it. And that's why I don't show her "PAPERBOY" at all, and likely won't until years and years from now.

Because PAPERBOY is for the people who do understand. For people who do understand, and everyone who wants to.

[cookieandbread]

I rewatched X-men Apocalypse like today and here are my thoughts (keep in mind I barely remember the other movies and have not read a single X-men comics in my entire life. also I am incredibely sleep deprived and english is not my first language)

I don't remember much from first class but I remember I LOVED ALEX. AND THEY KILLED HIM. THEY KILLED MY BABY. (I barely remembered his name but I'm emotionally attached okay)

I also remember Erik and Charles being gay as fuck and it's so funny how hard the writers of this movie try to say "no no they're not gay" but fail miserably

Erik losing his family (AGAIN) killed me tho. he's not even my favorite character but PLEASE give him a happy ending. PLEASE. I could write an essay on why he needs a happy ending.

about Erik's family... I love and hate the "Peter is secretely Erik's son and he has to tell him" storyline. love because I have daddy issues and I love Peter and hate because there's one thing and one thing only I remember from Dark Phoenix and it's that PETER DOES NOT TELL ERIK HE IS HIS SON. IN FACT, PETER ONLY APPEARS IN LIKE THE 20 FIRST MINUTES OF THE MOVIE AND THEN FUCK OFF. I HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE FACT THAT I'LL NEVER SEE THAT DAD REVEAL ON SCREEN AND I DON'T THINK I'LL EVER BE ABLE TO HEAL FROM IT. I'll never recover. "I'm your... I'm here for my family too." will haunt me til the day I die. (Now don't get me wrong I 100% understand why he didn't tell him at that moment and it would have been fine by me IF HE HAD TOLD HIM IN DARK PHOENIX)

why does Pietro Maximoff gets so little respect? in the MCU they kill him in the first movie he appears in and the Fox changes his name and shits on the only storyline he has. why do they hate him?????

still on Erik: did he really need to be the villain again? if I remember correctly he kind of turned bad guy at the end of First Class because he killed the guy who murdered his mom because he couldn't make the coin move and then he was full on bad guy in that one X-men where they went in the past (Days of Future Past according to google) and it made sense because of his past and how he was forced to see violence as the only answer but like... AGAIN? with Apocalypse???? (according to google his name is En Sabah Nur) I get the guy had kind of manipulated his four accomplices into joining him but like... did it have to be Erik??? I get the whole repeating the cycle of violence, but isn't the point to break out of it? it feels kind of repetitive

still on En Sabah Nur/Apocalypse, I would have loved to see more how he manipulated Storm, Magneto, Angel and Psylocke to join him. while Erik had a reason to join back the X-men (he's super gay for Charles), Storm changing sides felt kind out of nowhere???? like we see her hesitate a little but we don't understand why she hesitates now when Apocalypse is fighting for the world he promised and not when he killed people (albeit to protect her but like...) I mean I guess there's the whole hero worship for Ravent but then why did she went with Apocalypse in the first place? Raven is a hero because she showed how mutants could cohabitate with humans, not by destroying them!!!! if Storm admires her, why going against everything she represents???? AND WHY DID THEY ALL WENT "yeah okay still rooting for that guy" WHEN APOCALYPSE WAS EXPLAINING TO CHARLES HOW BIG HIS CONTROL ISSUES WERE

whatever is going on with Hank and Raven... I just... don't like that ship. it made me uncomfortable when I watched First Class, it still makes me uncomfortable.

I remember liking her more in First Class and Days of Future Past tho??? she kind of annoyed me in Apocalypse. like wdym you wanna make child (I think they're children? not Peter but the rest) soldiers???? did the first X-men not teach you anything???? YOU AND HANK ARE LITERALY THE ONLY SURVIVORS OF THAT?

they never give us Storm's name??? or maybe I wasn't paying attention but I'm pretty sure THEY NEVER GIVE US HER ACTUAL NAME??? I guess I could find it if I searched on internet (update: I did, she's called Ororo Munroe, that's so cool) but I'm pretty sure they never say it in the movie???? like they just call her Storm???? DO THEY EVEN CALL HER STORM BECAUSE NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT I DON'T REMEMBER PEOPLE CALLING HER THAT EITHER???? (I have a short attention span tho)

from the little I remember of the 2000's trilogy, my favorite chatacter is Storm and I was so sad she had like so little dialogue. I hope it's better in Dark Phoenix??? I mean I'm not gonna rewatch it because I remember really not liking it the first time but PLEASE I BEG YOU let my girl TALK and have a PERSONALITY

Kurt is adorable. I just want to wrap him in bubble wrap and make sure nothing happens to him ever again.

I like Jean but I really don't care for her whole Phoenix thing. it probably has to do with how many times I've watched X-men 3 when I was younger (too many times) and how much I did not like Dark Phoenix but it bores me. like okay we get it she has that dangerous thing inside of her and it's very destructive and it's going to kill everyone she loves and she's going to have to die to prevent that. we get it. can we move on now? idk it frustrates me that Jean gets to have a movie centered around her not once but twice while both Peter and Ororo (and so many other but they're my favs) can't have basic character development.

I genuinly did not care for Scott. also how did he not get character development when his brother died??? he cried about it 2 seconds and then poof. out of sight out of mind. I wanna know how he gets rid of his grief so easily

I've checked when the other movies take place and... I don't understand... how are they aging... I'm so confused... wtf is that timeline... why is there a movie every 10 year? what is everyone's age ????

do I regret rewatching this movie? yes. yes I do. now I am going to obsess over how they could have handled so many things (notably Peter's daddy issues) so much better and lose all my sleep to fix-it fics.

[kinocomix]

devlog 17: things my therapist told me

the script for TSTW is still coming along. the first couple of scenes are the most sensitive ones because they effectively have to hook the reader when little has happened in the story, so I can confidently say that those 8 scenes have been polished enough that I don’t have to worry about them anymore. Now, the main plot begins.

here’s the soundtrack for the rest of this devlog: 

I don’t think there could ever be a fully professional way to talk about the things that heavily affected you as a kid. As an adult, I had to wrestle with the fact that there’s never really a good time to talk about feelings and be happy. There’s always someone in the world suffering more than you, someone dying and something terrible happening to the children of a country being genocided by zionism (free palestine).

Today I’m going to talk about the themes at play in “The criminal mastermind’s pocket diary”, the project I’m working on while writing the script for my other comic, which is coming along well. While a lot of what I’m going to talk about will pale in comparison to the suffering of others in the world, I find it valuable to remember that in order to fight the dragons that plague the world we must confront and quell the evil within each and every one of us.

With that in mind, one thing I haven’t mentioned about the central point of killouette is that in more than one way, her experience is very much my own. Growing up in Beyrouth it seemed like there was one of three options: you’re either born with money in which case your safety can be bought via being in safer areas and schools, or you’re in a middle/lower class area where you’re stuck with the other two choices. One is to pass the time on the street and acquire the culture thereof, the other is to be an indoor kid. My parents, who had good intentions, decided that the best course of action to not have me become a thug was to never let me leave the house except to go to school or family outings. Combine that with a poor financial situation and a tiny house, it meant that growing up I didn’t have the internet, and could rarely take up the space required to do activities. Doing something as simple as reading a book was complicated because most of our books were stored in the sofas which were designed to maximize what we could do in our tiny house. It doesn’t end there, you see my mother has always been a clean freak, so she valued tidiness over most other things. Now imagine all that for a second. An understimulated child, often told they’re “gifted” who could never explore the world or do many things inside either. you can see how that’s a recipe for someone with the personality of a blank sheet of printer paper.

It’s not all doom and gloom though. I still had some fun because I, in addition to being cursed with the gifted label, had an overactive imagination. So the underside of beds became forts, and broken appliances became experiments. The few friends I had at school became a window into the outside… I eventually became a normal human being but there’s something about that entire period in my life that made me feel very bitter towards my parents. Why were you throwing your anxieties onto me? Why couldn’t I just join the scouts? Why couldn’t I stay over at a friend’s house for longer than two hours? Looking back at all of that having gone to therapy I’m thankful for it. I don’t think I would have fallen madly in love with the craft of comics had it not been for me overcompensating for all those missed years. Part of me really wants to heal that inner kid in my head who still wishes for some adventure though. That’s killouette.

Killouette’s parents are much like mine. Not evil, just a little overprotective. Projecting just enough that it’ll seep into killouette’s behavior as an adult. But now, as a kid, I’m giving her something that I wished I had when I was a child: privacy and space. Killouette has her own room and her parents don’t feel the need to constantly police her as long as she’s in there. That might not seem like much, but I think that would be enough for a smart kid to do some pretty amazing things.

you may have also noticed that Killouette doesn’t have any noteworthy character flaws, and it should be obvious at this point that the goal of me making this is in part to empower her. With that being said I am fully aware that while my experience is relatively common, it’s far from universal. This is why the cast is so varied: each child represents to some extent a different way of growing up. I can’t do them all sadly, but I think the grounds will be covered pretty well with what we have. 

there’s also other kids to consider, so I have some things I want to explore with them as well. I don’t want to spoil too much but here’s a quick fire round: Talbas has anger issues because of neglect and video games. bata has well meaning parents but the constant taunting and threats of being sent to far away places cause anxiety in the way she acts. motsik has the most ass, dogshit parents. 0/10 not having a good time. abuse central, destination anywhere else. falefil is spoiled and his parents haven’t taught him certain things about respect and money. that tends to influence his behavior. zmik is the closest to killouette, except he is a version of her closer to me allowed to leave the house. he’s included in the cast partially as a way for me to extent empathy to a younger me, but also for anyone who might be going through something similar to what i did as a kid. lastly there’s claude. claude is for all intents and purposes, if we were to put her in a realistic framework, some weird mish mash of immigrant and orphan child genius. i imagine claude would experience some alienation from some people, but i’m not worried about the story getting sidetracked since her friends have her back and the adults in the story are losers anyways.

On a more general note, I’ve been noticing how my approach to writing has been evolving to suit whatever project I'm currently working on. It was weird at first cause I thought a writing technique is something that you’re just stuck with. With prior comics for example the main concern was always “how do I portray what’s happening in the most raw way possible” whereas with TSTW it’s more “let’s try to be more efficient with the framing of the ideas, as long as it feels right”. With Killouette, it’s not about showing things in the most realistic way possible because if that was the case, for starters this amount of genius kids would not be two buildings apart in some suburb in beyrouth and killouette would not be able to hide the amount of things she does. but that’s not the point. a bunch of what happens in the story could happen with real kids in real life, and the point of the book is to capture a young sense of ambition and wonder. the type of mischief that leaves you laughing and being impressed  instead of wondering what’s happening in the world. I’m not here to tell you about kids committing actual awful actions, I'm here to show you kids having a good time despite it all. that nothing can stop life and the desire for it. 

If the kids of Palestine can still find it in them to laugh and have fun, the least I can do is have some imaginary abused kids triumph over their circumstances.

next week, we’ll be improvising some doodads and seeing how we can recycle previous unused work.

devlog updates on Tuesdays.

[allalliecreate]

In middle school (I think seventh grade?) I learned there was potential for the books they made us read to be good because we were simultaneously reading The Giver in English and a sci-fi book that I don't remember in science.

But when I got to high school I was quickly disappointed. I hated 9th reading Animal Farm, The Odyssey and Romeo and Juliet. I was only vaguely bored reading the actual works (no strong feeling either way) but hated writing the papers they made us write. They always had very specific topics and it seemed like if I felt I did a good job, nope you get a D. I hate this paper? Much better, B+. I was so anxious I was constantly getting stomach aches and my mom had to institute a "one absence per month" rule. When it came time to pick classes for the next year, I tried to pick regular English rather than honors, but the counselor kept trying to convince me to continue in honors English, I was so smart, she knew I could do it. I was to anxious to say no I don't want to do more I only did that year because I was already doing the honors math and I thought I could just get the advanced degree (there was three degrees we could get: the standard, the advanced with 1 year honors English and geometry, and advanced with honors that had 3 years honors English and up to precalculus I think).

10th grade was better, but I was absolutely bored reading The Scarlet Letter and Julius Caesar. We might have also done papers or read more things, but I really can't remember them. All I remember is I did better in 10th grade than 9th. I was once again convinced that I should do honors English, was once again too anxious to do the opposite.

Then summer reading came along. Every year before an honors English class, we had to pick a book from a list and read it over the summer, write a paper, and take a test on it. I picked And Then There Were None. I loved it. 10 years later, I still have it in my bookshelf. Then the school years starts, and I think I had the best English teacher that year that I had ever had. We did a poetry unit that I can't really remember other than I used canvas for the unit project. Then we did The Great Gatsby. It was so fun (a mysterious neighbor whose always throwing wild parties!) , and again we had a project to do rather than a boring pretentious paper to write. We had a big list of item we could pick from and we had to choose 2 to do. I don't remember any of them except two. One was to draw a scene. An artist in our class did a comic of when Nick met Gatsby that had everyone thirsting over Gatsby. The other option I remember was one I picked: you had to rewrite a scene from a different character's perspective. I did Daisy and when I presented it I even read it like I thought Daisy would talk. Everyone thought it was so good and I kept that writing for years. I think it got thrown away with my other high school writing and at the time I saved everything at school so I have forever lost it.

And then we were told we were going to To Kill a Mockingbird. I was so positive it would be back to the stuffy boring books about people doing very little and flowery language and stuffing your face with symbolism. I was completely surprised that it was about a little girl. That had adventures with her brother, who was also under 10! We did have to write a paper for it, but it was a short one. We had to argue whether or not the two sub-stories (Atticus's trial and Scout's adventures learning about Boo Radley) could be separated and still be complete stories. I think I argued that while they may not be able to be two independent stories, they could be separated into two companion novels and still be as satisfying. I don't know if I still believe that, I haven't read it since then, but it is one book I wish I had my own copy of.

12th grade wasn't as good as eleventh, but I did like reading Beowulf and The Canterbury Tales, and just a little of King Arthur. Macbeth was also fun. What I really enjoyed the best was that I was no longer in honors English. That year, instead of doing a long paper on a single vague word (like "honesty" or "bravery" or "love") that the honors students had to spend the entire year researching, I got to write a paper on what makes a hero using a movie hero. I know I wrote about Mulan and I think the main point of my argument was that she wasn't a princess with a whole country to consider, she wasn't some chosen one who had to make a choice to make or break the world, she wasn't even being specifically hunted by some evil. She was just a daughter that loved her father.

got thoughtful about opinions on bad books so here’s an inverse: what’s a book you had to read for school that you actually enjoyed/have grown to like? mine is Lord of the Flies

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

9.8.24 Sunday

10:26 am

Still, have windblow...

Thank God...

The wifi is here... Uncle DD is acting strangely though the money is sent to him by my adoptive parent's... 2 babies here,me and Uncle DD....

But of course, I need to work... Though, Uncle DD sometimes doing a side lines of selling pies and handling some pizza's delivery...

Thanks angels for the wifi...

I pity Crysette coz she needs a laptop for her college lectures, I can't lend her my laptop coz it is something personal for me.... Uncle DD is spoiled on my adoptive parent's... The tablet of Crystte is not compatible for her class on-line apps...

I have fear if she damage my laptop Uncle DD is not really helping me here... I'm just pooping in their bathroom coz our toilet bowl is still clogged.

If only if I have extra money, I pity Crysette....In spite of a child is still a child... Though, not my responsibility.... I pity her but I already told Uncle DD that Crystte needs a laptop for her class...

4:54 pm

Still,have windblow...

I feel super stress....Thinking of money and I need to start a job... I feel so frustrated but I hope it will be the start again...

For the people who are damaging me for 17 years, learn to let go and move on... For me moving on,it doesn't mean losing my dreams to achieve the vanity that I want or to lose the person that I wanna see again and that is my cousin-white on my Aunt Ten2x...

Thanks to Sir Joe,Jay and Ms Sasa for always assisting me and some good angels behind.... Just waiting for the start date again...

I'm so fucking excited to buy Starbucks everyday coming from my salary but doubting the "everyday".... I'm self-pitying for so long coz I wanna collect Starbucks Tumbler...

I need to pay Ely a cash, if I can but if not a sing as a buddy... In a lil while...

But I still wanna see my cousin-white on my Aunt Ten2x ... It is a thing that will haunt me forever if there was really an unfair "Entangle Thing"...

5:23 pm

Still,have windblow...

My inside is really crying... I was really thinking and realizing some things in life and did a back-tracking including about my cousin-white...

Trying to remember everything in details... Did I miss something??? Everything were slow motion in my head... 17 years too much, can't wait for a new beginning at least let me work now...

But my cousin-white on my Aunt Ten2x it will haunt me forever... Is there a missing piece on my puzzle???

5:55 pm

For my cousin-white on my Aunt Ten2x... We are poorish now....

Care for ramen or noodles???

7:51 pm

Still,have windblow...

Tomorrow will do my medical again in Allians near at Jollibee Molino.... Hoping for a good start, I need to work and I need money...

This is something serious... I need to do things step by step... One at a time but I have a plan map to get my cousin-white on my Aunt Ten2x...

I'm so stress.... Thanks, Ely for the back-up... I'm so stress...

8:24 pm

Still, have windblow...

Here in Ely's house... I need a back-up... I'm really out of blood,angels... I did try to convince Ms Sasa not to repeat my medical but she said it is company's order and salary deductions... Ohkay!

I need to suck blood and more good and stable blood.. I'm really out of blood...

11:19 pm

Still,have windblow...

In a lil while will take a rest coz I need to be early tomorrow...

It is suddenly pop-up in my head just like a comic strip... I remember the word "dowry", it is about bride's money for their future or her share to start a life... It is supposed to be that way.... Bitterish! I feel bad... 17 years they took from me... WHEW!!!

11:43 pm

Still,have windblow...

I feel bitterish... I lost the moment but I love the rhythm of this song, most specially when Sabrina made a duet with Harry here.. I lost my love story...

I'll get my cousin -white on my Aunt Ten2x... I will make my own love story... I feel bitterish!

11:52 pm

I really feel bitter....I have windblow... Let's just all move on...

I need to work and get a life... But I still wanna get a nose perfection in time... This is not my ideal aging life, alone and I can't get a bf that I want....I can't feel that I'm pretty anymore... I hate being compared, my greatest fear being compared coz they made me nothing for 17 years...

I really wanna get my cousin-white coz they are all insensitive!

About Mitch? Did she give me these flatness and those simple battery?

I'm fine with it if they like Mitch but at least Mitch I have to know everything...

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Midnight Swan

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Jason doesn't die in the explosion in this AU, BUT he does team up with Kate Kane in this.

Chapters: 3/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Kate Kane, Bruce Wayne

Additional Tags: Jason Todd Survives The Explosion, POV Jason Todd, Angst, Secrets

Chapter Three: Rubble

After spending most of the weekend with Kate, I was ready to go home and lie down, but as soon as I got home, Bruce wanted to go out to brunch. “Can we make it dinner? I’m a little tired,” I mumbled. He solemnly nodded as I went upstairs to shower and tried to go to sleep afterward. Alfred must have changed out my pillows because they seemed softer and fuller than the last time I slept in my bed. It didn’t take me long to nod off. I slept peacefully at first, dreaming of family, but I was no stranger to what happened next. That laugh. It pierced through even the happiest of dreams, leaving me in darkness. I’d end up back underneath the rubble, buried almost entirely. I could feel the rocks shifting as I stared at the last sliver of sunlight peeking through. My ears rang from the blast as I lay there, struggling to stay awake. “Jason,” the voice came through, muffled at first, and still it called. “Jason, can you hear me?” I couldn’t yell. I couldn’t move. All I could do was lie there as I was buried alive. I couldn’t even cry. I lay there, completely still in the dark, and closed my eyes. Usually, by this time, Bruce would come upstairs and wake me up, but he didn’t, and I found myself struggling to catch my breath. The rubble shifted again, and instead of being freed by Bruce, it was my dad. I closed my eyes as I could feel him hit me over and over and over again until Alfred woke me up. “Master Jas—.” I hugged him, and he hugged me back. “Are you alright?” I let go and nodded. “Would you like to come downstairs for dinner?” “I’ll be right down… And Alfred, I’m okay,” I smiled. He flashed me a smile and went on his way. I just hoped he wouldn’t tell Bruce that my nightmares were worse. I cleaned up a little and came downstairs for dinner. Alfred made pot pies, and Bruce smiled and dug right in. “Jason, how was your weekend?” I finished chewing, and at that time, I remembered my lie.

“We were up all weekend, but we went to the beach for a little bit yesterday,” I replied. I tried to keep things as simple as possible, so I wouldn’t forget my lies. I told Bruce I was at a friend's house for the weekend. Bruce seemed like he bought it, but something about him seemed sad. “Jason,” Bruce looked me in the eyes, “To be honest, I was worried about how you were adjusting, but I want to tell you that I’m proud of you.” I felt awful. "How was your weekend?" I asked. Talking about myself hurt too much. All I could do to keep from lying to him. "I got a letter from your English teacher," Bruce whispered. I took a sip of water and glanced up at him. "Jason, are you alright?" "What did she say?" I asked. I was cold when I said it, and I hoped it would deter him from asking. English was one of my best subjects. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jason, it's not about what she said. It's about how you feel," Bruce replied. I shrugged. "Can we talk about something else if you're not gonna punish me?" I asked. Bruce chewed his lip. "She said your last few short stories were... Disturbing," Bruce replied. Disturbing. The word made me want to be cruel. "Ouch! I guess twenty-two and a half hours of therapy... Just isn't enough," I sniped. I stood up and forced a smile. "I'll be upstairs if anyone needs me... So, I assume I won't be bothered," I added. Bruce didn't stop me. I hated being cruel to him, but it was all I could do to keep from crying sometimes. My English teacher wasn't exaggerating, though. All my short stories were gory and gruesome. I wrote about things I never wanted Bruce to see, but I had to write them. I had to write what I knew. I knew pain.

I lay in bed, typing another story for class. I received a video call from an unknown person. I put in my headphones and answered. "Hello?" I asked. Kate turned her camera on.

"I'm headed over there—." "No, don't come here. It's a bad time," I replied. "Even better. Act like you didn't expect me," Kate replied before hanging up. "I didn't expect you," I mumbled to myself. I groaned as I mentally prepared to put on an Oscar-winning performance. Bruce came upstairs and stood in my open doorway. "I pushed you," Bruce whispered. I sat up and nodded. "I don't mean to push you... Jason, sometimes I have no idea if you're okay—." "I'm not okay. Did you see the stuff I wrote?" I asked. Bruce nodded. I lay back and covered my face with my pillows. "I don't care that it's gruesome... I care that you felt like you had to hide it from me. It makes me worry that you're hiding other things from me," Bruce explained. I sat up and nodded. "Is there anything you're hiding from me that I should be worried about?" I wanted to confess to everything and get it off my chest, but all I could manage to divulge was one thing. "I don't think therapy is helping right now," I admitted. Bruce nodded. "Do you wanna stop for a while?" Bruce suggested. "Yeah... Can I stop?" I asked. I couldn't cry anymore, but I knew Bruce could tell it was hard for me to ask. Bruce embraced me. "Of course, you can. I only ask that you speak to me if you start feeling like taking risks or hurting yourself... Or others." "I will. I promise," I lied. I lied through my teeth, and it hurt me to do it. Bruce didn't understand what I had to do. Kate did. Kate understood that I couldn't walk away from the life or the risks that came with it. I had nothing else worth losing.

[kiaranovastar]

A short biography

I was born to a Lithuanian mother and an Irish father. I was born in Lithuania but moved to Ireland as a baby. My early childhood was relatively happy although I was sexually abuses.

I moved from the south of Dublin to the north at a young age. First we lived in a really bad area and our car was stolen. Then we moved to the countryside.

My living conditions were horrible. We lived in a mobile home for a few years before building a house. My father abused me.

As well as that I was bullied by adults a few times. When I was 4 I was chasing chickens around in a park trying to pet them. I caught one and put it into a fence but its wing got stuck so I tried to take it out. An angry woman came over and put her face right up to mine and started speaking in a menacing tone about how she's seen me harassing the chickens, and ended with 'If I see you go near another animal...'. Yes, to a 4 year old.

When I was around 5 me and my brother were going to music lessons we were playing in the neighborhood while waiting for our mother to lock the car. An old woman came up to us and gave out saying she's tired of kids like us causing trouble in the neighborhood and told us to get out.

When I was 6 years old I was playing on my own lawn when a woman drove in (she had some business with my mother). She brought her face up to mine and told me that I have no right to be playing on people's lawns and told me to get off the lawn.

When I was 7 or 8 I was hit by my neighbor friend and I hit her back. Her mother told me to apologize to her and I just walked away.

Then came my school. I moved school in senior infants. It seemed like a good school but you will see later that it was not quite as it seemed. One day when I was 6 a boy was jumping on the teacher's (Mary's) back and another boy hit him in front of me. The teacher turned around and decided to blame me. She asked 'Did you hit him?' over and over again and each time I said no, until I had no choice but to say yes. She put me on timeout and I called the boy that hit him stupid. Then when the president Mary McAleese came to visit, the teachers told her. I was there to greet her along with the boy that was hit. Mary McAleese refused to shake my hand. Later she spread a rumor that I tortured a black boy and called a mentally challenged looking boy stupid.

I was unaware of all this. My childhood still stayed relatively happy until later. When I was 8 I was playing with my toy and a bully said 'Stop doing that, you're acting like a baby' and I said 'Actually, you're acting like a baby'. She told the teacher and she made me apologize to the bully. I could have told her that she said it first but I witnessed a similar situation before and she shouted at the boy that talked back even more and I wanted her to stop shouting at me (I have autism) so I stayed quiet.

I had a nice friend group but that year they all (4 of them) transferred to different schools.

Sometime around the age of 11 a boy in my school touched my breasts.

I think word of Mary McAleese's rumors reached my father because I started getting moody and my eyes started getting hollow, and I think this was around the time my jaw dislocated. I think he was beating me and raping me more badly but I didn't remember it. I remember him pinning me to the floor and threatening me. The kthala told me that he was abusing me with Satanists.

This prompted me to write a series of comics full of rude jokes inspired by South Park when I was 11 and word eventually got to my teachers. The teacher shouted at me in front of the whole class. Obviously this also reached Mary McAleese. I think they were spreading rumors that I drew child porn but at the time I didn't even know what sex was.

When I was 12 I had just joined an internet forum and received a barrage of abuse by a flamer known as Sparx.

When I got into secondary school I had 2 passions; Art and Japan. I was drawing all the time and tried to learn Japanese from the age of 12 but didn't know how to do it properly so I didn't learn it properly until later at around 17.

[[[At home my father was controlling me. He set parental controls at half an hour of computer time a day, and as I lived in the countryside I had nothing else to do. Talking to friends, anime, other entertainment, art (which I was really passionate about), I only had half an hour to do it each day. For the rest of the day I did things such as play video games, doodle and listen to Linkin Park. When I got a laptop in my own room my father would constantly steal it from me.]]]

I was extremely stressed as a teen because [[[since my pre teens my father would constantly make me work for him which consisted of farm and factory work. When I got older I was trying really hard to do art and Japanese (my dream was to be an artist in Japan) while doing well at school while he forced me to work for him for free. I was determined to get out of the house as soon as possible. I worked non stop every day with little leisure time. My father would force me to go to bed at 10 and turn the upstairs electricity off. Little did I know that he was drugging me with ketamine and raping me in my sleep. I got brain damage and started developing spots. I think he might have injected testosterone into me as well.]]]

In school I was always nice and quiet. I used to be boisterous amongst my friends when I was younger but developed crippling shyness. My friend group was ok but they made a lot of distasteful jokes. I had some good friends there though.

I think Mary McAleese was spreading rumors about me because my social media accounts never got many follows.

When I graduated from secondary school I thought I was free. I went to UCC but got put in with the party animals. My room was right next to the living room, the walls were paper thin and they partied every day. I couldn't concentrate on anything so I spent most of my time on Facebook instead of drawing and studying Japanese. I developed tinnitus from trying to listen to music over the chatter. That summer I became extremely unwell.

My second year of university was even worse. I was placed with abusers. They smoked cigarettes and drugs and the apartment smelled of cigarettes. I eventually got them to stop but they verbally, psychologically and emotionally attacked me and emotionally raped me. I managed to get out halfway through the year but my new house had a very gloomy dark green room and a table too small to put my drawing tablet on. I was extremely depressed while suffering from PTSD and the only thing keeping me alive was my year abroad in Japan. That summer while on holidays in Lithuania I volunteered to teach English at a summer camp which was a good experience.

I went on a year abroad to Kyoto and joined a Yosakoi dance team. My host family's location was inconvenient so I moved to an apartment close to university, but the insulation was bad and it was right next to a busy road so it was very bad for my mental health. Just before I started Yosakoi I was in a shop paying and an old man came up behind me and muttered down my back, 'Hurry up, you scum, scum of the Earth', over and over.

By the time I joined the Yosakoi team I was severely traumatized, so while I really enjoyed it, my trauma was catching up to me. I tried to befriend a guy who I thought I liked (I didn't really have feelings for him, I just thought I did because I didn't remember his face and I wanted to be around someone who would protect me). I accidentally confessed that I had feelings for him (not with the intention of dating him, just because I thought he should know) and he started spreading a rumor that I loved dicks. (More on this man if you scroll down)

I usually had crippling shyness so I tried to be outgoing, but it didn't go very well and many found me annoying.

I fell in love for the first time. I met a man called Yohei and we didn't talk much but it was nearly love at first sight. However he had a girlfriend so anything beyond friendship was impossible...

I was so traumatized by now that I had severe brain fog and body dysmorphia. I bought a brown coat but felt uncomfortable in it so I went around looking for a new one. I was afraid of standing out, I didn't want one that was tacky, I didn't want to pay too much for it and I was terrified of receiving abuse again. I was afraid to ask for help because I didn't want to make a bad impression. I didn't want to be seen in the coat so I put off hanging out with my friends in college. Before I knew what I was doing I ended up spending 2 months looking for one and it ended up on the news. I don't know how it happened, it probably had something to do with Mary McAleese (I heard that she told everyone that I was trying to ruin the world), but it ended up on international news and everybody in the world knew about it. One day people were taking pictures of me and harassing me. Soon, nearly every person that passed me in the street was calling me names. This never ended. When I went back to college after the break the whole college was laughing and making fun of me. I had to hide in my room for the whole year. I don't know why it took me so long to find a coat but I think someone was mind controlling me.

I stayed alive because I was too brain damaged to look at the situation objectively. I had tried so hard to get here and I was just holding onto the hopeless dream of being an artist/ mangaka in Japan. I had never had the chance to live and had come this close to finally living it. Also at the time I didn't know that it had spread all around the world and was hoping that I could live once I got out of Japan. Also later, after a failed suicide attempt, my father told me that if I died it would ruin my mother's life. I was desperately hoping that the abuse would die down. Being the hero didn't work out. I think the AI's running the simulation also stopped me from being able to kill myself.

My dance team was also bullying me. They taught me a word that they said meant 'I'll cut you down' but much later I found out that it meant to rape. This bullying plateau'd in the summer trip when everyone was talking loudly about me (saying mean things) including right in front of me. They hadn't put me into a room, and I was told to sleep in a men's room. They brought me around all the men's rooms until they found one. I think I got raped that night. The next day a member (Jukujo) chased me down the hallway stark naked and another member (Luna) filmed it.

Also, at one of the dance festivals I think I was drugged and raped. Two members (Shigenyan and Jukujo) came into my hotel room at night and gave me something strange to drink. I went to bed after that. I think something happened after that but I'm not sure.

I was afraid of talking to Yohei in public because I didn't want to put him in danger. However I really wanted to talk to him so when I thought he wanted to meet me in private on college campus at night I waited all the time.

Before I went back to Ireland I visited South Korea and Vietnam. I wanted to try going out and was hoping that I wouldn't be harassed. Unfortunately I was harassed just as much but I managed to go out and have a good time.

Back in Ireland I was still getting harassed. Again I couldn't go out and ended up having to drop out of college (I thought it would be temporarily). As well as that I heard the builders outside talk about me non stop.

At home I still couldn't go out so I tried to focus on art. But the abuse was making it hard for me to draw and I couldn't draw well.

I tried to commit suicide many times but couldn't. I had a severe fear of death.

Since going to UCC was too difficult I tried studying animation at IADT instead but the students in my course were really bad bullies (for example I heard one girl say that my (who had been nothing but raped all my life) life would be a porno).

At the end of 2019 I started getting harassed by voices threatening me 24/7. This started just after a failed suicide attempt. I was going to try to make another suicide attempt the following day but they started making threats on my family and friends so I couldn't die anymore. Near the end of this horrific period I decided to try to ignore them, forgive the Japanese and work towards getting back to Japan and bear the voices. It was my dream after all. After I started ignoring the voices they got more aggressive and started threatening to torture me for the rest of eternity.

Then, one morning the threatening voices stopped and nice voices started talking to me. They claimed to be aliens from the future called kthala and they said that this event (the event in Japan) caused something worse than the holocaust and Yohei and I saved the world. But we couldn't save it completely so the kthala went back in time to stop it from happening. They gave me telepathic communication with someone claiming to be Yohei. They said they would protect me and that I had to pack up for the airport and wait for Yohei to come and pick me up, over and over. This lasted for a year and a half and he never came. Then someone injected me with methamphetamine and I ended up in the hospital...

The hospital was hell. I was recovering from the methamphetamine injection and couldn't sit still or concentrate for months. I was being raped (but my memories of it were repressed) and people were calling me all sorts of names. The kthala were lifting me up by telling me all about Heaven and my role as a future Goddess because I wanted to die, but sometimes they would say horrible scary things as well. You can scroll to read more about my time in the hospital.

Now I am still in the hospital and conditions have improved considerably, but the voices are still there.

[billconrad]

Lifetime Goals

    I attended May Scott Marcy Elementary school in San Diego, California. This school was renamed Mission Bay Montessori Academy, but to this day, I do not know who May Scott Marcy was. In the fifth grade, the best teacher was Mrs. Hanson, and she was outstanding, but there was one downside that year. My school took part in an “integration” program; this was the only year for this experiment. One day a week, they bussed our entire class to Chollas-Mead Elementary school (we pronounced it choy-us) way across town. In return, several kids from Chollas Elementary attended Marcy. The kids sent to Marcy kept to themselves because Marcy had little to offer.

    Chollas Elementary was a much larger school with a vastly different student population. It also had elective classes, and I took science, music, and art. I often felt intimidated by these surroundings, but eventually, I made some friends and got used to the experience. I also still have some of the art I created during that time.

    I made friends with one kid who had a prided-filled lifetime goal. He wanted to become a gang member, make a million dollars and buy a low-rider. The student spoke of the certainty of purchasing a low-rider with great pride. Often, he would pop his hand up and down while making the hydraulic “veeet” sound. We shared physical education, and both hated to run, so we walked around the field and talked about stuff.

    When I met him, he was well on his way to achieving this goal. His brothers (real street gang members) told him he needed three things to be accepted into their gang. Know how to count up to one million, be able to add/subtract (simple numbers), and form his own “starter gang.” I found it comical that the reason for counting up to a million was so that he could appreciate how much money he would be making.

    To achieve the last part of his qualification, my friend was the founding member of the “Logan Hills Gang,” the most brutal gang in Chollas Elementary. I never actually met (or knew the names) the other members (despite talking to my friend often), and nobody spoke about the Logan Hills Gang criminal exploits. Every day he informed me how many days until his 15th birthday when his brothers would allow him to “be tested.” If he passed this important criminal/violent test, he would become a member of his brother’s gang.

    My lifetime goal was to be an electrician. He thought this was a stupid goal and that I should join his gang. Apparently, joining the Logan Hills Gang was easy. All I had to do was steal some stuff (from the school) and give it to him. He 100% thought that he was pulling a fast on me. Of course, I was not interested in becoming a gang member, but we still discussed the topic.

    This boy was smart, had a genuine talent for art, and was great at reading. He had a lot of potential at that early age and could have become something great. The only difference between us was that we had vastly different family backgrounds. If circumstances were different, he would have been an outstanding Mechanical Engineer or an art teacher.

    When the school year ended, we parted ways without fanfare. I continued my education and changed my goal to be an Electrical Engineer (the best kind of engineer). Side note. At that young age, I thought electricians did all the electrical work, like repairing televisions. Later, I learned about Electrical Engineering and felt foolish for not understanding this career earlier. Perhaps I would have put more effort into fifth-grade math if I had understood the difference.

    While thinking up blog topics, I thought about this young boy from elementary school. I am sure he achieved his dream of being a full-fledged gang member. I wonder what happened to him. Did he commit crimes and get caught, or did he have a life filled with criminal exploits? Unfortunately, I do not remember his name and cannot look him up.

    This line of thinking made me question my life’s goals and some of my other choices. Is it a worthy goal to become a writer? I’d like to think so. A writer can create something from nothing and powerfully influence history.

    Unfortunately, many prominent writers had already left their mark when I entered the writing field. So, it is challenging to develop original ideas, and many of my “new” ideas were done at least once. However, there has been a revolution in writing. It is much easier to publish. For example, this blog entry costs me nothing. If this were the ‘70s, the best I could do would be to mimeograph a typewriter document and distribute the pages to friends. Now, with the click of a mouse, I can reach the entire world.

    I enjoy sharing my ideas and feeding my creative side. But I still wonder about that boy. Would he ever wish to blog about his experiences? Do prisons allow blogs?

    You’re the best -Bill

    March 18, 2023

    Hey book lovers, I published three! Please check them out.

    Interviewing Immortality, is a psychological thriller about a 500-year-old woman who forces a disgraced author to interview her.

    Pushed to the Edge of Survival, is a drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and live with the consequences.

    Cable Ties, is a classic spy novel about two hunters who discover that government communications are being recorded and ask the FBI to investigate.     These books are available in soft-cover on Amazon and eBook format everywhere.

[choibinn3]

GET IT TOGETHER, JUNGWON!!

[ four. O_o Yang Jungwonnie ]

series masterlist

⋆·˚ ༘ * in which jungwon had meant for that love letter to go to yeri, and not you—her bff. for some reason though, he finds that with each moment he spends together with you he's closer and closer to forgetting all about that damn letter.

luv note - chloe moriondo

WRITTEN PORTION. 1.9k words

btw remember that second hand embarrassment tag?? yeahh....

ps. this is bad, very, very bad and cheesy so be warned (its meant to be, but youll still feel pain lol)

—

student council room.

Jungwon could feel his hands clamming up, but he instead urged himself to just swallow down his nerves. For the past week he thought the biggest worry he had was his parents and Student Council work.

Not potentially losing friendships and breaking your heart.

"Jungwon? Are you still there?" your voice asked. It was slightly muffled by the door, but still distinct. "I had to tell Hyuka to go back without me."

You, he remembered. He had to fix this. He had known you since you were both in kindergarten, incidentally somehow being in the same classes up until High School. Still, he didn't know you though.

You were closer than acquaintances, maybe a little less than friends, and definitely not more than people with mutual friends. With everything that had been happening since the Student Council election, he had assumed he'd get closer to you naturally. It just never happened though, but he enjoyed your company when he could.

Yeri on the other hand, he was connected with. Being both Student Council President and Vice President meant they worked together often, and he found himself being drawn to her sweetness. He enjoyed their dynamic and their current friendship.

The way they worked complemented each other, and she always found a way to make him smile—it seemed as though her kindness and generosity knew no bounds. Plus, she related to him in a way none of his other friends did.

Late, after class and after hours, they'd both talk casually while doing paperwork. Jungwon's parents were hardheaded and stubborn people, wanting the best for him and yet stressing him out. They were the whole reason he ran for President in the first place.

He couldn't find it in himself to hate them though.

Yeri was the same, and she supported him throughout all the difficult times he went through because of them. She was soft, so level headed, fiercely loyal, and unbelievably pretty.

They had been partners and friends for a little over a month, and Jungwon was sure he wanted to at least try with her. It was young, new and unfurling feelings, it was something he wanted to find out.

Your energetic personality was charming, but that was all it was. It didn't strike his heart in any particular way. Jungwon was almost 100% sure there was no way Yeri would ever date him after this, but he needed to prioritize your feelings currently.

He just hoped Yeri and him could still be friends afterwards though—because being a liar was the one thing Jungwon wasn't.

"Yeah," he called out, "still here. You can just come back in now."

He watched as you nervously peeled back the sliding door of the clubroom, inching inside to peer at him. You walked closer to stand in front of him, and Jungwon smiled in hopes of easing your anxiousness.

You threw one back, although a bit hesitantly. "Jungwon," you started, twiddling with your fingers. He simply watched—wanting to at least let you talk a bit. Crushing your feelings now would be nothing but brutal. "Honestly, I was really surprised with the letter. Do you... remember back in 3rd grade?"

"No? I'm sorry, I'm not good with memories from Elementary School," the doe-eyed boy replied. He was telling the truth, grade school felt like ages ago and he just hasn't had the time to reminisce on childhood memories.

You held your hands up in a defensive manner. "That's fine! Um, you like... Uhh, how do I say this..." You made gestures with your figures, hoping to convey it to him in one way or another. God, this was dumb.

Jungwon observed silently as you laughed at your own stuttering. Endearing, came to mind. That was cute.

In the Council Room and in class, you were always particularly enthusiastic and excitable. Seeing you bashful was a very different side of you for the black-haired boy.

"I sent you my own love letter once. Like, a long, long time ago, and you sort of rejected me? I think."

"You think?" The boy held back a laugh, but quickly composed himself. He wasn't laughing maliciously, just... how could you be unsure of such a thing? "I'm sorry, but I still don't remember."

"Yeah, that's fine!" You nodded, embarrassed from his almost-chuckle. You did not want to seem like an idiot in front of him today. "Actually, I don't remember much either, but you didn't reply to it."

Jungwon gazed at your brows furrowed from trying to think of more words to say, and suddenly he felt a tonne of guilt fall onto him. His expression grew solemn.

Quick, get it over with, before this would get any worse.

"Look, YN—"

He had to shut his mouth almost immediately.

"What I'm trying to say is—!" You took a deep breath. "I've liked you since then! Since years, and years ago," you finally blurted, closing your eyes as to not see his reaction.

"You're the only one I've ever felt this way towards. I thought once I grew up this warmth would just... go away, but it hasn't and I don't think it will. I was honestly going to just swallow it all down hoping I'd get over it before we graduate, but I couldn't. My feelings were overflowing—I just found myself finding more things about I liked about you instead."

Your goal today was to not embarrass yourself, but to hastily tell him you liked him too before sprinting away. It seemed as though nothing was going to plan so far, for neither of you, actually.

Jungwon was left unable to speak from your surprising declaration. You took that as a sign to continue. Whatever happened next was something for future you to panic over.

"I like your dimples, that smile you make when you're passing by strangers in the hallway, and the way your hair falls when you comb through it. You're admirable in everything you do, truly. The way you help underclassmen, the way you always make sure to assist teachers during your free periods, and how you never seem to complain or get frustrated when we make mistakes."

You had nurtured your feelings for what felt like forever. Even when you were technically rejected back then, and even now. At first, you thought that he would be a passing crush from when you were a kid—but he wasn't. He grew into his own so much so that you found yourself admiring his leadership, compassion and thoughtfulness with each day you watched him.

"I like how mature you are, how you still find the time to care for your friends even with Student Council work, the natural way you light up any room you walk into, how I could honestly hear your voice talk for hours on end, how even though we haven't spoken much you still remember my favorite color from when I told you during introductions, I'm rambling gahh, just—all of it! I like all of it, everything about you!"

Everyday of harboring your secret affections for the boy consisted of soft glances during his speeches, wishes to be able to encase his hand within yours to interlock your fingers under the table during meetings, and wantings to be more than what you were to him. It was alright for a while, but it had started to become painful.

All crushes are painful, you told yourself in 5th grade, watching him start to receive confessions from your classmates.

"—I like you! I've liked you since the 3rd grade, and so I accept! I really, really want to be with you Yang Jungwon. Please take care of me!"

They were all painful, but you were given the chance to make yours not. To make your feelings real and acknowledged, to bare yourself in front of him like a vivisection—and you were taking it. Even when you were practically trembling from the embarrassment.

Jungwon was stilled from the shock. Heeseung had already told him of your long held feelings, but hearing it from your mouth while you had your eyes shut tight made him flustered.

How were you able to do that so shamelessly? To be so vulnerable and weak in front of someone? He had to write a whole letter, albeit a bit poorly, and somehow you were able to say it all.

He's received confessions before, felt those kind of feelings, but he wouldn't have been able to yell out those sort of things ever—no matter how strong his feelings were. You were dangerously bold, he thought.

Bold enough to send a bright heat to overtake his cheeks.

You looked up finally after mustering enough courage from his lack of speaking, only to find yourself blinking at a red-faced Jungwon. Oh my God, he's blushing...! YOU did that.

The both of you stood there for a while, thinking the same thought of what is even happening? Is this real, or have I just been in a daze for the past few days? Jungwon's eyes were comically wide and his mouth was gaping, but he couldn't find it in himself to close it.

The thought made you gain confidence all of a sudden, finding the opportunity to do something you had always wanted to do. Quickly and stealthily, you went onto your tippy toes—

and kissed him on the cheek.

Jungwon felt your lips on the smooth expanse of his skin, and smelt your scent from the intimate proximity. It was a chaste gesture, almost no where close to his lips at all, but he heard his heart beating against his ribcage nonetheless. It thrummed in his ears like a drum, and he wanted to whisper for it to stop.

For it to not be swayed so easily.

It was the innocence of such a thing that got to him. Not once had Jungwon held hands, kissed, or even confessed to someone up until now. Of course, you suddenly getting so close and pecking him with your hands balled up would send his heart into a flurry.

The usually put together Student Council President in front of you let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat, the tips of his ears and face becoming rosier. His throat was closing up, God, why was his throat closing up? Not now, please. He couldn't even remember what he was meant to be saying.

You smiled at him, happy to be rendering him to such a state. It was one of the most impulsive things you've done up to date, but you couldn't find yourself regretting it.

This was what those coming of age dramas on TV were describing—it was the start of one of those cheesy, really bad High School romances. Fervent, mushy, uncertain, but so tender it made your heart ache for hours even after watching.

As you retreated slowly, he caught a glimpse of your bright eyes, downcast lashes, and—holy shit you were so close. He could see the particular way you curled your lips.

He had to hold his breath.

Jungwon watched as your expression morphed into one of slight mischievousness, and an inkling of something softer, before you dashed out the sliding doors—

"Wait!

The sudden motion made him gain his words back, but you were already through the hallways with your hand on your bag.

—leaving him with nothing but the memory and the patter of your footsteps. So fast, so much speed, were you in track? The past few seconds were nothing but a blur of confusion and feelings he didn't want felt.

What just... What just happened?

previous | next - series masterlist

TLDR (but whyy :( pls read it); jungwon goes to do take backsies on his confession, u kiss his cheek, he goes coocoo bananas!!!

TAGLIST; @lumixen @ghjasksdk @atinyyylove @jjikyuu @yjwooon @ncityy04 @tyunni @littlewolfieposts @xoxojayd3n @rosiechaengz @sunshine-skz @youreverydayzebra @hobistigma @plshhhhhhh @lokideadontheinside @alo-ehas @milkycloudtyg @bangtopia

send an ask or dm

i wanted to emphasize how new his feelings for yeri :] if u could guess what this could mean. alsoooo... did u notice how fast this went ? i intended it to be rushed and "in the moment" like it was in the scene hehe

[dakotacrisis]

Topsy Turvy

Hyper-fixation has been activated! Who needs to work on their wips when they can start something else entirely? Hahaha...it’d be funny if it wasn’t true.

Anyhoo! Saw this cute comic by @hannahyonana and my goblin brain latched on and wouldn’t let it go. So I give you this unofficial expansion of this wonderful comic. In short: these children are disasters in more ways than one.

---

Two weeks. That is how long Adrien would be gone. Two long and painful weeks without seeing his face or hearing his voice. Pictures and videos were well and good but they were no proper substitute for the real thing.

Marinette came to the train station to see him off and steal a few more blessed minutes with him before he departed on his work trip/vacation. She had tried to convince Alya and Nino to come so she wasn’t totally alone with him but they already had plans. Marinette hadn't heard about any plans before this so she could only assume this was another Alya scheme to give Marinette a chance to confess.

Marinette had thought about it. Telling Adrien how she felt would get a lot off this nervous tension and anxiety off her chest. He didn’t even need to respond or give her an answer. Just having him know would be enough.

But could she do it? She had tried countless times before to no avail. What made this different?

Adrien and her walked along the platform full of people bustling to get here and there. Marinette gripped the box of macarons her parents made for Adrien behind her back.

The Gorilla took Adrien’s luggage and carried it onto the train. He looked back to see if Adrien was following.

"You go on ahead, I want to say goodbye real quick." Adrien ushered his bodyguard away. The Gorilla looked between them and with a curt nod of his head disappeared inside the train.

Adrien turned back to Marinette. His hair was stylishly tousled and his smile bright and beaming. Could the boy stop modeling for even a second? How was anyone meant to keep their wits about them with that thousand watt smile?

"Thanks for coming to see me off, Mari." Adrien said.

"Of course," Marinette replied, shuffling from foot to foot. "Even if you're only gone for two weeks…"

She brought the box out from behind her back and held it out to him. "Also, this is for you from my parents. A little something to snack on during the ride."

"What! That's so sweet! Literally." Adrien took the box with glee. "Be sure to give them my thanks."

"I will,"

BEE-BOOP!

The pair looked up at the sudden sound.

"Oh, that means it's time for me to go," Adrien said with a small shake of his head.

Gone again. In just another minute he'd be out of her reach once more. Even after all this time saying goodbye felt so hard. He was only going to be gone for two weeks! He was gonna come back! Why did it hurt so much being away from him?

That familiar weight settled on her chest. So many feelings left unspoken. Secrets she was dying to share. It felt like they were smothering her.

"Before you go," Marinette halted him before he could enter the train, "I have something to tell you."

"Oh yeah?" Adrien tilted his head like a curious little puppy. Why did he have to be so cute? Marinette was sweating he was so cute. Or maybe that was just her inner terror at what she was about to say.

"Well I--you see--I…" Marinette stammered and lost her nerve, "I uh, make sure to send us pictures."

"Of course!" Adrien responded with glee. "Alright well, see you later, Marinette."

He turned to get on the train and Marinette’s heart sank. Another chance at happiness, wasted. Perhaps it was for the best.

She forced her feet to move, to carry her from this painful moment. When they did though they didn't back away. They surged forward. She was barely aware that she had reached out for Adrien until she grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Wait! That's not it!" She proclaimed loudly. Her nerves came out in the shakiness and desperation in her voice. She kept her eyes shut tight. Afraid of what she would see if she opened them.

"The truth is, I'm in love with you!" She  blurted out. She let go of his shirt, her hands fisted into tight balls by her side as she quickly explained, "I'm not expecting a reply. I know you don't like me back. But have a nice trip!"

She turned on her heel and fled. Tears of anxiety or fear stinging her eyes. The last thing she heard was Adrien calling out for her to wait. Once she was far enough away she risked a glance back and saw Adrien’s face staring out the closed door in shock before the train pulled away from the station.

She stared at the now empty train track for a long time before it truly hit her. She just told Adrien she was in love with him. He was going to be thinking about how she told him she loved him for the next two weeks. Then she was going to have to face him knowing all that when he returned home.

Marinette whipped out her phone and called Alya. “I did something stupid and I need help.”

---

Adrien pulled himself away from the train door and sat down in his seat. Marinette’s parting words echoed in his ears. She loves him. She is in love with him.

When did that happen? He knew they were friends but he hadn’t expected her to be in love with him. Marinette…

He glanced down at the box in his hands. Something small and sweet to take with him. A reminder of home. A reminder of someone petite and kind that just spilled her heart out to him on the train platform.

She said she didn’t expect a response but he felt like he owed her one. She had also said she knew that he didn’t like her the same way she liked him. While it was true that Adrien’s heart had belonged to Ladybug for as long as he’s known her he did feel a warmth around Marinette. Was that love? Or was it just friendship?

Nino had a crush on Marinette. Maybe he would know. Adrien pulled out his phone and hit Nino’s number. “Hey, I’m on the train heading out but I had a question about Marinette.”

---

“Oh dear,” Alya shook her head, she covered the receiver of her phone so Marinette couldn’t hear. Not that Marinette could hear anything over the sound of her own panicked ramblings. She turned to Nino on the couch with a sly smile.  “Marinette just confessed to Adrien before he went on his trip and she’s freaking out.”

“Wow, good for her, do you think Adrien will respond?” Nino asked.

“No idea,” Alya shrugged, “It’s a good thing we left them alone though. Marinette finally got the guts to say something to him.”

“Speak of the devil,” Nino held up his phone where Adrien’s contact picture flashed on the screen. He hit answer. “Hey dude, what’s up? Miss me already?”

Alya went back to listening to Marinette and trying to calm her down while Nino talked to Adrien. The both of them were panicking messes as they ranted and lamented at their respective best friends over the phone.

“I don’t really know what to tell you about your own feelings, dude,” Nino told Adrien, “Yeah I had a crush on Marinette but it only lasted a week. That’s kind of how it is with most of the people from our class.”

“What?” Adrien said.

“Yeah, literally everyone has had a small crush on Marinette at one point or another growing up. You’re like the only person who hasn’t. Which is weird considering how much she dotes on you and swoons around you. Did you really not know about her crush until today?”

“No!”

“Ah...then again you have been head over heels for Ladybug I don’t suppose you would have noticed anyone else unless they confessed to you point blank.” Nino said. He had thought that Adrien’s crush on the spotted hero of Paris was something that had been waning recently once he had agreed to go out with Kagami. But when they broke up it had returned full force.

“Marinette, hold on a second,” Alya shushed Marinette on the other line and turned to Nino with wide eyes, “Did you just say that Adrien has a crush on Ladybug?”

“Uh yeah? Why?”

“What’s going on?” Adrien asked.

“Alya is--”

Alya snatched the phone out of his hands. She held up the other phone with Marinette on the line. “Girl, I know you are spiraling right now but I am gonna need to call you back. I swear I will only be like ten minutes max. Goodbye.” she turned to Nino’s phone, “Now you, pretty boy, I’m gonna need you to repeat that for me.”

“That I have a crush on Ladybug?” Adrien answered timidly.

“How long has that been a thing?”

“Since she first showed up in Paris. Why?”

Nino saw the calculations going off in Alya’s head as she processed this information. Had she not known? He was sure she had to have known but apparently that wasn’t the case.

“Adrien, listen to me very carefully,” Alya said, “You are going to want to accept Marinette’s feelings.”

“Listen, Alya, I know that you are her best friend but--”

“No buts, Agreste!” Alya snapped, “Really listen to me here. I know that you have feelings for Ladybug. Who wouldn’t? She’s amazing but she’s also a superhero with a secret identity. Do you really think you can take Ladybug out to the movies or invite her home for dinner? How are you gonna call her? How do you plan on making that work?”

“Well I--”

“Moonlight rendezvous over the rooftops of Paris sound fine and dandy but you know what else is nice? Marinette. Tangible and readily available with romantic feelings already pre-downloaded in her core. You already call her our Everyday Ladybug. What more do you want?”

“I see your point. But that situation is a little more complicated than that.”

“No it isn’t. Do you not think Marinette is great?”

“She is. She really is.”

“Do you not think she is cute?”

“She is very adorable and attractive. I will confess to that.”

“So if Ladybug wasn’t a thing then would you consider dating Marinette?”

“I mean I guess. But Ladybug is still real and she owns my heart. I can’t just give up on her that easily.”

“Adrien, I do not know how to tell you this but you are not giving up anything by dating Marinette. She is every bit as amazing as Ladybug and you would do well to remember that. As a wise man once said, “far better than any dream girl, is one of flesh and blood, one warm and caring, and right before your eyes.””

“Did you steal that from The Little Mermaid?”

“Not the point! Just think on it. You have two weeks before you come back and make a decision. I suggest you use the time wisely and really consider what I’m telling you. I’m not just saying this because Marinette is my best friend but because I know deep in my gut that you two were made for each other. The only one that doesn’t see it is you.”

“You think we’re made for each other?” Adrien’s voice was soft and quiet. It made Alya’s heart melt.

“I do. I think that you two would make each other so incredibly happy.” Alya sighed, “But no pressure or anything. At the end of the day it is your heart and your choice. I’m just asking you to look at all the possibilities before you make a decision.”

“Okay, I’ll think on it. I promise.”

“Good. Now I gotta call Marinette back before she worries herself into a human pretzel. Bye.” Alya handed the phone back to Nino. She dialed Marinette back and wandered into her room for privacy.

“Why did you hang up on me?” Marinette asked. “I am having a crisis here!”

“Girl,” Alya’s face broke into a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat to shame. “You are not gonna believe this. Adrien’s had a crush on you this entire time. Or rather, a huge, massive, fanboy crush on Ladybug that is.”

“WHAT!”

*Two weeks later*

Well that was the longest two weeks of Adrien’s life. He had done what Alya suggested and really thought over his feelings for Marinette and Ladybug. The more he compared them the more he realized how alike they were. He knew he called Marinette their Everyday Ladybug but he hadn’t realized how true that was until now.

His heart belonged to Ladybug but he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel anything for Marinette. Adrien knew that through Alya and Nino’s eyes the answer was obvious. Marinette was their friend and classmate and she was so much closer to them then Ladybug. But they didn’t know that Adrien was Chat Noir. They didn’t know that he had a direct line to Ladybug. They didn’t know he had this already huge connection to her.

So what was there to do? Have a happy civilian life with Marinette and stop his pursuit of Ladybug? Or let Marinette down gently and keep trying to make things work with his Lady? He needed to come to a decision quick since his train was getting closer to the Paris station. What if Marinette was waiting out on the platform? What was he going to tell her?

The train came to a screeching halt that flung everyone forward. What in the world was that? HE scrambled to the window and saw the leg of a huge a robot. An akuma.

He was thinking up an excuse to leave his bodyguard when the roof of the train was ripped off. The giant robot looked in and reached out its hand and started grabbing random people and dropping them into its mouth.

He had to get out of here and transform! He made a bolt for the bathroom but the robot got him first and lifted him off the ground. He struggled to get free but he was no use against thousands of pounds of metal and magic.

“Oh no you don’t!” the robot’s arm lurched away from its mouth. Ladybug stood on a nearby building with her yo-yo drawn tight to keep the robot from dropping Adrien down its gullet. “Rena! Now!”

Rena Rouge leapt out from behind Ladybug and pounced at the akuma. She dug her flute down between Adrien and the clamp holding him captive. With a large heave she pried the clamp open enough for Adrien to wiggle free. She reached to grab him but at that moment the robot had broken free from Ladybug’s hold and the pair of them were thrown off.

“I got ya!” Ladybug swooped down and grabbed hold of Adrien. Rena was quick on her feet made a safe landing down on the ground.

They landed on a nearby rooftop for Ladybug to deposit him. “You okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, never better,” Adrien’s heart was beating wildly in his chest.

“Good,” Ladybug looked back at the akuma with a small frown, “I gotta go take care of this guy but you should be safe here.”

“Alright,”

“By the way you’re really cute and I think we should go to a movie sometime. Bye!” Ladybug said quickly and leapt back into the fight.

“Wait! What?!” Adrien shouted after her but she was already gone. He was so stunned that by the time he remembered he was Chat Noir and should be helping Ladybug and Rena Rouge had already defeated the akuma.

The miraculous cure swept across the city and Adrien was deposited back in the fixed train in his seat like nothing had happened. Well this got a whole lot more complicated!

---

(Part 2)

[ultrahpfan5blog]

Retrospective Review: The Dark Knight Rises

In 2012, TDKR was easily the most hyped film for me. Even more than The Avengers, which had come out earlier that year and taken the BO by storm. I remember going to see the film distinctly because I had made an excuse and left my internship for the day early so I could attend a TDK trilogy screening, with Batman Begins starting at 6, TDK at 9, and then TDKR are midnight. I had never done anything like that before and it was just an electric experience for me. I remember watching each movie and thinking that each movie was the best of the trilogy after watching it. I absolutely loved TDKR when I first watched it. It was easily the biggest and most bombastic movie of the three, but also emotionally involving. Over the years, my opinion has really not changed. I kind of find it annoying that TDKR is considered the "bad" movie of the trilogy, when its a damn good one, with its only fault being that its not as good as TDK. Unfortunately, this movie also ended up being my last midnight screening after the unfortunate shooting in Colorado at the midnight screening, which really changed the concept of Thursday night screenings as the screenings started to get pushed back to the point where for some big movies, the movie basically releases on Thursday. In terms of the third movie in the trilogy, it ranks at the top for me. Granted, there is not much competition for this, with CA: Civil War and Thor: Ragnarok to be the only notable third comic movies of high quality. Both of those movies are great, but TDKR is really the only one of those which is a true trilogy capper given Civil War ended up being more an Avengers film than a Cap film and both Civil War and Ragnorok were more stepping stones to Infinity War/Endgame, then an end of a story arc for any character. To me, this film holds up on rewatch.

TDKR is truly the first film in the trilogy that doesn't stand on its own, by design. Nolan has been on record saying that he never designed these films as a trilogy. Batman Begins really stands on its own as an origin story and if you think about it, TDK stands on its own as well. Because TDKR was intended to be the film that closes out the trilogy, its the only film that ties in events of Batman Begins and TDK as well as having a story of its own. So you do need to know the events of the previous two film to enjoy the intricacies of this film and its also a big, sprawling narrative as a result, with a lot going on, with a big ensemble. For me, that is what makes this film really special. This is a film that has a big cast and all of them are key players in this narrative. This is a film where no one feels like he or she was wasted. The film, like TDK, gives Bane a spectacular opening. The plane sequence is something spectacular, and we truly get a sense of how powerful and fearless Bane and his cronies are, when they make the CIA look weak in comparison. We also see the fanatical belief of Bane's followers and Bane's charisma when his follower doesn't bat an eye when he is told he needs to die in order for people to believe in the plane crash. The film then immediately fades into the new status quo of Gotham. A city where there seems to be s distinct class and financial divide between the rich and the poor. The rich and powerful seem to have used Harvey Dent's legacy as a way to keep crime under control and Bruce is basically in self imposed exile. We se a lot of the key players in the set up even before we see Bruce for the first time. We see a guilt ridden Gordon, still doing his job in a hands on way, his second in command Peter Foley, who is socializing with the rich and powerful, Wayne Enterprise board members John Daggett and Miranda Tate, who seem to have opposing interests with Bruce Wayne, and Selina Kyle, who is initially presented as just a maid. Bruce's reintroduction is brilliant as we see him as a limping, frail man, and there is a brilliant turn in Selina's character, as we see the street smart crook make an appearance. I love that there is a slight smile on Bruce's face after Selina escapes, as if its the first time that he's felt alive in years. It immediately sets up the Bruce and Selina dynamic for the remainder of the film.

The film takes its time to set all the various pieces in play. Before The Batman, TDKR was easily the longest solo superhero movie. I think its the third longest theatrical superhero movie after Avengers: Endgame and The Batman, unless I'm missing something. I feel the additional time is very beneficial to the movie because the film has a lot to set up since there is a big 8 year gap between TDK and TDKR and a lot of things have changed and there are a fair amount of new characters to set up. All the character are interconnected. Daggett ends up being a very key character for the first act of the film since he's the mastermind behind bringing Bane into Gotham and getting Selina involved with stealing Bruce's fingerprints. We also get introduced to John Blake, who represents the idealism that Gordon and Batman once had and lost. He's really our eyes and ears in Gotham in this movie as he is the guy in the midst of it all, even as Bruce/Batman is working his way back into the midst of it. The film delves into the themes of disconnect between the rich and the poor. It definitely feels like a post recession movie, with inspiration from the Occupy Wall Street movement. But the film also feels current with the whole idea of citizen enforced justice, of which we have seen the ugly side of things in real life. There is definitely scenes in the film which feel uncomfortably real now compared to when I first saw the movie.

I love the fact that Bruce is at his most vulnerable in the movie from the very beginning. This a Bruce Wayne that is clearly physically frail, needing a leg brace to get back into becoming Batman, with his finances dwindling and later becoming bankrupt. He feels like a underdog for the first time in the series, because, while he may have faced great many threats, his financial position and power was never under threat. There is also an emotional vulnerability there, because we see the lasting effects of Rachel's death on Bruce and his inability to move on without the mission. This leads to some terrifically acted scenes between Bruce and Alfred, including one leading to Alfred's resignation, which could honestly be a Oscar highlight reel for Michael Caine and Christian Bale. Its one of my favorite scenes in the trilogy. The film turns the themes of TDK on its head. While the end of TDK treated the burial of the truth as the only way to move forward, TDKR shows how that can have unintended consequences that can be even worse. The film kicks into high gear with Batman's re-entrance, the interactions between Batman and Catwoman, and then the confrontation between Batman and Bane, which is honestly the most intense Batman scene till date. The absolute lacking of music and the utter ease with which Bane destroys Batman is phenomenally pictured. Bear in mind, a ruthless defeat of this nature had never been pictured in live action or in animation till then, or since for that matter. The middle act of the film deals with Bane's takeover of Gotham and the ruthlessness of his army and the uprising of the poor against the rich, while Bruce is locked up in Bane's prison, which is a very clever re-imagining of the Lazarus Pit. Its very clever how the pit is where Bruce is sent when he is injured, and he slowly build back his body and his spirit and he climbs out of the Pit rejuvenated and ready to reclaim Gotham from Bane.

The film's last act is honestly my favorite of the series. It is easily the biggest climax of the three films. I liked that Nolan embraced the more pulpy nature of a nuclear threat, full with a ticking clock, yet still kept it from becoming silly. Batman's return and the alliance with Selina and the fight with Bane is a serious amount of fun. The scene where he climbs out of the Pit is euphoric as is the scene where he finally confronts and defeats Bane. There is a real sense of satisfaction when he says "tell me where the trigger is... then, you have my permission to die". The film then implements a twist that did throw me at the time. The fact that Miranda was Talia. In hindsight, I should have suspected it, but I think the movie is quite clever at telling Talia's backstory and making it seem like Bane's, because the film delivers that backstory in short bits so that we don't think too deeply about the sequence of events not making sense for it being Bane who climbed out of the pit. The clues are there, but the film doesn't dwell on them for the audience to really grasp them, especially since there is so much going on at the time. I'm sure others figured out the twist beforehand, but I did get a kick out of it. The final chase sequence is also quite thrilling because we see the Tumblers being used by the league of Shadows, Catwoman operating the Batpod, and Batman operating the Bat, which is the new vehicle for Batman in this movie. Then the entire finale sequence of Batman sacrificing himself and saving the city, the city proclaiming Batman as their hero with a statue of him, Bruce's funeral, Bruce leading Blake to the Batcave with him emulating the iconic shot with the Bats from Begins, Gordon getting a new bat signal, Fox finding out that Bruce in fact fixed the auto pilot system, and Alfred seeing his fantasy come true when he sees Bruce and Selina at the Cafe he frequents in Florence. I like how Bruce lets everyone he cares know about his survival and I love how the end puts all his conversations with Fox about the autopilot in a new light. Its a great ending, with the cute easter egg of Blake being a Robin stand in and a potential new Batman or whatever new hero he chooses to be.

As always, Nolan directs the hell out of this movie. This is easily the most difficult movie to make and I give him a lot of credit that he ties in the themes of all three movies into a coherent narrative. This is not the most tightest script for sure and he makes several leaps of logic that others might have issues with, but the drama behind it is so well executed that I am able to buy into it every time. The Dark Knight Returns, Knightfall, No Man's Land seem to be among his inspirations for this movie. He also mentioned A Tale of Two Cities being an inspiration which is evident. I love little touches like Selina's goggles lifting to give her the cat ears appearance. That was a clever costuming touch. TDKR truly makes his version of Batman into an elseworld story. I know some had complaints with this Bruce walking away from Gotham to be happy at the end, when one of the key elements of Batman is always that there is no happily ever after for him. But I think the idea behind this version was that Batman is able to get Gotham to a place where the citizens no longer have a sense of apathy and are willing to fight for their city, so it no longer needs a Batman. And the way I see it, if Gotham ever descended into chaos, its not like Bruce is dead for real. He could always come back. Hans Zimmer scored this film solo this time and the music is again brilliant. The chant music in the Pit is one of my favorites. I quite enjoyed the dialogue in this movie. Bane in particular has a lot of great lines. The film does a great job filming Hardy in a way where he looks absolutely massive, even though he's not really that big.

Like I mentioned before, this is not the tightest script. There are definitely some messy and some lazy elements in the movie. Like the whole idea of majority of the police force being trapped underground and then somehow being in good enough condition to fight when they come out months later is a little silly. There are some weird time lapses, like it being bright daylight during the stock exchange breakout and within 8 mins its completely dark. There are some awkwardly filmed fight scenes and death scenes. Certainly the Talia death scene feels like it should have been reshot because it just looks weird. While I didn't mind it much, but Bane's death was a little abrupt. The pacing in the middle of the movie slacks a bit with Bruce out in the Pit and the city under Martial Law. But I honestly forgive a lot of these as mostly minor issues because the narrative is a lot grander and the film is juggling a lot of different pieces simultaneously and it does it very well.

The performances are superb. I mentioned in my Batman Begins review that Bale's performance in that is my singular favorite Batman performance. Rewatching this I really got a reminder of how brilliant he was here. He displays a very wide range of emotion in this film and he's quite spectacular, particularly in the scenes in the Pit, which could have been boring if he hadn't carried those scenes quite so effortlessly. His Batman voice is a non issue to me barring one scene. Its overexaggerated in the media because it really lends itself well in certain scenes. Tom Hardy is mesmerizing here. Its very tough to follow in Ledger's footsteps and he has massive handicaps with a mask covering most of his face, but he delivers so much with body language and his eyes. I also honestly love the almost polite voice that he has. It just adds a very sinister edge to him. Joseph Gordon Levitt is terrific as the heart of the film. He's a very rootable character. Anne Hathaway steals every scene she is in. As someone who knew her primarily from The Princess Diaries, I was shocked at how perfect she was. Her transitions from vulnerable to street smart thief are fantastic. She also adds a lot of sly humor to the film and she is missed in the middle section, where she is absent for a while. The series veterans, Oldman, Caine, and Freeman continue to bring it. Caine has some of his best scenes in the movie, as I mentioned previously and both Oldman and Freeman continue to get meaty roles and deliver on every moment. Marion Cotillard is graceful and wonderful as Talia/Miranda, apart from her awkward death scene. Ben Mendelson is excellent as John Daggett. His death scene is pretty outstanding as we see his expression change as he realizes he has lost control over Bane. Matthew Modine gives a solid performance and gets a redemptive arc of his own. Cillian Murphy and Liam Neeson make welcome cameo appearances as Crane and Ra's respectively.

All in all, this was a terrific trilogy caper. I think it ranks right with Begins, just below TDK, in the list of best Batman films, and honestly in the list of best comic book films. Its a lot of movie and its better for it. I didn't feel it stretched on for too long. At times, it gets a bit too sprawling and tries to juggle too much but it eventually lands on its feet successfully. Its definitely a trilogy that has stood the test of time for me. For me, this ranks as a 9/10.

[outofsstyles]

a/n: This is by far THE MOST requested fic I’ve ever had and (a year later) it’s finally here!! First of all, sorry that it took me so long but when I first wrote Wildest Dreams I never intended on it having a follow up, but the amount of love I got from it was so overwhelming that I decided to put this together for you all :) I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit nervous about it, considering the amount of requests I’ve had the past year, I know there’s gonna be a lot of expectations and I wanted to do something a bit different so it’s not too predictable lol. So yeah, as always, feedback is very much welcomed!! If you enjoy please reblog it to support my writing, it would mean the world to me <3

word count: 13.7k

warnings: none!

concept: It’s Evan’s birthday and he decides to do something a bit different.

Wildest Dreams: read part 1 here :)

                                               ~*~ ~*~  ~*~

In the last two steps, you have to use your leg to support the box as it starts to slowly slip down your fingers. This serves as a reminder to start exercising again now that the midterm is over — meaning that you should finally give in to Nia’s pleas to join her in the free week of Pilates classes she got when signing in at the gym, “Exercising is one of the best ways to relieve stress!” She would argue, to which you’d simply reply with something along the lines of: “So does binging another trashy reality tv show!”

Thankfully, no one seems to notice your struggle, sparing you the embarrassment of listening to their teases due to your difficulty in carrying one of the smallest boxes of the bunch. Nate barely glances at you once you finally reach the car to hand him the box, only shooting the longest smile you’ve ever seen coming from him—which somehow still manages to be probably the quickest when compared to any other regular person. His girlfriend, who stands with hands on her hips, entirely held his attention. Nia’s purple strands of hair poke out of her half-bun in every direction and her bottom lip has found its permanent spot between her teeth as her eyes fixate on the vehicle in front of her, barely blinking.

“Everything alright, Ni?” You prompt, trying to even your breathing. “Forgot something? There’s still time to check.”

“It’s not that.” She mumbles, shaking her head to break out of her thoughts. “My keyboard doesn’t fit.” Nia nods at the instrument lying on top of the car’s ceiling.

“Oh,” You say, frowning your lips as you take in her stressed figure. Clearing your throat, you attempt to blurt out a joke, “Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t move it and stay right here in our little flat with creaky doors.”

She breathes out a sharp laugh, finally looking at you as she drops her arms. “Don’t start.” She warns, “You promised; no crying today.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good at holding back the tears.” You give her a soft smile, pulling her smaller frame into a hug. The sudden reality of your best friend and roommate leaving you hitting you at once. “Gonna miss you, Ni.”

You feel her sigh into your shoulder, arms circling around your middle. “I’ll be ten minutes away.”

“Not the same.”

“I know.”

The two of you sway in silence for a moment, and you watch from over her shoulder as Nate attempts to awkwardly pick up the keyboard, almost dropping it on the sidewalk in the process. He grunts, the instrument tilting in his arms, and you giggle as you hear Nia sigh once more. Tightening your arms around her, you release each other as she turns to check on her boyfriend who holds the instrument as you would a newborn — except this one is half his size and hard as a wood plank.

He glances between the both of you, helpless. “Uh, where does this go?”

“You can put it with the other big boxes upstairs, babe. We’ll take them Sunday.” Nia says, moving to close the trunk. She looks back at him, calling back in a sing-like voice before he disappears inside, “Thank you!”

You lean back against the car, a playful pout plumping your bottom lip. “Am I only seeing you again on Sunday, then?”

“Nope, I’ll pick you up for Evan’s birthday — did you forget about it already?”

You have. “Of course not. It’s on — tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow?” Nia gasps, eyes widening. “Holy shit, tomorrow’s Friday.”

You nod slowly, just as shocked as she is about how quickly the past couple of weeks have flown by. Between piles of book reports and stress-tear-stained essays during midterms week, you also had to find some time to help Nia with packing boxes while searching for a new roommate for yourself. If you managed a five-hour sleep on these past days, that would have been a well-rested night. So you can’t really blame yourself for forgetting about Evan’s birthday when Nia herself had it slipping through her mind.

“This is an emergency,” Nia says, eyes focusing on a point beyond you and, you feel like, if you listen close enough, you can hear the engines inside her head working. “I’ll have come here earlier so you can help me with my outfit.”

You chuckle. “What even is the theme this year?”

“He didn’t tell me,” Nia says in a huff. “But, on the bright side, I don’t think this year he’ll do anything too crazy — he was too busy these last couple months with that short film I told you about, remember?”

“Evan doing something low key? That’s a first.” You raise your eyebrows, skeptical.

“I mean, I don’t know. I’m just guessing.” Nia shrugs, picking at her nails. “I’m only saying because he mentioned once he was only inviting, like, twenty people.”

Now, this is a surprise. “I’m glad I made the cut, then.”

It’s not a secret to anyone who’s ever had any kind of interaction with Evan that he’s fond of the dramatics of life — his bright-colored outfits with mismatching patterns being the first example that comes to mind — and that reflects as well in his events. Especially when it comes to his birthday.

To be fair, you’ve only actually been to two birthday parties of his so far — considering the invitation usually finds you because he’s close to Nia and sees you as some sort of extension of her. Nevertheless, they were both impactful enough that left a clear impression of how much he enjoys celebrating himself. Last year in particular you remember quite well. It was what he called “Evaney” themed; being a mix of himself and his favorite artist: Britney Spears. And, while you and Nia showed up as one of at least fifteen different variations of the Baby One More Time schoolgirl outfit, Evan pulled a perfect match of the Oops! I Did It Again red bodysuit that he got one of his fashion student friends to tailor for him, as well as freshly dyed beach blonde hair to suit it. He even went as far as photoshopping pictures of himself on Britney’s body and had them printed on posters hung on every single room of the house. There were even custom-made cups and napkins with them — two of them that Nia stole at the end of the party still sit somewhere in your kitchen to this day.

Another particular thing you remember quite clearly was that there were enough people crowded in his living room to fill up your entire apartment, as you recall. And that’s about how a typical event at his home is like — even on his friendsmas dinner there were much more than just twenty people eating turkey out of disposable hot pink plates. So, Nia’s information leaves you wondering what he could have in mind for tomorrow with such a limited list of people.

Before you can voice your wonders to her, though, Nate pushes through the entrance door again. You can tell he, much like you minutes ago, is trying to cover his heavy breathing. “I left it on top of those big boxes with a bunch of books in ‘em.”

“Brilliant! Thank you, baby.” Nia grins, wrapping an arm around his middle. “By the way, we just remembered Evan’s birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow already?” Nate asks, and you hold back a giggle at the way his face scrunches in discontent. He hates going to Evan’s to a point that’s nearly comical. “Fuck’s sake.”

“And I think I’ll come here early so we can get ready together.” Nia nods towards you.

Nate grunts. “Do I have to go this time?” 

“Of course, darling.” She rises to her tiptoes to pinch his cheek, to which he brushes it off.

Nate looks at you, and you only send him a tight smile in solidarity. The two of you share similar experiences with Evan, considering the only reason either of you even gets invited is that because you’re close to Nia, and she’s close to Evan. Although you like Evan, even if you’re not that close with him, you can still put on your social mask for a couple of hours and have fun at his parties. Nate, on the other hand, is likely the least sociable person you’ve ever met, and it’s obvious how uncomfortable he gets every time. 

Nia seems to sense how tense he gets as well, because she steps in front of her boyfriend, finding his eyes with her doe-like ones. “I mean, if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

He sighs, “Of course I’ll go with you.” He looks up at you. “Maybe this time we can actually count how many faces of his we can see from the couch.”

This time you don’t hold back a giggle. “I have a feeling we’ll have an easier time this year.”

“Hope so.” Nate taps on Nia’s back. "Let's go, then? Is everything you need in the trunk?”

“Yup.” She answers, circling the car and opening the door to the passenger’s side. Before entering, she gives you one last look. “Do you want me to bring anything for you tomorrow?”

“I’m good.”

“‘kay!” She enters, closing the door behind her in a click and leaning over Nate to wave at you from his window. “See you tomorrow! Don’t cry too hard tonight!”

“I won’t!” You wave back.

Watching as the car pulls back, before driving away and disappearing around the corner, there’s a light breeze that raises goosebumps on the exposed skin of your arms. You cross them under your chest, leaning back into the wall of your building, not quite ready to go back to your empty home yet. The seconds blend into minutes and you stand there The promise you made to Nia not even a minute ago already pooling in your eye, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep it anyway, you let it tickle its way down your cheek.

A rougher gust of wind hits you and, this time, you turn to go inside.

                                              ~*~ ~*~  ~*~

The days are still not long enough so that the sun can shine proudly at seven in the afternoon, but as spring just about rounds the corner there’s still a golden glow as the rays provide one last warmth before disappearing on the horizon. And that’s how the sky greets you once you step out of your building to make your way towards Evan’s house for his birthday.

As planned, Nia arrived at yours with plenty of time so the two of you could help each other get ready, a bag filled with clothes she’s just taken to Nate’s yesterday under her arm for you to help her choose. “I’m thinking something monochromatic tonight.” She said as she walked in, making you jump in your spot on the couch as you didn’t hear her using the spare key. “I’m just not sure what color.” 

She ended up choosing red. There was an old box of red hair dye you found lost inside the bathroom cabinet after Nia left — along with two different brands of shaving cream, although those belonging to Nate — and, after presenting it to her, she decided to go all for it, taking it as a sign. Nate showed up just about an hour after his girlfriend, still in his work attire and barely batting an eye at Nia’s new hair color as she blew dried it. The only comment leaving his mouth being, “You look like a tomato,” before kissing her forehead and excusing himself for a nap while the two of you finished getting ready.

What neither of you realized was that Nia’s last-minute decision took more time than you predicted, giving you barely enough time to get dressed. To her, that wasn’t exactly an inconvenience considering she had an outfit ready to match any color she wanted — in this case, was a red-dyed denim two-piece. and a matching jacket that ended up discarded after she noticed it covered her newest shoulder tattoo (though you tried to argue she could just have Nate carry it so she could wear it considering she eventually would get cold at some point). To you, however, was more of a stressful task, seeing you hadn’t taken in mind to think of an outfit beforehand. So you ended up just going with the safest option that didn’t give you a lot of room to overthink, choosing to finish your makeup on the way so Evan wouldn’t have any of your heads on a plate for being late.

You’ve found that applying mascara on a moving vehicle is not the easiest task, as Nia holds your elbow to help you keep steady while talking nonstop with the driver about a topic you stopped paying any mind to about ten minutes ago.

“I’m loving our black and red moment, by the way.” She turns to you, loosening her hold as you finish the last coat. “You look like one of those hot businesswomen with your teenage daughter who likes to dress like an animated character.”

You laugh at her comparison, only now noticing the discrepancy between both your outfits. Without even realizing it, you also ended up going for the monochromatic look. Except unlike Nia’s, yours completely lacks any color. “That’s actually the best comparison you could make.”

“I know — You can take a left right here — Here, I have lip gloss.” Nia fetches a small tube from her jacket (that she ended up taking, after all), presenting it to you.

“Do you not have lipstick?”

“Are you not planning on smudging it later?” Nia wiggles her eyebrows, teasing. The hint behind her words makes you roll your eyes, snatching the lip gloss from her hand without bothering to give her an answer. There was about a month or so, just before winter rolled around, that Nia felt as if she had a mission to get you with someone. You suspect, knowing too well how her mind works, that she must’ve felt some sort of guilt for what happened during her film project last year. It was clear that her attempts came from a place of good heart, but this doesn’t mean that it made them any less annoying. However, after her plans to move in with Nate became more concrete, her cupid persona seemed to have disappeared, or so you’d thought. But now that there’s nothing else filling her mind anymore, it looks like she’s back at it, and you can’t help but snort. “What? I’m just saying-”

“You say a lot of things, most of them are incorrect.” You say, “I’m not smudging anything tonight. Not on a party with twenty people, for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t say that before — right there! The big house on the corner!” Nia leans over the console, signaling to the driver where to park. It’s so sudden that you notice how he jumps just slightly from his seat, chuckling to yourself at how Nate snaps his eyes at her. 

The front of Evan’s Victorian home is unusually quiet once you step out onto the sidewalk. So much so that, if it weren’t for the lined cars parked along the street and filling his driveway, you would’ve thought you’d typed in the wrong address. 

The discrepancy is clear to you when compared to other gatherings Evan hosts in his house, but especially for his birthday. Last year, you could hear Toxic blasting from his place from the moment you turned on his street, and a small crowd gathered on his front yard — most of which you recall being comprised of people plastered out of their minds, particularly one semi-naked man who was using one lamppost as a strip pole while swinging a stuffed snake

That’s more or less the standard one could expect when invited to a party at Evan’s. So, to find the street as silent as any regular day is, to an understanding, odd. 

“Are you sure it’s the right date?” You ask as the metal creak of the front gate mends with gushes of wind whistling through the air.

“Yup,” Nia says simply, walking in front of you. “You can hear the music inside, shush.”

You come quiet, listening in, and, surely, you can hear the faint keys of a piano coming from the other side of the stone walls, but it only brings up more questions to your head than answers. Evan seems like the last person on Earth who would listen to classical music. Deciding not to voice your question this time, you follow short behind Nia, kicking some loose stones on the gravel path leading to the front door.

There’s no need for more than a single knock for it to open almost immediately, revealing a lace-clad Evan downing the last bits of his wine. Without the barrier you can hear the music more clearly, the keys of the piano meshing in a peculiar way, not like anything you’ve ever heard in a classical song— at least not ten years ago when you tried to learn piano for a year before giving up.

“Look at my favorite people!” Evan says with his purple-stained lips, pulling Nia for a hug with the arm that’s not holding the door open while pointing at a spot behind her. “Did you greet Jonathan when you passed him? It’s his birthday as well.”

He points to a spot where a gnome statue sits in the dry grass, face painted in clown makeup. Nate’s voice comes from behind you, “Christ.” 

“Nate!” Evan chirps, going straight for the man standing with a sharp smile and throwing his arms around him. “You know you’re my favorite grumpy, right?”

Nate only taps on the shorter man’s back, quickly moving to Nia’s side as soon as he’s free from the embrace. With that, Evan turns to you, hands finding your elbows as he takes you in, “And what have you been up to, bug? It's been ages.”

“You know… Books and… Stuff.” You chuckle, brushing it off. “Happy birthday, E.”

“Thank you!” He claps his hands together. “Now, c’mon, let’s get all of you started.”

Following him inside, you’re met with a glittery box standing right next to the entrance; rolls of tape seal it shut, and a hand-sized hole has been cut on top of the lid. You try to peek at what could be inside, but strings of colorful crepe paper are stuck to the hole, making it harder to know its contents.

Evan picks up the box, holding it to his side. “So, I need each of you to grab a piece of paper inside the box. There will be a number in it but for now just hold on, drink, and chat while waiting for further instructions.” His voice lowers at the end to give his words more of a mystery behind them.

Nate tenses in front of you and you have to keep yourself from chuckling at his desperate gaze moving from the box to his girlfriend as he moves uncomfortably on his feet. Nia, however, only gives him a pat on his back, barely looking at her boyfriend as she does a little dance in excitement. “Oh, this feels fun.” She says, quickly reaching her hand inside the box and retrieving a piece of paper. “Mysterious, but fun. What do you have in mind, sir?”

“Nothing too crazy this year, darling, you can relax — We’re all too tired.” He moves the box towards Nate, who reluctantly reaches inside. “Just something to mesh people together that won’t give me too much of a headache to clean tomorrow.”

“Smart.” You say, peeking at the box as it’s presented to you before reaching for a paper inside, quickly reading the number eight written on it before folding the piece between your fingers.

“Nice! As always, drinks in the kitchen. We’re starting in ten minutes!” Evan claps, hushing the three of you further inside.

Surprisingly, this time around there are no posters of his face in sight as you follow Nia and Nate to the kitchen. There’s a mild mash of voices coming from the living room — where the sound of the piano is the loudest, and you wonder if he got an actual piano or if it’s just a Bluetooth speaker —, but it’s not nearly as loud as you’re used to from past times. The lighting has been lowered to a buttery yellow; you realize once you enter the kitchen that feels too bright to your eyes in contrast to the hallway.

“Is there any alcohol?” You wonder out loud, and Nia glances at you with her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. “What? I’m just asking ‘cause everyone is unusually quiet.”

“There’s wine and — what are these guys right here?” She picks up one out of four plastic jars sitting on the kitchen island, reading the label stuck to it out loud, “Strawberry Mary — ooh, this looks fun.”

You reach for the other three to check their contents, but all have names similar to the one Nia now fills her cup with — fruity, yet mysterious: Lana Banana, Jenny Berry Mix, and Pineapple Suzan. “Did he come up with these?” You chuckle, reaching for the berry mix.

“It was probably Adam,” Nia says, and you frown. “That bartender guy? The one with the pet snakes.”

“Oh, yeah. I know him.”

The room comes quiet as you serve yourself, and only after you glance up you realize a tension lingering in the air. Nate stands awkwardly in a corner, eyes fixed on Nia as he moves his head around subtly. Glancing between the two of them, you notice how their expressions change as they keep their eyes locked, not a single word being uttered out loud. To you, it almost feels as if they are reading each other’s minds, and the heat of their silent argument becoming clear once Nate huffs, shaking his head. 

Nia clears her throat, seemingly uncomfortable, shooting you a knowing look. It’s only when she gives you a toothless smile that you realize the silent question behind it. “Uhm, I’m going to check if there are any sweets outside.”

Beelining towards the doorway, you quickly make your way out of the room. The hallway is empty and, from where you stand awkwardly in the middle of it, you can tell Evan’s left his spot by the front door, meaning he’s likely gone to the living room where the rest of the guests are. You can hear them chatting, although like you previously pointed, the voices are much more controlled than what you’re used to, and that makes you oddly flustered by the thought of walking in alone. 

Considering the limited amount of invitations this year, the chances of you knowing anyone are slim and, to add to your sudden nervousness, most of the people from Evan’s closest circle of friends are — like himself — inexplicably intimidating. This is mostly because it feels like this unspoken competition that everyone has settled with each other, to subtly brag about your success whilst simultaneously pretending to be impressed about the other’s accomplishments. And for you specifically, considering you’re not part of this artist clique that they lock themselves into, it feels particularly tiresome to be part of those interactions. 

So, you opt to wait for Nia, pretending to admire one peculiar painting hanging on a wall opposite to where the doorway leading to the living room stands. Every so often, you catch yourself glancing over your shoulder one way or the other, either towards the kitchen to check if your friends are joining you, or to the doorway where the rest of the guests are in. At one point, the voices get louder, joining in a laugh before tangling together in a mess of noise you can’t make sense of. It’s after a minute that you hear footsteps coming from the living room, making you freeze on your spot, carefully turning your back to whoever’s about to catch you avoiding the party, and focusing on the piece you’ve been staring at for the past five minutes.

The painting you first thought was just random strokes of earth tones abstractly put together you now realize it’s a man and it doesn’t take you more than a second or two to recognize Evan’s side profile in a peach shade. Your hand claps on top of your mouth as you fight the urge to laugh. The sound comes out muffled, but it stops as you hear the footsteps falter as they turn into the hallway. Keeping you back to them, you listen as the wooden floor creaks as whoever was approaching makes their way back. You peek to catch sight of who it might be, but all you make out is the shadow of mustard corduroys turning the corner.

As if on cue, Nia and Nate finally appear from the kitchen, thankfully neither appearing to be sour after the talk in the kitchen. 

“Finally.” You say, still feeling giggly from your finding. “Nate, you have to check this-”

“Okay! Let’s start, then. Do we have everyone in the living room?” Evan’s voice interrupts you as he calls out. Nia guides you along with her to the living room. And, as soon as the three of you enter, Evan nods at you, before continuing, “Now that all the bunnies are trapped, we shall begin!” He laughs, clapping his hands together before motioning vaguely to everyone. “Before I explain what I have planned, I want to pair you all. So, I’ll call out the numbers that each of you picked when you arrived, so everyone can find their pair.”

You frown, confuse yet curious about what Evan’s up to as he calls out the numbers. Now that you stop to glance around the room, you note how there are more people than you’d expected. It’s still not nearly as many as previous parties of his, but it still feels like the room is nicely filled, maybe just a dozen people above twenty. And amongst them, there’s quite a few you recognize as they pair up together — like Georgia, the first one to be called, whom you spent a good half of the New Year’s party with, or Taylor, who gets paired with Nia (you remember him particularly from a film festival that Nia had been part of — he produced and directed a short film comparing the second wave of feminism to the wildlife in the Amazon Rainforest, and Nia couldn’t stop complaining about how bad it was for the entire week after). 

It’s when Evan jokes with someone on the other side of the room, however, that you see him.

He’s tucked in a corner, right next to the bookshelves, arms crossed under his chest in a way that makes his tattoos pop out of his biceps, something you notice even standing on the opposite end of the room. His smile is subtle as he watches the scene in front of him, but it’s still enough for a dimple to poke at one side of his face -- it’s barely there, but you’ve seen it up close enough times that you notice those details. His hand holds a drink, but you pay no mind to it because what calls your attention is the mustard corduroy hugging his hips, the same one you watched run from you not only five minutes ago.

He laughs, and you avert your eyes, mouth still hung open. You wonder if anyone will notice if you leave.

But, as though he could read your mind, Evan calls the number written on that sits crumbled inside the pocket of your jacket. “Where are my number eights?”

You step forward and, like a magnet, your eyes glue on Harry as he raises his hand. 

Shaking your head in disbelief, you have to fight against an urge to shut your eyes tightly as the regret of having left your room at all tonight becomes almost overwhelming. All you expected for the night was to forget about book reports and endless essays piled up on your computer, to relax, maybe drink a bit more than you should while watching Evan’s friends dancing with a taxidermy beaver or something of sorts (that was on his friendsmas party two years ago). Instead, here you are on what feels like the first day of class dynamic your teacher has imposed to make everyone interact with each other. And, suddenly, the long pages of (insert boring book) don’t seem that bad right now.

And to make matters worse (because the universe just likes to add a little more spice to your tragedies) of all people standing in this living room you just had to be paired with the one with whom you had a fling-like relationship six months ago.

It’s awkward before he even approaches you, the tension making you fidget in your spot anxiously, barely being able to shoot a tight smile his way. 

The last time you saw Harry was through the rearview mirror of a car, standing on the sidewalk like an abandoned puppy with his tail between his legs. Though you admit you let your dramatics take away when you turned away from him to leave, the feeling behind it was genuine. You were upset. He had led you on, after all, made you think he wanted to have something more just to ignore you for months and, later, appear with a redhead under his arms and call her his girlfriend. So, yes, it wasn’t the best note to leave on.

But despite how you left the last encounter, the spark of nervousness that shoots through your stomachs right now doesn’t come exactly because of his presence, but more so for the awkward nature of this encounter. At the time it happened, you avoided any activity that had the slight possibility of seeing him again like the plague. You were hurt, and you were mad — though the second part was more directed at yourself than at him. But that was six months ago. After all, as much as you felt enchanted by him and as much as those two weeks you spent together were nice, that’s all that it was: two weeks. Yes, you were sad and, yes, maybe you shed a tear or two while watching Love, Rosie with Nia afterward, but that passed as quickly as it came.

That is, until now.

“Your hair is shorter” This Is all you blurt out when he stands in front of you again.

“It is, yeah.” Harry runs his hand through his hair. The strands that last time you saw him, curled around his jawline, now peek just under his earlobe. “Did it myself, actually.”

“Really?” You take a big gulp from your drink, gaze going anywhere but meeting his own. “Found yourself another talent.”

“Another?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I mean, besides acting.” You grin, holding the cup to your lips and sparing him a glance. “Suppose after your debut you’ve gotten yourself busy with casting calls”

“Of course” Harry laughs. Now that you’re closer you have a better look at his dimples as they pop out, as well as the constellation of freckles hugging his nose, and the mole right under his lips. You avert your eyes again. “I’m set to be the next Bond, in fact”

“Oh, wow.” You raise your brows, grinning at the brim of your cup. “I can see it.”

He turns to you, “Can you?” You peek at him. "Why is that?”

This is exactly what you were afraid of all those months ago after last seeing him. The entire reason you ran from any possibility of seeing him again afterward. You can still remember clearly how much of a flirt he is, even when he doesn’t mean to be. It’s not a secret that Harry’s a charming man. His words are like honey, and when he uses them just right, you know is enough to have you melting. And it doesn’t help how well you seem to click together. Even now, you still feel it by your impulse to flirt back, to look him in the eye, and get just close enough to feel the scent of his cologne. Do all that just to turn away in the last second. Tease him the same way he did you. But you don’t do any of that, of course, because you’re as petty as you are bitter. So, instead, you click your tongue. “Don’t get too comfortable, Harry, bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about that.”

He chuckles. “What girlfriend?”

This time you turn fully at him, brows shooting up not in defiance, but surprise. “Yikes.” You say before you’re able to hold back.

“Yikes.” Harry still holds a smile when he repeats it, head falling as he lets out a — nervous? — laugh.

A question pops into your head. One that lingered in your mind for a good while now, but comes back a bit louder now that you have the information that his relationship was short-lasted after all. It’s a short one, but one that requires a long answer, you suppose. What happened? You think. But you don’t dare to voice it, you don’t want to have this conversation with him. Whatever the explanation is, it’s not going to change anything. So you just avert your gaze back to Evan, who now calls for everyone’s attention again.

“I know you’re all dying to know what this is all about. So, I’m going to explain it all.” And with that introduction, Evan dives into a monologue you only pay half mind to. It’s hard for you to focus on the words rapidly leaving his mouth as you can feel Harry glancing at you every so often from the corner of your eye. You listen in to Evan describing himself as a feisty kid and mention his love for drama, and then you feel the ghost of Harry’s arm bumping against yours as he sways on his feet. You try to pay attention to the story being told of the events leading up to this birthday party, and then you have to hold yourself back from meeting Harry’s eyes once you feel them at the side of your face once again. He makes a comment under his breath that you don’t quite catch, and you’re about to question him before Evan’s voice comes in an even higher pitch. “I wanted tonight to be exactly that: chaotic. I didn’t want anything to quite make sense, and I didn’t want to think much, if I’m honest, last year of film school is taking a big chunk of my functioning neurons and m’dad’s whiskey collection is taking the rest of them.”

There’s a collective laugh that takes place and, once again, Harry’s eyes peeking at you. “Everyone can relax, it’s not one of those murder mystery parties, as I’ve heard some people guess — for fuck’s sake as if I have the time and patience to plan something like that.” He says with a sip directly from a wine bottle you just now realize he’s been holding. “It’s a scavenger hunt, you have a partner and an envelope with clues. Each pair will find something related to moi and after it’s all done, we’ll eat burgers and talk about me for the rest of the night.” 

“Sounds easy enough.” Harry mumbles.

Evan claps his free hand on his wrist, hushing everyone. “So off you go, c’mon! I’ll be hungry in an hour.”

“This is gonna be…” You start. “Interesting.”

“Interesting is a great word to describe it.”

“Well, let’s try to do this as quickly as possible, then.” 

 The side of his lips quirks up. “On a rush?”

“This is not exactly a comfortable position to be. I think you get it.” You say, fidgeting on your feet. You wait for a second for him to say something so you can start the activity, but he doesn’t and you realize there’s a piece missing. “Do you have an envelope?”

Harry nods, reaching for his pocket where the envelope sits folded in half. He swiftly opens it, taking out a card.

 “Well?” You prompt, “Read us the first clue, Bond.”

There’s a smile that Harry fights against at the nickname and you’re not sure due to the dim light, but you think there’s a hint of a rosy tone on the apple of his cheeks. “An activity that grows lives and ruins manicures.” He reads out loud, pausing for a moment before laughing to himself. “I know this one.”

“Grows lives?” You frown. “As in, a pregnancy?”

Harry shakes his head, leading the way towards the corridor. “As in, gardening.”

“That’s a very weird way to put it.” You say, following him. “Does he garden?”

He walks into the kitchen, greeting two people you don’t recognize who are searching for something — their clue, you assume — inside the cabinets. “No, but his sister does. There’s a greenhouse in the back.”

You simply hum in response, muttering a quick thank you as he opens the door for you that leads to the back garden. The greenhouse is not unfamiliar to you from the outside, there have been a good amount of summer gatherings in his back garden for you to know of its existence. But you’ve thought nothing more about it. If you’re honest, you never really paid much attention to it. If anything, you assumed he used it as storage at most, never taking Evan as someone who enjoyed gardening. Though now you know you were right, you've also learned that his sister lives with him and you wonder why he’s never mentioned it before.

The curiosity inside of you wants to question Harry about it, to ask him what else he knows you don’t. When you think about it, there’s a lot you want to ask him about. Not just regarding Evan, but also regarding him. You wonder what he’s been up in the past six months if he ended up adopting the kitten he’d told you about back when you were still filming or if he read any of the book recommendations you wrote on his notes app one particular night the two of you chatted for longer than the moon could hold itself up in the sky. The part of you that begs for you to say something on the short walk is so strong you have to physically bite your tongue to be able to hold back.

You don’t have to hold for long, however, as Harry takes it upon himself to say, “So,” He starts, clearing his throat, “How- uh- how are you doing?”

Somehow, his words click something inside of your mind. They remind you of why you shouldn’t let that curious part of you win. The sole purpose of it not falling for his charm. You shake your head, “We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He frowns, his steps faltering for a second.

“Small talk.” You answer, focused on your goal. “We’ll just solve this thing as quickly as possible so I can go back home and finish my Euphoria marathon.”

“Right.” Harry nods once, and you can’t help but notice the way his lips quirk down, the frown not leaving his face. You can’t lie and say it doesn’t make your stomach drop the slightest bit to see you’ve upset him, but you have to remind yourself how much he’s upset you, too. 

It’s protecting yourself, you think. After tonight, you don’t have to see him ever again.

Inside the greenhouse, you’re greeted with a mix of scents you’re not prepared for before stepping in. The space is compact, with a single corridor narrowed with garden beds on each side. Dozens of branches and leaves tickle you as you walk in, most of them belonging to different flowers that, despite the chilly weather that still lingers outside, are already blooming. It’s a blend of colors, bright reds, and ocean blues, soft purple petals kissing pink and yellow ones. 

“We should look for gloves.” Harry’s voice startles you, chuckling as you jump a bit.

“Huh?” 

“Gloves.” He says. “I think whatever we’re looking for has to do with the gloves, ‘cause he mentioned manicure.”

“That makes sense.” You look around. Many gardening tools are piling under the tables that hold the garden beds; watering cans and empty pots. You look between bags of fertilizer and drawers filled with shovels. There’s so much stuff to look through that, at one point, you sit back on your calves, glancing around, lost.

You hear Harry leafing through as you’re doing, feeling his legs brushing against your back as he passes by and you stop, watching him from your spot on the floor. He’s got a concentrated look on his face, bottom lip worried between his teeth as he scans through the walls before he opens another drawer. That’s when his gaze falls, catching yours. You quickly turn away, pretending to go through another pile of empty pots and blocking the sound of a chuckle coming from his spot.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clicking of ceramics and the opening and closing of wooden drawers. That is until you hear from Harry, “A-ha!”

You look up again, seeing him move to the back where few pairs of gloves hang on the wall — so obvious yet still hidden between raincoats and summer hats. “Right under our noses.” You say, getting up.

Harry searches inside the gloves, tongue trapped between his teeth. “Bingo!” He says, pulling out two tiny bottles from inside one pair.

“What is it?”

“Liquor.” He grins, peeking at you from under his lashes before ripping a piece of paper attached to it. “It says ‘one for each, now get to clue number two.’” He holds up one bottle, offering it to you, to which you take it. “It’s chocolate flavored.”

“Of course it would be a drinking game.” You open it, feeling the artificial chocolate scent braid with the alcohol. “Christ.”

“Don’t smell it, or it’ll be worse,” Harry says, downing his with one quick tilt of his head. “‘S not that bad, actually.”

You mimic his action, letting the drink swiftly burn its way down your throat. Unlike Harry, you can’t help but scrunch your nose at the taste. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Harry only giggles in response, taking the empty bottle from you and placing it back inside the gloves, along with his own. 

And then again, silence. You turn to the flowers to find some comfort.

A family of tulips glances back at you, their petals in a full red, it’s the kind of beauty you’re scared to ruin if you touch, so you just rest your hand on the wood. “They’re beautiful.” You only notice you say it out loud when Harry hums back in agreement.

“They are.” He says quietly but somehow feels loud by how close he is. “Tulips are my favorites.”

You stop, brows raising incredulously at him. “No, they’re not.”

“What?”

Cursing the universe for playing with you like this, you can’t help but laugh at the situation. “It’s just- they’re my favorites, too.” You look at him. “My nan used to plant them when I was little.”

“That’s sweet.” He says, smiling and you nod. “The red ones represent true love.” He points. “And the purple ones represent royalty.”

You blink at him. “Do you just look up tulip facts in your free time?”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, basically.” He looks down at you, and you can’t help but notice how the greenery around brings out the shade of his eyes. “I worked at a flower shop for a tick.”

“Really?”

He nods. “For eight months. My favorite part was writing on the store board every morning.” His face lights up as he recalls his experience. “I used to write silly stuff like, ‘one day I’d like to meet tulips.’ The old ladies loved it.”

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Why’s that?”

Because you’re sweet, you want to answer, because when I think I won’t get charmed by you again, you hit me with tulip puns. Your lip finds its spot between your teeth, you’d be damned to give him the satisfaction of hearing you tell him that, so, instead, you shrug. “Because.” You can tell he wants to dig more by the way his lip twitch up, teasing a smile, but you just nod towards the door before turning away from him and heading out. 

There’s a distinct change of temperature when you step outside, and it’s only when you do that you notice the greenhouse was heated. Thankfully, the night is not too windy as it would get a week or two ago when winter was still insisting on making itself present, but it’s still chilly so that it makes you hug your jacket closer to your body. Harry also notices the difference, as you hear him wince as he steps out from behind you — unlike you, he’s not wearing anything to protect his arms from the cold, which only makes it harder for you to not ogle the tattoos hugging his skin.

“So, what’s next?” You prompt.

Harry reaches for the card again, taking it from its spot on his pocket before reading the second clue. “‘Not feeling too creative to write this one, it’s on the third tree on oak.’”

“I mean, at least we don’t have to think too much on this one.” You say, “Oak Street is the one to the left, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs. “Can’t believe he’s making us go out on the streets.”

You start to make your way back towards the house. “Too tired for a stroll?”

“‘S cold,” Harry says, scrunching his nose. “Here, there’s a side gate.”

He guides you through a gravel path to where the black gate stands, hidden between bushes and branches. Strings of fern hug the bricked fence and the surrounding grass is high enough that it tickles your calves through your tights, making you believe this path has probably been left unused for at least a couple of months now. This information brings out an extra worry for you, as you take a better look at it, noticing how the gate is closed shut to the fence.“Is it open?” You wonder out loud.

“Shit, I don’t think it is.” Harry huffs under his breath. “But, I mean, we could easily jump it.”

You stop, turning to glance at him as the suggestion leaves his lips. He stands there, hands on his hips, examining the gate, tongue poking out as he frowns. After a second, he meets your eyes. “What? It’s not that tall.”

“I suppose.” You say, looking back at the fence that ends just below your shoulder length. It would be easy enough for you to climb it with a boost, however, “I’m wearing a dress.”

“Oh,” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just go inside-” He turns back.

“Wait,” You stop him, not sure if it’s the slight amount of alcohol in your system already making you more adventurous, you train your gaze at the gate, analyzing it again, before looking back at him. Squinting your eyes, “You have to close your eyes.”

He laughs, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not that high.” You shrug. “But I need your help.”

“Of course.” He moves next to the brick wall, kneeling before it and nodding towards you. “C’mon, step up.”

Hesitantly, you glance at his thigh stretching his trousers, a sudden wave of insecurity hitting you. “Are you sure you can lift me?”

Harry simply puts his hand out in a silent request for you to hold. “Of course.”

“No peeking.”

He shuts his eyes tightly, chin meeting his chest as he looks down. And then you take his hand, feeling his fingers lock in a firm hold as he helps you use him for support. You hesitate again before using his thigh as a step, “Wait, I’m gonna ruin your trousers.” You worry, but Harry only shakes his head, still keeping it facing the ground, the strands of his hair falling above his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. When he doesn't feel you stepping in still, he encourages you with a squeeze in your hand. 

You attempt to do as quickly as possible with your dress clinging to your legs, tightening your hold to Harry’s hand to step on his thigh. Once you let it go, you can still feel it lingering behind your back as you use your arms to boost yourself up the wall, sitting on it for a moment before jumping to the other side with a huff.

“Can I open them?” You hear Harry’s voice calls from the other side, and you smile, nodding even though he can’t see it.

“Yes!”

And then his face appears as he stands up in a jump, grinning at you. “See? Easy Peasy.”

“I feel like a teen sneaking out.” You say, and you instantly give another meaning to your words as Harry boosts himself up. This time, you certainly don’t hold yourself back from staring at the way his muscles flex at the movement, the tattoos on his arms stretching, and his shirt rolling up. He makes it look so easy, so effortless, barely taking five seconds until he’s jumping in front of you.

“That was fun.” He puffs, patting his trousers lightly.

“So, how are we finding the tree?” You ask, taking a quick glance to where his hands brush on the fabric of his trousers. “Should we read the clue again?”

“I know which one he’s talking about,” Harry says, nodding to the left before beginning his stride in that direction. You follow him, trusting his words as the two of you turn the corner where Evan’s house is located. 

The street in question is much calmer than the one you were just in, with no cars coming or going from the residences — that stand much closer to one another, you notice, giving the whole street more of a narrow feeling to it --, which is not exactly odd, but certainly is a contrast with the main street that Evan’s home faces, that one being more lively with people either coming home or leaving it to enjoy their Friday night. The sudden lack of background noise makes the walk to your destination a tad awkward, as none of you make an effort to strike a conversation. Instead, you resort to silently observing the surrounding area as you walk alongside Harry, noticing how the trees here bend over the sidewalk, their naked branches slowly but surely growing back the leaves they lost months ago — it makes you wonder how beautiful this must look during the peak of springtime, their full branches blending together, making a ceiling of flowers.

“Here.” Harry stops abruptly, making you almost bump into his shoulder, as you were too busy with the scenery you’ve made in your own head. “‘S this one.”

“I thought it said the third one.” You frown, looking back and noticing the way you’ve passed way more than just three.

“This one is the third.” He says, motioning to a small birdhouse stuck to its trunk with a number ‘3’ painted to the front in blue. “It’s a bit of an inside joke,” Harry chuckles to himself. “Now I get why the bastard wanted me to have this card.”

You look closer at the tree, trying to see if there’s something attached to it besides the birdhouse, but there’s nothing. Before you can question it, Harry opens the front of the tiny house, retrieving two tiny bottles from inside of it, similar to the ones you found in the greenhouse.  “Oh, no.” You say, laughing. “Did he just put liquor inside a stranger’s birdhouse?”

Harry shakes his head, “This is not a stranger’s birdhouse.”

“Huh?” You frown, glancing back to the house where you stand in front of, its front completely dark, showing that no one must be at home. You point to it over your shoulder. “Do you know who lives here?”

“Yeah,” He starts, offering you one bottle. “I do.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise, glancing back and forth from the house to the man standing in front of you, an amusing grin growing on his face. “You live here?” You ask, “This is your birdhouse?”

“It is, yeah. In fact, I was the one who built it.” He gives the birdhouse a small pat.

You can’t help but let your mouth hang open for a second. “That’s-” You pause, not sure which word to use. Impressive? Amazing? Hot? “That’s nice.”

Harry smiles, and the two of you stand there for a moment, admiring his work in silence. You suck your bottom lip in, keeping yourself from inquiring further. 

Being presented with how little you know about Harry only peaks at your curiosity at what had happened last year in your brief experience with him. When you were with him it felt as if you’d known him for months rather than weeks, but looking back at it now, you wonder if your infatuation fooled you into thinking the two of you were close. Maybe that’s why you were so upset at the premiere after all because all that did was prove to you how much you didn’t know him at all. No matter how many sleepless nights you spent together sharing bits of your lives, it wasn’t enough for you to get to know him.

It’s only when a car turns into the street that you break away from your thoughts, looking up at him and clearing your throat. “We should take this back to Evan’s.” You say. “I’m not sure how it would look from an outsider’s point of view to see us downing these tiny bottles in the middle of the street.”

“You’re right,” Harry says. “Should we read the last clue while we’re at it?”

“Sure, yeah.”

He reaches for the card inside his pocket, presenting it to you. “You do the honors this time.”

You take the card, brushing your thumb over the words before stopping for a second to read them out loud, “You’ll find your prize behind the words of buried legends.” You snort. “That’s so corny.”

“Words of buried legends,” Harry repeats, letting out a hum. “Bet he was feeling quite poetic when he wrote this one.”

“Maybe because it has to do with poems.” You peek at him, a slight raise to your eyebrow. “‘Words of buried legends’? like dead poets and stuff?” Upon reading it again to make sure, you mumble, “He really made this card especially for you, huh?”

“Makes sense.” Harry agrees before nudging you playfully with his arm. “Look at you with your literary mind!”

“Could’ve used some better wording but I’ll let it pass.” You giggle, shrugging as you hand him back the card. As you do so, you notice there’s something written on the other side. “What’s in the back?”

Harry’s brows meet. “Huh?”

“In the back of the card, something’s written on it.” You nod towards his hand as he’s about to pocket the card again. 

Harry turns it around, reading it with a chuckle. “Ice breakers.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Your mouth drops open in amusement. “Well? Go on, then. Break the ice.”

Harry makes a show of clearing his throat before reading the question as an announcement, “What celebrity do you think you could pull on your best day?”

“Is this the actual question?” You squint your eyes at him and he turns the card to allow you to read it as well. Surely, the same question reads right on top of it and, as you take a glance at the ones below it, they’re not that much better. You shake your head, “God, I have no idea.”

“I know mine.”

“You didn’t give a single thought on that one.” You say. “This should be good.”

“Jennifer Aniston.”

“Jennifer Aniston?” You stop on your tracks, raising your brows at him. “You know she was married to Brad Pitt, right?”

“Ouch.” Harry makes the theatrics of putting a hand on his heart, head falling dramatically to the side. “Right where it hurts.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad-looking, but he’s Brad Pitt.” You emphasize with a laugh, pushing him playfully as you keep walking. “Like he is the male beauty standard. Personified.”

The front of Evan’s feels more vivid than it was when you first walked in hours ago, the lights inside seeming lighter and the curtains having been pulled back, showing people wandering around on the inside. You walk past another pair crouched in front of the bushes that line next to the front gate that creaks as you open it.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Sure, let’s hear yours, then, sweetheart.”

“Ew, don’t ever call me that again.” Your nose scrunches and your face grows hot, but you attempt to shake it off, stopping to think of the question. “Huh, on my best day? I think… I don’t know, maybe Drake?”

“Oh, no!” Harry’s hands cover his face as he shakes his head into them. “I feel like that’s the most basic answer anyone could ever give to this question.”

You gasp. “Did you just call me basic?”

Harry holds the front door open for you and, before he’s able to give you an answer, you bump right into Nia. She instantly blurts out your name, as if she’s been expecting you to appear. “I’ve been looking for you!” She says, sparing Harry a glance over your shoulder before pulling you slightly to the side. “Do you think we could talk for a second?”

“Sure.” You hold out the word, looking at Harry before focusing on your friend again. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, nothing happened. Just—” Nia starts, locking your arms as she guides you back outside, pulling you to a corner a few steps away from the front door. “How are you? How's it going?”

“I’m fine. Why?” Your brows knit together at her interference and you wonder if it has anything to do with her conversation with Nate.

“I’m talking about-” She looks over her shoulder, clearly checking if anyone is listening in. Even after making sure that there’s no one there, she still lowers her voice. “When I saw he was your pair, I wanted to rescue you right away, but fucking Taylor pulled me with him and I didn’t get the chance.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Is it too awkward?” She keeps her inquiry, holding your hand close to her chest. “We could ask them to switch so we can do the rest together, I’m sure Evan’s too plastered to notice.”

“Nia, I-” You smile as you come to realize that she pulled you aside just to check if you’re uncomfortable, having witnessed first-hand your whines and cries over Harry last year. “It’s okay, really. It’s not that bad, surprisingly.”

“Really?” Nia blinks, taken aback. “I- What happened?”

“Nothing.” You reassure her with a squeeze on her hand. “We’re just chatting, it’s not that awkward.”

“Okay.” She nods and nods, before falling serious again. “But if anything happens you just have to scream for me and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Okay.” You say, pulling her for a brief hug. “Thanks, Ni.”

The two of you return inside just as Taylor brings up his brother’s hair sculpture collection that’s being exhibited at a local gallery — a subject you already have been the victim of hearing for about an hour during New Year’s and, by Harry’s face, he seems as helpless as you did back then. Nia doesn’t waste a second before pulling her pair away, “Let’s go, pal, those clues won’t solve themselves,” she shoots you a look over her shoulder, pushing Taylor towards the living room and you chuckle.

“He really is one of a kind, that man,” Harry says with a sigh before meeting your gaze. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just lady talk.” You brush aside. “Let’s find those poets, shall we?”

“We shall.” Harry smiles, looking around for a second before guiding you down the hallway, turning just before entering the kitchen where a staircase. This is a way that — like the greenhouse — you’ve never been to. Still, Harry navigates so casually as if it were his own home and, to some degree, you suppose it is. You follow him up the first flight of steps, stopping just before turning into the next one where a door you never really noticed before stands. Harry rests his hand on the handle, turning to you before saying, “There’s an office hidden right here.”

You watch as he opens it, motioning for you to walk in first. And, indeed, the inside of it is an office, just a bit smaller than the living room on the opposite side of the house. Two bookcases that go from the floor to the ceiling mostly covered the wall, only leaving a single space in the middle for a dark wooden cabinet. In front of it, an L-shaped desk takes up the middle of the room, most of it is filled with files and paper stacks, as well as two computers lying asleep. For a moment, you just stand by the doorway, admiring this room you’ve never known of its existence, your eyes quickly sweeping through the bookshelves completely packed with dark cover books of all sorts. “Do you think this is where it could be?”

“Probably, yeah.” Harry nods, turning on the lights. “I don’t know where else he could have any poetry hidden.”

You move towards one bookshelf, the one closest to the door, reaching to brush your finger through the spines perfectly lined. “But look at the size of these, we’ll take forever to find anything in here.”

“Those big ones are mostly law books, I think,” Harry says, opening cabinets at the other side of the room, right next to where a white couch stands. He turns to look at you, “His sister’s a lawyer, this is her office.” Harry says, “But Evan’s got a corner right here where he keeps some of his stuff— like books of sorts. It’s the only place I could think of.”

You hum, not knowing exactly what to respond to this information.

“You can go through the ones on that side, it could be there as well.” Harry nods towards a cabinet right next to the door where you came from, and you nod.

The first two cabinets are of no luck, both being mostly filled with boxes full of children’s books and old toys — some of them mixed with more stacks of paper, but those, instead of having long texts, have drawings of all kinds from what you could gather in a glance, from child-like scribbles to actual sketches. You can hear Harry going through drawers on the other side of the room and, upon closing another empty cabinet, you peek at him, watching his broad back flexing under his shirt as he moves around. Averting your eyes as swiftly as you looked, it’s still enough to bring warmth to your cheeks.

Finally, you open the cabinet at the very bottom of the shelf. On the top, there are piles of DVDs, most being different variations of Barbie movies, but, right at the bottom, you find books. You don’t stop to check their genre at first, simply moving them away until you stumble upon a small box, the top of it marked with the word ‘prize’. “Found it!” You call back, taking the box away from the pile before setting the books back in place again. “Under Rupi Kaur? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure she’s very alive.”

“Don’t tell Evan that,” Harry says as he crouches next to you, taking the box from your hands. Inside, there are, as expected, two tiny bottles like the ones you found before but, what calls both your attention, is a small bag of sweets lying in the middle. Harry takes it, “Oh, those are nice.”

He hands it to you and you open it, quickly shoving a jelly candy into your mouth before nodding. “Yeah.”

“So…” Harry starts, peeking over his shoulder, “Do you want to go back there?”

You glance at him, his eyes hovering above yours, lips twitching up just barely. “Uh… Maybe not right now.” You answer, “Unless you feel like sharing our Jellies with other people.”

Harry only laughs, shaking his head as he sits back and you do so too, right next to him. He reaches for his pocket, presenting another tiny bottle, the one you found inside his birdhouse, “We still got these.” 

“Right!” You fetch your own out of the pocket of your jacket.

Harry opens his, holding it up towards you. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” You say, mimicking him.

Both of you down your drinks, the liquid tasting bitter, like medicine on your tongue, the only reminder of alcohol being the burn as it slides down your throat. You rest your head back on the cabinet behind you as the two of you fall into silence once more. A part of your mind is already beginning to swim around the space inside your head, and you decide to not take the last drink just yet, laying it next to your leg. Though you’ve only had the equivalent of two shots, you realize the long break you’ve had from drinking for the past couple of months -- which wasn’t exactly an intentional choice, but more like the result of your lack of free time -- is showing itself to have been enough to make you more of a lightweight. 

And even though the night so far has been strikingly surprising in terms of how comfortable you felt being around Harry again, it doesn’t mean the questions you’ve been carrying since last year have gotten any quieter. They’ve only gotten louder. More persistent, even. The curiosity you feel to know what happened is almost suffocating now. And you’d be damned if you let a drunken mind stop you from having this conversation.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, only watching the back of his head bobbing along with the music -- still the piano -- that comes faintly from behind the closed door. Your lips part, feeling the question form right at the tip of your tongue, but not knowing how to voice the words. Will it be awkward? You think so, but what if it ruins the night? Tonight, that’s been so oddly refreshing. A night that only served to remind you how you became so infatuated with him in the first place.

But you know you won’t be able to let go of this ich inside your head unless you bring it up. And you want to, you do, but as you take too long to think of the right way to do so, Harry decides to break the silence, murmuring next to you, “That’s a good one.”

Your brows knit together, trying to make out any trace of familiarity within the song that’s playing, but you don't find any, which only leaves you even more confused.  “Do you like classical?”

“Love,” Harry says simply, his eyes closed as he moves his head with the piano keys. “Especially this one. One of the greatest works from one of the greatest contemporary composers: Billie Eilish.”

Your lips fall open, “Shut up. Is she playing this?”

Harry laughs, a full one, that brings a grin to poke at your lips. “I mean, as far as I’m aware, no. It’s a version of her song — listen in.” He points to his ear, nodding with the melody as he sings along, “So you’re a tough guy, like it really rough guy.”

You shake your head incredulously, “Of course he’s playing classical versions of pop songs!” 

“Did you really think Evan had a taste for Chopin or Debussy?” Harry asks both dimples poking on his cheeks.

“I think at this point I’d believe anything you tell me about him.”

Both of you laugh, the air surrounding you light and warm, before falling quiet again. This time, however, you simply stare at each other for a beat. You watch his eyes, with their almost hypnotizing jade shade, glancing between your own. He rolls his lip between his teeth, nibbling at it. This is the closest you’ve been to him all night, and the details on his face only feel like a reminder of your doubts. Like the nostalgia you feel with a bittersweet memory.

“Should we-“ You stop, the words falling from your lips before you can think about them. “Should we talk about the elephant in the room?”

You half expect Harry to frown, to play dumb, and question you the meaning behind your words. For a second, you even expect him to shake his head, to get up and leave the room. And, for some reason, you kinda want him to do so. To finally break the mask of the nice, sweet guy he’s been putting on all night and allow himself to play the role of cold prick you put him on for the past months. 

But he doesn’t do it. He only gives you a short smile. “I was thinking about how to bring it up.” Harry’s gaze falls to his lap for a beat as he scratches his nose. “We should, yeah.”

You nod, more to yourself than to him. This is it. The moment to ask what you’ve been waiting for for six months now. You decide not to think much anymore, allowing the question to roll freely, “I don’t really know how to word this better but- pardon my French- what the fuck happened?”

Harry chuckles, but not an amused one. It’s more of a dry, nervous laugh. “How cliche is it if I tell you I was really fucking stupid?”

“Pretty cliche.” You say, “But also pretty true, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry for that.” He looks up, eyes meeting yours again, his own softening upon seeing you. “I really am.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile a little, “But I think I deserve an explanation.”

“You do.” He speaks quietly before clearing his throat. For a second, he doesn’t say anything else, just takes a sharp breath, focusing on his fingers that play with the hem of his trousers. “I- Uhm- I know this might come as a surprise, but I’m not very good at letting people down.”

“A bit, I guess.” You try to humor, but your tone doesn’t show it. You sound quiet, hurt.

He peeks up at you, and continues, “Jess- the girl you met at the premiere- she’s lovely and all, but- how do I say this- we were never really supposed to be together.” Harry sighs, “I didn’t like her like that.”

You frown, “Then, why did you?”

“A couple of months before we met- before Evan even mentioned the film project to me, one of my mates kept insisting that I should meet his sister.” He pauses, “That was Jess.”

“I figured.”

Harry nods, “As I said, she’s a lovely girl, really nice, but we just- didn’t click like that, you know?” You hum in agreement, ignoring a small twist in your stomach when he repeats the endearment term. “But I guess she really wanted to try it, and, for months, I just kept pushing and pushing, cause I thought maybe with time I could bring myself to feel the same way.” And then again, another humorless laugh, “But- spoiler alert- I couldn’t and I should’ve just told her that.”

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you decide against saying anything. It’s clear as you watch him explain that the entire situation for him felt more complicated than you’d ever considered. Not once did you think about the possibility of him being caught in a twist of his own decisions, and not once did you regard his feelings with the whole situation. In your bubble of gloominess, all you could think of was how he played you and used you for a bit before moving on to the next girl that fell for his sweet talk. 

Looking at him now, however, his head low and brows set on a permanent crease, lips frowning down, you can feel the internal conflict pooling out of his pores. You’re not sure if it’s exactly a look of remorse that he gives you, but it sure seems close to it.

Harry huffs in what feels like frustration as he keeps recalling the events, “But all my mates kept taking the piss, pushing me to ask her out and then, in the middle of it, I met you.” He finally smiles a bit, and you have to look down to hide the warmth that spreads on your cheeks, “And we-uh-” He shrugs, “I mean, we clicked, didn’t we?”

“I think so.” You say, just above a whisper.

“I think so, too,” Harry says, holding your gaze with his own. “And when I was with you I let myself forget about that, forget about the pressure to be with someone else, I guess.” His lips fall again, eyes meeting his lap, “But when we came back, there wasn’t much running away from it anymore. The night we got back I met that friend of mine and, I’m not sure if he said anything to Jess, but she asked me out.”

“And you said yes.”

“I said yes.” He repeats, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have, but I said yes.”

“So you just dated her? Even if you didn’t like her like that?” You say, trying to understand his thought process. Even if his words tug at your heartstrings -- which you try to not think about right now -- you still can’t help but feel a bit for the other girl.

“I thought I could- I don’t know, I thought with time maybe I could-” He stumbles around with his speech, before finally letting out a sigh, “I don’t know what was going through my head, to be honest. I was a prick.”

“At least you can admit to it.”

“I was a prick to both of you.” 

You fall quiet, hoping he takes your silence as an agreement. When he doesn’t offer anything else, you speak up again, “Did it work, though?” He frowns, and you clarify, “Letting time force feelings into you?”

“I found very quickly how hard it is to develop feelings for someone when there’s someone else on your mind.” He says, and you bite back a smile that wants to spread on your lips.

“It’s very easy to say that now.”

“I know.” He agrees, “And I wish I could’ve realized that earlier, before even bringing you into this mess.” Harry reaches for your wrist, which lies on top of your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. “For that I really am sorry.”

“I know you are.” You reassure, turning your hand to find his, squeezing it back. “And what happened to Jess?”

“She was rightfully upset when I told her.” His thumb brushes against your knuckles, moving the rings on your fingers around just slightly, and it’s almost enough to distract you from his voice. “We broke up a day after the premiere.”

“Ouch.”

“But it’s fine now, she’s got a boyfriend now who actually cares for her the way she deserves,” Harry says.

“That’s nice to hear, at least.”

“It is, yeah.”

You look down at your hands locked in your lap, squeezing his one more time before letting it go with a sigh.  “You really made a big mess, huh?”

He chuckles, a guilty smile poking on his face, “I did.”

You nod, finally reaching for the tiny bottle left forgotten next to you, opening it. This time you only take a sip, but it’s still enough to end half of the liquid inside. You click your tongue, “I’m glad we talked, though.” You look up at Harry again, who’s already watching you, giving a small tap on his thigh. “It’s nice to have closure, you know? To give it a conclusion and wrap with a nice little bow.”

Harry rolls his lip inside his mouth, “Is this a conclusion, then?”

You raise your brows, “Is it not?”

“I guess it could be.” He shrugs one shoulder, leaning closer to you just barely, eyes trained in yours. “But I’m hoping that, after today, maybe we could start over?”

You laugh, scrunching your nose at him as you shake your head. “Not a start over, no.” You poke his side, “You’re not getting away that easy.”

“You’re right.” He says, still not budging as he frowns his lips. “But I wish it didn’t have to be an ending as well.”

“Is that so?”

Harry nods, you can tell his eyes hold a shyness that wasn’t here a minute ago, but at the same time -- as paradoxically as it seems -- there’s a boldness as well, one you’re more familiar with. “Maybe we could chat again. This time with fewer ice breaker cards and more bags of sweets.”

You smile, rubbing your chin as you pretend to ponder about his suggestion. “That does sound very promising.”

“I really do think we clicked.” He drops his playful tone as if wanting to make sure you feel the sincerity behind his words. “Wasn’t just saying it.”

“I know.” You say, “And I think so, too.”

His smirk grows, and he doesn’t offer anything else to say, but you can tell he’s holding something back. With the silence, you suddenly become too aware of the way your arms brush together, and how his knee bumps against yours. You notice how his eyes fall a bit from yours, so quickly you could’ve imagined it, but you choose to not think so. If you lean forward, you know he will too, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You’re not letting yourself make the first move.

Surely, you’re aware these thoughts are a direct result of the alcohol sweeping through your mind, testing how much of your pride you’re willing to ignore. There’s no questioning of the wall that you built all those months ago after walking out of this very house with this very man on your tail blurring out apologies. It still stands, tall and strong, and you're not letting sweet words mixed with a drink or two pull it down. Not that easily. But at this moment, looking at his stupidly beautiful face with his stupidly beautiful eyes so close to you, you feel like maybe you could peek through a window, or open up a door — just a creek, just to have a sample of what it would feel like if you were to pull it down.

“Do you want to go back?” Harry asks again, this time more quietly, this time his question has a different implication than it did before.

You're quick to shake your head, voice quiet, “Not yet.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and you raise your brows, silently daring him to ask what he’s been holding. You see his hand moving from the corner of your eyes, but you don’t break your gaze from his, not even when you feel his fingertips moving so gently against your cheekbone, brushing your hair away from your face. Harry leans closer, again just barely, and again, you stay still, only smiling softly in encouragement. Now, you’re stuck in your own silent conversation; both seeking the same thing but not making the move to achieve it -- either for pride or apprehension. 

“I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Harry whispers finally, eyes moving down again, this time slowly, making sure that his intentions are clear.

“Do it, then.” You tease.

Harry breathes out a laugh, his hand caressing its way down to your jaw. He rubs his thumb against your cheek, a feathery touch, taking another second to look at you before pulling you in. Your eyes fall closed, as you focus on your senses, and allow yourself to peek from that window, or creek that door open just a bit, to have just this moment to remember when you first got lost in his touch. 

First, it’s the warmth of his breath tickling your cupid bow, making your hold your own breath in anticipation. Then, the tip of his nose, gentle against your own, and you can’t help but lean in a bit more when you feel the ghost of his lips on yours. But he pulls back, just so slightly, hoping to have you reach for him again. Except you don’t, knowing what he’s trying to do.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, pulling back just a bit to look him in the eye. “You don’t get to tease me.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, “That’s fair.”

This time, there’s no teasing. Still, he goes in just as slowly as he did the first time around, curving his lips around your bottom one so softly it almost makes you lean in again. His kiss is cloud-like in a way that makes you a bit dizzy and when he presses his lips harder, you have to refrain from letting out a dreamy sigh -- still too stubborn to give him the satisfaction. It’s when you feel the tip of his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip in a silent request, that you pull away completely.

It’s your turn to smirk now, licking your lips before announcing, “I think we should go back now.”