Valentine's Application:

NAME:  Luka O'Rían

AGE: 34

DO YOU LIKE TO CUDDLE?: yes

CAN WE MAKE-OUT?: Y E S

A NIGHT IN OR DINNER OUT?: which e'er one ye loi'ke.

WHIP CREAM OR CHOCOLATE SYRUP?:  Whip cream chocolate can kill me.

CHOCOLATES AND ROSES?:  Roses

WHAT MAKES YOU A GOOD VALENTINE?: OI mean well.

WOULD YOU COOK FOR ME?:  aye. much as ye loi'ke.

WOULD YOU LET ME COOK FOR YOU?: aye.

WHERE WOULD YOU TAKE ME ON A DATE?: quiet dinner...maybe o wee bi' o' dancin' at ye favorite club after.

WHO’S PAYING?:  me.

WHAT DID YOU GET ME FOR VALENTINE’S DAY?: 

Better Together || -

She'd sent him the quiz because she thought it was funny and because Luka was still out at sea and would be for some months yet. A far more sincere letter, hand written on artisan paper and a king's ransom worth of gifts for him and his team would be finding their way to his FPO first thing tomorrow morning after she gets up and out of the house. Granted, she would be shipping it out a month early but considering the slowness of military mail, she'll be lucky if he gets it within a week or two of his actual birthday. Some of the gifts were nebulous. A renewal of his audio and e-book subscriptions, his music. Little things that can be done so he doesn't have to worry about them. There's coffee beans pre ground and toffee candy. Snacks, the last three books he's mentioned he wanted to read, a treasure trove to share with his team so he can get some peace. Others have to wait for him to get home. The brand new Alaskan King bed so he doesn't have to squeeze into a rack made for a man much smaller. Luxurious sheets that feel like will feel like clouds against his skin and the comforter that he can wrap around him from head to toe. And there might be something soft and satin with touches of lace that technically belongs on her, but she knows he'll enjoy…especially if he's allowed to trail his fingers all over it. She's in his apartment when her phone pings and she's quick to check it. It's a limited voice mail, but a surprise none the less. She smiles at the first few answers. He leaves off the title of Lieutenant, and she can forgive him. She smiles when he puts his age; they're both turning thirty-five this year, Luka in March and Beth in June. If he could only see the lingerie she'd purchased, he'd realise that maybe cuddling would be the prelude to deeper understanding of one another. Or something poetic like that.

He's a valiant man trying to give her options like she cares one way or the other. She does. With him having been gone so long, the idea of spending a night in, or even a weekend, sounds wonderful. Besides, they live in New York. Anything they could want is already in house, or can be delivered with minimal effort. She has always known chocolate was off the table and besides, she prefers vanilla-whipped cream. What she doesn't particularly care for is how easy it was for him to go with roses, but for obvious reasons, she's going to allow it, just once. Luka is modest and doesn't answer the goodness of his candidacy, which may actually be the best answer he can give. He doesn't espouse love undying because they both know they don't make promises they can't keep. Neither one of them can tell what the next day will bring and so they don't really look to a future that might not exist for them. Teetering on the edge of melancholy, she moves quickly on and listens to the next bits. They bring a grudging smile to her lips. Luka can cook decently, it's true though he doesn't consider it an art-form like her brother does. Doesn't make his efforts any the less. And the fact that he says however unenthusiastically that he'd let her cook for him, and she knows he'd actually eat it if she did? Makes him pretty sweet. She would never torture him like that. The date sounds lovely and if that's what he wants? She'll go along with it. Honestly, she just wants to have some time with him however much she can get as moments like that are few and far between. And of course she'd let him pay for it. She doesn't want to step on his…feelings… just because of the difference in their financial circles. That's where the audio cuts off and she doesn't take away any hurt from it. It's enough that he even had a couple minutes just to talk to her. She doesn't really expect gifts at all. And she certainly doesn't expect a sound coming his living room. "Jay?" she calls out. Her brother's on post, and no one else would think to look for her in his apartment, across the street from her own. She comes out of the bedroom, ready to call 911. The first thing she notices is the cardboard shark. Big as her purse give or take, cartoonish. It wasn't there when she got here and so part of her thrills to see it but another part… the small hairs at the back of her neck stand up. Beside it is cutest take on a cat-shark she's ever seen. Only a few people know that these small sharks ~order Carcharhiniformes~ are one of her favourites. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a slithering around her neck, and the heavy whale-shark body comes to rest against her breast, bouncing with the heave of her chest and her short, shrill shriek. She turned like a small tornado and was already mid-punch when she realises there's only one person she is so relatively small in comparison. It takes her brain long seconds to catch up with the situation. Fortunately, he takes it with good nature that she ends up hitting him ineffectually twice more before her fingers clench into his shirt. "Lulu!" He's grinning like a demon.

"Lá Fhéile Vailintín faoi mhaise duit, Beagáinín."

You wrap your thoughts in works of art And they're hanging on the walls of my heart.

Indie | Fandomless | ORT Luka O'Rìan | He Doesn’t Know How Heaven Could Be Better Than Her

See you can doubt, and you can hate But I know, no matter what it takes: he’s coming home.

Indie | Fandomless | OC Beth Riley | Sea Over Bow

Advent Calendar: Day 28 @whosxafraid​

“O’RIAN! Report to the Captain’s office immediately.” The Voice of God crackles across the sickening heat. “Oh, shit, dude,” House says from his perfect position of hiding in plain sight, standing beside the other SEAL. “You forgot to polish the dolphins. I even reminded you.” Luka mutters something about House’s mother mating with dolphins behind a dumpster and straightens. His shirt sticks to his back with sweat and his face is soured by the too-bright sun causing him to squint, the too-dry air clinging to him like saran-wrap made of dust. He grabs his shovel and slings it across his shoulders, then quick-jogs over to the Qwonset that acts as administration. Salutes the man once he’s crossed over into the Captain’s office. His mind races over every conceivable scenario he can think of, enumerating in his mind what possible sin he’s committed. “At ease. We just received TDY orders for you. You’ve got fifteen minutes to shower, shit, and shave before you and your seabag are sitting on the bird that just landed.” “...Sir?” “I know you didn’t just ask me questions, son. Get going.” Hurry up and wait is a game Luka knows well and the wait takes the shape of a lift from Camp to NAMRU-3, then a longer flight to NAVSTA Rota. It isn’t until he’s herded off a chauffeured civilian car that it all comes across as a conspiracy, a second small travel bag added to his seabag, and a manilla envelope gets shoved in his hands, the details of his TDY. One that grants him 48 hours of leave from his post. Signed by the Rear-Admiral, and a note on white unlined paper. The heavy scrawl already familiar if the greeting didn’t give it away. ~ UF, you’re my gift. Make the best of it but I swear to Christ if she isn’t happy when she goes home, I’m sending you back to yours in a box. Seriously though, I had to ask for a favour, something I never do. Just make sure the package in the included bag gets under her tree or by her coffee cup, and play it stupid if she asks about Santa. Don’t think that’ll be hard.

And Merry Christmas, frognuts. R.~ It’s an entire villa that was rented out, decorated beautifully and tastefully in a style that isn’t the happy chaos of his childhood, or the much more manic style he’s seen back in New York. But when he walks in and sets his bag down? She’s standing there, staring at the pool, or the cliff beyond where the ocean is kissing the shore with white capped waves. She jumps out of her skin, clearly not expecting anyone, before she turns. The way she holds her wine glass, it might as well have been a knife. A second ticks by, followed too closely by another as she fixes him with those wide Disney princess eyes. “Lulu?!” A single word drawn out in a throaty gasp. She sets the glass down carefully, its sherry or wine completely forgotten, and before he can even answer, she’s running. Launching herself at him. “LULU!” Arms all but choke him. Legs coil around his hips with the intention of blocking blood flow, and her lips press against his neck. Maybe Christmas is made for miracles, but Riley’s still a dick.

~*~ She could smell them almost the instant Andy appeared in her bedroom doorway with the distinctive box. They aren't exactly Leonard's but what they are is an entire half-dozen fresh malasadas. Breathing deeply, Beth could even tell that they are lilikoi filled. There's something earthy, sweet, and floral all at once that even pastry cream can't quite filter out. She pushes back her covers and half imagines herself rising from bed like those in one of those old cartoons, drifting along the air currents of warm, mouth-watering scented bliss, eyes closed in a trance. What Andy sees though is her running over on the tips of her toes, absolutely enthralled by the box. She makes what he might call 'gimme-gimme' fingers and she's just about to lean up and kiss his cheek when he shakes his head. "Don't thank me, your Sasquatch sent them. I don't know how, fucker's on a boat in the middle of not-on-my-watch." Beth blinks. And again, more slowly. "Wha?" But does the question stop her from grabbing one and shoving the entire thing into her mouth, so her cheeks are puffed out like a chipmonk's? No, no it doesn't. "He sent me some shit for you so that it would get to you on time, but this is blowing my mind. I didn't know anyone around here even made this shit. Liliha's the best though." "Bite me, Leonards." Or at least that's what it would have been if her mouth wasn't stuffed with malasada. They grudge glare at one another before at the same time they both agree in unison. "Kamehameha Bakery." Then her eyes narrow again."You said...sent you da kine?" "I'm not supposed to let you have it until he calls." They both know for him to be able to send a call home, he's moved heaven and earth, and probably owes a few favours. It goes unspoken that his rank probably helped.Beth knew going into this whole thing that life would be hard. That she and Luka would not always get to be together to celebrate milestones and anniversaries, that they would go up to a year at a time absent of one another. It is a hard life and takes its toll, which is why it's called service and duty, and why so many relationships end so quickly. Why the one left at home so often seeks comfort and support in someone else, though the service person isn't always spotless in that regard. She knows Andy and Luka are different, but she is too. Having been raised in the life and having so many responsibilities on her own narrow shoulders, she often doesn't have time to miss him in the moment, and it isn't til the end of the day that it hits her how long he's been gone, or how far away and dangerous his life is. "Yeah, okay." So they spend the rest of her birthday doing sibling things, and while walking through Central Park, Andy snaps a couple pictures that are in keeping with the rules of just what Luka is allowed to receive, none of them in any way risque. But the entire time, she's distracted. The anxiety of waiting only mounting as time got closer and closer. Eventually, she's settled at the dining table, laptop set up and ready to go. And while there's skips, delays, freezes, it is when he smiles and wishes her happy birthday that Andy enacts the other part of the plan. He brings her the dessert that was promised, a little snail of vanilla custard ice cream, white chocolate, raspberries, a caramelised brown sugar branch. She blows out the candle for Luka, and they both know what her wish is, even if it isn't spoken aloud. She opens the gift, and immediately puts on the jewelry which sparkles against her tawny skin, purple and sea blues. Luka makes her promise to further still wait until later to read the letter. She agrees, if reluctantly.The rest of the next few minutes are spent making promises and talking soft, inconsequential things. But just before he's cut off, she asks... "How even did'ja sen me malasadas?" He smiles. "Jayden's a roc-" The screen goes blank.

★ Seal!Luka

Little Every Day Blessings || Accepting

I like you // I lava you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’d kill you if I got the chance // I want you to like me // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I pity you // I respect you // I trust you // I feel protective of you // I’d invite you with me to parties // I’d lend you my money // I’d borrow your money // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // I’m upset with you // You’re sweet // You’re mean // I’m envious of you // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I look up to you // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better

Happy Birthday Luv

~*~ After so many years, one of the things Beth loves about Luka is the fact that they're still learning things about each other. This slow unfolding is largely done through the letters they faithfully still send one another at the rate of between four and fifteen, depending on whether he's ship-based or off on one of his black-out missions he's never allowed to talk about. All the hard work he puts into things is rewarded by being able to sleep knowing that she doesn't take him for granted, and she has eyes for no one else. Sure things could be better if they were stationed together but things are as good as can be. One of their latest offerings to each other had come with the confession that the only theme park she'd ever been to was Coney Island, and that it had apparently changed a lot in the eighteen years she's lived in New York. He mentions some parks in Ireland but nothing like they have in America. It's a sweet sharing but she ultimately doesn't give it any more thought as she goes back to a week and a half long set of shifts. When she wakes up the morning of her birthday, she knows something is instantly different, though she can't put her finger on it right away. Her curtains are drawn to block out the light. She doesn't remember closing them. The air holds the scent of wet stone from the shower but the faint traces of the moisture has something familiar but far different than her own soaps and hair products. She can't help but think that maybe something went wrong with Andy's shower and that he used hers. She slides herself off the bed, feet in her slippers, her stolen tee-shirt hanging down to her knees. She pads into her kitchen, and then deafens bat colonies in South America with the sound that gets eventually strangled in her throat. "Mornin' luv," he says as he looks over his shoulder, stirring the cup of coffee he'd just poured himself. His smile hefts the sun on its shoulders and gives that light to her eyes. She hadn't expected him to be home for her birthday. Even less did she expect to find out he took block leave, and that for the next three weeks, he is all hers. She doesn't even find out about til dinner, when they talk over the beautiful macaron decorated cake. Then he presents her with a bracelet themed with her 'aumakua. Says everything new should be blessed. And the first week of that leave is spent in Florida. He says it's her actual gift, spending those days in Disney World, where she can be the princess of all those books she admires. It is something new for them both. And he doesn't lie, their suit is fit for a fairy tale, but even better is the bouquet of wild flowers he brings to her each day. She still doesn't know how he does it, but it's beautiful just the same. They take their time and ride every ride, play every game, enjoy every moment of their sunsoaked, Dole-whip filled days. The nights are quieter, spent mostly in cuddles and and drowsy quiet, dips in the pools and the hot tubs. The last night of their vacation, after a long soak, they take turns showering, and ever the gentleman, Luka offers to let her go first. When he comes out, Beth stands quietly beside the bed, still in her towel, and wearing the custom Stitch ears he'd had made for her earlier in the day. Lights from the fireworks flash across her skin and make rainbow highlights in her hair. He stands there for a moment, head tilted and the unasked question lingering in her eyes. Shyly she returns his smile, and drops the towel.

(seal) LOOK INTO MY EYES

Eye of the Beholder || Accepting

I SEE:

Absolute Conviction  |  Aggression  |  Ambition  |  Anger  |  Anxiety  |  Apathy  |  Arrogance  |  Bloodthirst  |  Bravery  |  Compassion  |  Confidence  |  Conflict  | Courage  |  Darkness  |  Defeat |  Denial  |  Desire  |  Despair  |  Determination  |  Devotion  |  Disappointment  |  Distrust  |  Dominance  |  Emptiness  |  an Enemy  |  Enlightenment  |  Envy  |  Excitement  |  Exhaustion  |  Elitism  |  Experience  |  Fear  |  a Friend  |  a Future  |  Gentleness  |  Greed  |  Grief  |  Guilt  |  Honesty  |  Honor  |  Hope  |  Hostility  |  Ignorance  |  an Illness  |  Insecurity  |  Integrity  |  Intoxication  |  Kindness  |  Lies  |  Loneliness  |  Longing  |  Loss  |  a Lover  |  Loyalty  |  Malicious Intent  |  Mania  |  Melancholy  |  Misery  |  Negativity  |  Overcompensation  |  Pain  |  Paranoia  |  Passion  |  Perseverance  |  Pettiness  |  Pity  |  Positivity  |  Pressure  |  Pride  |  a Purpose  |  Racism  |  Regret  |  Resentment  |  Resignation  |  Resolve  |  Sadness  |  Self-Hatred  |  Sexism  |  Shattered Remains  |  a Shining Light  |  Something Familiar  |  Spite  |  Stress  |  Stupidity  |  Submission  |  Tranquility  |  Trauma  |  Trust  |  Vengeance  |  Warmth  |  Wisdom  |  Wrath  |  a Cry for Help  |  Something Eating Your Mind  |  the Years have Changed You

YOU’RE:

Animalistic  |  Approachable  |  Broken  |  Closed-Off  |  Cold  |  Crafty  |  Crazy  |  Defensive  |  Devious  |  Difficult  |  Disheartened  |  Emotionally Detached  |  Frightened  |  Frightening  |  Genuine  |  Guarded  |  Headstrong  |  Heartless  |  Human  |  Immature  |  Impatient  |  Inhuman  |  Insane  |  Intuitive  |  Lost  |  Mature  |  Noble  |  Patient  |  Pitiful  |  Primitive  |  Pure  |  Reliable  |  Remorseless  |  Reserved  |  Resourceful  |  Short-Tempered  |  Simplistic  |  Sly  |  Soft-Hearted  |  Struggling  |  a Threat  |  Trapped  |  a Troublemaker  |  Trusting  |  Understanding  |  Unique |   Unpredictable  |  Unwavering  |  a Victim  |  Wicked  |  Feeling Vindictive  |  Guilty of Something  |  Hiding Something  |  Lost in Thought  |  Planning Something  |  Scared of Me  |  Scaring Me  |  Someone I can Trust  |  Someone I Can’t Recognize Anymore  |  Someone to Fear  |  Someone Worthy of Respect  |  Weak to Manipulation  |  Weighed by Something

YOU:

Aren’t Being Yourself  |  Belittle Yourself  |  Don’t Want to Hurt Me  |  Don’t Want to Leave Me  |  Drown Yourself in Something  |  Feel Alone  |  Feel Empowered  |  Have a Plan that Involves Me  |  Have No One Else to Turn to  |  Have Nowhere Else to Go  |  Have Seen Some Things  |  Haven’t Been Sleeping  |  Lie to Yourself  |  Lost Faith/Trust in Me  |  Lost Something/Someone Important  |  Need Me/my Help  |  No Longer Believe Me  |  See Me as a Thing  |  See Me as Someone Else  |  Seek to Hurt/Harm  |  Seek to Manipulate  |  Think Highly of Yourself  |  Think I’m Hiding Something  |  Think Little of Yourself  |  Think You Know Best  |  Want to Hurt Me  |  Want to Protect Me  |  Want to Sleep with Me  |  Want to Use Me

"i will literally marry you on spot if you were to ever give me a book of annotated poetry with all your thoughts messily scrawled in the margins. highlighted lines of poetry that remind you of me, and a note on the first page stating how you wish i were to enjoy the book just as much as you had, as a gift. not kidding." -hurried sounds of a favorite book of poetry being packed and shipped across the planet by a very desperate SEAL-

👌🛌 [ seal ]

Ain’t Exactly like Barry White || Not Currently Accepting

There are some things that Beth’s not even aware of that transpire around her. Part of it is her trusting nature, part of it is the way she processes the world itself. She can hear the neighbours down the block arguing over whether or not the husband remembered to file their taxes jointly this year, and the kids up the street shouting increasingly insulting expletives as a way of ribbing each other. She can hear the background noises from Jay’s coffee shop and the hum of the wires in the walls. What she doesn’t hear is the quiet way the front door opens. She doesn’t detect the faint smell of bus exhaust that lessened over the time spent walking across the street. She doesn’t hear him close the door behind her or really take note of heavy tread -combat boots are a common sound, after all- as he comes to stillness on the rug before the door. She doesn’t see his reflection in the glass of her floor to ceiling mirrors just how tight his tee-shirt is as it spans his broad shoulders and chest. Maybe the desert khaki of his BDU bottoms works just as well as in an urban environment.

Maybe she’s just wrapped up in the that complicated pose she’s been on about in her letters for months. She calls it Bhairavasana, which she assures him means destroyer of the universe. Even as he’s watching, she starts in a one-arm plank form, both feet on the ground, before the lower leg gets dragged up and up until it’s lodged firmly behind her head. Then she lifts her free arm toward the ceiling, and stares upward. All while carrying on a conversation with her sister. “So hones’ly, dunno wha’ I’m doin’ wrong. Like...I don’ put on a mask before bed. I put my hair up so it no get in da way. Wore no kine but one his shirts. Candles for mood lightin’...I even put on dat Shakira song about hips no lie. Teeth all brush, limbs all soft and smell good. An’ still... no kine. I have drop hints like you say, ‘bout cherry pastry an’ stuff. I’m startin’ t’ wonder if you know...he’s mebbe no interest in girls.”

Jay’s laughter can be heard from speaker mode. “Babe, I don’t think...” “No, for reals. An’ mebbe if he is interest in girls, mebbe he’s jus’...maybe it’s jus’ not me he want.”

“Okay so have you just flat out said you wanna sleep with him?” “Yeah, an’ I even aks wha’ side of da bed he want.” “You know that isn’t...oh, Fuck. Look, I’ll call you back. My dad just turned up.” “Oh! Give Uncle Harvey kiss for me.” “Not if you paid me a million dollars. See ya.” The call ends and Beth slowly starts to disentangle herself from her human pretzel shape.

So is it true what they say about SEALS in bed or is he like that deceptively pretty mango at the shop? All pretty on the outside and then you get him home and it's just disappointment ?

Anon-aholics || Accepting {{tagging @whosxafraid for relevance}}

She pulls out her phone, and rolls her eyes to one side before adopting the most angelic smile she can. “Why d’ ya t’ink I go missin’ for seven days every eight or so months? I like t’ call it...Fleet Week.”

It wasn’t strictly what she’d let on for them to believe, and watched as the phone in the stranger’s hands was crowded around by others. The video is only a couple weeks old, when Luka was home and it was the afore euphemistically titled Fleet Week. They had decided to get a couple drinks out before locking themselves up in his apartment where the world could simply not exist for a little while. To reunite and reconnect without intrusion which is the price one pays living with others. He was six into her one, one she hadn’t even finished half of. She’d asked what he’d wanted for dinner. Holding the camera steady, she’d caught his reply. She was prone to do this so they could have little glimpses of each other when when the miles and the days apart got to be too long. She ruined that shirt with the spit-take. Later, Luka ruined a lot more than a shirt.

💗 What advice would they give a potential partner about making their relationship last if they could with no judgment?

It Came From The Lost Meme Lagoon || -

She's just coming off the high of her jog along the shoreline, sneakers left on their little mat by the door so as not to track sand all through the apartment. And she notes that this must be a sort of reverse situation; she the one up at ungodly hours to do basically a four-mile PT run, while he enjoys a quiet morning with coffee, the paper, breakfast. Fortunately, it was something shed' bought premade so he doesn't have to suffer the wrath of food poorly made. The first thing she grabs is water and drinks down a full glass. And this morning, she's quick. Catches every word in its own clarity, as it fell fully formed from his lips. And the way her eyes cut toward the window? The look that throws colour into her cheeks and purses her lips? She doesn't really need to speak, does she? Except she does, even if she doesn't meet Luka's eyes. "I dunno, mebbe...don't fall so in love wi' my braddah dat ya forget I even exist?" That has happened her whole life, competing just to be seen whenever Andy was around. And she doesn't blame anyone for it. He is the more exciting, the more brave, the more beautiful, the more everything between the two of them. She's lived in fascination with Andy for as long as she can remember, so how can she actually blame anyone else for becoming enamoured and enchanted by him? But she doubts Luka knows what it's like to have that constant uphill struggle of actually meeting people, making friends of them, so very rarely developing feelings only to become an afterthought. To know that you no longer matter because something bigger and shinier and more-well adjusted has come along. "Follow by understandin' dat I'm not... neurotypical. Nevah will be. Dat I'm gonna be sick all my life an' I do my best. Dat I nevah can control when I'm gonna go coco puffs, or die inside, or for how long. Dat half'a time I don't even know what's goin' on cause I no can undahstand what people are sayin' or dat it takes too long for me to work it out, it's all an exercise in frustration. Dat I am nevah gonna have children. Dat I struggle wi' relationships. Dat I'm..." That she's a mess, and suddenly she can understand why Andy is so much better.

"...I'm a mess an' probably not wort' da time an' da effort, really. An' dat I really should grab a shower. Which boils down to: No Andy, a lotta patience, deciding if a traditional family is what ya want den ya probably ought not come knock on my door, an' know dat I'm sorry."

FLOCK

...Of A Feather || Not Accepting

Flock: What is your muse’s family like? How do they get along with them?

There’s a stillness over the house when Beth wakes up but it doesn’t worm its way down into her. If anything it serves only to stoke her enthusiasm. It’s the first day of summer break and Andy promised to take her to the North Shore. Horseback Riding from the resort stables where one of his friends is working, maybe hitting the surf though it’s not seasonally peak conditions, a picnic under the iron wood trees. An entire day to spend together without homework, without some sport or music practice looming in at the edges.

She strips down to nothing, pulls on a bathing suit, covers it with shorts that are long enough to provide protection against leather from the saddle and horsehair. A quick look in the mirror tells her that the braids Andy had put her hair in the night before are still tight, she skips down the stairs and comes bursting into the kitchen. She ends the little run in a mimicry of a haka, her little warrior pose meant to bring a smile to her brother’s face because at twelve, Beth is all scrawny legs, pointy teeth. She barely meets the four feet requirements for most things, barely weighs sixty two pounds. Andy often threatens to keep a car seat in his car.

Unfortunately, Andy doesn’t quite manage to grab hold of her and stop her before any of this happens though his arms are thrown out and he lurches forward.

“Ah, I see the little heathen has finally decided to join us.” The look of joy becomes a momentary rictus, her open mouth frozen, impossibly wide eyes still larger, and there’s a moment where Beth’s heart feels like it’ll pump right out of her chest. The Admiral is sitting at the breakfast nook, steaming cup of coffee just out of reach, glowering at her over the top of his newspaper, immaculately folded and crisp. He rakes her from head to toe with disapproval marring his craggy features.  “What? You couldn’t find coconuts and a grass skirt? Must you parade around in your skivvies in front of your brother? I raised you better than that, Elizabeth.” She says nothing. Doesn’t even flinch when Andy’s hands come down on her shoulders and pulls her toward him until her back is pressed to his body. “C’mon dad, be reasonable. We’re heading up to Turtle Bay today, so she’s just-” “And you. Always defending her. If you’re not more careful, Andrew, people are going to start thinking the worst. Is that what you want?”

Andy sighs and his hands tighten on her shoulders, making half fists. She doesn’t squirm or cry out. If anything, she only tries to make herself smaller, less visible. “I’m just saying you shouldn’t be so hard on her.” The Admiral’s face turns red at the edges. He rises up like a mountain pushed up from the sea. Unspeakable tension fills the kitchen. Andy leans down, his mouth at her ear. “Go next door. See if you can hang out with Steve and Mary.” She nods. Takes off out the back door like a shot.

Twenty minutes later, he calls to her from the McGarrett drive way. Bags are thrown haphazardly in the back seat and Andy is practically shaking with anger. When she slides into the seat and buckles herself in, she looks at him. He only looks out the windshield. His right eye is swollen, his lip is cut open, he’s going to look like hell in another hour. It’s all her fault. And she doesn’t have the words to apologise for it. Instead she reaches across the small space between them and tries to pat his arm. He flinches, jerking away from her before he shifts into reverse and speeds backwards down the drive-way. He doesn’t say a word.

~*~

Beth sips her coffee and her eyes trail out of the window and across the street, watching early morning foot traffic and cars go by. For a moment it could be assumed that she hasn’t really heard his question, she’s like that sometimes. Misses entire snippets of conversation or answers in some non-sense way.

Tapered fingertips tap a rhythm against her coffee cup, something almost tribal. Her full lips purse then pull to one side. When she speaks, she refuses to meet his gaze. “I haven’t heard from my mother since I was ten,” she says eventually. “We have supper every Sunday wi’ da Admiral, when Andy’s on leave, oddahwise I go alone. Already tole ya all about my braddah...an’ Jay... she my hanai-sistah... she owns dis place an’ we been good friends since mebbe ten years ago, when she a freshman at Columbia, an’ my dorm-mate.” Suddenly, she looks to him and flashes a brittle smile. “An’ if ya please no mind, I need t’ excuse m’self for a minute.”

Beth doesn’t wait for Luka to say anything but stands up and saunters slowly toward the back of the shop, needing a moment alone to compose herself. She hadn’t thought about that day in almost fourteen years, but sometimes she can’t shake the feelings that come from old, painful memories. And she doesn’t know how to avoid the topic without raising more questions. As she looks at her reflection she curls her lip.

It’s still her fault.

She’s making the Admiral look bad. She’s letting Andy down. Why can’t she just be normal?

truth serum : if a certain seal asked you to marry him would you? why/why not?

Truth Serum || Accepting

The two busiest nights in Tabby's bar are always Fleet Week and the NYFD vs NYPD baseball game. When the two coincide, it's pure chaos and Beth doesn't know how the other woman can stand it. The firefighter he's currently talking to is a lovely young boy, barely old enough to be in the bar to begin with, and Beth almost wishes she'd ordered something ridiculously large and fruity from Tabby rather than the glass of Coke and a little plateful of carrots. She'd come from the hospital and hadn't had a chance to eat yet and her head is swimming from the heat, cologne, and pheromones that threaten to spill out of the bar and onto the busy street outside. So when the kid asks, and Beth knew he was going to, especially after one of the cops pulled him aside and whispered in his ear, Beth takes a moment and nibbles on her carrot. Would she marry Luka? It wasn't anything she'd considered before. And the answer starts to sink into her belly like a stone. He might want children some day, and that's not something she can give. He has a huge family of his own, even if he doesn't speak to them. And he's as Catholic as she and Andy are. Luka is a gentle soul but in marrying him she's condemning herself to the same kind of life she grew up in, where he's never going to be around as much as she wants, and at any second she could get a chaplain and a notification officer at her door to shatter what life they do make together. Could she live under that cloud of fear and loneliness? Their relationship could go on the way it was indefinitely, not pushed by any rush toward a commitment he wasn't ready for and that she was afraid of. Beth believes in the sanctity of marriage. It didn't matter if Luka is pretty, it didn't matter what his social background came from {though he was certainly from a blue collar situation the likes of which she only knows from television and what she sees streaming through her ER}. It doesn't even really matter what the Admiral might think to some extent, though the man has the power to ruin Luka's life in the worst ways. She's about to give the firefighter an answer that is already threatening to break her heart. That is until there's a murmur in the crowd. There's cheers and back-slapping and greetings all around. And there's Luka, walking in. Head and shoulders taller than most of the other patrons, and even the tall ones still fall a little shorter. He offers polite smiles but green eyes strafe the crowd and she knows who he's looking for. Of their own accord, her lips tremble at the corners until they blossom into a full smile. Her eyes draw in a thousand different points of light until her face practically glows. She stands a little straighter and even the firefighter can see that he's faded so far from her mind that he might as well not exist at all. Her eyes meet Luka's and he starts making his way toward her. Her hand lands on the firefighter's forearm and pushes him a little out of the way. "Yeah, yeah I t'ink I would. An' why? If you only saw wha' I can, you nevah hafta aks." And he's never looked at someone the way Luka does her. She pushes again and into the stream of people until she finds herself standing right in front of the Seal in question. She lifts her arms up. Wraps them around his neck. "Hi."

What’s your wildest fantasy?

A Little Light/A Little Dark || -

Luka is home. And for the next six weeks before he rotates out, she can enjoy his company and not worry about what might be happening to him while he's on duty, or what might happen when he's off. Not that she ever worries about Luka finding 'a bit of strange' as Andy calls it in whatever town rises up around bases, or from other sailors on other ships. It doesn't even occur to her that bunk-mate might not be a euphemism. Neither does Luka have to worry that Beth is going to turn out like the Jersey Devil. First, Beth hated Jersey. Secondly, she wasn't tempted by earthly pleasures on her best day, and she couldn't imagine doing those kinds of things with people she doesn't know. Secondly, it's been three years and Beth hasn't even written to anyone else.

But mostly, it's all in the way she smiles down at his face as his head is nestled in her lap, and she's lazily dragging her nails down his scalp, leaving little furrows through his hair. It's getting a little long, and he'll probably buzz it before the month is out. And maybe she's a little disappointed that he keeps his eyes closed when he asks his question. Slow. Deep. That barely half-awake tone to his voice that really melts her bones.

Never let it be said though that Beth doesn't put up a good fight. She looks away from his face, eyes going toward the window of his apartment over looking the same street as hers. The lights over there are dim, and she can imagine the same soft instrumental radio on the stereo that she's playing here, where beer or whiskey replaces wine. "Oh, dat's easy. M' biggest fan'asy revolve around O'ahu. Jus' bein' back home. Sun slowly risin' ovah Pūpūkea. Every kine still as da waves drift in an' out." She mimics the motion with her hand, though one parts ways with his hair to fall onto his chest, just over his heart. "An' jus' when every kine turns gold an' da first swells really start going, pick up my board an' race across da sand, launching into dat immaculate water. Followed of course...by Da Admiral. Who wipes out on a rip tide and gets pulled undah, leavin' his board afloat cause he too stupid to lissen to me when I tell him put his leash on an' he get suck out to sea where Search an' Rescue cutters nevah find his body which got sucked along until he was deposited at da bottom of Marianas Trench an' became ono grindz for da dwellers in da deep."

Truthfully, that is the thing that Beth really does fantasise the most about, the different ways that the Admiral is murdered ~justly~ by the ocean, a truer and more loyal and loving a mother than she's ever really had. But Beth also knows that's not what Luka was asking and she can't help but to laugh a little. "Jus' playin', ya know. Okay so...for reals. Uhm." She tucks her lower lip back over her lower teeth and flicks her tongue across it a couple times, steeling her nerves. Letters from Beth are almost always sweet and can be read as platonic by anyone who doesn't really know her. Phone calls are similar, and there's always a little demure shyness when he's with her in person. As she absently considers her answer, her hand begins to drift southward down the broad expanse of his chest, and stops only when she reaches the washboard of his abs. "So dere's all dese movies, right? Where at da end, da sailor come sweepin' in and dey always officers, right? An' da girl always has dis manual labour or menial office job. Anyway, here he come wearin' his Full Dress whites, usually wi' da sabre...an' yes, I know dat's only f' officers....but he come sweeping in an' scoop her up an' bridal carry her away from whatevah she was doin''...wi' da cheers an' applause of her coworkers. An' den she usually reach up an' take his lid off an eiddah wear it herself or waves it around while try f' kiss him. An' I'm alla way dere, ya know. I want dat too. But den I wan wha' comes aftah, ya know? Get t' da car or truck. Struggle f' get da door open. "Alla'while, tearin' an' scratchin' an' pullin. Try to get as much flesh as can, because if can....can. Da feel of cool leather seat on bare back skin. Scrunchin' up skirts until dey pool around hips like multi-coloured cotton candy. No can wait t' get under-kine off. Just rip it, pull it aside or whatevah. An' I'm gonna be honest, Lulu, I wan....I want dat moment of almos' animalistic ruttin', because da passion is so ovahwhelmin' an' no one cares if someone see 'em li'dat..." Her hand begins to curl into an involuntary fist, dragging her nails across his belly. There's a little catch in her breath and a shiver pulses through her that cannot be politely ignored, especially not with the way her pulse begins to race. She clears her throat. "Uhm. Yeah. Dat."

What’s the most annoying thing about sex?

A Little Light/A Little Dark || Accepting

"All'a it?" She tries to keep a serious face, she does. A little tilt of stubborn jaw, her mouth drawn into a grim line, brows dipping down between her eyes. And she manages to make it convincing for a whole maybe five seconds before the corners of her mouth twitch, her nostrils flare with an inward breath, before her nose wrinkles where the corners of her eyes meet it and she can't help the laugh that comes pouring out of her. She shouldn't be teasing Luka like that, it's not really fair when she is sure the question is asked in earnest. She can hear it in the rough timbre of his voice, the way the words seem to pile up in his throat and only come out once they've been gathered like gravel in a river bed. She can see it in his eyes, the way they darken and slide away from her face almost entirely once she does laugh, and in the reddened tips of his ears, the splotch of angry colour spanning the back of his neck, one of Luka's give-aways that he's become uncomfortable, embarrassed, upset without anger or ~in some cases~ reason. And that in turn takes some of the wind right out of her because she didn't mean it to be hurtful. Beth has had a long standing difficulty with the topic, with the action, with everything related to it, and she can't lie, she feels terrible for him. Like somehow she has lied. Even if it is one of omission, though she thinks she mentioned it in the first few letters sent tentatively between then-strangers. So that he didn't get any expectations or his hopes high if that was what he was looking for; a relationship with full and mutual physicality. And their journey together to even get to this place they're in now has had some meandering roads. Luka the man of flesh and blood almost seems different than the one in letters ~which keep her on tenterhooks, anxious that they arrive as soon as they can, from all the foreign ports that he isn't really supposed to talk about, that instead come with APO addresses almost as familiar to her as childhood phone numbers~ even though he isn't, and that's mere imagination rearing its inconvenient head in the back of her mind. It has been a slow process. Getting to know him in bits and pieces. Having a patchwork quilt of a relationship where he's absent more than he's home. And Beth knew what she was signing up for when she chose to begin their relationship in earnest. She had been literally born to this kind of life, groomed to marry into the Navy, to be an officer's wife in the way her mother had never been. At least that last bit was according to the Admiral's often stated rants over the years.

And in the space of ~she taps her fingertips one at a time with her thumb out of view~ five years, she's finally arrived at a place where she sees that he's more than just handsome. That parts of her she thought was broken have come together and allowed her to take her first few forays into adult human attraction, but she can't say that it is entirely without reservations, and without a heft bundle of prettily strung together nerves. But none of her attempts seem to have gained any kind of traction, or at least gone in the right direction. Entirely and utterly her fault, and she knows it.

So maybe that makes her voice a little more gentle, her face softened by compassion, why she reaches out and lays her hand not on his leg, but his forearm. After all, touch never lies.

"Bein' hones'? I t'ink mebbe mos' annoying kine is how everyone seems t' make such a big deal out of it. All dese questions like...who ya doin' it wit. If ya doin' it. Are ya actin' responsible wi' prophylactics? Gay-straight-inbetween-not interest. Is onna TV an' movies. Wha' is normal, wha' is kinky. Even young keiki now-a-days like ten, eleven year old... sendin' pictures t' each oddah. Is really jus'...overwhelmin', especially when ya get ta be my age an' nevah got it figured out, ya know?"

One slight shoulder rises and falls like ancient empires only a little more slowly. The weight on them is that of an entire world.

"An' I guess... if ya filter all dat oddah stuff out... I... I mebbe always believe I'd be married before I need worry about it. Will it hurt? Wha' if I don' like it? What if all da bits don' line up proper? So I guess, whenevah I t'ink about it...I jus' get scared. Like petrified about doin' it all wrong. About jus' everyt'ing. An' one t'ing I know from my job is...if ya so wound up ya no can relax...den it gonna be bad, regardless of da oddah person's patience an' experience, because ya goddah be in da right mindstate t' do it. Den it jus' becomes dis giant echo-chamber of anxiety an' ya know. Sometimes I wish...you mebbe would jus'...storm da beach, I guess...is da right euphemism. Mebbe don' let me get a chance t' ovah-t'ink it. But even dat seems entirely unfair, puttin' alla heavy liftin' on you...so...I have no idea, Lulu."

What do I think is the best way to seduce ur muse?

i’ll be taking my crown back. Thanks.

Drink The Honey || Accepting

“Okay, Okay. Jus’ don’ wear yaself out. Ya goddah save some dat energy f’ me, Lulu.”