Posts by Luke H.

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"I'm Luke," he waved a little as he slid into an empty seat. "Fifth-year as well, but a Hufflepuff." Like Calum, he'd never understood why he had been placed into the house. He was always lazing around whenever he could, and even though he managed to excel academically, he simply adored doing nothing at all. Weren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be hard workers? Ah, well.

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"Dittoing Michelle."

Luke padded over, his steps light. He'd worn a few flower crowns in his time, but none as intense as the ones Stoneroses was manifesting. It all looked really cool, though. He wondered if he would ever be able to be as handy with his paws as Rose was. Michael was definitely better at art than he was, too. Needless to say, the blonde boy wasn't the best at painting.

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"YOU ARE SO FUCKING DEAD, CLIFFORD," laughed Luke from the storeroom, his voice muffled. Soon enough, the Aussie popped his head out the door and pouted at his dyed best friend. "Yoka, give him a ticket. For being an absolute blithering idiot and for leaving me to sort out these weird-ass slippers all on my own. Ridiculous." Luke huffed, and stuck his head back in, hands working as they yanked boxes of slippers from their unnecessarily heavy packaging.

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"I'm Poop," he introduced formally, face an impassive mask. He'd tried to introduce himself as Poop countless times before, but they'd all backfired on him since the moment the words slipped out, the boy would crack up. It was no good-- if he wanted to prank his friends in the future, he had to master the art of staying calm! It was a serious business. He nearly did it this time-- if it weren't for a stray thought about conga whales. The king laughed, and shook his head. "I'm Luke. Welcome to LithiumClan, Sab."

// well this post makes so much sense doesn't it

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OH MY GOD CLAIRE

He turned to face Michael now, leaning in a similar fashion. "Things have been rough, huh?" It was more of a statement than a question; they both knew that life had thrown them lemons that were a little too sour, and the outcome of it all was still something that they weren't completely comfortable with talking about it just yet.

"Everything happens for a reason, as cheesy as that sounds. And I think it's best to let the fire die down a little before trying to poke it again. Not that you should poke her literally," he added quickly. Then, setting the cup down onto the marbled counter, he stretched out his arms and beckoned. "C'mere."

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It was certainly enlightening to see more and more creatures coming to stand on the same edge of the same border. It was actually an everyday occurrence, even-- almost every patrol validated a new joiner, and Luke was quite happy about that. And given his recent promotion, he supposed it was vital he kept himself proactive both in camp and on the outskirts of it. He was more or less content with everything he had now, and even the things he didn't have.

He never considered himself a nomad, especially since he was practically sold to LithiumClan-- but there had been a point in his life where he moved around quite a lot, jumping from group to group (namely the Harvest Tribe, SunClan and TidalClan) and he'd found himself learning quite a bit in each and every one of those places. There was something new to take away from every experience, and he found that thrilling. But now that he had a home, and the most solid one at that-- settling down didn't sound so bad.

He'd made friends and enemies, but what mattered most was that his heart found a home.

"I'm Luke, one of the two leaders here! As Bess said, 'm always open to questions." There was a grin on his maw as he made himself known.

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"Don't forget about me," added the tabby cheekily, arriving after Michael. Saff looked preoccupied with her thoughts-- he wondered what she was mulling over; was it Clan matters? Personal matters, perhaps? Luke had never realised how Saff didn't have any family in the Clan, and her friends were all probably somewhere else. If she ever wanted to talk to him, he'd be there.

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NOW IT'S MY TURN
OH GOD
GIMME A MIN

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"Hoooly shit. Caff?" There was panic in the king's eyes as he surveyed the thrashing brigadier. He wanted to believe that she was okay, but it certainly didn't seem like it. Oh God-- what if he couldn't help her? It looked like she was stuck in a nightmare, or a perpetual night terror. Oh God. Luke hovered over Caffeinepaw, attempting to shake her out of it.

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On the other hand, Luke had absolutely no idea what was going on with the feud between Biyoka and Bessie. As far as he was able to tell, it was just a skirmish that had blown out of context. He still didn't know how to wrap his mind around the recent events-- Biyoka losing her temper more frequently, and even shrinking Bessie. There were just so many things he had yet to understand, but really, he wouldn't know what to do if he really understood why the cavalier had been acting that way.

So with a sunny smile that disappeared as soon as his eyes found the figure of a certain doll, Luke padded over. His baby blues filled with worry. Had something happened? Were they fighting again? He didn't know. "Bess?" The tabby's voice was quiet.

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He didn't flinch at her name-calling-- Luke'd gotten used to it long ago, and he felt as if the girl had been in his life since... Forever. That had to count for something-- all the petty disputes they had (even though they always ended with him pouting and asking for a hug) and even the casual bickering at odd times. He wondered what things would be like if he'd never met her. The Aussie noticed Flo's gesture, and immediately thought of a certain TV show. Goddamnit, he needed to catch up with it.

"I really just wanted you to open the door quickly-- I can order pizza, if you want," offered the boy cheekily as he was hauled into the house. Eyes flickering to the TV screen, he caught a glimpse of Faking It just before the girl turned it off. He flung his keys in the direction of the coffee table, shrugging off his jacket as they landed on the glassy surface. "Yeah, Mike gave 'em back to me."

If it wasn't already obvious that Luke had come to talk about the rugged boy, it sure as hell was now. A sigh escaped his baby pink lips as he took a seat on the carpet, shifting only a little afterwards to occupy his usual spot on the same floor-- the same floor where he'd sat watching Up for the first time. One look at the wan quality of Florence's face told him what he needed to know. There was something very wrong, and he was the cause of it. Pearly whites ground against his lower lip, and the sudden redness made his face look more gaunt than it had in weeks.

"We need to talk about Michael."

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She was quivering in his arms, and he wanted to hold her tighter, even though it was physically impossible. He was already clinging to her as if she were a lifeline, or an oxygen mask. There was something so electrifying about the way their bodies melted into one like this, something so tantalising about the way he could rest his chin on the very tippity top of her head. He wanted to stay like this forever, feel this a million times over.

The odd thing was, he'd known from the very beginning that she would break his heart. They would scream, they would fight, and they would fall out. But they'd always, always fall back together. And most of the time, he'd thought, there would be love. Love in its purest form, built on trust and familiarity, adversity and pain. There would be unbearable pain, and he'd take it. He didn't know anything, but he knew her. She was one of the few things he was completely sure of, and with that said, the list was growing shorter and shorter. Luke only wished his feet wouldn't fail him now.

He knew it wasn't going to be easy. One of these days, she was going to ignore him, leave him to freeze out in the cold because he'd shattered her heart. But he knew, like the back of his paw, that he would never, ever give her up. Even when she wanted to strangle him and throw him off a cliff, he'd still love her with her arms and a rope around his neck. There were so many laws they were breaking, so many untold rules they were stretching.

And the best part was that he didn't care. Didn't care that she couldn't have kids. Didn't care that some people would disapprove of their relationship.

The tabby let relief wash over him like a tidal wave when she didn't pull away. "You mean more to me than you'll ever know, Bess." His voice was quiet, hushed-- but there were only the two of them in the hallway, and he only saw her. Her face, her eyes, the rosy tinge that made his heart ache. He brought a paw up to the side of her face, trying to caress it gently as a shy grin danced like fireflies on his maw. "You're so goddamned beautiful, babe."

// my heart

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He nodded dazedly, the grin growing wider as he felt her lips press against his cheek. The butterflies never left his stomach, and he had a feeling that they wouldn't be going anywhere-- at least, not when Bessie was near. He picked up the flowers and gummy bears gently and walked back into his room, hoping she'd follow. There, he placed the bouquet on his bedside table, next to his powder blue Polaroid camera.

/ sAME HOLY SHITTJT

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"Alright?" He exhaled, having not realised that he'd been holding his breath. The singular word was something he hadn't used for a long, long time, and it had since lost its meaning. What was alright, exactly? Physically healthy? Mentally stable? Psychologically sound? Luke didn't know if all of them applied to Mike at the current moment. The older boy was certainly healthy, but other than that-- the Aussie didn't know. "I don't know. Do you... you know, miss him?"

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Wow, Gab was late for this reply. Needless to say, Luke had probably zoned out or something, but when he heard his name, his heart nearly jumped straight out. Him? King? Oh dear Lord. "Jesus Christ-- thanks, Saff," the boy managed to get out through startled breaths. All around him, congratulations sounded, and he felt himself blushing again, not for the first time this week. "Thank you guys so much." There were others more deserving of this rank, but he was going to do his best.

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"Oh my God, Flor," was all the gigantic child could get out as he almost let the small plastic spoon slip from his mouth. He'd been heading for the door, but now-- he could only wonder how the three of them were going to get her home safely. Also, Luke was almost pretty sure the noise was going to attract more than the three of them.

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MY HEART STOPPED
TRACK FOR NOW

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As usual, the boy had been on his daily patrol when his baby blue eyes caught the figure of Streetlight. She didn't seem like a LithiumClanner to him, nor someone who had been a loner for quite some time. If anything, she smelled of another group. Curiosity piqued, the king made his way over to the fem and stood beside Michael. The question had been asked.

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Luke's eyes were trained not on the blackboard, but on his slender fingers as they tangled and untangled. There was something a little perplexing about how this was still being taught even though they were all sixteen-to-eighteen-year-olds. He would imagine many of them knew what doing it meant, and that doing it without protection and precaution would lead to unwanted pregnancies and stuff like that. Now and then, the broad-shouldered teenager would push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, a small chuckle escaping his cracked lips whenever a joke was made.

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"Rock on, Mer." The tone and volume of Luke's voice matched Tatteredpaw's, and there was a sort of acceptance laced in between the lines. He'd wondered for a long time now. If the cavalier still wanted to be in the Clan, and if her heart was still fixated in the same holster. Now, he finally knew and understood. The girl had always been loyal to this place, to the people in it, and nothing would've made her run away even if the sky split and the ground crumbled. Even if her friends turned into mindless monsters, even when the kids screamed for help and the roofs fell apart. Because that was what Mer did. She saved innocent children in her free time, and lent a hand, a shoulder, anything-- to those who needed it. Luke would know, because she'd helped him. And the Aussie wasn't going to forget that in a million years.

He'd promised himself that crying was a sort of sin, especially when others needed him to be strong. He couldn't, and wouldn't, show despair. But that was a millennia ago, when his heart was still trapped like a phantom in a cage.Now he knew. It was perfectly alright to cry, especially when others needed him to be strong. Because when you let tears fall and shatter like porcelain against brick, you click a certain melancholic memory in place. You get tougher, and your wings grow stronger. And maybe one day, he'd be able to lend a hand, a shoulder, anything-- to those who needed it.

Luke cried like he'd never cried before, silent orbs of distress slipping down his cheeks like rain on stained glass. Tears of colour, and tears of goodbye. Here's to Americanbeauty, the girl who was fearless because she'd been afraid.