#still using it!!) and read books and sort out my spotify and write and finish watching taskmaster……..

[steelycunt]

bought a little strawberry plant..also finished unpacking + sorted out some clothes and books i want to donate…now 2 submit my first essay + catch up on my lecture + watch succession but most importantly. bought a little strawberry plant..

[avida-heidia-5]

I was tagged by @twinkodium. This was a lot of fun! Thanks for the tag! 😊

Star Sign:

Aries. 🐏 (I don’t believe in zodiac signs and their supposed meanings. I just know I’m an Aries as I was born on 22nd March. 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Favourite Holiday:

Easter! 🐰🥚🌸 Because chocolate. I’m ADDICTED to the stuff! 🍫 Also, Spring is one of my favourite seasons. I just love seeing nature come back to life and seeing more wildlife more often after a long winter period. It brings me so much joy every single time. 😌

Last Meal:

I’ve just eaten homemade toad-in-the-hole for linner (dinner at lunchtime). It was deeeeelicious! 🤤😋

Current Favourite Musician:

Depeche Mode. I fell in love with them ever since they released their latest album Memento Mori (2023). I pretty much binged the whole of their discography on Spotify last year out of sheer curiosity and I’ve now become strangely obsessed with them as a result. I’ve recently learned that fans of DM are called “Devotees”, soooo yeah. I’m a Devotee now! Whoopsie! 🌹🎹

Last Music Listened To:

Meet Me In The Woods by Lord Huron. I like me a good folk rock song to keep me going. This song was just so pleasant to listen to. Plus, it’s very catchy. I couldn’t get it out of my head after listening to it.

Last Movie Watched:

I watched The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018) with my parents on Netflix a couple of weeks ago. For those who don’t know, it’s an anthology film of sorts containing many different stories centred around the Wild West. My dad recommended it to me as he likes watching films made by the Coen Brothers. I don’t have a lot to say about it other than I really enjoyed it. I’m a film buff and I usually have a lot to say about the films I’ve just seen, so having that happen to me was really odd. 🤔

Last TV Show Watched:

I don’t watch a lot of TV and I don’t keep up to date with any shows, so I don’t know if what I’ve put down counts.

I recently finished watching the Fernando (2020–) docuseries on Amazon Prime and I loved it. 🤩 It’s mainly about Fernando Alonso and the many adventures he got up to during his 2-year retirement from F1. It’s really interesting!

Last Book/Fic Finished:

The last book I read was The Bourne Identity by Robert Ludlum and the last fic I read was a Chalex fic called I Can Feel The Sun On You by mintchocolatechip97.

Last Book/Fic Abandoned:

The book I abandoned quite swiftly was a Dave Grohl autobiography my uncle and auntie got me for Christmas. I was never a Foo Fighters listener and I’m not a Foo Fighters fan. I still have no idea why they thought I’d like it. Sorry to the people who like them, they’re just not for me. 🙁

Currently Reading:

A Pocketful Of Happiness by Richard E. Grant. It’s such a sweet, tender, and heartbreaking autobiography that highlights how he got into acting and how he met and fell in love with his acting coach Joan Washington. ❤️

Last Thing Researched for Writing/Art/Hyperfixation:

“sebastian vettel mark webber 2010 monaco”. Just seeing pictures of these two smiling and hugging each other makes me smile. 🥰 I was also psyching myself up for this week’s F1 Watch Party on Discord, which, funnily enough, will be streaming the 2010 Monaco Grand Prix this Sunday. I can’t wait!!!! 🏎️💨🏁

Favourite Fandom Online Memory:

I love making friends through their interests in the fandom. The F1 community is massive, so it was easy for me to make friends online and in person as a result. I can feel comfortable being weird around them and in turn they can feel comfortable being weird around me. 🥰🥰🥰

Favourite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence:

I used to love the Merlin fandom when it was popular. I still do, but not as strongly as I used to.

Favourite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big “Fandom” But You Wish It Did:

Hmmm, this is a tough question. I’m not fussed with how popular my fandom choices are. If I had to choose one though, I’d say The Beatles. I think a lot of RPFs about certain bands and singers don’t get as much attention as, say, Formula 1 or Super Mario or Supernatural do.

Tempting Project You’re Trying To Rein In/Don’t Have Time For:

I really want to post some more fanfics on AO3, make some more banners on InShot, and do some video editing and gif making on CapCut, but I’m incredibly slow at doing all of them because college work keeps getting in the way of my plans. 😵‍💫 I hardly have enough free time to do any of them. Don’t worry though, I haven’t abandoned them altogether. I will get them done eventually! 🤞🏻

I tag the following peeps: @kaossbells, @hurricane-heatt, @racingliners, @formulaes5, and @wanderingblindly. Feel free to participate if you’d like to. No pressure obviously. 😊

[iantimony]

midday tuesday

sort of getting a handle on the volume of work i have to do. ough. writing this tuesdaypost while i wait for the initial step of a simulation to finish running so i can see if what i'm doing is correct.

listening: listening to haken's fauna album again because i'm seeing them live soon (!!)

next listening (against my better judgement because you can probably figure out where i live based on it): local bar had some bands this past weekend, i missed the first group (dopplepopolis) unfortunately because i am chronically late to things that don't have consequences but allegedly they did a holst mars cover ?? which sounds fascinating and i'm so mad i missed it. the second group was alright (the lunar diamonds), pretty good stage presence and they clearly had a lot of fun but their original songs were a little forgettable to me, their cover of psycho killer WAS a banger. i'm very sad they don't have that put up on spotify. but the third group (please her). oohhhh baby. i fell a little bit in love with the lead singer, not gonna lie! i went and listened to their spotify and while some of it really doesn't hit the same as the live performance it's still very fun. she had a spray bottle full of water and was periodically spritzing the audience. at the very end she was like "welcome to church, you may be seated" and had us all sit/crouch on the floor to listen to her announcements about the band over a groovy backing track. their bassist is INSANELY good too. mans be slappin that thang. they listed their genre as "scorpion core" which i still do not understand but god bless 'em.

anyways. they have one album out right now (bandcamp / spotify) and it's worth giving a listen. favorite track: 12 @ the Party, followed closely by Fellas!. i will probably buy it next bandcamp friday.

the lunar diamonds only have one track up on spotify but it is one of their originals that i found toe-tappy: Treads

i'll have to give the band i missed a chance but it will likely not hit the same as if it were live. c'est la vie

finally, haven't finished the release radar for this week yet, but i do really love ethan bortnick. the way he meshes classical-inspired piano with the alt beats is just so fun. hide n seek

reading: next mdzs book came in from the library! truly nothing like the rush of getting the notification "your book is ready to take out" before the estimated date :3 so i'm a little ways into volume 2 now, we're in yi city, xue yang is soooo much more obviously desperate to get xiao xingchen fixed in the book than in the show. loser (affectionate)

watching: next verse same as the first. dungeonmeshi and kill la kill with boyf. the kelpie animations were really fun and also the kraken !! good shit. there are other posts that have explained this better but i love the way trigger is animating the backgrounds. as for klk, we're on ep15 now! i have forgotten sooo much of this show, nui harime showed up and i was like oh SHIT i forgot about her !! entirely!!! so it's been a really fun rewatch.

playing: ran dnd saturday and played dnd on monday! saturday dnd defeated the mdzs dancing fairy :b at some point i will probably design something that involves finding a haunted arm pointing in a direction to reuinite its body a la nie mingjue but we've got some very strong anti-undead characters in this party so that may not go over very well. monday dnd involved getting hunted by a spooky fey hyena and getting robbed by a goblin group. something something goblin microaggressions. still fun even though i was VERY sleepy by the end of it.

making: pottery that i FORGOT TO PHOTOGRAPH ... i was like "i'll take pics at open studio saturday" and then the kiln was running so, on one hand, yayyyy kiln! on the other, no pics for this tuesdaypost. so. more pics next week. i did make some hopefully-teacups for my bf, depending on how severe the shrinkage is, but these are the smallest items i've been able to make (0.5lb clay) and it's sooo much harder than i thought it would be. pics with ruler for shrinkage measuring purposes

you might catch in the first photo that the top cup has noticeably thicker walls than the others ... don't worry about it ......

eating: coconut fish and tomato bake thing that i added too much lime to by accident but still tasty... sheet pan tofu and brussel sprouts!!!! so this is an elite one, adding to the arsenal. literally just halve the sprouts and cube the tofu, drizzle w olive oil and salt and peppy, roast at 450 til its. done. whenever. while that's roasting make rice. the sauce is 1:1 ratio of tahini to hoisin sauce with minced garlic to taste. it is To Die For and SO easy. last night roommate made turkey meatballs with couscous and even though the couscous burned just a little bit it was still yummy!

misc: turns out ... if your body wants ~9 hours of sleep a night but you make it live off of 7 for weeks on end ....... eventually you will get sick LOL. probably partly alcohol ibs stuff but still. sunday was a total wash for me and i went to bed at 10pm and felt normal monday morning. so. i need to just be going to bed earlier (pain). work this week not as terrible at least. i am doing my shit that i need to be doing and it's going okay! which is good because i'm calling it an early week kinda for that concert hehe. oh valentines day! boyf got me a little leatherman multitool keychain and it's so cute and i love it, and i got him a bird scope phone holder so he can take bird photos easier!!!

[krisyyydvd]

Isn’t fun, 2022?

This is my yearly summarization of how my entire year went and felt like. I am writing this right now in a Foodcourt, saving my hotspot to finish my shift, a day after our Year end party. I still feel on cloud 9, realizing how lucky- blessed I am. A friend asked, how will I remember what happened from all previous months and give you a summary? Well, let’s say thank you to IG Archives and phone gallery. So, let’s start! I think this is gonna be long… My 2022 started with fireworks and Family reunions. My relationship got tested, we fought quite a lot this year but thankfully, with the help of proper communication, effort and the same feeling of choosing each other, we survived. As a song said “It’s not always rainbows and butterflies, It’s compromise that moves us along”. This year, I have realized that making major scary decisions can lead you to good plot twist and happy memory along the way. I got an iPhone, which I never imagined myself getting previously. I said it was unreasonably expensive, but it turned out as one of my good decisions. I had a lot of amazing photos and videos, it’s pink (main reason why I took it) and I now don’t rely on ShareIt cause I have “Airdrop”. 

I have been to a lot of places as well, I got to experience a motor ride with my bb to Pangasinan with my sister and her husband. I was so excited because I always felt sad when I wasn’t allowed to come with my bb when they go out on rides and even feel jealous if someone is riding with him, even though I know they are just maximizing resources. This was a day tour trip, we had barely sleep and I almost felt like slipping away from the back of the motor because I was hallucinating because I am sleepless and tired. We both had fun in the beach, its open to everyone and we just stayed in a hut. We took videos and photos in the middle of sunny afternoon but who cares. I hope it won’t be a day tour next time because it was very fun! Then we decided to venture into business! My bb and I opened LOWKEE where we sold preloved Jackets. It was very tiring at first, sorting the clothes, laundry and posting. It made me realize the hard-work of online sellers and how every order you have with them no matter how small are greatly appreciated. We are very much happy that we are supported by Family, Friends and even strangers! It was definitely worth a try and very worthwhile experience. I was very enthusiastic to have do LOWKEE things, because I was inspired by a motto I read “work on weekdays and work on the life you want on weekends”. It is something I will have on my heart forever. 

On April, because it’s my sister’s birth month, we went to Baguio again. This time, we took our time slowly and enjoyed the summer capital. We also went to Atok, Benguet which is a first time. The road on the way to the top is crazy. On the other side of the van it was mountain and the other side is thousand feet deep cliff. We saw the colorful flowers of Atok, houses, and the how easy for it to rain because of the thick mist is definitely amazing. I would love to go back but my Family don’t want to anymore because of the road. But someday I will be back on that road again but to Mt. Pulag. To maximize my summer, my workmates and I went to Zambales, a part of Zambales I knew existed because it’s like a secluded Island. It’s very quiet, the water is very blue and I’m with the best people, it was perfect. I still remember lying on that beach side, it was lowtide and the night was full of stars that they won’t fit in my sight. I was with my Swiftie friends, we talked for hours about her and our life. It’s like you are on open book but it’s fine that you are read because you were understood. From that point, there is no going back. I devoted my 2 hrs every morning to “This is Taylor Swift” on Spotify. Back in 2019, when I was sitting on the fine sands of Boracay, I told myself that I want to bring my Family there. And 3 years later, my Family and I rode a plane and went to Boracay to celebrate mine and my sister’s birth month. This trip was made special because my bb is with us. I was so happy to see my parents happy.  I think one of my goals have been checked from my bucket-list and I would love to come back with them again. When we went home, I celebrated my exact birthday at home very intimately. Despite my bb’s schedule, he still managed to make time to decorate my party. That’s why when his birthday came, I went all out and decided to surprise him using Harry! I think this is the only successful surprise I pulled off because I did everything by my own. BER months came like a flash. As usual, as early as September, our house is already fully decorated with Christmas things and a moving toy train. I colored my hair again and it accidentally turned out awesome like a rose gold pinki-sh, sadly, after one swim at the A house Tarlac, it went to dry gold again. I also vividly remember how I conquered my fears in Aquaplanet together with the best workmates and clients. When I climb the stairs towards the top of the slide, I can feel my knees weakening and I can see my life flash infront of me, but when it’s my turn, I just shouted my fear and had the best time! One of the highlight of this year also Is when my college girlfriends and I finally went to the beach! I thought this will never come true, but with persistence nothing indeed is impossible. My December is full of schedule, I became a bridesmaid, sold perfumes, had a memorable year end party and had a wonderful 2nd Anniversary with my love. This year is not all fun, I realized a lot of things. I felt stuck, insecure and broke. I got my my heart broken in Presidential elections and I’m living the consequence of those 31M unknown people’s decision. I discovered I have PCOS and I am now under medication. I had a huge debt and all those early months, I kept thinking of getting a loan just to pay. But my friends kept on saying that “it will all work out”. God gave me a part time job and I did so many things to earn money and finally paid off my debt. Thinking back, I have nothing but appreciation and gratitude this year, I won a raffle in cash and I will close this year where I have financial freedom, which is something I always prayed for. My Family is complete, I have lovely boyfriend, I have my friends and I have cool workmates! I think there is a reason behind all my answered prayers , and that is to be blessing to others. I would like to thank everyone who has been with me this whole year! I met new people and still had my consistent friends. It is definitely a year to remember. I will be closing this year with a happy and fulfilled me. Tho, I forgot the diet part along the way. Better luck next year! Somehow I think 2023 is going to my year because I am Year of the Rabbit. I think I will be successful in everything I do. So I would like to welcome next year with positivity, plans and dreams. I am excited to get to know the next year version of me. I AM EXCITED FOR YOU 2023! 

My only advise for myself next year is “Keep your faith strong, be consistent in praying and never doubt.” 🙏

[helliontherapscallion]

Warmth (Adrenaline Junkie Part 6)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: Self harm scars, mentions of panic attacks and hallucinations

Word count: 2,842

(A/N): This takes place about 6 months after the last chapter. Also, I was heavily inspired by Toothless’ prosthetic, I’m really excited to write more about it : )

You hummed to yourself as you walked down the cobblestone street of the village. The village was probably one of your favorite places to visit; it had quaint little shops and stalls decorating the main plaza that you adored, it was always interesting to see what’s being sold today. Though you always wore your cloak to cover your wings (well, wing and a now-feathered nub) whenever you visited to avoid the stares, you still regularly visited the main plaza for the shops. 

The first time you visited after the incident was about a month ago with Wilbur, you two were looking for something to cook for dinner. You were trying to get used to having your wings out again, so you were wearing the jacket with the slits in the back that you always used to wear. 

The feeling of people staring holes into you was a feeling you forgot about. You always got stares whenever you went into the village because of your wings, but now it felt like more and more people were staring at you as you passed them, probably because of your nub. Though some looked at you in pity, most looked at you with disgust.

You could hear children asking their mothers what happened to you. Their mothers would take one look at you and shield their children away from you staring at you with disgust. You even made one kid cry when he saw your wing; you didn’t blame him, you still couldn’t look at your nub without tearing up. An hour hasn’t even passed before you were asked by a police officer to leave because you were causing a disruption and being indecent in public.

Wilbur was pissed. “They’re fully clothed and they didn’t even talk to anybody, so how exactly were they being disruptive or indecent?”

The officer firmly held her ground, looking up to Wilbur’s tall form. “Sir, the people are complaining and it’s my job to make the public feel safe and comfortable. Look,” she sighed, “I really don’t want to have to ask them to leave, they’re not doing anything to directly threaten people. However, they are causing a disturbance with their,” she wrinkled her nose, “their thing, so I’m going to have to ask them to leave.”

“You have absolutely no right to tell them to leave. They-”

“Wilbur, it’s fine. I’ll leave,” turning back to the officer, you calmly stated “I’m sorry for causing a disturbance ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

She curtly nodded and stood watching you, probably making sure that you left the main plaza. Before you could turn to leave, Wilbur stopped you.

“(Y/n)-”

“No, Wilbur. It’s alright, I can wait outside the village for you.”

He sighed, looking through his leather satchel. “No, you won’t have to wait for me. We’ve got enough food for dinner anyways,” shooting one last heated glare at the police officer, he reached down to grab your hand. “Let’s go.”

He drug you quickly through the village with you having a little trouble keeping up with his long strides. Once you were out of the village, he slowed his pace and walked with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“(Y/n), I’m sor-”

“Don’t be Wil. It isn’t your fault. I honestly was expecting to get kicked out earlier.”

“Still, it’s not fair to you. You didn’t ask for this.” 

“I know Wil, I’ll just wear my cloak next time I visit.”

He didn’t say anything to you after that. The rest of the walk home was shrouded in an awkward silence. 

Another part of the village you loved was the library. It had tall shelves filled to the brim with all sorts of books and various cushioned furniture littered randomly amongst the maze of shelves. Whoever would walk into the library would immediately be hit by the strong scent of parchment and wood as soon as they would walk through the twin doors. You would usually browse books about redstone, but you had a different agenda today.

Today, you were looking for a book about leather working. You wanted to make a leather prosthetic wing so you could at least glide through the air. You weren’t sure if it would work though. From what you’ve read, nobody’s attempted to make a prosthetic wing. It made sense, being a hybrid was rare in and of itself, let alone a winged hybrid. 

You missed flying more than anything. You would give anything to be able to be in the air again. You felt jittery and restless without flight. Sure, Philza took you on some flights with him every now and then, but it wasn’t the same. You yearned for the independence and liberation it gave you to fly alone.

After you found a book and checked it out with the librarian, you hastily set out for home. You were walking with a giddy smile on your face and a bounce in your step. Several people gave you strange looks as you passed them, but you were in too good of a mood to care. You finally figured out a way you could possibly fly again. 

When you got home, you headed straight to your workshop to get to work on your prosthetic. Several blueprints were hung up around your desk, some for your TNT launcher (which you finished a few weeks ago) and others contained ideas for an automatic farm. Your pride and joy was hung up in the center of your bulletin board. It made you extremely happy just by looking at the prosthetic sketch.

Your redstone lamp illuminated the space in front of you as you focused on cutting a large strip of leather in front of you with great concentration. You needed to get the measurements exactly right, equal sized wings are integral for stability midair. The prosthetic was going to be about the same size as your left wing with thin iron rods giving the wing structure. You planned on making it identical to a bat’s wing with a few minor changes in shape to match your other wing. Once it actually was structurally sound and working, you would add proper joints so you could wear it around and decorate it. Until then, you’re making adjustments.

When you were done, you moved on to crafting and melding together the iron rods. Putting on your goggles and thick leather gloves, you used a bit of lava your family kept stored in another room in the basement to fuse the thin iron rods together. You carefully dipped one end of two rods into the bucket before pulling it out at a certain time to hold the molten ends together until they cooled. You repeated this process until you were melding the last piece on.

“HEY BITCH, DINNER’S READY. GET IT WHILE IT’S HOT!”

Yelping, you dropped the mold onto your desk. You picked it up in a panic without paying attention to where your arms went. Unknowingly, your sleeved arm was pressing up against the scorching iron of the bucket of lava.

“FUCK YOU YA FILTHY GREMLIN, A LITTLE WARNING WOULD’VE BEEN NICE!”

He started cackling. “FUCK YOU TOO! NOW GET UP HERE BEFORE I EAT YOUR DINNER.”

“YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT. I SWEAR TO- FUCK!”

You felt the nerves on the side of your forearm screaming as you yanked it away, leaving the crisp remains of a part of your sleeve stuck to the iron bucket. Two pairs of footsteps boomed down the steps and got louder as they rapidly approached you. 

Wilbur’s deep voice worriedly called out to you. “Shit, (y/n) are you alright? Let me see.”

Before you could protest, he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled the sleeve of your jacket down. Adjoining the light burn, small horizontal scars and some fresh cuts lined your forearms. Shit, they were never supposed to find out.

Wilbur’s hand froze, gripping your wrist with an iron grip. You hissed at the feeling of some of your cuts reopening, causing him to quickly retract his hand. He now had his hands hovering over your arm unsure of what to do with them.

“(Y/n), wha-” Tommy cut himself off once he saw the panicked look on his older brother’s face. Following his gaze, his wide eyes met with your cuts.

You sighed, prying the goggles off from your face and pulling the gloves off from your hands. You put on a calm exterior, contrary to what you felt on the inside. They were never supposed to know. “Listen, you guys weren’t supposed to find out about this. None of you were. Please don’t tell Dad or Technoblade, I don’t need more people knowing.”

Tommy spoke up with an incredulous look. “(Y/n), what do you mean? We can’t just not tell them.”

“I know. Please, do it for me? Everything’s finally going back to normal and this will just make everything worse again. I promise I’ll stop, I swear.”

The two brothers looked at each other silently contemplating what they should do. On one hand, you were their sibling and you were hurting yourself. They needed to tell their dad that you were cutting. You only had two lives left and you could kill yourself doing that. Philza and Techno could help. On the other hand, they wanted you to feel normal in your own home. You were right in the fact that everything was starting to feel like it did before the incident. Plus, they would gladly help you through it.

They looked back at you with apprehensive expressions, speaking at the same time. 

“(Y/n), we’re not gonna tell Dad or Techno.”

“We’re telling them.”

Tommy whipped his head up to look at his brother angrily. “Wilbur, we need to tell them.”

“Tommy, no-”

“Are you fucking stupid? Of course we have to-”

“Tommy. We don’t because I’ll be taking every sharp object away from them tonight. We’ll watch them and check their wrists to make sure that there’s no new cuts and they stay clean. We’ll help them.”

“But- they,” Tommy gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But we at least have to tell Techno about this. He can help us.”

Wilbur glanced at you with apologetic eyes. Before he could speak up, you interrupted him. “...Alright, as long as Dad doesn’t find out. He has enough to stress out about and he doesn’t need to worry about me again. Now, can we go upstairs for dinner? We’ve been down here for long enough already and Dad’s probably wondering why. Tell him that I’m gonna go clean up.”

Without giving them any room to argue, you speeded up the stairs and into your room. Closing the door and leaning your back on it, you let your calm facade drop into a panicked one. Shit, what if Tommy tells Dad? What were you supposed to do then? He’ll take away what little freedom you had left and you’ll be sinking into the depths of your depression again. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock and Philza’s voice. You held your breath as you prepared yourself for him to tell you that he knows your secret. “Hey hun, Wilbur and Tommy told me that you burned yourself,” you let out a relieved sigh. “Do you need me to look at it?”

Panic once again flared in your bloodstream. “N-no Dad, it’s just a little burn. I’ll be down in just a second I’m changing.”

“You sure? I can get you a potion.”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“...Alright,” he sounded skeptical. “Just hurry up, dinner’s getting cold.”

The sound of his retreating footsteps sounded like music to your ears. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths before you moved to put on a long sleeved shirt. 

Dinner was uncharacteristically quiet without Tommy, you, or Wilbur talking. Philza tried to carry the conversation with you four, but only Technoblade gave full responses. You, Tommy, and Wilbur only supplied a few words to a conversation when prompted. 

Technoblade was suspicious. Sure, you and Wilbur were quiet sometimes, but Tommy? Tommy’s always loud and rambunctious. Something’s wrong, but what? What could’ve happened when Tommy and Wilbur went to go get you for dinner? They weren’t gone for long. He did hear you screaming profanities at Tommy for scaring you and overheard Tommy telling Philza about how you burned yourself, but how is that something that would shut you three up? He was going to confront his siblings after he finished tonight’s dishes. 

Meanwhile, you, Tommy, and Wilbur were in your room. You were giving them your iron dagger.

“Is this all?”

“Yeah, Tommy. That’s all, search my room if you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t mind, I don’t have anything to hide from you anymore.”

They did just that. Looking under your bed, in your drawers, in your closet, and in the chest you kept for your supplies. You watched them propped up on your bed. While you were angry with yourself that you were so careless, you felt warm that they cared about you. They were great brothers.

After they were done turning your room upside down, Wilbur plopped down next to you and Tommy threw himself over your legs. You three laid there for a while just enjoying each other’s presence. It was nice to spend some time with your brothers, you didn’t get much free time to spend with them because you spent most of your time in your workshop.

The silence was broken by Tommy. “...So, how do you wanna go about telling Technoblade?”

“I’m… not exactly sure. Do we even have to tell him?”

Wilbur pursed his lips. “Even if you didn’t want to, I’m pretty sure he knows something’s up. He’s good at picking up on social cues.”

“Well if that’s the case, I might just wait until he comes to me. It’ll be easier.”

Your door swung open to reveal your piglin hybrid brother. He looked at you with a single eyebrow raised as his ear flicked. “What were you planning on telling me?”

Tommy and Wilbur looked at you expectantly. You shifted your body closer to the wall making room on your bed for him. He walked over and stiffly sat on the edge of your mattress. He gestured for you to talk to him. You slowly slid your sleeve down and showed him your arm. Besides his eyebrows slightly crinkling, he was as stoic as ever when he reached out to grab your wrist for a better look.

On the inside, the voices were almost as loud as when you died. They were nearly incoherent as several angry voices mixed together yelling at him for not noticing anything was wrong with you, the kid he vowed to protect when you first stole his crown and replaced it with a homemade paper one. Outside of the voices, he was furious at himself, he was supposed to protect you. He ran his fingers along the raised lines, gently tracing over every scar and scabbed over cut as if memorizing where every single one lays.

His monotone voice was gruff. “How long? Why?”

“About eight months now. I-I didn’t feel anything for a while after I respawned and I realized that pain helped me feel. It helped ground me when I hallucinated or had panic attacks.”

“...Do you feel anything now?”

“Yeah, I’m getting better Tech. I’m hallucinating less and I’m getting better at managing anxiety attacks. At this point, it's just a habit that I can’t drop.” 

“Do you want to drop it?”

You fell silent. You never really considered stopping before. Before, you would do it to give yourself something to focus on when you were overwhelmed, but now you would do it out of habit. It somehow felt wrong when you skipped a session and it usually threw your entire day off. You would feel drained for the entire day if you didn’t do it. It was one of the only consistent things in your life.

“(Y/n), c’mon you don’t want to keep doing this, right?” Tommy asked before Wilbur reached over and slapped him upside his head. 

“I think,” you breathed out, unsure of yourself, “I want to get better.”

Techno looked at his brothers. “Did you two take their blades?”

Tommy held up the iron dagger and wove it around haphazardly in the air. Techno reached over and pocketed the dagger before discarding his golden crown and placing it on your nightstand. He took off his weighted fluffy cloak and neatly draped it over a nearby chest. He maneuvered his body so that he was laying on your other side and wrapped a lazy arm over your chest. 

With Wilbur on your right side with your wing draped over him, Tommy laying on your stomach with Wilbur reaching down to hold him, and Techno pulling you close to his body, you were pleasantly warm. You were slowly drifting off, being lulled to sleep by Techno’s slow heartbeat. You blissfully fell asleep surrounded by your brothers’ love.

Inspo for the cuddle pile (credit goes to og artist, zillychu): https://zillychu.home.blog/tag/heart-squad-cuddle-pile/

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @ravennightingaleandavatempus  @dirtydiavolo  @yeiras-world  @immadatmostthings�� @hee-hee-haw  @jackalopedoodles  @m1lkmandan  @vanhakirja  @im-a-depressed-gay  @coolleviauchihadreamerlove  @questioning-sanity  @camisascam

@bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @kakamiissad  @jayistrash  @lifestylesleep  @speedymaximoff  @sun-shark-tooth  @appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @starchildnatalya  @kinismanditory  @dragons-lurk-here  @rinzyx05  @the-wandering-pan-ace  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelic-scent  @shinipii  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @izzydimensional  @used-avocado

[outofsstyles]

AU | Famous!Reader x Fashion student!Harry

☁️ FIC PAGE ☁️

word count: 22.9k

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol

//

Time, mystical time

Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine

Were there clues I didn't see?

- Invisible String, Taylor Swift

//

Harry huffs a sigh of relief as he stumbles his way up the last steps of the staircase, being greeted with the familiar sight of the front door to his flat. His shoulders are hunched from the stress of a long day, still getting used to the hectic routine after coming back from the holiday season. Eyelids blinking slower with each step, he sniffs as he reaches for his set of keys in the side pocket of his backpack. Cold drops of rain slide down his neck from his hair and his face feels cold from the whisks of wind that whipped around him in the short jog from the tube station to his building. His feet are sore from standing around for so long, and the beginning of a headache sparking under his temple, making him frown as he takes a beat too long to unlock the door. To say he’s tired would be an understatement, and as much as the warm scent of the vanilla candles welcomed him are soothing, he can’t help but ache for a hot shower.

His bag drops to the floor with a faint thump. The sound of the television takes over the small space, and not long after he shrugs himself out of his coat he catches the sight of a recognizable set of  curls from Julia’s spot in the couch across the room, snuggling against the cushions with a bright pink blanket wrapped around her and a big bowl of popcorn popped in her lap. Harry envies her for a moment, for getting the chance to work as she’s cozied up inside their warm apartment. From where he stands, he can still feel Julia’s gaze taking in his undoubtedly drained appearance, her expression softening a bit.

“Rough day?”

“Jus’ tired.” He reaches up to pull out the hair tie that keeps part of his locks from his eyes, massaging his scalp as he does so. “S’raining a lot.”

“You should’ve taken my umbrella.”

“I’m not going out in public with that.” He scrunches his nose, a hand resting on the wall for support as he reaches down to take off his vans, the shoes suddenly becoming too tight on his feet.

He’s referring to the umbrella she got  roughly a year ago. She had bought it for her mom at a souvenir store and forgot to take it with her on her flight back home for the holidays, so when she came back she’d made the decision to keep it. The top of it is filled with all sorts of typical figures related to London, big red cabins illustrated on the material, surrounded by matching busses and marching soldiers, and of course, an image of a couple Big Bens standing tall next to it. It’s nothing too bad, Harry reckons there’s many uglier gifts she could’ve gotten, but it’s far too touristy for him not to cringe at the thought of parading it around.

Julia scoffs at him, rolling her eyes with a shake of her head. “Buy your own then!” She brings her attention back to the screen in front of her. “Or just catch a cold from walking around in the rain, see if I care.”

He breathes out a laugh at her dramatics, scratching his nose slightly and feeling his icy skin as he makes his way to the bathroom, not indulging further in the banter with his flatmate. Once he’s locked in, Harry can’t help but shrug out of his clothes in an almost impatient manner, eager to finally wash the tension and sweat off of his body.

He takes his time when he finally gets under the hot jet of his showerhead, not holding back a relieved sigh  as the water hits his skin with a hard pressure that’s just as painful as it is satisfying.

When he sees Julia again, stepping out of his room clad in an all grey sweats set (except from a couple paint stains decorating the sweatshirt, result of an art course he attended a few months ago), she’s sitting straighter against the cushions, her hair now up in a ponytail, a small computer propped on her lap taking the place of the popcorn bowl, that’s now by her side. She peeks at Harry for a second from under her glasses before focusing again on typing something he assumes must be work related.

“You know, for someone who’s a fashion major you sure have a questionable taste in clothes.” She doesn’t look up from her screen as she teases.

“When I have money for Gucci I’ll make sure to parade it around the flat.” His steps are still lazy as he reaches the messy counter that separates the kitchen area from where Julia sits on the living room couch. Not paying any mind to the stacks of course books and loose papers on top of it, he leans to rest his hands over the mess. “Until then, you're stuck with my paint-stained sweats. Tea?”

“I’m good.”

Harry’s hand hits the countertop with a faint thump as he turns. The wooden cabinets creek as he opens them in order to locate a hand painted blue mug with colorful little chicks dancing around it. He rests it on the counter as he reaches for the kettle to fill it with water. A woman’s voice takes over the space, her tone pitching louder in enthusiasm as she comments on the name of a couple artists. He recognizes some from scrolling around Spotify playlists or seeing it written on magazines before.  Glancing over his shoulder, Harry catches an image of a red carpet of sorts being transmitted on the screen. An awards show.

It’s the kind of program Harry’s gotten quite used to seeing by now. From the moment Julia landed an internship at a music magazine, there had been enough occasions in which she had to write a piece regarding an award show. Usually, though, those evenings are prompted with the presence of her girlfriend, Blake, (who happens to be Harry’s classmate -- and he still prides himself in his matchmaking skills for introducing them to each other)  who enjoys making snarky comments about people’s outfits as Julia gushes over their performances. Harry’s even joined them a couple times when those nights are held at their flat and not over at Blake’s, not much so for the content -- actually finding most of it boring -- but more for the company. It’s about listening to the two girls bicker as he steals a handful of Julia’s popcorn.

The odd setting of that night doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, though, and once the kettle’s set on the stove he turns to her, leaning back on the counter,  “Is Blake not coming tonight?”

“She left early ‘cause she promised to babysit for her neighbors. Oh! You got mail, by the way.” She doesn’t look up from her computer as she motions with her head to the spot on the counter in front of him where a couple letters sat, some with their seals already ripped.  “Quite fancy if you ask me.”

Harry frowns slightly, not expecting any mail, much less anything fancy. sure enough, it doesn’t take him long to spot the one she’s talking about, as the black envelope easily stands out amongst the regular ones as well as his name written in cursive letters on top of it. When he picks it up, turning it around, he notices a small leaf branch with a golden ribbon attached to the front by a wax seal matching its color (it’s the first time Harry’s actually seen anyone seal a letter like this outside period tv shows and satisfying video compilations on his instagram explore page, and it only helps to deepen the crease between his brows). He can make out the figure of a fern engraved on the seal, but no other indication of the content inside of it.

With a quick motion, Harry breaks the seal, barely catching the tiny branch mid-air as it falls to the ground. He leans forward, resting his arms on the counter as he retrieves the card resting inside. It takes a single read of the words printed on it  for him to realize what's it all about. A wedding invitation. One he’d completely let slip from his memory that was even happening in the first place. Not that he could be blamed for it, considering the last time he’d chatted with the bride and groom he was seventeen living under his mum’s roof a good four-hour drive away. It’s still nice of them to have him in mind, Harry thinks, setting the letter down once he hears the whistling sound of the kettle behind him.

Not thinking much more of the mail, he moves around the small space of the kitchen, humming along to an overplayed song that comes up on the telly, as he finishes preparing his cuppa. Once he’s done, he walks to the couch, making himself comfortable on the opposite end to where Julia sits. His eyes set on the screen in front of them just as an older woman, with her hair pulled back and a silver gown cascading down her body, speaks into a microphone.

“So, what are we watching?” Harry asks with a sip of his tea.

“The Grammys.”

Harry’s brows shoot up. “Is it today already?”

“Yup.” Julia says, not looking up from her computer as she keeps typing. “Have to write an article about it.”

“Look at you!” Harry stretches his arm to bump on his friend’s shoulder. “Getting that permanent spot, I see.”

“Trying to.” She glances at him, motioning with her head to the counter where the mail now lays open. “What have you got there?”

He reaches for the half empty popcorn bowl resting by her side, stealing a few pieces and quickly tossing them into his mouth. “A wedding invitation.”

“Ew, who eats popcorn with tea.” His friend states, moving the bowl to her other side, out of his reach  “A wedding? Since when do you have friends who have their lives together?”

“It’s an old mate, back from school days and all that.” Harry shrugs. “Haven’t spoken to him in a bit, though.”

“Are you going?”

“Think so.” He takes another sip, unpocketing his phone from his sweats. “Will be good to see everyone again.”

Julia simply hums in response, and, as Harry focuses his attention on his phone, he can hear her typing resume. For a while they stay like this, as he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feeds, even answering a text or two --which is rare for Harry since he often left messages unopened for days - except for a comment or two coming from her side of the couch. Every now and then he glances up to the bigger screen, either when he’s asked for his opinion on someone’s outfit or when Julia wants to know whose designer is behind it -- and Harry prides himself on recognizing most of them, having studied their collection campaigns for his marketing class in his last term. What calls his full attention, however, is the mention of a particular name, making his ears perk up and his eyes glue themselves to the screen.

It’s not unusual for him to hear your name, of course it isn’t, as you have settled on  top of several radio spots for the past year or two. He’s grown used to hearing your name plenty, but it doesn’t get any less odd for him, to have what once was such a familiar face  become such a distant yet still reocurring figure.

Going through a breakup, especially when it’s your first relationship, is already hard enough as it is. Harry reckons most people probably do their best to distance themselves in order to heal and move on, try not to think of the person who hurt them. But it’s not like he had much of a choice with you. He could delete all your pictures from his computer, wipe it all , hide the letters and polaroids in a box under his bed and he still wouldn’t be able to run away from you. It’s as if the moment he was out of your life you’d grown bigger than either of you could’ve imagined as you lied together on his bedroom floor. In a matter of a year or so your name was up in lights, your face greeted him everywhere he went; that being printed in the front of the gossip magazines lined together as he checked out his groceries, or at an editorial cover as he studied for his design theory class. There wasn’t much of an escape.

It was hard in the beginning, of course it was. Mainly  when he inevitably had to read the scandalous headlines about you being all over some big haired bloke from a boyband at some extravagant party in West Hollywood. Yeah, that was a hard one. But as most things in life, Harry had to get over it eventually. And with you quickly becoming more and more out of his reach, your image being just as sweet as it is strange of a memory to him, he  learned how to desensitize himself.

That  doesn’t mean he’s not curious, though, which is what shifts his focus to the tvonce he hears your name. Sure enough, there you are, the most familiar stranger he’s ever known. Your smile is discreet, but still charming in a way that makes whoever’s watching you want to know what kind of secrets you’re keeping, and Harry can’t help but wonder as well. He doesn’t recognize the emerald sequined dress you have on (and makes a mental note to check later who it from) and he figures it was probably custom made for you, as it hugs your body perfectly. He doesn’t mean to notice that, he really doesn’t, but as the camera zooms in, panning from your golden heels, up your leg that appears from the side slit of your skirt as you walk down the carpet, and stopping at your face, still sporting a smirk as you divide your attention between different photographers screaming your name, he can’t help but notice how good you look.

“Look at her.” Julia sighs, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. That's when he realizes he’s slouched forward.. Relaxing back into the cushions, he takes another gulp of his tea, which has gotten considerably cooler as it rests forgotten on his lap. “Don’t blame you for being her groupie, I would too, if I had the chance.”

“Wasn’t a fucking groupie, I told you that.” Harry rolls his eyes at his friend, knowing her love for torturing him since she’s learned the information of his past relationship.  “We dated before she even set foot in America.”

“So?” She looks at him, eyebrows shooting towards her hairline as she keeps nudging. “You were her first groupie before she even had them.”

He shakes his head. “Enough with the groupie talk, please, not in front of my tea.”

“I’ll never fully process the fact that you dated her.” Julia pushes the topic, her hand motioning to your image still being shown on the telly. “You got to kiss her and everything! Wild.”

“Julia, can you stop talking about my ex and write whatever it is that you have to.”

“Not when your ex is one of the biggest names in the music industry, no.” Julia pauses and, for a moment, Harry thinks she might’ve finally dropped the subject. However, once he doesn’t hear the sound of her fingers going back to typing on her computer he looks back at her, catching  her eyes still glued to the screen, her brows set in a frown.  He can almost hear the wheels inside her head turning. He focuses back on his phone, saying a silent prayer that whatever it is she’s thinking, she’ll just drop.. His wishes are futile, however, when she speaks up again, her words coming out slow but full of intention, “Is she friends with this dude that invited you to his wedding?”

“Julia…”

“I’m serious! Imagine if you bump into her at their wedding!” She fully turns to him, her voice pitching in excitement at the scenario.

“Even if she did get invited.” Harry starts, refusing to meet her eyes. “I doubt she’d go.”

“Why not?”

“Cause she’s one of the biggest names in the music industry? Haven’t you just said that?”

“Right.” The girl sits back on the couch, gnawing at her bottom lip before bursting again, “But what if?”

“She won’t.”

“You seem very sure of that.”

“And you’ve been reading too many romance novels.” He scoffs. “It’s starting to affect your perception of reality. It’s worrisome, really.”

“As if you didn’t watch The Notebook every day religiously before going to sleep.”

“Not everyday.”

The two friends keep pestering each other for a bit,  until the opening performance starts, signaling the beginning of the award show, and Julia had to focus back on her work . as the silence set in the room, except for Highway To Hell stretching around the walls, Harry let his mind zoom out, his flatmate’s words painting every inch of his brain.

He’d never let his mind wonder what it would be like to see you again. Would you even recognize him? No. And even if you did, , he’d probably become as much of a far-off memory like you have to him. One of those people you think about once or twice after it happened and greets the nostalgic feeling as it embraces you in a brief moment, quickly moving on to more important things. Surely, you have plenty more important things to worry  about than your ex boyfriend that you left in your hometown  four years ago.

Shaking his head, Harry scolds himself for letting his mind wander. It has been five years, for god’s sake! He’s moved on. He has! But there’s still the tiny voice, whispering annoyingly in the back of his head, like an insistent child trying to get him to listen to them, saying it over and over. What if?

//

Golden specks of sunlight peeked from the cracks of the bricked buildings outside, shining through his window as a silent reminder of the sun setting in the horizon, and you knew it was almost time for you to go home. You ignored it, though. Only snuggling back on the arm resting behind your head as you laid on the ground next to him, focusing on the feeling of his fingers playing with yours that rest on top of your stomach, and the soothing voice of Joni Mitchell singing softly in the background.

Harry was adorably excited to show you the vinyl he got from the weekend getaway with his father and stepmum, pulling you up the stairs before you could even properly greet his mother in the kitchen. You sat on his bed as he went through all the relics he managed to snatch at the local fair he had visited. Barely holding back a smile, you bit your lip as you watched him ramble about a vintage camera he got from a dutch lady. His hair had grown a bit, you’d noticed, messy curls poking out of his head, dancing slightly as he talked. Once he got to the record, you didn’t shy away from placing a peck on his cheek, right next to the dimple the deepened after your action, asking him to play it for you, as you reached for his pillow and placed it on the usual spot you’d hangout right under his window.

He was telling you about some new paint set he wanted, lying on his back looking mindlessly at the ceiling. You closed your eyes, listening to the sound of the words slipping easily out of his lips along with the sound of his breath as you moved your head closer to his chest. What made you blink your eyelids open again was when he stopped talking, a new song starting with gentle strokes of an acoustic guitar.

Looking up at him, you met his gaze already staring back at you, and you adjusted your position, turning on your side so you could take a better look. He was wearing his favorite navy blue Fleetwood Mac tee, one you’d gifted him on his sixteenth. You loved how it enhanced the color of his eyes, and you were reminded of it once again when you looked into his jade irises, almost forgetting to take a breath as you did so.

“What’s this one called?” You broke the silence, softening your voice as you were afraid to speak too loudly, almost feeling as if you were interrupting Mitchell’s declaration of love.

“A Case of You.” Harry answered, turning his body to face yours.

You didn’t say anything back, instead, you took a minute to pay attention to the lyrics that painted the four walls of his room at that moment.

I remember that time you told me / You said, “Love is touching souls.” / Surely you touched mine / Cause it pours out of me

“It’s beautiful.” You whispered, not daring to look away from him.

Harry hummed in agreement, his hand reaching up to move a strand of your hair away from your face. Smiling softly, he said, “‘S my favourite.” You watch him chew on his bottom lip, hesitating for a second before whispering, “I got something for you.”

Your smile  widens. “Really?” He nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged, looking down to where his fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt. “Didn’t know if you’d like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, H.” You sit up, crossing your legs under your bum, a spark of excitement and curiosity shooting through your body as you rush him, “Go get it!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, love.” He laughs, sitting up from his position and reaching back for his backpack resting on top of the bed.

You watched as he retrieved a small pale pink box, wrapped with a silver ribbon, tied in a pretty bow on top. There was a nervous hesitance to him as he handed you the gift, you noticed a reddish tone painting his cheeks, it was subtle, you could’ve easily missed it if the light wasn’t shining on his face, still, you couldn’t help but reach forward, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose. It’s quick, but you still earned a giggle that escaped his throat, mumbling afterwards, urging you to unwrap the box as he bit down his lip.

Wrapping your fingers on the ribbon that sealed the package, you swiftly untied it, allowing it to fall on the carpet next to you. A gasp eased out of your lips as soon as you opened the lid, revealing a heart-shaped gold pendant hanging on a delicate chain.

“‘S a locket.” He revealed quietly, eyes jumping from the jewelry in your hands to your face, watching your reaction. “It’s empty now, can put whatever you want in it.”

You touched the piece gently, feeling the texture of the engraved flowers under your fingertips, there’s a knot threatening to tighten your throat at the tenderness of his action but you swallow it back in order to speak, even though your words tremble out of your lips,

“I love it.”

You reach your free hand to touch the necklace being presented to you, craning your neck the slightest bit - as to not disturb Amie’s work on your brows - to get a better look at the piece. It’s a short golden chain, white crystal stones placed carefully around it. As you hold it in your palm you can tell how delicate it is, and you guess it’ll probably barely be noticeable as you strut your way down the red carpet in a couple of hours, but you assume the simple jewelry will make the whole difference in your headshots. With a final look you give a small nod to the short brunette still watching you closely, reaffirming your approval as you gently hand the necklace back to her.

She disappears from your sight in a beat and you relax back on your seat, not bothering to say anything else. It’s clear that everyone else has realized by now that you’re in a mood (if your unusual silence isn’t a big indication, you’re sure your face says it all), as they’re mostly speaking with each other and leaving you be. Acting like a stuck up egocentric diva was never in your plans to start the day of your first attendance at the Grammy Awards. It’s not like you can help it, though, but you try your hardest to make up for it. You force a smile for a bit too long, say please and thank you way too many times in a voice that makes you cringe to yourself. When they ask how you’re doing, you simply brush it off as a bad night of sleep.

Well, that isn’t entirely a lie, you are tired. The routine of staying out until dawn to catch a nap for maybe two or three hours everyday seems to have finally taken a toll on you. And of course it would all hit you like a brick in what feels like one of the most important nights of your career. Because why the fuck wouldn’t it?

Still, you know the main reason for your sour mood has got to do with much more than just a burnout due to a thread of poor sleep nights. You know the reason lies deep within the prior months that led to where you are now. But it’s not like you’re ready to unravel any of that.

So, with barely three hours of sleep under your belt, you woke up with your eyes still sticky from the previous night (due to the poor job you did on taking off your mascara before slipping under the covers) to be met with the high ceiling of the penthouse suite you booked for the week. Most times, when waking up after a night out, mind still buzzing and tongue slightly numb from the alcohol, it’s a slow rise. It starts with lazy blinks and a slow recollection of your surroundings, a lethargic way your head has to process the fact that it needs to start working again. But this morning you didn’t have that privilege of easing your way into consciousness. No. Your eyes snapped open with the sudden invasion of sunlight into your room, the chirping sound of voices coming muffled from the living room.

It’s almost noon, a voice lets you know, coming into your eyesight with a long floral dress flowing all the way down her calves, the sleeves tight on her elbows as she types something on her phone. Sonia, your manager, knows you too well as to not coarse you into waking up, but rather doing the most efficient way, that being not to give an option unless getting out of bed. She doesn’t waste a second before pulling you covers back, the action causing a whine to escape from your lips as the cool air of the AC embraces your body like a bucket of cold water.

“There’s breakfast waiting for you outside.” She gazed up at you, her eyes nudging into a motherly glare at your state.

“Coffee?” Is all you mumbled, sitting up.

“Later. Right now caffeine is not ideal for your headache.”

“I don’t—“

“There’s ibuprofen.” She motioned with her head to the nightstand right next to you, her attention back to the phone in her hand as it started to buzz. “And water. Lots of it. I’m sending in hair and makeup in ten.”

In reality, you had just about five minutes to wash away the night before you heard a commotion outside the bathroom door. There was just enough time for you to swallow back the painkiller that was settled in the nightstand as a good morning gift and to strip out of your clothes when people started knocking on the door. You ignored it, though, as your head pulsed with the continuous streak of sleepless nights and strong drinks and the cold rush of water from the waterfall shower did very little to lighten up your mood. And it doesn’t help that those five minutes were the last relaxing moment of the day before people started rushing in like a violent stream of water.

So, yes, to say you’re moody can be an understatement.

Right now you’ve been munching on an apple for the past half hour, using it as an excuse to not barge into conversations. The leather of the chair you’ve been on for what feels like forever now (which is code for about a full hour) is starting to stick to your thighs as your robe has ridden up your body. There’re what feels like hundreds of hands on you. Pulling at your hair, swiping products on your face, poking onto your nails. Their voices every minute or so smoothing in request as if you’re one of those voice controlled dolls of sorts — turn your head, stay still, close your eyes, don’t move.

This is a process you’ve always found near excessive, and probably your least favorite part of going to an event of such importance. Recalling the first time you had this many people in charge of helping you get ready, you remember the excitement. It was easy, being the center of attention without having to lift a single finger. However, it did lose its glamour rather quickly. You like your independence way too much. That ranges from being able to get ready by yourself to going alone to a cocktail party.

Though you know there’s not much you can do about it, so you just relax back, knowing the less you think about it, the quicker it’ll be over.

The moment you let your eyes fall closed, feeling the smooth brush color your eyelids, you hear it. It’s faint, and you have to focus on the low sound of the speaker in the background, under the rushed voices of what feels like too many people in the room, to really hear it. But once you do, your ears perk up as the oh so familiar voice starts to sing, and you can’t help but let your eyes snap back open at the opening verse of A Case of You. This earns a small scolding from Amie but you don’t register it, instead, you turn your head to the side to listen to it better.

“Whose playlist is this?” You ask, lips twitching upwards as the first chorus comes up.

“Think it’s Mia’s.” Someone from behind you answers it with a slight pull to your hair.

It takes you a second too long to answer her at first, the melody embracing you like a nostalgic hug, “‘S a good one.” You nod, not knowing who Mia is but still appreciating her choice.  “I love this song.”

“I remember, back in college, when my ex broke up with me as he was dropping me off from my cousin’s birthday party,” Amie starts, interrupting your moment as she holds your chin between her fingers, gently positioning you to face her and you let your eyes fall closed again. “I sat down in my dorm, put on Joni Mitchell and cried for the rest of the night.”

“Ouch, that must’ve been harsh.” You breathe out a laugh, the action worsening the throb in your head and you immediately fall sober again, recalling your own experience of crying listening to her disks.  “Good choice, though. It’s a good song to cry to.”

“Sure is.”

Amie quickly strikes another conversation with the girls in charge of your hair and you fall silent again. The song still plays softly in the background, but as much as you try to focus on it, to let the comforting words of the familiar song detach you from the position you’re in, make you forget about the suffocating feeling of having this many people so up on your personal space, you can barely hear it under their voices. A loud laugh disrupts your attempt and you have to refrain from cringing in frustration.

Suddenly, you feel yourself become too aware of the tangle of noises swiping around the place. The door to the hotel room opens and closes a couple of times. Muffled sounds of steps rushing around on the carpeted floor. Someone calls a name from the living room area. The woman in charge of your nails chats with the one doing your hair as she finishes her work (giving you at least one bit of relief). The overwhelming feeling comes back, hitting you like a brick, and you start feeling too hot under the ring light. You’re about to speak up, excuse yourself for a moment so you can walk to the balcony and feel the outdoor air untangle the knot in your chest. But before you do, you hear a familiar voice coming from behind you.

“How are we feeling here?” Sonia appears in front of you as you blink your eyes open (slowly, as to not mess up Amie’s work on your eyeshadow). She holds up a cup of coffee in your direction and you accept it gladly, holding it carefully with your freshly manicured nails.

“We’re certainly feeling.” You take a sip, wincing slightly at the hot beverage. “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Nervous?”

The question makes you suddenly become too aware of the nerves tugging at your belly, like when you only feel the sting of a scratch one someone points it out. The reminder of your first time attending the ceremony as an official Grammy nominee gives your stomach a funny twist. However, it’s not your anxiousness that’s bugging you as you feel another gentle tug at your hair. But you choose not to voice your annoyance, afraid of sounding too much of a diva (something you’ve been policing yourself closely not to do for the past few months), only letting out a slight wince. “A bit.”

“It’ll be alright.” She places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Not that different from other award shows, you’ll see.”

“I guess.”

“Oh!” Sonia exclaims, unlocking her phone on her other hand. “I’ve changed your flight back home like you asked.” She scrolls for a bit before stopping with a sip of her own coffee.  “You’ll be leaving on the twenty first, is that good?”

“It’s alright.” You sigh, knowing it’s not the ideal scenario you had planned, to catch an early flight the day after your birthday, but being used to the hectic agenda and the sudden change of plans.

“The driver will pick you up at five.” She gives you a look. “In the morning.”

“I know. I know.”

“That’s sorted, then.” She locks her phone again, turning her attention to Amie, who’s brushing a product gently against your cheekbone. “How much longer do you think?”

“Give me fifteen and she’s all yours.” Amie peeks up at the older woman.

“Perfect.” She smiles back at you. “You look beautiful, and you’ll do great tonight.”

“Thanks, Sunny.” You grin at the brim of your cup, addressing her by the nickname you’d given the first week she started working for you.

True to her word, Amie finishes off her work not much longer after Sonia disappears from the room after turning around the threshold leading into the living room area. And, just as you take the last sip of your coffee, while scrolling mindlessly through your phone in an attempt to keep your mind distracted, you hear a commotion coming from the other side of the walls.

It takes another minute for you to get up from the spot you’ve been sitting for what feels like hours now to go investigate. You enter the living room being greeted with a trail of croissants, and you take one, biting carefully before letting out a satisfied hum.

From this moment on, time moves relatively quickly. Soon enough, you’re standing in front of a full body mirror, feeling the poke of the last few adjustments in your gown. It’s a sequined emerald gown, one you’d find a bit too much of a safe choice upon seeing it at first, but as you see how it hugs perfectly at your curves, you’re sold.

You arrive at the red carpet with twenty minutes to spare before the show starts — not too early to be quickly forgotten by the ones that arrive after you, but also not too late to be glazed over. The Los Angeles January sky is cloudless, but despite being in the peak of wintertime the air surrounding you is warm, almost too warm, even.

The screams quickly swallow you, some coming from people on the other side of the street, waiting for a glance of whoever’s stepping out of their cars at the entrance, others are hidden behind bright flashes that you can force yourself to look at for too long. You wave, giving the same smile you’ve perfected over the years, the one that Amie says makes it look like you hold all the secrets of the world, but still friendly enough to avoid headlines about being too pretentious.

A girl, not much younger than you it seems, directs you further down the carpet. You pay little mind to her, only directing a small smile as you blindly follow her steps. Scanning your eyes through the crowd gathered before the entrance, you manage to catch familiar faces all around. Everyone’s at their most presentable, and you feel like, even if you didn’t know any of them, you would’ve easily been able to pick out the stars as they parade around the place like sore thumbs. It’s the Hollywood glow, one that can easily be spotted on their stuffed chests and their cheshire cat smiles, bodies clad in thousand dollar fabric as they spill out the big names behind it. You’re not different from any of them, you’re aware.

It takes longer than you’d expected to finally walk inside the Staples Center, following behind the same girl that greeted you when you made your entrance. Once she directs you to your seat, you hold back a relieved sigh to find Ayame standing right next to it -- you had requested to be seated next to her but considering her tendencies of skipping red carpet for the sake of arriving fashionably late (her words) you’d been scared you’d have to sit through your anxiety by yourself for a good chunk of the show.

Your brows shoot towards your hairline to the sight of her newly dyed bright orange hair, the locks gelled back, allowing her neon colored eye makeup to stand out on her face. She’s in a black latex dress, the silhouette mimicking a classical 50s gown with an off shoulder neckline. The top part of it seems to be clad so tightly to her body that you mindlessly hold your breath for a moment as you approach her.

It takes a while for her to notice you as she chats excitedly with someone you recognize as the lead singer of some pop punk band you haven’t really tried to learn the name of (but you do know is nominated with you for Best Pop Group/Duo Performance). The second her eyes meet yours, however, she’s rushing the couple steps to close the distance between you two, pulling you into a hug as she squeals your name. Her excitement is one of the first things to bring a genuine smile to your face all day, truth to be told.

“Hi, Aya.” You mutter over her shoulder, minding where you place your hands to hug her back so as to not mess with her hair.

“Hey you.” She pulls away, taking a step back to take in your appearance. You’re aware you two probably look like quite the duo together, her out of the box choice of a look certainly contrasting with your safe option (one that can look quite plain as you stand next to her, you realize.) But she doesn’t pay any mind to the antithesis, instead, only clapping her hands together as she moves her gaze down your body. “You look so beautiful! Oh my god, your dress even matches my eye!”

“That’s true.” You giggle (a real one) at her observation, taking notice of the way her thick green eyeliner curls down her cheekbone. “Guess we coordinated even without meaning to.”

“Oh god!” Her shoulders lump, eyes softening, and her lips plumping into a small pout. “Please, will you ever be able to forgive me for not coming with you?”

“Aya, it’s fine.” You reassure her.

From the moment your name started circling around different magazines as one of the favorite’s for snatching a couple nominations, Aya told you how she wanted to be with you for your first official attendance at the awards. You chatted over glasses of wine and endless bowls of oyakodon (on those rare nights that’s just the two of you in her New York apartment and she’d decide to try teaching you yet another japanese dish), making plans for today, daydreaming about getting ready together and walking down the carpet with linked arms and matching smiles. But this was before Aya signed for her Chanel campaign, and before you stopped feeling excited about mingling outside your comfort zone.  

“Nothing I’ve never done before.”

“I know but it’s your first Grammy Awards!” She sighs, her voice on the verge of a whine. “You’re the star of the night!”

There’s a sound announcement that the show is merely five minutes away from starting that cuts you as your lips part. As you two move to take your seats by the center-left of the main stage, you say, “Not sure about that one.”

You feel her gaze from the corner of your vision as you glance around the space, watching the biggest names in the industry pacing around just an arm reach away from you. After a second, you meet her concerned eyes, and when she speaks up again her voice is gentle, verging on cautious. “How are you?”

You look away from her, picking at your nails for a moment before you realize you’re ruining the fresh manicure. With a shrug, you try to dodge from the real answer she’s looking for with her question. “Good. Nervous. Tired.”

“Grumpy.” A teasing smile tugs at your friend’s lips.

“Tired.” You repeat.  “Didn’t really get any sleep, if I’m honest. Think I might actually pass out this time around.”

“Were you out last night?” She hesitates before continuing, her voice lowering an octave. “With Dora?”

“We just went to a cocktail party, nothing too crazy.”

A photographer stops by, interrupting you to take a picture of the two of you next to each other. As soon as he’s gone you look back at Aya, she’s the one not meeting your eye this time.“I don’t like her.”

You sigh. “I know.”

“I don’t.” She shifts in her seat, looking down at her lap before gazing up at you. “I just don’t think she has your best interests in mind.”

“And I don’t think this is the best place for us to discuss this. Again.”

“You’re right.” Aya nods, more to herself than to you. “Tonight is about you. Screw Dora and screw--”

The music playing around the arena pauses, and you both know this means the ad break is over. Cameras start moving around you and that’s enough for Aya to drop the subject and relax back on her seat. With the lights dimmed and the attention set on stage, it’s much easier for you to let your frown deepen for a moment as you take in the words she was about to say.

It takes just a minute for you to go back to your alert state, however, as a camera dances its way in front of you. A silent reminder of the eyes watching you all around.

The greater half of the show drags by and you find yourself zooming out more times than you wish. You know that Aya notices, giving you the same concerned look when you take a beat too long to clap for someone’s speech, or when you keep repeating the same robotic movements during someone’s performance. Award shows are known for crawling their way to the end, but most times than not, you can easily carry yourself through it with not much yawning. But right now that’s shown to be a harder task than you thought, and you find yourself urging for something to keep you at ease (it’s why you like the Brits so much, at least there you could down a glass of tequila and let its warmth drown the nerves in your belly.)

What bugs you even more is the fact that this was supposed to be the best night of your life. The weight of its importance should be translated into flaps of butterflies in your stomach not a tangle of thoughts clouding your brain. And the pressure you put on yourself to force some enjoyment out of you only helps make it harder for you to fight a crease to form between your brows.

The first time you let go of living inside your head is when the sound announcement for your first category echoes around the arena during -- yet another -- commercial break. You’re talking with Dua Lipa, exchanging the formality of compliments on each other's work (in your weak attempt at networking when you don’t feel like talking), when you hear it. There’s an electric spark that shoots down your spine, and you’re sure it's evident in your face as she comments on your nomination, earning a nervous laugh in return. It jolts you like a flip of a switch, and you have to hold back from bouncing on your feet at the prospect of finally allowing yourself to enjoy the night. Your night, you correct yourself, hopeful.

Around you, cameras come alive again as you reach your seat. It’s like your whole body feels numb, every cell electrified with anticipation in a way that the only thing you can focus on is the speed of your heartbeat. The rush of your bloodstream spreads warmth from the apple of your cheeks to the tip of your toes. You realize Aya’s hand is in yours when she squeezes it tightly, forcing you to share a quick glance at her to find an expectant smile adorning her face.

It’s only when they call the nominees for Best New Artist that you realize you never really thought you had a chance of snatching it. Maybe in a way you tried to keep your expectations low, knowing the set of talents that share the category nominations with you. So you wait for them to call someone else’s name. You prepare to put on your best smile, to clap politely for the winner. But that’s not what happens.

Because they call out your name.

Aya hugs you so tightly it brings tears to your eyes, your mind suddenly snapping back into reality and you realize that yes, this is really happening. You’re sure you float all the way upstage, you mind blank and your hands shaky as you accept the statuette. In a few days, people are gonna ask you about this moment, how it was looking back at the arena with your new Grammy in hands to give your acceptance speech, and you’re just gonna laugh it off charmingly about how you had it at the tip of your tongue. In reality, the moment you gaze back at the ocean of people, all in their black tuxedos and extravagant gowns, the only thing you focus is to fight back the knot in your throat, keeping your voice surprisingly steady as you barely register a single word that leaves your mouth.

Still shaking, you walk backstage, accepting congratulatory words and receiving a couple hugs along the way. You talk to reporters and take pictures, words coming a bit throaty as you allow yourself to feel a bit teary. The award feels heavy in your hand, the golden record player glimmering back at you, the shot of adrenaline waving off as you stare at the blank spot waiting to be engraved with your name.

Once you’re back on your seat, the buzz in your body starts to wear off. You feel your phone going off in your clutch and, when the familiar signal for the commercial break goes off, you reach for it. The screen lights up immediately, showing a thread of messages coming up at the second. You unlock it, feeling the urge to call someone as you let your thumb glaze over it before tapping the phone app. It opens up, showing a couple of missed calls from when you were backstage that you make a mental reminder to check back on it later. You look at the screen expectantly, as if waiting for something to happen when it hits you. You have no one to call.

Looking up, you try desperately to catch some friendly eyes, but you come back empty handed. Aya has gone backstage to get ready for her performance, and Sunny, along with other people from your team, have taken this time to celebrate, mingling around the place.

The messages are still lighting up on your screen as you blink back the tears that now threaten to fall down your cheeks, your chest heaving when the knot gets tighter. It’s a bit ironic, you think, the amount of people reaching out to you and yet you’ve never felt this alone. This was all you wanted, right here in your hands. All you focused on. Your life has never been better. Climb all the way to the mountaintop, isn’t that what they say? Then why does it feel so lonely?

There’s all these people, smiling at you, offering their kind words. Celebrating your achievement. But none of them feel like someone you can rely on, and you can’t help but wonder:

Shouldn't you have someone that you could call?

//

Harry’s not having a good day.

He’s not having a good week, actually.  Just as he’s stuck on a hectic routine in the middle of arranging costumes for the next musical (they’re doing Beauty and the Beast which requires a lot of layering that, as pretty as he finds the final result, can be a pain to sew) he managed to come down with a cold. So, whereas he wanted nothing more than to take a couple days off to snuggle under his newly acquired electric blankets while binging the new season of How To Get Away With Murder, the dress rehersal dates are just around the corner, so he just had to ignore his runny nose and throbbing head in order to rush into the final tailoring of the costumes. And if being sick wasn’t enough to throw him off a curve, he’s been having an special difficult time with Lumière’s full-skirted coat, his hazed mind causing him to misplace the golden laser cut detailing twice, as well as poke himself with the needle enough times to leave the skin of his finger red and sore. All of this also warranted him three scoldings from Lisa, who’s the head costume designer and whom Harry had prided himself on never getting on her bad side, so to say he’s been grouchy all week is an understatement.

On top of it all, like the bright red cherry on top of the shit cake that was his week, he’s late. He’s late to a wedding he’d all but forgotten about, and if it wasn’t for the annoyingly loud alarm reminder he’d set on his phone (that rang conventionally just a minute after he finally got to lay back on his bed after getting home from work -- he doesn’t usually work on saturdays but Lisa messaged him about an emergency with Belle’s dress, so he’d spent the entire morning hopping around fabric stores) he’d have probably slept right through it.  Harry thought about rain checking it, literally, as he hit the snooze button just as gentle raindrops started tapping against his window. He actually considered it. But as soon as he let his eyes fall closed the guilt started settling in. He had confirmed his presence directly with the groom when he called to send his congratulations after receiving the invitation. He gave him his word, and he’ll stick by it.

But it still doesn’t help the fact that he’s late. Which is why he’s rushing up the escalator on the tube station. The rain hasn’t gotten any better from the moment he’d jumped out of bed, still showering from the sky much like a last goodbye from winter as it blends into spring. This time he took Julia on her offer, grabbing her umbrella before leaving home -- and making sure to avert his eyes from the tacky imprints on the fabric to keep himself from cringing, as the only reason for him to be taking it in the first place is to keep his hair and his clothes as intact as possible (at times like this is when he’s the most thankful for the degree chose, because he’s not quite sure how else he’d be able to get his hand on a suit at the last minute if he hadn’t had one he’d tailored himself on his first year.)

He gets a few looks as he stumbles on the last step, a line of apologies rushing out of his lips while he struggles to open the umbrella. When it finally flings open with a thud, the gush of wind prepares to take it away but is prevented from doing so as Harry tightens his grip on the handle, he checks his phone again for the time. The screen lights up with the indication that he’s got five minutes for the ceremony and Harry mutters a cuss as he remembers the venue is a ten minute walk from the station, so he picks up his pace, the sound of the heels of his boots against the cobblestone blending with the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the ground.

He knows he’s arrived as soon as he turns around the corner. The 18th-century building takes over most of the block, its stoned walls take a camel tone contrasting with the black of the iron railing that hugs its front--only giving space to two dark oak wooden columns located on each side of the front entrance. There’s a small group stepping out of a black taxi, a suited-clad man helps a woman out of the vehicle as she holds onto the skirt of her navy blue gown to prevent it from dragging it into the damp concrete sidewalk. They’ve clearly just arrived for the ceremony that’s set to happen in just a couple minutes now, and Harry can’t help but let out a relieved sigh as he realises he’s just about made it in time.

Letting his pace slow down to a jog, his shoulders relax as he tries to even out his breathing as he approaches the group in an attempt to not give away the fact that he was properly running for the past five blocks. But just as he does so, as a stronger gust of wind whips against his face. Harry barely has time to process it as the umbrella in his hand inverts its shape, the wires holding the fabric together snapping broken. It’s so sudden that it takes him backwards a couple steps, a high pitched yelp falling from his lips as the raindrops start to hit his face like needles, quickly sinking through the fabric of his suit.

“Fucking--”

His struggle catches the attention of the group standing outside the building, and he can feel their heads turning in his direction from the corner of his vision. There're a few repressed laughs that still make their way to his ears, and one of the men speaks up, his eyes lit in amusement, “Alright, mate?”

Harry glances down at the broken umbrella in his hand, his other arm coming up in a weak attempt to shield him from the drops now sliding down his cheeks. He looks up, clicking his tongue. “I’m good.”

There’s a shame in his walk as he makes his way to a trash can right next to the group, giving them a small nod before throwing the now-useless tool inside of it. He tries not to think about how perfect it would be for the earth to swallow him whole as he jogs again the few steps towards the entrance of the house.

At least now he’ll never have to look again at that tasteless thing every time he enters his flat, he tries to reason.

Thankfully, the weather consists mostly of sporadic gusts of wind, rather than a proper rainstorm. So, by the time he reaches the covered white-painted entrance, the thin droplets of water were only good for dampening his hair and shoulders (and tangling a few knots into his strands that he feels once he runs his hand through it), but not powerful enough to soak through his clothes.

“Good afternoon, sir.” A lady greets him as he steps inside the venue, she holds a cream clipboard on the crook of her arm, hugging it against her body. Her freshly dyed red locks contrast with the beige tone of the ambient, matching with her earth-brown dress. A smile stretches in her face, accentuating her age lines, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, brows shooting up in surprise as if she didn’t expect him to walk in.

“Afternoon.” Harry reaches his hand to push back his hair, nose scrunching as he feels a few droplets slide down his neck. The lady looks up at him expectantly, her eyes moving down not so subtly, smile tightening as she takes in his appearance. He clears his throat, speaking up when she doesn’t offer any response, “Uhm… I’m here for Michael and Elise… For their wedding, I mean.”

“Right!” She nods, and Harry notices the way her eyes glance down at his blazer one more time before she focuses on the clipboard, moving it so it stands on her eyesight. She opens her mouth but before any word can leave her lips her hand reaches up to press her finger against the ear device, brows furrowing in concentration as she listens in. He stands there awkwardly for a moment,waiting for her instructions as she nods along to whatever’s being said. “I just have one more guest coming in.” She mumbles into the device, shooting a quick glance to down the hallway, before she focuses back on him, her voice coming a bit rushed. “May I have your name, please?”

“Uh, course, yeah. Styles.”

She gazes down at the list in her hand, flipping the pages as her eyes scan through the names. “Harry Styles?” He offers a hum in agreement as he watches her check his name. She looks back up, motioning towards the end of the long hallway, where there are double glass doors, only one of them open, leading to what seems like an outdoor area. “You can just head  straight ahead to the courtyard for the ceremony. The reception afterwards will be upstairs.”

“Alright, thanks.” He has half a mind to ask her for the men’s room so he can at least fix his undoubtedly rumpled appearance but, before he even thinks of doing so, she already has her back to him, taking long strides towards a closed door located to the side and disappearing inside of it. He huffs out a breath, eyes widening slightly as he mumbles to himself. “Okay, then.”

Harry walks through a threshold leading to a second part of the hallway, this one with a darker cast to it, thanks to the walnut tone of the wooden walls, passing by a number of ash grey armchairs set neatly on each side of the corridor -- looking so sleek that Harry wonders if anyone has ever used them for anything other than a decoration piece. The low mesh of voices invades the indoor space, getting just slightly louder once he enters the courtyard area.

The glass door he enters from leads to the right side of the seating plan, all the white wooden chairs with their backs turned to him (thankfully, as he doesn’t really feel like making a grand entrance to announce how late he is). He notices another set of double glass doors to his left that are set right at the center, a tan colored carpet stretching from it all the way to the altar, and, opposite to where he stands, a white piano is being played, the soft melody serving as background noise. The last few rolls of seats near him are mostly empty, apart from a few people that chose the ones closest to the aisle, so Harry manages to sneak his way to a chair by the far end without catching anyone’s attention.

Once he’s finally able to relax back into the -- not so comfortable -- seat, there’s a relieved sigh that escapes his lips unintentionaly, and he finally allows himself to take a better look at his surroundings. The first thing that he notices as he stretches his neck (in an attempt to relieve some tension he’s been holding throughout the entire day) is a glass roof serving as a shield from the raindrops that still fall stubbornly from the sky. It’s definitely a semi-new addition to the construction, Harry reckons, as it gives a modern touch to the historical building. It’s almost transfixing the way the metal structure bends in the shape of a simple mandala, one that’s now being colored with easing streaks of water running down its dome-esque build.

From where he chose to sit there’s not much of the rest room he can really make out, most of his vision being obstructed by a wall of heads. What he is able to catch sight of is the waterfall fountain standing tall right behind the altar, the blanket of water falling along the stoned wall is so clear that one could easily miss it if it wasn’t for the lights located right above of it, bright and shimmering in contrast to the dim lighting of the rest of the room. The sound of it is soothing, like an indoor drizzle, and it blends so perfectly with the melody of the piano that Harry wonders if the man playing it is even aware of himself doing it. Right next to it, at the opposite far end of the space, is large light up letters spelling the word LOVE in a yellowed light. It’s something that he’s certain he could easily find corny if he didn’t consider himself a hopeless romantic of sorts.

Which also can justify why he’s not able to keep his eyes dry throughout most of the ceremony.

It starts just about a minute after he’s settled on his seat, barely having time to sit back before he finds himself standing up again with the rest of the crowd. And, from the moment Harry caught sight of the groom's face as the bride finally made her entrance, he’s a goner. He remembers as a young boy, being forced by his mum to attend a handful of weddings during his childhood, how boring he used to find them. Funny how time changes things, he feels like, as now he finds himself paying close attention to the whole thing, not being able to help the warmth that grows in his chest all the way to the tip of his nose as he feels his eyes getting glossier at every word being spoken. By the time the vows come up, the intimate declamations of love being spoken in teary voices and shaky hands, he gives up on trying to brush away the tears that tickle their way down his cheeks.

Once the newlywed couple strut their way back the aisle, rings now hugging their fingers and paired smiles stretching their cheeks, Harry’s managed to control his emotions to some degree. When they pass through him, just before disappearing inside the building hand in hand, the groom, Michael, meets his gaze, throwing his hand up in a wave-like gesture. Harry wonders for a second if he’d recognized his face amongst the certain euphoric feeling he’s in right now, or if it was just a blind gesture that he barely registered before disappearing inside the double doors. Regardless, he still brings his finger to his mouth to let out a sharp whistle in felicitation.

The second they’re out the door, everyone starts moving, and that’s when Harry realizes his seat also allows him to be the first out the door. Following the crowd that makes their way back into the building, it comes to him that he never really got the chance to find a toilet so he could check the damage left by the rain-- and he’s sure his emotional state throughout the last hour or so did very little to help him in that department.

So he keeps an eye out as he steps inside the same hallway he came from, this time being directed to an open door by the left that leads him to a staircase. His boots click against the marble steps as Harry climbs up along with the rest of the guests that make their way towards the reception, a light chatter taking over the building as the talk amongst themselves. All the doors along the way are closed, all except the one at the very front of the stairs as he reaches the third floor.

Harry looks around as he waits for the elderly couple in front of him to finish talking with the lady that’s standing in front of the open doors. All the rest of the floor is shut tight, and none of the double white painted doors really seem like they would lead to a bathroom. Soon enough, though, he’s being greeted by the receptionist of sorts.

Like the one when he first walked into the building, she also holds a clipboard close to her arm, and, with her hair being pulled up in a tight ponytail, he catches sight of a matching earpiece poking at the side of her face. He gives her his names and, once she starts directing him to his designated seat, he finds himself scanning the room for what he’s been looking for. He’s not planning on staying long enough to need to know which table he’s in, anyway, only wanting to express his felicitations to the couple before rushing back to his warm covers that call for his name.

“I’m sorry, which way is the toilet?” He interrupts the lady, who only raises her brows for a moment before shooting him a polite smile, gesturing to a set of doors not too far from where he stands. “Thank you.”

Upon entering further inside he notices, the space is much smaller than the courtyard. The room takes an ‘L’ shape, the turn of the place being a small platform to which he assumes must be the dance floor, considering the few musicians tucked in the far corner. Thanks to its shape the place is as narrow as it is long, not giving him much space to walk between the perfectly set tables. Harry doesn’t dwell on it too much, though, only rushing towards where he was directed, and quickly locking himself inside where it's indicated to be the men’s room.

Turning to the circular mirror to his side, Harry takes in his appearance with a sharp inhale. It’s not too bad, he thinks, more or less what he was expecting to find. His tearful state earlier has definitely enhanced the puffiness in his eyes that are still slightly glossy. There’s a reddish tone to his cheeks and at the tip of his nose, light circles under his eyes displaying his poor sleep schedule. He looks like someone who’s still recovering from a cold, if he’s honest. Which was to be expected. His hair, however, took most of the damage of the rain. What once were his neatly locks curling around his jawline, now sits a frizzy nest of strands tangled on each other.

It’s still damp when he runs his fingers through it, trying to undo the knots he finds on the way but, somehow he only makes it worse. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head at his reflection as he lets out a chuckle, thinking of a Friends reference.

He sighs in frustration at the stubborn mop of his hair refusing to stay in place, surrendering to its rebellion as he fetches the hair tie wrapped around his wrist. Maybe he should’ve just listened to his mum’s wishes and just cut it all out when he had the chance, it surely would’ve saved him the embarrassment of walking around a wedding reception with a fucking man bun. But Harry is as stubborn as he is proud, sticking to his statement of allowing his curls to run wild down his neck. So he might just have to suck it up to his knock off hipster image for the night, at least he’ll probably won’t see these people again until the next baby shower, he figures.

What Harry doesn’t expect as he walks out the foamy white restroom after his inner head monologue was to be met with the one person he was not expecting to encounter in a million years. Standing just a few steps away from him, hair neatly wrapped on top of your head, body clad in a pearly green cocktail dress, the top crossing tightly around your chest and its skirt drapes beautifully down your body. It’s Dior, Harry recognizes, and on any other occasion he would’ve been too transfixed on the piece to even notice the person sporting it. But not right now, no, there’s not a chance that the hiccup on his heartbeat and the sweat on his palms are due to the article of clothing.

He freezes on his spot, his eyes shutting tightly for a moment, hoping that when he opens up it’s all just a fragment of his -- very vivid -- imagination. Perhaps he’s falling ill again, and his fever is acting up, creating mirages to trick his mind. But as he opens his eyes that possibility seems to dissolve as quickly as it was created, and Harry’s convinced that this must be some twisted sick joke the universe is pulling on him. Not satisfied on making him walk in the rain after breaking his friend’s tacky umbrella, or having him attend a wedding reception with a fucking manbun of all things as well as a face that’s most likely resembling a dried apple. No, that didn’t seem to be enough of a punishment for him. Because on top of it all, here you are, standing just a few steps away from him, this time not through a screen of a printed paper but in flesh and bone.

It takes him a second to realize he’s been frozen on his spot for quite a while now, and as panic starts to zip through every cell of his body his gaze flickers around the room. He’s not sure what he’s looking for exactly, just trying to find a way out. But how, when he’s not even sure where he’s supposed to sit? His eyes find the lady that greeted him at the entrance and he cusses himself for not paying attention to her instructions during his rush, because now she’s standing on the other side of the room speaking with the musicians and there’s no way he can reach her without bumping into you first.

Why does this place have to be so fucking small?

His foot stops midstep, almost too afraid to move and catch your attention. Frowning to himself, Harry  He dares to look in your direction again. You’re turned towards him, but thankfully you’re too caught up in your conversation with a blonde lady, nodding along to whatever it is that she’s saying, that you don’t catch the way he lets his eyes linger in you for a beat too long.

Long enough that you undoubtedly feel the weight of his eyes on you as your gaze meets his, and Harry’s sure he could dig a hole for himself right through this perfectly waxed lightwood floor. But he can’t because you’re looking at him. You’re looking at him and your eyes widen just slightly with recognition, mouth agape as your lips form the shape of his name, your voice standing out amongst the mixture of others chatting around the room.

The girl talking to you turns around as she realizes your focus has gone elsewhere. Melanie. He remembers her from his chem class -- she dropped a whole beaker of hydrogen peroxide on her arm and had a skin burn, her round face is still the same but now she’s a blonde. He barely pays any attention to her, however, letting his eyes bounce back to yours just as quickly as they left, only to find you’re already making your way towards him.

“Harry?” You say again, this time he hears it loud and clear as you get closer, the sound of your voice saying his name again causing an electric spark to shoot down his spine. You stop just before him, as if you’re also unsure on how to properly greet him.

His lips part, taking a sharp breath as he tries to learn how to speak all over again, “H-hi.”

“Hi.” Your smile grows. “I didn’t know you’d be here, didn’t see you at the ceremony.”

“Yeah I-- I got rained on.” He lets out a nervous laugh, hand coming up instinctively to run through his hair but he stops it midair as he realizes his locks are tied back. Clearing his throat he speaks up in an attempt to cover the awkward gesture, “I mean, didn’t know you’d be here as well, you know? Figured you’d be busy and stuff.” He wants to punch himself.

“I made it just fine.” You throw him a playful wink, shooting a look over your shoulder to where Melanie now stands talking to someone else, her eyes still stealing a few curious glances in your direction. “Where are you seated? Figure it can’t be that far from where they seated me.”

“Uhm… To be honest, I’m not quite sure.” His eyes scan the room for a second before meeting yours again. “Was in a bit of a rush when I walked in, actually.”

You laugh, “Well that’s perfect, then, you can just sit with us!” You motion back to the table where you came from. “I’m sure you remember everyone from back in the day.”

“Sounds nice, yeah.” He looks back to where you’re pointing, trying to spot any other familiar face.

“Great! C’mon I’ll get you some champagne.” You catch him by surprise as you lock your arm around his, leading the short way towards the table.

True to your word, you hand him a flute of champagne just a beat after directing him to a seat that seems to be right next to yours. He doesn’t miss the way you’re able to do so with a simple smile shot towards one of the caterers, making him find his way to you in barely a second, handing you another flute without even questioning the fact that you already have one in your hand. Harry doesn’t really blame him, a smile from you would be enough to have him rushing to you, too.

As he figured, you take the seat right next to his, raising your glass briefly in a cheers with him before both of you relax back into your seats. The table is entirely decorated in different shades of white and gold, as well as the rest of the space. Honey orange plates are set in front of each of the seven seats, their tone matching perfectly the color of the fancy patterned curtains around the room that block the outside view. A full bouquet of flowers is set at the center, pale pink roses contrasting with bright red dahlias as they bloom proudly amongst the green leaves. Two other empty glasses are set in front of him, they shimmer under the light coming from two high-hanged chandeliers that illuminate the room, and Harry wonders what they could be for, as their shapes differ only so slightly from each other.

His thoughts are cut shortly as the empty seats quickly begin to fill, and he notices how your attention has gone back to Melanie who now takes the chair on your other side. She seems to have taken a liking to having your attention on herself, Harry notes. Soon enough, though, his own focus is called elsewhere, once he’s greeted by the other people that have taken the rest of the seats. You were right when you told him he’d recognize most of them, and Harry’s thankful that it mostly consists of people he actually used to be relatively close to back on his school days (not close enough to have survived the graduation mark, but still, most of them he still follows on a couple social media platforms, getting sporadic updates on their lives).

Jamie is the first of them to arrive, who takes the chair right next to Harry’s, startling him with a strong grip on his shoulder. “Styles?” His voice chirps in the air, and as recognition comes to him, Harry gets up, greeting him as he’s pulled in a side hug. “Almost didn’t recognize you, mate, are you wearing heels?” The man jokes at the clear height difference between them, earning a polite laugh from Harry.

“Kind of, actually.” He looks down at his foot as he bends his ankle, showing off the black leather boot that has a bit of a heel to it.

“Oh, there he is! Always the stylish one, it’s in the name, innit?” Harry huffs out a chuckle. “With the hair too, right? Heard those buns work wonders with the ladies.” The shorter man motions to Harry’s hair, giving him a playful shove as he laughs, looking back to catch the gaze of a woman that’s standing behind him. She gives Jamie a tight smile and a raise of brows, her eyes flickering from him to Harry. His laugh hauters, arm reaching back to grasp her waist,  “Yeah, yeah, H, this is my wife, Faye.”

At the mention of his spouse, Harry’s brows shoot toward his hairline for a second, lips parting before quickly recovering his shocked expression as he leans to greet her. It’s not that he’s surprised that Jamie has gotten himself a wife, somehow (well, a bit of that too) but it always comes like a bit of a jolt to find people his age settling with their life partner. Part of the shock comes mostly to Harry as he thinks back to himself, and he can’t help the comparison that comes as he’s never found himself nearly close to having someone so dearly close to his heart that he can think of such commitment.Well, he had you. But people always talk about how puppy love is usually supposed to be like that anyway. That first love, in which you’re still taking baby steps with the new found feeling of sharing your heart with someone else. The one when you’re too young to really know anything.

Harry still cherishes that feeling, which can also explain the effect you hold on him. But there’s something in him that wonders if he’ll ever have what he saw on Michael’s eyes when they locked gazes at the end of the ceremony. The bliss that comes with the knowledge that you don’t have to take those baby steps anymore. You don’t have to hold on to them in fear of what path they’ll take. If they’ll decide that where they need to go is no longer next to yours. He wonders what it feels like to learn that love doesn’t come with dread, and watching people around him find that so easily, it comes to him that maybe he’s the one doing something wrong.

It doesn’t really help that, after Jamie and Faye have settled in their seats, all the others that follow after come with similar introductions. Harry never expected coming here that he’d hear the words “fiancée” and “wife” being thrown around so often, and, quickly, he comes to the realization that he is the only one without a date.

As much as those thoughts keep bothering him, they become dulled as time starts going by and he nurses his second flute of champagne. The conversations that make their way to the table mostly consist of the recollection of times when each other’s faces felt like more than just a “used to be”. They make rounds with digging up old inside jokes, and Harry finds himself stealing glances in your direction more often than he’d like. He tries not to, of course, but you seem to be the only place his eyes want to travel to. With your voice so close to him, more than he ever thought it would be again, it’s like someone’s lighting a candle at the deep of his chest (those nice vanilla ones you used to have in your room, giving the whole place a scent that still sticks to him as yours to this day). It’s nearly scary to him, how easily he falls again to the sound of your laugh.

His nose scrunches in a laugh at a joke Chris blurts out from the other side of the table about their old math teacher the moment there’s a tap in the microphone that echoes through the walls of the small space. A woman stands in the far side of the room, standing on a small platform that was settled for the musicians. She’s the same one that greeted him at the entrance, her hair now pulled up in a tight bun exposing a thin layer of sweat on her forehead that shimmers under the lighting directly above her.

“Good evening, everyone.” Her voice chirps a bit too loud and she throws a look over her shoulder to a man standing next to a speaker, before testing a word again to see it come out now in a more composed tone.

She proceeds to go into a short speech that Harry, in all honesty, zooms out for a great part of it. His body has twisted on his seat to have a better look at the center of the room where she speaks into the mic, but as a result of that, he’s now facing you. From this angle, he has a better look at the side of your face, as you find yourself turned in your seat in order to look at the woman as well. Your makeup is light and most of it falls into a natural tone, and Harry wonders if you’ve made any effort at all into looking this beautiful.

The familiarity of your features tugs at his heartstrings, you’ve grown into them over the years, the lines in your face having matured with time. Still, he can pinpoint reminders of when he last got to gaze at you this closely. A scar just below your eyebrow, now faded, but still very much present, from when your sister scratched you with a branch at the first barbecue he attended at your family’s home. A few beauty marks painting your skin, that he used to press his lips or trace his finger over as if connecting them. Even the tiny golden ball poking through your second ear hole that he held your hand through when you got it pierced, afraid it would hurt too bad. Those details he thought he’d all but forgotten about, now staring right back at him.

Once again, it’s like he’s lost track of how long he’s been looking at you, and surely you can feel him watching, as you turn your head to meet his gaze. Harry blinks a few times, lips parting as he realizes he just got caught staring. There’s barely enough time for him to try and avert his eyes to pretend nothing ever happened, however, as your lips twitch in a gentle smile. The action causes a matching one to poke on his face almost immediately, a reaction Harry himself barely has time to register, a warmth deepening along with his dimples on his cheeks. You let out a slight laugh, bringing the brim of your glass up to your lips before gazing back over your shoulder at the lady that now seems to be wrapping up her speech.

“And with that being said, it’s now an honor to introduce for the first time, mister and missus Michael and Elise Browne!” She gestures to the entrance at the couple that appears through the doors, smiles still stretching their faces as they make their way to the far end of the room where there’s a space reserved for the dance floor.

With everyone’s attention being called towards the two newlyweds, Harry lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Biting into his lip he claps along with the rest of the guests, trying to relax his shoulders to ease the nerves that still tickle deep in his stomach.

Quickly, though, the atmosphere of the place turns into more of a cheerful one.

After the couple’s first dance (which, this time, Harry has to blink away the tears that threaten to spill, knowing he’s much  more exposed to someone’s wandering eyes here) there’s a round of short speeches, mostly thanking everyone’s presence, before they start to serve dinner.

During most of the course, however, it’s like you’ve become the main attraction of the table. And it’s not that Harry’s surprised by it, even before you’ve gotten this big in your career, you’ve always held this magnetic aura within you. Something about you draws people’s attention, and you’re good at holding it to you. It’s not something you do consciously, he knows, but as soon as you’re in a room no one else holds a chance at stealing the spotlight.

It’s always been like this, even all those years ago. But now it’s like it’s intensified by tenfold. Harry doesn’t know how you manage to split your attention into so many conversations, and still remain your charming demeanour after hearing the same celebrity joke for the third time in a row. You don’t seem bothered by the amount of questions thrown your way (and he’s sure this is probably the most amount of times he’s heard Beyonce being mentioned in a conversation), in fact, he’s sure you’ve grown more than used to it by now.

Harry, on the other hand, is the one that grows slightly annoyed with time passing. Oddly enough, from the moment he sat next to you, something in him urged to be alone with you. He wants to be the one to hold your attention, your full attention. He wants to talk to you, to really have an actual conversation with you-- none of those ‘what does Adele smells like’ type of questions.

It took him seeing you again to make him realize, he’s missed you.

The chance presents itself, though, just as the empty plates for the main dish get collected by the caterers. Chris mentions something about one of Jamie’s school flings, causing a tension as his wife -Faye- storms out of the table with the man following close behind after shooting a dirty look towards his old friend. Melanie, who had been the main one to be on your shoulder throughout the night, excuses herself to the toilet right after. And, as soon as she’s out of her seat, Harry sees you let out a sigh, reaching for your wine glass before you turn to him for the first time in the night.

“I love your suit, by the way!” You exclaim, eyes moving down his jacket briefly. “Never seen anything like it.”

Harry clears his throat, feeling a heat raise at the back of his neck now that your focus is entirely on him. The suit in question, the same one that got an odd look from the lady at the front door, is actually one he’d firstly tailored on his first year of uni. It’s mostly made with a royal blue fabric, except the lapels that take the same material, but in a deep blood tone (initially, his first plan was to make the entire suit in this tone, but as he realized he barely had enough fabric of the same shade to finish the jacket, he settled on using it only as a detail on the lapels and at the bend of his elbows and knees). His favorite part of it, though, was actually added semi recently. Lisa had ordered some flower detailing to sew to Belle’s dress, but the girl in charge of it embroidered them a shade too dark and, before she got the chance to throw the work away, Harry asked to have them. Now, they’re bound to the lapels of his jacket, twin garden roses on each side, their blooming petals matching beautifully with the darker tone of the fabric. From the moment he added them on, he was in love with it, and now he’s even more glad he did so, because it also caught your attention.

“Thanks, I-” He looks down at his attire, as if he hasn’t seen it a million times before, scratching his nose with the side of his finger as his voice comes out lower than he intended, a shy smile taking over his face. “I designed it myself, actually.”

“Oh my god!” You gasp as the realization hits you. “Really? Wait how-- I mean, I didn’t-- Well, it looks incredible!”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t know you…” You trail off, motioning vaguely down at his attire.

“Uhm, yeah.” He breathes out a laugh, rubbing his nose with the side of his finger in a nervous tick. “I dropped out of art school, actually, to get into fashion.”

Your eyes widen just slightly, blinking back at him a couple times, lips parting. “How did I not know that?” You ask in a mumble, seemingly more to yourself than to him.

“It was just uhm…” Harry looks down at his lap, not knowing how to finish the sentence without making it awkward. “It was right after we…”

“Oh.”

He clicks his tongue. “Yeah…”

“You must be almost done, right?” You change the subject as you bring the brim of your glass up to your lips, barely taking a sip before adding, “With your degree, I mean.”

Harry nods. “Got a year left, yeah.”

You take a full sip of your wine, setting it back to its place on the table before leaning to rest your elbow on top of it so it can support your cheek as you lean forward, turning your body so to show how he has your full attention. “And how’s that going? Do you have any idea of the path you want to take? I know fashion has so many possibilities, it must be exciting.”

“It is.” He nods just as a certerer comes to settle the deserts in front of each of you. After muttering a quick ‘thank you’, he continues, “I had some internships last year, actually. Worked with a couple designers in London, it was pretty cool.”

“That’s sick.” Your eyes still haven’t left him. “Any names I might recognize?”

He uses his fork to play around with a strawberry, focusing on the way it falls from the small piece of tart painted with white ganache, using it as a silent excuse to himself as to not meet your eyes. Truth to be told, it’s a rather strange feeling to him, having someone’s full attention like this, being asked about his life with a genuine curiosity behind your words. Harry’s used to being backstage, is what most of his career choice consists of, anyway. He stays behind the stage lights, doing the work no one cares for when they see the final product; even when working on runway pieces, people weren’t thinking of whoever did the stitching of the tule or the embroidery over the bustier. But the way you’re watching him, eyes glimmering under the warm lights, it’s the closest he’s felt to being thrown under the spotlight.

Which could explain why he feels this nervous.

“Maybe, yeah, I was with Christopher Kane for a semester.” He lowers his voice without meaning to, a rush of shyness tinting his face. “Also worked on a campaign with Molly Goddard.”

“Holy shit, Harry, that’s, like, huge!” You gasp, hand coming to hold onto his shoulder, pushing him back gently as to bring his eyes to meet yours. It’s sweet, really, how you most likely have accomplishments much bigger than he could ever dream of achieving, still, your smile grows as if it’s the most impressive thing you’ve ever heard. It brings a small giggle to escape from his lips. Letting your hand fall from his shoulder, you relax back into your seat. “One of my favorite dresses is Christopher Kane, he works with his sister, right?”

“They’re both creative directors, yeah.”

“I love their work.” You say, a smile still present and he hopes it never fades. “Are you doing any other intership right now?

“Yeah…” He starts. “I’m working right now, actually, doing some costume design for theatre.”

“Really? Now that’s an interesting path.” You point, fingers fiddling with the hem of the tablecloth. “Where are you working?”

“Uhm…” He knew this question was coming, still, he’s not sure how to present you with the information. His voice lowers, eyes falling to his lap before he looks up at you through his lashes. “Act One.”

He hears your hand fall to your lap, eyes widening just barely before you let out a chuckle, “You’re taking the piss.”

“I’m afraid I’m not.”

“Act One?” Your lips part in disbelief.  “With my mum?”

The thing is, Harry was only aware about Act One opening a London unit when he saw the job advertisement stuck to the wall of his university’s building about five months ago. He recognized the name, of course, knowing your mother worked as the music director while you two were together, and also knowing you had been part of a fair amount of productions before your career started growing as it is now (having even attended a handful of them himself, back in the day). What he didn’t know was that your family moved to London with the company and that your mother was still part of the crew when he joined for the spring production. So, the news came with a surprise to him as much as it is to you.

He thought maybe she would have mentioned it to you-- and maybe she has and you just brushed past the information, not caring much for it. But the way your face is still hung in shock, blinking at him as you try to process what he just told you, he figures that’s not the case.

“The same one, yeah.”

“I can’t believe it!” You reach for your glass, twirling it in your hand to watch the dark liquid swirl inside, still shaking your head slightly. “She never- She never…”

“To be fair, I don’t see her that often.” He tries to reason, and it’s true, they work in two different spaces. “I’m usually at the atelier.”

“Still, that’s…”

“Can I have everyone’s attention for a moment, please?” Someone cuts you off before you can even process how to finish the sentence you started. Everyone’s attention is called back to the makeshift stage, to a woman with the mic in her hand-- she’s in one of the bridesmaid’s navy blue gown, holding up a flute of champagne on her free hand. Once all eyes are on her, she continues. “For those who don’t know me, my name’s Lara, the bride’s best friend...”

The rounds of speeches start with her, then. Halfway through her second childhood story, that you’re only paying half mind to, you realize your mouth’s still parted in shock from your conversation with Harry. You try to subtly cover it, taking a sip of your wine, before you let yourself zoom out completely for the rest of the toasts.

How come he’s been working with your mum for months now, and you’ve only now become aware of it? It’s what keeps bugging you. The possibility of her mentioning the fact comes to you, but you brush it off as quickly as you think of it. You surely would’ve remembered it. There haven't been many mentions of Harry’s name since your breakup, really, and those become less frequent as the years go by. But you hold on to each one of them, trying to grasp the smallest piece of information about his life as you can.

Truth to be told, you’ve missed him. Before you started a relationship, he had been the closest friend you had. And the fact that the worst possible scenario of turning a friendship into something more came true tore you apart.

After you distanced from each other there was very little contact. Your mother would mention every few months something about him moving out how his family had adopted a new kitten. Those informations were received by you with single word answers or a simple nod, even though on the inside you were desperate to ask for more. Harry’s never really been very in touch with social media, so those updates from your mum were pretty much all the glimpse you had on his life without you.

That is, until they all moved two years ago. Then those small comments stopped all together.

So you tried to turn your mind off of it. Off of him. But every now and then something would happen. You’d listen to a song that you used to dance to in his bedroom, or you’d find one of his necklaces lost deep in your drawer and it would all go back to him. How was he doing? Where has his life gone? Who is he friends with? Who’s loving him?

The only time you ever vocalized those thoughts was once during a wine night with Aya. People often compliment you on how good you are with your words, but every time they do, you can’t help but think they’ve probably never got the chance to meet her. She was the first person to reassure you how normal it is to hang on to an old feeling. Harry was your first love, after all, and he’d always hold a place in your heart, no matter how hard you try to mask it.

After that, you stopped trying to bury something that was so valuable to you.

And living in harmony with your feelings, old and new, is something that you found to be so tranquil. Or, well, at least you were able to say that once.

Still, the conversation with Harry only helped to enhance that curiosity that used to consume you. It was a short one-- due to the circumstances you’re in, you can’t really catch a break to have much of a profound chat; but it still was enough for you to realize how little you know of him. There are still many cues that showed you that he’s still the Harry you once knew with the fullness of your heart. His quiet demeanor, and the shy smile that stretches his lips when the attention is on him. His dimples that you used to poke and kiss just to feel them deepen under your touch. His eyes that you always could get lost in every shade they take.

Those traces that make you want to explore each new one that you don’t know about anymore. The curls in his head, that even being pushed back in a bun, you can still tell are much longer than the last time you ran our finger through them. The tattoos that peak under the sleeve of his jacket, and you can’t help but wonder how many more are hidden under the material. The rings hugging his fingers or the necklaces set on his chest. There’s so much you want to ask him about.

And the next time you get the chance to do that is hours later.

The party is starting to feel like it could die out at any moment, when the children have fallen asleep on the armchairs and the early risers start to bid their goodbyes. There’s still a fair amount of people stumbling their way on the dance floor and making the last few rounds on the free cocktails that are being served. Your table is still pretty much filled, except for Chris that got his way around with one of the bridesmaids, which is why you haven’t managed to catch another time to be alone with Harry.

Throughout the night, as the alcohol started to make its way on people’s bloodstreams, you’ve probably been approached by every person within your age group. And, as much as you’ve gotten used to being the main attraction of those types of gatherings, being thrown around and pointed at like an animal in a cage. At this stage in your career, you know you have to suck it up and smile through it. But this night in particular, you find it especially hard not to roll your eyes in annoyance or let out a frustrated sigh when someone interrupts your eighth attempt at trying to talk to Harry.

But your freedom comes when Melanie -fucking Melanie- finally announces she and her boyfriend (Dan, Dave, Don - something like that) are calling it a night. And when she leaves, it’s just you and him.

You glance over your shoulder, making sure no one’s making their way towards you, but, thankfully, everyone else is pretty occupied with the karaoke machine that was introduced an hour ago.

“I’m sneaking out for a smoke.” You reach for your clutch, eyes hopeful as you glance back at Harry. “Wanna come with?”

To your relief, he nods. “Sure.”

You guide him towards a door you had peeked at when you were taking pictures with the bride’s family.

Just like you’d reckoned, it leads to a terrace of sorts, looking out into the courtyard where the ceremony was held from above the glass ceiling. You shoot Harry a short smile as he holds the door open for you, following just behind into the breezy night.

The sky is clear, the way it is after a rainfall, but a few clouds indicate that it might not be just done yet. The first whisk of wind makes you regret not bringing your coat, but you quickly brush away the idea of going back inside, afraid someone might notice you sneaking out a second time. So you two settle in a place right by the railing, turning to the party so you can relax back into the metal.

Reaching inside your clutch, you retrieve a package of cigarettes, pulling one out before offering it to Harry, who shakes his head in a  quick decline. You hold it between your lips as you grab a small lighter that it’s almost lost inside the tiny purse. There’s still a gust of wind dancing around the air, a chill that comes with the aftermath of rainfall. You find it nice, though, the way it brings goosebumps to rise on your skin. It’s a nice balance with the warmth of the flame as you flicker the lighter awake, bringing the flame to the butt of the cigarette that’s propped between your lips. You inhale the smoke, holding it for a moment as you appreciate the peace and quiet of the night, something you haven’t had in a while now.

For a while, both of you just stay quiet, enjoying the other’s presence.

It’s almost funny to you, how people compare meeting again with someone from your past, especially an ex, to seeing a ghost. Because right now, spending this night with Harry after years of being apart, you feel like that couldn’t be further away from the truth. Being in his presence again is everything but haunting. Feels like how it is to go back to your hometown, to walk the streets you memorized growing up, knowing you still know your way around them by heart. Like seeing the places you would go to when you were younger change over time, but still never quite lose the nostalgic feeling they’ve always held. Something that time is not powerful enough to change. The feeling of coming home.

Being with Harry is like that. Still the same, but different.

Harry speaks up first, he could’ve startled you if his voice hadn’t come out as soft as the brush of the wind against the tree branches a couple floors down from where you stand. Nearly shy, as he says it while gazing down at his boots, “Congratulations on your Grammy, by the way.”

“Did you know?” You ask, genuinely surprised.

He’s the only person that hasn’t brought up the elephant you bring to the room every time you walk in a gathering like this. A shadow of your status that people glaze at before even attempting on making a normal conversation. You knew it was coming sooner or later, and you appreciate the fact that he chose the latter.

Somehow, you had convinced yourself that maybe he hadn’t cared about you enough to know anything about your career throughout the years, especially knowing how much he had going on for himself. So to have him mention it, to congratulate you on top of it all, comes as a bit of a shock.

Harry seems oblivious of your surprise, however, as his words come out nearing a nonchalant tone. “Of course, hard not to.”

“Were you…” You start, suddenly feeling oddly shy about the prospect of him knowing this information about you. You wonder what else he knows about, what kind of assumptions he’s made about the person you’ve become. “Were you watching it?”

He nods, looking up at you. “I was, yeah.”

Your chest warms at his confession and it almost unsettles you how he’s got you flustered so easily. Usually, if it were anyone else, you wouldn’t hold back a snarky reply, knowing most people wouldn’t bat an eye before showering with compliments.

You blink at yourself with this thought, hating how truthful it is.

But with Harry there’s something in you that wants to impress him, to show him you still have the girl that he knew so well still somewhere inside of you. It makes you want to question him, desperate to know his impressions of this life you portray for the public. But you hold back, almost scared of the answer you could receive. So instead, you simply offer a vague response,  “Seems like so long ago.” You let out a dry laugh. “It’s been barely three months.”

He offers you a small grin. “‘S what they say, time rushes by when you’re having fun, and all that?”

“I guess that’s it, yeah.”

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to tell him the truth. Tell him how miserable you felt throughout most of that day. That you weren’t having fun at all, in fact, you were so preoccupied over the fact that you were supposed to be having the best night of your life that it only made your nerves swallow you in an avalanche. You want to tell him why that entire week was close to miserable, fuck, that entire month, actually. You wish you could cry on his shoulder about all you’ve been bottling up inside of you. You want to open up to him in a way you haven’t opened up to anyone.

You shake your head. What is wrong with you?

You have to remind yourself you barely know him anymore. This is the first time you’ve spoken in years and your first instinct is to throw all your baggage on him. To scare him away before you even get the chance to let a word out.

Instead of letting your big mouth say more than you’d be willing to share, you try to lighten up, thinking of the one part of that night that you actually enjoyed yourself, “I chipped my tooth with it, you know.”

“What?”

“The Grammy.” You reply, taking a short drag of the cigarette as you ponder how much information you want to pour on him of that night. “Chipped my tooth. I was jumping on the bed with it.” He chuckles, causing a loose strand to curl against his forehead. You want to brush it off, folding your arm under your elbow as you avert your eyes from his. “God, that night feels like a blur now. I think I pretty much convinced myself I dreamed a good portion of it.”  

You let out a chuckle, watching the way the smoke blends with the air. Harry doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes looking at you from the corner of your vision. You meet his gaze, sensing a silent question from his jade irises, as if they’re waiting for you to keep talking.

“It just-- I don’t know, took a while to click, you know? To realize what had happened.” You elaborate, looking down at the skirt of your dress dancing along with the breeze as you grin to yourself at the memory. “ I got home that night, downed half an old bottle of whiskey that I found in my cellar.”

Harry’s brows shoot up, his voice coming with the verge of a teasing tone. “A cellar?”

“Shit, uh-- yeah it kinda-- I don’t know, came with the house.” There’s the warmth again, you feel it at the tip of your nose and you almost want to facepalm yourself for the slipup. “But yeah, after the ceremony, I went home by myself and just… Well, got drunk.”

“That’s understandable.” He giggles, and the sound makes you glance up at him again. “So you jumped in your bed with it?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much how the story ends.” You click your tongue, giving him an exaggerated nod that turns into a shake. “Was so gone I didn’t even notice I chipped my tooth until I woke up a few hours later.”

He lets out a full laugh now, his eyes squinting and you can’t help but join him. “Sounds like you had fun.”

“Uhm.., I did, yeah.”

Harry falls silent, his smile toning down slowly. He puckers his lips, as if pondering what to say next. When he does speak, his words are slow, “How is it to like…” His words trail off, and you have to bite back a smile when he starts gesturing, remembering how he used to do that before. “I mean, talking to you now, even with this whole fame thing, you’re still so… Shit, I don’t want this to come off the wrong way.”

“It’s fine.” You let your cigarette fall to the floor before crashing it with your boot, the only reason you lit it was to have an excuse to leave the party with him. “Can guarantee you I had worse questions asked.”

“It’s just you’re still so… Well I wouldn’t say the same cause none of us really are the same person we were, like, five years ago.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “But you’re still so… grounded, I guess is the best word to describe it.”

You allow a grin to tuck at your lips, hoping he doesn’t sense the sincere apprehension that comes with your tease. “Were you expecting me to be a stuck up diva, is that it?”

His eyes bulge out. “No! No, of course not! Is just-- I think, well, most people think...And it’s not a you thing but more of a, I don’t know, celebrity thing? Fuck, I really dug myself a hole, haven’t I?”

“Harry, relax. I was just teasing.” You interrupt as he starts to ramble. “But I know what you mean, yeah.”

You ponder his question for a moment. The answer for it being far from a simple one, but, once again, the last thing you want is to overwhelm him with your problems. So you choose your words carefully, chewing at your bottom lip as you feel him watching you patiently.

“It’s not easy, I’ll tell you that.” You start, you voice slowing to an almost cautious tone. “I had… Worse times dealing with it, you know? I…”

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s fine, I trust you.” The words leave your mouth before you can register. You try not to show your surprise at them, and you do a better job than Harry, who audibly holds a breath. “Having so many people loving you, being praised for everything you do… It’s easy to let it go to your head, and I can’t say I’ve always been the best at managing it, but--” You regret your next words before you can even stop them from spilling from your lips. “I had a breakup a couple months ago that was uhm… A bit hard, but looking back at it I feel like it was like a bucket of cold water, in that sense.”

His eyes soften, and you have to look away because the last thing you want is to catch his reaction. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be! Really, I’m fine-- I’ll be fine.” You reassure quickly, shaking your head in hopes to shake the subject away.

It seems to work, as silence takes over the space once again, and both your eyes glance towards the party mindlessly.

You two watch Jamie appear in front of the glass doors leading to where you stand. He has his back to you, and from what you see it’s like he’s trying to pull Faye in the direction of the dance floor. She has a frown adorning her face, not giving into her husband’s attempt on pulling her with him. It’s clear, even from where you are, that he’s far off his mind now, his hips swaying with the muffled sounds of an attempt of a Céline Dion cover, still persisting even though it’s clear his wife wants nothing to do with his drunken ideas.

Faye gently pushes his hands away with a roll of her eyes, causing him to give a couple steps back, walking backwards into a chair before crumbling down with it. Neither of you can contain your laughs at the scene, even when you bring your hand up to muffle the sound, it’s too late. Jamie’s eyes look up from where he lies on the floor, catching sight of the two of you, he mumbles something you don’t understand, gesturing for you to come inside. You answer it with a small wave, and, thankfully, his attention is brought to his wife as she tries to help him stand.

You exhale a small laugh, moving so you’re no longer leaning back into the railing. “I think this is my cue to go before they try to convince me to try out that karaoke machine.”

“Yeah, I told myself I’d be out right after the toasts.”

You stop, pondering for a moment before looking back at him. “How are you going home?”

“I took the tube here.”

“Let me drive you back.”

“You don’t have--”

“It’s fine! I--” You pause, chewing down your bottom lip as you glance around him, feeling oddly embarrassed.  “I got a driver waiting for me, you can just tell him your address, won’t be a problem to drop you off.”

He hesitates, waiting a beat before nodding. “If it’s not a bother.”

“It’s not.” You say a bit too quickly. “I’m suggesting it, after all.”

“Okay, then.”

//

As soon as you dropped Harry home, when the sky was awaking lazily with an orange bloom of dawn, he started to wonder if the entire night had even been real. By the time he woke up, just a couple hours later, he was sure it had been a spur of his imagination. He must’ve fallen asleep while getting dressed, yeah, that must’ve been it, he got ready and decided to lay down for a bit, which led him to fall asleep and dream of the whole thing.

That night feels like a blur now. I think I pretty much convinced myself I dreamed a good portion of it.

You said that to him. But how convenient is it, that describes perfectly how he feels about that night? Of course, you were talking about the night you won your first Grammy, and he’s merely thinking about how it was to meet you again. The two reasons for each of you to feel this way are so polar apart, Harry can’t help but feel like it translates well into the time in your lives you two are in. After all, you’re out there winning prestigious awards, wearing Dior to go out for groceries (do you even go out for your own groceries?), and having a whole cellar in your house, for christ's sake. Meanwhile, Harry’s still a full year away from getting his degree, wearing the same mismatched vans as a fashion statement, and having cheap bottles of wine tucked in the back of his creaky wooden cabinet.

It’s not that he hates the life he has, of course not. But it’s clear to him how distant you are from each other, even when he got the closest he had been to you in years.

So it doesn’t come as a surprise to him when he doesn’t hear from you for the next couple days. It’s what was expected, even. It doesn’t take away the fact that he’s a bit disappointed, though, but there’s no one else to blame for that but himself. What did he expect? That after spending one night together after five years you’d suddenly get close again as if nothing happened?

But it’s not his fault that he’s hopeful, not when you’d been so friendly that night, seeming so eager to catch up with him. So, yeah, you can’t really blame him for the hiccup on his heart every time he phone vibrated-- only to be left with a frustrated crease marking his features and a slight pout.

The day after was the worst one. It was a Sunday, after all, and Julia had left early in the morning to spend the week at Blake’s, which meant Harry had spent the entire day alone, dwelling on his confusion about what had been the night prior. He almost felt a bit stupid about how sure he had been that you’d text him, as that was the reason for you to exchange phone number with him, wasn’t it? As hours went by, however, and the loneliness of the tiny apartment got louder than the Friends’ rerun he was binging, he started to question it.

Maybe he got too nosy, asking too much about something you clearly weren’t comfortable answering. Maybe his question had offended you, and that’s why you wanted to leave early. Maybe you only gave him your number to be polite. Maybe that’s not even your actual phone number, he reckons, how many do you probably have?

He slept with the telly on that night, trying to muffle the maybes that kept nagging him.

It got better once the week started. Between classes and work, he barely had enough time to let his thoughts wander off. He was still going back to an empty home, but this time he brought back work with him. As a result of his late night on the weekend, Harry’s sleep schedule got completely spoiled. So he resorts into spending the wee hours of the morning perfecting a detailing he wasn’t all that satisfied with, or working on a draft for his fashion sketching class a week before it’s due (he even tries to cook for himself some recipes Julia sent him to try and keep his mind occupied).

Once Wednesday night rolls around, he has all but swept it out of his mind completely. And that’s when he finally hears from you.

Seems like you’ve taken a fancy on catching him off guard.

He’s on the couch when it happens, snuggled under his heated blanket as he tries to fix the embroidery at the hem of an extra’s jacket. The pilot of Stranger Things makes for background noise, and he pays half a mind to it while humming a tune that’s been stuck on his head throughout the whole day-- they started tuning in on the radio at the atelier and now he gets the privilege to listen to the same four songs about ten times a day. His alarm for a meditation app he’s trying out has just gone off on top of the side table - indicating it would be around time for his regular night routine - and just as he reaches for it to turn it off, the screen lights up again. This time for a phone call.

When he catches sight of the name displayed on the screen he almost chokes on his own saliva, the hoop in his hand falling to his lap as he rushes to catch the device. Harry blinks twice at the screen, thinking his eyes might be tricking him into seeing your name shine at the caller id. And for a moment he just stays like this, mind blank before realizing he should pick up before it goes to voicemail.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to even the thumping on his chest as he clears his throat, quickly pressing the accept button before bringing the phone to his ear. “‘Lo?”

“Harry?” Your voice comes in a higher pitch.

“Hi.”

“Are you home right now?”

His brows furrow at the question. “I-Uh- Well, yeah, Wh-”

“That’s perfect! I’m at your front door now…”

“What-” He just about jumps from his spot, tripping over the blanket as it falls around his ankles.

“And I’ve just realized I don’t know which flat to ring!” You continue, oblivious to the hectic man on the other side of the line.

“You’re outside?” Rushing to the window just a couple steps away, he pushes back the curtains to get a view of the street right below. And there you are, leaning back against a black car, similar to the one that gave him a ride, one hand holding the phone to your ear as the other is occupied with something he can’t quite figure out from where he stands. What calls his attention, though, is the gown you’re dressed in, definitely something way too lavish for a wednesday night.

“Yup.” You say simply, and he catches how your gaze moves up, meeting his. “Oh! Hey you!”

“Right. I’ll- I’ll be down in a minute.”

Harry’s not sure how he doesn’t break an ankle on the way down the steps of his building, flying three floors down at a near record speed. Once he reaches the ground floor, he takes a second to catch his breath, leaning with a hand against a wall as he cusses himself out for forgetting about his asthma in the midst of his rush. He manages to ease his breathing, but is still unable to calm the speed of his heartbeats, that now send an electric flow on his bloodstream, and he suddenly feels too warm.

He opens the door to find you just as you were when he saw you from the window. A smile stretches your face when you see him, giving him a wave. You turn back to say something on the driver's window he doesn’t quite catch, but just as you lean away from the vehicle, he watches as it drives away.

From this distance, he has a better look at you, and he’s sure now that your wednesday evening has most definitely played out much different than his. You’re wearing the new Valentino collection, a strapless navy blue dress with golden sparks detailing resembling a firework explosion right at your waist and going all the way down the skirt and up the top. Your hair is done in an updo, leaving your shoulders bare to the night breeze and he wonders if you’re not cold.

Harry barely has time to notice the silver statuete in your hand before you’re stepping towards him, embracing him into a hug. “Hey!”

“Hi.” He tries not to focus on how you smell like fresh roses, or how soft your skin feels when you nuzzle against his neck for a second before pulling back.

“I was around and decided to stop by for a bit!” You grin up at him. “So, are you not gonna invite me up?”

The last few words come out just a bit slurred from your mouth, and that’s when he realizes.

Oh.

You’re drunk.

“Uh, sure, of course.” He holds the door open, waiting for you to step inside before closing it behind him.

You don’t say anything on the way up, and Harry’s got his head going way too fast at once to try to wrap his mind at what’s happening. There��s too many questions he wants to ask, more than he can really make out at the moment. And on top of it all, he’s just started to worry about the state of his tiny little undergrad flat and how he’s about to receive someone who probably has a house with a washroom the size of the whole thing.

His lips part to try to apologize for the mess you’re about to walk in when you two reach his front door, but before he can let a word out, you beat him to it. “Do you have a loo I could use?”

He blinks. “Yeah, it’s just to your right.”

You step out of your heels once you walk in, quickly making a beeline to where he directed, not bothering to glance around the place.

Harry darts towards the living room, trying his best to tidy the mess he left before you step out. He throws the blanket that’s lying limply on the floor over the couch, gathering his embroidery tools that fell to the side of the couch and making his best attempt at folding them. The screen has gone to the second episode now, and he quickly shuts it off. Pondering for a moment if he should put on some music, he decides against it. Instead, he decides on pouring you a glass of water, now that he understands you’re still at least a bit tipsy, he finds it that his best option is to help you get on your best mind so he can figure out why, out of all places, you’ve decided to come here.

Because that’s the thing.

He still doesn’t know why on earth you’ve decided to show up on his flat unprompted, and all he can do is thank every outer force for Julia being out tonight. She would probably fall dead if she knew about this.

A minute too long passes as Harry waits for you, leaning on his kitchen counter with the glass of water sat in front of him. He feels as if he can’t keep still, leg bouncing nervously and fingers tapping against the countertop as he bites into his inner cheek. It’s only when he finally glances in the direction of the toilet that he notices. The door is wide open.

He strides towards the room, stopping just as he reaches the doorway. “Is everything alright in there?”

“Oh! Yeah! You can come in!” Your voice echoes from inside.

Peeking in slowly, his brows shoot up as he sees you sitting at the edge of the bathtub, phone in hands and the statute lying on your lap. You shoot him a smile.

He gestures back vaguely to the kitchen behind him. “Got you some water.”

“There’s no need for that, tonight it’s to celebrate! --Oop” You try to straighten your back, but you end up falling back into the tub, the tulle of the skirt almost swallowing you in the process.

“Fuck-” He rushes towards you, reaching from your arms to try to help you as you burst into giggles. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m great!” You assure, waving his hands off as you adjust yourself to sit more comfortably. “Do you have any wine you can pop?”

“I--” The question takes him back, and he racks his brain to think if there’s still a bottle he’d purchased a couple weeks ago.  “I think so.”

“Bring it, then, let's make this our little after-party.” You throw your arms around dramatically. “A very exclusive one, as you can see.”

“Right.” He chuckles. “Give me a minute.”

“I’ll be right here!”

Turns up there’s just about half a bottle left sitting inside the creaky cabinet. He chooses the glass with the smallest crack at the base-- the glasses are very cheap and Harry’s not very careful with them.

He decides to leave the bottle at the counter, grabbing the filled glass of water as well before heading back where he left you sitting inside his bathtub.  

“There he is!” You exclaim when he walks in, handing you the glass of wine and setting the other next to the sink. “You didn’t pour one for yourself?”

He closes the lid of the toilet, sitting on top of it. “Uhm… Not really a drinking kind of night for me.”

“Oh god!” You gasp. “Of course, how could I be so stupid? I’ll leave you be--”

“No!” Harry quickly asserts,  “No, I mean- It’s fine, really. I was just surprised, is all.”

When you speak, your voice comes out softer, “I don’t mean to disturb.”

“You aren’t!”He assures. “Really, stay I-- It’s nice to see you again.”

You smile up at him, he can tell from this close how your eyes are a bit glossy, and he wonders if he should’ve told you he didn’t have any wine. But still, it’s live you have him at the palm of your hand. “It’s nice to see you again, too.”You scoop a bit to the side, tapping the space next to you. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“Come join me here.”

“I don’t think it fits us both.”

“Of course it does! Here,” You attempt to pull at your skirt with one hand, barely budging the tulle from where it spreads inside the tub. “See?”

He chuckles as you look back up at him. “I’ll ruin your dress.”

“It’s okay, it’s not like I’ll wear it again.” Your eyes widen. “Oh my god, I sounded like a bitch, I didn’t mean it like that just--” Trying again, you do a better job at containing the skirt, giving it enough space for him to sit. “There. Now we can both sit inside, my dress will be intact!”

He laughs, dropping next to you inside the empty bathtub. The hem of your skirt tickles his skin, and he mindlessly reaches to hold the fabric between his fingers. His eyes fall to your lap as he does so, the silver of the statuete catching his eye, he taps the base of it, “What is it for?”

“Huh?” You stop midsip, brows creasing slightly before gazing down to where he’s pointing. “Oh! It’s a Brit. Best New Artist.” Picking it up, you offer it to Harry. The award feels heavier than he thought it would as he holds it, the shape of it resembling a woman’s shape, her body curving in an ‘S’. You sigh next to him, taking a small sip. “Funny, innit? Been doing this for so long, it feels like, but I’m still being treated as if I’m new blood.”

“That’s true.” He turns the award in his hand before handing it back to you, and you simply let it fall back to your lap. There’s a moment of silence as he mulls over the question he’s been wanting to ask since you showed up at his doorstep. “Why didn’t you go to an after-party?”

“Not really in the mood.” You shrug. “Needed a familiar face, I guess.”

He hums in response. Surely, you’ve got plenty of familiar faces in London, ones that you probably see more often than you’ve ever seen him. Friends. Family. So why was it your first instinct to go to his building? You didn’t even text him after you parted ways after the wedding, he was sure you had even forgotten about him once again.

It’s all much too confusing to him.

“H?” You speak up first, your tone is gentle, even a bit uncertain.

The sound of his nickname falling from your lips causes a stutter on his heartbeat.

“Yeah?”

You’re looking down at your lap, watching the liquid inside your glass twirl as you move it slowly. “Is it… Is it too weird that I came here today?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not weird, no.” He comforts. “Was just surprised, is all.”

“I just-” You sigh, a soft frown set between your brows. “Seeing you again, it was really nice, you know?”

“I do.”

“Really.” You meet his eyes with a nod, trying to show how truthful your words are. “Felt like I could let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding for so long.”

He relaxes his shoulders. “I know.” Harry nods. “Yeah I-- I know what you mean.”

When you speak up again, it’s barely above a whisper. The words so sweet it brings the prettiest butterflies to flutter on his belly. “I missed you.”

Harry’s lips part, he wants to say the words back, he can feel them at the tip of his tongue. Because he’s missed you, too. He’s so sure of it. But nothing comes out, his mind going numb as he blinks at you.

“I’m sorry, this was weird, It’s just--” You shake your head to yourself, letting out a nervous laugh. “What I mean is that… I don’t know, I wish we could’ve still talked, you know? After…”

“Yeah.”

You grin. “At the reception, when we chatted, and you told me all those things you’ve been up to, it just… I don’t know, I just wished I could’ve been there with you.” Your eyes look between his, searching for something he can’t quite put his finger on before you take a breath. “And I don’t mean that, like, in a weird way! But as a friend, you know? Wish I could’ve been there with you.”

He clears his throat, forcing himself to speak. “I didn’t…” He opens his mouth, closing it before finally saying. “I never thought you felt that way.”

“I don’t think I realized how much I needed someone close to me that knows me until I saw you again, really.”The words spill out of your mouth, adorably switching from a gentle tone to a rushed one. “And I mean, I have friends that I love and that I trust but… Having someone that’s like…”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Normal?”

“Don’t say it like that!” You shove him playfully. “But, yeah, someone that knows me without the lights, and the expensive clothes, and the big houses.” Your lips frown as you shrug.  “That just wouldn’t care if I didn’t have all that, that would still like me regardless.”

“You can still have that.” He tries to reassure you, the confession making him want to comfort you. “It’s not too late.”

Looking down at your lap, he sees your breathing halter for a second. “Have we become strangers?” You meet his gaze, chewing down at your bottom lip. “It’s what I kept thinking after I dropped you off, I don’t think I want you to be a stranger.”

Then, he reaches up, brushing a strand out of your forehead. “I don’t think I want that, either.”

Your smile grows. “It’s settled, then.” You nod. “I’m officially promoting you from distant ex to the close friend position.”

Harry lets out a full laugh. “That’s a very sudden rise of positions.”

“We’ll make it slow, then.” You reason, your words starting to stumble out of your mouth again. “Get to know each other again, we can do it when I’m not drunk inside your bathtub. Do you like coffee now?”

“I do, actually.” He replies with a grin. “Hard not to when you’re a uni student.”

“Lovely! We’ll have a coffee and chat.”

“Sounds great.”

You hold up your almost empty wine glass.“To caffeine and friendship.” Tilting it. “Cheers.”

He lets a moment of silence settle, before smirking down at you. “Now, what you said about the expensive clothes…”

“Oh my god, cut the deal.” Rolling your eyes, you try to make it as if you’re about to get up. “We don’t need to get to know each other again, I can tell you’re still a pest.”

“Don’t know what you mean, pet.” He giggles, brushing his hair off his shoulder in dramatics. “I’ve always been a dream.”

//

A/N: I’ve been so excited to share this one with you all!! Thank you so much for reading it :D I’m so curious to know what you all will think about it so please, if you enjoyed it, reblog it or send some feedback to support!! Also, make sure to check the fic page where I keep all my inspo for Curious Time :)

[redheadgleek]

end of the year reflections

TV shows watched: The Great British Bakeoff, Shadow and Bone, Bridgerton, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Ted Lasso, Long Way Round, Long Way Down, Long Way Up, Star Trek Discovery, The Mandalorian (season 1), Wandavision, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Loki (am I missing any?)

Movies watched: Tick, Tick … Boom, Single All the Way, The Prom, Black Widow, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, Come From Away, The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring, Love Hard. I did not go to the movie theater (they didn’t open up here until June).

Concerts attended: none (cries in pandemic forever). II know I did a virtual concert but for the life of me, I can’t remember what it was.

Musicals/Theater attended (masks and vaccination proof required): Jesus Christ Superstar, Mean Girls, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.

Music listened to: I don’t do spotify so I have nothing “unwrapped.” Adele, Andrew Belle’s latest album, Darren Criss’s EP Masquerade and A Very Darren Crissmas, Lil Nas X’s Montero (Call Me By Your Name).

Favorite tiktoks/youtube follows: Dr. Glaucomflecken, B Dylan Hollis, Nerdforge

Fanfic written: I finished off the last 4 chapters of sure like never before in January and February and then I spent the rest of the year writing these inconvenient fireworks, which I finished the last week in November. 52,000 words this year.

Books read: Sometime near the start of the pandemic in 2020, I joined a facebook group dedicated to reading Rilla of Ingleside, which triggered a rekindling in my interest in books. As a former book worm, it’s rather astonishing how little books I’ve read in the last decade – I’ve read many other things, newspapers and magazines and fanfiction, but very few books.

I set a goal of reading 20 books this year. I surpassed that and read 49 books this year (I don’t think I’ll get to 50 by midnight. You can read all of my reviews on goodreads.

Favorite book: The House In the Cerulean Sea. By far. I spent the rest of the year trying to recapture the feeling that that book gave me. Book that I thought I had read before but most definitely did not and it haunted me forever and I’m still not sure if I understand what happened. Liar. No really, what was that ending?

Word I can happily never see again in a plus-size romance: voluptuous (I think plus-sized romances aren’t my thing).

Book everybody should read: The Sum of Us. Really well-written and researched.

Books attempted but did not finish: The Gentleman’s Guide to Getting Lucky. I had forgotten how much I had hated the protagonist in the first book (I liked the plot! I liked the secondary characters. I hated Monty.) and couldn’t get through it. And I just got The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy from the library – we’ll see if the third times the charm. The Essex Serpent. I tried. It’s going to be a movie. Maybe I’ll watch it and then try again.

Number of camping trips: 2 (Oregon coast and Wyoming).

Number of plane trips: 2 (Utah/Wyoming for camping with the family in July, and Arizona to see the family in October. Hopefully maybe more in 2022?)

Weather disasters endured: ice storm in February, heat domes in June and July, atmospheric rivers in September.

Number of houses bought: 1

Number of houses bought and regretted: .... zero?

Number of repairs still needed on house: *cries*

Number of items knitted: 3 scarves, the body of a doll which is still dismembered...

Amount of yarn purchased: *shifty eyes*.

All of the books read by genre below the cut…

Books listened to: Chris Colfer’s The Land of Stories series: The Wishing Spell, The Enchantress Returns, A Grimm Warning, Beyond the Kingdoms, An Author’s Odyssey, and Worlds Collide. I’ve started A Tale of Magic, but I’m only a couple of chapters into it. The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune because I loved the book so much that I wanted to read it again for the first time and this brought out all sort of things I had missed. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz read by Lin-Manuel Miranda (perfect voice).

Nonfiction: The Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together by Heather McGhee;  The Birth of the Pill: How Four Crusaders Reinvented Sex and Launched a Revolution by Jonathan Eig America and The Pill: A History of Promise, Peril, and Liberation by Elaine Tyler May

Poetry:  If Mother Braids a Waterfall by Dayna Patterson;  Nature Poem by Tommy Pico

Middle Grade:  Strong as Fire, Fierce as Flame by Supriya Kelkar;  Ogre Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine;

Young adult: Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo; Iron Widow (Iron Widow, #1) by Xiran Jay Zhao;  Concrete Rose by Angie Thomas;  Anyway the Wind Blows and If the Fates Allow: A Short Story by Rainbow Rowell;  Needlework by Julia Watts;  The River Has Teeth by Erica Waters;  Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World (Aristotle and Dante, #2) by Benjamin Alire Sáenz;  Lore by Alexandra Bracken;   Six Crimson Cranes (Six Crimson Cranes #1) by Elizabeth Lim;   The Magnolia Sword: A Ballad of Mulan by Sherry Thomas;  The Girls at the Kingfisher Club by Genevieve Valentine;  Glimpsed by G.F. Miller;  The Extraordinaries and Flash Fire by T.J. Klune;  The Pearl Thief, Code Name Verity (reread), and Rose Under Fire (reread) by Elizabeth Wein Liar by Justine Larbalestier;  The Upside of Unrequited (Simonverse, #2);  Stepsister by Jennifer Donnelly

Adult fiction: Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters, #3) by Taila Hibbert; Anne of Manhattan by Brina Starler; The House in the Cerulean Sea and Under the Whispering Door by T.J. Klune; If the Shoe Fits (Meant to Be #1) by Julie Murphy; Cocaine Blues (Phryne Fisher, #1) by Kerry Greenwood; How to Stop Time and The Midnight Library by Matt Haig; Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch; Boyfriend Material (Boyfriend Material, #1) by Alexis Hall; Spoiler Alert by Olivia Dade; Patsy by Nicole Dennis-Benn; The Wedding Date (The Wedding Date, #1) by Jasmine Guillory;

[theji]

Song of the Moment: 匿名的宝贝 Anonymous Darling

Today's song recommendation isn't directly related to Yizhan but rather, a BJYX fan fiction [As You Wish]. The original Chinese version is considered a classic within the fandom and there's even a book version of it now. I first read the fic about 3 months ago after seeing it in @rainbowsky's recommendations list. It's a long read, more than 90K words but I finished it in one sitting. That's how invested I was in the storyline.

(Side note: thank you Rainbowsky for the list. Your recommendations are excellent and most of them are right up my alley. If anyone's keen, here's the list. Check it out!)

I re-read it again last night and it just hit me even deeper the second time around. First time was really just to get the plot moving along but on my second read, you get to see more of the nuances, pick up clues that you missed previously. Generally just got more deeply into the main characters' headspace.

What I like about it is its simplicity and realistic portrayal of life and love - two people who understood the realities of life's circumstances and chose to put themselves first, and that any relationships take effort and courage to work. There's no fancy or dramatic plotlines, no major conflicts or antagonists or whatever, but it just draws you in.

Two ex-lovers, meeting again, walking on eggshells, awkward conversations, testing boundaries, wanting but held back by fear and uncertainties. Of personal growth and maturity. Of love lost and not found, but rather, rebuilt. It's not a fairy tale - there's light angst, some tension, sweet moments, awkwardness, etc but a worthwhile read, I assure you. I'm even planning to read the fic in Chinese next to experience it as the author intended.

Anyway, back to the song. Anonymous Darling is a 2004 song released by Singaporean singer-songwriter/rocker Huang Yida. I had known of this song back then when I was a teen cos my sis was a fan of him. We even went to his autograph session 😅. In the fic, the song is quite a central part of the plot, like a theme song of sorts, and the lyrics were used to portray some of the characters' innermost thoughts. After re-reading the fic, I put the song on replay. All the feels...hence the inspiration for this post.

Anonymous Darling is a love song, but a bittersweet one. It's about someone who once had a great love but then lost it. Instead of pining over it or being resentful or nonchalant, they chose to keep it hidden deep within their own heart, to safeguard it. The love and yearning is still there, it's still beautiful, it's precious. Even if it doesn't come to fruition, it won't ever be forgotten.

我思念在你眼中那一片海水 How I miss the view of the sea (tears?) in your eyes

有一种让我心痛的美 It's devastatingly beautiful

于是我选择自已孤单的睡 That's why I chose to sleep alone (to leave)

下半辈子让我不相信的理由 我想是你对不对 I guess you're the reason why I stopped believing for the rest of my life

妳是个匿名的宝贝 藏在我心里的眼泪 You're an anonymous darling, hidden in the tears within my heart

不管妳带走了什么 我都因为爱过妳觉得美 No matter what you take away, I'll always find it (the relationship) beautiful because I once loved you

永远不忘记妳的我 像一个孤魂和野鬼 I will never forget you, just like a lonely soul and wild ghost

在这个世界上受苦 风吹雨打 我都无所谓 Even if I have to suffer hardships or endure the wind and rain, it doesn't matter at all.

妳是个匿名的宝贝 常在我心里飞呀飞 You're an anonymous darling, fluttering around in my heart

如果还能有那一天 请妳 回头看我一眼醒了没 If that day ever comes, please turn back to look at me and see if I've woken up

不必安慰我 妳知道我不累 oh 爱妳怎么会累 Don't need to comfort me, you know I'm not tired. How can loving you be tiring

再一次站在雨中看着天黑 Standing once again in the rain looking up at the dark sky

我觉得我在人海里潜水 It feels like I'm diving in a sea of people

带妳的名字飞往东南西北 Carrying your name with me to North, South, East, West

我要让这个地球上除了我 再也没有人能知道 妳是谁 妳又是我的谁 Except me, I don't want anyone else in this world to know who you are, and who you are to me.

I hope you'll enjoy today's song recommendation. It really brought back memories of my teenage days. Haha..and also enhanced my appreciation of the fic. Sorry, this post was not meant to be a fic recommendation but I'd be happy to discuss the story separately with anyone who's keen.

Since I'm on it, might as well recommend a few other Huang Yida songs that I liked back then. I think he's now focusing more on song writing and has penned songs for several hit drama series in China. He's on Spotify too.

(Ok I realised I like a lot of them so I'll just list some. I love soft rock, which he does very well.)

That Girl Said To Me

Blue Sky

That Girl

Every Day and Every Night

Only Understand When You Love

Love Under the Microscope

Go Away

Like You (Like Me)

A Second of Comfort

Equilateral Triangle

A Song to Myself

Heart Disk

Simple (fun fact: GG's idol Stefanie Sun penned the melody to this. In fact, Yida was dubbed 'the male version of Stef Sun' when he debuted.)

[swan-of-sunrise]

The Winter Soldier (Chapter Three)

Summary: Steve drops by the VA and listens in on one of Sam’s meetings and later that evening, (Y/N) reflects on her unusual day with the super-soldier.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Brief discussion of PTSD

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Three (Previous Chapter)

After placing sugar packets and stirring sticks next to the coffee maker, (Y/N) took a seat beside the refreshment table and watched as Sam took his place at the front of the crowded room and began the meeting. One by one, each person would share their struggles with PTSD and how it had affected their lives as civilians; with each person’s story, (Y/N)’s heart clenched in sympathy. These vets have put their lives on the line to protect us, they don’t deserve to suffer, she thought with an inward sigh. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d woken Sam up from a nightmare or had seen him suddenly grow silent and have to distract him from his memories of war. But it was wonderful that people like Sam, people who face the same exact struggles, run programs to help each other out.

Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) turned to see Steve Rogers leaning against the doorframe of the room, his arms crossed over his chest as he listened to the meeting. Smiling and tugging her sweater tighter around her, (Y/N) turned her attention back to the woman speaking. “The thing is I think it’s getting worse. A cop pulled me over last week, he thought I was drunk. I swerved to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”

Sam nodded. “Some stuff you leave there, other stuff you bring back. It’s our job to figure out how to carry it. Is it gonna be in a big suitcase or in a little man-purse? It’s up to you.” Everyone clapped and began standing, so (Y/N) jumped to her feet to man the table. She greeted each person with a smile as they grabbed cookies and filled their cups with coffee, delighted to see so many new faces among the usual crowd. After about twenty minutes of mingling and making small talk, the crowd started to leave so she decided to begin packing up the refreshments as Sam bid them goodbye out in the hallway.

“Don’t take those away those cookies just yet, darlin’, I wanna bring one home to my gran’daughter.”

(Y/N) looked up to see Gary, an older man with an incredibly bushy grey beard and a Vietnam War veteran’s baseball cap, and she smiled brightly before offering him the half-full container. “Take the whole thing if you’d like, Gary, and be sure to say hello to Katie for me!”

That made Gary grin toothily as he took the container. “You know, darlin’, you’re sweeter than this whole damn box of cookies. I’ll be seein’ you next week!” (Y/N) gave him a small wave and resumed cleaning as he limped away.

“You’re pretty popular around here.”

She turned away from the coffee pot and smiled when she saw Steve standing before her, his blue eyes glimmering and his hands shoved in his pockets. “If I am, it’s only ‘cause I give away free cookies; the vets that visit all have a massive sweet-tooth, you know.”

“Are you a vet, too?”

“Nah, I just work here.” She tossed several used paper coffee cups into the trash and chuckled. “A year ago, when I finally graduated with my master’s degree, I started writing my novel and since I was writing about soldiers and government agents I needed to interview some about their personal experiences. So, I decided to come down to the VA. I met with Sam, who had just started working here, and asked if I could interview some people for my writing. He agreed, and I spent the whole day just talking to the vets. All sorts of vets, too; men, women, old, young, you name it. And at the end of the day, after hearing about their struggles with PTSD and how hard their lives became once they returned to civilian life, I went back to Sam and asked if he needed any part-time employees. He said yes, and we’ve been best friends ever since.” Steve smiled, and the impressed look he was giving her caused her to blush so she hurriedly changed the subject. “So, did everything work out earlier? It’s just that it seemed a little serious, so I hope that everything’s okay.”

Steve’s smile fell a little but he nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine…I was just visiting a friend who hasn’t been doing too well lately.”

(Y/N) impulsively placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, that sounds difficult. I hope they get better soon.” The ghost of a sympathetic smile pulled at the corner of her mouth and Steve’s eyes softened after a moment; realizing that her hand was still resting on his arm, she hastily withdrew it and began folding the tablecloth to keep her hands busy. “Um, Sam and I were planning on going out to dinner after we finish packing up, you’re welcome to join us if you want.”

She glanced up at him and saw a glint of something in his eyes, but it disappeared before she could get a closer look. “Thanks for the offer but I’ll have to pass; I’ve already got some plans later…”

“That’s okay, maybe next time!” (Y/N) smiled, but inside she couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

Just then, Sam walked into the room with a stack of pamphlets in his hands. “Pretty good turnout today, huh? Five new faces and Captain America!”

Steve chuckled. “Well, I’m glad that I stopped by.” He glanced at the clock on the wall before continuing, “I should probably get going, but it was good to see you two again.”

(Y/N) shook his hand. “I’m not gonna lie, it was a little weird seeing you in your own exhibit earlier but it was great hanging out with you!”

“You too, and good luck with For Queen and Country, I’ll keep my eye out for it in the bookshops.” His bright smile caused her heartbeat to once-again quicken as their hands dropped.

“It was good seeing you too, Cap, you made me look really awesome in front of Maria, so thanks for that.” Sam grinned and shook his outstretched hand.

“Glad I could help, Sam; see you two around!” Steve gave them a small wave before turning and walking out of the room.

Tearing her eyes away from the doorway, (Y/N) resumed her cleaning and glanced at Sam. “What do you feel like tonight, Thai or burgers?”

Sam grinned and began unplugging the coffee maker. “Burgers. So, did you have a nice day chilling with your new boyfriend, Booksmart?”

“Sam…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, (Y/N) sat down at her desk and put her music on shuffle before flicking through her notebook to the pages of notes she’d taken that day at the Smithsonian. She bit back a smile when she recognized the difference between the carefully printed notes she’d taken by herself versus the illegible scribbles taken from the elderly security guard’s long-winded explanations. He was kind of a fast talker, wasn’t he, she thought to herself; as a way of honoring the enthusiastic old man, she ultimately decided to name one of her minor characters after him.

“Stan.” She sounded out the name and gave a satisfied nod. “Yeah, that’s got a nice ring to it…”

(Y/N), now finally having all the information she needed to best describe Soviet Cold War missiles, wrote for nearly three hours straight, only taking breaks to skip songs or to glance down at her notes. She would’ve probably continued writing well into the next morning except that her eyesight was beginning to blur around the edges, an unfortunate symptom of exhaustion.

Well, you have had a pretty busy day today, (Y/N) silently reasoned as she saved her evening’s progress and booted down her laptop. Since Sam was already fast asleep in the room across the hall, she went about her bedtime routine as quietly as she could, washing her face and brushing her teeth before tiptoeing back into her room. She slipped on her mismatched pajama set and was about to crawl into bed when the record player on her bedside table caught her eye. Making her way over to what Sam affectionately called ‘The DJ Bookcase,’ she scanned the shelf devoted solely to her record collection until the right one stood out to her, and then she carefully placed the record on the turntable and lowered the needle. After a moment, the soft tones of Glenn Miller’s ‘Stardust’ filled her room and with a smile, she finally got into bed and turned to watch the record spinning on the turntable.

Thoughts of the super-soldier who’d inspired her choice in bedtime music began to fill her mind, making her smile softly to herself. (Y/N) had enjoyed seeing Steve again, even if it had been in a highly unconventional place like the Smithsonian, and she quietly marveled at how effortless it had been to talk to the larger-than-life man. He really was different from how the history books portrayed him: not only was he kind and polite, but he was also intelligent, sarcastic and extremely understanding. Also a little lost, I expect, (Y/N) thought, remembering his guarded expressions and withdrawn replies whenever she’d ask him a personal question; it couldn’t be easy adjusting to a brand-new reality, especially without a fixed support system to rely on.

“Hopefully he ends up getting the help he needs.” (Y/N) murmured to herself, her sleepy eyes continuing to watch the rotating record as more thoughts of Steve Rogers filled her mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all liked my little Stan Lee cameo in this chapter and the last :) I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BenknAqQQnOWY8NmSa23V

Tagging: @mrs-obrien​ @lahoete​ @awkward117​ @cminr​ @momc95​ @awkwardnesshabitat​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @khuang3​ @supersouthy​ @benakenalove​ @brooke0297​ @hufflepeople​ @becausewelie​​ @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum​

Chapter Four

“The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

[retvenkos]

“i am a little bit of everything i’ve seen in my life.”

requested

MY HEADCANONS FOR THE HYBRID HARRY POTTER HOUSES...

gryffindor/ravenclaw

if you’re in gryffindor you think you’re more “refined” than everyone else, and if you’re in ravenclaw you think everyone’s a stiff

this is the person with the braincell! let it be known that they have it, but refuse to use it

they have to be a little chaotic because they know what consequences are but disregard them

these people call themselves ambiverts but it really just means they won’t talk to you if they hate you

and i say that lovingly

okay, but if they do talk to you??? best people to talk with - they can hold an interesting conversation masterfully and it’s all because their enthusiasm is off the charts

let them ramble, it’s very endearing.

and physical touch is probably their love language so cuddle with them, too

they’re sci-fi and superhero nerds change my mind

now their loyalty is really interesting because gryffindors are really loyal where as a ravenclaws are individualistic and prioritize #1, so i feel like they are very much on guard

befriending is hard - they’ll keep you at bay until they are sure you can be trusted. and they won’t be made to feel bad about it either.

but once you are close to them,,,,, they would save you or die trying

their inside jokes are god tier

i don’t know how they do it other than they know how to make people laugh using the most unexpected methods and because it was such a weird experience, people are able to remember really well?

like, they could say “nutmeg” and everyone around you starts laughing, meanwhile you’re just ???

gryffinclaws are also really interesting because they don’t do well with conflict, but drama sort of gravitates toward them because let’s be real here, they can kind of be actively seeking it out, sometimes.

i mean, it’s usually to avoid having to deal with deeper emotions or even bigger problems, but sometimes they have a hand in their own suffering....

also, these people never study if they don’t like the class. they don’t. if they dislike the subject, they procrastinate with every fibre of their being.

but if it’s something they love, they are the first to get it done and will 100% do extra research and talk about it all the time.

they say they love both cats and dogs equally, and they actually mean it.

they are most likely concerned with wanting to change the world in some way - but they want it to be a tangible way that still allows for creativity and freedom

this is also the friend who stays up wayyyyyyy too late, and when you ask them what they’re doing, all they can say is “memes”

and they really do love memes - send them some. it’s their primary way of communicating

they love going out to get lunch and chatting with friends

food + people = love

they’ll even do it in their room! just bring bread and a good conversation - they can stay up for hours

also,,,, creativity and courage??? these are the people who actually have the confidence to publish their writing/art/whatever, and i admire that.

but writers block hits them so hard... i’m so sorry

okay, but if i understand the meme right, i’d give them wine aunt status.

gryffindor/hufflepuff:

these bastards

but i say that lovingly!

this is your meddling friend - that person that knows all and you can’t hide a secret from them to save your life.

and they seem to know everyone?????

they could ruin your life if they wanted to, but they are sweet uwu children and would never - in fact, they’re appalled you would even suggest it.

don’t let them hang out with gryffindor slytherins, no matter what. they will be corrupted and then it’s all over.

“but why are they bastards?” you ask. well,,,, if you’re acting surly or really don’t want to do a thing™ they will use their knowledge against you, prodding you in the direction you did not want to be going

of course, they only ever use this power when it’s for your greater good, but it’s annoying and invasive enough to grant them bastard status.

10/10 the mom friend.

even has the mom stare.

you know - the whole “you’re being irrational and you’re going to do this no matter how you hate it” stare

they have the  m o s t   energy and i honestly admire that

and they’re so hard working and dedicated that motivation isn’t a problem? it’s really just trying to get a solid, coherent thought that plagues them.

someone please get them a planner - they are constantly running late, but excited to be here!

100% have cottagecore vibes, or at least naturecore or adventurecore

point is, they want to be outside, doing things

they most likely want to make change in this world, but on a smaller level - with the people they care about, or the place they live

they really want to see what this world has to offer, but they are deathly afraid of being lonely

ngl, they probably get hurt by people a lot. they’re a little too trusting and go in a little too deep and when that other person leaves it does irrevocable damage.

it’s kind of like idealism and optimism, but at what cost?

100% smother their own feelings with a pillow and then preoccupy themself with the problems of others to not deal with their own

get them someone to talk to, please. they deserve it.

most likely they are an extrovert and surround themself with people so that they won’t have to feel loss as hard

spoiler alert: loss is always crushing.

gryffinpuffs believe in people - it’s their greatest gift and worst downfall

and they cannot live without them

do they have the braincell? sometimes. most of the time they share it and forget to ask for it back.

they probably like to do tangible things - like sculpture or knitting, baking, caring for plants....

something they can hold close

and if they read, they 100% finish books in one sitting. they just binge and it’s very iconic of them

probably a romantic, idk

they want a meet cute in real life and read all of the marriage fanfics

gryffindor/slytherin:

now these are the people who smile when you call them a bastard

and are most likely to be called a bastard unlovingly

at first glance they might be a little low on the empathy scales, but if you make it into their circle they would kill, die, and resurrect themself for you

BUT! all things come with a cost.

these are your friends with shifting loyalties. they are loyal until they feel your loyalty toward them fade, and they can and will shift against you for self preservation.

and they won’t feel bad about where their loyalties lie.

but please love them because if you really do believe in them they will feel it and it will rock their whole world

and if your feelings are strong, you’ll be surprised how quickly they can turn to you for guidance

if you haven’t noticed, this group is extremely intuitive - they can just sense what everyone feels about them

all that intuition... and quite a lot of tact

maybe it’s the cunning or the self preservation in them, but they can read a room really well - only bested by the hufflepuff/slytherin - and can sway everyone to their side

you want someone to give oddly accurate motivational speeches? this is the person you’re looking for!

slytherdors.... you either love them or you hate them

but no joke these are the people that the gryffinclaws and slytherclaws are constantly fighting - and the slytherdor is ready to throw hands at any given moment, someone pLEASE send a ravenpuff (huffleclaw?) to save them

if you wanted someone to embody teenage angst, HERE YOU GO!

it’s either that or they are extremely competitive and not afraid to call someone out

if there’s a dueling club, someone please put restraints on these children

as you can imagine, these people have a lot going on, and what they really need is just some quiet stability.

they need to see this world isn’t constantly out to get them.

they absolutely love music, so listen to songs with them! they have the best spotify playlists with the most obscure vibes, and it’s very aesthetically pleasing

also! listen to them in any group setting - they make the best, dry comments under their breath

if you laugh at them they will reach into the heavens and give you the moon and the stars

they really want the ~found family~ and definitely seek it out

they crave redemption arcs

they give me baby wolf vibes - they are wild killers, but they’re at that tender age where they’re still vvv similar to a puppy, when given affection

their slytherin side has tamed the impulsivity of a gryffindor, but the level of tactician a slytherdor is varies wildly. you never know what you’re going to get, and they are actually really good at covering it up

kind of like on those alignment charts where it’s like “looks like they could kill you but is a cinnamon roll” except it’s “seems competent, but is really an idiot”

they really need an animal companion, probably a cat or tarantula

the slytherdor probably doesn’t feign to study - they either do or they don’t and if that’s bad for their mental health then they’ll fight god himself

i get a lot of vibes of zuko screaming at the sky in that lightning storm, where he’s like, “come on, strike me! you’ve never held back before!”

maybe i’ve been a little negative, but uh,,,, their love language is sitting in the dark, holding hands and talking about the lamest part of their day

also, they hate meaningless endings to tv shows - they just want to see everyone be happy or die trying

ravenclaw/hufflepuff:

you mean the adjusted ravenclaw?

maybe that was mean, but what i really mean is that they are the most emotionally intelligent of all the ravenclaws

these ravenclaws know how to use conflict resolution skills, and they are very much needed in ravenclaw tower

they’ve been coaching the gryffindor/ravenclaws, but good luck maintaining their attention if they don’t want to listen

they also have patience! that means they get along well with slytherins.

even if they’re tired, they’re a good sport about it

light academia aesthetic, or just soft vibes in general.

they are probably the only artists with a coherent schedule that they keep up on, while still remembering to stay hydrated and function like a normal human being

they lowkey crave structure - the unexpected is not for them

riddles? those have a right and wrong answer - they absolutely hate it when the gryffindor/ravenclaws or ravenclaw/slytherins give an answer that is “technically” right

they probably don’t tell anyone, though

passive-aggression? yep. i can feel them seething from here.

like, they can solve minor problems and can get over bigger ones in time, but if it’s a huge slight, they are never going to let go

and it’s super palpable when they dislike you because they are so kind to everyone else

they probably have a passion for poetry but can’t seem to write any themself

definitely still keep a book of it hidden under their bed, though

and if they are good they vehemently deny it but continue to write anyway

the biggest thing they struggle with is knowing their direction in life - who do they want to be?

abstract thinking is an art form, and these ravenclaws ponder existence in the most intangible ways you’ve ever seen

10/10 lay on the ground and stare at the ceiling for like 3 hours straight

they can vary wildly on the introvert-extrovert scale, but they are never in the middle. extremes only.

you can get close to them out with acts of service - they give so much, please just treat them ONCE

they attach themself to so many people, though. even if they’re an introvert, you’d be surprised with their connections.

they’re so level headed and yet, they can feel so lost

kind of reminds me of 50′s moms who seem perfect on the outside but have existential crises while making a roast in heels

they don’t necessarily want to be “known” - they probably feel like that definition is changing all of the time, so it would scare them to put themself in a box

i guess they’re kind of free spirits - maybe more like the aunt who does yoga with baby goats and collects crystals and pretty shells

they are great at conflict resolution, yes, but don’t expect them to be your therapist (that’s the hufflepuff/slytherin)

they have absolutely no idea when it comes to deep feelings - they barely understand their own

probably paints, tbh, or at the very least loves to go to museums w/ really abstract art.

they actually have the braincell! they keep it a lot of the time and can be stingy with it.

they either wake up really early in the morning or stay up until the sun rises because it gives them “clarity” or something.

ravenclaw/slytherin:

they’re definitely the blunt friend who will just say things as they see them

yeah, tact is lost on them

they also love to claim that they “don’t need” people, so they butt heads with the hufflepuff/slytherin and the ravenclaw/hufflepuff a lot

they have quite a bit of stratagem up their sleeve, so people can be weary of them

their attitude does nothing to solve this, but it could also be that the slytherclaw has this idea that flattery gets them nowhere

they are so divisive in their individualism,,, good luck befriending them

but if you do befriend them, you have a powerful friend in your corner.

they are 100% that distant relative that you think hates you but you aren’t sure if that’s just the way they are

but let me tell you a secret,,,, their love language is words of affirmation and if you stroke their ego they’ll grow soft

while slytherclaws may not be very persuasive on their own, they actually work really well in teams. they know everyone’s strengths are are unafraid to take charge and tell people what needs to be done and how

they’re also really good at logical thinking, so you definitely want to be lab partners with this one

and schoolwork? they do it and they take good notes. a really great student

and their ambitions and competitiveness means they are unafraid to go far, and they will do it in style, too

this is the epitome of dark academia. 

and there is very little that is chaotic when it comes to them - the slytherclaw is an excellent planner

maybe they desire more out of life - they never feel like they are quite getting what they want

they are cynical, but they they have such high hopes for this world

when they are let down, they’re not surprised but disenchanted nonetheless

they ponder the meaning of the world and what this world could be far more than they ponder their own life

they tend to see a bigger, more sweeping picture

100% they love the odyssey and definitely think it’s better than the iliad

they adore high fantasy with every fibre of their being and can really get into period dramas

i would say that a gryffindor/ravenclaw would be a good friend for them - we all know a gryffinclaw can talk, and sometimes a slytherclaw just needs to hear someone else’s take on this world

and, of course, it helps when anyone shows appreciation

okay, but they love sweets - chocolate, liquorice, peppermint, caramel... it’s one of the few childish things they allow themself to have.

they are actually relatively quick to trust? the fastest slytherin, actually

they keep their group small, but they get vibes about people and once you show them loyalty they trust you entirely.

i suppose they guess you don’t have any games because they don’t have any

ooh, but if you betray them??? they are a mess, emotionally, and will not hesitate to lash out.

but they are caring in their own way, and will do little things like reminding you to drink water or bringing you toast if you haven’t eaten and it’s very sweet

hufflepuff/slytherin:

so i know we have this idea of the slytherin sweetheart, but a slytherpuff is so much more than that

one of their strongest traits is the intersection of ambition and hard work - they will not stop until they are the best (in their mind at least)

it’s almost a petty form of competition. a bit of schadenfreude when they win.

and everyone’s immediate thought is that a hufflepuff/slytherin would be the most trusting slytherins but no.

not even close.

slytherpuffs are guarded at first, while holding a secret soft spot for you in their heart. but they won’t act on it until they are 100% sure you won’t hurt them. they are suspicious, but really want to like people.

it takes a lot to break down their walls, but when you do they already have a steady foundation for your trust to grow on, and it’s the strongest thing in this world

because of this they can often come off as cold or distant, but once you’re in their circle, oh yeah. there’s the hufflepuff qualities you were searching for.

a good contender for the mom friend position, but they aren’t overt enough to be so.

they’re not getting into your business or being slightly invasive like real mom friends, but if you need advice or a hug,,,,, this is the friend to go to.

they’re like the nice aunt. vvv comforting, but only if sought out.

oh, they have the strongest moral code i have ever seen - it cannot be shaken or swayed.

but! it can often go against the rules, so you do have a bit of chaos working beneath the surface.

i 100% believe that their love language is quality time, and most of that can be spent quietly, just sitting in the other’s presence.

i feel like 90% of their conversations is hand gestures or subtle facial expressions, so it make take a while to be able to read them, but it also means they are soooo good at reading other people

seriously, if you need a therapist in the group, this is your person. they know people so well. their intuition is off the charts.

BUT ALSO,,,, their levels of introvertedness are sky high. i feel like this is a given, but they can be in your orbit for 5 months and speak to your twice and think that is a decent amount of exposure.

please get them an extrovert. they need the exposure.

sEcReTS??? this slytherin probably has some, but you have to be like at level 50 to unlock their tragic backstory

they also have academia vibes and do really well in school work, but whether or not it’s dark academia or light academia is disputed. maybe grey academia? (is that a thing?)

they struggle with wanting to be known and yet wanting to hide parts of themself they find unattractive or unwanted

probably feel like they’re pulled in too many directions and overthink their choices just a bit too much.

everyone knows they have the braincell, but whether or not they use it is unsure

it’s so easy for their friends to coax them, they probably give it to someone else and never ask for it back even though they should be in sole custody of it

AND FLUFF ENSUES. (i realize some of these are kind of aggressive, so... vibe check!)

-- taglist: @musicallisto, @theletterhart, @locke-writes, @randomfandomimagine, @brokenandheadoverheels, @timeofmadness, @writerdream22 // message me if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

[perseusannabeth]

Don’t Look (Okay Maybe Just a Little Peek) - Part 3

A/N: So this is based off a prompt I received in my inbox, “dance with me” for Nessian. I decided to write it for day 1 of NaNoWriMo, so I haven’t really proof read this super well. 

Read on ao3

Read on tumblr, part 1, part 2

Word count: 1960

Nesta was in a good mood. She had the day off work, and she was home alone. She had just finished reading a book which had a really cute ending, and it had left her feeling happy and light. She also supposed that Cassian also had something to do with her good mood, as much as she was loathed to admit it to anyone, especially Cassian.  

Things had changed between Cassian and Nesta. It had been just over a week since that disastrous day he had walked in on her in the shower, but somehow miraculously, things had taken a turn for the better. Nesta still couldn't quite believe that Cassian was interested in her, that he had asked her on a date, but then she would catch the way he looked at her from the corner of her eye and realise that no, it was true. She still couldn't quite believe that he was looking like that. It seemed so out of the blue, except, he did flirt with her a lot. She had assumed he was joking but he had just been too scared to ask her on a date. He had said he used to practice in the mirror! 

She didn't want to admit it, but the thought of Cassian practising how to ask her on a date like some sort of love-struck teenager made her laugh. It also made her feel warm and fuzzy, something that Nesta Archeron was not well known for. It was really sweet and cute, which was not a way that she thought she would ever end up describing Cassian. But the more she got to know Cassian, she realised that she didn't really know him at all until she started living with him. She had known Cassian before, obviously, otherwise, she wouldn't have agreed to live with him. But before living with him she had never seen the way he was a morning person, and how he loved to cook, and how he likes soft things so his flat is full of fluffy blankets and soft pillows.  

Thinking about Cassian did give her a warm fuzzy feeling, and she wasn't quite sure what to do about it. It was strange. She had never felt anything like this, certainly not as strong as this. She had never thought she would feel this way, especially after Tomas. She had known, somewhere in the back of her mind that she had some sort of feelings for Cassian, but she had ignored them. Dealing with something like that is too dangerous after Tomas.  

Cassian always seemed to force her out of her comfort zone, and this was no different. She now couldn't ignore her feelings, which was something she was comfortable doing. However, despite the uncomfortable feeling, and the slight anxiety, seeing Cassian so happy about agreeing to go on a date with him seemed to calm the anxiety. The goofy smile on his face was all she needed to think of to calm herself when thinking about her possible feelings towards him.  

But right now, she was thinking about the goofy look on Cassian's dumb face, while listening to the High School Musical 2 soundtrack and cleaning the kitchen. She had a red velvet cake in the oven because after she had finished reading she felt like baking. She was in her pyjamas still, with no bra on because why would she put her boobs in their jail on her day off?  

Nesta couldn't quite help herself as she started singing along with Bet On It, which always pumped her up. Plus, the High School Musical 2 soundtrack was brilliant, and she very rarely got to enjoy it blasting from the speakers because she was always too worried that Cassian would find out and laugh at her. But right now, even the idea of Cassian laughing at her couldn't bring her down.  

She finished filling the dishwasher up as What Time Is It? Came on shuffle, and Nesta couldn't even stop herself from dancing along to it as she cleaned the surfaces. She eventually just gave up even pretending that she was going to carry on cleaning, and dropped the spray and cloth, allowing herself to dance properly.  

She was having so much fun dancing, that she didn't hear the front door open, and she didn't notice Cassian leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, just watching Nesta with a look of awe on his face. Nesta turned around, and let out a little scream, not expecting Cassian to be stood there. She clutched her chest as she tried to calm down her heart rate, and turned the music down.  

"I wasn't expecting you to be home at," she glanced at her phone to check the time, "3 pm. How long have you been stood there?" She asked, almost hesitantly, bracing herself for the rude comments about how she's a child or laughing at her, or the number of other ways Tomas might have reacted. She could feel herself tensing up, as though she was about to receive a blow. With Tomas, she probably would've received a blow. She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that Cassian would never do that, but her instincts sometimes took over her body before her mind could talk her out of it.  

Cassian looked at her in that way of his, where she knew he was assessing the situation, what she was doing and how she was acting. She had always hated it, but before, it had made her angry, today, the anger made way for a new feeling. Today, she felt seen, like he could tell what was going on in her brain. It was unnerving, and she felt naked. She hated the way Cassian could just look at her and read her emotions when she tried so hard to keep those walls up.  

"I've not been home that long, don't worry." Cassian paused for a second, and then gave her a soft smile, that Nesta hated because it made her feel all weird and fluttery in her stomach. "I'm glad you've been having fun today. You deserve it."  

Nesta felt her cheeks heat at that. Somehow, his sincere and heartfelt comments always made her blush much easier than his dirty ones did. Maybe it was because he always made the dirty comments and jokes and she had gotten used to it, or maybe it was because she wasn't used to Cassian being so honest with his feelings for her, but she could feel her face heating.  

"Thanks, I've just had a nice day I guess," Nesta said with a shrug, trying to regain her calm and collected demeanour, but she knew she was failing. Thankfully, Cassian didn't comment on it and just smiled at her.  

"What have you been baking?" Cassian asked, his eyes lighting up as he noticed the cake in the oven. He raised his nose into the air, sniffing like a dog trying to figure out what she had put in the oven. 

Nesta raised her eyebrows, trying to look unimpressed. "It's a red velvet cake because I was craving one."  

Cassian's eyes went wide with excitement, as he rubbed his stomach. "Gods, I love red velvet cake," he said, closing his eyes and licking his lips thinking about the cake.  

Nesta couldn't help but track the movement of his tongue on his luscious looking lips. Suddenly she couldn't think properly, she couldn't think of anything but Cassian's lips. Cassian, noticing the silence, opened his eyes, and grinned when he realised where Nesta's gaze had been fixed.  

Before Cassian could open his mouth to say anything stupid that would annoy or embarrass Nesta, she put her music back up. Her Spotify had now started playing You Are The Music In Me. Nesta decided to throw all caution to the wind, and ask, "Dance with me?" 

She looked up at Cassian, trying not to let it show on her face how nervous she now was. Cassian's face went slack, almost exactly like it had when he had seen her in the shower. Nesta started pulling her hand away, but Cassian grabbed onto it and used it to pull her closer. Another soft smile covered his face as he looked down at her as they started swaying.  

"I didn't know you were a High School Musical fan." 

"It's the greatest film of our generation. Also, which kid didn't have a crush on Zac Efron?" 

Cassian let out a booming laugh. "That's valid I suppose, although I was more of a Camp Rock fan myself. I mean, have you seen those Jonas brothers?" 

Nesta froze in his arms,  glaring up at him. "Camp rock was good, but I can't believe you're saying it's better than High School Musical. I'm not sure I can go on a date with someone who thinks like that. Or even live with them. I might have to move out."  

Nesta couldn't help but let out a small laugh as she felt Cassian's grip tighten as she tried to move away. She looked up at his dumb face to see that he was pouting.  

"I'm sorry I have terrible taste in terrible films, please don't leave me for it." 

Nesta was quiet, staring, at his lips again, so big and pouty. Cassian realised once again what her eyes were focused on, and went quiet, his eyes dilating as he took in Nesta, and how close she was to him. Cassian's chest was definitely moving faster than it usually was, and Nesta could tell it wasn't from their terrible attempt at dancing to High School Musical. It sent a thrill down Nesta's spine, the fact that she had this kind of effect on Cassian. She pressed her body against his, still swaying to the music, although Cassian seemed to be just following her lead. She wasn't entirely sure he even knew what he was doing, he seemed too lost looking at Nesta.  

Cassian's breath hitched as Nesta pressed herself against him. He broke his gaze from her lips to look down at their connected bodies, noticing the way her boobs pressed against his chest, her hips pressing dangerously close to his. She knew if she shifted a little, she might even feel the hard outline of his dick, pressing against his trousers, but didn't dare push things that far.  

She tilted her head up, not sure if she wanted to kiss him, but knew she wanted her face closer to him. Cassian was frozen now, his chest wasn't moving at all. She wasn't entirely sure if he was even breathing. 

Perhaps it was a good thing, but she couldn't help but curse internally as the timer went off to let her know the cake needed to come out of the oven. It startled her enough that she quickly pulled back from Cassian, flushing as she did. She tried to distract herself with the cake, but she could feel Cassian's eyes on her.  

"I'll leave you to it," Cassian rasped out. Nesta couldn't help but feel a little proud, knowing that was because of her.  

She turned around and smiled, trying to will the blush on her cheeks to calm down. "Do you want me to call you when the cake is done?" 

"Nah it's fine, I'll have my slice after dinner. I'll cook since you made dessert." He winked, and then quickly scuttled off to his room. 

Nesta bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile too much when she noticed the strange way that Cassian walked, and realised that perhaps she had a bigger effect on Cassian than she had ever realised. She decided that she quite enjoyed having that kind of an effect on Cassian. 

Tags list (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from this list! Bolded tags don’t work for some reason)

@hizqueen4life @kelly-fasel @sannelovesreading @acourtofmarauders @maastrash @sjm-things @bookstantrash @cursebreaker29 @humanexile @iammissstark @stardelia @superspiritfestival @courtofjurdan @cass-nes @thewayshedreamed @queenestarcheron @sayosdreams @illyrianshadowhunter @blood-dreams

[addierose444]

A Typical Week: Spring 2021

Before getting into the actual content, I thought I would just point out that this is my 100th blog post! You can check out the full list here. 

As noted in my fall 2020 version of this post, my week is primarily dictated by my current course schedule. (To check out all of my past courses, click here). Furthermore, the way I write these posts is to focus on academics as they're a big part of my life, but also the most natural thing to write about publicly. This post should give you a realistic sense of the structure of my week and courses. I thought it may be useful to contrast expectations and reality when it comes to productivity. Early in the semester, I mapped out my idealized homework schedule around my meetings and assignment deadlines. The first row lists deadlines. The other rows are split by my meals (lunch and dinner). Even if I don’t strictly follow the schedule, spending the time to map things out is quite useful. To write about my real schedule, I actually looked back through data from my time tracking application, Toggl Track. I know this is a very long post, but it wasn’t really interesting enough to become a two-parter. 

A typical school day starts off with my 9:00 (or 9:10) alarm. I also often have a second alarm set for 9:15 as a backup. Here at college, I simply use the default clock app on my phone and have it play from my favorites playlist on Spotify. I very occasionally need to wake up earlier to finish up an assignment as midnight is my strict cutoff for doing work. I know a consistent sleep schedule is very important, but it’s definitely something I struggle with.

Monday:

My week begins with a 9:20 math class. The specific course is math methods which as previously explained is an applied math course from the physics department that is required for physics and engineering majors. We usually start off by going over the pre-class check in (PCCI) and/or other questions students have. This review is followed by a lecture on new material. Throughout the class, we work through example problems in breakout rooms (on Zoom whiteboards) and answer multiple-choice questions using the poll feature. (The poll questions are anonymous and ungraded). Partway through the class, we get a 4-minute break. One nice thing about this class is that we actually thoroughly go through the example problems when we regroup as an entire class. This is important because, without feedback, practice is of limited utility. Furthermore, going over the problem gives me a chance to get everything into my notes. The integration of lectures with practice is something I really appreciate about this course. In past math classes, the format has been a lecture followed by a worksheet of practice problems. While that model sometimes makes sense, I much prefer this integrated approach.  One issue with leaving practice until the end is that you sometimes run out of time and don’t catch knowledge gaps until the end of class. After math methods, I get a 20-minute break during which I often listen to the latest episode of The Daily (a short new podcast from the New York Times). 

Next up is my philosophy of logic class which starts with a few minutes of breathing and stretching. On the first day of class, I thought this was a really strange thing, but have come to appreciate it. Afterward, we go over any relevant announcements and sometimes debrief the previous class. This class is different from my other classes in that it is reading and discussion-based. We spend most of the class in the main room strengthening our understanding of the reading through full class discussions and mini-lectures. Even though the class is already very small (13 students), we also make use of breakout rooms to work through study questions. Our tests are pyramid style which means we spend one class period working independently and another class on the same questions in a small group. We also have short quizzes, called mini check-ins,  every few weeks. Next up is lunch during which I sometimes listen to a podcast or audiobook. You can check out some of my favorite podcasts and books of 2020 at the associated links.

After lunch, I have my computer systems lab. The teaching assistant of my lab section starts off with a quick introduction to the assignment. We then work independently and ask questions as they come up. Even though we don’t really work collaboratively the lab is sort of fun because it’s less formal than a regular class. For the first part of the semester, the lab assignments often took way longer than the allotted time (and sometimes longer than our projects) so I often spent more of the afternoon finishing up the assignment. Fortunately, the course staff was made aware of this issue and adjusted accordingly. Just for some context, this course is a UMass class which is why there is a whole course team and teaching assistants. To read more about Five College course registration click here. At Smith, while some classes have teaching assistants who help out during class, all of the classes are taught and run by our actual professors. We also have student tutors as an academic resource outside of class. To read more about academic support systems at Smith, click here. 

After finishing up my lab assignment, I start in on my math methods PCCI. A typical PCCI consists of reading a section or two of the textbook (written by our professor) and completing a short practice problem or so-called discovery exercise. Depending on the week, I either start in on my reading assignment for my computer systems class or logic class. At 4:00, I have my weekly one-on-one meeting with my supervisor for my ResLife job. Following the meeting, I relax by listening to music or an audiobook. At 5:00, I order, pick up, and eat my dinner. After dinner, I complete any remaining readings for my computer systems and logic classes. If I haven’t yet completed my lab assignment or have an exam the following day, I devote some of the night to circuits. Otherwise, I may work on a computer systems project or theory of computation assignment. 

Tuesday:

Tuesday’s are my busiest day of the week in terms of class hours. With that said, it’s nothing compared to my Thursdays last fall. I start Tuesdays off with my circuits class. During class, we learn new circuit theory and circuit analysis techniques. We also go through example problems. While we often run out of time to fully work through the extra practice problems in breakout rooms, fortunately, my professor posts videos going over those problems. After taking our feedback into account, we now get a break partway through the class. Each lecture covers a lot of material, so the brain/screen break is much appreciated. To check in on how the class is feeling about various concepts, our professor has us use the annotation feature on a scale from totally get it to totally lost. 

After circuits is my 20-minute break followed by my theory of computation lecture. The theoretical nature of the material means that it really is a lecture. While we obviously go through examples, there aren’t really practice problems as there would be in a math class. We use the chat to some extent in all of my classes, but to a greater degree in this course. Next up is lunch and a COVID test. At 1:40 I am back to circuits for the lab. Most of the labs are virtual with physical lab equipment, but a few have been in-person so that we could use special equipment. Ironically, one of our in-person labs was actually fully virtual in terms of lab equipment. (We were sitting on the lawn outside of Ford together and running circuit simulators on our laptops). Fortunately, we don’t usually need to stay until 4:30. I tend to just collect my data, ask some questions about the material, and then finish up the write-up at a later point in time. This time block is also the one used whenever we have an exam. 

I always start by doing the textbook reading for circuits. I don’t read super closely, but it’s still a good primer for the next class. In terms of other work, Tuesdays are a bit more unpredictable and really depend on how much I got done over the weekend. Specifically, while I usually finish my math methods assignment over the weekend, occasionally I need to finish it up on Tuesday evenings. Likewise, for circuits, I sometimes finish the last few problems on a Tuesday evening. At 7:00, I have a staff meeting with the other community advisors in my neighborhood and our supervisor. Our meetings usually take place over Zoom, but our most recent one was in-person with ice cream from Herrell’s which was a lot of fun. You can read about some other Northampton food locations (restaurants, cafes, and more) here. In weeks where I haven’t yet started my computer systems work, I do what I would usually have done on a Monday on a Tuesday. 

Wednesday:

Wednesdays are similar to Mondays without the computer systems lab and ResLife meeting. In the afternoon I often attend office hours for my theory of computation class to ask questions about the weekly assignment. Even though I don’t have my logic class until the following Monday, I usually just do the reading on Wednesday afternoon. On Wednesday evenings, I typically work through my circuits revisions. I also tend to do a good chunk of my computer systems coursework. This consists of watching lecture videos, taking notes, and taking lesson quizzes. Furthermore, I have definitely spent some Wednesday evenings working through computer systems projects. 

Thursday:

Thursdays are like Tuesdays without the circuits lab. Even though I have the whole afternoon free, unfortunately, I am sometimes having to finish up my theory of computation assignment. It’s also common for me to start working on the new math methods problem set. In the case of this Thursday, I played some guitar and then started writing this post. I also do my circuits reading for Tuesday and take the quick lab quiz. If I have any remaining computer systems coursework, I do that as well.  

Friday:

This semester I only have one class on Fridays, math methods. After class, I get a COVID test and an early lunch. I know it seems crazy how many free afternoons I have given that I am taking 22 credits and am a double STEM major. However, part of this is explained by my UMass computer systems course being asynchronous and the fact that I completed the one-credit companion course in C programming before my Smith semester started. My computer systems class was originally scheduled to meet Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons. Even though I wish the class was synchronous, the flexibility of an asynchronous class has been much appreciated. Furthermore, the class was in a terrible time block that would have caused me to miss most of house tea. Back to what a Friday afternoon looks like! After completing my PCCI for math methods, I often rewatch the lecture videos for computer systems (on double speed) and then take the weekly quiz. I next pick up tea snacks from Cutter-Z and attend house tea at 4:30. After tea, I order dinner and often eat it in the living room with housemates. Fridays are definitely my least productive day and I have definitely taken a few weekly quizzes on Saturday after having planned to take them on Friday. Instead of doing real work, I often spend Friday afternoons writing blog posts. As for this post, I wrote most of it yesterday but spent a good chunk of Friday afternoon on it as well. 

Saturday:

Despite my best efforts to have a consistent sleep schedule, I often sleep in on Saturdays until 10:00. I then have a leisurely hour or so of listening to an audiobook. At 11:00, I get an early lunch. As mentioned in the Friday description, I sometimes end up taking my weekly quiz for computer systems on Saturday. When I have tests in math methods, I typically take them on Saturday night. (The tests are timed but are self-scheduled over the given weekend which includes Friday). When there is not a math test, I often work on my math problem set in the afternoon. Every few weeks, I host POCheese at 4:00. This week we are actually going to be meeting at 5:00 for a ramen night! At 6:00 I have a uke club meeting over Zoom. In weeks where I have already finished my math problem set and don’t have a test, I start in on my circuits problem set.

Sunday:

Sundays start like Saturdays in that I often have a leisurely morning. At 11:00 I get a COVID test and an early lunch. Sundays are almost always devoted to my circuits. This includes working through the problems set, the lab writeup, or studying for an upcoming exam. If my Saturday wasn’t as productive as intended, I do the homework described in that section. At 6:00 I have a Society of Women Engineers (SWE) board meeting. At 7:00, I either lead a community meeting (part of my ResLife job) or attend house council. Afterward, I fill out my weekly report (also part of my ResLife job).

[sankt-brekker-the-demjin]

You Know, For Research Purposes - Tom Holland x Reader College!AU

Summary: Working on their research project, group mates Miles, Ned, Haz, Betty, Tom and Y/N grew closer together over the course of a few months. Also, how does Cheetos and ice cream taste together? ;)))

Word Count: 2,433

A/N: (gif not mine.) lolz hi! Look what boredom did to me.. I made a fanfic... [first time doing this idk what to do so there's that moving on. Hope u like it! Geronimo.]

Tom ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands with force. He banged his head lightly on the table. He looked back at his Lit folder and saw he still had half of it to finish. He closed it and decided he would do it later. Managing the research project and studying for exams were taking a toll on his body and his sanity. He got up and went to the get some water.

It was halfway through midnight. His parents and brothers were asleep on their rooms. Miles, Haz, Y/N, Betty and Ned - his Qualitative Research applied subject classmates were sprawled all over the living room, laptops shoved to their faces, bond papers in hand. It was a typical students' night. The group had gotten together at Tom's house, and planned to stay overnight.

Miles and Y/N have History 1 together, while Betty and Haz had Calculus. But other than that, this was the only classes they all had together. Being in college is no easy feat, proper time management was necessary. 

Ned had assigned each member to a specific part of the paper, and they've been at it since 8 pm. They all have to multitask and manage their time. Tom had almost finished his part of the paper, so he tried to do his Lit homework now.

Tom heard footsteps stomping on the floors. He turned and saw Y/N marching up to him with an annoyed look on her face and was about to speak but he cut her off.

"If you complain about the heat one more time, I'm give you a real reason to sweat," Tom set the cup of water with a smug look on his face.

She halted on her tracks and smacked the paper she brought on his arms. Tom chuckled, but didn't move.

"No, you idiot," Y/N rolled her eyes. "You might wanna fix that paper before you go off scaring people to death with that annoying face of yours."

His mouth twitched in amusement and took the stapled papers from her hands. "So you admit you've been looking at my face."

"You're so full of it," Y/N stepped around him and grabbed another glass, getting water from the tap.

Tom looked at the incorrect charts and tables he had made on the paper. He cursed under his breath. He had been working on it in the wee hours of last night. Spontaneous typing, no pit stops on spelling errors and everything else, just got it done.

"The original file is on my computer upstairs," he groaned. "I'll have to re-do this again."

"You do that," she clicked her tongue. "And I'll just chill here by your fridge for a moment."

Y/N opened the fridge and took the remaining slice of cake laid on a plate.

"That's mine -" Tom protested.

"Not anymore." Y/N ate the cake.

He scowled and moved to close the door of the fridge. Y/N leaned her back on the door. There they were, a few inches away from each other. Tom stood seething; Y/N chewed the cake with an amused expression. She wiped the frosting on her lower lip with her tongue reflexively. Before he realized it his eyes wandered to her lips.

Tom inched his face closer, eyes darting over to her eyes and lips. "If you don't stop biting your lips ..."

"What are you gonna do?"

Tom remained quiet but clenched his jaw.

Y/N chuckled, "You're all talk and no action."

Heavy footsteps echoed on the hallway to the kitchen, gaining both their attention away from each other. Tom whipped his head to the of the voice and shot him a look.

"I told you 7000 times, a chicken is a bird -" Haz bursted into the room with a phone clutched to his ears, pausing when he caught sight of Tom and Y/N. "D'you have a charger I could borrow?" Haz covered his phone with his hands.

"I have one in my backpack." Y/N said.

Haz nodded, talking again to his sister on the phone about chickens. He walked back to the living room, waiting for Y/N to follow him.

Y/N stopped by the table where Tom had been working on, and pointed at his paper. "I can't finish my part if you can't finish yours." Seeing as his paper's original file was on his computer upstairs, she grabbed his laptop without waiting for him to reply. "Imma borrow this ... Thanks."

She went back to the living room, laptop on hand.

"And don't look at my browser history!" She heard Tom call back from the kitchen.

"Wouldn't dare," she countered in a mocking tone.

As the weeks passed, they started collecting data on the field. They went through one institution to another, gathering reports and statistics, and validating it with professionals. Then after that it was all a blur. They submitted the paper to Mrs. Luxley and was graded, only given back to them for minor revisions.

The gang decided to spend that same night they passed the assignment on Tom's house again, just like they did when they were still making the paper. Tom's parents had gotten used to them staying over, and Sam always tried to flirt with Betty when he was around. 

Ned and Haz raced to Tom's bedroom. Ned threw himself on the bed first. "God, I've never felt the bed being this good," he sighed and melted with pleasure. All those sleepless nights they've had finally paid off.

Haz hit him with a pillow. "Move over!"

Y/N laid on the couch, feet perched on top of Tom's lap, getting comfortable. Betty and Miles slept on the carpets of Tom's living room. They just sort of crawled to the floor in delight and just stayed there, too tired to move anywhere else. Haz came back to the living room, holding a bottle of champagne on his hands from the Hollands' cupboards.

He cheered. "Let's celebrate!"

But they celebrated the victory by sleeping out for an entire day spread all over the Hollands' house.

Even though their project was finished, the lot still remained close with each other. They spent times at Miles' favourite diner by the corner of the campus during their collective free time.

And last week, Haz's sister gave birth to a pretty baby girl. Haz invited them over and they all came to join the little house party his sister threw. The group counted on this as the official celebration of their hard work.

It was a Thursday afternoon. Family and friends chatted and caught up with each other in the Osterfield's backyard. Dream by Fleetwood Mac could be heard playing on the living room speakers.

Tom was talking with his dad. Betty and Ned sat at the garden chairs talking to one of Haz's brothers. Those two really were people persons. Miles and Y/N laughed at a hilarious history joke their professor rambled about. Tom tried to pay them no mind, though his glance drifted to them every now and then. His dad eventually noticed the shift in his mood, but decided to ignore it because his mum came to them, carrying Haz's niece. Tom accepted the baby to his arms while his mum and dad went to the kitchen.

Lily, the smol bean's eyes crinkled with joy and giggled. Her chubby little hands reached out to him. Tom stuck his tongue out affectionately her. He turned his head to the low whistle he heard.

"Wow... Daddy," Y/N smirked.

That day was all fun and games, but by the end it they still had school stuff to catch up on. A few weeks later, they decided to cram in the library.

Nothing feels better than suffering with acads together friends.

The group sat in a table by the corner, immersed in their own world. Tom went to the bookshelves to look for an autobiography book his proffesor suggested. Ned was compiling essays on his laptop. Miles was reading a book by Neil Gaiman. Haz and Betty were doing their Calculus homework.

Y/N's chin rested on her hands, staring blankly at her laptop screen. A straight line blinked repeatedly on the ends of the only sentence she typed.

What the fuck |

She just needed a head start on this critique paper. Nothing too heavy, just one paragraph to kick it all into place. That's where it's always hard. The first line. So now she's stuck with cursing. Before Y/N realize it, she's slumped her face down to the wooden table with a light bang. The group lifted their eyes to her, asking if she was alright. She shoved her thumbs up above her head, and they went back to what they what they were doing.

Haz who sat on her right, patted her back. "Same here, sis," he fought back a yawn.

Her eyes felt heavy. Then she groggily looked up to the little 'thunk' dropped on the table.

"Oh, great you're alive," she muttered before setting her face back on the table again.

Tom pulled his chair beside her. "Miss me already? I was barely gone for a few minutes."

"I'm so blessed to be with your presence," she stated in a monotonous voice.

Tom snorted. "Your professor is really gonna give you an A+ with those colorful words. 'What the fuck,' short but sweet."

She looked up and stuck her tongue out. Seeing his face has started to get old ... she tried convincing herself that, though.

They did their business. Ever so often, Y/N and Tom's elbows would brush against each other. Y/N had her earphones on, listening to her shuffled playlist on Spotify. Tom heard muffled tunes, and turned his head closer.

"What are you listening to?" He whispered; his breath fanned the side of her neck that sent chills up her spine.

She didn't look at him and instead continued to write key points to make on her essay. She spoke, her voice low. "This one's called Uncomfortable by Wallows."

He grinned and leaned even closer. "Can I listen?"

From across the table, Ned took 10 bucks from his wallet and shoved it on Betty’s hand. She pumped her fist in a silent triumph.

Y/N shifted her head to look at him, only to find his cute, devilishly handsome face inches away from hers. If she would tilt her head a little... their lips would touch. They locked eyes for a second, before she plucked one earphone and gave it to him.

He cocked his head, liking the song. Minutes passed. The only noises were from turning book pages, soft patter of keys on the laptops, and bits of hushed voices encompassed the area.

An hour later, Y/N felt herself getting hungry and went out to buy food, Betty tagging along. They ate outside since the library was strict on the 'NO eating policy.' Not even other drinks are allowed, only water. The others stayed behind. Then Betty came back to her seat.

"Where's Y/N?"

Betty sat on her chair, "She's outside, still eating."

Tom nodded and felt himself getting hungry, too. He opened his backpack and took a bag of Cheetos he stashed. He stood and said to them he was gonna eat outside. He went out, and spotted her leaning on a pillar, scooping ice cream out of a cup.

"I'm starving," he stood beside her.

"We've been there for ages," she scooped another spoonful of mint chocolate ice cream she got from the shop across the street.

Tom munched on his Cheetos. He turned to look at her happily savoring her ice cream. He moved for Y/N's ice cream cup but she swerved it out of his reach.

"Get your own," she swatted his arms away.

A thought crossed his mind. It reminded him of the last time they did this at his kitchen, over a slice of cake. And how they've been so close...

For the past few months, he's gotten a strange feeling whenever Y/N was around. Like there's an electric buzz in him, his heart would warm up at the sight of her. He couldn't stay away from her, and he wants to know her better, and feel her and just be there right beside her. He couldn't explain it.

Tom grinned at the memory, chucking a piece of Cheetos on his mouth. He stepped forward. "D'you wanna know how Cheetos and mint chocolate chip ice cream tastes like together?" he leaned closer to her face; his breath hot against her skin. His gaze shifted down to her parted lips. "You know, for research purposes..."

"Hmm?" She held her eyes up on his own gleaming brown ones. "Probably good. Anything's good with mint chocolate ice cream."

"Yeah?" His hands reached out to move the strands of her hair away from her face. "Wanna test it out?"

She shrugged.

Tom found his hand on the back of her neck and slammed his lips to hers. Y/N's eyes fluttered shut. He tasted full of that cheesy goodness. And her, a heavenly taste of vanilla and the aroma of mint. Her arm stretched out to keep the ice cream cup away. She parted from his lips to set the cup down onto the pillar. He wrapped his arms to her waist, pulling her flush against him. With her now empty hands, she ran her fingers on his soft brown curls. She tugged at the strands, eliciting a low guttural sound from him muffled by her mouth on his.

He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead on hers, breathless. "We should get back inside to do ... stuff."

"No no. Don't care." She pulled the back of his neck and closed their distance again. He chuckled.

Y/N loved the way their mouths danced to a rhythm, flavors mixing together from the forgotten taste-testing session, now a different kind of session.

A hand still on her waist, the other cupped her cheeks and tilted her chin to give him more access. She wrapped both her arms around his neck, welcoming warm the feelings burning inside her.

They parted, but still inches away from each other. Y/N bit his lower lip. Tom hissed in surprise but she kissed it better.

"So ... what do you think?" He murmured in a low voice.

"Mmm, I like it." Cheetos and ice cream forgotten.

"Yeah?" He grinned at her. "Me too."

Seconds lapsed. Neither of them moved, still stuck in a more romantic version of a staring contest.

"I like you." Tom's heartbeat raced.

She grinned back at him. "I like you, too. Like 3000. I like you that much."

-

Roll the end credits.

[naivesilver]

6, 10, 17 and 20 ;^)

AAAAAH thank you my friend 💗💗💗💗💗

Meta Asks For Writers

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

Gonna be really predictable for a sec and say Lampwick. Not only because he is such the bare bones of a character that one can build off him to their heart's delight and not be afraid of contradicting the text, but also there is such an innate irreverence to him that it's almost mandatory of him to give scathing opinions about anything and anyone. Compared to say, Pinocchio, who in any universe's post-canon content I headcanon to be more guarded and more prone to sugarcoat the narrative even to himself, Lampwick demonstrates right away that he doesn't give a shit, so his stream of consciousness MUST be the stuff of legends. It's very entertaining to play around with insults and nicknames and also to rebrand past events to suit his personal view on them.

10. How would you describe your writing process?

Both extremely chaotic and terribly rigid all at once? LMAO the thing is, most story ideas spark as a single scene or cluster of scenes from my daydreams (the best ones, as I've said often, always come mid-practice session) that I feel the need to describe through specific words and let out into the world, so it could literally be ANYTHING and come out of ANYWHERE. I have been inspired by stuff ranging from my sister showering with her child to herding my teammates around a ship to bloody Spotify shuffle, and you'd never guess which ones of these ideas became angst-riddled fics and which turned into crack instead.

But as soon as I open the Word document, then I become neurotic. I have mad respect for those people who can write shit out of order, because I could NEVER. Scenes must be written from start to finish, and even editing starting from the bottom up is something I still struggle with. It breaks the creative flow or whatever, I have given up on making sense of my brain. If there's a scene I like less, then I force myself to power through it to get to the good stuff, otherwise I know I'll never write it at all.

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

I'm not sure actually??? I don't really know what transpires from my work, tbh. Probably a cockier, more melodramatic person than I am in real life, which is valid considering what I write, but doesn't reflect just how anxious I am about my writing.

I think what doesn't always reach the reader is that when I write, sometimes I black out for my own good AND theirs. There are times where I know that if I try to edit a passage any further, I will begin hating the whole work and maybe elect to toss it away, so a less polished scene to me seems a small price to pay for saving an entire fic. I can always go back and fix mistakes later, but last year it took me months to get back on track after my little perfectionist crisis, and I'm not going there again, thank you very much. That's why I only ask for typo alerts at the very end of the notes every time.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

OKAY THIS IS ONE I WAS REALLY EAGER TO RECEIVE so I have a couple different things I want to share that I hope won't sound too stupid

in my OUAT fics I always take particular care of how characters refer to each other and/or the entire matter of names. In a world where separate names address separate identities all within the same person, the way two people call one another is fundamental when it comes to expressing their personalities and relationship. Like, take Marco, for example - in the show Snow calls him Marco and he likely refers to himself as Marco, because that's who he's been for them for 28 years, but I'll never make August/Pinocchio refer to him as anything but Geppetto, because for his son he's never been anything else. Similarly, characters' feelings about their curse names are taken into account for this: so in my Thousand Problems verse (the cursed!Pinocchio AU) Pinocchio is only ever called such by everyone except Lampwick, because he has bad, triggering memories about being Giuseppe, and Leroy goes by Leroy even if his gf would rather be called Nova because in Storybrooke being Leroy means more than being Grumpy. I hope it makes sense?

this is way more niche, but there is a sort of recurring theme in all my Pinocchio-related stories regarding Pinocchio himself and leadership/kingship. Not only because in the book he has this magnetic personality that attracts both respect and betrayal and turns him into the center of every plot event, but also because the book itself begins denying the presence of a king - there's no king, to the readers' dismay, only a piece of wood. I have read so much meta about this that I WISH had been translated in English because it still makes me scream and I'd love to share it with everyone. So even if it's not always intentional, the symbolism around this juxtaposition has become sort of a background activity for me - the harvest crown scene of Two Stars is a nod to this, as is Lampwick kneeling in the AU where he survives and the Fairy's desired endgame in the fic I devoted to her. There'll be probably more in the future, but I don't want to spoil it or jinx my ability to finish it jskhfafjhjl

[doe-rose-q]

Part 2 of my transcript of this podcast continued from my previous post is below. Part 3 is in following post..

***************************************

N: “I’m not good with sitting still. You know what I mean?”

E: “Yeah.”

N: “I’m always doing something.”

E: “Yeah. I mean that’s one thing when I was thinking about... when I was around you more, working on the show, was that you were always like, you know, be sitting down to dinner and then like noticing this salt shaker and this fork should be like next to each other in a certain way and then you can take a picture. You know what I mean? Like I remember that about you like always making something... I guess. Or like looking for the art in it... or the picture or you know... which, um...”

N: “It’s A.D.D or something... I don’t know what it is.”

E: “I... ADMIRED it because I feel like I can be so SLOW. You know it’s like, I can like, think like... I love making stuff, but I can sort of like piece it together over weeks and then I finally like do... like in my head somehow. Like I have to like I’m like more like a turtle, you know? Just like...” *giggles*

N: “Yeah, but you make music.”

E: “Yeah.”

N: “I mean we... we all wish we could write songs and perform. Like you know... you make music.”

E: *giggles*

N: “We all wish we were musicians... you know what I’m saying? So...”

E: “But I was curious—have you had a time when you like woken up and just been like blank? Like, ‘I don’t know what to make now.’

Or when you felt like maybe like it didn’t have a place to live or something like that...?”

N: “I don’t always think of what ideas there can be, but I always sort of find myself doing it anyway. You know, I have journals and journals of just scribbly images that ‘One day I’m gonna put in a short film!’

Like, we used to have this art gallery in New York on Bowery and Kenmare called Collective Hardware. The ground floor was a creature effects shop. The street level was a gallery and then—we had the whole building—so we had different painters there like Ronnie Cutrone and Erik Foss and all these painters and glass blowers and filmmakers and you know, all this stuff. I’d be like, “Oh, you got the lights! You got the camera! Can you make me a Richard Nixon mask?’

And then we’d make things. So we were always... sort of... making things all the time. And it was kinda like... like a Warhol Factory for a second. At least we thought it was. And then like, you know, everything in New York, it became a party house...”

E: *giggles*

N: “... and just burned to the ground. But I’ve always had a bunch of things happening and sometimes I short-circuit a little bit...? But uh... when I wake up, it takes me like an hour to wake up, before I realize like where I’m at. You know what I mean? So... it doesn’t matter how much coffee I drink, like... I’m just like, ‘What? What?’

Uh...”

E: “Yeah.”

N: “I have a lot of [unintelligible]... I have thousands and thousands...”

E: “I know, I do too, I hear you. Yeah, I have a lot of like, lists that don’t maybe get finished quite yet.”

N: “Yeah. Or you-you’ll read later and you’re like, ‘This is total shit.’

E: *giggles*

N: “... Like, what is this?”

E: “So, if you remember before ‘Walking Dead,’ now I feel like it’s been a part of our lives for so *giggles* long now. You know, before that, you’re doing photography and all kinds of artwork, acting, you know, modeling, all this stuff. With the show, it does open you up to a much bigger audience and with the success of the show, like lots of eyes on you and lots of opportunity. Do you think that when the show started, did that change how you make things at all or-or not at all?”

N: “I don’t feel like it shifted my vision in things, Uh... I have a new photography book that just came out. It has all the proceeds going to COVID and stuff. So I don’t think it changed my ideas or the amount of things I was doing, but I KNOW because I have a big ‘Walking Dead’ base, that I can sell more books, or I can get a show here or there... you know, there’s a lot of people that I like who do more than one artistic thing. Like Richard Butler from Psychedelic Furs is an AMAZING painter... so you can do more than one thing. I DO know that if I have a show in LA, it’ll be packed and I think sometimes... you know I have a lot of artist friends and they’re like, “Fuck you,” and I’m like, ‘Whaddaya want me to do?’

But... it also allows me to promote other people more...? Which is really great. Or do it for a cause like COVID, for PPE, for you know, frontline workers... you know, all that stuff. So... I DO get to do that, but as long as I continue to give back that way, it doesn’t bother me.”

E: “Yeah. I mean, I see that in you.”

N: “I will say that being on the show made me... like, ‘I wanna do the camera! I wanna do the editing! I wanna pick the music! Like, I wanna do the lighting!’”

E: *giggles*

N: ‘“You know like, when you start doing the acting thing, you’re like, ‘Yeah, what do you want? What do you want me to do?’

I mean, the first job I did, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I still sometimes don’t know what to do. But...”

E: “Yeah.”

N: “You know. You’re like, ‘Is that good enough? Did... I... can I go home?’

Once you’ve been on it for a while, like you’ll... you know, we’ve done so many episodes of that show, so you’re like... ‘Oh this is what’s gonna happen here.’

And you sit there and you watch it and you’re like, ‘Wa-wa-wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!’

You know. I remember like Tova... you know... Tova, who’s an amazing actress.”

E: “Yeah!”

N: “She would do stuff like... she’d be at the window, looking out the window, and she would slowly turn to address people. She did it on purpose. Then you’d see the episode and she’s like, ‘Bom!’

They’d like cut all that slow stuff out and she was like, ‘What the fuck?! Like...’”

E: “Yeah...”

N: “‘...That was a dramatic turn for effect and it was supposed to be a thing...’

And they said, like, ‘’Cause we gotta have a commercial.’

Or WHATEVER.”

E: “Yeah.”

N: “It’s made me wanna edit. It’s made me wanna do a bunch of shit.”

E: “Yeah. You start to realize that you create your performance, but then they’ll fit it into, like, THEIR world. Like, they’re also creating a thing and they’re fitting you into the world.”

N: “My mom was my soc... she-she coached my soccer team...”

E: “Mmm.”

N: “... when I was like in fifth grade or something. My-there should be a movie about my mom, to be honest. But when she was the soccer coach of my team, like you know, I played forward! Our goalie would let a ball go, I’m like, ‘You’re out! Mom—I wanna play goalie!’

I was bouncing around the field trying to do it all like an asshole. Sometimes I feel like I’m still that asshole.”

E: “Is your mom like super creative too?”

N: “Yeah.”

E: “And like artistic?”

N: “Shit, she did a whole bunch of stuff. She was a Playboy bunny for a while. She sold coffins for a while. Uh, she called them ‘eternal beds’... which is really crazy. Uh, she taught school, she taught in the Bronx, she taught in uh... Queens, she’s taught in uh... all over the place. She’s taught in Erbil... in Iraq... uh, in an American school there.”

E: “Mm-hm.”

N: “She just sent me pictures of uh... I have a relative that’s in Blackwater. They kinda watched my mom while she was over there and would touch base with me to see how she was doing. But... she just sent me all these pictures of her... uh... you know... in this underground tea places in Iraq. And uh... I remember when Sarah Wayne Callies went to Iraq to do some sort of charity thing. I was like, ‘Oh you should e-mail my mom. She lives over there.’

And she’s like, ‘What?!’

And I was like, ‘Oh yeah, she’ll show you around *chuckles* or whatever.’

And Sarah told me that she got there and my mom said, ‘Meet me at this... at this... roundabout.’

And you know, Sarah’s face is all covered up and doing ‘the thing.’ And *chuckle* my mom was there with her blonde hair flowing, going, ‘Sarah! Hey! It’s Maryann!’

And Sarah’s like, ‘Oh my GOD!’

And then my mom takes her to, like, this place, and this guy’s got a gun, and he’s like showing my mom around, he’s like her escort...? You know. She’s interesting. But she’s always had her... I mean her artistic thing has been living life. Like she knows how to live life. She just adopted a... this crazy-looking pitbull from this rescue place. And it has like this huge fuckin’ head and it has these underbite teeth that kinda come up like this. And she’s like, ‘Look at my new dog!’

And I was like, ‘It looks like Predator.’

She’s good at, like, living her life.”

E: “Yeah...!”

N: “My dad was artistic. Uh... you know... he used to... like, act in the Skinner[?] School and stuff like that. Yeah...”

E: “Oh, okay.”

N: “But they’re all...” *whistles*

E: *chuckles* That’s good though. That’s material. *laughs* That makes life fun.”

N: “Yeah.”

E: “Or interesting... I guess.”

N: “Definitely interesting.”

E: “Yeah.”

N: “It was definitely interesting growing up.”

E: “Okay, so tell me, like... way back you told me this story and I don’t know if you’ve been other podcasts talking about your acting and stuff like that.”

N: “I don’t think so.”

E: “Well I know... I remember you telling me a story about how you got an agent by like, going to a party, and then someone said, ‘Do you wanna be in the play?’

And you were the understudy, and then the guy just happened to have to call out, and so then you were in the play, you didn’t have to be the understudy, and then an agent... and then that’s how it all started with acting. Umm... *laughs* Did I just tell your story for you?!” *giggles*

N: *chuckles* “You’re right. No-no... you’re exactly right. That’s exactly what happened.”

E: *laughs* “But I remember you telling me that, but it’s like, tell me about moving to LA, ‘cause were you pursuing art, and just like, painting, and stuff like that FIRST before you started kind of getting into more like, acting and modeling? Tell me how you knew... like, to follow that... impulse, I guess.”

N: “The modeling thing... I did a Prada campaign, so... early ‘90s, I followed a girl to LA. I followed her there, she immediately hooked up with her ex-boyfriend, I think they got married in... it was either Australia or Hawaii—someplace like that. And... I started running with this crowd that were going to Otis Parsons. There was a friend of mine who... he’d go out to, I believe it was Arizona. He’d come back with his pick up truck with these big pieces of rock... and they were kind of orange-ish, but when you’d polish them, they kind of looked white with like, orange fire inside...? It was this really cool rock. And he gave me some and I was like, doodling and painting, and making sculptures out of wire and baby dolls(!?), and everything else I could find. I was living... I was living in a friend’s garage at one point. I could weld in there, I could use hammers in there, and I just.. had a sofa in there. And I’d literally sleep in his garage and make art all day. And that’s kind of what I wanted to do. This friend of mine with the rock... he... he gave me this rock and was teaching me how to cut it. His graduating class... they were gonna have a show downtown in a big parking lot, and I had taken this friend of mine... this girl, Dia, at the time—her name’s still Dia *chuckles*—and I, took this skinny little girl... and I plastered her body and elongated her at the elbows, and at the knees, and I had her in all these positions on these big French doors that I got out of this magazine—I think it was called ‘The Recycle.’ And um... and I took this set of French doors and I put her body in these different positions on these French doors, and I welded all these different gauges of wire all over it, and sort of souffléd her inside, and I had these, like, old time-y glass wig heads that I had on there with lights in them and it was all broken and fucked up... you know. And it, I don’t know... I-I used to just do shit like that, so... and...”

E: “Do you have pictures of those?”

N: “I have a SLIDE of them. I... I have them on a slide. They would be in a box somewhere. So we did this show at this restaurant and... what he did was way cooler then what I did. He had like these tiles in the floor and he was DJ-ing, and he had these liquids underneath—that when he’d hit a baseline, the liquids would come up, and then it would dissolve into one color. So every time he’d hit this, that’s how you walked in into this place. And in the back... they had like this little VIP room sort of thing... and I had these seven things up there. I was too nervous to go, so I didn’t go. I had these two girls who had a truck put them up for me. And then uh... they called me later and was like, ‘Dude... dude, you-you didn’t go to the show, but you’d go in there and there would be a party vibe! It was great. And they’d go back to the little room where your shit was and they’d come back like... uhhhhhh.’

And I was like, ‘Yay! We did it!’

And uh... the guy who was the teacher of the Otis Parsons class saw that show... and invited me to be part of... the graduation thing. And so I cut this rock and I made... sort of these horns that come down and twist, and they sort of made a vagina—with like a clitoris here with the fuckin’ horns that come up like this, and it SOLD... like right away at the graduation class.”

E: “Wow!”

N: “So these guys would teach me things and I would learn through them and we sort of would put all these shows up all over LA. Very unprofessional... you know... you’d lug your own shit, you’d hang your own shit, you’d take your own shit down, you’d pass out flyers... and you know, that’s at a time in in LA when there were no art shows. You know... you’d have to have like an open bar and a band play to get people to go to your art show. And so I started running with THESE guys, I started living in this guy’s garage... I was just making art all the time. I got a job at a motorcycle shop. THAT ended in a fist fight. That night, a friend of mine took me to a party up in the Hills... like a Hollywood-type thing. I got super drunk, started... went up on the stairs, started yelling at a bunch of people. And I had these... I had this girl’s sunglasses on and the arm was broken, and every time I’d scream, the glasses would fall off, and I’d be like... you know. I was just... I was just AN IDIOT, right? And somebody said, ‘Hey, you wanna be in a play? You ever thought about being an actor?’

And I was like, ‘Fuck you. I’m an artist! Fuck you!’

And uh... and a friend of mine was like... like, ‘Who... who’s that girl you’re talking to???’

And I was like, ‘Ahh... somebody... *choking, gurgling sound*...’

We all went to this place called Damiano’s on Fairfax which used to be a pizza place. I think it’s like a fancy meatball shop or some shit now. We went there, and they called the director of that play. And she came and met us and I was like, ‘What the fuck?’

And she said, ‘Look, I’ll pay you to be the understudy. You’ll make money just being an understudy. You’ll never even have to go on stage.’

And... so I went to all these rehearsals and did the whole thing...”

E: “We’re you having fun? Like at the rehearsals and stuff? We’re you like, ‘Oh this is...’

N: “No.”

E: “No.”

N: “No. I fucking hated it.”

E: “Oh.” *chuckles*

N: “I fucking hated it. I... I saw a bunch of like... actors trying to be up front, say more stuff. And I was just like, ‘You guys, you guys go do that. I’m gonna be in the back. Hopefully this will be over in a month... then I can go home.’

And... the first night, the guy that I was the understudy for didn’t come, and I had to go out there and it wasn’t a huge part, but it was... I kinda bopped in and out. And... I went out there and kinda did it, I’m sure I sucked, but there was a lady in the audience who worked at William Morris who started side-pocketing me, hip-pocketing me... or whatever that’s called. And uh... started sending me on things without signing me...?”

E: “Mm hm.”

N: “And I started booking things. So... that’s how that happened.”

E: “What was your first job?”

N: “My first job was a job called ‘Floating.’ It was a movie... uh... we shot it in Maine. It was about... this kid who’s at the age when all his friends are going to college and stuff and he’s stuck at home taking care of his father, who was in a drunk driving accident, wheelchair, his father fuckin’ hates him, he’s super miserable... this kid’s like sort of, the world, his girl leaves to go to college, his friends are leaving, and he’s just kinda stuck in this little town on a lake. And this is right at the time like my dad was dying, right? I literally had no idea what the fuck I was doing. It was cold, all this shit happens, a friend of mine dies—he drowns in this lake that we’re swimming in at night... it’s just all this fucking shit is piling on my head. There’s a scene where the father, he wheels himself out on this deck and I’m out there bawlin’ my eyes out. He wheels himself out, he kinda... stands up out of the wheelchair, he gives me a hug... it was a big deal in the movie. The director goes... he goes, ‘So, what do you... what do you wanna do to prepare for this?’

And was like, I’m like, ‘I have no idea.’

And he said, ‘Well you can do this, do this...’

And I go, ‘You know what? Can you just give me a phone?’ ‘Cause my dad was in a wheelchair at the time. And I was like, ‘Can you just give me a phone and like give me five minutes and then just come get me?’

And he’s like, ‘Yeah.’

So he gives me his cell phone and I call my dad. Just had, like, a normal conversation with him and they came and they got me and I was like, ‘Gotta go.’

And I went out and I did the scene. Like, I cried so much... there was so much like, snot came out of my face. They made me do it again... you know, we did it like three times. And then we broke for lunch and I kinda went back to my little room and took a nap, and uh... one of the grips came up afterwards and he goes... and we all ate in this tent with these heaters... and he comes up and he goes, ‘Hey, look... I know this is your first movie... blah, blah, blah, blah...,’ he goes, ‘But I wanna tell you, like, in the tent, nobody really spoke. They kinda just ate their food.’

And I was like, ‘OH.’ I was like, ‘You can do THAT with this???’

So it’s like... this grip that I didn’t know kinda like walked me through it and I was like, ‘Oh. This isn’t a bunch of models walking around, saying words. This... you can DO shit with this’... right?

And I feel like I’m always trying to chase that feeling—you what I mean?”

E: “Yeah.”

N: “Like... whatever THAT was. So... that’s kinda how it started. And that was my first movie.”

E: “I think when you have those moments where you’re like, ‘Oh I really was able to connect to... something special.’

Or like, tell someone else’s story, but using MY brain and MY experiences and uh... AFFECT people in a certain way. I like that you said like now, just like... ‘chasing that’... like trying to find that in other projects, and... and I guess in what you make too, like art... other art that you make.”

N: “Yeah, I used to hate when people said they were artists. I hate—‘Well, I’m an artist.’

I’m like... ‘Art, fart, smart, gart... like what the fuck is wrong with you?’”

E: “What are you looking forward to most now? I mean, you have so many projects... it’s like I don’t know. Is there something you’re especially, like, looking for now when you’re putting your future together, I guess?”

N: “Yeeeah... there’s being on the production side of things is pretty wild. I’m excited to get some pics of the music, and the artist, and do it through other people... I’m really into that... thing. Um... I-I actually MADE an album...”

E: “You did???”

N: “... A music album. *chuckles* Yeah.”

E: “Oh that’s, did you? You wrote all the songs and stuff...? Or... did you? Have some-...?”

N: “I didn’t write any of it and I didn’t really sing it. It’s more of a spoken word thing.”

E: “Yeah.”

N: “But I have this friend of mine, uh... this guy—Howie B.—who’s a big music producer. I think he used to do like Siouxsie and the Banshees, Bjork, U2, Brian Eno... like all of ‘em, right? This little guy, like... he’s a dude that I met in Switzerland in an igloo, and I’m like, ‘Who the fuck are you?’

He’s like, ‘Who the fuck are YOU?’

E: “Wait... why were you in an igloo? *giggles* In Switzerland?” *laughs*

N: “I… I went there with some friends of mine... who are big musicians. And uh, one night, you know, we were... ‘In the horse thing! The horse is taking you down the mountain with the jingle bells, and it’s nighttime...’

I ended up sitting across from this... this dude—Howie B.—who’s like... he’s a really interesting dude, right? Like uh... but anyway, I was like, ‘Who are you?’

And he was like, ‘Who are you?’

And we just hit it off, and then uh... you know, we ended up in this big chalet and it was like... like... really rich people in there like—🎶’I’m walking on sunshine’🎶—up on the stage and I was like, ‘Ugggh! These rich people are driving me fucking crazy!’

It was like... he kinda talked me through the evening as I was like, ‘FUCK! This place!’ You know?

And then uh... we became friends. But... he was like, ‘I want you to do this spoken word thing for me.’

I’m like, “Dude... what am I? Like... like William Shatner??? Like I can’t do this.’

And... it came out really good. Like, he’s a really talented musician. He’s the guy that like big bands call and they’re like, ‘What’s gonna be cool next year?’

And he’ll be like, ‘This is what’s gonna hit next year.’

You know? Like he’s THAT guy. That Bjork song: 🎶’If you complain once more, you’ll meet an army of me.’🎶

He wrote that to get her ex-boyfriend to stop calling their house ‘cause he was dating Bjork at the time. Like, he’s a badass. Anyway, so we did it—we’re recording an album. And then we recorded more, and recorded more... and we got more songs and got enough for an album. But he wants to do a TOUR.”

E: “I was just gonna say... when are you gonna do, like, a gig?” *giggles*

N: “You know, I did this thing a long time ago where, uh, some friends of mine—they wore these Mexican wrestling masks and they would DJ in New York and I’d wear this... this panda bear mask. And I... would... there was a program where you can take images... and you can shoot them, you can dissect the images, and overlap them, and shoot them, and fuck with them, and you can shoot them on different projectors at the same time. So they would DJ and I was Pandido and I would DJ the images sort of to their thing. So we’re talking about doing stuff like that. While we’re doing... he’s doing the music and I’m doing the spoken word thing. And, you know... making it a whole visual clusterfuck of whatever that would be. But, you know—COVID hit, so... That’s something I kind of wanna do because I’ve never done anything like that before.”

E: “Yeah, I wanna hear your album! I mean...”

N: “It’s out!”

E: “It is???”

N: “It’s out. It’s uh... it’s, it played, it did pretty well in France. It was on the radio and shit. It’s so good...”

E: “Yeah, will you email it to me or something so I can...?”

N: “I will. Yay!”

[blue-eyes-and-auburn-hairr]

Second Chances Chp. 4

Disclaimer: Okay, I got more notes than I thought I ever would, so while the world is quarantined...I wrote another part.

Warning: Mention of death, fluff, I don’t want to mislead anyone this will very much be a slowburn

Summary: Can you imagine being widowed at such a young age to a man you thought you’d have forever with? On the anniversary of his death, on top of a mountain, Thea and Chris begin their new journey together.

(I want to experiment with a different perspective if its trash I’ll redo this chp. )

Thea had no idea why it was so hard to ghost this guy. It should be easy, they hung out for half a day a week ago. He should already have her out of his head, but no he still continues to call. 

“Ms. Mulligan I finished reading the chapter what should I do now?” Thea’s 3rd period reading support class was currently working on finishing their novel. She would typically read to them but her mind had been scattered all week. 

“Kay, why don’t you draw a picture of your favorite chapter so far on the smartboard?” Thea prompts, knowing that Kay loves to draw and she really is interested in the novel...even if she won’t admit it. 

“Can I listen to music, puhleaseee?” She spins around with a great big smile on her face. 

“As long as you don’t blast it and its not that Billie Eye Lash person,” Thea rolls her eyes with a smirk knowing what would follow. 

“Mully, you’re embarrassing yourself you know her name is Billie Eilish because I’ve stalked your Spotify playlist, right Kai?” Kai, who was too busy reading the next chapter to even look up when she responds, “Yeah Mully, we are currently working on one of those mixtapes for you so be prepared.” 

The nickname Thea fought for a good three months but finally caved when her co-workers started using it as well. As for the Spotify stalking, not surprised more impressed and she was now looking forward to the next mixtape they give her. 

Last semester, Thea assigned the class a project that required them to find a song to coincide with each chapter of their novel. The students also had to write one paragraph explaining why they choose each song. That was when the revolting started for about 20 minutes until Andrew, in the back of the class, had enough and shouted, “She is legit letting us listen to music all class period and write like 10 paragraphs for a week. The other students have to write an essay on like literary devices or something and they had to read the book all by themselves.” 

“Legit?” Kay announced shocked.

“Legit Kay, legit,” Thea sighs, “Also we have like 78 words on the word wall can we work on using one of those instead of ‘legit’?” 

“Bet.” Kai says with her hand in the air and at that point, Thea just puts her head down silently laughing. 

Her phone buzzed on her desk again, this time it was just a CNN update but the missed call was still staring her in the face. All Thea has felt since that night was guilt. She felt like she was cheating on Jamie and all they did was hug before getting in their own cars and driving away. The bubble burst though on the drive home when the waterworks wouldn’t stop and she had to pull over on the side of the road almost three times. 

And then Sunday morning, her phone rings and she watches as it goes to voicemail and then it vibrates again with a voicemail. She stares at her phone for a few more minutes before playing the message. 

Hey Thea, I just wanted to call and check in on you. You never messaged me when you got home last night and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Leaving West Point now and you were right I think I definitely made the guard’s day.  I’m sure you are busy getting ready for the school day tomorrow but if you have a second to talk I’m around. Okay, take care now. 

He called one more time that evening but no message. It was now Friday and Thea had five missed calls and two messages in total. She did not know how to process all of this and she had been burying herself in work trying to stay busy avoiding the topic. She did that with most things and she knew it wasn’t going to end well and that she was being selfish. So she picked up her phone and tried to type out a text, but then the bell rang and the class started to pack up. 

“Okay, guys I’ll see most of you in 7th and 8th for Math, make sure to have your homework notebook, hint, hint hint,” Thea says with a wink. She knew their anxiety would soar if they walked in not knowing about a homework check so she always made sure she casually mentioned something to them. Her co-teacher was not a fan of this, but her kids, her decision. 

Thea now had a prep period and then lunch to try and sort out all of her thoughts. She even had time to call Chris back, but she did not trust herself to keep her emotions in check, especially while at work. 

Hey Chris, Sorry for the disappearing act. I’m still just trying to process everything and work has kept me occupied. Can we talk tonight? Text, call or even facetime if that’s easier.  Sorry again. 

Chris’ phone finally vibrated in his pocket as he was walking out of a bagel shop in New York City. He was supposed to make his way to Boston to see his family after his trip upstate but that was sidetracked by some work stuff. 

His new movie, “Captain America: Civil War was being released in a few weeks and he had a few talk shows and then the Lower Manhattan premiere was on May 4th. He knew he was going to be in town for some time now and wanted to see Thea again. 

She just didn’t want to see him. 

He had no idea what he did wrong and wanted a chance to see her and explain that. So when she finally answered him back he wasn’t sure how to respond. He would prefer to talk in person but did not want to upset her or whatever else he may have done. He tried to call his brother for some advice but that call went to voicemail as well, but his mom picked up on the first ring. 

“Chris, honey you okay?” 

“Yeah Ma, I just needed a little advice and Scott didn’t answer,” he admits to his mother.

“Well, why would you call him before me? Does he give better advice or somethin’?” This was a rabbit hole Chris would very much like to avoid. 

“It’s about a girl Ma, he already knows most of the back story,” Chris sighs through the phone.

“Ahh, so this is about the girl you met on the hike, well more like Dodger found, who you had to call your brother about in the bathroom while on a date with her?” 

“Wait what? We weren’t on a date and wow did he really tell you everything?” Chris says in complete shock. “And let the record show that I called him when SHE was in the bathroom.”

“Of course he did, I’m his mother, he tells me everything” cue the eye roll. 

“Okay Ma, and yes I called Scott, obviously that was a mistake,” Chris chuckles “He apparently blabbed everything.” Chris still wasn’t sure why he called his brother when Thea went to the bathroom, he just was so happy for the first time in a while that he needed to tell someone.

“So this is the girl that you’re going to marry, huh?” His mother bluntly states, causing Chris to almost drop his phone. 

“What the fuck did Scott say? Who said anything about marriage? We talked for like four hours and she has been avoiding me all week.”

“Scott said you were going on and on about how you finally ‘found her’ which is why he called me 20 seconds after hanging up with you.” Thank goodness for the ballcap and the glasses or all of NYC would see the flushed cheeks of Christopher Evans. 

“Okay, can we circle back to that whole topic later? Or maybe after I have a word with my kid brother. How do I ask her to meet up with me tonight when she only wanted to talk on the phone? Is that too forward? Should I just say yes to the phone call?” Chris continued to ramble to his mother. 

“It can’t hurt to ask,” such a simple response and yet it was perfect. “Just mind your manners, you were raised better Christopher.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Chris says finally smiling because he has a plan. 

“And if you need to call anyone on this date, call me not your brother,” she chuckles on the phone. “Love you and let me know how it goes.”

“Love you too”

Hey Thea, a phone call would be perfect unless you would want to meet up in person? I’m still in New York and would really like to see you again. If you wanted to meet in the city or someplace by you...whatever is easier. 

Thea wanted to act like she was shocked by the message but she understood. Jamie and her relationship started out as long-distance, so when you have the opportunity to see someone in person you jump. 

She didn’t know if she was ready for all of this, but she also knew it wasn’t fair to Chris. They needed to talk and put all of their cards on the table.

I would like to see you again too, but whatever is easier for you.

Long Beach is about an hour train ride to the city, but not sure would be better for you with people and stuff. 

You could also come here and we could get some ice cream and take a walk on the boardwalk? If that doesn’t sound too cliche...

The bell is going to ring so no rush we can figure this out after school. 

Thea finally stopped blowing up his phone by her overthinking and put her phone in her bag for the rest of the school day. 

The afternoon went by in a flash, Thea waited until she got into her car after school to look at her phone. 

Not cliche at all, that sounds perfect. I can be to you by 7, just send me the address of the ice cream shop 

Thea forwarded the address and then made her way home. She had a few hours to kill before she would see Chris so she tried to busy herself with things to do to prevent the overthinking. 

Chris on the other head couldn’t stop the overthinking and the worst-case scenarios that played out in his head. He has so many things to worry about with the movie and all the press but he cannot get her beautiful smile out of his head. 

He just didn’t know what it was about her, everything about Thea just seemed authentic. She had been dealt such a tough hand that would make any person cold and distant, but she still wears her heart on her sleeve.  Even Dodger could see her genuine soul and stepped in to defend her when we were on the mountain. Chris just wanted to get to know her better, he thought he might miss out on something unbelievable if he just walked away. He also understood that she was still so hurt and wanted to help her in any way that he could. 

Chris thought about that while driving down to the ice cream shop and pulling into the parking lot a few minutes early. He spotted Thea as she was laying down a blanket in the trunk of her Jeep. He could only see the back of her and he was glad she was wearing something comfy and casual. It made him feel better about his jeans and t-shirt that took him an hour to finally commit too. He parked his car and made his way over to her, he closed his truck door loudly and called her name so he didn’t startle her. She didn’t turn around, she was too busy struggling with her own nerves. She had been fixing this blanket for a good 10 minutes and trying to decide whether or not it was lame and if she should scrap the whole idea. She didn’t even have a clue that Chris was behind her for a few minutes before she actually turned around with a jump. 

“Sorry, I was trying so hard not to scare you but you didn’t respond when I called your name a few times,” stumbled with his words. 

Thea kept a hand over her heart trying to steady her breathing and when it was finally calmed she looked up to see Chris’ concerned expression. 

Thea couldn’t help but laugh, “Well you looked like the last time we met too, only I had a knife in my hand and yet you look more scared now.” 

And just like that the tension that had worried them both had broken as Thea walked over to give Chris a big hug. They make there way over to the line and ordered two sundaes and then head back to her car. 

“I figured we could sit here while we ate our ice cream and then head to the boardwalk, its a few minutes away but I didn’t want the sundaes to melt” 

Chris continues staring at his ice cream trying to find a way to ask the question that had been driving him crazy all week. He didn’t know how to phrase it without making the situation worse. 

Thea scoots back into the car and sits like a pretzel, “So let’s talk about it before the elephant in the room gets any bigger.” Thea used to be all about beating around the bush but after everything that happened, time is one thing you can never get back. 

“Did I do something to upset you? I have been trying to figure out why you didn’t answer and I am coming up short” Chris admits finally looking away from his ice cream. 

“You did nothing wrong and I don’t want to sound like an asshole when I say that this had nothing to do with you,” Thea says while running her fingers through her hair. Chris sits patiently giving her a second to collect her thoughts. 

“I want to explain this right, so please take everything I say with a grain of salt because I am bound to put my foot in my mouth” Thea sets the stage with a disclaimer because she is absolutely terrified of the direction this could go. 

“You know that feeling when you are exercising or playing a sport and your breaths are coming shorter and the tightness in your chest is growing? You can still breath but it’s a struggle and you cannot wait for it to subside? And then finally you stop and you catch your breath and the air in your lungs fills again and you know you are going to be okay?” Chris nods along to Thea’s analogy trying to see where she was going with this. 

Thea takes a second to collect her words again, “Chris, I have been trying to catch my breath for three years now and no outlet, no resource, nothing was helping. The panic attacks while I was awake and even when I was sleeping, I just couldn’t...” Thea tries to collect herself shaking the tears from eyes refusing to let them spill. “And then I ask Jamie for a sign that it’s okay for me to stop running and I turn around and there you were” Thea clears her throat again.

“And Chris, I finally started breathing again.”

“Then we hugged and I got in my car and started to drive away and all at once it was gone and my lungs were aching and I was terrified and lost all over again” Chris is not sure at what point he reached for her hand but he was gently squeezing it as Thea continued to shake her head. 

“Out of nowhere, I was angry at myself that I let this happen and how I was a fool for thinking I could be normal again.” Thea pulled her hand away, “I woke up to the text you sent me and then the guilt set in. I felt guilty being happy with you and wanting to answer you and then guilty because I was not being fair to you and then guilty because we only knew each other for a few hours and I was giving so much power to something that wasn’t real.”  She swirls the melting ice cream in her lap, “and now I am just sad because sitting here with you right now with all these emotions I am breathing just fine.”

“And I am scared of what will happen next.” 

Chris had no idea how to react to all of this, she had so many layers and so much going on and unintentionally he hurt her. Thea was right though this wasn’t about him but the fact that he was helping and hurting her at the same time was making his head spin. Nothing was sitting right with him and maybe ice cream wasn’t the best choice because his stomach was churning. 

“I don’t know what to say, the thought that I am causing you pain, it makes me sick. Why would you say this isn’t real though?”

“Chris,” Thea sighs “I don’t know, you’re you and I’m me and I am talking this Chris not that other guy so don’t jump to conclusions. I am filled with scars and a heart that may never work again. You are so sweet and caring and could be anywhere right now and yet you are here with me eating ice cream in my trunk. We only talked for one evening, it just doesn’t make sense.” 

“Isn’t that how all great stories start though, with a great evening that leads to many more?”

“Chris, the only thing I can offer you is a hand to hold and friendship, I don’t think I can handle much more and that’s not fair to you.”

“Deal, sold, I’ll take it. Now let’s head to the boardwalk before it gets too chilly” Chris says while taking the melted ice cream and tossing it. 

“Wait what?” Thea says completely taken back. 

“I am not done getting to know you and I have a feeling this will all be worth it,” Chris says with a smirk. 

“Chris, I really don’t…” Chris cut Thea off, “I’m an optimist so let’s just enjoy each other’s company, okay?” 

Thea nods and recommends that Chris should follow her back to her apartment building to leave his truck so that they can just walk from there to the boardwalk, parking was bound to be crazy on this warm spring night. When they finally park and head to the boardwalk, Chris, optimistically, grabs Thea’s hand and they start their walk with the breeze from the open pushing them along. 

Chris decides while looking at her windblown hair, that he is going to help her no matter what. She deserves so much happiness in this life, Chris made a silent promise to her that all of her hardest days were behind her.  

Giving her hand an extra squeeze, Chris looks out into the distance and makes the same promise to the night sky that was watching over her.

@chi00072 @capstopavenger​