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socialjetlags · 7 months ago

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╰ ☆ ◞ lee taeyong / cismale / he/him ——— no way, is that JOEL CHO? you know, they’re 28 YEARS OLD and they’ve been in los angeles for THREE YEARS. they’re chillin’ as a MUSICIAN. oh and they’re notoriously known for being OBSESSIVE but there are some people who have seen them be HUMOROUS. i heard they’re a part of a BAND called ELECTRIC JUNE, yeah they’re a VOCALIST & BASSIST. to be honest they sound a lot like WATERPARKS & I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME. they’re actually A RISING STAR.

I. BASICS.

FULL NAME: joel cho / cho juhwan.

NICKNAME(S): mchale (in reference to a popular actor he shares his first name with, joel mchale), slimer (after the ghostbusters character—was given to him after he dyed his hair neon green, and it has unfortunately stuck ever since).

AGE: 28.

DATE OF BIRTH: june 13, 1995.

PLACE OF BIRTH: greensboro, north carolina.

GENDER: cisgender male.

PRONOUNS: he/him.

ORIENTATION: bisexual.

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, some korean.

NEIGHBORHOOD: los angeles.

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: lives in a 2-bedroom unit in the downtown lofts with a roommate he met through a friend of a friend of a friend (wanted connection).

II. FAMILY TIES.

MOTHER: diana yeom, schoolteacher. tumultuous relationship. she was a great mother to joel as he was growing up & she still loves him dearly, but often struggles to understand his motives/what it is that he wants out of life, and was particularly upset when he decided to move to los angeles with his band. they've been at odds ever since.

FATHER: john cho, attorney. tumultuous relationship. he was a decent father to joel as he was growing up, but it a very "traditional" man and had a lot to say both to and about joel as he got more and more into music/performing. not thrilled about joel's decision to make music his career end-goal. calls once a month, sends money on occasion.

SIBLINGS: phoebe cho, younger sister. two years younger than joel, but you'd think it were the other way around. she's always been the more responsible, mature and intelligent of the two, and you could say that joel feels a little bit inferior to her. they were still pretty close while they were growing up. nowadays, they've let themselves drift apart.

PETS: none at the moment, but he's interested in getting one.

III. OCCUPATION INFO.

OCCUPATION: musician.

NAME OF THEIR ACT: electric june.

THEIR ROLE IN THE ACT: vocalist, occasional bassist or guitarist depending on the demands of the song.

HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN A PART OF THE ACT?: about 11 years, though the band has undergone many name changes, lineup changes, and sound changes throughout that time period.

ARTIST INFLUENCES: third eye blind, blink-182, jimmy eat world, the goo goo dolls, weezer, so on & so forth—a variety of alt rock & pop punk influences.

CURRENT MONTHLY SPOTIFY LISTENERS: 312k.

IV. APPEARANCE.

FACE CLAIM: lee taeyong.

HAIR COLOR: naturally black, usually dyed an unnatural color; currently a rusty red-brown tone.

EYE COLOR: dark brown.

HEIGHT: 174cm, 5ft9.

BUILD: admittedly scrawny, slightly defined muscles.

TATTOOS: a variety of small ones on his torso, arms & legs; details tbd.

PIERCINGS: triple lobes in both ears, double helix in the left.

CLOTHING STYLE: a lot of baggy, bright streetwear; particularly fond of the brands stray rats & chinatown market. wears a lot of loose cargos with oversized t-shirts, accessorized with bucket hats and jewelry.

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: fried hair from over-bleaching, a textured scar said to resemble a rose right beside his right eye.

V. PERSONALITY.

MBTI: esfp, the performer.

ELEMENT: air.

WESTERN ZODIAC: gemini.

CHINESE ZODIAC: pig.

POSITIVE TRAITS: creative, diligent, compassionate, humorous, friendly, chatty (is this a good thing?), decisive, loyal.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: unserious, obsessive, fickle, prone to excessive rumination, insecure, neurotic.

HOBBIES: building intricate plastic models, self-sabotage, bowling, performing stand-up comedy at open mic nights, writing comedy sketches that he'll never use, forgetting his bit halfway through a performance, saying he'll never perform stand-up comedy again and then getting right back at it five days later, caving, reading tarot cards.

VI. WANTED CONNECTIONS.

ROOMMATE: someone joel met through a friend of a friend of a friend when they both happened to be looking for a roommate at the same time; they met once & liked each other just enough to sign a lease together. they're about halfway through their lease now & have a better idea of who they're each dealing with. this can be either a positive or negative dynamic.

INNER CIRCLE: a few good friends; most of whom joel probably met when he moved to los angeles in early 2021. they know all of his bad habits/cycles, and have been irritated by him more times than they could count on both hands, but they're still friends all the same. he loves these people.

FLAVOR OF THE MONTH: the person joel's currently infatuated with. probably not going to go anywhere, as he's fickle with his feelings & is prone to losing interest when the target of his affection shows reciprocation; but for now, he's having a good time trying to rizz them up.

QUESTIONNAIRE.

start at the beginning, who are you & why are you important?

"me? i'm joel cho—frontman of the band electric june." when he grins, it's all teeth. an attempt to charm, a fear that he won't succeed. "before electric june, i was just a bored kid in north carolina. there's not much to me besides this, but i'd say i'm doing a damn good job at making something out of it. i guess that's why i'm important, huh?"

how long have you been making music?

"uh, let me think..." he makes a show out of counting on his hands, brow furrowed in faux concentration. he knows damn well that his answer's going to be tacky, irritating. he doesn't mean to be, just is. it's in his nature. "since birth, i guess? my mom says i was singing before i could talk, but i'm sure that's an exaggeration... still, i was probably six when i wrote my first song. not that it was good or anything. and i started playing music with other people at fourteen, so fourteen years ago."

how would you describe the kind of music you make?

"it's like a fever dream. during production, i like to layer in a lot of interesting sounds—glittery sounds, you could say, like... like... a phone ringing, but i'll muffle and distort it, then turn it way down, so it's something in the background and something that might confuse the person listening into thinking it's in their environment rather than in the song. other times i'll layer in birds chirping, or a wind chime; stuff that adds dimension, but it never really sounds like what it is." he pauses, cracks his knuckles. thinks to straighten his posture; doesn't. "do you get what i'm saying? anyway—it's kind of rock, kind of pop. there's a lot of synth in it. what else can i say? it's electric june. a sound of its own."

who are some of your biggest musical influences?

"uh, honestly... i try not to be influenced by anyone else. if i had to name one, though... i don't know, the first ones that comes to mind are the cocteau twins and grimes."

what is the first record you ever bought?

"shit, i don't know. maybe in love and death by the used? or something from my chemical romance? something tacky, for sure."

what has working in the music industry meant to you thus far in your career?

"everything," he claims, back to his earlier ear-to-ear grin. there's a mischievous look in his eyes, like he's telling a lie; but his tone is sincere. "this is all that i've ever wanted to do, and it's finally starting to pay most of the bills. i've learned a lot from working in this industry, though, like... you have to throw away your pride to be a musician. to an extent, at least, or you'll get caught up in a lot of stupid shit. it's never that serious."

what are some stand-out moments from your career so far?

"at my sister's wedding, one of her husband's distant relatives recognized me as the singer of electric june. that was nuts."

what are you still hoping to achieve in your career?

"being financially comfortable would be nice. a hollywood star... is that too much to ask for? i don't know, i'll be grateful for whatever good things come my way."

what's next for you?

"taking over the worldustry... do you know what i mean?"

#sonicfm:intro

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jessmenace · 2 years ago

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Coachella Weekend Two @ Empire Polo Club 04/23/23 (Day 3)

we were all cognizant going into Day 3 that just the weekend before, THAT infamous Frank Ocean set had gone down... and which will probably continue to go down in coachella history (negatively). but even before our Day 3 started - when PHM was first announced - I knew we were in for a historic day too (positively). AND IT WAS.

sets I saw Day 3:

Porter Robinson. felt weird seeing him play so early (haven't seen an afternoon porter set in a minute) but it's always nice and feelsy to see a Nurture set!

Kali Uchis. we mainly stayed for her set bc it was too hot to move to another stage but what a pleasant surprise! she was giving mainstage effort for sure.

Jai Wolf. I can never watch jai wolf without thinking of the time my friend accidentally asked him to take a photo of us T_T... top embarrassing moment 5ever lmao. but he's always a consistently good time - and my non-EDM listening best friend even came with me bc she saw that he was going to bring out Banks. ending with that new collab into Indian Summer as the sun set was magical.

Fish Lake

Blink-182. fyi I heard some Gen Z kids around me refer to Blink-182 as "that one meme song" (referencing 'I Miss You' as a trending tiktok sound) and I wanted to shrivel up of OLDNESS. these dudes have been on my bucket list forever - but surprisingly I didn't know as much of the set as I'd thought! interesting set list. it was all worth it to scream 'all the small things' and 'rock show' at the top of my lungs with all my friends though.

PHM/tba. what can I say about this set that hasn't been lauded already throughout social media? just that everything you read about it is true: historic in the way it came about - probably close to the level of the daft punk set (I SAID WHAT I SAID). a huge dance party that should get coachella to seriously consider restructuring all their lineups to have a dance closer. just a hilarious, fun, and epic good time watching 3 good friends/sickeningly talented DJs have the time of their lives making the thousands of us all scream and dance together. it didn't feel as serious and produced as any other headliner ever. I feel beyond grateful and lucky that I got to witness this special set live (read: I will essentially never shut up about this).

Overall, 10/10 day once again - and 10s across the board! ♡

(counting down the days till next year already~)

#coachella #coachella 2023 #porter robinson #blink 182 #skrillex #fred again #four tet #empire polo club

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amesliu · 3 years ago

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Do Percy and annabeth listen to their own music and who are their favourite artists?

ooh this is a really fun but difficult question for me to answer because as a child of chinese immigrants i was not exposed to classic american music that i think most people would jump to as inspiration and i also don't listen to a lot of new music bc i live in an endless loop of songs i listened to when i was 14 and small pop-punk bands.

i think for Percy it's fairly obvs that he'd be into stuff like Queen, MCR, Paramore, FOB, Green Day, Blink-182 etc.etc. I think he'd also be into Poppy and Rina Sawayama if we're talking about current faves. And lbr he loves TMG.

(some pop punk/pop rock musicians I'll also add just so you guys will go and listen to them would be Ivypaint, Young Culture, and Pup)

For Annabeth I think it's a little harder for me to answer bc Taylor Swift is probably my biggest Core Memory Mainstream Artist. Since I'm using TS for reference I feel like we can pretty easily just pull her insp as well. I think she also likes a lot of the Paramore, FOB, Green Day, etc. stuff. I also think she was a big Lemonade Mouth kid and also she really likes pre-mobile orchestra Owl City (I know this is incredibly funny due to the TS-Adam Young thing but I think they both have this storytelling element to their music)

#not art #music au percabeth #asked and answered #i think everyone listens to their own music #if thats what you mean #have u seen calum's playlist #everything post sgfg on there #TMG is so percy core

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iamnotawomanimagod · 2 years ago

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Halsey lyrics + common references/parallels

Places:

+ "somewhere in the Garden State, a girl from California waits" (People disappear here)

+ "there's a guy that lives in the Garden State" (Bad at Love)

+ "there's a girl with California eyes" (Bad at Love)

+ "got a boy back home in Michigan and it tastes like Jack when I'm kissing him" (Bad at Love)

+ "London girl with an attitude, never told no one but we looked so cute" (Bad at Love)

+ "all alone out in Saint-Tropez, lookin' as fine as a damn Monet" (Don't Play)

+ "I spent a night out in Paris where they don't know my name, and I got into some trouble with that drink in my veins" (Alone)

+ "I got a new place in Cali, but I'm gone every night" (Alone)

+ "and California never felt like home to me, until I had you on the open road" (Drive)

+ "pull the sheets right off the corner of the mattress that you stole from your roommate back in Boulder" (Closer)

+ "play that Blink-182 song that we beat to death in Tuscon" (Closer)

+ "I stared at the sky in Milwaukee and hoped that my father would finally call me" (929)

+ "there's a place way down in Bed-Stuy where a boy lives behind bricks" (Hurricane)

+ "I went down to a place in Brooklyn, a little liquor on my lips" (Hurricane)

Drugs/alcohol:

+ "running lines like a marathon, got 'em all white like parmesan" (Don't Play)

+ "now you know where the bottle gone, drippin' so wet with the Perignon, I am not the type to admit I'm on, how could I lie when we sip so strong?" (Don't Play)

+ "Yeah don't even try, can't fuck up my vibe, double-cuppin' in the ride, motherfucker don't play with me" (Don't Play)

+ "lost the love of my life to an ivory powder" (929)

+ "but I never got a change to make her mine, 'cause she fell in love with little thin white lines" (Bad at Love)

+ "spilling a flask of Avion on your brand new sneakers" (Tokyo-Narita Freestyle)

+ "we are the new Americana, high on legal marijuana"

+ "cigarettes and tiny liquor bottles"

Fire:

+ "Go on and light a cigarette, set a fire in my head tonight" (Trouble - Stripped)

+ "But you crawled inside my head and set a fire there instead" (Ya'aburnee)

+ "I'm fading away, you know I used to be on fire" (Angel on Fire)

Rain/hurricanes:

+ "I'm the violence in the pouring rain, I'm a hurricane" (Hurricane)

+ "do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?" (Gasoline)

#halsey #I know there are more pls add on #also feel free to take inspiration from this for edits and if you do please lmk b/c I wanna see <3 #stephspeaks #this has been in my drafts for ages

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starbornvalkyrie · 4 years ago

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ACOSF USA BOOK TOUR NOTES

Hey y’all! I just attended the LiveTalks Los Angeles event with Sarah J Maas and Eva Chen!! I took lots of notes so I wanted to share them with you all! They’re a little incoherent on the page, so it might seem a crazy, they jumped topics a lot. Feel free to chat with me about what she talked about! But first.

MY RULES:

NO SHIP OR CHARACTER SLANDERING. I know that we all may have different opinions. I will not offer my opinions here, this is purely informational for those of you who did not have the opportunity to attend this event.

PLEASE NO ARGUING IN MY COMMENTS OR ASK BOX WITH ME OR ANYONE ELSE WHO COMMENTS

Acknowledge that I am not perfect and may not have written down everything perfectly. I did my best while still trying to enjoy the event.

I AM NOT SARAH J MAAS AND CANNOT INTERPRET WHAT SHE MEANS

I’m tagging this with #acosf spoilers and #acosfspoilers just in case.

If you understand and can abide by these rules, keep reading below the cut, and enjoy!

SJM said it was weird doing this event from her living room where you might be able to hear her dog in the background or her son trying to get into the room.

ACOSF started as a passion project while she was writing ACOWAR! It was never anything she thought she was going to publish. (more on this later)

About reading and writing growing up

in middle school, she read a lot of fantasy

in high school, she didn’t read as much, but wrote A LOT. it became her fixation, almost an obsession.

in college, she only really wrote on vacations (she had a very healthy social life hehehe) but her junior year is when she found her balance between schoolwork, writing, and socializing.

there was no plan B for her!! it was always to be an author. if it didn’t happen right away, she was going to find a job that would get her by until plan A could come to be.

her favorite author growing up was Garth Nix. She longed for books about badass women. She got to meet him and write a blurb to be on one of his books! She cries when she meets her favorite authors.

Talk about character names!

her character names come from everywhere and nowhere

sometimes she’ll just hear a name in her head and think “that’s it!” (Rhys, for example)

she needs to know the name to write the character

if the name doesn’t immediately come to her, she spends a lot of her time on baby name websites and makes lists until it clicks

sometimes the names just... connect. sometimes she doesn’t mean for them to.

it will always be uncommon. never “Frank” lol

Writing about Nesta!

on a “surface level” she loves writing when Nesta comes out to fight. for example, her favorite scene in this aspect to write was the bog scene. As soon as she got to it, it flowed out of her. The final product was almost identical to the first draft. She wrote it in one session, from the terror & tread to the “who am i?” to when she emerged--she went YES. MAJOR Mic Drop moment for her.

going deeper: definitely her overall journey was one of the favorites she’s ever written. From the dark place she’s in at the beginning to the very end.

Writing about Nesta meant so much to her because of her own mental health. She channeled a lot of her own feelings and went on the journey with Nesta.

it was a lot of “how do you face mental health in a fantasy world without therapy and medication”

it was easy to get into Nesta’s mind but emotionally intense.

ACOSF’S BIG MESSAGE: LEARNING TO LOVE YOURSELF AND OTHERS. YOU ARE WORTH OF LOVE.

YES there is a book planned for Elain!

As soon as Nesta and Elain came onto the page again in ACOMAF, she knew they’d get their own journey.

Nesta grabbed her by the throat in book 1

She was originally contracted for only the first three books but realized there was more she wanted to explore. Essentially the “what comes next” after ACOWAR in this new world with out the wall.

FUN FACT: while editing ACOMAF/writing ACOWAR, she drunkenly told her editor at the time, “hey guess what happens next?”, and it turned into a two hour conversation about everything she wants to happen for Nesta, Elain, Mor, Azriel, etc. TWO WEEKS LATER, she gets a call saying they want to buy the stories!! Obviously, she said yes.

This allowed her to start planting the Easter eggs for these stories in ACOWAR. She knew she did not want Nesta to be sympathetic at the beginning of the book! But she did not want people to hate her.

She always has one eye on the horizon for future books.

If she could visit one court for a day, which and why?

She LOVES the season Autumn, it’s her favorite. “BUT EVERYONE IN THE AUTUMN COURT IS AN ASSHOLE”. She would want to visit the Autumn Court when no one is there so she can enjoy the beauty of Autumn.

But also she would want to go to the Summer Court because she has a thing for Tarquin but only if it’s not gross and humid.

She would ALSO want to go to the Day Court for Helion and all his libraries.

ESSENTIALLY she would want to go everywhere but Spring because Tamlin sucks and is an asshole lmao.

BEAST FORMS

SJM’s beast form would be something totally not cool or majestic like a sea otter.

Nesta’s beast form would be something terrifying and beautiful like a snow leopard/dragon hybrid, a griffin, or a sphinx. **WANTS SOMEONE TO DRAW THIS**

FUN QUESTIONS

Nesta’s favorite smutty book would be JR Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood series. She reads these books for the distraction, of course, but also for the comfort they gave her that everything turns out okay for the characters.

Nesta’s Starbucks order: cappuccino- something simple, nothing with too much sugar or whipped cream. Elain’s would be a Frappe- something delicious and sweet. SJM’s is a flat white, iced or not, but never after 2PM.

SJM usually listens to classical music and movie scores while she writes, but she’s gotten used to write in silence so that she can listen for her son’s shenanigans with Josh.

“Stay Together for the Kids” by Blink 182 semi-inspired the scene when Nesta and Cassian go back to her family’s cottage. She can hardly explain why.

WRITING ADVICE

Write what you love, not what you think you should be writing.

Give yourself permission to suck. Her first drafts are shit and are usually accompanied with an email that says “I know I need to fix this, this and that” lol.

WRITE THE DAMN THING. Vomit on the page!

YOU CAN’T FIX A BLANK PAGE.

Her least favorite part about the publishing process is the first pass of copy edits, those last minute checks and balances. But once it’s off to the printer, it’s not her problem anymore.

She’s every publisher’s worst nightmare because she sends it off to the printer at the LAST possible minute.

For reference: Throne of Glass was finished almost... a year and a half? ...before it hit shelves, but ACOSF was finished this past fall.

MAIN CHARACTER TALK

All of her heroines have a piece of her.

SJM’s personality is a hybrid of Bryce and Nesta.

Feyre and Nesta got most of her in terms of learning to be empowered.

She has to have a connection to them in order to write them. It’s an out of body, method acting experience.

MISCELLANEOUS

She said “CC2 is a year from now.”

She started writing ACOTAR in 2008 before she published TOG.

She loves the story and dynamic of Elizabeth and Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. Cassian is Elizabeth. Nesta is Darcy.

And that’s all I have, folks! Thank you for reading, I hope you got something out of this!

#acosf spoilers #acosfspoilers #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #sarah j maas #live talks

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troubatrain · 4 years ago

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with you around - n. patrick

a/n: so this is a repost of an old fic from my old blog that survived the purge when I deleted - there’s actually two parts i just need to find the other one to post it lmao. i’m tagging @prettyboybarzal because nolpat is the dream stoner boyfriend and there’s nothing you can do to convince me otherwise

You open your back door, sneaking out and walking to the back of the yard, climbing up the worn ladder to the tree house your parents built over a decade ago. You check your phone, knowing Nolan would have landed an hour ago which means he should be walking over to you now. You move the random throw pillows you’d collected over the years, trying to make the wooden house slightly more comfortable.

“You have got to stop making me climb up here,” You hear a deep voice huff, and you knew exactly who was on his way up.

“It’s tradition, Nolan,” You deadpan, it was how you both spent every first night of summer.

You watch as Nolan flicks on the old Christmas lights you’d hung up when you were sixteen. That was the first year you’d spent without the comfort of having your best friend next door. You were proud of Nolan, but it didn’t take away from how rough of a year it was without him. He finally plops down next to you, “So what’s been going home?”

“Same old, same old,” You say, pulling the joint from your hoodie pocket, twirling it in your hand.

Nolan laughs, “You’re going to get me in so much trouble one of these days.”

Regardless of his words, Nolan snatches the joint and lighter out of your hand, lighting the paper and taking a big puff, coughing as soon as he did.

“You’re losing your touch Nols,” You say, joking about when you were younger Nolan could smoke more than anyone - hockey being the only reason he’d stop. You take a huge puff of smoke, blowing it out easily.

“Why are we still friends? All you do is bully me,” Nolan says, nudging you with his shoulder lightly.

“You’re too grumpy for everyone else,” You say, “I just put up with it.”

Nolan laughs, and your heart swells at the sound. You’d missed him, and you were happy to have him with you. He looked like your Nolan when he was home, his eyes a little glassy from the joint, his cheeks rosy and full of joy, and his eyes that only ever seemed to be on you.

“How are you?” You ask, leaning your head on his shoulder. You knew he had a rough season with everything that was going on. You’d wished you could have been there but you got so wrapped in school you couldn’t find the time to make the trip out to Philly.

“Some days are good, some days are bad,” Nolan says solemnly, “I wish I got to play.”

“I wish you got to play too,” You say, moving your hand to run through his hair, “You’ll be back on the ice soon.”

You fell into a long conversation about what the other person had missed. Nolan told you about his year, living with Kevin and TK’s usual antics. You talked about how college was going, living out in Alberta to go to art school. You got so excited talking about your classes and what you’d been creating.

“Speaking of art school, take any thought to those post grad plans?” Nolan asks, looking down at you next to him.

You sigh, knowing what he’d been referring to. He mentioned it from time to time, moving to Philly with him after you finally graduated. He knew it was a good city to create art in and that you would have more opportunities out there. You weren’t sure if you wanted to up and leave everything you’ve ever known to move all the way to Philadelphia - even if it was with Nolan.

“I don’t know Nols,” You say.

He nods, it was the same answer you always gave him, “I just want you to have every opportunity you deserve.”

You smile, he’d always been your number one supporter. You sometimes think you could the worst painting in the world but Nolan wouldn’t hesitate to say he liked it. He didn’t totally understand art, and it definitely wasn’t his comfort zone but he always listened to you talk about it anyways.

“I’ll give you an answer next summer,” you say, “Pinky promise.”

Nolan’s eyebrows raise at the seriousness of your voice, “A pinky promise?”

“Yeah Nols, let’s go, hold it out,” You say, holding your pinky out for his to link with yours.

“If it matters, I really want to have you out in Philly with me, you’ll love it,” Nolan says, throwing his arm around you to pull you closer.

Your face finds its usual spot, tucked right under Nolan’s chin, he still felt the same. He talked more about Philly, and all of the things about it he knew you’d love. You doze off, the sounds of Nolan’s deep voice putting you to sleep easily.

You scan the house party for the millionth time, waiting to see when Nolan was getting there. He had a late afternoon skate, and you knew for a fact that he was going to pass out afterwards - but at this point you thought he was never going to make it out.

“Are you looking for your other half?” You hear your friend, Kacey, say.

“He’s not my other half,” You say to the tattooed brunette next to you, her eyebrow raised at you, and you took a big gulp of your drink to try and avoid the topic all together.

“He wants you to move to Philly with him after you graduate,” Kacey says, “You’re practically married, and he’s here.”

Your whips around to the front door, Nolan walking in, his skateboard in hand and a case of beer in the other.

You hear Kacey scoff at how quickly you turned your head, “I hate both of you really.”

Kacey walked away as soon as Nolan spotted you, walking over to you and wrapped you in a tight hug.

“Nice of you to show up,” You say, pulling back from his arms, “Take a good nap?”

“How did you know I was asleep?” Nolan says, grabbing a beer for himself.

You turn your head, giving him a knowing look, “We both know you’ve been passed out for the last like four hours.”

Nolan laughs, “You’re 100% right.”

Nolan sticks by your side for the rest of the night. He’s never been one for parties, even if all of his friends were there. You didn’t mind, having Nolan around allowed you to drink however much you wanted. You knew he’d keep you safe, and there wasn’t anything bad about having all of his attention. He’d been your partner for beer pong, ignoring the look Kacey was giving you from across the table. You had lost him eventually, after you insisted he danced along to the Blink 182 song that was playing on the speaker.

“Nols!” You say, finally finding him across the party, leaning against the wall on his phone, you step in his arms, the alcohol blurring the boundaries you usually set for yourself.

Nolan slipped his phone back into his pocket, one his hands moving to weave through your hair, “Ready to go?”

You nod, definitely ready to pass out. Nolan smiles, grabbing his skateboard he’d left right at the door, and your hand, walking right out the front door.

Your mouth curves up to a smile, “Nols…” you whine, trying your best to pout at the boy in front of you.

Nolan sighs, turning around so you could hop onto his back. You jump up, legs wrapping around his waist. Nolan drops his skateboard, stepping onto it and heading in the direction of your house. It wasn’t the first time you made Nolan carry you home, it was so easy when he just could.

“Are you ever going to get sick of this?” You mutter into his shoulder.

“Of what? Carrying you home?” Nolan asks, and you nod, “Nope.”

“You’re lying,” You tease, knowing there was no way Nolan hasn’t gotten sick of you yet. You’d been bothering him since the day he moved next door and you knew you wanted the rosy cheeked boy to be your best friend. Your eyes started to get heavy when Nolan finally hit your street, stopping in front of your house.

“Be sure to give me a five star rating,” Nolan says, bending down gently so he could get you down.

“Ride was a little bumpy, you can have four,” You say, opening the gate to the front of your house, “Get home safe Nols.”

Nolan rolled his eyes, waiting for you to walk into your house. He closed the gate behind you, walking over to his house to head to bed, checking his window one more time to make sure you were in bed before he fell asleep.

You walked around the small art supply store, the same place you’d been working in since you were sixteen. It was the best, you got a great employee discount and the older couple who owned it let you work when you were home from college. The bell above the door chimes, Nolan stepping into the store, two iced coffees in his hands.

“Is that Nolan?” Barbara, the owner of the store, called out as soon as he walked in, “Here to get Y/N into trouble?”

Nolan laughs, handing you your coffee and looking over to the older woman standing behind the counter, “If anything, I’m here to keep her out of trouble.”

You roll your eyes, “Hardly, Barb he can’t even tie his shoes.”

“I can! I just choose not too,” Nolan bickers back.

Barbara laughs at your antics, “You two are so funny, I’m going to run out, I think you guys can handle it?”

Nolan salutes the older woman while you snicker behind him, “I think she trusts us too much.”

“Us? It’s you she trusts too much,” Nolan says.

Nolan spends the rest of your shift at the store bothering you. He helped you stock the shelves, reading off the weird names of the paint bottles he was putting up. And when you asked Nolan why he was spending a beautiful summer day inside working with you, he just shrugs and tells you there's nothing he’d rather do.

Summer nights had always been spent the same. They were either at some party, the treehouse, or Nolan and yourself would just hang out in your room. He’d let you paint, setting up his own video games in your bedroom so he could keep you company. You both enjoyed your peace and quiet - but you enjoyed it even more with each other.

Tonight was one of those nights, you were standing in the corner of your room, a blank canvas in front of you. You’d been looking for inspiration for almost a week, just having no idea what to even work on. You tie your hair up into a bun, and you step back, hands fiddling with the end’s of the oversized t-shirt you had over your shorts.

“What’s up with you?” Nolan asks, his focus not breaking the game he was playing.

“I don’t know what to paint,” You huff, hands on your hips.

Your mind ponders for a minute, and you pull out the box of polaroids next to your bed. You dump them on your bed, hoping you took a picture that could spark something. Nolan pauses his game, moving to look at the picture you poured out. There were ones of him, and ones you took when you came to see him in Philly. There were images of your friends, your roommates at college, and your family. You took your camera with you everywhere, you just liked having the memories. Nolan pulls a photo up, of someone’s back painted with a scene of the beach.

“Oh that’s Kacey,” You say, it was something you’d seen on Instagram that you wanted to try.

“You could do that to me?” Nolan says, voice deeper than usual.

You think about it for a moment, Nolan was big, and quite frankly his back wasn’t a bad canvas, “Okay turn around.”

You move to grab some paint and some brushes, watching as Nolan grabs the back of his t-shirt, tossing it in the corner of your room. You shake any of the dirty thoughts that ran through your head as you sit next to him. Nolan turns to you, grabbing your leg and swinging it over his waist so you were straddling him, grabbing his controller and going back to his game. You take a deep breath, and get to work. You think about what you’re going to paint, but you just let your mind rest - painting whatever came to your mind at the moment.

“Tell me if the paint is too cold for you,” you say, moving to create some sort of base on his back.

“I think I can handle it, Y/N” Nolan deadpans.

You start to think about Nolan and the thing he loves most, painting a forest in the back that looked like the one at lake you’d both spent your summers at. You painted evergreen trees and a glimpse of the lake in the corner. Quite frankly, by the time you were done you were proud of yourself.

“Take a picture, I want to see,” Nolan says.

You grab your phone, snapping a photo and tossing it to Nolan, “This is sick, you should really draw me something to get tattooed.”

“You don’t trust me that much,” You say, glancing at the photo on your screen, “Can I post this on my Instagram story?”

You ask, you always did. Nolan was a private person, and you knew he liked it that way. It was better than having to deal with him when he was grumpy.

“Go for it,” Nolan smiles, “I should probably head out.”

“Don’t sleep with that on your back,” You scold, watching Nolan as he goes to climb out the window of your bedroom, “Use the door, we’re adults Nolan.”

“I’ll be fine,” Nolan assures you, climbing down just like he used to when you’d hang out all night instead of sleeping.

You clean up your brushes and paint, trying to shove the feelings about the way Nolan’s back muscles moved under your touch to the back of your mind, to be locked up forever. You slide into bed, checking your phone to see only one notification, a DM from TK.

Tell me that’s Nolan

With summer came a various string of weekends up at the lake with your friends. The older you’d gotten, the more fun the weekends had become. You were all almost adults, just riding out one of the last summers together, and you all decided to rent out the house you usually did, cause it might be one of the last times you do. You sat in the passenger seat of Nolan’s jeep, just like you always did. Your coffee in one hand, and Nolan’s phone in the other, mindlessly changing the songs for the ride. You glance over at Nolan, the roof was off his jeep, and his hair had hit the morning light just right. He looked good, he always did.

“Did you really have to tell TK that was me in your story? He hasn’t stopped making fun of me for days,” Nolan says, looking at you.

“You guys spend so much time together, I think he just knew,” You say, knowing they’re basically a married couple at this point.

Nolan shakes his head, turning up the street to the lake house. You spot all the cars that were already there, knowing you and Nolan had to have been the last people to arrive. You run inside, leaving Nolan to grab your bag out the trunk, running right into Kacey’s arms.

“Don’t be mad at me,” Kacey says, pulling back, “I miscounted and there’s one room left so you and Nolan are going to have to bunk up.”

Nolan walks in during Kacey’s sentence, “That’s fine, which one is it.”

Kacey points to the room upstairs, Nolan nodding, your bags already in his hands to bring upstairs. You turned to Kacey when he was out of earshot, “You did this on purpose.”

“If rooming together is all it would take to get you guys together, it’s not the rooming together it’s the fact that you guys are obsessed with each other,” Kacey says.

“Best friends, we are best friends,” You defended, you knew better though. Something was shifting between the two of you, but you didn’t know if it was from getting older or if it was something more.

Kacey shakes her head at you while you head up to your room, Nolan unpacking his stuff.

“You’re okay sharing a room?” you ask, knowing you could bunk with Kacey if you really had to.

“I’m fine with it, I’m going to go fishing with the boys for a bit, I’ll see you after?” Nolan says, stopping at the bedroom.

“No I’m actually going to go home,” you say sarcastically, unpacking your own bags.

You spend the rest of the afternoon next to the lake, getting a tan and day drinking with Kacey and the rest of your girlfriends. You guys head inside, setting up for the party you were throwing for the rest of your friends who’d been up at the lake too. You get dressed for the silly tourist theme you’d planned, tucking the terrible Hawaiian shirt you’d bought into the jean shorts you were wearing. Nolan pops out behind you and you take in his outfit, the shorts that hit above his knee, showing off his thigh tattoo, the Hawaiian shirt that matches yours, and his god awful mid calf socks. He had his vans on - and of course they were untied.

“You have the worst taste in fashion,” You laugh, Nolan striking a pose in response.

“Sorry we’re all not you, I can’t make this shirt look good,” Nolan says, poking at your sides gently, causing you to blush.

He walked out of the room and you took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. It was now or never with your feelings, you either had to tell him or you had to just get over him but you couldn’t keep pushing them down, it was going to drive you crazy. You move down to the party, seeing it’s in full swing already. You grab a drink, moving to go play drinking games with Kacey. After a few hours, you were a little buzzed but mostly sweating from the heat inside. You step out, walking over to the docks and staring out at the lake in front of you. You hear heavy footsteps behind you, and you knew it had to be Nolan.

“Needed a minute?” Nolan asks, knowing you would disappear from parties from time to time, and you nod because he was always right.

“Nols, can I ask you something?” You ask, your voice small, a tiny amount of courage guiding you to ask him a question that’d you wanted to ask since he got home, “Do things feel different between us?”

“Do you want them too?” Nolan asks, looking over at you with rosy cheeks, and a nervous look in his eyes.

“So badly,” You whisper, looking into his eyes that had gone soft at your words. Nolan leans in and you stop him for a moment, “Nolan this has to mean something to you too.”

“Everything, it means everything,” Nolan says finally, planting a kiss on your lips, your bodies molding together out on the dock underneath a twinkly night sky. It felt so right for your lips to be on his, your hands running through your hair, and hearing him finally say that he felt the same you have.

“So Philly?” Nolan asks, finally pulling away, the question he asked you when he first got home still burning.

“We’ll talk later,” You promise, stealing another kiss from his lips.

#nolan patrick #that's my greasy stoner boyfriend #nolan patrick imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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gloster · 4 years ago

Text

FAVORITE FANFICS OF 2020

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

I know I speak for all when I say....I cannot wait to toss 2020 out the door the way Uncle Phil constantly did with Jazz. One of the things that got me through this rough year, besides family & friends & BTS, were fanfics.

It’s that time of year again where I make a list of all the fanfics that I absolutely adored. Some are by veteran favs of mine, others are new to me who just knocked it out of the park. If you’re interested in past lists, here is 2019′s list and 2018′s. If y’all are interested in doing your own fanfic favs of the year, please do so and tag me. Always on the hunt for new favs.

So without furhter ado, my fav fanfics of 2020:

1). Another Word for Forever series by stardropdream (sheith)

Summary: Shiro knows better than to expect love in an arranged marriage. This is all for the sake of universal peace, after all, and solidifying a Terran-Galran alliance. At the very least, Shiro can hope to make a friend out of this. Becoming friends would be much easier, though, if he and his husband could actually communicate.

With a language barrier and a mountain of cultural differences between them, getting to know Keith proves to be a challenge. Luckily, Shiro's always worked well with challenges.

2020 shockingly became the year of sheith. I ended up rewatching the show w/my bestie @littlenightdragon. Diving more deeply into it w/my other bestie @kila09. She and I spent the better half of this year devouring so many fanfics of them in various AUs. I came across new fanfic authors, and stardropdream is among them.

If I could describe this series & stardropdream, I’ll take a cue from Lady Gaga: “ talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it”

This series was just PERFECTION. I’ve gotten into arranged-marriage AUs and this has been one of the best I’ve read. It was just perfection. The language barrier definitely added an extra charm to it, in which Shiro finds his own ways to get to know his husband better: both creative and funny ways. So many cute moments, so many funny moments with Hunk being the translating middle man between them, and the smut. THE SMUT. THE SMUT. THE SMUT. Just *chef’s kiss* Incredible. It was just so so sweet, and such a comfort read. I reread this series 5 times already and hope Robin (the writer) does more stories in this AU.

Please read this series. You’re not gonna regret it. It will MELT your heart.

Honorable Mentions:

If I Called You Mine

Sail Across the Sky Just to Get to You

Finding Shelter (The Alien Baby Remix)

Say You Do(n’t)

2). The Golden Hour by @goldentruth813 (sheith)

Summary:�� After a space mission failure, Shiro loses his arm and his career. Two years later he's settled into a quiet and simple new life on his farm, but when a beautiful alien crashes in his field, he discovers the answers to his questions—and possibly the keys to his future—will come from the stars.

I’m sure no one, least of all Janel the writer herself, is surprised to see this author featured on this list. For now the 3rd year in a row. WOOOW 👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿 She is the reason I got into shieth, and she just continues to put out amazing conent with them. This story by far has been the best she’s done this year-possibly one of the best ever.

We have Shiro trying to have a simple life at the farm with his dog and animals. A curious BOM Keith who shakes things up with his boldness/innocence-and questions bound to test blood pressure, especially Shiro’s. Loads of cute moments, loads of funny moments, and also loads of oreos.

If summary and my thoughts don’t sell you, only one thing will: reading it for yourself.

Honorable mentions:

Two Hearts in Bloom

Mountain Men

Home is in Your Heart

3). Spun like Gold by Neyasochi (sheith)

Summary: Though Shiro is currently operating his fledgling bakery business out of a decrepit food truck he got for cheap in a repossession sale, he dreams of something more: a cozy bakery and cafe on a tree-lined street somewhere, filled with the smell of fresh coffee and sugar glaze instead of diesel. A little money could go a long way to helping him get off the ground-- and luckily, Keith has money to burn.

Or: Keith takes care of Shiro’s financial woes, in exchange for a little sugar.

OMG, OMG, OMG was this story so sweet. Neyasochi already sold me with the baking/baker Shiro trope, but went a step further throwing in sugar-daddy Keith who knows his way around his manic family and cars, but when it comes to asking a cute guy out? What better way to make an impression than becoming his best paying customer?

Honorable mentions:

oh, devour me

Healing Touch

on your hand of gold

4). The Destiny You Sold by @tryslora (drarry)

Summary: In which Draco knits, Harry makes wands, and things get very tangled up between them.

If there’s one thing I love about fanfics is how they introduce you to tropes you never would consider before. Draco and knitting was a combo I didn’t realize how much I needed until now. And I love the fact knitting played a big part of the accidental bonding. Also loved the fact everyone in their friend group shipped them like crazy. Highly, highly recommend

5) What’s My Age Again? by @lazywonderlvnd (drarry)

Summary: Harry Potter has had enough of pleasing the public, and his reckless tendencies are finally getting out of hand.

The Quidditch World Cup is only a week away; as Captain of the English National Team, Hermione has assured him that his immaturity won’t be tolerated by the Ministry.

And then Malfoy shows up.

(Inspired by the blink-182 song of the same name.)

It’s no secret that I’m such a fangirl of @lazywonderlvnd. Any drarry story I read, I always love. Last year, I ADORED The Changing Lights, which was one of my favorites last year, and her updating/finishing the story was a massive highlight for me. I thank ya for that.

This story was honestly refreshing. I’ve grown so used to Harry being responsible, always doing what’s right, that seeing a story where Harry pretty much has his middle finger in the air to “good reputation”, “being responsible,” because as he brought up: “I’m 25. I’ve been fighting all my life. I’ve earned my life to have fun.”

Okay, granted, it wasn’t quite like that but it was along those lines. And I agree. After all he went through, Harry deserves to have fun. He deserves to be reckless and make stupid decisions.

Also, it was such a blast reading a story where Harry is the brat & Draco has to keep him in line. LOVED.

Honorable mentions:

Inside Your Mind

Aletheia

6). Chocolate and Pastry by agentmoppet, anemonen (drarry)

Summary: When Pansy bets Draco that there is no chance he and Harry could carry out a genuine romantic relationship, he and Harry form a plan. But as their fake relationship progresses, Draco sees a side of Harry he never expected. Harry is struggling with something, pushing it far down inside him where he doesn't have to acknowledge its existence. Draco starts to worry, and then he starts to care, and then... horribly... he starts to fall in love.

Do not let the title fool you like it did me. Title alone, I was thinking it was going to be a fun, fluffy story involving baking, maybe chocolate crafting. However....it was not that at all. It was more. A lot deeper. A lot more angsty. It explored mental health, PTSD and the dangers of loved ones ignoring the signs, and contained an important message:

You can’t love someone out of their illness/disease/ addiction. Which is true and this story showed that.

7). i’m still here by owedbetter (zutara)

Summary: "You see me."

And somehow, that makes all the difference.

If there’s one of the few good things 2020 has brought, it was Netflix bringing back ATLA to their library. Which in turn ignited my love for zutara & had me drag @kila09 into that ship.

This story was just incredible. The way it was written, it really felt like it could have been canon. Deleted scenes that a certain creator didn’t want us to see. The way Zuko and Katara came together, starting from their peaceful friendship after the Southern Raiders episode up, becoming closer along the way.

I dare y’all to read this and not think OMG...is this secret canon bonus material? I definitely plan to read more by owedbetter.

8). all the what ifs i never said by rosegardenlake (sheith)

Summary: Keith is nine when he first notices Shiro. Shiro is gentle and quiet, always keeping to himself. Keith is rough and loud, running wherever his feet will take him, screaming on the top of his lungs into the wind. But despite that, they're a constant throughout each other's lives...if only that could be enough. As they grow, Keith just wants them both to be happy, but instead, he's falling apart.

Rosegardenlake is another sheith writer who I adored last year & adore this year as well. This was a story that I read during the beginning of quarantine-life and when I tell you the number of times Keith’s emotions of loneliness got to me, it’s a big number.

Keith’s struggle with life after high school, after peaking in school, and his mental health reminded me too much of where I was at 2018, which wasn’t a good year for me at all, especially mentally. So that was triggering but it was also helpful since I saw how far I came. And it was beautiful seeing how far Keith came.

Also the relationship between Shiro and Keith was just beautiful. It’s very funny how Keith was Shiro’s protector growing up and Shiro became Keith’s later on in life. There’s a chance your heart may be heavy, but will also be so swelled up with feelings these two bring it.

Honorable mentions:

Where the Light Doesn’t Reach

9). When Night Comes by Oh_Hey_Tae (BTS; poly ot7)

Summary: Jungkook’s tipsy, but he’s not buzzed enough to miss that he doesn’t recognize any of the four dozen people here. And seeing as his friends aren’t ones to ditch and there’s no way they’d play a prank this mean on him, Jungkook reaches the conclusion that he just walked into a stranger’s very expensive home, uninvited, and started eating their food and petting their well-dressed dog.

(Or: Jungkook shows up to the wrong Halloween party and meets the most powerful family in Seoul.)

I can easily say Oh_Hey_Tae easily one of my favorite BTS fanfic favs. Always come through with the stories, and this one was just amazing. We have Jungkook stumbling into a Halloween story, and soon enters into a intense, insane relationship with all six guys, who are already in a relationship with each other. Oh, and supernatural creatures at that.

You do see certain relationships are stronger, deeper. For example, a lot of moments between Jin and Jungkook. Vmin has their own story and moments. But it was just so amazing.

Fair warning. Halfway through, things get darker and Oh_My_Tae really loves playing readers diirty with the angst, but it’s so good.

10). peace-weaver by magisterpavus (sheith)

Summary: You will be the peace-weaver, his mother told him, smiling though her dark eyes welled with unshed grief. The one who brings two bitter enemies together and ends the bloodshed and death between us, once and for all.

But men will always crave war. The Galra, most of all.

Yet another arranged-marriage AU that I loved. This particular one is well-loved in the sheith fandom. I can definitely say it’s considered one of the classic fanfics that’s been read or shared at one point or another.

The story itself reminded me a lot of Macbeth, involving murder and dark forces at bay. The dynamics between Shiro and Keith reminded me of Drogo and Daenerys from GOT, one of my fav couples there, which only made it all the more better for me.

I do credit the author for the creative approach they took with quintessence and Shiro’s role/persona as the Champion

Honorable mentions:

The Boy in the Window

Sheith Demon/Priest AU

A Matter of Scale

Directive

Honorable mentions that I seriously wanted to add to the list but this post is already lengthy. All amazing, all greats reads by various writers y’all should check out:

Hold Me Tight, or Don’t by snowfallen (yoonmin with a Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU featuring assassins and hitmen, secret identities, fake marriage, and a lot of smut)

The Prince and Pirate by Maniacani, @nerdherderette (drarry with a splash of royalty and pirates. Perfect if you’re needing to fill in any Pirates of the Caribbean or Black Sails cravings)

First Kisses are the Best Ones by SashaDistan (sheith in a 50 First Dates Fusion heartfelt/heart-gutting story)

freely, as men strive for right by @bixgirl1 (drarry w/Harry explaining the many ways why Draco’s the love of his life. we love to see it)

The Sacrificed by SasuNarufan13 (sasunaru w/ dark fairytale elements similar to Little Red Riding Hood & Beauty and the beast + feat. mpreg)

Chasing Treacle Tart (and Draco Malfoy) by xErised (drarry feat. lunch lady Draco + scheming Harry + loads of fun w/sweets & more)

Red Desert by @beatitudinembty (taekook in a unique sci-fi AU; hard to explain but so worth a read

one way ticket to another life by starboykeith (sheith Hades x Persephone background)

Even So by lewilder (zutara; arranged marriage+ language barrier +soft strangers to lovers)

Well, lovely people, there you have it. My top 10 favorite fanfics of the year. I do notice a certain ship shows up a lot on this list, but I wasn’t kidding when I said they took over this year. Still, I tried to mix the list up with other fav ships/fandoms of mine. To the writers who created these incredible stories. I applaud you. I thank you for creating and sharing these wonderful stories. Anyone interested in doing the tag, please do.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, GUYS

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dessarious · 4 years ago

Text

What Makes a Family? Pt6

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

Marinette studied her family, old and new. Her parents were obviously still worried about Alfred influencing her but that was a fear she’d have to break with time. Luka and Kagami trusted her judgement and she trusted them not to overreact. Her new Grandfather seemed content rolling with the punches and staying in her comfort zone. Chloe… well she was still glaring at Alfred. The girl had adopted a ridiculously overprotective big sister persona once she and Marinette had made peace. Most of the time it was endearing but right now it wasn’t likely to help.

“Grandpa Alfie, would you like to see my garden?” Alfred blinked at her and she had to hide a smile. It was obvious the man was used to being prepared and it was fun surprising him. Before he could answer, her mother jumped in.

“Sweetheart, do you really think that’s a good idea?” There was a warning in her tone and Marinette fought not to sigh.

“Maman, everything will be fine. We’ll still be in the house and I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” It was obvious the man would be more willing to talk to her alone and while she had no intention of changing her life, she did want to hear what he had to say. If her birth father really did want a relationship with her, the least she could do was listen and get all the information she could before making a decision. Her parents still looked less than thrilled. “This is something I need to do, and I’d really like your support.”

“Oh, Mari, of course.” Both her parents tripped over themselves to assure her that they’d always support her decisions. It was a little bit of a dirty trick on her part, but it was the quickest way out of the argument. Alfred was studying her again and she had a feeling he knew exactly what she’d done.

“Do you want any of us to come with you?” Kagami’s tone was bordering on hostile so Marinette shook her head. None of them were calm enough except Luka, but she had a feeling she’d get a lot more information if she was alone with the man anyway.

“Well, he hasn’t even said yes yet, but I think he’d prefer to talk to me alone.” No one seemed happy about it but they all did eventually nod.

“I’d love to see your garden Miss Marinette.” She gave the man a full wattage smile and noticed the suspicion in his eyes. This should be interesting.

“Wonderful, follow me.” She led Alfred up to her room and out to her balcony before anyone could protest further. While she was proud of her herbs and flowers, she knew they both had other reasons for being up here. After taking a deep breath to calm herself she turned to her new Grandfather. “You have concerns.” Best to rip the bandaid off.

“A few Miss.” He seemed surprised that she’d noticed. She was still just annoyed that he insisted on calling her Miss. She was going to break that habit if it was the last thing she did. “The way I’ve seen you interact with people so far is a bit alarming. Not to mention the… devotion they have for you.” Marinette blew out a frustrated sigh. Him being so observant was going to be a challenge.

“How much do you know about the situation here in Paris?” His confused frown was not what she’d been expecting. Great.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what exactly you’re referring to Miss.” She knew that the world at large wasn’t aware of anything strange in Paris, but she’d thought someone with a worldwide business would have at least caught wind of it. Apparently she underestimated the Miraculous magic.

“Please Grandpa Alfie, at least drop the Miss and just call me Marinette. And please sit. I have a feeling this is going to be a very long conversation.” He remained silent, but he did sit. Where did she even start? “I’m sure this will come as a bit of a shock, and I’m sure you’ll want to verify it yourself, but Paris is being terrorized by a madman with a magical artifact. Has been for four years actually.”

“That is not possible.” She could tell the words were more instinctual than anything else. He composed himself quickly though. “My apologies, but I can’t see how we wouldn’t have heard of it if that were the case.” Honestly, she didn’t either. The Kwami had tried to explain it to her, multiple times. Something about restored timelines and only those affected really being able to focus on it long enough to know it was real in the first place. It just gave her a headache and she still didn’t really understand.

“As I said, the villain and the heroes are using magic. Some part of the magic is somehow stopping the information from making it out of Paris. No one really understands it, but it’s the truth. As I said, I’m sure you’ll want to verify it but in order to do so you’ll most likely have to go through an attack yourself to lift the haze.” That’s what people had started calling it, stupid name though it was. The further away from Paris you got, the more hazy your memory of the attacks, and until you’d actually experienced it yourself any news footage seemed to be pure fiction. It was good and bad. Alfred was still frowning at her with disbelief all over his face.

“Even if that’s true, I’m not sure how it’s relevant Miss.” She crossed her arms and glowered at him, waiting. It was a tense silence for a few minutes until he finally sighed. “You are definitely your father’s daughter. I still don’t see how this is relevant, Marinette.” She just grinned at him.

“Well you pointed out the devotion my friends and parents have for me. We’ve basically been living in a warzone for four years. While Ladybug’s cure fixes physical damage and reverses death, we’ve all been heavily traumatized. What you’ve noticed in our behavior is likely due to that trauma and the fact that in order not to be taken over by Hawkmoth we have to carefully regulate our emotions.”

“What do you mean taken over?” It was so strange having to explain this to someone. The real question was how much detail could she go into without making it obvious she knew more than she should. She sat across from him and tried to find the easiest way to make things make sense to him.

“Okay, so the heroes and villains all get their powers from magical artifacts called Miraculous. Each Miraculous has specific powers. Hawkmoth, the main villain, is able to send out corrupted butterflies called Akumas to give powers to others and basically take them over. He does this by taking advantage of people’s negative emotions. The victims don’t remember anything once Ladybug has purified the Akuma and it’s not their fault. All the people you met downstairs have been Akumatized at least once. They rely heavily on me and each other to keep their negative emotions to a minimum so it doesn’t happen again.”

“They’ve all been Akumatized, but you haven’t?” She honestly hadn’t expected him to catch that, but she probably should have. She gave a single nod in response. “Why do you think that is?” She shot him a look that said she knew what he was doing, but she answered anyway.

“I’ve always been a fairly positive and upbeat person. Yes, I do tend to be a bit dramatic at times, but it doesn’t usually last long enough to attract an Akuma. I have had a couple close calls but I was lucky enough to see it coming in time to focus on the good things in my life.”

“Such as?” He was testing her. She wondered if there was more to it than simply trying to assess how she was likely to take advantage of this new found connection, but she had a feeling she’d find out soon enough.

“Well, my friends and family for starters. You saw how much they love me. They’re all fiercely protective and will always have my back. If that’s not something to be happy about, I don’t know what is.” His look softened considerably and she felt like she’d passed some sort of test.

“Yes Marinette, that is certainly a good reason to be happy.” Progress! She didn’t even have to prompt him to use her name that time.

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flightfoot · 4 years ago

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Tower of Nero quotes

So since I’m planning on writing some analyses for Tower of Nero, I decided to assemble my usual catalogue of quotes, so I won’t have to constantly flip through looking for them and typing them up hopefully. This is based on the kinds of analyses and things I want to talk about or just found interesting, but hey, I figure other people may find this useful as well.

Beware of spoilers, because no duh.

It was a silly thing to say, but some stubborn part of me insisted that Percy Jackson must be here somewhere, waiting to do dangerous tasks for me. That was his job!

But no. That was the old Apollo’s way of thinking - the Apollo I’d been the last time I was in this apartment. Percy was entitled to his own life. He was trying to have one, and - oh, the bitter truth! - it had nothing to do with me. (TON 37)

“Paul...” I ventured. “Aren’t you worried about having us here? We might endanger your family.”

The corners of his mouth tightened. “I was at the Battle of Manhattan. I’ve heard about some of the horrible things Sally went through - fighting the Minotaur, being imprisoned in the Underworld. And Percy’s adventures?” He shook his head in respect. “Percy has put himself on the line for us, for his friends, for the world, plenty of times. So, can I risk giving you a place to catch your breath, some fresh clothes, and a hot meal? Yeah, how could I not?” (TON 40-41)

What was it about kindness? In my time as Lester Papadopoulos, I had learned to stand up under horrendous verbal abuse and constant life-threatening violence, but the smallest act of generosity could ninja-kick me right in the heart and break me into a blubbering mess of emotions.

Damn you, Paul and Sally, and your cute baby too!

How could I repay them for providing me with this temporary refuge? I felt like I owed them the same thing I owed Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood, the Waystation and the Cistern, Piper and Frank and Hazel and Leo and, yes, especially Jason Grace. I owed them everything.

How could I not? (TON 41)

Sally Jackson crossed her arms. In spite of the grim matters we were discussing, she smiled. “You’ve grown up.”

I assumed she was talking about Meg. Over the last few months, my young friend had indeed gotten taller and- Wait. Was Sally referring to me?

My first thought: Preposterous! I was four thousand years old. I didn’t grow up.

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “The last time you were here, you were so lost. So... well, if you don’t mind me saying-”

“Pathetic,” I blurted out. “Whiny, entitled, selfish. I felt terribly sorry for myself.”

Meg nodded along with my words as if listening to her favorite song. “You still feel sorry for yourself.”

“But now,” Sally said, sitting back again, “you’re more... human, I suppose.”

There was that word again: human, which not long ago I would’ve considered a terrible insult. Now, every time I heard it, I thought of Jason Grace’s admonition: Remember what it’s like to be human.

He hadn’t meant all the terrible things about being human, of which there were plenty. He meant the best things: standing up for a just cause, putting others first, having stubborn faith that you could make a difference, even if it meant you had to die to protect your friends and what you believed it. These were not the kinds of feelings gods had... well, ever.

Sally Jackson meant the term in the same way Jason had - as something worth aspiring to. (TON 45-46)

And are you any better? taunted a small voice in my brain. How many times have you stood up to Zeus?

Okay, small voice. Fair point. Tyrants are not easy to oppose or walk away from, especially when you depend on them for everything. (TON 57)

I already felt disconnected from reality. I couldn’t concentrate. I didn’t know who I was, who I was supposed to be, or even who I wanted to be. I was getting emotional whiplash from my exhilarating surges of godlike power, my depressing crashes back into mortal frailty, and my adrenaline-charged bouts of terror. In such a condition, approaching Dionysus was asking for trouble. Just being near him could widen the cracks in anyone’s psyche. (TON 76-77)

Dionysus eyed me with a mixture of shock and horror, much the same way I looked at myself in the mirror these days. (TON 77)

In retaliation, Dionysus decided to look and act as ungodly as possible. He was like a child refusing to tuck in his shirt, comb his hair, or brush his teeth, just to show his parents how little he cared. (TON 78)

“Dad!” Will shot to his feet. He ran down the steps and tackled me in a hug.

That’s when I lost it. I wept openly.

My beautiful son, with his kind eyes, his healer’s hands, his sun-warm demeanour. Somehow, he had inherited all my best qualities and none of the worst. (TON 80)

“I figured you’d come back to camp eventually,” he said. “I hoped you would, anyway. I wanted you to feel at home.”

It was enough to start me crying again. Gods, I was an emotional wreck. Will hadn’t inherited his thoughtfulness from me. That was all his mother, Naomi, bless her kind heart. (TON 87-88)

“You’ve grown up!” Kayla gripped my shoulders with her archery-strong hands. The June sunlight made her freckles more pronounced. The green tinted tips of her orange hair made me think of Halloween-pumpkin candy. “You’re two inches taller at least! Isn’t he, Austin?” (TON 88)

I wanted to tell them that they were all so young. Their lifespans were a blink of an eye compared to my four millennia. I should be wrapping them all in warm blankets and giving them cookies rather than expecting them to be heroes, slay monsters, and buy me clothes. (TON 90)

“Nico has been having... I guess you’d call it post-traumatic stress disorder. He gets flashbacks. He has waking dreams. Dionysus has been trying to help him make sense of it all. The worst part is the voices.” (TON 93)

I frowned at Dionysus. “You could always, oh, I don’t know, decide to help.”

He scoffed. “You know as well as I do, Apollo, that quests like this are demigod business. As for advising, guiding, helping... that’s really more Chiron’s job.” (TON 99)

I wondered, bitterly, if there was anyone I hadn’t neglected, hurt, or overlooked during my time as a mortal - strike that - during my four thousand years of existence, period. I could only be grateful that my shoes were not sentient. Or my underwear. Gods, I would never be able to stop apologizing. (TON 110)

“I betrayed you once,” she said. “Right here in these woods.” She didn’t sound sad or ashamed about it, the way she once might have. She spoke with a sort of dreamy disbelief, as if trying to recall the person she’d been six months ago. That was a problem I could relate to. (TON 114)

“I have to go back,” Meg insisted. “I have to see if I’m strong enough.”

Peaches cuddled up next to her as if he had no such concerns.

Meg patted his leafy wings. “Maybe I’ve gotten stronger. But when I go back to the palace, will it be enough? Can I remember to be who I am now and not... who I was then?”

I didn’t think she expected an answer. But it occurred to me that perhaps I should be asking myself that same question.

Since Jason Grace’s death, I’d spent sleepless nights wondering if I could keep my promise to him. Assuming I made it back to Mount Olympus, could I remember what it was like to be human, or would I slip back into being the self-centered god I used to be?

Change is a fragile thing. It requires time and distance. Survivors of abuse, like Meg, have to get away from their abusers. Going back to that toxic environment was the worst thing she could do. And former arrogant gods like me couldn’t hang around other arrogant gods and expect to stay unsullied.

But I supposed Meg was right. Going back was the only way to see how strong we’d gotten, even if it meant risking everything. (TON 114-115)

“So now you believe the Trogs exist?” Nico asked.

“I am learning to believe in all sorts of things that can kill me!” (TON 136)

If my trials as a mortal had done anything, they had shown me how many times I’d abandoned, forgotten, and failed my Oracle over the centuries. I could not abandon Rachel in the same way. I’d neglected the basic truth that they did not serve me; I was supposed to serve them. (TON 158)

Nico smirked. “Friends, meet my glow-in-the-dark boyfriend.”

“Could you not make a big deal about it?” Will asked. (TON 163)

“Rachel, I’m scared,” I admitted. “It was one thing thinking about putting myself in danger. But the entire camp? Everyone?”

Strangely, this comment seemed to please her.

She took my hand. “I know, Apollo. And the fact that you’re worried about other people? That’s beautiful. But you’ll have to trust me.” (TON 175)

When he’d told me to remember being human, he’d meant building on pain and tragedy, overcoming it, learning from it. That was something gods never did. We just complained.

To be human is to move forward, adapt, to believe in your ability to make things better. That is the only way to make the pain and sacrifice mean something.

I met Rachel’s gaze.”I trust you. I’ll make things right. Or I will die trying.”

The strange thing was, I meant it. A world in which the future was controlled by a giant reptile, where hope was suffocated, where heroes sacrificed their lives for nothing, and pain and hardship could not yield a better life... that seemed much worse than a world without Apollo. (TON 176-177)

Not one deserved to be snuffed out by Nero’s cruelty. The revelation stunned me. I had become a human-life hoarder! (TON 182)

“I’m so sorry”, I managed at last.

“No, no,” Jason said. “I made my choice. You’re not to blame. You don’t owe me anything except to remember what I said. Remember what’s important.”

“You’re important,” I said. “Your life!”

Jason tilted his head. “I mean... sure. But if a hero isn’t ready to lose everything for a greater cause, is that person really a hero?”

He weighted the word person subtly, as if to stress it could mean a human, a faun, a dryad, a griffin, a pandos... even a god. (TON 218-219)

As a god of healing, I knew something about psychology and mental health, though I’ll admit I did not always best practices to myself. (TON 225)

I knew my anxiety about my own weakness was getting mixed up with my anxiety about Meg. Even if I somehow made my way back to Mount Olympus, I didn’t trust myself to hold onto the important things I’d learned as a mortal. That made me doubt Meg’s ability to stay strong in her old toxic home.

The similarities between Nero’s household and my family on Mount Olympus made me increasingly uneasy. The idea that we gods were just as manipulative, just as abusive as the worst Roman emperor... Surely that couldn’t be true.

Oh, wait. Yes, it could. Ugh. I hated clarity. (TON 225-226)

I found myself back in the caverns of Delphi, volcanic gasses layering the air, the dark shape of Python moving heavily in the background.

“So, I have you again,” he gloated. “You shall perish-”

“I don’t have time for you right now.” My voice surprised me almost as mush as it did the reptile.

“What?”

“Gotta go.” I lashed the reins of my dream.

“How dare you! You cannot-”

I rocketed into reverse like I was tied to a rubber band. (TON 233)

We both knew that, under most circumstances, Meg was fully capable of rescuing herself. But with Nero... I suspected Lu, like me, wanted Meg to be strong enough to save herself. We couldn’t make the hard choices for her. Yet it was excruciating to stand by while Meg’s sense of independence was tested. (TON 244)

But now, after knowing Lu, I wondered how many of these Germani really wanted to serve Nero, and how many had been conscripted into his service with no choice. Enough people had died. My grudge was with only one person, Nero, and one reptile, Python. (TON 250)

“Well, no, not Mr. D,” Nico said. “You know how it is. Gods don’t fight demigod battles. Present company excepted.” (TON 263)

Austin and I had gotten to know each other - not just as god and mortal, or father and son, but as two people working side by side, helping each other get through our often messed-up lives. (TON 273)

My heart broke. Meg looked elegant, older, and quite beautiful. She also looked utterly, completely no longer herself. Nero had tried to strip way everything she had been, every choice she’d made, and replace her with someone else - a proper young lady of the Imperial Household. (TON 285-286)

I tried to contain my horror. “Meg,” I said. “There’s only one person you need to listen to here: yourself. Trust yourself.”

I meant it, despite all my doubts and fears, despite all my complaints over the months about Meg being my master. She had chosen me, but I had also chosen her. I did trust her - not in spite of her past with Nero, but because of it. I had seen her struggle. I’d admired her hard-won progress. I had to believe in her for my own sake. She was - gods help me - my role model. (TON 293)

“I didn’t kill my father,” she said, her voice small and hard. “I didn’t cut off Lu’s hands or enslave those dryads or twist us all up inside.” She swept a hand towards the other demigods of the household. “You did that, Nero. I hate you.” (TON 295)

“Lu has immortality,” I said, “because you’re immortal. The two of you have been connected for centuries.”

Nero’s eye twitched. “But that’s my eternal life! You can’t trade my life for my life!” (TON 309)

Python had always been the real power behind the throne - a bigger puppet master than Nero’s mother ever had been. Like most bullies, Nero had been shaped and manipulated by an even stronger abuser. (TON 310)

Nero hissed. “Ungrateful child. The Beast-”

“The Beast is dead.” Meg tapped the side of her head. “I killed it.” (TON 311)

Rachel pulled out a blue plastic hairbrush and threw it at the nearest barbarian, beaning him in the eye and making him howl.

Sorry I underestimated you, Rachel, I thought distantly. You’re actually kind of a hairbrush ninja. (TON 313)

"You - cannot - take - it - Lester!” Nero said through clenched teeth, pulling with all his might.

“I am Apollo,” I said, tugging the opposite direction. “And I - revoke - your - divinity!” (TON 317)

“Hasn’t he proved himself already?” Artemis demanded. My heart ached, seeing my sister again. “He’s suffered more in these last few months than even you could have expected! Whatever lesson you were trying to teach him, dear Father, he’s learned it!” (TON 319)

“This has gone on long enough. Too much loss. Too much pain. But if my husband insists on seeing it through, the least you all can do is not talk about Apollo as if he’s already dead!” (TON 320)

Then I was back in my mortal form, looking up not at the Olympians, but at the faces of my friends (TON 320)

I alternated drinking my nectar and Mountain Dew, which was sort of like alternating between premium gasoline and regular gasoline. (TON 323)

Meg had thrown away her sandals, braving bare feet despite the arrows, rubble, bones, and discarded blades that littered the floor. Someone had given her an orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, which she’d put on over her dress, making her allegiance clear. She still looked older and more sophisticated, but she also looked like my Meg. (TON 323)

I considered that perhaps courage was a self-perpetuating cycle, like abuse. Nero had hoped to create miniature, tortured versions of himself because that made him feel stronger. Meg had found the strength to oppose him because she saw how much her foster siblings needed her to succeed, to show them another way.

There were no guarantees. The imperial demigods had dealt with so much for so long, some of them might never be able to come back from the darkness. Then again, there had been no guarantees for Meg, either. There were still no guarantees that I would come back from the caverns of Delphi. All any of us could do was try, and hope that in the end, the virtuous cycle would break the vicious one. (TON 324)

Even if I survived, I would not be the same. The best I could hope for was to emerge from Delphi with my godhood restored, which was what I had wanted and dreamed about for the past half a year. So why did I feel so reluctant about leaving behind the broken, battered form of Lester Papadopolous?

“Just come back to me dummy, that’s an order.” Meg gave me a gentle hug, conscious of my injuries. Then she got to her feet and ran off to check on the imperial demigods - her former family, and possibly her family yet to be. (TON 327)

“We all have a duty to rescue each other, wouldn’t you say?”

I nodded, wondering how the centaur had become so wise over the centuries, and why that same wisdom had escaped me until I had been Lesterized. (TON 328)

I felt a tingly sensation of power building just under my skin - perhaps my divine self, trying to reassert itself in the proximity of my old arch-enemy. I hoped it was that and not just my mortal body combusting (TON 332)

Deep breath. This was for Meg. This was for Jason. This was for everyone who had fought and sacrificed to drag my sorry mortal butt from quest to quest for the last six months, just to get me this chance at redemption (TON 333)

And yet, along with humility, I’d learned something else: getting humiliated is the beginning, not the end. Sometimes you need a second shot, and a third, and a fourth. (TON 335)

“YOU CAN’T HIDE!” Python bellowed. “YOU ARE NO GOD!”

This pronouncement hit me like a bucket of ice water. It didn’t carry the weight of prophecy, but it was true nonetheless. At the moment, I wasn’t sure what I was. I certainly wasn’t my old godly self. I wasn’t exactly Lester Papadopolous either. My flesh steamed. Pulses of light flickered under my skin, like the sun trying to break through storm clouds. When had that started?

I was between states, morphing as rapidly as Python himself. I was no god. I would never be the same old Apollo again. But in this moment, I had the chance to decide what I would become, even if that new existence only lasted a few seconds.

The realization burned away my delirium.

“I won’t hide,” I muttered. “I won’t cower. That’s not who I will be.” (TON 339-340)

I had done my best. Surely, Zeus would see that and be proud. Maybe he would send down a lightning bolt, blast Python into tiny pieces, and save me!

As soon as I thought this, I realized how foolish it was. Zeus didn’t work that way. He would not save me anymore than Nero had saved Meg. I had to let go of that fantasy. I had to save myself. (TON 341)

The prophecy came true. Apollo fell, and Python fell with me. (TON 346)

The river sapped my memories, my emotions, my will. It pried open the burning cracks in my Lester Papadopoulos shell, making me feel raw and unmade like a molting dragonfly. (TON 348)

I held onto my purpose. I remembered Meg McCaffrey’s last order: Come back to me, my dummy. Her face remained clear in my mind. She had been abandoned so many times, used so cruelly. I would not be another cause of grief for her. I knew who I was. I was her dummy. (TON 348)

Wow, Apollo, you marvel. How did you survive?

I didn’t.

But at that point I was no longer Lester Papadopoulos. I was not Apollo. I was not sure who or what I was (TON 349)

“Have you learned?” she asked.

If I hadn’t felt so weak, I might have laughed. I had learned, all right. I was still learning.

At that moment, I realized I’d been thinking of the Styx the wrong way all these months. She hadn’t put destruction in my path. I’d caused it myself. She hadn’t gotten me into trouble. I was the trouble. She had merely called out my recklessness. (TON 353)

Why couldn’t I let go, then? I kept clinging to the edge with stubborn determination. My wayward pinky found its grip again. I had promised Meg I would return to her. I hadn’t sworn it as an oath, but that didn’t matter. If I said I would do it, I had to follow through.

Perhaps that was what Styx had been trying to teach me: it wasn’t about how loudly you swore your oath, or what sacred words you used. It was about whether or not you meant it. And whether your promise was worth making.

Hold on, I told myself, to both the rock and the lesson.

My arms seemed to become more substantial. My body felt more real. The lines of light wove together until my form was a mesh of solid gold.

Was it just a last hopeful hallucination, or did I just pull myself up? (TON 354)

I rose with a sob and hugged her tight. All my pain was gone. I felt perfect. I felt... I almost thought, like myself again, but I wasn’t even sure what that meant anymore.

I was a god again. For so long, my deepest desire was to be restored. But instead of feeling elated, I wept on my sister’s shoulder. I felt like if I let go of Artemis, I would fall back into Chaos. Huge parts of my identity would shake loose, and I would never be able to find all the puzzle pieces. (TON 355)

My chest was bronze and perfectly sculpted. My muscular arms bore no scars or fiery lines glowing beneath the surface. I was gorgeous, which made me feel melancholy. I had worked hard for those scars and bruises. All the suffering my friends and I had been through... (TON 355)

I felt awkward and uncomfortable in this form, as if I’d been given a Rolls-Royce to drive but no car insurance to go with it. I’d felt so much more comfortable in my economy-compact Lester. (TON 357)

I remembered my dream of the throne room - the other Olympians gambling on my success or failure. I wondered how much money they’d lost.

What could I possibly say to them? I no longer felt like one of them. I wasn’t one of them. (TON 358)

My poor Hyacinthus. Had I really created these flowers to commemorate him, or to wallow in my own grief and guilt? I found myself questioning many things I had done over the centuries. Strangely enough, this uneasiness felt somewhat reassuring.

I studied my smooth tan arms, wishing again that I had retained a few scars. Lester Papadopoulos had earned his cuts, bruises, broken ribs, blistered feet, acne... Well perhaps not the acne. No one deserves that. But the rest had felt more like symbols of victory than laurels, And better commemorations of loss than hyacinths. (TON 358-359)

I turned and strode out of my room, trying to recall how the god Apollo walked (TON 359)

As much as we pretended to be a council of twelve, in truth we were a tyranny. Zeus was less a benevolent father and more an iron-fisted leader with the biggest weapons and the ability to strip us of our immortality if we offended him. (TON 366)

My father coughed into his fist. “ I know you think your punishment was harsh, Apollo.”

I did not answer. I tried my best to keep my expression polite and neutral.

“But you must understand,” Zeus continued, “only you could have overthrown Python. Only you could have freed the Oracles. And you did it, as I expected. The suffering, the pain along the way... regrettable, but necessary. You have done me proud.”

Interesting how he put that: I had done him proud. I had been useful in making him look good. My heart did not melt. I did not feel that this was a warm-and-fuzzy reconciliation with my father. Let’s be honest: some fathers don’t deserve that. Some fathers aren’t capable of it.

I suppose I could have raged at him and called him bad names. We were alone. He probably expected it. Given his awkward self-consciousness at the moment, he might even have let me get away with it unpunished.

But it would not have changed him. It would not have made anything different between us.

You cannot change a tyrant by trying to out-ugly him. Meg could never have changed Nero, any more than I could change Zeus. I could only try to be different than him. Better. More... human. And to limit the time I spent around him to as little as possible. (TON 367-368)

I still didn’t feel like my old self. I didn’t want to feel like my old self. (TON 371)

When I’d first met Meg, she’d assured me that Lester’s appearance was perfectly normal. At the time, the notion had horrified me. Now I found it reassuring. (TON 371)

Ugly weeping would not have been appropriate for a major Olympian god, so that’s exactly what I did. (TON 372)

To be honest, though, I could no longer consider my time on Earth a punishment. Terrible, tragic, nearly impossible... yes. But calling it a punishment gave Zeus too much credit. It had been a journey - an important one I made for myself, with the help of my friends. I hoped... I believed that the grief and pain had shaped me into a better person. I had forged a more perfect Lester from the dregs of Apollo. I would not trade those experiences for anything. And if I had been told I had to be Lester for another hundred years... Well, I could think of worse things. At least I wouldn’t be expected to show up at the Olympian solstice meetings. (TON 373)

She laid her hand on my arm. “You haven’t forgotten. I can tell.”

She meant about being human, about honoring the sacrifices that had been made.

“No,” I said. “I won’t forget. The memory is part of me now.” (TON 390)

It would have been inconceivable to the old Apollo, but the idea of aging in this lovely desert tree house, watching Meg grow into a strong and powerful woman... that didn’t sound bad at all. (TON 394)

Call on me. I will be there for you. (TON 396)

#trials of apollo #ton spoilers #tower of nero #the tower of nero #tower of nero spoilers #the trials of apollo

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punkpal · 4 years ago

Text

Get To Know Me Better! (tag game)

@tidal-wav3s thanks for tagging me dude!!

Fav color: Lots of people get surprised when i say this but pink has and always will be my favourite colour.

Last song I listened to: Four Walls - While She Sleeps

Fav musicians/bands: God i have so many but the first few that come to mind are Parkway Drive, My Chemical Romance, Five Finger Death Punch, Green Day, Architects, All Time Low, A Day to Remember, Hellions, Slipknot, Secrets, Ocean Grove, Korn, In Hearts Wake, Awaken I Am, Whilst She Sleeps, Slowly Slowly, Young Lions, Trophy Eyes, The Plot In You, Queen, The Maine, Linkin Park, Hands Like House, AD/DC, Evanescence, Dream On Dreamer, Asking Alexandria, Crown The Empire, Camp Cope, Bring Me the Horizon, System of a Down, Disturbed, The Used, Brand New, Blink-182, Bad Omens, Tonight Alive, Stick To Your Guns and lots lots more. When i was putting together this list i was gonna make it a max of 10 bands but then i kept thinking of more and more and eventually i just had to stop otherwise this list would become novel length. Basically the consensus is i like lots of music and any of the band i reblog shit from are favs.

Last film I watched: Sicario and it was shit so take my word and don’t fucking bother.

Last tv show I watched: I just finished rewatching The Umbrella Academy season 1 to get myself psyched for season 2. I also just finished watching the netflix mini series documentary ‘Unabomber: In his own words’ which was pretty good. And I am also currently binging The Office (US) and am just starting season 8.

Fav original character: So i am writing (admittedly mostly just in my head although a little less then a quarter has been written as a rough draft on a word doc) a rather length fantasy/vampire novel. Its part romance, part drama, part revenge fantasy, part anarchist vigilante revolution au and tbh part me just self projecting my trauma and dysfunctional life onto my characters... And whilst it likely will never see the light of day because of my lack of motivation to write the entire thing down and instead just reference it when i am day dreaming. I really vibe with the alternative universe as an escape from the real one i am living in and i have a vested interest in the characters i have created in it. And whilst there are numerous ocs from this that i have put an alarmingly long amount of time (literally years) into developing all of which i love and adore i do have two favourites. One named Taylor who is a gay 2946 year old idiot/himbo (vampire obviously). He is hot, sweet, kind, caring, funny, understanding, stubborn, the mum™️ friend, a romantic fool with a a hint of mummy issues and anger problems and a complete fucking allergy to guilt. And the other is his prodigy/person he turned vampire named Meredith. She is 354 year old hot mess and is kinda the opposite of him in that she is homicidal, manipulative, cunning, devious, fearless (almost to a fault), strong willed women. Who is very smart, has a strong/forward and somewhat off putting personality, low key a bit of a bitch but is very protective of those she loves and has good morals and the desire to right all wrongs even if through violent revenge if she sees fit. She is the leader of a criminal underworld revolution seeking to bring revenge and justice to the powerful and untouchable evils of the world. And he is her loyal side kick that lets her run the show as she is a natural born leader, but also works as a the voice of reason and logic to her. All the while having his own sub plot of being torn between chasing his love interest despite the danger it possesses. Or sacrificing his own desire for connection and love for fear of the consequences despite it meaning living a sad and eternally lonely life. Thats just a very brief summery of those two. They have a very close but complicated relationship with each other, like annoying siblings but imagine if you had to live with your siblings for centuries. And they all have there flaws (some more obvious then others) as well as dark, morbid and tragic histories but it makes them what the are today both the good, the bad and the downright problematic. And yeah i’d like to think one day i will write this out properly and others will read it and connect to or relate to these characters. Maybe love them, maybe hate them, maybe initially hate them, like is designed with Meredith, but come to truly love her once they begin to understand her and see her potential thats hidden under layers of ‘don’t fuck with me’. But until then they are my characters to play around with and build upon and thats exactly what i intend to do.

Sweet, spicy, or savory: Sweet!

Sparkling water, tea, or coffee: Can i say hot chocolate or juice?

Pets: Living with me is my son and best friend Gideon (he is a adult black male cat i adopted a year ago and he is the best thing that has ever happened to me.) Living with my sister is my family cat i grew up with named Maisey (she is a snobby fat cat with a beautiful coat and i love her although i don’t think she loves me/or anyone.) And then at my mums is her puppy Newfoundland Bentley (basically god combined a dumbass and a dog and made him) as well as my brothers turtle Pedro and my axolotl Voldemort (can’t fit his huge tank in my apartment so he stays with mum.)

I’m tagging: @bilvy @revradio @cxmeterydrxve @angryqueercrypted @prettyyy-boyyy @disenchanted-mona-lisa @burymeinpink @thotfrnk @r1ghtbackatitaga1n @solelll @gothbtchz @highhighhopless @re-imagine @x-give-em-hell-kid-x @greendayer @dramaticallydepressed @lyricsinmyblood-bloodinmylyrics & @imsopunkrxck obviously this isn’t a obligation, do this tag game only if you want. And if you weren’t tagged but wanna take part then do tag me in your own and i will read and like it as i love learning about my followers passions and interests!

#also this is the first time i have talked online about my alternate universe story and original characters #if you like what you hear and wanna know more as what i wrote was only the tip of the iceberg in regards to what there is to know about them #then hmu and ask any questions you have because i'd love to talk more about them because obviously they are both old as fuck #and therefor have a lot of back story and theres so many different aliments to the plot with a whole lot of side/sub plots #and other characters and i have done a load of research so as to have all of the stuff that i wrote based in the past to be historically #accurate and just yeah i know no one cares but if you do then please ask me about it because i have so much more to say!#also don't judge me even though i deserve it lol

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vanchlo · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet & Sour / Part 1

**There is now a Part 2, check it out here!

Blurb Synopsis: You're not sure why you walk into the same bar after the concert, just like you had last year. But when Harry walks in through that door again, and your eyes meet, you find your reason for doing this all over again.

Genre: 2015 Harry, fluff, romance, angst, and mentions of smut.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drinking as well as one night stands, and references to smut.

Word Count: 5.7k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Affair Across a Crowded Room by Murray Head (click to listen bc this so feels like a song Harry would love)

Your senses were bombarded with the sounds of cars honking, street lights flashing, and the ringing of your ears. When your hand meets the grimy wood of the door, you push it open to be met with the smells and sounds of a bar. With the beads of sweat dripping down your skin, the air-conditioned room greets it with a smile. Familiar faces meet your eyes and nods pass between the two of you. The cool metal of the bar stool surprises your bottom clad in jean shorts, even after the countless number of nights you’ve spent in these four walls.

“Just a Malibu Coke,” you murmur to Sandy, the bartender, when she comes to take your order.

A group of older men clad in professional suits sit in a corner, their laughter gracing your ears. Blink 182 trickles from the speakers hidden around the room, although you can’t place the song for the life of you. It bothers you and insults the label of ‘music nerd’ you have invisibly tattooed on your forehead. The buzzing between the confines of your skull and the glass she sets in front of you causes you to forget about the song. When your eyes catch the tall figure walk in through the door, the untraceable lyrics of the song are the last thing on your mind.

The past shoulder-length curls framing his face make you second guess yourself for a few seconds. When he walks by an ancient neon Coors Light bar sign on the wall, it lights his features and clicks with that of the face that’s never left your mind. Not to mention, your dreams. Well, neither that of your eyes either about forty minutes ago, albeit hundreds of feet away. Doubt and insecurity coat your thoughts within moments, and your attention falls back to your drink. The icy glass is slippery between your fingers, but you blame that on the person who just walked back into your deep thoughts, and the few Budweisers you consumed earlier. He steals your thoughts away from you when his footsteps trail to another part of the room, bringing your eyes back to the screen of your phone.

Texts crowd your screen, and as you draw shapes in your glass with your straw, you avoid them by looking through friends’ snapchats. Scenes from the night you spent together appear in front of your eyes before you close out of them when you get a new text. The question filling your mind is whisked away by the very one that fills your ears to the left of you. Trying to ignore it, you flip your cascading hair over your shoulder. Nights like tonight make you itch to cut it to your shoulders, and never have to worry again about the summer nights making it damp with sweat.

“Well, aren’t you predictable?” somebody hums with a lilt to their voice. It takes you a tick to locate the voice inside of your mind, bringing your head up and over to them.

“I live here, so I get to be,” you retaliate, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

The tanned color of his cheeks creases with a smile he tries to hold back. Soon, it covers his face as the hint of a laugh accompanies it. Lost moments pass between the two of you, and you find yourself admiring his curling locks that cover the collar of his button up. The very ones that around this time last year your fingers could run through comfortably. Unsolicited, a thought appears in your head wondering how different it would feel to run your hands through them now, although you hardly remember the sensation.

“Did ya go t’ tha concert tonight?” he wonders aloud, cocking his head past the door and towards the stadium a couple blocks away. His olive-colored eyes break from yours for a moment to thank Sandy when she sets a whiskey sour in front of him.

You let your glance fall to your drink in front of you, notes of the coconut from the rum meeting your nose. Bringing the black straw to your lips, you take a long drag, making him wait. You wish you could make him wait longer than you can manage, but the bubbly excitement growing in your gut takes hold of your actions. Compromising, you only nod your head with a mumble passing your lips. Crossing your long sun-kissed legs, your red Chuck Taylors nose at the edge of the wooden bar.

“Again, predictable,” he titters softly, raking his fingers through his hair from the corner of your eye. “What’d ya think then?” he queries, the clanking of the ice against his glass following his accented voice. One you sometimes can’t believe the words you had heard whispered into your ear by it.

Harry.

Your Harry.

“I think last year’s was better, I’m mad you didn’t sing my favorite this year,” you quip, shrugging your shoulders. Returning the straw to your lips, you quiet your lips with another drink. The molasses taste of the carbonated soda is lined with the tropical yet steely taste of the alcohol.

You hear him tsking his tongue at you first before an audible exhales leaves him. “Yer gonna get it fer that,” he retorts, a hint of banter heard in his voice. Your mind continues working in overdrive, suddenly wondering if anybody else could detect that. Or is it just because of the night you spent with him in between your sheets much after a scene like this? “Here, take one. And I won’t take no fer an answer, cos ‘s notta choice.”

Finally, you let yourself look over at him, again. A twinkle sits in his eye when he holds out a shot of pink liquor to you, raspberries wafting from the glass. Taking it from him, your fingers brush against each others, causing you to wonder if you imagined it was for a few seconds too long.

“Cheers,” he smirks, clinking his glass with yours before throwing back the identical contents of that which sit in yours. Your eyes stay locked when the frosty liquid passes your lips, the delightful taste only fleeting until the harsh burn coats your throat.

“I see you haven’t changed a bit,” you comment with a croaky voice, coughing. You wash it down the burn with another, less sharp, burn.

“Neither have you, love.”

The voices of Weezer sit in the space between you now, but as you marinate with thoughts buzzing around in your head, the sharp yet sweet smell of his cologne tickles at your nose. The very same smell that lulled you asleep with him beside you, and the very one that ghosted your sheets the subsequent morning you woke alone.

“I think Fool’s Gold is my new favorite,” you comment shyly, watching how the dark Coke swirls around in the glass, the ice chips almost shining under the light. Your bottom lip comes between your teeth, biting back the truth you want to speak. The thoughts that have consumed you at times return, wondering how certain titles like Change Your Ticket or Night Changes fit your feelings so exactly. Perhaps even his, too.

“Yeah, I like that one too. ‘s ratha beautiful,” he remarks, a squeaking signaling him taking a seat beside you. The almost undetectable brush of his leg against yours causes a breath to hitch in your throat. “What, did ya forget how t’ talk ova tha last year?” Harry wisecracks, pulling your eyes over to his.

Caught between his thumb and forefinger, he plays with his bottom lip. The light shines off of its slippery surface, leading to unwanted thoughts blooming between your ears. The trademark dimples have caved into his cheeks, and you’re reminded of how adorable his slightly crooked bottom teeth are as he smiles at you.

“No, I’ll remember once I have a few drinks in me.”

“Then lemme help,” he replies, calling over the bartender to order a couple more shots.

Your lips curl with a conflicted smile, but once the shots of Fireball, Tequila, and a Lemon Drop are tickling your throat, you start to let go.

“Wait, holy shit, is your hair longer than mine now?” you exclaim, words falling short with a laugh. Moving closer to him, your hand grabs a section of your hair to compare side by side to his.

His eyes fall from the foamy white topping of his golden drink. His lips part, little bubbles sticking to them, “I dunno, looks like ‘s gettin’ there. Not quite, tho’,” he answers, his eyebrows knitting together over his focused eyes.

“Oooo, I bet I could braid it,” you note excitedly after dropping your hair that somehow doesn’t feel as buttery smooth as his. Soon, your fingers are holding onto a section of his tangled curls, breaking it up into three sections.

“Hey, watch tha hair, would ya? Tha girls love me hair, can’t have anythin’ bad happenin’ t’ it now.”

“Damn, thanks for the confidence in me, Mr. Self-Absored Rockstar,” you reply curtly, banter clinging to your words. To rile him up, you drop his long brunette lock, turning back to your drink. Away from him.

“Heeeeey now, I am not and y’know it,” he pouts. From the corner of your eye, you can just make out him looking over at you - brows knitted, lips pressed together, and begging in his eyes. You don’t give in, and instead you lose yourself in the questionably empty glass in your hands.

“Sandy, can I have another?” you call out, avoiding his question and his sulking, but not when his knee bumps yours.

“‘m talkin’ t’ you, y’know. ‘m not self-absorbed,” Harry repeats before taking a pull from his drink, a rather long one. You can only wonder why.

A smile tempts at the corners of your lips, enjoying how you’re making him squirm. Because you always thought he was the king of being able to make somebody do that, not you. A memory plays before your eyes, reminding you of how much he made you squirm when you were sitting at this very bar, last year. Alcohol in both of your veins, and goosebumps covering your flesh. Especially when he pressed that first kiss to your lips.

Pushing it away, you clear your throat before thanking Sandy when she sets another drink in front of you. With your lips wrapped around the straw, they part, “Sure, keep telling yourself that, bud. You’re not gonna get me with that pout, so don’t even try it on me.”

“Hmmph, that’s not whatcha said befo’,” he whines, turning back to the drink he nurses.

Yeah, we said and did a lot of things the last time.

I really wish you hadn’t said that, or done anything in the realm of reminding me of the last time, because I don’t need you reminding me when I can’t stop remembering.

The thoughts racing through your head almost make you want to leave right then and there, but something stops you. His hand. It touches you arm and when you look over, he smiles at you goofily with white foam covering his top lip. Like a mustache, or like Santa Claus. Your lips dissolve into a laugh, and those thoughts fall to the recesses of your mind. Not gone, but still there, like they’ve been for the last year. His rose-colored lips echo your own laugh, the two sounds mixing together and creating your favorite song in the entire world. One that you thought you had forgotten the sound of.

Perhaps not after all.

You watch how his lips move effortlessly when he orders a couple of more shots for the two of you, and another whiskey sour. Your insides shrink at the sight of his lips when his tongue passes over them, and then at the way the light shines on them. You observe how they move with every word that he speaks to you, although embarrassingly because you have to ask him to repeat himself. You don’t mind, though.

“I ordered us sum more shots,” he tells you with a little nod, carding a hand through his hair to restyle it. Your fingers ball into a fist in your lap, wanting nothing more than to be touching those curls again. The very ones that fell over your face so intimately and tickled the insides of your thighs once long ago. Glancing away from him, that night seems like it was a lifetime ago. With him sitting next to you, so close that you could touch him, you think perhaps now it doesn’t feel so long ago. Then again, the few inches of distance between you detest that, feeling instead like miles.

“Thanks,” you mutter, picking at your chipped red nail polish.

“I like it, it suits you.”

Lifting your head, you find one corner of his mouth quirked into a partial smile. He does that thing again where he nods to what he’s talking about. This time it’s your lap, and more specifically, your anxious hands accented with the nail polish. Another ‘thank you’ exits from your lips before you busy them with your painfully cold drink. The second you set it down on the red and white patterned coaster, he places a red and blue layered shot beside it. The alcohol in it seems to defy the laws of gravity with the blue layer sitting atop the red layer undisturbed.

“Cheers t’ reunions,” Harry mumbles, a hint of lemon flowing from his words to meet your cheek.

“Cheers,” you agree, picking up the shot.

Turning to your left, you find him there waiting with a smile. It gleams in his eyes that are beginning to change from the liquor. You notice this when your glasses meet with a ding! Throwing back the shot you remember is called a Pornstar, you hope the alcohol laced with notes of oranges and berries will make you forget. But they don’t make you forget the smile that claimed his face that night as he made love to you. Or the same one that you saw on his lips when he spoke his first words to you tonight.

“Ya still at tha U ova there?” he questions, bringing a giggle from your lips when he tries to nod to where the college would be. It’s obvious he doesn’t know what direction it’s in, even if the stadium you saw him perform in tonight was on the campus, unbeknownst to him.

“No, I didn’t go back this fall.”

“Hmm, how come? I thought ya were likin’ tha nursin’ program ya were in,” he inquires, causing feelings to bloom inside of you. Ones you’d rather not feel because of the fact that he remembered. Amidst all of the alcohol from that night, as well as tonight’s.

“I found out I didn’t like it, and I couldn’t see myself spending my life doing it, either,” you explain, trying to douse your thoughts in more rum from your mixed drink, but you’re still only at a buzz. There’s a long way to go until you’re drunk, and you’re uncertain if you want to go that far.

“Mmmm, ya couldn’t see yerself wipin’ old people’s asses, could ya?” he quips, glancing over at you. A smirk plays on his lips in the background, his lips hidden behind his full coupe glass.

“No, I tried when I worked at the nursing home, and I found out quickly it wasn’t for me.”

His laugh tickles at your ears, reminding you quickly of all of the times you missed it, as well as how good it was to hear it earlier tonight. It’s only made better when your eyes flit to him, and you find him biting the flesh of a cherry from its stem. You’re itching to continue sharing, but there’s not enough alcohol in your system to do that, quite yet.

“I bet ya I can tie it into a knot again,” Harry murmurs, words masked by the maraschino cherry between his lips.

You remain silent, and the only acknowledgement he receives is the moving of your head. The words are slowly getting to you, sneaking in past the defense of alcohol you try to build to ward them off.

Before.

Again.

Last time.

“I bet you can’t,” you finally argue, resolve in your voice.

“Do ya now? Whatcha gonna bet then, love?”

“Hmmm, I bet you twenty bucks you can’t after all of the drinks you’ve had,” you counter, your chin finding your palm to rest in, your eyes locked on his.

“Oh ye o’ li’l faith,” Harry scoffs, brows pointed down into a V, his curls tickling his chest. Playing with his bottom lip, he squints an accusatory eye at you, adjusting the striped white and black button down revealing his sun kissed chest.

The heaviness in his voice finds your Achilles heel, stirring feelings in your gut that you’d wish would remain silent.

“I bet I can, I even betta kiss from you,” he giggles, pink appearing on his cheeks as he chews on the tip of the red stem.

Your breath hitches in your throat when his proposition hits the air. It’s nearly impossible to hide away the happiness budging at your lips, especially as you watch it unfold on his face. That face with the devilish grin and shining eyes. Drowsiness tugs at the corner of them, and you wonder if only you can see it there.

“Deal’s a deal,” you announce, removing your hand from your lap to hold out to him. His large hand adorned with rings and black ink wraps around yours. You could melt right there and plant your lips on his that very second, you’re sure of it. Somehow, his firm yet sweet handshake wants to make you believe he’d like that, especially when he doesn’t let go.

Slipping the stem between his excited lips, new goosebumps prickle on the back of your neck. You just hope that he doesn’t notice them growing on your arms, and that they aren’t covering your hand that’s enveloped in his. That he doesn’t feel them under the pad of his thumb that he brushes along the back of your hand. Few thoughts live in your mind at the moment, his eyes staring into yours as your joined hands sit on his thigh clad in holey black jeans. A few titters escape his concentrated lips and his eyes jump to the ceiling, meanwhile his lips move as he tries to tie it in a knot. All while your insides mimic the same shape as you’re reminded of the saying about people who can tie a cherry stem into a knot with their tongue.

“Come on, Styles,” you mumble, raising your eyebrows at him. He rewards you with a laugh, and his thumb stills against your hand, his face screwing up in concentration.

A few seconds later, he squeezes your hand and a smile covers his face. Wiggling his eyebrows now, one corner of his mouth reaches his ear. His lips part, and he sticks out the stem, adorned with a knot in the middle.

“Can’t believe ya didn’t believe in me, love. ‘m hurt,” he pouts, a fake cry sounding from his frowning lips. Kicking your foot against his under the table, he chuckles as he sets it down next to his drink. “Alright, betta pucker up, angel.”

Biting your lip, you watch his adam’s apple bob when his drink meets his lips. Setting it down, he rubs his hand across yours, the same shade of red donning his cheeks as yours.

“Fine, let’s get it over with,” you groan, trying to remember the last time you put chapstick on. You just hope your lips don’t taste like beer by now.

He winks at you before leaning in and catching your chin between his two fingers. Pulling you forward, you let your eyes fall shut, and soon you feel his breath on your face. The brash smell of alcohol sweetened with lemon, and a hint of cherries. You taste the sweet, and then the sour when his lips touch yours. His top lip is soft between yours, and prickly from the stubble smattered across his skin. He smiles into the kiss, moving his lips with yours as he laces his fingers with your own, his rings cold against your skin. Then you taste it at the back of your throat, the sweet and then the sour.

Breaking the kiss, you pull away, unsure of if you can do this again. If you can try to detach yourself from your head for another night, only to have it eat away at you for the next year- who knows how fucking long.

“Nah, come back ‘ere,” Harry whispers quickly, his fingers crawling to your cheek, and then the back of your head.

He pushes at the back of it, smashing his lips against yours once more, and you let him. Melting into a puddle in front of him, because that’s what you do best. That’s what you’ve done all these years yearning for him over his pictures and his songs. Then from the crowd at his concert last year, swearing he made contact with you once while singing your favorite, Happily. Once again, just earlier tonight when you stood in the sea of people at another concert of his, feeling yourself fall all over again, and now you know you are.

You should stop it right here and right now, but you try to ignore the convincing hurt that will follow if you just let yourself enjoy the moment. As well as the moments that follow.

His fingers find a home in your hair as you savor his lips between yours, pillowy soft and sopping with sweetness. Tasting of lost time, forgotten kisses, and the bittersweetness that you know another night with him will bring. Ignoring it, you kiss him back, your hands climbing his thigh until your thumb collides with his crotch. Giggling against his lips, you stop there, but wish you didn’t have to. A titter leaves his lips, followed by his tongue edging at your bottom lip. Somebody slurs ‘get a room’ with a laugh, and your lips soon part.

A chuckle hugs his lips now, no longer yours, much to your disappointment. You find comfort in your drink, although after a few gulps, you find yourself missing the taste of him. As well as his smell, much like vanilla and spice, quickly reminding you of the saying in Powerpuff Girls.

Recalling it, you guess at notes of warm nutmeg, tobacco, and hints of vanilla bean clinging to him. Just like the last time, but somehow it surrounds you, almost taking the breath away from you. You had tried so hard to remember just how he smelled, always wishing you knew the name of the cologne he wore. It’s too late when you realize it, but you’re smiling into your drink. You’re unsure if you ever want to stop, you ponder, suddenly remembering the tautness of his upper thigh beneath your hand.

Your hands.

“Can we getta check, please?” Harry murmurs next to you, his fingers moving between yours slowly. More goosebumps rise along your body at his words that come rushing from his mouth.

Sandy walks over to you, braid bouncing on her shoulders. She sets the check down and thanks you both for coming. Harry plucks the check from the table, before it’s even had time to lay flat on the tabletop. Grinning, he looks at it as he holds it away from you in his left hand.

“No, you don’t get to do this again!” you exclaim, lips melting into bubbly laughter.

“Do what, love?” he questions dumbfoundedly, giving you a funny look that only makes you laugh harder.

“Pay the bill! Let me do it this time,” you argue, trying to reach past him, but he uses his long arm to his advantage. “Ugh, why do you do this?”

“I haven’t done anythin’,” he disagrees, placing the receipt between his fingers as he reaches behind him, still facing you. Watching, he grabs his leather wallet from his back pocket, all while holding the receipt and not letting go of your hand. His name drops from your mouth, and he acts as if he didn’t hear it, but his lips tell you otherwise.

“Shhh,” he tells you, in the middle of a giggle. “I pay, that’s jus’ how it goes, so stop arguin’, cuz ‘s not gonna change me mind.”

Glancing over to you, he meets your searching eyes and cocks one eyebrow. His glistening lips do something to you, and you think he knows it, because he drags your joined hands to the hardness between his legs. Winking, he softly tosses his credit card and the receipt to the table. Picking up his drink, your eyes follow his tongue as he scoops up the ivory bubbles at the top, all while looking at you. Certain you’re blushing, you turn away and pick up your drink, quickly downing the rest as he gulps loudly beside you.

The lukewarm summer air welcomes your skin when you step out onto the sidewalk. Busying your hands with the cloth strap of your purse, you walk beside Harry who taps away on his phone. Soon, you reach a stoplight and unsure of where you’re going, or more like where each of you are going, you come to a stop. Lips poised and ready with a question, you’re about to ask him what the plan is. He beats you to it and presses the button to wake the crosswalk, sliding his phone into his tight jeans.

“Ya still make those ‘outta this world’ cinnamon rolls?” Harry wonders aloud as you stare ahead. The lights of the metro flash in front of your eyes, and the sounds of cars and people trickle past you.

“Yeah. You’re lucky, I made a batch this morning and I have a few left over.”

“Great. Ya think I could stop by t’ have one?” Harry requests. Words pause between your lips, and he steals them away from you when he intertwines his hand with yours. “Let’s hurry befo’ it stops,” he blurts out, walking forward and pulling on your hand to follow him across the blinking crosswalk, just as you hum an ‘mmmhmm’.

You can’t remember what you talked about on the way to your apartment, because all you could focus on was his hand in yours. Something he didn’t even do the last time, and you start to wonder why, before you stop yourself. Words pass between the two of you during the short walk, but the songs of the city do most of the talking.

Soon, you’re turning on the lights in your apartment, calling out for your roommate. It takes you a minute to remember past your alcohol buzz that at the concert she said she was staying somewhere else tonight. Toeing off your shoes, you watch Harry discard his to the mat by the door.

“Aha, there they are!” Harry cheers, padding over to the kitchen. He finds the round baking dish full of them, peeling back the wrapping to pluck one from the dish. “I swear ya make tha best cinnamon rolls ‘ve eva had, angel,” he murmurs, locking eyes with you as he takes a bite. Closing his eyes with a smile adorning his lips, he moans from the taste.

Giggling, you take off your purse and hang it on a chair sat at the other side of the counter where you often eat your meals. Seeing as it’s a tiny apartment and just the two of you, you and your roommate opted out of buying a table to eat at. The old pet name bounces around inside of your head, and drags your eyes over to Harry. Lifting his own from the large cinnamon roll, it astonishes you how it shrinks in comparison to his massive hand. He looks back at you while licking the sugary frosting from his lips, a smile tugging at them. A knowing smile.

“Wann’a bite?” he volunteers, holding it out to you where you stand across the counter from him. He tempts you alright, but the only thing you want to taste on your lips is his coated in frosting.

“Sure.”

Padding over to him, his thumb ventures between his lips, licking the frosting from them. He really knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he? you groan inwardly, wishing you could spew the words out loud. You know they’d jumpstart something, and you don’t think you can wait for it any longer. Your footsteps stop in front of him, and he holds out the half eaten pastry to you. Although from this morning, the silky bread still melts on your tongue, decorated with the flavors of cinnamon and sugar.

“Wait, ya got some frosting on yer nose,” Harry smiles. Soon, his thumb brushes against your nose, wiping it away. You don’t let him stop there, grabbing his wrist and bringing his digit between your lips.

Observing the changing expression on his face, you suck the frosting from his thumb. Letting go of his thumb slowly, he looks like he’s slowly losing his mind in front of you. Join the club, bud.

“Yer givin’ me a run fo’ me money tonight, aren’t ya, angel?” he rasps, bopping your nose with his finger before he takes another bite. You nod unabashedly, licking your lips before you turn to walk away. His sigh is just a whisper, but your ears pick it up as you make your way to the bathroom, leaving him to squirm once again.

After splashing cold water on your face and freshening up, you find him at home on your tan sectional. Looking at something on his phone, he hears your return and soon his sparkling eyes find yours.

“You look tired,” you smile, breaking eye contact to check your watch. “It’s almost one, Harry. You must be tired after tonight.”

“Not really, I think ‘s tha jetlag,” he lies, leaning back into the plush cushions of the couch, letting his eyes fall closed after all. Settling down beside him, you stretch out, looking around the room hurriedly to check for any messes. Luckily, you and your roommate had left your apartment rather neat this afternoon before leaving for the concert. Just a few discarded clothes on the floor and hanging off of chairs.

“You’re such a liar. Do you wanna call an Uber or somebody to bring you to your hotel? I’d drive you, but I probably shouldn’t after those drinks,” you comment, your eyes falling over him. The light catches the silver cross necklace hanging around his neck, and how it moves with his chest that lifts slowly with his every breath.

“‘m not tired, jus’ thinkin’,” he insists, opening his eyes and turning his head towards you. You can’t help it, your fingers dive into his hair, pushing it back. He smiles dopily up at you, a faint mewling dropping from his lips at the sensation.

“I don’t believe you. Do you want to go to sleep? You can have my bed,” you offer, your fingernails lightly scratching against his scalp. With your eyes on each other, you know that you have him in the palm of your hand now, and you don’t want him to go anywhere.

He remains silent, his eyes closing again as you play with his hair, unaware this was something he enjoys. You didn’t really have the chance to explore this as much last time, although you were dying to. His name leaves your lips in a question, wondering aloud if he’s fallen asleep. His head goes from side to side and he opens his eyes, blinking hard at you.

“No, don’t wanna go t’ sleep. There’s sumthin’ else I wanna do instead.”

“What’s that?” you ask, his lemony breath ghosting over your face. His lips curl up towards his eyes, dimples collapsing into his cheeks.

“You,” he smirks, sitting up. Your eyes roll so hard into the back of your head at his dad joke that you don’t see him slip his arms under your thighs, hoisting you over his shoulder in one swift move.

“Harry!” you almost scream, losing your breath when your chest meets his back in a surprising turn of events. “What are you doing?” you groan, your face coming to meet his ass almost, not that you’re complaining.

“You’ll see soon enough, angel,” he murmurs in response, and he begins to walk.

You can’t play the annoyed card anymore, because excitement shivers through your body quickly. Inside your chest, underneath your One Direction shirt and the layers of your body, your heart goes wild. It hasn’t been able to stop ever since his fingers touched yours earlier tonight. It only dances harder inside of you as his footsteps near your bedroom, one he seemingly remembers the route to well. Feeling spunky and sick of it teasing you, being right there and all, your hand hits his ass with a satisfying clap.

“Heeeey!” Harry titters as you squeeze his soft bum, seconds before he throws you forward. Leaving his arms, your back soon hits the springy surface of your bed. “I guess ya can do what ya want with me tonight, cuz ‘m all yers, baby. Again,” Harry coos from above you, crawling onto the bed to kneel over you with his hands planted on either side of your head.

At a loss for words, you just stare up at him, your mouth permanently curving upwards. Moonlight pours in from the window, his skin glowing underneath it.

“I thought ya rememba’d how t’ talk afta we had those shots,” he winks, his eyes dancing along your face as his hand comes to cup your cheek. Your own are tempted to roam his body, and the very interesting area between his legs. You just shrug your shoulders at him, and his grin widens. “Maybe ‘ll hafta remind those lips how t’ work then.”

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