#hanna.

[nalanvogue]

Han Na

[faceclaimed]

[lckilaufeyson]

hey

no

[mmelodying]

There's such instant, unexplained relief at seeing Hanna Callan's face in a crowd. Melody places a kiss against the stubble of Justin and separates from him, rushing over in that way one does when seeing another part of oneself. The distance close and Mel is hugging the other, hair tickling her nose, a squeal leaving her throat. As if she has not seen her best friend in eons, when the opposite is true. "Killer outfit, babe," she says, pulling back. She had not been there, when Hanna had gotten ready: a ritual they had performed so often in the years prior but had not performed tonight. No curling iron around her hair, held by Hanna, no fashion show, no exchanging eyeshadow shades. And still, they both looked stellar. ( That such a thing was possible seemed strange. ) 

As her hand journeys back to her side, it lingers for a second, tapping Hanna under her chin. Mel smiles, bright and all teeth, all sincerity. “Congratulations on both of our gorgeous degrees. Heard someone call it the 'Big D', earlier, and thought that was ... well, patriarchal, but rather fucking funny too. You got a drink yet?” A hand reaches out again, feeling the fabric of Hanna's clothing, so desperate to touch a piece of her. “I really love this outfit, is it new?”

[terrifyingstories2]

maybe, in a way, it’s a good thing hanna’s used to the sound of thumping in her ears - maybe that’ll make it easier, somehow, to overcome the sensation of her heart beating against her ribcage and the dizzy, shaky feeling that follows, like she might throw up or hyperventilate. she’d like to think everything they’ve been through is worth something, after all, at least the ability to get through this next part without losing what little she managed to shove down for lunch. 

if hanna knows how to do anything, it’s poke the bear, no matter how big or grizzly - there’s still an awful cut at the edge of her mouth from her last bataille (forgive her, spencer, if her pronunciation’s all off, but sometimes she makes the mistake of thinking more about the shape of your mouth around the things you say rather than the words that come out, and there’s something especially exquisite about love languages when they roll off your tongue), and she still winces every time she catches a glimpse of her back in the bathroom mirror, but if what she could lose if this doesn’t come out right would leave her worse yet. what a.d did to her would be no comparison to the image of spencer marching out that door, and so the blood on her hands, the not so metaphorical knives in her back, the master class they’ve been given in losing is of no consequence, because if she loses spencer, she loses everything. 

for all she’s lost, she hasn’t lost that yet. she hasn’t lost spencer yet. and if she does, that sputtering heart of hers will surely give out. 

“sorry,” hanna stutters, hands clasped too tightly to allow spencer to see the ring finger without a ring but more than enough to put her nerves up on the biggest billboard in town.  “my heart’s - pounding like a jackrabbit. i um...” she sucks in a breath, because if she doesn’t she won’t have the strength for another, and if she doesn’t breathe she’ll pass out, and if she passes out she’ll never say what she needs to say, and for reasons she can’t remember now, spencer has to hear it, even if it amounts to nothing, even if it breaks hanna’s heart into pieces.  “i need to...” another shallow breath, “i need to talk to you.” / @lingeringscars​

[penelopexpark-blog]

🎵 for me to shuffle my playlist and use my favorite line of the next song as a starter

hanna. ( @bitchcassidys )

penelope took a deep breath, probably a mistake as the heavy scent of sweat and spilled drinks immediately poured in through her nose, but she needed to center herself a bit for what she was about to do. 

-- well, she needed to attempt to center herself anyways. her whole body felt sort of loosey-goosey and if she focused on any one place for too long the room would start spinning. hanna had already voiced her concerns ( somewhere around the 5th shot if she remembered correctly -- that was the glass she slammed so hard down on the bar it shattered ) and had tried to pull penny as far away from where she was currently standing as humanly possible. in fact, the older woman had tried to pull her right out the door. 

but penelope was having exactly none of that.

she had yanked herself out of her friend’s grasp ( probably dislocating something in the process -- she was going to have to remember to apologize for that later ) and marched herself right up to the back of the bar, before hauling herself ( not without a good bit of fumbling ) up onstage -- after all, it was her turn.

the stage lights, in direct contrast with the overall dinginess of the rest of the bar, were shining a little too brightly in her eyes, but it didn’t even matter. she knew all the words.

she swayed ( well -- teetered ) to the rhythm of the music as she waited for it to queue her in, and when it did, she didn’t hesitate.

❛ WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I IS? YOU AIN’T MARRIED TO NO AVERAGE BITCH BOY ❜

[nalanvogue]

Han Na