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cultofbeatles · 4 years

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parts of pattie boyd’s book wonderful tonight that involved george that stuck out to me:

pattie didn't have any of the beatles records at first and only bought please please me since she was going to be in their film

“on first impressions, john seemed more cynical and brash than the others, ringo the most endearing, paul was cute, and george, with velvet brown eyes and dark chestnut hair, was the best looking man i’d ever seen.”

during a lunch break pattie and george sat next to each other and were both very shy

george asked pattie “will you marry me?” and after she laughed he said, “well, if you won't marry me, will you have dinner with me tonight?” and she turned him down.

she deadass invited george to hang out with her and her boyfriend at the time.

pattie and george are both pisces.

once reshoots for the film were happening george asked pattie about her boyfriend, she said she had dumped him, and george once again asked her for dinner. she accepted this time.

brian epstein joined them for their first date.

they sat side by side and were too scared to even hold the others hand.

george got along great with pattie’s family.

pattie liked cynthia lennon but found her difficult to make friends with.

“she wasn't like my friends, who enjoyed a giggle and some fun: she was rather serious, and often, i thought, behaved more like john’s mother than wife.”

there was a rumor that john and pattie were having an affair and pattie worried cynthia believed it. it wasn't true.

maureen cox (ringo’s girlfriend) was another beatles girl that pattie had a hard time being friends with. but said that she was “jolly and friendly, more relaxed than cynthia.”

pattie got along best with jane asher but saw her the least.

“i felt there was definitely a north-south divide among the wives and girlfriends. and i had the definite impressions that the girls from the north (maureen and cynthia) felt they has a prior clam to the boys.” okay shade, we see you.

(talking about going on holiday with john, cynthia, and george) “it was a good way to split the group. john and paul were the closest in some ways and immensely creative together, but they clashed if they were in each other’s pockets for too long.”

george asked pattie to cut his hair while on holiday and one of the cleaners found his hair and kept it.

(talking about george) “he was so beautiful and so funny.”

once a “weird looking man” tried to force his way into pattie and george’s house. pattie thought he was either a salesman or a jehovahs witness. it turns out it was paul in disguise.

george said the only place he got peace was in the bathroom of his hotel suite.

pattie got a lot of letters saying that if she didn't leave george there would be a curse put on her.

pattie’s cleaner was a male ballet dancer and “a terrific duster.”

pattie would count the days till george came back. once he jumped into the bed early in the morning to wake her up.

those two would deadass not lock their doors and were surprised that clothes were going missing...what is with older generations and not locking their doors i -

george would be in the studio from 11 am - 11 pm. sometimes midnight.

george’s mom loved when john would visit and would always ask him for an “upper.”

when john lennon is your drug dealer.

pattie wasn't a good cook but was optimistic.

“i loved listening to him (play guitar), loved the sound of the guitar in the house. sometimes i would start to talk and he'd be so deep in thought about the lyrics or the melody he was writing that he wouldn't answer. we’d be the same room but he wasn't really with me: he was in his head.”

pattie developed a kidney disorder.

(talking about the beatles dynamic) “in many aspects they were still children. they had few real friends apart from each other, and when they were asked questions they could answer as one - they were so much on each other’s wavelength. if one went to a gallery opening, they all went; if one bought a new car or new house, they all did. if one seemed in danger of taking himself too seriously, the others knocked it out of him.”

one evening george stopped the car and said, “let’s get married. i'll speak to brian.” they went to brian’s house, george went inside, and when he came back in the car he said, “brian says it’s okay. will you marry me? we can get married in january.”

briannnnnnn, is it my turn to get married yet pleaseeeee

pattie invited her absent father to their wedding but he did not come.

at the train station everyone left cynthia behind as she was carrying the suitcases and john was carrying nothing. peter brown had to go back and get her.

pattie’s quote from the lsd in the coffee moment is hilarious to me. “you've just had lsd. it was in the coffee.” john lennon: “how dare you fucking do this to us?”

pattie and george didn't go to brian’s funeral in liverpool but george sent one single sunflower.

pattie stopped modeling because george didnt like it. and she felt like she lost a part of herself.

maureen was afraid of flies.

during the India trip, mia farrow told john that maharishi was inappropriate with her and john wanted everyone leave after that.

after India george and pattie’s relationship changed.

(talking about george) “some days he would be all right, but on others he seemed withdrawn and depressed. this was new: he had never been depressed before, but there was nothing i could do. it wasn't about me, but i found that my moods started to mirror his...so bad indeed, that at times i felt almost suicidal. i don't think i was ever in any real danger of killing myself, but i got as far as working out how i would do it: i would put on a diaphanous ossie clark dress and jump off beachy head.”

george became more obvious about his cheating. it hurt pattie.

george was gaslighting her.

cilla black was staying at george and pattie’s house and was uncomfortably close to george so pattie left. six days latter george called to tell her the girl was gone and she could come home.

“..but my ego was too fragile and i couldn't see it as anything other than betrayal. i felt unloved and miserable.”

“jane asher came home unexpectedly from new york and found another woman in the house, an american girl - and did what i should probably have done with george...”

george would start to talk about his feelings about paul or john but would stop bc he never wanted to admit that he felt left out.

“we had once been so close, so honest and open with each other. now a distance had developed between us..”

(about yoko contributing to the beatles break up) “the four had never allowed anyone into the recording studios with them, but yoko not only sat by john throughout every session, he consulted her about the music they were making, which upset paul.”

during the let it be sessions there was a time with george and paul got in a fist fight and george left.

the same day john told George he was leaving the beatles, george’s mom told him she was ill and in critical condition.

i love that she vibe checked george. “he was bringing home bad vibes.”

george continued cheating and they continued arguing.

“my diary is full of entries about my unhappiness and the disintegration of our relationship.”

john came to visit george and pattie’s new mansion and said that it was so dark he didn't know how they could live in it, and george recommended that he took of his sunglasses.

eric clapton being a piece of shit and saying “if you won't be with me pattie i will become addicted to heroin.”

pattie said the only thing she had left was cooking and george took that away.

the couple was suppose to go on holiday together but george cancelled last minute bc he didn't want to go with her. he ended up going to spain.

“when i challenged him, he denied it and tried once again to make me feel as though i was paranoid.”

i'm not even...the whole fucking story of the george and maureen affair PISSES ME OFF more than i can describe. maybe i’ll make a whole other post but omfg i'm fuming. fuck them bothhhh. they deserve no rights.

george harrison, mere days before their wedding anniversary: “let’s get a divorce this year.” what an amazing new years resolution jerk.

ringo offered pattie a job.

when george told ringo about the affair pattie was so mad she dyed her hair red.

george loved pattie’s little brother and was his role model but he wouldn't come to the man’s wedding even though he was invited.

the night pattie told george she was leaving him george came to bed in sadness and said, “don't go.”

“i'm going.”

george invited pattie to dhani’s eighteenth birthday party bc she “had to be there. she was family.”

george had become more of an older brother to her now.

pattie had learned about john’s death from eric clapton and immediately went to the beatles office in london to hang out with everyone there.

(after finding out about george’s death) “i couldn't bare the thought of a world without george. when i left him for eric, he had said that if things didn't work out, ever, i could always come to him and he would look after me. it was such a selfless, loving, generous thing to say and it had always been tucked away at the back of my mind. now that sense of security had gone.”

the last time they saw each other was when george called saying he wanted to visit her new cottage and see her.

pattie didn't go to his funeral nor did she go to the memorial concert that took place a year later. but she spent that day high on the mountains thinking of george. “i was happy to mourn him alone and in my own way.”

she would have dreams of george after his death. “oh george, it’s so wonderful that you are alive after all, this is so fabulous; i knew they had all made a mistake.”

and then she’d wake up.

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randomestfandoms-ocs · 4 years

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On Evie Van Der Woodsen and Fashion

because @avengiers enabled me and I really wanted to talk about this

WARNINGS: fic spoilers and gossip girl spoilers, discussions of eating disorders (essay is below the cut bc triggers and length!)

So the thing about Evie is that her general style doesn’t really change that much, she’s always pretty cute and preppy and pastel, but the way that she approaches fashion is one of the major elements of her character arc and overall plot!

Pre-series Evie pretty much dresses like a baby Blair, but with more pastels! Where Blair wears a lot of bold colours, Evie sticks to soft ones, but she very much looks up to Blair and her style reflects that! As she grows up, she does definitely stick to the same preppy vibes she picked up on from Blair, but they become a bit more her own!

But, in the months leading up to the start of canon, Evie develops an eating disorder along with severe depression, which leads to she and Eric being in the Ostroff Center and Serena moving home, and it does make some noticeable changes in Evie’s style.

The main thing here is that Evie’s outfits basically immediately become looser — not in that they fit looser, although they do, but like, the shapes she wears.

This is something that pre-ED Evie would wear all the time!

Whereas going into canon, she shifts to fits like this

obviously these are very similar stylistically, but the shift from everything being skin tight to everything being slightly loose or flared is very deliberate and very important — and it’s actually what leads Blair to realizing what’s going on.

(you can also see it if you compare her masquerade dress to her debutante dress — which she doesn’t choose but is much more pre!ED Evie in terms of the slimmer fitting skirt)

Over the series, particularly in the first season as Evie is recovering, she does start to wear a few more slim fitting outfits again, but recovery is a process and some days are better than others

And speaking of some days being better than others, as an aside, in the episode where Evie gets outed (at Jenny and Asher’s party), she starts the night off feeling pretty okay and is wearing a dress that’s fitted through her stomach, but after she gets outed and calls Chuck to pick her up, she starts spiralling — she’s having a panic attack by the time Chuck gets there, and the very first thing he does is give her his coat, and she almost immediately begins to calm down once she’s wearing something she can sort of hide in

As the seasons go on, her style becomes a bit more flexible — she even wears pants and leather jackets sometimes (gasp!), and while she does still have bad days and bad weeks and bad months (because recovery is a non-linear process), she does begin to learn that her value isn’t entirely determined by how thin she is or what she wears

and that’s that about how Evie’s style changing is actually a crucial element to her plot, but there’s a part B to this rant, and it happens to be about Blair!

So I already talked about how Evie’s style is very inspired by Blair’s, and here I have a whole paragraph on Evie’s sort of hero worship when it comes to Blair, but Blair is also a very important factor in Evie’s style and how her fashion and mental health impact each other!

Blair is the second person (after Eric) to realize that something is wrong with Evie after Serena leaves. At first she figures that it’s just that she’s struggling with being abandoned by her sister, and at first that actually is all that’s going on, but as time progresses, it takes more and more of a toll on Evie and sends her spiralling into the realm of eating disorders — and Blair, having her own messy history with eating disorders, is the first person to figure that out.

Blair doesn’t bother trying to talk to Lily about it, she knows that anything Lily does would just make things worse (and she’s right; hiding Evie and Eric away in the Center is the absolute worst thing for Evie’s mental health but that’s another essay), but she does talk to Evie and, after a lot of debating, she talks to Chuck. She knows that Chuck is kind of a major asshole but she also knows that Chuck has had a soft spot for Evie since she was a little kid, and with Serena gone, she needs help.

And anyways that’s sort of also it’s own essay but basically by this point the Van Der Woodsens have just moved into Bart’s hotel so Chuck is pretty much always with the twins, and Blair is there as often as is humanly possible. (they haven’t moved in with the Basses like they do when Lily and Bart get engaged, but since they’re living in the hotel it’s easy for Chuck to just head to the twins’ suite). And one of the first things that Chuck notices after they move in is that Evie is always extremely anxious in the mornings when he’s meeting the twins to go to school, and anytime something comes up where she’ll need to choose an outfit.

He tells Blair (seriously, there’s a reason that the twins call them mom and dad lmao), who talks to Evie, and the short version is that choosing outfits always leads Evie into particularly bad dysmorphic spirals and panic attacks and it’s just a huge mess for her mental state — and anyways that leads to Blair offering to plan Evie’s outfits for her so that she doesn’t have to, and Evie is very very willing to take her up on that

and anyways all that to say that the other big distinctive factor in Evie’s wardrobe is Evie-Outfits and Blair-Outfits! The difference is subtle, but it’s definitely there! Generally speaking, Evie-Outfits tend to be a bit softer than Blair-Outfits, and Blair-Outfits tend to be a bit bolder (colour wise and style style). And even after Evie starts doing a bit better, Blair still plans a lot of her outfits, and those ones tend to also be a bit more revealing and daring, though still fitting their shared preppy vibes! As Evie gets a bit older and more comfortable in her skin, she starts to choose some more revealing and daring outfits of her own, but in the early seasons you (well, the people who know them both) can generally tell who picked the outfits based on how long the skirts are and how short the shirts are!

and yes this was a totally self-indulgent rant but I’ve definitely projected more than a bit when it comes to Evie’s relationship with food and outfit planning and how they connect, so it was really fun and interesting to develop that concept for her and it’s been really fun to think about while working on her pinterest, and then answering the outfit asks got me thinking a lot about it again so I just wanted to ramble a bit lmao, thank you for indulging me and thank you to anyone who bothered to read this entire thing, I promise it wasn’t meant to be this long lmao

#evie van der woodsen #about evie #freshman generation #meta rambles

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 4 years

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Home Part 2

Summary: Asher lands in the hospital but he’ll have plenty of support.

TW/CW: Steroids, a few swear words, angst/sadness, Jordan Baker x Adams!Reader

Word Count: 1,387

A/N: So I actually had to do some research to figure this out and obviously this is still an AU thing bc I haven’t made it past episode 10 yet to find out what actually happens. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! Requests and Asks open.

Your POV

I roll over and stretch my back before getting up from my recliner. Making my way to the kitchen, I’m careful to not wake Liv and Leila who are both asleep on opposite ends of the couch. They both stayed over last night after our girl’s night in. It’s good to finally be back with my best friends but it still feels like something is missing. Rather, I should say someone is missing. A couple someones to be fair.

I’ve now been back a week. However, that also means that it’s been almost a week since I saw Asher. The guys say he’s still shown up for practice but he won’t talk to any of them unless necessary for football. Jordan and I have started hanging out more. We’ve talked a lot about us and what happened but we still haven’t quite worked through everything.

I check my phone and find several texts and missed calls from Jordan. I read through the texts quickly before calling him. He picks up almost instantly, “(Y/n), you need to come down to the hospital asap!”

Already racing to my room to change, I ask, “What? Why? What happened?”

“It’s Asher. He started breathing really heavy during practice so dad benched him but moments later Asher he was having trouble breathing and said his heart was hurting. We’re here with him now but we can’t get back to see him yet, we’re not family and he’d kill me if I called your Mom or Dad,” he answers and I can hear the concern and worry heavy in his voice.

“I’ll be right there,” I say before hanging up and changing into some jeans and a sweatshirt. I race back down stairs and grab my keys. Liv and Leila are awake now and confused by my rush.

I write a note for Mom and leave it on the counter but Liv stops me before I make it out the door, “(Y/n/n), what’s going on?”

“Asher is at the hospital,” I say and step around her, “Just lock up before you guys leave please.”

I finally make it to the car and make my way to the hospital. After a long nerve wrecking drive, I finally make it and find Jordan and Coach Baker waiting for me in the lounge. They both join me at the reception desk as I hurriedly ask her where I can find my brother. Convinced I am his sister like I say I am, she tells me where he is but informs me that he’s asleep. I make my way to the room, and find he is in fact asleep but I take a seat beside his bed to catch my breath.

“Asher what did you do?” I mumble as I drop my head into my hands.

“I just wanted to be good enough,” I hear him whisper and I look up at him quickly.

I reach out and take his hand in mine, “Asher what makes you think you aren’t good enough?”

He turns his head to look at me, “Mom left, you left, dad hardly ever speaks to me, and no matter how hard I try I can’t ever get to where I want to be in football. I’m a disappointment and a failure.”

The tears in his eyes grips my heart and tears of my own begin to fall, “Asher, you are the best little brother anyone could ever have. I know I shouldn’t have left. It was selfish of me, just like it was selfish of Mom and Dad to treat you like they did. Football, though, you were and still are one of the best receivers that Beverly has ever seen. Sure, Spencer might have taken some of the spotlight but communication goes a lot further than sabotage and cheating. I know you both need the scholarship offers but they don’t have to come to just one of you. There’s plenty of schools out there and two of you. I know it’s hard feeling like you always live in the shadows but getting into the light takes work. Shortcuts only come back around to bite you in the ass.”

He squeezes my hand, “You’re right. I’m sorry I fucked up so royally. I need help...” He trails off as a doctor walks in the room.

“Miss Adams will your parents be joining us?” he asks.

I glance at Asher and find the answer on his face before shaking my head at the doctor, “No Sir, they’re both pretty busy right now.”

He nods before explaining to me the results of the various tests and a summary of any damage. Thankfully it isn’t too bad and he will still be able to play football. He finishes his findings and asks me to step out into the hallway with him. I look to Asher and silently ask if it’s okay for me to leave, but he immediately nods, “I’m okay, I need to sleep anyway.” So, I let his hand go and step out into the hall.

The doctor looks at me seriously and seems to examine me before speaking, “Miss Adams, I understand that not all parents do the best job but it may be beneficial to call them. Did you know your brother has been using Steroids?” I say nothing and only nod. He continues cautiously, “He will need to be committed to a recovery program before he can have a chance to play football again.”

I nod, “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll be sure to discuss it with him and decide on a program.” He nods in understanding before walking away. I poke my head back in the room but find Asher asleep so I decide to rejoin the others in the waiting room. As I round the corner, it sounds like there are more people than before so I change paths and head for the cafeteria instead. I have too many thoughts bouncing around my head right now to be surrounded by noise. I grab a drink out of the coolers and a candy bar before approaching the register. The attendant rings up the items and patiently waits as I dig around in my purse for my wallet.

Before, I can find it, however, someone else hands over some money. I look up to find it’s Jordan and then grab my things and find a seat in a booth. Jordan slides in across from but doesn’t say anything. I quietly eat my candy bar and stare out the window. He reaches out and takes my hand in his but still says nothing.

Deciding it’s time to get some of the information off my chest, I speak up, “Thank you for paying for my stuff. I think I left my wallet at home.”

Out of the corner of my eye I notice him shake his head, “Don’t worry about it.”

I take a deep breath, “The Doctor said the effects and damage are minor. There’re small amounts of damage to his kidneys and his blood pressure is up but after a recovery program and some ass kissing, he should be good to play football again. They said his heart looks okay but to keep an eye on it. He’ll have to be careful.”

“That’s good. Dad says he’ll be benched for a handful of games when he returns but he’ll get his position back after that,” he says, trying to bring some good news.

“Who all came?” I ask, changing the subject.

Jordan laughs, “Everyone. Liv and Leila showed up not long after you went back and the guys came in not long before you got back. We’re all worried about him and Spencer insists that we show him the same support that we gave him when he was in here, like our friends and family wouldn’t.”

Finishing my candy bar, I smile and get up from my seat, “I suppose I should probably give them an update.”

He joins me as I throw my trash away before heading back for the waiting room. Halfway there he stops me and wraps his arms around me. I hug him back as he kisses the top of my head, “You know we’re here for you, too right? I know it’s not really worth much right now but I'm right here if you need me.”

"It’s worth more than you think,” I mumble into his shirt before we pull apart and continue towards the waiting room.

Masterlists

#jordan baker #jordan baker imagines #jordan baker imagine #jordan baker all american #jordan baker all american imagines #jordan baker all american imagine #jordan baker x reader #all american #all american imagine #all american imagines #imagine #imagines

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vanchlo · 4 years

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The Firsts / #4, “The First Time Meeting The Old Best Friend“

*not my gif

---> NEXT BLURB: November 16th at the lastest, hopefully.

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

sorry i forgot italics in this one, it’s just too much sometimes to go back through and do

WARNINGS: Swearing?

WORD COUNT: 9k words

SONG: If I Didn’t Have you from Monsters Inc. (CLICK TO LISTEN)

* SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

The irony that sits in the possibility of replies sickens me, because there’s little else I want more than to sit down and have dinner with him. The normalcy and the ignorance to how things have so drastically changed, and so quickly.

I wonder if I have enough time to leave, but no, I can’t. He’s noticed, and knows that I’m home. He’s expecting me. If only he could know how that same feeling has overflown inside of me, and been pushed back down each and every time, a hunger that was never fed. I hang my coat, place my keys on the ring beside his, and leave my ankle boots on the mat by his chestnut brown chelseas, just like every other time. In every way I still find it dreamy, but it’s not the same, no matter how much I wish that I could pretend that it is.

“When I love, I love for miles and miles. A love so big it should either be outlawed or it should have a capital and its own currency.”

- Carrie Fisher

His humming pulls me from the lines of text growing hazy and forgotten in front of me. Tearing my eyes from my lap, I find him kneading his bottom lip between his fingers. A corner of my mouth greets my cheek as I observe him flip a page and his eyebrows sink closer to his pair of greens, concentrating.

“What are you humming?” I ask, cocking my head to the side and narrowing my eyes. The sound stops and his eyes shoot over to me, brows still hugging his eyes, now in confusion.

“Hmmm?”

“What song are you humming? I don’t recognize it,” I explain, standing from my seat. The smooth, tiled floor is a welcomed cold against my bare feet that plod a path towards his tall bookshelf.

“Oh, that. Um, Junk by Paul. God, I love that song. ‘ve been listenin’ t’ him loads with tha concert comin’ up. You should too, babe.”

“I will, thanks for the reminder,” I tell him, winding my arms around his neck and pecking his cheek. Watching the dimple fall into it, a happy hum radiates through my chest.

“Whatcha wanna do fer dinner t’night? We could eat those leftovers from last night, or I dunno, heat up a can o’ soup. Perfect weather fer it right now, ‘d say.”

“Both sound good. You can call it, but I’m going to go and refill our teas,” I answer, leaving another kiss on his stubbly cheek.

“Oh, thank you, love. I hardly noticed, been so engulfed in this bloody book.”

His smile matches mine when I look over my shoulder, his empty mug in hand as I slide my flats back on. Voices trickle out of the doors I pass on my way to the breakroom. Excitement leaks from them, questions, hushed whispers, and then, a name I recognize.

“Can you direct me to the office of Harry Styles?” a blonde woman asks Amelia at the front desk. With a hand on the door, I turn back around to watch.

“Yes, of course. And your name was?” Amelia asks in her sing-song voice, hands poised on the computer keyboard, probably checking the schedule.

“Penelope-.”

“Oh, hey, Becky. Filling back up too, I see,” somebody says, drowning out the rest of the woman’s words.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” I mumble to myself and only her, watching as Amelia types away. “Sorry, what’d you say, Ash?”

“I just saw you’re getting a refill too. After you,” he almost wheezes, but I don’t take note of it, my eyebrows still in a dip after what I just saw.

“What’s that look for, huh? Is somebody not happy to see me?”

“Of course not, Ash. I just saw- I dunno what I even saw,” I confess, setting down my pink mug I pluck from the cupboard, and Harry’s black one in front of the electric tea kettle.

“Everything okay? You look a little lost, or something.”

“Yeah, fine,” I say slowly, trying to remember if Harry had said anything about wanting coffee instead, but he’s already had two cups, and tries to stick to only two these days. It’s already almost time to go home for the day, anyways. Sighing, I pull open the tea drawer and pluck out an English Breakfast and a Peppermint.

“I heard you and Harry nabbed that huge McConnell case that everybody’s talking about. Congrats on that,” Asher comments, sticking a hand into the drawer after I moved to the side, ripping open the tiny packets.

“Oh, thanks. No pressure, or anything.”

“You’ll do great, don’t worry about it. If anything, it’s a good thing you have Harry. If the bloke is good at one thing, it’s winning cases,” he insists, and I only nod along as I free the string from the bags to place in the mugs.

A mumbled confirmation leaves my lips as the steam from the scalding hot water wafts over my face, filling the mugs, one and then two.

“We still on for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure thing, Ash. Talk later,” I smile at him, pushing my back against the door and turning around to walk down the hallway.

Juggling the two, steaming cups in my hand, I take my time walking back to Harry’s office. Quickly, I find that I’m not the only one on my way there, and soon, I pass Amelia on her way back. Smiles float between us, but mine falls away for some reason, and in only a matter of moments, I’d have so many reasons why.

His head is bent over that same book, and a hand missing that summer glow rubs over his tired face. I can see him from down the hallway, and my vantage point would end up being regrettable, if only I’d known.

“I didn’t know running your own firm was so tiring, Styles,” the frosty-blonde girl says when she stops in his doorway, and he immediately perks up.

No, that’s my nickname for him, I think immediately, stopping a few paces behind her.

“Nelly?!” Harry exclaims with absolute sunshine radiating from his face. “Hell, look at you. T’ what do I owe tha pleasure, love?” he continues in a voice brimming with astonished happiness, standing quickly to hold out his arms towards her.

“I was in the neighborhood and figured I might as well finally come and see you and My’s firm. It’s about time, sorry it took me so long,” she giggles in her posh accent, walking right into his arms where he holds her against him for several moments. Something twinges in my chest at the sight of it while I try to remember when I’ve heard him speak about her. I know he brought her up once, or somebody else did, but I can’t remember what they’d said. Who is this person?

“Yer bloody right ‘s ‘bout time, only took ya years and years. How’ve ya been? Ya look good, thirty looks smashin’ on you, y’know. Married Ben yet?”

“Thanks, but I reckon it looks far better on you, Styles,” this woman laughs and it sounds like a song, but I’m not sure if it’s one that I like. From the appearance of his crinkly-eyed smile, Harry likes it. “Nah, we split a few months back.”

“Damn, ‘m sorry t’ hear ‘bout that,” he remarks softly while she picks up and looks at things on his desk. His eyes roam over her, but I can’t blame him, because so do mine. They drift over her cropped, curly hair and the long-sleeved, polka dotted dress. Polka dots have never been my thing, but somehow she makes them look sexy and far from childish all at the same time.

I watch as she picks up the framed pictures sitting on his desk and when she grabs the largest of them all, something flits across her face before she hastily places it down. I only wish I could’ve seen what it was. Shaking my head, I lift a foot to turn around while her voice wanders over to me, and then his.

“I heard you’ve found somebody new, no longer with Amber, I see.”

“No, we’ve been split fer a few now. Ya, that’s Becks,” he comments warmly, and the next few of his words I can’t make out, until I hear some that I can’t ignore. “There she ‘s now. Hey, babe, c’mere. There’s sumbody I wantcha t’ meet!” Harry calls down the hallway to me. Gulping, I look up and down the other side of the hallway before turning around to find the smile of my boyfriend. One of my favorite sights, if not a little duller now.

The few moments it takes me to walk to his office are awkward, knowing that they’re watching me and my movements. I suddenly wonder if I need to touch up my makeup, fix my hair, or how this new, black dress really does look on me.

“Thank ya, love,” Harry smiles when he takes the black mug from my hands to sip from. My own lips fall when she plucks the pink mug from my hands with a similar notion, completely devoid of any apology or embarrassment, and neither is Harry. What the- “Nell, this ‘s me girlfriend and colleague, Becky Holte. She worked here as an assistant o’ mine befo’ she finished uni, and came back last January fer an associate position. She’s me mentee and ‘m her mentor fer tha next few years while she finds her footing, workin’ primarily with me on cases, includin’ tha new McConnell one.”

“I heard about that, Harry, congratulations. That’s very exciting . . for the both of you,” she grins from behind her mug of tea. My mug of tea.

“Oh, sorry. Becks, this ‘s Penelope Hautten, or as we fondly call her, Nelly,” he introduces, and she offers a small wave and an awkward smile. Yeah, you have no bloody idea how awkward this is. “We met in uni fer law in our cohort, same with Rose and Rory.”

“Hi, it’s great to meet you. I’d love to say I’ve heard loads about you, but it’s been a minute since I’ve spoken to Styles over here,” she says, holding out a hand tanned from fake tan that I reluctantly shake when I hear her next comment made in laughter. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this, I’d be upset seeing another woman being all over my boyfriend, too.”

“No, you’re okay,” is all I say at first, feeling a little better when I feel Harry squeeze my arm after swinging one around my waist. “It’s nice to meet you too, I think I’ve heard Harry mention you before. He sure has a lot of good things to say about all of his fun in uni.”

The words bring loud laughs to both of their lips, and for a moment, I think that I need to as well. I find it awkward to not be laughing, but by then, it’s far too late to begin.

“I just wanted to stop by to say hi and congratulate you on getting this case, it’s a rather big one. Actually, maybe we could talk some more about it over dinner? I was just on my way to Lenny’s on this side of town,” Nelly says, and yes, I do see the little glance you give to me before you bat your eyes at Harry.

“Thanks, Nel.’ ‘d actually love t’ pick yer brain ‘bout tha case, and over a sandwich and soup sounds fantastic, ‘specially with this cold weather comin’ in. Great timin’, ‘m starvin’,” he remarks with an eager smile, rubbing a circle into my back before it falls. “Becks, you don’t mind, d’ya? Maybe ya could see if Rose needs help with anythin’,” Harry comments after setting down his tea, raising an eyebrow at me. He nods almost instantly, walking around his desk to grab his Northface off the back of his chair to pull on.

“Yeah, I’d love to consult on it with you, Harry.”

“Y-Yeah, sure,” I mumble, lifting a hand in a lousy wave as they’re already walking down the hall and away from me. Their loud and happy laughter floats back to me as the image of her arm hooking around his waist burns in my eyes.

“Was that . . ?” somebody says, breaking into my thoughts. Blinking and turning my head, I see Rose standing in her doorway, down the hallway. “Oh god, was that Penelope?” she groans with a shake of her head, stopping when she sees me standing there.

“Yep, in the flesh. She took my tea,” I say with a turn of my palm to the sky, taking slow steps until I arrive at her side. I join her in watching them get on the lift with smiles stretching their lips. “And my boyfriend.”

“I never liked her.”

“Why not? Wait,” I ask and then pause, furrowing my brows as thoughts race around behind my eyes. “Was she the one in your friend circle in uni who- No, please tell me that’s not the one who had a crush on Harry?”

A sigh is all that graces my ears while she tucks a daring lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes and yes,” she answers.

“God,” I groan, losing a hand in my hair. “And she just stole my boyfriend for a dinner date, when we were just going to go for our Taco Tuesday. What the fuck?” I exhale, letting my hand fall with a slap! to my leg.

“You better keep a short leash on him when she’s around, that’s all I’ll say.”

“Rose-,” I begin, turning to look at her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you, love. I’m sure everything will be fine, it’s been years since all of that happened, she’s bound to have changed, or so I hope.”

“You said everything would be fine, and you know what, it’s not fine!” I exclaim, dropping my bag onto the chestnut colored chair in front of the desk. Inhaling, the breath passes my lips shakily, and I turn away to look around the office.

“Becky, what’s the matter, love? What are you talking about?”

“Her. Penelope . . She’s on the McConnell case with Harry, instead of me,” I reveal gently, but the words falling from my lips feel like anything but that to my heart. Sniffling, I swipe a hand across my cheeks.

“What, how do you-.”

“I just saw him in the break room. You know what, I didn’t see him all last night. He didn’t come home until late. I went to sleep in an empty bed, and woke up later around eleven when he came in, and didn’t say a word to me. But in the break room, I run into my boyfriend, my mentee, my boss, who are all the same person, and all he has to say to me is that he’s switched me to your case and her to his. He didn’t have time to say anything more, because what’s-her-face slinked in and stole him from me. Again. Rose, I-I don’t like this, what the fuck is going on?” I finish, spinning around to look at her through the hazy tears sitting in my eyes.

“Oh, Becky love, I’m so sorry,” is all she says before pulling me into her arms where I let the tears fly.

“Am I stupid for getting so upset over this? I dunno if I am, because I looked her up on Insta last night and her stories were of them getting dinner and drinks together and she put hearts all around him on it. T-Then, this morning he barely kissed me on the cheek before breaking the news to me, and nothing more. No ‘I’m sorry for replacing you at dinner last night’ or ‘I’m sorry for coming home late and not responding to any of your texts last night,’” I cry, catching whiffs of her floral based perfume, feeling her sigh before hearing it. “I’m not going through another fucking Amber phase with him, she was one and done for me. I don’t like this, I just want him back.”

“Come ‘head, love, time for our weekly team meeting.”

I remain silent, staring at the laptop screen unblinkingly, wishing it was the voice of another now saying my name.

“I don’t want to . . she’ll be there . . with him,” I answer, switching tabs and scrolling through my search results on the Silver Net database.

“Becky-.”

“I can’t, Rose, okay?” I nearly retort, turning my head to look at her patient, brown eyes. “You didn’t hear the stuff she said to me yesterday.”

“What’d she say to you?” she hurriedly replies with concern, sitting down on the chair next to me, pulling it over so she’s facing me.

“It’s what she didn’t say,” I respond, closing my laptop but nervous to meet her eyes. “With just my luck, I ran into her in the break room yesterday, just when I was starting to feel better the day after getting dropped from Harry’s case. She was asking me about him, and well, me. How long I’d known him, how long we’d been dating, blah blah. Then she couldn’t shut up about how she’s known him for over ten years, how they’d have all of these late study nights in the library together, and how they took their Bar together. Then, he came in and she just continued, rattling off the cases they won together in the beginning when they got their first real lawyer jobs. She knew what she was doing and so did I, she was showing how much better she is for him, and how I’m . . not.”

“As if anybody fucking asked her,” Rose tuts, shaking her head vehemently and getting to her feet. “You stay and keep checking on those statements we got, okay? You don’t have to come to the meeting, I’ll just debrief you when I get back.”

Nodding, I lift the lid of my laptop again and switch to Docs.

“Becky?”

“Yeah, Rose?” I say, my eyes flitting to the door where she stands with her hand on the doorknob.

“You’re sure you aren’t going to talk to him about this? I think the sooner the better.”

“I would, if I could get him alone, but I can’t. It’s like she’s always there, even outside of work, he’s out doing something with her. I dunno, I give up.”

“I’m really sorry, love,” she frowns, emphasis in her voice and the bend of her eyebrows.

“Thank you, Rose,” I answer with a small smile, watching her return it and leave the room. I almost jump when I hear the ding of my phone, and scrabble to pry it from my pocket, only to be disappointed with a text from Skye. As well as the memory staring back at me, teasingly, from my lock screen.

If only I could go back to that day, or just rewind life by a few.

The flecks of snow leave cold puddles in my hair as my fingers wrap around the cold handle. Gulping, I don’t twist it, and instead, I just stare and listen. I listen to the happy hum of music I hear coming from the other side, and to the obnoxiously nervous thrumming of my heart. He’s home, and for the first time in three days, it’s before eleven o’clock. I want to savor it, but the repressed thoughts have turned sour in my heart, building upon each other throughout the prior days.

The new cold that has embedded itself into the wind and the trees around me, is what brings me inside. Maybe there’s an ounce of wanting to see him, or a contradicting whole lot, but it’s the sudden cold that I can’t handle anymore, and how it’s much too like the same absence that’s grown in my chest.

“Ya hungry, babe?” he calls to me, the sound of the door opening something I’ve only gotten used to recently, but he’s mastered by now. Breathing in, I chase a deep breath, but it’s lost. Wasting the time until I have to walk past him, I sink down onto the bottom step to pry off my shoes. “I was gonna make sumthin’ fer dinna, but ‘m not sure what. Anythin’ sound good t’ you? Oh, I was wonderin,’ why weren’t you at tha team meetin’ t’day? Ev’rything’ alright?” he continues, despite my lack of an answer. The irony that sits in the possibility of replies sickens me, because there’s little else I want more than to sit down and have dinner with him. The normalcy and the ignorance to how things have so drastically changed, and so quickly.

“Becks?”

“I’m not hungry,” I softly decide on a few moments later, padding into the kitchen where he still stands in his work clothes from today. The shiny black number adorned with velvet edges now absent, and my ever favorite, the leopard button up. The pain still sings behind my ribs at the appearance of it in its lonesome, untucked from his slacks.

“How are ya not? ‘s five o’clock, love. I know ya have yer lunches at one, so ya must be starvin,’” Harry comments, but how would he even know? The fridge makes that noise it always does when it opens, the soft pop before the whoosh of the refrigeration. “Hey, where are ya goin’? I could make a pizza, or some spaghetti fer us.”

The words that he requires to his questions escape me, and in their place, sit the impatient ones that have been patient for far too long. Yet, I can’t find the right ones to say that feel right, but then again, all of this feels so wrong. Not one moment from the last few days has felt anything close to right.

“Becks,” he says, urgency laden in his voice, and I wonder why I didn’t just walk up the stairs and away from him when I had the chance. “Hey, why’re you ignorin’ me, love?”

If that didn’t do it, his hand on my shoulder, soft as can be, does. I try my hardest to not melt into putty in his hands, but he sidesteps that entirely, and walks around to stand in front of me.

“What, it’s only okay when you do it?” I bite back, but the fervor isn’t there in my voice. No, not yet, but it’s not what does it for him when he sees my face. It’s barely there, but the way his eyes widen, and his lips part tells me that he too feels the tears warming up my cold-bitten cheeks.

“Becks, I dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout. What’s tha matter, love?”

“Please, don’t lie to me,” I begin, a sob near and not too far. A swallow to wet my voice is anything but that, and I know it will only get worse as his eyebrows fall into the deepest V I may have ever seen.

“‘m not lyin’ t’ you, bug,” he insists, cocking his head. A whimper sounds from my lips when I pull my arm out of his grasp, and the effect is immediate, firstly in his eyes.

“You forgot about me, Harry. Our Taco Tuesday date . . watching the new episode of American Horror Story last night . . watching FRIENDS every night at dinner . . reading Harry Potter together every night before bed,” I say, the sob beginning its place behind my lips. “Ever since Nelly walked into your office on Tuesday, it’s been all about her! We’ve hardly spoken the last three days, and when we do, it’s ‘Nelly this,’ and ‘Nelly that.’ I’m your girlfriend, Harry, and I got fucking demoted by you, again!” the exclamation is dry, and yet with the sadness that leaps from my insides, no longer patient.

“Honey, ‘m sorry,” he tries with sorrow and everything else sewn into his features, but unlike every other time, I don’t want to take it and run. I don’t want to give in, or settle.

“Sorry doesn’t always cut it, Harry, you know that. You dropped me from your case without even asking me so you could have her help you! When we were talking about taking the case, you told me that it would be such a great learning experience for me. My first murder trial, and you gave it away to her! She’s seen how many murder trials, how many courtrooms, and known you for how long, Harry? It’s like I didn’t matter anymore the second she walked in your office. You didn’t answer your calls and texts, or if you did, it was hours later. I saw you on her Instagram story getting dinner and drinks every night this week, instead of having dinner at home, with me,” I explain, the tears wetting my lips chapped from the cold wind. “I don’t understand, Harry, what did I do or what didn’t I do? What does she have that I don’t?”

“Becks, please-,” he starts with a sadness in his voice that I don’t want to place or take ownership of.

“She loves you, Harry, I know it,” I say, and then, it all changes. His face does, and so do his words. He changes.

“What? What would make ya say that?”

“Don’t play dumb, Harry, I’ve seen it. I’ve only known her for a few days, and I see it. I see it in the way she looks at you, how anytime I’ve tried to talk to you at work this week she steals you back from me, and how much she sells herself to sound like you . . how she’s so much better for you than I am,” I tell him, the emphasis at last arriving in my voice. The bravery.

“She doesn’t feel that way ‘bout me, she never has. We’re jus’ good friends, ‘s all.”

“P-Please, I said don’t lie to me,” I stutter, squeezing my eyes shut at the sound of his words. The sting of the denial. “She does, even Rose told me she has ever since uni, Harry! Why can’t you see that?”

“There’s nuthin’ to see, Becks, ‘s jus’ best friends reunitin’ afta a few years. Ya wouldn’t understand . . ,” he spits back, disdain heavy in his voice, and now in my heart.

“I’m supposed to be your best friend, Harry, but I guess, not this week.”

“Jealous much?” he tuts with a shake of his head, his upper lip curling as his face takes on the look of . . somebody else. “Y’know what, ‘m sorry I dropped you from tha case, and yer all bitchy ‘bout that. I wanted t’ work onn’a case with me best friend fer ol’ time’s sake. I don’t see what’s so wrong with that! There’ll be how many mo’ murder cases, if that’s what yer really upset ‘bout. Nelly, she’s not in love with me, so stop bloody sayin’ that. Fookin’ f’get dinna, I don’t even wanna be ‘round you right now, yer bein’ pathetic and all jealous,” he retorts, and any words I had to say are drowning in the tears that crowd my cheeks.

“Harry, please. Don’t,” I beg him, turning to watch him walk away and shove his feet into his boots by the door.

“No, Becks. ‘m goin’ out fer dinna . . with Nelly. ‘ccordin’ t’ you, that’s all ‘m good at as of recent,” he says, and his voice drops when he says her name. So does my heart, and I’m sure it shows on my sleeve, because a hint of My Harry appears on his face just for a moment. Only a moment of regret and realness. I don’t wait to see if it remains, and dash past him to take the stairs two at a time until I find the guest bedroom, wishing that I could collapse onto our bed without it hurting me all the more.

It’s a few choked breaths until I hear the door to the garage slam, his car start, and then leave.

I guess I got my wish, afterall, to be alone.

The slamming of the door is what I hear next, and what lifts my heavy head from the pillow. Muffled curses pricks at my ears while I rub at my heavy eyes, a yawn leaving my lips. Blinking slowly, my eyes begin to fall shut and the pillow greets my head once more. Licking my lips, I grasp at the edges of the striped pillowcase, the remnants of my dream coming back to me. The sounds around me soften and so does the rest of my body, unbeknownst to me the hour, or the memory of the fight earlier. Nor did I know of the man who nervously climbs the stairs with a hole in his heart, searching for me.

“There you are,” he says, but I hear it in my dream, or so I think. Opening my eyes slowly, sleep is all but lost as his steps creak across the floor after opening the door noisily. “Oh, shit. ‘m sorry, I woke you up.”

I’d fall back asleep, ignoring him and it all, but I can’t after I hear the way the words fell from his lips. The subsequent sniffling and whimpers that adorn his words. Lying there staring into the darkness, my eyes slowly start to open more and so does my mind, and perhaps my heart. Having slept in another bed that wasn’t mine, I want more than anything to not have to fall asleep in an empty, cold bed tonight, without him. I just want things to be okay again, and to be normal. I had never before coveted the normalcy that we had only days ago, and how unknowingly happy I was living amongst it.

It pulls me to my feet and across the room blindly, and into his arms. For the first time in days, the tears don’t find me, but as I breathe in his smell, they belong to him now.

“Becks,” he cries from above me, his chest shaking under my touch. Sighing, all of the unspoken grievances spend themselves onto his skin, and hopefully, out of my heart. Little did I know.

“I don’t want to fight anymore, Harry, it’s okay.”

“‘s not okay, Becks, ‘s really not,” Harry continues, and as if in slow motion, I pull myself away from him. The glow of the streetlamp illuminates his features painted with sadness, and their rivers.

“Harry,” I begin, afraid of the words mounting on his lips as he presses his palms against his eyes.

“You were right,” is all he says and I’m stepping away, muttering frantic ‘no’s until I touch the bed, and sink onto it. His hands fall and in the scattered light amongst the darkness, I see the impending words weighing on his lips. “S-She kissed me . . t’night at dinna, we had been drinkin’ and . .”

The ‘no’s are lost entirely within moments, and my head falls into my hands. An emptiness that had been building within my gut over the last few days only intensifies, and if I’d eaten anything for dinner, it would have been lost by now.

“I stopped her, Becks, believe me. Please. I-I told her that she can’t, and I didn’t do it, too. I didn’t kiss her back, baby, I promise you that. ’m sorry, Becks, ’m so sorry,” Harry weeps. The floor creaks, but I’m too far away to know what it means, until his face falls into my lap. “I pushed her away, and told her that yer tha one I love, it could never be anybody else. I could never feel that way ‘bout her, I said that too, and how I love you so much and ‘ve been tha worst boyfriend t’ you ever since she came here . . . I-I made her leave, Becks, I swear. S-She’s gone and ‘m so fookin’ sorry I let this happen, baby, ‘m so goddamn sorry. I love you. I love you so fookin’ much, and ‘s only you. ‘s only ever been you.”

With a choked sound, I stand up and hardly feel the carpet pass under my feet, or the wooden steps that come next. I hear my name, the one that he gave me so long ago, and only swears by. Again and again, it comes, and I listen, but I don’t. After a while, the sobs bursting from me cover his voice, but they could never silence it. No, not my favorite sound in the entire world, and yet, at this moment, it’s the one that I hate most, because of the words it said.

“Becks, don’t. Baby, please,” he begs when I grab the keys and pull on my shoes. “Don’t leave. ‘m sorry, I promise she’s gone and isn’t comin’ back. You can’t leave anyways, ‘s a blizzard out there. They’re sayin’ people shouldn’t be drivin’ in it, ‘s tha first snowfall like this in October in a hundred years. I don’t want sumthin’ t’ happen t’ you.”

Stopping, my hand freezes on the handle, just like it did only hours before. Only then, things weren’t nearly as bad as they are right now. Sniffling, my shoulders fall and shake harder than before, and so do my words, “I don’t want to be here,” I sob, helplessly.

“I know, ‘m so sorry, Becks. ‘m so sorry,” he continues from behind me. I wait for the sound of his footsteps but they don’t come, and I’m not sure of my own, either.

Standing there, I’m uncertain of how much longer I can do it, to stand. Our cries fill my ears, and the ache of all aches weighs in my chest. With every second, it feels as if my legs are going to forget me, but there I keep standing, for how long I’m not sure.

“‘ll go, ‘ll leave you be. ‘m gonna pack a bag and stay at Myles’ down tha road . . Eat, babe, please. Have sumthin’ fer dinna,” he announces, and I swallow, past all of the anger and upset living in there. Blinking, the tears waiting in the dugout leave, and I see the cream of the door. I see all of the memories that happened even just there - the nights tripping in from too many drinks, the first nights at his place together, coming in after walks around the neighborhood, or surprising him after work with takeaway. They play before my eyes until freezing at the feeling of his lips on the crown of my head, and I close them. I wish that it could be like any other time, but the trembling of my lips tells me otherwise. “I love you, so much, Rebecca Ann. I love you, love you, love you,” he whispers before another peck, and then, he’s gone.

I don’t remember leaving him, or making my way to the downstairs study, falling into a fitful sleep on his futon with the sights and smells of him dancing around me. I only remember wishing that this was all a nightmare that he could wake me up from, and to not have to wake up to it, again.

The shrill sound of my alarm is what brings my eyes open the next morning, instantly groaning. Turning over, I press Snooze on my phone screen, again, and catch the picture that I haven’t been able to get myself to change. I could place it anywhere - a visit to The National Gallery to see Monet, Harry’s recent infatuation. It was a selfie gone wrong in front of the painting, Bathers, and instead features our large smiles in a blurry photo.

The time continues to tick away on the wall, and with every second that passes, life comes back to me, and walking back into my heart. I lay my head back down on the pillow and watch how the early morning sunlight peeking in through the shades dances across his study. The spines of his favorite books filling the shelf on the wall. Reflections painted on the screen of his trusty iMac. The ghosts stare back at me from the framed pictures around the towering object. His mum, sister, grandparents, the team at the firm, and then, there’s me. It’s the shiniest of all, absent of dust, and is in the biggest frame. He’s not even in it, like the others, because it’s just me. The pink and brown, patched quilt falls to my waist when I sit up quickly, squinting with my contactless eyes to see it. I had no idea he had printed it and framed it, to have in here, a snapshot of me from my birthday with a bedhead and a tired smile after opening presents. The accompanying frames hug the sides of his computer, but this one- no, not this one. It almost obscures the monitor itself, it’s so close, and it makes me wonder all the more if that says anything for how he holds me in his heart.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter under my breath, stabbing at the lit up number amongst the rows. Dragging a hand through my hair, sighs fill the air whilst I smooth down my wrinkled slacks, hoping I don’t look as shitty as I feel, like I know I do.

Not soon enough, the office comes into view, and I rush in. “I’m so sorry,” I apologize profusely, shaking my head as I set down my things in her closet where hers sit as well. “I just- I had a really terrible night, I know it’s no excuse, but-.”

“Would you stop apologizing? You overdid it when you rang me on your drive here, don’t worry so much, love. We all oversleep sometimes. I’m just glad you didn’t miss the team meeting, come on then.”

“God, another one? That has to be like two too many this week . . why?” I groan, following her out of the room with slumped shoulders. The realizations and realities don’t hit me until the second before I step foot into the conference room, searching for him. He’s nowhere to be found, and of course, it only makes me feel all the worse. I snoozed my alarm too many times and overslept, missed breakfast, forgot makeup, and now, my boyfriend I’m fighting with is MIA from work.

Could this week get any worse? Hmm, perhaps I shouldn’t jinx it, now.

“Where’s your lover boy at?” Rose taunts, but when my eyes stop their investigating, I find that she’s looking around with pinched brows, too.

“I’m wondering the same thing,” I answer softly, watching as more people fill the room, plucking bagels and muffins from the platter in the middle of the table. It would be calling my name typically, but no, something else is right now, somebody else.

“You go and find him.”

“But, Rose, they’re going to start-,” I begin, until Myles’ booming voice interrupts me from the front of the room.

Her firm green eyes don’t shy away from their answer, “It’s okay, go, Becky. He doesn’t usually miss these things, anyways. He’s gotten good at actually showing up to them for once,” she says with a soft smile, patting my arm and nodding at me to follow her words.

Nodding with a grateful smile, I weave around the cluster of familiar lawyers finding seats, and slip out the door. Searching the halls nearby is the first thing I do, but I’ve never been very lucky with that, and I’m not this time, either. I think I have it in the bag when I push open the door to his office, but despite the warm light pouring in from the windows and the ceiling lights, it’s a ruse. Harry’s not here, either.

Whirling around, I take a step towards the door until my mind catches on something. With careful steps, I turn back around and walk over to his desk, and I notice it. The mess. It hasn’t been this unorganized since well, when I worked as his assistant. He’s always kept it clean since I started working with him again, always having a place for everything, and keeping it that way. This is odd.

That’s pitched back onto the pile, forgotten, when the sun glimmers on something reflective. With another step, I catch sight of it, and like the other one did so perfectly, the guilt starts to bead inside of me. Inhaling suddenly, a smile lopsides my lips as I reach out to touch it. It’s just like the other one, and yet it isn’t, and in the best of ways.

As if it’s a mirror, my face stares back at me, and in so many ways. My staff picture for the firm that he took of me on a pair of steps on a walk together during lunch. Me riding the carousel when I had to be four or five. Pigtailed primary age me kicking a football along the field in a yellow jersey. Chubby-faced me smiling at the camera with only a few teeth to call my own, drool running down my chin. A candid of me at a staff party, and one that was long ago, when I was just his assistant. One to remember, a shot of me moments before my very first case with Harry, all dolled up in my lawyer attire. In the center of them all, they sit taped to a larger picture of me smiling so hard my dimple popped, in front of a path of autumn trees. A day only just a week ago if that, I realize, while admiring it.

Sighing, I reach a hand to brush underneath my eye, but I bump his white Apple mouse in the process. It wakes up his iMac and the sight of his screen is soon clouded with tepid tears. They fall, tasting briny against my lips, and heavy with guilt. In all of my time working with him, before, I had seen his computer. I had seen his laptop background. I had even seen his lockscreen, and it was never of somebody. No, it was a painting, song lyrics, a grocery list, or a sample background. It was never of a girl, but this time, it is. It’s him and me, some secret snap from a hike with Robbie this summer, overlooking the peak but smiling at each other while the sunset colors wash the sky.

God, I really do need to fix this, right now. And if I had any plans for what that would be like, they’re stolen away by the wind when I look up.

“Hey,” he says softly, worrying away at his bottom lip. His warm gray suit flutters when he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and if it weren’t for the lip thing, I know from this too that he’s nervous. Anxious or not, he looks unforgettable in that suit - the very one he donned for our first date, and I requested for so many more that he finally told me ‘no,’ because he had so many others.

“I was looking for you,” I reveal slowly, my voice shy and distant, although I try so hard.

“I was jus’ lookin’ fer ya too.”

Silence falls into the space between us and claims it, separating us all the more with the desk in between us, and his figure across the room. Words fill me to the brim, and I didn’t know it a moment before, but these ones are impatient too. They grow heavy and needy when I see the glassy look to his eyes, and then disappear altogether when the first tear drips down his cheek.

“‘m so sorry, Becks. I know I fooked ev’rythin’ up, and I understand if ya wanna break up- I-,” Harry weeps, his voice giving out on him. His dingy, flat curls move when his head shakes from side to side. My heart aches with each beat, and only sinks further when those pretty greens run away from me to hide in his hand.

“Harry,” I begin in the worst of sighs, my rushing feet not quick enough to get me over to him. “You didn’t fuck everything up, you’re not even capable of that. Breaking up hasn’t crossed my mind, I promise.”

“What?” he breathes, his hands falling at last. They’re slick with tears when I wrap them up inside of my own. Shock paints his face and stills the tears in his eyes that glue to me immediately.

“Just shut up and kiss me already, big head,” I refrain, freeing his hands and grabbing his face until my lips touch his. Surely, I’ve surprised him, but it’s only seconds until he kisses me back. Her face pops into my head, and I kiss him harder. The thought of her kissing him comes next, and I lose my fingers in his hair. I try to find my ground by focusing on the feeling of his stubble underneath my fingertips, and his smell. It smells like home.

“Baby, ‘m still so sorry,” he mumbles against my lips in between kisses.

“It’s okay,” I assure him, pressing pecks to his mouth with hurried breaths. The image of his wet green eyes find mine again, and it’s like my heart didn’t just get sewn back together in the last minute like I’d thought.

“‘m sorry, Becks, fer ev’rythin’ this week. Ignorin’ you, droppin’ you from tha case, comin’ home late, and our row last night,” Harry starts with tears growing in his eyes. Shaking my head, I pull him against me, and find his neck with my nose. “I was such a prick t’ you, I can’t believe it. Ya don’t deserve tha way I treated you or talked t’ you. ‘m so sorry.”

“I know, Harry, it’s okay. I forgive you, it’s okay,” I coo, trailing my nails against the back of his neck, catching the soft curls there. “I was to blame too, I should’ve talked to you right away, and not waited. I-.”

“No, don’t, Becks. ‘s not yer fault, none o’ it, it was all me,” he insists with a sob. I shush him, and lay my head on his shoulder, wishing to know how I could make this all go away. Hushed ‘it’s okay’s fall from my lips as I rub hearts into his back, wishing I could rub and rub until it was all better. Finally, the silence feels comforting, and no longer dangerous.

The sniffles have slowed and almost stopped once I pull away, catching a tear budding on the end of his nose. A corner of his mouth greets his cheek as he catches one under my eye.

“I’m sorry I got so upset last night over that stupid kiss. I know that you’d never do something like that to me . . it wasn’t your fault, Harry,” I say, brushing my thumb over his untidy stubble along his cheek.

“Thank you . . ‘m sorry I didn’t believe ya and got all defensive ‘bout whatcha said. Yer me girl, nuthin’ will ever change that,” Harry hums, sponging a kiss to my forehead. “I got so excited t’ see Nelly at first, but she kept tryin’ t’ keep me away from you, and I shouldn’t have ignored it.”

“It’s okay, it’s all over and done with.”

“Mmmhmm,” he hardly smiles, looking down at me.

“I’m your girl, huh?”

“Always, baby,” he confirms, his lips slowly spreading to shine that sunshine on me. “Hey, why tha tears when I came in, bug?” Harry shushes, leaving kisses along my face until I’m giggling.

“Your pictures,” I say amongst the attack of kisses, hearing his confused ‘hmm?’ from somewhere on the other side. “Nothing, I just- I know. I really know, now.”

“Good, silly girl, wantcha t’ never f’get that. Yer all mine,” he nearly sings, his lips drifting to my jaw and then my neck. “Love you, love you, love you.”

“I love you more,” I sing back in reply, but then my breath catches when his giggle tickles my ear. “Don’t you dare! Harry!” I chuckle.

“Do what, love?” he asks, the mischief sparkling in his eyes when his lips leave my skin to smile at me now.

“I swear to God, Harry Edward,” I titter, my words collapsing into laughs.

“I love you most,” he claims with a loud wheeze, tittering into the corner of my neck soon, making us both laugh.

“That’s my line!”

“Seems I got t’ steal it this time, bug, and fook, did it feel good t’ finally get t’ say,” he comments, earning a dramatic sigh from me. “So, what d’ya say t’ skippin’ tha team meetin’ like ‘d planned, and orderin’ brekky and catchin’ up on that show o’ ours?”

“Perfect.”

“Good answer,” he smirks, touching his lips to mine before pulling me in to wrap me up in my favorite place in the whole wide world, his arms.

“Are you ready yet? God, I swear you take longer than me, Harry, and I’m the gender who’s said to take the longest in the bathroom!”

“Ya well, ‘s not very hard t’ bloody braid yer hair, throw on some gym clothes, and a hat, now ‘s it, Ms. Holte?” he calls back, and I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. With a sigh, I take a seat on the bottom step and let my chin fall into my palm.

“Oh, would you stop? All you had to do was spray your hair and spike it, and write some words on your face with eyeliner.”

“Be nice t’ me,” he remarks from above me, his voice coming closer. Cocking my head, I see a glimpse of him until at last, he comes into view. His grumpy face doesn’t last very long when he sees the dimple fall into my cheek, and soon, so are his. “How do I look, Ms. Green?”

“Great, Mr. Geller. You really nailed the nineties spiked hair,” I say, my words falling into a giggle that he shakes his head at.

“Why thank you, ‘m rather proud o’ it too.”

“I still can’t believe who you said we should go as instead.”

“Keep teasin’ me and maybe we will go onna break,” Harry jokes, arriving at the bottom stair and soon returning to sit beside me with his pair of Old Skool vans in tow.

“Hush,” I retort, knocking shoulders with him. Smushing the hat back against my head, my head falls onto his shoulder and I wind one of my arms around his. “You did good on the whiskers, I like them,” I note, dragging the back of my finger against his baby-smooth cheek.

“Thanks, babe,” he mumbles while pulling on his shoes. Turning to me, the fake, black whiskers are obscured by his lovely dimples. “Ya really did do a great job with yer costume too, love, and t’ think we jus’ used what we had. We’re rather nifty, ‘d say,” he says, tapping a finger against my nose.

“Thanks. I can’t wait to see how cute we look together.”

“Then let’s go look, shall we, Rachel?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrows, and I nod as he kisses my forehead.

Taking his hand, I stand up and follow him through the house until we arrive in the main floor’s bathroom, staring into the floor to ceiling mirror. A laugh immediately sputters from my lips and one from his too.

“God, we look stupid.”

“I hope that means we did good with our costumes,” he titters, inspecting his hair until I softly swat at his shoulder. “Ya really outdid yerself with tha pigtails, babe. Me black cap looks great on you, as does tha rest o’ yer outfit that’s mine. Ya always blow me away by how sexy ya look in me clothes.”

“Okay, bud, would you chill out?” I chuckle whilst he sponges kisses down my neck from behind me now. “Harry, we haven’t even left for the party yet and you’re going to mess up your makeup.”

“‘s okay, ‘s supposed t’ look a li’l messy since Ross was drunk in that episode.”

“Harry, stop it,” I giggle when his lips wander to below my ear and his hands to my ticklish waist. “Kissy time can wait until later, mister.”

“Hmmmph, yer no fun.”

“I’m sure we’ll both be loads more fun when we’re tipsy later,” I note, taking his hands in mine and leaning into him.

“Oooo, don’t tempt me, babe. Already wanna kiss all over you, yer not helpin’.”

“Harry, I’m dressed as Rachel from the football episode in nothing but sweats. How in the hell is that sexy?” I wheeze, squirming when his fingers find just the right place on my ribs, because he’s gotten it memorized by now.

“Told ya that ya look like sumthin’ else when ya wear me clothes. Plus, there’s never a time where ya don’t drive me mad with how beautiful ya are.”

“Harry,” I sigh happily, opening my closed eyes to watch him litter kisses along my face in the mirror. “You know, I bet we’ll even win best couples costume.”

“Hmmm, ya think?” he wonders aloud, lifting his head to look back at us, and in my eyes. Gently yanking on my pigtail, I giggle as I turn around and thread my arms around his neck. “Y’know what, reckon we look cute t’gether even as Ross and Rachel, but always as Harry and Becks.”

His sunshine spreads a wider smile on my face as I hide my blushing face in his neck. The olive green button down of his slips under my fingers from behind his neck, and then again, I see the cat face scribbled on his face and ‘Ross’ written on his forehead from that one episode of FRIENDS.

“We make a good team, huh?” I ask him, my fingers dancing over his beaming face.

“Ya, we sure do, babe. And we’ll make a better one if ya don’t mess up me makeup I took far too long t’ put on.”

“Okay, fine,” I relent, my thumb drifting along his cheekbones before it finds his bottom lip. “How’s this spot?”

“That works just fine.”

“Oh, you don’t say?” I snicker, pulling down his warm lip only to have it spring back against his teeth.

He shakes head with red cheeks while humming a response, but it doesn’t go very far until I envelope his lips with mine, sure that I’m screwing up his makeup but neither of us care. The kiss only grows sweeter when I think of the last Halloween that we spent together, and how this one is already starting off miles better.

We really have made it, haven’t we?

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ambitionsource · 4 years

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Any Asher Lucas head canons I really love their friendship?

hello anon i am back as promised with the second half of answers to the lucasher asks i got a handful of weeks ago!! seeing as its the tail end of asher’s appreciation day, i am here to deliver on discussing their friendship

so to start, i would say that marking dylan as an outlier and not to be counted (especially on asher’s end), both of them would without a doubt call the other their best friend. asher flexes a bit on this, as jade is also arguably his bestie, but for lucas there’s absolutely no contest. asher is his best friend -- he even said so in 209, which took a lot of emotional vulnerability for him to manage to verbalize -- and that title really means something to him.

to that point, though, i think it took the events of s2 for that to really cement. as we know, lucas has issues with connecting with + trusting others, and so he kind of keeps people at arm’s length. i think asher has always been a bit of an exception to this rule (which i’ll explain in a bit), but lucas was mentally able to still keep him removed emotionally in his mind bc he was like... you know, his inferior in rank / his lieutenant rather than an equal. i don’t mean that he like thought of asher as inferior, because he doesn’t -- lucas hates himself so he thinks everyone is better than him anyway lmao, but he’s also had a lot of respect for asher -- but there was able to be this... mental barrier in his head, if that makes sense. but when asher finally stood up to him, multiple times (in 207 with their argument and then in 208 when he Truly put his foot down and basically walked out of his life), that put them on equal footing on all levels and broke that barrier in his brain. and, thusly, is part of the reason lucas was suddenly able to articulate it in the following ep

but, on that note, one thing that i think makes them such good friends is that they’re both very like... not mushy. at least, not with each other. they both don’t mind side-stepping more complicated emotions and just assuming things are unspoken but understood, but are getting better at knowing the moments where something should be said

but they’re like equally weird about the same stuff, like they both don’t like birthdays + being paid attention to on their bday bc they don’t know how to process it (sans the exception of dylan, who of course asher will allow to be extra on his birthday), so they will straight up just like not tell each other happy birthday on their bdays and people are like doesn’t that upset you?? did he forget?? and they’re like no actually lucas / asher is my favorite person bc he ignores my birthday fDSJLFKGSJKGLJSGL like... they’re so fucking weird

asher is constantly trying to improve lucas’s fashion sense + design sensibility and it does not work. like nothing sticks. asher will spend an hour casually (but actually very intently) telling lucas about the nuances in color between shades and then later when he asks him a question about which shade of red they should use in the set design lucas goes “idk they look the same to me just pick one” and asher is like. bitch ur jokin... it’s lowkey funny that he keeps trying tho like lmao

so in terms of asher being slightly different than others even early on, the way this most manifests is that i think for whatever reason, asher feels safe to lucas. its an inexplicable thing, and something i dont think lucas even really realizes consciously. but he starts their friendship being like oh i’m gonna protect asher the strong must protect the sweet this lame nerd needs me, but then what it actually ends up being is more that lucas needed asher. like yes he gets asher to loosen up and let out more of his authentic self, but asher gave lucas a friendship to anchor to, someone who seemed to genuinely like him not because he was reckless or cool but just because of who he is. and even when he fucked up, asher still seemed to believe he could be better / saw him as more than that, and lucas had never had anyone in his life before like that, let alone someone where it felt that way (i.e. dylan also sees lucas that way especially now, but something about asher just made it so pointedly clear)

and how this ends up changing things is that lucas finds that like... he wants to talk to asher. he wants to be real with him, not put up the defensive, aloof façade. so you have lucas going to convince him to sneak out freshman and sophomore year so they could hang out just the two of them (a thing featured briefly in the “younger” sequence in 208), and those were the moments where he got in those conversations. and asher liked those nights too because they made him feel special, like all the people lucas could choose to hang out with and he chose him to bother and coax out into the night... for a kid like asher, younger than everyone else and an anxious mess and nerdy and he knows it, that’s like. the craziest thing ever. so those one-on-one hangouts meant a lot to both of them, though for different reasons

what’s nice too is that their friendship definitely matured and grew with them the longer it lasted, because there was an element of hero worship on asher’s end and almost belittling underestimation on lucas’s end when their dynamic started, but then it grew organically past that. and when they actually got to know one another, for all their complexities, it made them better friends. and now those misconceptions are long gone, but they still hold a lot of respect for one another.

also to this point, i do not remember if i’ve said this yet on the blog or not but so major point here -- asher was actually lucas’s first (and only, pre-riley) crush. being demisexual, he has to form a deep emotional connection with someone before he really falls for them (riley being semi the exception to this because even though he didn’t really fall for her until they became friends from the get-go he was like okay so she pretty....... whatever tho idc like uh huh sure lucas). and like late in freshman year, maybe even early that summer, lucas and asher had become pretty good friends and were spending a lot of nights hanging out together and talking, and one of those nights they were talking about something semi-serious, and lucas was just looking at him and just realized like wow hm i could kiss asher... and then he was like WAIT HUH?!?!?!?!?!?! cause he’d NEVER had thoughts like that before and suddenly he was having them about his best friend, and that best friend was dating his other good friend and it just FREAKED him out he was like HELLO BAD WEIRD WRONG??? so he stifled that deep down and lowkey ignored asher for like two weeks until it passed -- which of course made asher worried he did something wrong or pissed him off, but thankfully that passed without much commentary or further discussion. lucas has mostly forgotten about it now.

that being said, if you ever told asher he was lucas’s first crush, he would never ever believe you.

they really enjoy discussing / debating each other, especially since lucas is truly equally as clever as asher, but it’s a really careful line because one wrong comment from either of them can send them tipping into actual argument bc they’re also very good at pushing each other’s buttons. this is why dylan’s presence is extremely helpful at keeping them balanced.

and this is kind of a key trait to their best friendship, which is that they make awesome best friends, but my god they would make TERRIBLE romantic partners. they cannot communicate when it really matters (especially about stuff that makes them embarrassed like romance, which they can barely do with their actual partners); they push each other’s buttons; they love each other’s flaws as friends but would drive each other crazy as lovers. like the people they’re with for love are exactly the people they need, understanding, soft, patient, and good at communicating. if lucas and asher dated, they would kill each other within the first week.

one of the first times dylan, asher, and lucas really hung out as a trio involved “wilding” asher, which meant dressing him like lucas and getting him to be more reckless and freewheeling for an afternoon. they didn’t do anything crazy, but lucas let asher borrow one of his t-shirts and snapbacks for the occasion. asher still has both buried in his closet, mainly because he keeps forgetting about it but also because there’s a sentimentality to them. not that he would ever ever wear them again -- yuck. asher would rather vomit

it should not be understated that the first people lucas verbally said i love you to were asher and dylan. it’s important. don’t ever forget it.

-- Maggie

#sorry this is a bit scattered but im so glad you love them!!#they deserve it!! they have one of the best friendships on the show #loving male friendships... its what we deserve #they love each other. they do. even tho they cant speak #lucas x asher #ad: asher garcia #asher garcia #lucas james friar #Anonymous #ask and you shall receive

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fayevalcntine · 4 years

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I don’t understand what Rory sees in Logan. My best guess is that she gets swept up in his carefree attitude bc she’s never really been able to have that and is always worried about what her mom thinks, her grandparents, the town etc, and I can see that as a coping strategy in the revival when she feels like she’s failing. But I just don’t see that as lasting/becoming as serious as we are meant to think they are in season 6/7

I think you've got a good point there when it comes to what Rory likes about him. To me their relationship in season 5 seemed to exist for the sake of Rory "discovering" the "good" side of the rich world, i.e. the fun and carelessness of their parties, the lack of worry when it comes to the consequences of their actions (like Logan breaking into the cafeteria for her to get the cereal she wanted), the unpredictability of Logan himself (going to New York on a whim after he gets pissed off at his father, spending time with her one week and then not paying attention to her the next). I think that the season did a fair job at displaying the really negative side of Rory's behavioral change though, because as we've talked about her sticking with people with stronger personalities and sometimes even mimicking them in her own actions (like with how she spontaneously went off to New York to see Jess and skipped a day in school), she steals a yacht with Logan's help after she feels diminished over Mitchum's words.

This sort of thing carries into the beginning of season 6, because Rory by then has dropped out of school and has pretty much limited herself to her grandparents' world purely because she feels like she has nothing else to amount to now. But as the season goes forward, we never see Rory somehow immerse herself with enthusiasm in the whole DAR/rich parties thing (as much as r*gan shippers love pretending she did and she somehow loved it). Rory can easily do things like organizing parties and telling waiters what to do because it's basic stuff for her, but she's not doing it because she wants to choose the same life her grandmother lives as a stay-at-home rich wife; she's doing it because she thinks her original plans for her future are gone now, so there's nothing else to do for her. The whole 'persona' she embodies during that time is shattered once Jess comes back in her life and she finally gathers the courage to pick her life back where she left it off. Logan's a key player in how Rory goes through those changes at that time, because he introduced the "good" side to being rich and careless, but he also inadvertently allowed her to go too far when she committed a felony because to him, it's not a significant thing to do. Logan embodies both the "good" but also the extremely privileged sides of being rich, even when he considers himself unlucky by being pushed through one door in his life: he can commit felonies without having to worry that they'll ever leave a permanent mark on his life and his 'promising' future, he already has a secured job for him that he will immediately take over, and a highly ranking one next to his father, at that (in comparison to Rory 'climbing the latter'), he can even destroy public properties and be a kleptomaniac with rich people's valuable ornaments without ever having to worry that he'll get in trouble or pay for it. He can even be kicked out of multiple private high-schools and take time off of Yale and still come back without any issue.

It's pretty telling how their relationship is abruptly put to a halt the minute that Rory 'wakes up' from her depression over Yale and her future career, because Logan's presence isn't really necessary to her story anymore. And after that, it's either by his own insistence that they get back together or by him almost dying that they stay together in spite of the obvious issue with him not communicating with her in a healthy way at all (over the bridesmaids, not taking no for an answer from her, only victimizing himself over his decisions and never accepting it as his fault, even breaking up with her through his sister).

Given that we know what Amy's plans for season 7 are now, I don't think we were meant to see the relationship as serious as it's somehow given to us in season 7 either. And even taking into consideration season 7 as it is, I can only see Rory and Logan as a relationship meant for her years through university, just as Rory and Dean were meant to be her relationship for her years during high school. Even when they seem to have zero issues on the surface, the relationship ends, again, when Logan says it should, because Rory isn't ready to marry him right out of uni (signifying the general problem that he doesn't simply take no for an answer and doesn't ever want to compromise with her in the long run).

As for the revival, you're right, I think the best (and correct) interpretation of their affair is Rory going back to a relationship that she had during her successful years at Yale, when her future still seemed promising and unknown to her. It reminds me of Lorelai falling back into a relationship with Chris when she felt rejected by Luke, or considering picking it up again after she ended her engagement with Max.

I personally would've preferred it if their relationship had ended at the very least after the bridesmaids incident, because at this point, Logan's relationship with Rory just doesn't bring anything new or worthwhile to her development or character. And I would've preferred for Rory to simply have a season, or at least half of one, where she's single by her own choice, and she doesn't actually mind it, or finds anything wrong with it. I hate that in the only season that she was single, she was still likely hurting over Jess leaving, and felt like she had to date simply because "that's what college kids do". Even Paris having an affair with Rory's professor of all things felt like it was sometimes used as a 'reminder' for Rory that she doesn't have a boyfriend, which makes me want to heave, considering how Asher was taking advantage of a 19 yo Paris at the time.

#gilmore girls #anti rogan #anti logan huntzberger #sort of?#answered #anonymous #i also feel like the writers dragged out dean and logan for SO LONG #like we had to suffer through dean for FIVE SEASONS #NOTHING IS WORTH DEAN FOR FIVE SEASONS #i demand compensation for my time; Amy!

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thewhumperinwhite · 4 years

Text

WKW: To Bid You All Welcome (Part 1)

@faewhump @luminouswhump

TW for: implied future public humiliation, discussion of minor character death, references to amputation.

Set up and Sad Brother Feelings bc next part is gonna be...…. spicy, y’all.

----

They crop Asher’s hair short, too.

That— hurts Andry, almost more than his own, all the more so because Asher takes it so much in stride. He raises his chin to look Andry in the eyes and tells him seriously that it will be easier to take care of, since he has not been permitted a hairbrush. He speaks similarly of limited rations he is given: if he is not allowed to go outside, he hardly needs three hearty meals to carry him through the days; they go faster when he sleeps more, as he does when he’s hungry.

That one Andry knows is a lie—no one sleeps better hungry—but Andry does not waste their single allotted hour together trying to weaken Asher’s stiff upper lip. Asher waits for Andry in the small, mostly-emptied guest quarters he’s been given with his head held high, and when Andry pulls him into a bone-crushing hug he grumbles as though he doesn’t want it at the same time that his narrow hands make tight fists on the back of Andry’s shift.

“You look terrible,” Asher tells him when Andry sits beside him on the narrow bed. He looks down at the iron manacle that covers Andry’s wrist stump, curious in much the same way Thorne had been. Andry has a bizarre urge to hide his arm behind his back— as though he’s happy to strip down in front of an enemy soldier but squirms under his own brother’s eyes on his injury. He forces himself to stay still and let Asher look his fill.

“Can you still feel it?” Asher asks in a voice halfway between troubled and awed. “Guard-Captain Petry says that sometimes people can still feel bits that’ve been cut off. They still itch, and that.”

“Captain Petry says haggis comes from a whistling animal called ‘the wild haggis,’” Andry says lightly, hoping to earn a smile. “It doesn’t feel like anything.”

That is a lie of his own. While he feels no phantom of his missing hand, the iron of the manacle itself itches and burns against his skin, enough to wake him sweat-drenched from the few hours of sleep he’s snatched since everything ended, tumbling breathless out of a dream where he has stuck his arm into a wasp’s nest. The last of the House’s magic burning out of him, presumably. He tries not to think about it too much.

“Did they kill him too?” Asher asks him calmly.

Andry comes back to the present moment with a crash. “Kill who?” he croaks, his throat dry.

“Captain Petry.” Asher looks back up at Andry, his face serious. “He must’ve fought the soldiers when they came. Did they kill him?”

Andry stares at Asher. The truth is, he’s been told Crane has closed most of the house guards in the holding pen underneath the barracks, in the hope that some of them will be willing to trade service for freedom. He has no idea how to say any of that to Asher. In a way it’s worse than knowing the guard captain is dead.

“You can tell me the truth, Andry,” Asher says. “I already know they killed Father.”

Andry just about swallows his tongue, and of course that is when someone knocks loudly on the door, and Thorne barges into the guest room with a redundant, “Knock knock, little Princes!” in a sing-song voice.

“Our hour isn’t up,” Andry snaps, and catches himself in just barely enough time to tack on a “sir” that sounds even halfway sincere. Thorne grins his sharp-toothed grin at him.

“Indeed not,” Thorne says, and he tosses two bundles of cloth at Andry and Asher. “You can use your last fifteen minutes to get changed!”

Andry misses his bundle. He has still not mastered how to compensate for his missing hand. He watches the cloth land on his lap, and doesn’t hear the next words Thorne says because he is thinking of the balcony, of bloody gold hair slipping through his fingers.

“--sence,” Thorne is saying with a wide smirk. “I’m escorting you there in half an hour, and you’re to be pristine and well-attired by then.”

“Both of us?” Asher says in alarm. Andry sits up very straight. “What kind of banquet?” Andry watches Thorne’s answer, heart thudding.

“It’s a welcome, to all the nobles who have pledged their fealty to the White King of Colomur,” Thorne says, apparently liking the way the words feel in his mouth. “There’s quite a few of them, you’ll find.”

Asher stares at him, almost hurt at the thought that the nobility of Craetalia would turn against the house of Fourshield so readily. Andry isn’t particularly surprised; half the nobles will be grateful for any change of leadership that might provide opportunities to secure favor with a new ruler; of those that remain, half resent his father’s bull-headed treatment of foreign nations and the other half don’t care who is King as long as he leaves them to bugger their servants in peace. That’s hardly the problem. Andry stands, holding the clothing he has been given in loose fists, and bows to Thorne respectfully.

“Please, sir,” he says towards the floor. “Asher has not spent much time among the Court. Surely he can add little to such an event beyond the risk of offence.”

Thorne leans in the doorway, looking at Andry with frank amusement. “I’m sure that’s true,” he says. “I imagine he’s there to keep you in line, Your Worship.”

Andry looks up at Thorne through his lashes without raising his head. “Have I stepped out of line thus far, my lord?” he says softly.

Asher makes a very quiet noise of distress beside him. Andry tries to pretend he has not heard it.

Thorne laughs, shaking his head, and begins shutting the door. “No you haven’t, which is why I’m letting you change unsupervised. I’m escorting you both down in ten minutes, regardless of how dressed you are, so you’d better get started.”

Andry watches the door swing shut, and allows himself a moment to hate Thorne with his entire being. By the time he turns to Asher, his face is under better control. “Go on, we’d better change quickly. I’ll help you with the laces.”

Asher is staring at him, his eyes wide. Andry looks away quickly, and shakes out the garment he’s been given. He feels himself blanch, looking at the white silk.

“You can’t wear that,” Asher says in a stricken, horrified voice. “You can— you can bow your head to that murderer if you want to, but you can’t— “

“Don’t,” Andry says, and Asher pulls up short. Andry doesn’t see the look on his face, because he cannot look at him. “Don’t, Asher. I can’t— “ He closes his eyes, forces himself to breathe out. “I am going to keep you— us— alive. That is the choice I am going to make. If I cannot keep both my pride and our lives, I will give up my pride first.” He opens his eyes, breathes, makes himself look at Asher. Asher’s eyes are swimming with tears. “I am going to give it up because we will both die otherwise. Do you understand?”

Asher, so quietly Andry can barely hear the words, says, “You shouldn’t have to.”

Andry takes another breath, and begins to unlace his shift. “We don’t have any ‘shouldn’ts’ left,” he says.

#whump #the winter king's ward #original whump #royalty whump #defeated and trophified #amputation

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narugen · 4 years

Text

thank u @sugakun for tagging me!! ^__^!! i havent done one of these in so long so i rly appreciate it :D

rules: answer 17 questions then tag 17 (say the name) people

nickname: egg isnt my real name so i guess theres that :-O my friend used to call me nut too bc my ig user was nutfucker69 once

zodiac: cap sun, taurus moon and aries rising! i know it didnt ask for the other two but hey :smirk:

height: 5′0 or more commonly known as 154cm

hogwarts house: took the thing twice a few years back and got hufflepuff idk what that means tho

last thing i googled: genetically modifying ecoli to degrade oil (help)

song stuck in my head: (!!! shell i love 1% so much!!) the song stuck in my head is left and right by svt <3!! its rly catchy stan svt

number of followers: 65 can we get 4 more pls

amount of sleep: LMAO i used to sleep at like 11pm and wake up at 6am for school now i do not care.... i usually sleep at 1/2am now and wake up at idk 9am? (but this is only bc we’re learning from home so no travel time) perhaps the amount of hours is the same

dream job: i wish i knew

wearing: my old school shirt which is insanely oversized n comfy and my old school shorts for PE reuse reduce recycle

favorite song: hmmmmmmmmm i dont know but i guess zombie by day6 bc thats been a real mood lately this is the eng ver with lyrics!

favorite instrument: i cant play any instruments bc the last time i did it was for a ukulele for music class n i straight up cried while strumming (badly) over the rainbow or something and singing .. did the recorder in primary school n that turned out badly too since all i did was fake play thats not even the question anyway i love how electric guitars sound :^)

aesthetic: aahhh? the sun i guess? like the moon and sunrays i like warmth ,,, and cats! is that even an aesthetic . i like water too!!!!!! photographs of really pretty views??????? idk idk i have 500 aes blogs and they tell me nothing

favorite author: i guess my friends?? they write rly well !! i dont think asher follows me but james when u see this i love both of u dearly and ur writing :3c

random: im truly stressed like i have never been more stressed and its bc i decided 2 be a little shit again n NOT?? do my work when i had time so now im rushing like 4 things due next week i love the school life

tagging: @kinodai (falen honest to god sometimes i cant recognize u with that url n icon), @cupidle (bc i love u and u need something fun to do once ur finished with ur last exam which i hope went/goes well ily no matter what im proud of u) and @petitjams bc jam hi thats it my 17 people <3

if u read to the end thank u......... i talk too much

#tag games #can u tell i needed an outlet. i havent talked to anyone in so long (i say as ive spent like 2 days deactivated on twt)#egg boils

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notapaladin · 5 years

Text

me: I love the James Asher vampire series but it’s obscure and hard to tag so I can’t find the fandom!

also me: I WILL BUILD THIS FANDOM FROM THE GROUND UP.

With that in mind, have a snippet of a modern AU! No vampires, but Simon is certainly more than human (and also an assassin bc you Gotta Have The Murder). Different AU snippets/etc can be found on my AO3.

>simon

>simon are you there

>SIMON WHEN YOU SEE THIS CALL ME

The phone rang once. Twice. Simon Ysidro gently shoved an inquisitive cat away and closed his eyes, breathing out hard through his nose. For the first time, he began to wonder if a proper, permanent cellphone might be an acceptable risk in his line of work. It was something he’d never considered before meeting the Ashers—no, he corrected that line of thought, before befriending the Ashers. One tended not to trust the man holding you at gunpoint and demanding your aid. That they trusted him now was a miracle. That he in turn extended his trust to them…

(A cheap motel in Budapest, all three of them crammed into a single bed. A train to Istanbul with Lydia’s head on his shoulder and her hair a crimson glory spilling over his coat as she slept, trusting him to keep her safe for the night. Waiting for rescue in a Chinese mountain cavern, knowing they wouldn’t abandon him. The first time he and James had broken out of a cramped London basement together, and he’d looked at the man in the moonlight and thought--)

Lydia’s voice snapped through the connection, a leash wound tight around lurking panic. “Jamie is gone.”

No. He clenched his free hand into a fist, nails digging sharply into his palm. “For how long?”

“Since I messaged you!” She sounded close to screaming. Or sobbing.

Three days, then. “...Ah.” He’d been on a job; he cursed it now. Lydia had needed him, and he’d been busy. ‘Twould serve him right if she blocked him on all her social media. Jesu Maria, I really ought to get a proper cellphone. “I assume he did not vanish at the very instant you typed those words?”

There was a faint noise. He suspected she was biting off all manner of foul language, but when she spoke her voice was admirably controlled. Still, he knew this didn’t mean he was off the hook. “No. He went to work—as you’re quite aware, we do have actual jobs—and then he never came home.”

Neither of them needed to speak the words. The cabal calling itself the Hand of God had tried to kill each of them before; after they’d been stopped from slaughtering Simon’s compatriots in a bid to reverse-engineer the serum that had given them their unique capabilities, he suspected they held a grudge. He should have shot them all. “Have you a list of their likely safe houses?”

She took a deep breath—calming herself, he thought. “I’ve been able to narrow it down to three based on Blaydon’s last known aliases, but I can’t...”

She was no trained killer. The closest she had ever come were cadavers on the dissecting table. Simon’s eyes were vaguely focused in the direction of the far wall, but his mind remembered the way she and James smiled at each other, how they held hands when no one was looking. How once, in Budapest, they’d tugged him onto the bed between them when he would have taken the floor. “Lydia.” Emotion threatened to choke him, and he swallowed. “Send me what you have. I will find him.”

James Asher knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the men calling themselves the Hand of God were going to kill him. They’d been almost polite at first once the chloroform had worn off, but that hadn’t lasted long. In truth, he was surprised they hadn’t finished him off already; his ribs were surely bruised if not broken, and they’d seen to it that his left eye was entirely swollen shut. Always the same questions, and he could never answer them.

“Where is the serum?”

“Where is Subject No. 1555?”

Subject No. 1555. Of over a thousand subjects, less than two-thirds survived—and less than half of that lived long, once the scientists that had made them realized their supposed “genetic reconfiguration” made them into near-silent, near-unstoppable killing machines. Ysidro had been one of the few to survive the grinder of the initial training; James shuddered at the thought of the Hand of God getting him in their clutches again. The mental image of those glittering eyes dulled and drugged, his hands meticulously flayed open for Blaydon to see how the nerves connected—a pointless cruelty, there were no physical differences—made him long for a pistol in his hands.

He wasn’t even sure he could hold one now. One of the men had stomped on his dominant hand; by the swelling and the stiff agony every time he tried to move it, he was sure some of the bones were broken. That had been the second day. And still they asked the same questions every time they brought him food, and even if he could answer, he knew he never would.

Lydia. Lydia, darling, I’m sorry. Ysidro…

He closed his good eye and rested his cheek on the cold stone floor. His thoughts shimmered hazily; there, Lydia carefully applying her makeup in the morning; there, the cornsilk of Ysidro’s hair against his cheek. Their voices, low and indistinct over his head as he’d drifted in and out of consciousness in an abandoned graveyard.

The sound of a gunshot.

Awareness returned, bringing pain with it. Movement was slow and excruciating, and even if he’d been able to sit up the door was utterly free of any sort of grates, grilles, or bars which would have let him see what was going on. Instead, he focused his ears; the house they’d taken him to had remarkably good acoustics, even if the vents had been made annoyingly too small for even Ysidro to possibly fit. By the sounds of it, the Hand of God was under attack; there were a few more gunshots, scattered and wild and likely to attract police attention if they hadn’t taken him out of the city entirely. Something hit his door with a thump and a choked-off cry, and he braced himself for a struggle. An enemy of his enemy wasn’t necessarily his friend.

The door swung open. At first James only registered the basics—pale skin, pale hair, dark clothing, blood and the glint of steel—and then the figure in the doorway resolved itself into a young greyhound of a man striding towards him with a smirk on his narrow lips.

“Why, Mr. Asher. We really must stop meeting like this.”

He let out a shaky breath. “Simon.” Too late, he realized he’d never called Ysidro by his first name; by the color in his cheeks and the fractional widening of his eyes, Ysidro knew it too. Still, it was too late to take it back—and they had more pressing concerns. “What are you—how did you find me?”

Simon knelt by his side, eyes soft and joyous. “Your wife is a marvel, and you are the luckiest man in the world to have her. Come—can you stand? I have dealt with the Hand of God, and we have transportation waiting.”

He took a shallow breath, braced himself, and attempted to sit up. He made it perhaps a few inches off the floor before he couldn’t suppress his cry of pain, and then Simon was there with strong, cool hands steadying him. “I—think—“

“You cannot.” Sighing, Simon moved; James was cognizant only of a moment of disorientation and brief, vivid pain, and then he was being lifted to his feet. Though he instinctively put an arm around Simon’s shoulder, he knew it was a formality. Simon would never let him stumble.

Not even over the corpses of men with their throats neatly slashed. He grimaced as they skirted a spray of blood; the Hand of God had taken his shoes. “And you’re sure they’re all dead?”

“Stairs.” It was a while before Simon spoke again, letting James catch his breath on the landing. “I have slain every man stupid enough to be present in this building. Looking at how they’ve treated you, I would do it again.”

His voice was so quiet and fierce that for a moment, James wasn’t sure he’d heard it; when he risked lifting his gaze from the floor to meet Simon’s eyes, the heat in them made his heart skip a beat. “Simon...” I would do the same for you seemed paltry. Thank you seemed worse. Not for the first time, he remembered a morning in Budapest with Simon curled against his chest and Lydia’s arm and hair flung over them. Not for the first time, he thought I really need to talk to Lydia about this.

Simon turned his head away even as he took James’s shoulder again. “Come. We haven’t much time before the police get here.”

By the time James was buckled securely into Simon’s utterly nondescript gray car—nondescript, that was, unless you looked at the engine—he’d filed all thoughts of emotions away for a time when he could mull them over properly. When he could think rationally about the future, instead of dwelling on intertwined fingers in Paris and the messages he’d seen on Lydia’s phone.

Lydia. She’d be clear-minded, surely. She’d tell him Simon was their friend and nothing more, that even friendship was a risk to their lives and livelihood. She’d be sensible about it.

sdcY has joined the chat!

>Hello, Professor, Doctor. Are you both quite well?

>simon we were talking and

>we were thinking that after you’ve been such a good

>My wife and I were discussing the prospect of...ah, I will let her say it.

>friend

>to us

>Did you disconnect? James, has Lydia dropped her phone?

>Lydia and I were wondering if you would like to go to dinner with us. Venue and time at your discretion.

>thx darling

>hsd.fsdfge;[68

>Forgive me, that was the cat.

>I THOUGHT WE BROKE YOU.

>I assure you, it would take far more than that to break me. I must, however, question: is this intended to be merely a meal?

>no

>...If you would prefer that.

>I think I would prefer to have this talk in person. To better ascertain your intentions, you understand. I will be there in half an hour.

>sIMON

sdcY has left the chat!

>Ysidro pl—damn it.

#james asher vampire novels #barbara hambly #The Vampire OT3 #those who hunt the night #paladin writes stuff

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evenifyoudontfic · 7 years

Text

Even If You Don’t: Chapter 28

Previous chapter

Calum’s POV

One week later; 12:45pm

The moment the plane landed on the tarmac in Indianapolis, I thought I was going to throw up. There was no guarantee that Mari would be at home or that Lori wouldn’t refuse to tell me where she was or that she would even let me see her at all.

After deboarding, I called an Uber for the 25-minute ride to Mari’s house and just listened to the driver talk – occasionally adding to the conversation here and there but I was mainly silent. I thanked the woman as she pulled up to the curb to let me out, both of us giving each other a goodbye. I closed the car door and listened to her pull away while I took a deep breath and walked to the porch.

I stood in front of the door for a moment, finding myself unable to move. I’d obviously been here during tour, but I just couldn’t make myself knock. There was a different feeling now. Now, I was afraid someone would slam the door in my face before I could even say a single word – not that I would blame them if they did – but I just needed to talk to Mari and I was terrified she wouldn’t let me.

Mari’s POV; 1:10pm

I suddenly began to hear frantic knocking on the front door, making my eyes widen. I had only just put Asher down for his nap 15 minutes ago and I was not going to be happy if he was woken up. I threw my blanket off of my legs and quietly raced downstairs to look through the peephole, but whoever was there was covering it. I rolled my eyes and cracked the door open, my heart immediately skipping a beat.

“Calum?” I murmured, opening the door all the way, “What are you… How did you know I was here?”

“I made Kaylynn tell me,” he said, “She wasn’t happy about it, but she still told me.”

“Why are you here?” I whispered.

“I made a mistake, Mar,” he shook his head, a desperate tone in his voice, “I never wanted this to be an on-tour thing that ended after the last show.” And it almost hurt to hear him use my nickname again…

Almost.

“Then why did you say it was over?” my voice cracked, my eyes welling up with tears. He moved his hands as if he was going to wipe my cheeks, but he forced his arms to stay at his side, probably thinking that I wouldn’t want him to touch me – which wasn’t entirely untrue.

“Because I just… I’ve never done well with long distance and I didn’t want you to feel like it was your fault… I didn’t want you to feel guilty for living so far away whenever I told you I miss you…” he answered, looking down at his feet, “I wasn’t thinking about how ending it would have made you feel or what we could have done to make it work. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been miserable since the moment the words left my mouth. No one will talk to me unless it’s to tell me how stupid I am – my mum, especially.” I was silent for a moment, eyeing him carefully, as I took in how genuinely sorry he really was – although, I was quite pleased to hear that even Joy was giving him a hard time.

“Makes me feel a little better,” I said softly. He looked back up at me after chuckling softly. “Do you… Do you wanna come in?” I asked him. He swallowed, barely nodding his head. I moved out of the way so he could come in, quietly closing the door. However, when I turned around to face him again, Calum couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out, his eyes immediately shutting tightly. My breathing hitched and I just stared at him. When I still didn’t speak after a few seconds, it was clear he was starting to get nervous. “Mari, please say something,” he muttered, his eyes still closed.

But that was the problem; I wasn’t sure what to say. So I just did the first thing that came to my mind.

Calum’s POV

To say I was shocked to feel Mari’s hands on my cheeks and her lips on mine was an understatement. My eyes shot open before fluttering back closed, my hands finding her hips and pulling her against me. We both let out sighs of relief, smiling when the other’s grip tightened at the same time.

When she pulled away to breathe, I rested my forehead on hers. Her right arm slid around my neck while her left hand remained on my face, her thumb stroking my cheekbone.

“I’m in love with you too, Cal,” Mari whispered, making me let out another deep breath.

“Am?” I murmured, “As in still?” She chuckled quietly, nodding her head.

“You’re a complete asshole and I hate you for what you did,” she shrugged, pressing a kiss to my nose, “But yeah – still.”

“A complete asshole who’s really, really sorry,” I nodded in agreement, “And is also really, really hoping you’ll forgive him.”

“I forgive you, Cal,” she told me, making me smile lightly. Her grip on my neck then tightened and my smile dropped again. “But if you ever do something like that again-” She spoke with a threatening tone. “-I’ll be on the first red-eye flight back to Sydney to kick your ass.” I couldn’t help but laugh under my breath.

“Kaylynn said the same thing when she told me you came back home,” I told her, “Except she said she was going to kill me.”

“I guess the question now is which one of us are you more afraid of?” I pretended to think about it for a moment.

“I think I’m pretty terrified of both of you equally,” I answered.

“You should be,” she mumbled, pressing her lips back to mine. I couldn’t keep myself from smiling – which ultimately shortened the kiss, but I was too happy she hadn’t kicked me out of her house to care.

When we pulled away again, I felt her start twirling the ends of my hair with her fingertips. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, moving back to find a puzzled look on her face that made me tilt my head.

“Did you not come here with anything?” Mari asked, finally realizing I would have had to Uber here and that I didn’t show up with any bags.

“No…” I said shyly, “To be honest, I really didn’t think you were going to forgive me.”

“So does that mean you’re going home today too?” she bit her inner cheek.

“You know, the band doesn’t have anything scheduled appearance-wise until the iHeart Awards in April…” I pointed out, “And I could always have the boys send some stuff to London… Luke and I can write together on Skype… Plane tickets can be refunded…”

“You’re gonna live with me until April?” she raised her eyebrows, obviously a little skeptical.

“If you’ll have me,” I mumbled.

“What about when you have to go home again?” her voice cracked involuntarily.

“My home is wherever you are, baby girl,” I said firmly, tightening my hold on her, “Even if I can’t be with you physically, I’m always right here-” I brought my hand up, gently poking the skin above her heart.

“Calum Hood, you are the cheesiest person I’ve ever met,” she said with a light blush on her cheeks, making me grin widely.

“I love you, princess,” I said just before my lips were back on hers.

“I love you too, Cal,” she whispered between kisses, and I was so grateful I finally had her back.

if u have an idea about where u think the story should go next hmu bc i got nothing tbh lmao

Next chapter

#calum hood #5sos #evenifyoudontfic #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum fanfic #calum hood fan fiction #calum fic #calum fan fiction #5sos fanfic #5sos fan fiction #5sos fic #sounds live feels live #slfl

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ambitionsource · 4 years

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Hi, I am so here for all this ambition content right now. I check this page every day! I remember u guys mentioning about a rl and dasher road trip and I was wondering about that! Thank you!

hello pal!! literally so honored and happy that you’re enjoying ambition and the fact that you check our page every day... ugh you’re too sweet. hopefully the nonsense we do around here is entertaining! very happy to have you in our fandom community <3

so yes, rl + da road trip! i hope it’s okay that i took a bit to answer this, bc i wanted to ruminate on it for a bit before typing it up. so as y’all know we refer to the summer between s1 and 2 as “cruel summer” (thank u tswift), and similarly we have a code name for the summer between s2 and 3 which is “summer of love.” this is admittedly mainly because of rl, but also because a majority of the characters are in such a better headspace this summer than they were last.

boppin the rest under a read more, because i just go on... and on... and on............. (i really love rl & da)

-- Maggie

one facet of this summer is that around... july sometime, dylucasher decide they want to take a trip down to virginia beach (or the beaches in that general vicinity) because they want to check out a beach that isnt grey and cold like the ones close to them in ny, and because a trip before their last year of school together seems like a fun and Classic idea. originally they plan it for just the three of them, but somehow riley comes up and all of them agree -- especially dylan -- that it would be way more fun if she came along too. so they try to convince her to come along, which doesn’t take much convincing, it’s more so about figuring out how she’s going to get around cory because if he knew she wanted to go on a like week long trip with her boyfriend (who he doesn’t really trust) and two other boys he would probably have a heart attack.

you know, it would be like “you can’t go on an overnight trip with three boys!!!” “dad, you know dylan and asher. they’re gay. they’ve been dating for three years. they’re GAY. i do not think i’m at ALL at risk in that scenario???” fsdfSDKGDL

so riley devises a plan / cover story that involves like “going to stay with mom” for a few days, maybe a lie about staying over at isa’s or yindra’s for a couple days in there, you know, she lays out the whole lie and then bribes maya to go along with it and help cover her tracks (rl have very inverse influences on one another -- where riley sort of tames lucas and helps calm him and make him less feral, she develops a bit of a rebellious streak from him or just better identifies the nuances of which rules should be followed vs which were meant to be bent or broken..)

the good thing about this road trip is that it’s what truly cements riley’s friendship with dylan and asher. they’ve been toeing the line of friendship for like two years now (as riley said in cruel summer, she regretted not taking the time and establish a friendship with them in sophomore year before everything fell apart), and it’s kind of like it’s bound to happen. riley and asher takes a little more time to grow and develop just because of the kind of person asher is, but on this road trip dylan and riley just Click. like they were basically made to be best friends, dylan is the first person who kind intrinsically Gets riley and they match each other in terms of enthusiasm / personality / brightness. again, a friendship that’s just been Waiting to happen, and this trip really brings that to the forefront.

(on that note, i once joked that when dylan and riley get really into chatting about something and lucas zones out, they start sounding like the villagers in animal crossing to him. like if he stops paying attention for even a second suddenly dyley sound like this. and i stand by that claim.)

as for the trip itself, its not like i have the whole thing perfectly plotted or anything like that, more just... musings and ideas. oh and a playlist, of course i have a playlist. obviously they’re really good about swapping around drivers and sort of organizing their time since they only have a week, and i think it’s mainly funded by dylan’s youtube vlogger coin. asher helps and riley chips in her fair share, but dylan basically covers lucas because obviously he can’t pay but they all want him there. he makes up for this by driving the most even tho the other three insist its not a big deal.

when it comes to sharing space, the quartet of them are pretty good at it. obviously when they stop for the night they just share beds by couple, but it is interesting to think about how different these two relationships are in terms of like... you know, where they’re at. like its super easy for da to share a bed because they basically do that all the time now, but for rl breaking that boundary would be a kind of unspoken big deal and lucas would be so cautious about it. like they spend most of the summer in riley’s car (can’t hang out at her place with cory there and no one is going to lucas’s) and so theyve probably like fallen asleep together there once or twice and maybe napped ONCE at riley’s place when maya and cory were both gone in the 2.5 months they’ve been together, but it’s still... not the same. so at first lucas would be really nervous about it, but after the first couple of nights he’d relax and realize its really not that big a deal -- esp since riley seems pretty confident and comfortable with it. by the end of the week, lucas wakes up in the middle of the night and riley has cuddled up next to him and he’s like... okay MAYBE sharing a bed with someone makes points. perhaps.

one of the nights on the way down the coast, what truly breaks the ice for dylan and riley is that they break out a SMALL amount of alcohol and both get tipsy (which for them is just like. giddy and giggly and very chatty. they’re both happy drunks without a doubt). lucas and asher don’t indulge bc lucas doesn’t trust himself getting intoxicated and asher is just wary of it in general, but they figure dyley can do it as long as they’re both supervising. so dylan and riley talk A LOT that night and truly form their Kindred Spirit bond and also lucasher end up regretting letting them drink bc for like a half an hour dyley do this thing where they just pretend to share secrets with one another. like they theatrically whisper in one another’s ears and look at lucasher while they’re doing it and then start laughing and they’re literally not saying anything Important (like it’s probably like riley being like “psst... i think lucas is... hee hee... lucas is hot”) and then dylan cracking up and agreeing but bc lucasher don’t know what they’re saying they’re like ha ha very funny........... but y’all aren’t talking about us doe right. wait, what did you say. hold on --

a lot of the trip is also based around being in nature and the outdoors, since they don’t get to do much of that day-to-day in manhattan. considering one of their favorite spots to hang out as a group during senior year is at central park, they’re all definitely fresh air outdoorsy kind of people to a degree. so like, stopping at parks, going on hikes, and of course the beach itself. i made an instagram edit of one of said hikes when i was testing a template i made:

naturally, and i swear this happens at least once on a long road trip whether it is with family or friends or any combo of people, but you hit a point where you get irritable and start to get a little sick of one another. i think in this case that mainly starts between lucas and asher, because although they’re Best Friends i think lucas has a knack for finding ways of irritating him. and also lucas probably gets irritated by dylan’s high energy after too much time with no breaks, so he’s also snappy, and as they’re on the way back up to nyc people are spatting at one another or getting snippy over stupid things so riles is like. here’s an idea! how about we split up for the day when we get to philadelphia. this is an excellent idea and none of them are opposed, so when they arrive in philly, dylan and asher split off to go explore the city + historical sites.

what do riley and lucas do? well, riley takes lucas to meet her grandparents, of course.

at first lucas is like ummmmmmm no because he’s SUPER nervous about meeting her family -- the only family he’s met is cory and we know that’s... unideal, and eric, both of whom have a completely different perception of him bc of school and his behavioral record. he’s yet to meet topanga or auggie yet or anything like that -- but riley assures him that her grandparents are chill and she has no doubt she’ll like them. they’re also meeting lucas with a completely blank slate (i.e. no preconceived notions about him like those who work at aaa), so it’s not hard for lucas to make a good impression since he really is like... a good guy. not to mention no way is he snarky or deadpan in situations where he doesn’t feel comfortable or like he has the right lmao, so he’s on his BEST behavior around amy and alan.

the good thing is that alan himself kind of had a similar background and run on the wild side that lucas does (kind of like jack, altho jack was never as troubled as lucas), and so i think he would kind of... inherently Get him. like he’d strike up a conversation with him and at first lucas would be like omg why is this man speaking to me please i’m invisible pretend i’m not here... but after a bit he’d find it’s surprisingly easy to talk to alan. and they’d talk for like an hour and get on pretty well. meanwhile, amy is talking to riley and is like so... let me guess. cory does not know you’re traveling with your boyfriend???? and riley is like... perhaps. maybe don’t tell him? pretty please? and once amy convenes with alan and is like how is he and alan is all “he’s fine, we can approve,” then they agree not to rat riley out.

riley and lucas also climb up into the matthews tree house and take a look around and they comment on how strange it is that cory and eric once used to like, hang out in there and in that house and were once teenagers (lucas: be careful this is humanizing your father too much for me). and i’d think they’d sit up in the treehouse for a little bit and just talk and riley would talk about how nice it must’ve been to grow up in the suburbs like this, and she’s surprised when lucas agrees and he admits he fucking hates living in manhattan. and that kind of prompts this subtle internal thinking in both of them of like hmm well... maybe in the future when things are different and we can make our own rules maybe we’ll move out of the city and into a quieter life... they don’t say any of that out loud, but they’re both thinking it. and at the tail end of that conversation riley kisses lucas which turns into a Really Good Kiss... but then they’re interrupted by amy calling for them to come down for dinner and its kind of like lmao, they’re both a little bashful but in a casual silly way

#riley x lucas #dylan x asher #riley x dylan #rl x da #SOL #bonus content #kind of lol #is this readable? who knows. i just really Love them #thank you for asking about them!!!#there's also an insta edit buried in here gJFDLGH #Anonymous #answered #high praise tag

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ambitionsource · 4 years

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wait i actually have more weirdly specific questions (if ur up to it) - how do the kids feel about poetry? do they follow any sports? what childhood tv shows were their favs? do they have celebrity crushes? fav coming of age movie? how are they doing in quarantine? what time in history were they obsessed w as a kid? have they ever been to summer camp? what type of candles do they like? what song do they cry to? how do they drink their coffee/tea sorry if u’ve answered already/too many questions

wooooo thank you for your patience iz!! we’re gonna go point by point

poetry?

charlie loves it genuinely and will read it for fun. riley likes it enough but doesn’t go out of her way to read it. farkle loves coming up with insane explanations for the metaphors and is smug about interpreting it in class. zay doesn’t care for it, neither does lucas. asher appreciates it but finds it boring; dylan likes it for the same reason farkle does, only not to look smart but to come up with something completely crackheaded to combat farkle’s interpretation (which he can’t then say isn’t correct, bc its poetry, so all interpretations are valid!). isa doesn’t like it because she doesn’t get the metaphors on paper the same way she can pick them up in film. maya hates it even though multiple people have pointed out that song lyrics are basically poetry -- she will tune you out.

sports?

sports aren’t Big at aaa (aside from dance), but there are remnants here and there. riley follows basketball of course -- even tho as demonstrated in 110, she cannot play it to save herself -- and she tried out for cheer in 9th grade at her old school but was rejected from the squad (another bad mark on a terrible year). farkle prefers wii sports over any actual sport, but will sometimes watch golf with stuart because it’s quality time with his very busy father. charlie did soccer when he was younger before it got phased out by dance and semi keeps up with it. dylan also “played” soccer, but this meant the other little league teammates getting pissed at him bc he never paid attention to the game and was just like “hey! hey, dennis, look at this!” and did like 3 cartwheels across the field. it was a smart move when randall pulled him from the team bc those intense soccer moms were gonna like beat them up fDJSKG. so now dylan is just an unofficial gymnast instead.

isa doesn’t like sports but played them a lot with foster siblings, and even though she sucks she gets very competitive. lucas liked baseball and was good at track in middle school, but he never thought about doing a sport for real because he knew he was going to quincy eventually where his dad is a coach... yeah. no. but he’s great at running fast from the police!

maya hates sports (aside from the art of dance). waste of time, waste of energy. asher has never done a sport nor ever contemplated a sport. the most Sport he’s endured is going with jade to support dave at his swim meets (where nigel also does swim) and suffice to say, asher wasn’t there to look at the swimming.

childhood tv?

dylan to this day is a spongebob squarepants STAN. legend, icon, scholar, best television show ever made, in his opinion. he also was well-versed in pokemon, adventure time, gravity falls, and phineas and ferb. asher and lucas both didn’t watch lots of tv growing up (if at all), so dylan considers it his job to give asher a thorough education in the quality tv he missed as a kid.

maya was all over hannah montana (miley is still a role model to this day for her), and she, zay, and charlie all remember the fever dream that was shake it up. zay especially loved it bc he was (is) obsessed with zendaya. zay and maya both also watched victorious. charlie was sharing a tv with four siblings so he just ended up watching whatever the dominant sister that day wanted to watch. riley was a disney channel girl, and farkle was a pbs scholar (arthur, cyber chase, fetch! with ruff ruff man... classics).

celebrity crushes?

zay = zendaya (as previously mentioned). charlie = harry styles to a major degree, although his Cover Story would be zendaya if you asked (ironically). maya = britney spears (but in a I Want To Be Her way, major idolization rather than attraction) and technically the same for valerie de la cruz but like... rip to that lmao. isa = loki, yes we know, but sometimes it be that way (altho that does extend a little bit towards tom hiddleston in general). asher = logan lerman, aka the main valid white boy who dresses nice, is polite and soft-spoken, and minds his own business (not to mention he is the Same Type as dylan). dylan = had crushes more on like... personalities so like ash ketchum and percy jackson, and now its irrelevant bc he met asher and became obsessed and its like every other potential crush just flew out the window of his brain. it’s full asher territory in there nowadays.

riley doesn’t have a specific one, she thinks lots of people are Pretty but no one particularly strongly. farkle doesn’t have one because he’s insane and doesn’t have the mental capacity. lucas doesn’t have one because he’s demi and also hates most celebrities as people.

coming-of-age movie?

maya’s is mean girls. farkle’s is ladybird. zay’s is easy a. riley’s is bend it like beckham. isadora’s is eighth grade. charlie’s is dead poet’s society. asher’s is perks of being a wallflower. dylan’s is spiderman: into the spiderverse. lucas doesn’t know movies.

quarantine?

we’ve somewhat discussed this before, but ultimately es and i elected to let aaa remain in a nice, calm universe where they don’t have to endure covid. lucky them. blow a kiss to the ether for us, buds,

fave time in history?

riley is huge on ancient greece and greek mythology. maya loves the theatricality and Drama of the roaring 20s (a baby flapper at heart). zay vibes hard with the 80s. charlie likes the fashion and romanticism and music and art of the 70s (that sort of flowery positivity clashing with the rebelliousness of the movements of the 60s... yeah. that hits something in him). farkle’s is the great depression not only bc he’s an emo but also all the raw and desperate art that came out of it. isadora was a egyptian mythology kid. i know lucas sounds lame (he is), but i don’t think he cares about history -- but if pushed he’d probably say the 90s bc he dresses like he’s straight out of there, everyone was angry rocking, and he wasn’t born. asher likes the victorian era bc of the sheer elegance and Aesthetic to everything. dylan doesn’t have a favorite time period because due to being the subconscious multiverse conduit (i.e. the being that is somewhat connected to every other version of himself) sometimes he wakes up and for a minute he doesn’t even know what year it is 🤪anyway...

summer camp?

charlie has been to many a christian youth summer camp. zay went to the kossal program, but that was basically it. lucas no although he probably wished he could be anywhere else during the summer sometimes including a camp he would hate. riley went for a few years in elementary school. isa has gone to a couple of “foster kid” summer camp bonding things that she despised. farkle went to jewish summer camp One time and was like that was HORRIBLE, never make me spend a whole summer outside AGAIN. asher was more of a Enrichment courses at the rec center during the summer kid than a camper. dylan no because the orlandos couldn’t afford something like that. same for maya.

candles?

riley has a small variety of scented ones that are like... warm scents, like cinnamon and stuff. asher a couple that smell like clean linen but his fear of accidental fires keeps him from ever lighting them. maya has one and it smells like “star power,” a gift from her mom one christmas. isadora can’t have any because many of her foster homes don’t allow them. lucas legally shouldn’t be allowed anything that catches on fire. dylan doesn’t have one but similarly should not be given one. the minki have a whole collection for different things so farkle can just pluck one at any time if he needs one like for a super fancy bath or whatever the fuck rich people do.

mental breakdown song?

charlie’s are “falling” and “from the dining table” by harry styles.

riley’s is “manhattan” by sara bareilles and “rainbow” by kacey musgraves.

zay’s are “imagine” by ariana and “dear life” from the step up soundtrack (post zc breakup).

farkle’s are “vienna” by billy joel and “get it right” from glee.

asher’s is “don’t cry” by ruel.

isa’s is “you are my sunshine” because valerie used to sing it to her a lot when she was really little, so it will always make her a little emotional.

dylan’s (although rare) are “soon you’ll get better” by ts and “make you feel my love” by adele. the second one is because his mom loved adele when she was just starting out bc 19 was released the same year that she passed away so there’s a lot of like subconscious association there even if he doesn’t realize it.

maya doesn’t have one, and lucas also doesn’t have one because in the rare moments he does cry its in his closet in the dark silence alone bc he literally can’t stand the sentience of knowing he’s crying so. sensory blackout.

coffee / tea?

riley will add at least 3 sugars to anything, but she’s ultimately an iced tea gal. lucas drinks it black but only because it never occurred to him to add anything to it and so it’s a big wake up call when he realizes you can drink it and have it NOT be bitter and horrible and demoralizing ( “i thought we were all just suffering for the caffeine fix??” ). isa is a tea girl mostly, although she wishes she could drink black coffee for the aesthetic (and hates that lucas can... it’s like... he didn’t even Earn that aestheticism, smh). asher doesn’t drink caffeine bc it makes him Jittery (and he’s already jittery) so he’s like... the lemonade bitch at coffee shops which kin, and then dylan definitely drinks caffeine but not thru coffee, he’s more likely to get like a hot chocolate.

farkle lives on coffee but he can only drink it from home because they’re rich and can have like fresh ground good imported whatever the heck etc etc so he’s like spoiled about coffee. zay will hit up a starbucks now and then and will order coffee at a diner, but he’s not too attached either way. maya is a fun n free starbucks gal with her frappes and lattes and lots of cream (whipped or otherwise). charlie doesn’t drink coffee or tea bc hes hyper aware of his body and health (he doesn’t really have soda either) and it was frowned upon in his house.

#this was a HEARTY helping of questions. lots to unpack there #thanks izzy!! fun for me and es to go thru #ambition quarantine 2020 #aaa friday #you didnt technicalyl send this on friday but im counting it #front nine #thebestofabaddeal #answered

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