#may solitude in the Parks give me peace

[delimeful]

the shapes in the silence (11)

new chapter at the behest of one of my patrons! hope you enjoy! >:)

warnings: terrible coping mechanisms, antagonistic but not "evil" deceit, semi-vivid panic attack, suicidal implications/thoughts, arguing, an antagonistic and also genuinely evil cliffhanger, take care for realsies

-

After a few days of solitude, Logan emerged from his room with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

He dropped a comically large stack of paper onto the lounge table, interrupting their bi-monthly binge of Parks and Rec. Patton obligingly paused the television, smiling at the sight of the other Side.

Roman probably would have complained, except Virgil-- as Puff-- had been dozing on top of his head for the past twenty minutes, and one of his wings was draped over Roman’s face like a makeshift blindfold. So, he hadn’t really been watching anyways.  

“I’ve figured it out,” Logan said, gesturing to the meticulous lines of not-so-meticulous handwriting. “The shrinking.”

Everyone seemed to perk up in interest, and Virgil dropped onto Roman’s shoulder, kneading his claws lightly into the sash.

“You know why?” Patton prompted after another moment of Logan preening.

“Yeah, Specs, don’t leave us in suspense!” Roman demanded, valiantly restraining his gesturing for the sake of not accidentally unbalancing Virgil. The two of them had only had to learn that lesson once.

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses briefly. “My current hypothesis is that our reduced states are the result of a sort of… mental lock. We shrink when the locking mechanism is triggered, and it takes a figurative key to restore our previous, normal stature.”

“A key?” Patton asked. “You figured out how to undo it?”

“Not for everyone. Think of it as customized locks. There’s a different key for each of us, and I’ve only discovered my own.”

Virgil tilted his head curiously at Logan’s words. The first bit was about what he’d figured, but a ‘key’ to change back? He used to think he only changed back in his room, but there had been a couple of occasions where he’d shifted forms unexpectedly. None of the others had had to be in their rooms to change back, either.

Roman was frowning in thought. “Wait, how in the name of Disney did you figure out your key?”

Logan looked delighted at the question. He moved to sit in his usual armchair, and then closed his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly and his mouth dropping into a frown.

In the next moment, he was doll-sized. “Extensive and rigorous experimentation,” he said, carefully getting to his feet on the plush chair fabric.

Roman and Patton immediately burst into excited chattering, each theorizing or commenting on Logan’s tiny stature, and Virgil quickly abandoned ship before Roman really did gesture him right into the air. He trotted along the back of the couch and kicked off of it, landing on the arm of Logan’s chair.

Logan looked up at him for a moment, before referring to a pile of tinier-than-normal flashcards pulled from his pocket. “Puff. I hope there’s no ‘hard feelings’ about my former hypothesis. It was nothing personal, I can assure you.”

It wasn’t like the theory had been too far fetched. Virgil hopped down to the seat of the chair and brushed against Logan’s side like a large, scaly cat. It seemed to do the job of convincing Logan that they were cool.

Logan looked back over at the other two. “Time to continue the lecture, I believe.”

With that, he clapped his hands together in a familiar pattern, one that had been used in countless classrooms in Thomas’s life. Two normal claps, and then three rapid ones.

Almost immediately, Patton and Roman clapped the returning pattern, paused as though registering what they’d done, and then turned to face Logan.

“Was… Did you just teacher-clap at us?” Roman asked, astounded.

Logan looked incredibly smug at his gambit working so perfectly, and Virgil barely had time to claw his way back up onto the armrest before the logical Side was back to normal.

“My key,” he said, “is being listened to.”

Then, as though he couldn’t resist, he added, “Who’s falling behind now, Roman?”  

Roman spluttered with exaggerated indignance, and Virgil was absolutely certain that Princey was going to spend the next several days rising to the challenge. He shook his wings out, the dragon equivalent of rolling his eyes.

Patton, on the other hand, clapped enthusiastically as though Logan had performed a magic trick. “Wow, way to grow!”

Logan sighed deeply. Patton grinned, and then paused.

“See, the only thing I’m wondering now is, why is this happening to us all of the sudden? It’s certainly not something we’ve had to deal with before.”

There was a terse silence.  

“I’m still working on theories in that regard,” Logan finally responded, mouth pinched slightly. “There have been many periods in the past where certain upheavals in Thomas’s life have led to our surroundings or our very selves changing. It’s entirely possible that this… ‘shrinking’ effect is a similar case. That brings me to my next point: we need to speak with Thomas.”

Virgil noticed Roman grimace for a moment. “Does he really need to know about all… this?”

“We certainly can’t keep it from him!” Patton replied as he walked closer to the rest of them and held out his arm. Virgil scaled it with ease, clambering up to perch on Pat’s shoulder like a parrot. For once, he agreed with Roman. He wasn’t sure this would end well, but... it wasn’t his job to bring up doubts right now. “He’s going to have to learn about it eventually, whether now or whenever he calls us up to talk about whatever is bothering him.”

“Precisely,” Logan agreed. “The more information we gather on this matter, the better.”

“I guess…,” Roman crossed his arms, but conceded. Patton gave him an encouraging hug.

“Plus,” he added as he pulled away, “if we go now, we can have Thomathy meet Puff!”

A beat late, Virgil realized just what that meant, and a flood of panic washed out the peaceful haze in his mind. They couldn’t take him to see Thomas! What if his host recognized him?

… What if he didn’t?

“It’s fine with me,” Logan added. “He does seem to be a rather permanent fixture in the Mindscape, though I’m not sure what that says about Thomas.”

“It says that he’s simply the coolest,” Roman shot back, his spirits seemingly lifted by the idea. He reached over and lifted Virgil off Patton’s shoulders, holding him in the air and spinning in a dizzying circle. “You’ll love Thomas, Puff, just you wait.”  

“Why wait?” Patton chimed in with an excited smile. “I’ll go let the kiddo know we’re coming!”

He sank out, and Logan spent a short moment making sure his tie was properly aligned before following. Roman tilted his head slightly as though listening to an invisible sound before smiling widely. “There’s our cue!”

Before Virgil could do more than feel a sense of impending doom, the world was blurring and shifting around them, and he was dragged up along with Roman.

The dizziness as he entered the real world was so heady that he nearly blacked out, his head spinning. When his vision cleared, he realized he was being held up like an infant Simba.

Right in front of his host’s face. He froze like a deer in the headlights, mind screaming wordlessly.

“Ta-da!” Roman announced. “The newest, cutest denizen of your mind! Aside from me, of course.”  

Thomas leaned in slightly, no trace of disgust or fear on his face. It made him look younger. “Woah. Hey there, little guy. Puff, right?”

He held his hand out carefully, and almost magnetically, Virgil placed a tiny, clawed hand on it. An encouraging smile was all it took, and then he was abandoning all caution and climbing right into the arms of the one who was supposed to fear him the most.

Thomas just shifted obligingly to create a better platform, and ran a thumb over his spine scales. Virgil craned his head up to look, and saw only quiet astonishment and awe on his host’s face.

There was no question. He didn’t recognize him.

Virgil had no idea what the emotion in the pit of his stomach was-- an amalgam of relief, disappointment, terror, sadness, so dense it was physically painful-- but after a moment, he let himself go lax. He could deal with it later. He could deal with everything later.

For now, his host was holding him close like he was something treasured, something precious. It was more than he’d ever hoped for and all he could ever need.

Whenever Thomas spoke, he could feel the words vibrating in his host’s chest. It was almost like a hug. He stayed there, content to listen only vaguely as the others explained what was going on and tried to work out the reason why.

After a while of circular discussion, Thomas went a little tense, catching Virgil’s attention. He hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“We’re trying to figure out what’s going wrong to cause this… inner turmoil, right? Why don’t we get Anxiety in on this? If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s coming up with worst-case scenarios.”

Virgil went still and frozen, and Roman’s gaze darted down to him for a moment before his expression firmed into a frown. “Absolutely not. That villain won’t have anything helpful to contribute.”

“On the contrary, I believe Thomas has a point. Anxiety could have a side to this story that we haven’t heard yet, but if we were just to ask him,” Logan countered, “he may share.”

“Kind of strange that he hasn’t popped up already,” Patton added with a concerned frown. “The kiddo doesn’t generally like it when people talk about him without him there.”

“Let’s at least give it a shot,” Thomas decided, lifting a hand. “Anxiety!”

No, no no no. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go. Virgil braced for the irresistible tug on his core, the breaking apart of his fragile peace--

It didn’t come.

There was no pull. Why wasn’t he feeling the pull? He couldn’t detect even the slightest call, which was impossible, unless--

Perfectly on cue, a dark figure appeared from thin air on the staircase, jumpscaring Thomas and offering a mocking smirk.

“You called?”

It… was him. It was Anxiety, dark hoodie and darker eyeliner, sneer and all. Virgil felt the strangest disconnect from his own identity for a moment before things snapped back into place. No summons, his own desire for secrecy, a perfect doppelganger.

Deceit.

A low, rumbling growl started up in his chest, and his hackles rose instantly at the sight of that liar daring to wear his face.

Thomas’s hands jerked away in surprise, and Patton reached over to soothe him. “Easy, Puff. He won’t do anything to you, promise.”

“That’s right,” Roman agreed in a completely different tone, stepping forwards to put himself between the fake Anxiety and the others, as though Virgil was pathetic enough to be worried about himself and not whatever bullshit Deceit-As-Anxiety was about to feed the others. His growl lowered in volume, but refused to taper off.

“Like I care about your newest pet project,” Fake-Anxiety said, rolling his eyes in disdain. “I’m just here to do what I do best: tell you how you messed up.”

Logan frowned at him. “You believe our current situation is the result of Thomas erring in some way?”

“Not just some way. All the ways. It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Fake-Anxiety said, gesturing widely to Thomas with one hand. “Something’s wrong with you. You’re broken.”

“That’s not true,” Patton said firmly, frowning in disapproval. “Anxiety, I expected better from you.”

Virgil felt his throat close up, even though he wasn’t really the one Patton was speaking to. It wasn’t like Patton knew that. How was he ever going to look anyone in the eye after this?

“Wait, what? How am I broken?” Thomas asked, not as indignantly as Virgil would have preferred. He gently butted his head against Thomas’s arm for morale-boosting purposes.

“I mean, think about it,” Fake-Anxiety said, spreading his palms open in a faux innocent gesture. “How many times have you screwed up in the past couple of weeks? Speaking with family, hanging out with friends, even just basic customer service interactions. Those were all your fault, and you know it.”

Thomas’s hands shook slightly. “I…”

“Falsehood,” Logan cut in sharply, his expression severe. “A person cannot be ‘broken’, particularly not for simple mistakes. In any case, there is no meaningful connection to be drawn between your baseless accusation and our current conundrum.”

Before Fake-Anxiety could respond, Patton’s hands flew to his mouth. “Wait. Kiddo, you don’t really think that about yourself, do you?”

All eyes turned to Thomas, who hesitated just a beat too long. “No… I mean, not entirely. Not all the time.”

“Thomas…” Roman looked stricken. “There’s no reason to feel bad about yourself!”

“Emotions… are often without reason,” Logan said, sharing a look with Patton. “This is important information, though. It’s entirely possible that a negative sense of self could affect us, as aspects of yourself. This could be the cause.”

“Then… How do I fix it?” Thomas asked, voice strained.

“You can’t,” Fake-Anxiety said, inspecting his nail polish as though bored. “You’re going to be stuck like this forever.”

“The first step,” Logan said, with a complicated glance towards the figure on the stairs, “is not letting negative thoughts control you. I was hoping Anxiety would be able to shed a light on our discussion, but it’s become clear that he’s… not in a helping mood.”

Fake-Anxiety clicked his tongue. “I’m helping. Helping you not make an even bigger embarrassment out of yourself.”

“Don’t listen to that villain,” Roman told Thomas, glancing down at ‘Puff’. “You have the power to send him away, Thomas.”

“Don’t bother. I’ve said my piece, and you know I’m right.” Fake-Anxiety gave a mocking salute before sinking out, making brief eye contact with Virgil as he did.

“He’s not right… right?” Thomas asked, his face a little pale. “I mean, it’s Anxiety.”

In his arms, Virgil tucked his limbs in tighter against himself.

“You are not broken,” Logan reiterated calmly. “Take a few deep breaths.”

“You do feel bad, though,” Patton said, a hand pressed over his heart in sympathy. “Kiddo... why don’t you take today for yourself?”

“That’s right!” Roman gripped Thomas’s shoulder comfortingly. “Do something that you’ll enjoy, and you can worry about everything else tomorrow, okay? We’ll sort things out on our end.”  

They spoke for a little longer, making new plans and cancelling old ones, and Virgil felt as though his mind was full of static. Eventually, finally, he was back on Roman’s shoulder, ready to sink out.

“Nice meeting you, Puff,” Thomas waved, and something in Virgil’s chest twisted painfully at it all. He chirp-crooned back, and it felt like a goodbye.

-

Luckily for him, the others were all preoccupied with their own thoughts and plans. It took almost no effort to slip away, and before he knew it he was back in his own room, in the form that everyone hated.

His summon was nonverbal and insistent, and before long, Deceit appeared before him, this time in his own skin. Virgil wanted to yell, to rage and vent the emotions inside of him.

“How could you?” Instead, his voice came out quiet. Cold. Betrayed.

Deceit shifted, a flash of discomfort crossing his face before he composed himself. “They needed a villain. Last I checked, it was you who cast yourself in that role.”

A villain. He felt himself shaking, distantly. “You used me. Like an object.”

“To help Thomas--”

“To frighten him into doing what you wanted!” Virgil said, voice finally rising. “To guide the others like puppets on strings and to make me take the fall for your plan!”

“This is for you, too!” Deceit finally snapped back, before taking a deep breath. “This isn’t a framing, Virgil. It’s an opportunity. They won’t look for you, and that gives me enough time to fix things. Come home.”

Virgil laughed, once, harsh like broken glass. “No.”

Deceit held up a hand, sweeping it downwards and shifting himself into Fake-Anxiety again. It was like looking in a mirror, but the reflection was… different, this time. It wasn’t the one that had sat on the stairs before.

“Look at yourself, Virgil. Look at what you’ve been doing to yourself.”

The bags under his eyes were dark and sallow. He was shaking and sweating, his breath coming in stuttering gasps. His body looked like it’d been having consecutive panic attacks for days on end, and there were plenty more coming.

“You don’t have to do this anymore. We both know that you’d have an easier time if Thomas wasn’t always fighting against you.”

He tore his eyes away from the reflection. If he thought about it for too long, he’d spiral, and then all of it-- every comment, every look, everything he’d been tucking away for the past weeks-- would come rushing up to meet him. Like hitting water from a hundred feet up and finding it felt like concrete. Like drowning.

“Virgil?”

He was tired of this. “Get out.”

Deceit said something else, but it was his room, and it followed his will. The other Side was evicted, shoved out, gone. He took a breath, but it felt too shallow and caught in his lungs.

He wasn’t going to get anything done in this form. He wasn’t of any damn use in this form. Nobody wanted him like this. Why not ease his grip, let go?

He wouldn’t have to be Anxiety and everything that came with it. It would be selfish, but-- but Puff was better for everyone, not just him. It made sense.

He sighed in relief as the transformation washed away the vice grip around his lungs and the dizzying pounding of his head. The feelings were muffled, as though he’d put on thick, good quality headphones. It was nice.

It was also harder to focus in this form, unfortunately, but the idea-- the solution remained helpfully stuck in his head. He easily found his way into Roman’s room to collect what he needed, but Roman himself was absent.

He padded down to the commons, and found all three of them were there. Their discussion came to a halt as he carefully jumped up on the couch, dropping his prize into Roman’s lap.

“Oh, Puff…” Roman seemed sad, so he kneaded the creative Side’s leg with the dull edge of his claws.

“What is that?” Patton asked curiously.

Roman shifted, as though anticipating a scolding. “It’s a charmed bracelet. I designed it to keep Anxiety away from Puff. And you know what? I was right to make it! You saw how he acted today!”

Patton bit his lip but remained quiet. Something about the silence hurt, but that was okay. It wouldn’t hurt for long. He nudged the bracelet slightly, impatient.

“Why hasn’t he been wearing it, then?” Logan asked, a curious bend to his eyebrows.

“He… Well, he didn’t want it at first. Put it on yours truly instead,” Roman replied, carefully brushing a hand over Virgil’s head. “I suppose he changed his mind.”

“Did Anxiety really scare him that badly?” Patton asked, voice heartbroken.

Roman frowned determinedly and finally started undoing the clasp. “Whatever that scoundrel did, he won’t be able to bother Puff anymore. This will make sure of it.”

He carefully wound the bracelet around Virgil’s neck, gently adjusted it until it fit right, and reconnected the ends. The last thing Virgil saw before the world went hazy was the three of them, the best parts of Thomas, looking back at him without any fear or hatred.

Then, there was only Puff.

#sanders sides #tiny dragon virgil #g/t #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #ts thomas #ts janus #writing #my writing #tsits #the shapes in the silence #mind the warnings #again for clarity this is Absolutely not the last chapter #or even close to it #ask to tag #lets hope the next chapter is a quicker process hm? *ominous evil wink*

[writtenonreceipts]

Square One Pt 2

I got some ideas and thoughts on the background for the story.  I should have thought about all of that prior to posting but I can be really impatient. Ha.  So bare with me if there do seem to be slight inconsistencies between this and the first chapt.  Also, I am the worst outliner.  I am a discovery writer through and through--just a small warning haha.  

And then as soon as I say I want to write a multi-chapt fic I loose all inspiration and motivation.  story of my life...enjoy anyways...i hope

#

“I hate your boyfriend Manon,” Elide announced as she entered her friend’s living room with a glass of water and bowl of chips.

Manon was seated casually on her couch wine glass in hand and computer already settled on her favorite site to online shop through.

“At least he’s cute,” Manon said half-heartedly.  She took a long sip of her drink as she filtered through her shopping.

In the bedroom, Marion was snuggled with the “puppy” Abraxos and an ipad loaded with cartoons.  It was only Thursday but Elide couldn’t bring herself to announce no more television.  Especially if it meant having a brief moment of solitude with her friend.

“He’s making me be friends with Lorcan Salvaterre,” Elide said.

Manon snorted into her wine and gave a choking cough. “He’s doing what?”

“Apparently neither of our kids have friends,” Elide said.  She paused when a sudden wave of emotion washed over her.  Scowling at herself Elide shook her head.  “Dorian says it would be a good idea for Marion and Tavish to have playdates, become friends.  So now I have to be friends with Lorcan Salvaterre.”

Cackling madly, Manon threw her head back with a laugh.  The woman seemed to be enjoying this far too much.

“It’s not funny,” Elide growled.

“Oh yes it is,” Manon said. “Especially if we get a repeat of the fourth of July."

Manon may have found it hilarious, but Elide was struggling more and more to hold back on the emotion building in her chest. When Elide didn't reply, however, Manon went quiet which of course only made it harder for Elide to hold back her tears.

"Lide," Manon said in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

"It's fine," Elide insisted. She brushed furiously at her eyes. "I'm fine."

She didn't have to look at Manon to know that her best friend was about to call her a liar when the front door to the apartment opened and Dorian entered.

"Hey babe," he called out before he saw Elide. "And babe."

"No," Elide said, "you shouldn't call me that."

Dorian grinned before making his way to the kitchen and grabbing a beer for the fridge. "Where's the menace to society?"

"You're child?" Manon asked quirking a brow.

"It's a dog, and it's a demon," Dorian replied.

"Uncle Dorian!"

Dorian managed to turn just in time before Marion attacked Dorion, nearly sending him toppling over. Abraxos, a rescue pit bull with half a missing ear and plenty of battle scars scampered into the room to join the attack on Dorian.

It was enough chaos that Elide was able to forget her earlier rise in emotions and laugh as Dorian struggled to keep his feet and beer.

"Where was my hello this afternoon?" Dorian exclaimed with a laugh. He managed to put his beer up on the counter and scoop Marion in his arms.

"You're a teacher, I can't know you," Marion said.

Elide and Manon leaned into each other laughing heavily while Marion dictated all the reasons why she had to ignore him.

"And you're old," Marion concluded.

"I love your daughter," Manon said as she finished her glass of wine.

Elide couldn’t help but agree.  She watched contentedly as Dorian accepted Marion’s help in getting dinner together.  The unspoken agreement of the Havilliard-Blackbeak household was that Manon did none of the cooking.  And Elide was in full support of it.  She’d tried Manon’s cooking before and it hadn’t been great.

It wasn’t much later when Marion had finally collapsed from exhaustion on her mother’s lap and was in a peaceful slumber.

Dinner had consisted of grilled cheese and soup, both of which Marion declared were her two favorite things.  Ever.  Another reason that Elide decided Dorian was one of her favorite humans.  If he could get her daughter to eat something without complaining, he could do anything.

“Do you need us to watch her?” Dorian asked as he settled onto the couch beside Manon.

It took Elide too long to really grasp what Dorian had asked and remember what day it was.  “Can you tomorrow night?  They have me on a closing shift.”

“Of course,” Manon said immediately.  She tucked her head back against Dorian’s chest and nodded encouragingly.

“I can always Aelin too, I don’t want to bother you and Dor--”

Dorian cut her off. “You’re never bothering us.”

Elide could only nod.  There was an unspoken invitation lingering behind Manon’s words.  An invitation that Elide would never accept.  She couldn’t.  Maybe she was too stubborn, but there was something about accepting the help--the charity that she knew she would never get over.  Besides, Manon and Dorian had already done more than enough for Elide.  More than she would ever be able to pay them back for.

“We should probably go,” Elide said, running her fingers through Marion’s hair. “It’s a school night.”

“I’ll pick up Marion so you can go straight to work,” Manon offered.

“That would be great,” Elide agreed.  She carefully pulled Marion into her arms and stood. “I can give you money for pizza or something.”

“Hell no,” Dorian said. “We’re making our own pizza tomorrow.”

“We are?” Manon asked doubtfully.  “You remember what happened the last time we did that?”

“Well this time the damn dog won’t get on the counter and eat all the cheese,” Dorian said.

Manon grinned slyly at him. “You love that damn dog.”

“Not as much as I love you,” Dorian replied.

Elide let out a groan and moved to the door before they started jumping on each other. “You two are disgusting.”

Manon cackled loudly and jumped up to follow Elide to the door. “Love you, Elide.  I’ll text you when I pick her up from school.”

Elide flashed one more grateful smile to Manon before hurrying out to her car, Marion still deeply asleep in her arms.

#

“So,” Rowan said with a deep frown, “Havilliard’s making you and Lochan be friends?”

“Our kids,” Lorcan said.

Rowan shrugged and leaned against the kitchen counter of Lorcan’s place.  In the living room a cartoon was playing and Tavish was yelling along to it--something with power rangers or something of the sort.

“I still can’t believe the two of you have kids,” Rowan said. “I thought she went off to play soccer at Wendlyn University.”

“So did I,” Lorcan said.

He could remember the day she told him about her plans.  She’d said she was going to get the hell out of Terrasen and never look back. That no one was going to stop her.  Lorcan remembered that was the day he realized that he kind of loved her.  They were only seventeen and Lorcan was always in awe of her spitfire nature and her passion for life.  Even when her uncle tried to break her continually.

“I didn’t think she’d ever come back here,” Lorcan added, “let alone stay here.”

Not after what had happened near the end of their senior year.  What he’d said.  What he’d done.  But Lorcan pushed that thought aside.  Thinking about the past had never done him any good.

“Dad?” Tavish poked his head into the kitchen and blinked up at his father innocently. “Can we go visit Momma tomorrow?”

Lorcan looked at his son, confused.  It wasn’t completely an out of the ordinary request, but strange nonetheless.

“Of course, bud,” Lorcan said, “but you know your momma wants you to go to bed on time.”

Tavish’s eyes widened to an impossible size before he nodded sullenly and dashed through the kitchen to his room.

“How has he been?” Rowan asked quietly as Tavish began slamming drawers in his room to get ready for bed.

“He was barely three when she died,” Lorcan said, “it’s been what?  Four years?”

“Yeah but if he’s being distant in school to the point that the principal--” Rowan began, but Lorcan scowled at him.

“Havilliard’s an ass,” Lorcan said, “and is just looking for something to do.”

“Lor,” Rowan said softly, “you know he’s right.”

Lorcan sighed heavily as Tavish dashed back out of his room to the bathroom.  The water turned on and the brief sounds of brushing filled the silence.  Tavish skidded back into the kitchen, his shirt was on inside out and his pants were pulled on unevenly so the left leg was bunched around his knee and the right flopped over his foot.

“Uncle Rowan,” Tavish said “can we go to the park with Fleetfoot on Saturday?  Aelin said we could.”

“Maybe on Saturday, my man,” Rowan said, he flashed Lorcan a look, “I hear your dad has plans for you on Saturday.”

Tavish cast Lorcan a long look that could easily be interpreted as uncertain and disbelieving.

“Marion’s mom invited us to play soccer on Saturday,” Lorcan explained.  Though he tried, Lorcan couldn't quite hide the grin when Tavish smacked a hand on his head.

“Marion doesn’t even like rocks or worms dad,” Tavish said. “Why do I hafta be friends with her?”

“Because friends are good for you,” Lorcan replied.  It was the worst explanation imaginable and Tavish fixed him with a look that was so obviously exasperated and reminded Lorcan so much of himself that he actually laughed out loud. “Besides, it’ll be fun.”

Taish let out a loud groan and slumped off towards his room.

“I’ll tuck you in in a minute, bud,” Lorcan called after him.

“Good luck with that,” Rowan said under his breath.

“I’m not looking forward to the teenage years,” Lorcan agreed.

Rowan grinned and shook his head before heading out for the night.  It was a regular thing that Rowan or any of their other friends would drop by at any given time.  Lorcan had decided long ago that he would have an open door policy with his friends and Tavish.  His home was a safe place.  No matter what, Lorcan would make sure his son didn’t have the same childhood he did.  

As Lorcan entered Tavish’s room he helped pile the blankets on the bed, making sure they were tucked sufficiently.  He also had to make sure the stuffed animals were all properly arranged as well.

“Marion’s weird dad,” Tavish said as Lorcan brushed his hair back. “She brought her stuffed animal to school.”

Lorcan shook his head, deciding not to remind Tavish that he’d defended Marion’s choice.  Instead he posed a question.  “What’s wrong with being weird?  Everyone’s a little weird.”

Tavish sighed and squirmed in the bed, getting comfortable. “I dunno.  No one really talks to her.”

“Sometimes talking to people is hard,” Lorcan said.  He knew Elide had been the same way in High School, always quiet, always careful.  Until you got to know then the dam would burst and insanity would ensue.  Lorcan smiled softly and leaned over to press a kiss to Tavish’s forehead. “You don’t have to be friends with her if you really don’t want to.  But just try this weekend okay?”

Tavish nodded slowly.  “Fine.”

“Good,” Lorcan said.  “Do you want to read something tonight?  We can finish that Spider-Man comic?”

“No s’alright,” Tavish said with a yawn.  “G’night daddy.”

Lorcan kissed his son once more and stood.  He made it to the door before Tavish spoke again.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Lorcan said as he turned off the light and headed off to bed.

#

as always, thank-you thank-you thank-you for reading/commenting/reblogging. 

I have bits of the next chapter ready, hopefully by next weekend it’ll be done...

tags: Using my general TOG taglist and specific requests for this fic. Let me know if I missed you.

@tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire  @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx  @bamchickawowow @bri-loves-sunflowers @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

#elorcan #elorcan au #elorcan fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #tog #empire of storms #queen of shadows #single parent au #square one #the fanfic no one asked for #the fanfic no one asked for continues

[jenonctcity]

Charia Kingdom - Masterlist

An NCT Dream Fantasy Series.

Charia Kingdom - A place that has equal amounts of sunshine and rain, hot and cold, rich and poor, and, humans and creatures that couldn’t be identified as that of human status. Ruled by the Lee family with a king whose cutthroat and unforgiving nature is feared by many. The poor not cared for by people who have everything, where disease takes the lives of those unfortunate enough to not have the funds to purchase medicine. A place where humans live among  creatures many would find terrifying. It’s no secret that Vampires, Werewolves, Wizards, etc live amongst them like normal people. Unless you murder someone, you’re considered normal. Everyone lives their own lives, whether it be a happy life, or a sorrowful life...

Mark Lee - Born into a family of renowned witches and wizards, there came a time for Mark to fly the nest. The nest being their comfortable home in the middle of the bustling kingdom. After the death of the castle’s witch, 17 year old Mark was brought in to take her place. He lives up to his family’s name and has impressed the royal family with his natural talents. Now 20 years old with the trust of the royal family and kingdom, shy, quiet Mark is given a new obstacle when a new maid is brought to work alongside him in the castle. Granted she’s mostly there to clean up his mess, but he finds she plays a much bigger role in his life than just that. With the new light in his life, Mark faces a new task at hand. Keeping her safe from the horrors of the castle. 

Perils Brewing - [S], [A], [F]

Huang Renjun - Being chased from the royal family’s castle at the age of 16 was never something Renjun hoped for when he was growing up. Having lived in the castle since his birth, his mother, the castles witch, raised him alone. After finding out a huge secret and confronting the king, the king has Renjun’s mother killed, leading Renjun to use the dark powers he never knew he had to curse the Prince of the kingdom. After a bounty is put on his head for his crimes, he lives his life on the run, burrowing away in a cabin far out in the depths of the dangerous forest. A place where many lethal creatures live. Now 19, Renjun has lived in solitude for 3 years, and never expected a girl to break into his home in the dead of night. The girl he encounters is on the run herself, but refuses to tell him why. The stubborn, mentally strong, and brave girl persaudes him to let her stay with him. Can he live alongside another being when he’s still got dark magic flowing through his veins and a huge secret heavy in his heart?

Running From The Dark - [S], [A], [F]

Lee Jeno - Being the crown prince of Charia Kingdom was never something that worried Jeno. He was raised by his mother to smile when talked to, and to have a kind heart so that he would rule the kingdom differently to how his father had. At 16, he’s unexpectedly hit by a powerful curse after hearing a ruckus going on in the echoing halls of the castle. It flips his life around, his new status as a werewolf being a challenge he hates with all his heart. It turned the kingdoms sweetheart into an angry, brooding boy. Now 19, Jeno has learned how to control when he phases with the help of the remedies Mark brews for him. The only thing he can’t control is bursting into a gigantic wolf every time a negative emotion takes over his mind. No one apart from the workers of the castle know that he’s a wolf, it being kept a secret from the public. He runs in the forest in his wolf form calm him down, until he comes face to face with a rogue wolf who threatens his life with her piercing glare. After imprinting on each other, Jeno has to learn how to balance his new love, his duties as prince, his burning rage, and a secret that is revealed to him that changes his life once again. 

Stepping Into The Moonlight - [S], [A], [F]

Lee Donghyuck - Donghyuck the cheeky, charismatic boy who wasn't born a demon. As a human Donghyuck was known for his greed and crimes. So when he died at the age of 19, Satan offered him an eternal life in exchange for completing tasks. At the age of 79 he was banished from hell for failing to take the life of someone he decided upon himself didn't deserve to die. For his sin, as punishment he was sent to live on earth forever. Being immortal and watching people you make connections with die from illness, old age, or suicide was a far bigger punishment than dying. Currently 128 years old, he’s seen many of his peers around him die in many ways, and every time it happens it chips away at his sanity and positive attitude. He swore never to fall in love, but upon meeting the princess of Charia, he can’t keep away from her. After falling in love with her, it’s becoming more likely that she will be ripped away from him sooner rather than later. With his emotions flipping completely, can he manage to stop himself from sinning to save the woman he loves?

Coming Soon...

Na Jaemin - At the age of 19, Jaemin was brutally beaten by a knight of the royal family and left for dead. He was found by a creature of the night and turned into a blood craving vampire. Many years later, he’s now 210 years old and lives life one day at a time. He’s rather peaceful for a murderous creature, only being considered dangerous when he’s starved of the only thing he needs; blood. Before his death, he was an orphan, abandoned with only a pile of letters telling him of his true heritage. Something that’s always planted in the back of his mind. After hunting one night, he hears screams coming from the kingdoms small hospital. There he finds a nurse being attacked by a patient. After defusing the attack, he has no other choice but to help the wounded nurse, not being able to leave her there half dead as he was once before. The addicting scent of her makes him keep her around despite the danger that he poses to her by having her in his home. He finds himself doing something he never would have dreamed of doing to keep her around. After finding out about his true heritage, she changes, for the good or bad? Will this be a love story, or a tragedy?

Coming Soon...

Zhong Chenle - Born as an angel in heaven, Chenle had always been obsessed over how humans lived on earth. But forbidden to step foot on earth he had to always watch from above. Turning 18 he decided to take a risk. A risk that lead him to be ripped from his family, forced to live his life on earth like a mortal human. He has his halo taken from him, but is plagued by the wings that have a heavier feeling on his back than what they used to in heaven. Living the life he always wanted, he’s a happy soul, rarely being sad even if he can’t leave the house as much as he would like. His wings are hard to conceal, and with fallen angel’s being a more than rare thing, he’s scared he will be killed for his wings. You’d think if he was killed he would go to back heaven right? Wrong. After being thrown to earth, he had no means of survival other than stealing to stay alive. One night he meets the hyperactive, bubbly girl who works in the local bookstore. A friendship immediately occurs between the two. He soon finds himself falling for the girl and has hopes of living the normal life he always wanted. As he gets used to living as a human does, will life pan out the way sweet Chenle wants?

Coming Soon...

Park Jisung - In human form, Jisung looks like the worlds softest boy. His shy, slightly awkward persona often tricks people into thinking that he couldn’t even fight off a new-born baby. So why has the royal family put this lanky, slender 17 year old boy in front of the castles main gate as its protector when the rumours are that a terrifying dragon is the guarder of the castle. Well, something not many people know about the boy is that he’s a dragon hybrid. And can turn into an overwhelmingly huge dragon that has even the bravest of knights quivering in their chain mail. So far no one has ever gotten past the boy, and he intends on keeping it that way. So when a girl who looks around the same age as him slips past him and is found stealing from the castle, he’s not too impressed. She’s locked away in the dungeon, and the curious boy has to meet the only person to ever get past him. She’s sentenced to death but after pleading with his friend Prince Jeno, her crimes are pardoned, but only if Jisung keeps her with him as his assistant. He encourages her to change her thieving ways, but will he ever be able to change the hard-headed girl he argues with daily? What if you add strange feelings of love into the mix and a promise that one of them doesn't intend on keeping?

Coming Soon...

(A/N: Hi! I’m so excited to for this series I hope you enjoyed the teasers! whose are you most looking forward to? I worked really, really hard on these so please let me know your thoughts and give it loads of love! Also as all of this series hasn't been written yet, things may change in the plots and summaries but it shouldn't be anything too drastic. Also this series will contain smut, angst and fluff. Obviously no smut for Chenle and Jisung, and each story will get warnings and categories marked on them when they’re published.)

#nct #nct dream #mark lee #nct 127 #lee jeno #huang renjun #lee donghyuck #Zhong chenle #park jisung #na jaemin #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct scenarios #nct series #nct dream scenarios #nct dream series #jeno #jaemin #mark #renjun #chenle #jisung #donghyuck #haechan #lee haechan #nct jaemin

[fairestwriting]

Hello! May I request a match-up, please? I’m a female, INTP (enneagram 5w4 and tritype 548), neutral good, and an introvert.

I love to spend time in peace and quiet, preferably somewhere in nature. With strangers I behave coldly and wary, but in the circle of loved ones I become more confident and friendly. I think I can be compared to a hedgehog. I’m a perfectionist, but at the same time, I tend to procrastinate. I enjoy long walks in the park (in the field or in the forest), hiking, birdwatching, mushroom hunting and fishing. I really love rural life, so I dream of getting my own house with a garden and a vegetable garden someday. To some extent, I love loneliness, and when I find myself in someone’s company, I quickly begin to seek solitude. I like to read books, mostly treatises, biographies, popular science literature, and much less often novels. I’m a rapturous person, a romantic who can find beauty in a small stone or tree roots, but I try not to show it too much, preferring to keep everything inside. I appreciate politeness and etiquette; therefore, showing due respect to my interlocutor, I expect the same from him (otherwise, I’m disappointed in the person and draw some conclusions). I don’t use swear words or some dirty jokes, and I’m not very well-versed in modern youth trends. My friends say that I’m a rather innocent and naive person in some aspects. I often run away from the real world into the world of my own fantasies and I cool down quickly when some idea or work ceases to interest me, but when I’m very seriously passionate about something (for example, reading, study or work), I can forget about basic things (sleep, food, or all together). Career and self-development are always on the first place for me. My family is in business, so this partially affected me because sometimes I notice that I think like an entrepreneur, and, knowing various business tricks, I cannot easily get led to advertising. I’m witty and resourceful, I have a good sense of humor.

Regarding relationships, I like interesting people with fascinating hobbies (preferably related to hikes or art), which I could also try, because I enjoy learning new things and sharing what I know with other people; I love those who are open and honest in relationships, as well as understanding and intelligent people.

I prefer action to words. It’s a little difficult for me to talk about my feelings, so I express them through caring for another person, showing an interest in what he loves, and I prefer that the person with whom I would be in a relationship do the same, since I see no point in long romantic speeches.

I also really love making cakes, pastries and other sweets. I’m just learning, but I love the idea that I can please my loved ones and make them smile by cooking something delicious for them.

Well, I hope it turned out not too much and not confusing. P.S. I would like to stay anonymous if possible.

Thanks for considering my request!

Oh I knew just halfway through this that I’d definitely pair you with Jade

Getting the obvious out of the way- Your interests match up pretty well, he also really loves hiking and nature, so you two could have a great time engaging in that together! You’ll never run out of things to talk about or do.

Jade is also very devoted and caring, but not in an overwhelming way. He’s understanding, mature, and more on the discreet side when it comes to affection, so you’d get along pretty well. He doesn’t mind that you have trouble putting your feelings into words, you caring for him and spending time with him already tells him all he wants to know, and he’ll do the same for you, while also knowing to give you space when you want it.

Both of you would just be very comfortable around each other, I think! You can talk about anything or nothing at all, you two operate in very similar energy levels too. You’d be a whole power couple tbh, all pristine and polite like royalty.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst matchup #jade leech #lis writing

[smrwine]

Robin Hood’s Bay in October was a chilly sunrise and the sound of the northern sea funneling into the shore line. Harry drove into town in his Bristol 405, top down and trimmed curls tangling in the wind. Most of the historic hillside village was still in bed. Warm, peaceful, and bathing in the sunbeams. Harry parked his car by the harbor, keen on embracing the town and its scenery before winter hid it all.

The ocean waves listlessly splashed against the surface of the sea cliffs as decaying wild flowers danced without rhythm in the wind. Homes, centuries old, were cast in a golden hue along with Harry’s Manor on top of the hill out across the horizon. The air smelled sweeter than usual. It was as if clementine trees had blossomed in his absence and flourished the village with its fragrance. Harry’s stomach tingled.

As he strolled along the sunrise coloured village, he was reminded of just how easy it was to romanticize a quaint life there. A mated one, at that. He envisioned settling down, walking hand in hand with his omega down these streets and hoisting a pup up on his hip ready to spoil them with lollies and ice cream. He imagined sketching in his hilltop garden, while the little ones ran around and his mate trimmed the thorns off the rose bushes.

It was sweet, rose coloured. But he knew it was unattainable. He was aware that his fashion house required all of him and more, and that he was involuntarily sworn to a life of solitude. As his business grew, his opportunities for companionship shrank, and he was all too aware. He still daydreamed about it, however. Far more often than he cared to admit.

The sunrise on his shoulders was warm as he aimlessly wandered through the sleepy town. The clementine air grew thicker and a taste of vanilla danced at the back of his throat. Harry cleared his lungs of the tantalizing scent against the arm of his wool coat - nearly positive that there were overgrown clementine trees enclosing around him. The cool breeze swept up against his cheeks again and curled under his nose, forcibly pleasuring his alpha. 

The scent was even sweeter than before. Harry inhaled an instinctual lungful and let the nectarous smell titillate his taste buds.

“Heaven’s sake—” The fruitful fragrance claimed Harry with an overwhelming urge to sniff it out and soak himself with it. The fragrances flared as he wavered downhill, legs quivering down the cobblestone steps on a maddeningly desperate plight of their own. The scent intensified as he ascended deeper into town. It was most pungent standing in front of a building at the bottom of the hill.

Victoria Hotel. A landmark familiar to him through many ruts spent alone and the divine breakfasts that followed.

The scent could have been orange jams and fresh vanilla scones wafting out from the kitchen, Harry reasoned, but his inner alpha indefinitely recognized it was not.

Succumbing to his insticints, Harry pushed through the doors of the establishment, bypassing the lobby on his way. The various smells of a full English breakfast were undermined by the fruitful sweetness that possessed his senses wholly. As far as he could recall, no other scent had so quickly ripped him from reality quite like this has. Harry cared for nothing more than to find the source.

He came upon the dining room. Every table was dressed with red picnic linen, white cloths for the lap, and polished glass and silverware. Harry’s senses went haywire as he took long strides across the room - seeking and inhaling obnoxiously. There were only two tables seated with occupants. One a mated couple in their elder years and the other a meek beta unassuming as all. None of them were sweet smelling like the thick scent that enchanted Harry beyond reason, and when he looked back up to check for other faces, he noticed the wait staff giving him concerned glares.

A tight smile was forced by his lips as he realized how feral he appeared. With a calmer approach, he paced over to a table, rid himself of his topcoat and scarf, and carefully folded them over the back of the opposite chair. He fixed himself in his seat. Slicked his curls back behind his ears.

The scent was still stifling, but Harry swallowed his instincts down and held his act together. He couldn’t quite pin the pungency on anyone in sight and the density of the smell was far too thick to merely be jams and scones. Surely there was an omega around. One more than likely off their suppressants and dangerously close to their heat.

Harry shakily rolled out the linen cloth and placed it on his lap as he sat at the table. He needed to fully play the role of a patron seeking breakfast in order not to raise suspicions. Harry desperately wanted to know where the scent originated from but didn’t want to present himself as a destructive knothead in the process.

It may have been too late, he feared, but the rest of the wait staff had gone back to their usual duties - cleaning up, refilling the coffee, and wrapping utensils with the hostess. It was baffling that no one else was roused by the scent at all. Indifferent, even. Harry tried to keep his shifting eyes and crawling skin at bay to blend in with the others, but he found it quite difficult to ignore the intoxicating scent. He distracted his inner alpha by arranging and rearranging the forks and knives on the table, listening to the clicks and clanks, and letting the shine of them divert him.

His scrambled mind was settled for a moment, then the kitchen door swung open, and Harry was nearly knocked out of his chair.

Out walked an omega, blue eyed and beaming. He wore a deep red waitress uniform with lace trim around the collar, just thick enough to conceal his neck, with a white apron tied around his hips. He moved around the room with stunning effortlessness and grace, as if Harry was watching him waltz rather than walk. He was gorgeous and so clearly soft spoken as he talked with and greeted the others. His skin glowed a pretty shade of golden and his lips bowed out in the shape of a heart. His scent tamed something within Harry. The overwhelming haze of clementine and vanilla left him immobile yet complacent in his seat.

A familiar warmth pooled in the pit of Harry’s stomach. One that had been nagging him for weeks.

Harry made eyes with the omega just as he looked up from the other table. His gaze was non-threatening and soft. Harry flushed with heat as the omega turned away and headed back towards the kitchen. Every instinct within him wanted to follow, as well as scent and protect. Heavens only knew what kind of troubles were lurking on the other side of that door.

Harry bit down on his urges, harshly. He shook himself from the fog as he blankly stared at the table before him. A mantra of yes, him, that’s the one, squabbled around in his mind. He desperately ignored how absolutely mad it sounded and how reminiscent it was of his mother.

It only took a moment for that kitchen door to swing back open and reveal the omega walking  towards him. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away, not even if he wanted to.

The omega tripped on his way over - foot caught under the leg of a pushed out chair. He stumbled and stomped to a quick recovery and quietly laughed amongst himself. Harry followed suit, grinning and chuckling at his swift landing.

The clementine air was thick enough that Harry could swear he tasted it. Hints of vanilla tickled his tongue as the omega slowly approached him.

“Good morning,” he said, voice light and sweet like candy floss.

“Good morning.”

“Are you ready to order?”

“I am, yes,” Harry said with practiced confidence and a smile - discreetly inhaling the omega’s delightful pheromones.

“What would you like then?”

With the way the omega was smirking down at him, Harry was suddenly famished. Not a single breakfast menu was large enough to tame the hunger that rumbled inside him, yet he slowly listed off his order off anyway.

“Full English, please. Two poached eggs, but not too runny. Bacon, sausages, mushrooms, and tomatoes. Please, go easy on the butter. Light on the salt too.” Harry watched as the omega scribbled down his list. No fuss, just acceptance. “Toast, scones, cream, jam. Not raspberry though.”

“No?” the omega asked, pondering up what else he could offer. “Strawberry?”

Harry nodded, a wiggly smile on his lips. “What else?”

“Juice? Coffee? Tea?”

“Is the tea Yorkshire?”

The omega scoffed. “Of course.”

“Good.” Harry smiled. “I’ll have a pot of that too, please.”

“Great choice—“

“And sugar.”

“And sugar.”

“No milk.”

The omega smiled, “No milk.”

Harry watched as he finished off with his meal ticket, quietly laughing at the long list of items. As Harry watched, he noticed that even the scrawl of the omega was gentle and delicate like the hand that penned it. Harry wanted to scent them. Kiss them soft and gently.

“All done?” he asked the nodding omega. “Show me.”

He handed over his notepad, fingertips searing against Harry’s knuckles in the process. The rapid pounding in Harry’s chest tripled at the touch. The same repetitive chant of him, him, him returned. He smiled tightly as he suppressed his blatant desire for the sweet omega before him. He glanced at his order instead and hushed down the urges of sin.

“Will you remember all of this?” Harry challenged.

“Yes. Of course.”

Harry tore the ticket from the notepad and handed back the stack of blank sheets. The look on the omegas face was confusion that quickly morphed into understanding, then a smile.

“I’m keeping this.” Harry folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. “See you in a bit.”

As the omega walked towards the kitchen door, Harry noticed the light of the room slowly faded with him. Everything was a shade darker and a bit less warm. The clementine fragrance still overwhelmed his senses like rain filling the tide at bay. The further the omega strayed, the more aware Harry became of his surroundings. He noticed every potential threat, every wandering eye, and the way his urges buzzed under the fragility of his skin.

With intentions based on pure instinct, he longed to scent the omega in any way possible. He wanted to wrap him in his coat to mask his luring smell, lick from his shoulder up behind his ear, mark up his lithe body with his earthy alpha essence. Harry was completely ignorant to the alpha population there in Robin Hood’s Bay, and could only anxiously imagine a feral one pummeling through the hotel doors to get to the omega.

Like he did himself.

It wasn’t long before the omega pushed back through the kitchen doors. His arms were lined with full plates of food and his hands clutched to a piping hot tea pot. Harry watched with a curious simper as the lad placed everything on the table, adjusting the main course before him, and aligning the toasts, scones, and jams around it. He pushed the porcelain teacup towards Harry, tea bag already inside. Slowly, he poured the hot water from the pot into the cup, making a show of it as he raised the stream and lowered it back down.

The omega sat the pot on the table a safe distance away from Harry, placing one hand over the other in front of himself, pleased. The scent between his legs grew thicker and Harry nearly choked on his tongue imagining the slick running down the back of his thighs.

“Is everything to your liking?” he asked Harry in a demure whisper.

Harry glanced at his breakfast only then noticing he hadn’t stopped his ogling to check if he in fact got everything right. There was an array of food. No milk or butter in sight. Harry didn’t much care for the savory meal before him as the omega stood there so tempting and sweet.

He looked back up to the omega, who was now biting his lip to a rosy pink swell. Harry couldn’t tell if it was because he was awaiting approval or if he was just as hungry as Harry. Either option was appealing and mind numbing, and the way their pheromones mingled together told Harry the feeling was far from one sided.

“Will you have dinner with me?”

Harry was clearly lost in his senses to blurt out something so bold, rude, and unexpected. He could blame it on his inner alpha proceeding with the first steps of courting without consulting either of them at first, but he knew it was only himself. His utterly brash confidence was a blessing and a curse.

The omega only laughed under his breath as he stepped closer.

“Yes,” he reached into his apron and picked out a folded note. He handed it over as he rubbed his other hand against Harry’s shoulder. “Meet me back here at seven.”

As the omega stepped away from the table, taking all of his loveliness with him, Harry zealously opened the folded note in search for more.

For the hungry boy, my name is Louis.

#cwo #snippet

[unadulterated-strawberryniall]

Normal People, Abnormal Jobs. [Chapter 1.]

Normal People, Abnormal Jobs. Relationships in the entertainment industry are never easy. Scheduling is nearly impossible, paparazzi hound you down every date, and everyone seems to weigh in their opinion. Is it possible to have a soulmate with such a demanding career?

Loosely inspired by the 2020 Hulu drama, Normal People, this story explores the possibility of finding true love in a world motivated by reputation, scandal, and money. Touching on themes of love, mental health, and adulthood, Normal People, Abnormal Jobs navigates how two musicians from opposing worlds maneuver a destiny that consistently pulls them together. It’s challenging, yes, but if it’s true love, it’s worth it.

“7 minutes until call time!” The gruff, assertive voice of my manager, Shane, rang through my ear-piece, bringing me back to reality. I opened my eyes, tilting my head forward to stare at myself in the brightly lit vanity. My heart began to feel heavy as the familiar sense of anxiety settled in my stomach.

“Are you on your way to the stage? It’s time to move!” The voice rang through again. Shane knew me too well. He’d predicted I would wait until the last minute, that I would stare at myself in the mirror and thoughts of doubt and uncertainty would cloud my mind. Clutching my water bottle tightly in my hand, I nimbly stood up, and headed to the door of my trailer.

The warm, New York sunshine greeted me. Although I could feel summer approaching in the humid air, the sun was still gentle on my skin. And thank god it was, I thought, I couldn’t last a full 45 minute set in 93 degree weather.

Normally, I’d be escorted to the stage by a team catering to my every desire. They would be the ones carrying my guitar, my water bottle, my microphone, while I mentally prepared myself to face the crowd of thousands. But this time, my first appearance back on stage after so long, I’d asked to simply be left alone. After a worldwide pandemic and a bout of classic millennial anxiety, I’d become quite used to moments of solitude and forcing myself to toughen up through the nerves. I’d already memorized the route to the stage, and my mind began to wander as my feet took the twists and turns through the parking lot involuntarily.

What if you fuck up?

You’ll be fine.

What if they hate you?

You’ll be fine.

What if you lose all your fans? What if you’re not relevant anymore? What if you fall off the stage?

You’ll be fine.

The game of table tennis my mind was playing was beginning to feel exhausting, but I didn’t have much time to process it as suddenly, a giant ball of hard plastic and synthetic leather whacked against my shin.

“Ow! What the fuck!” I shut my eyes, where hot tears immediately pricked, and grabbed my shin, which was now burning.

“Oh no…” I heard footsteps running towards me. “Are you okay?” A warm hand placed on the small of my back, while another ran over my shin.

“I’ll be fine… Fuck.” I mumbled, my eyes still shut tight.

“‘m so sorry. It was an accident, I swear, love.”

The pain was beginning to dull, allowing me to be brought back to the present, and I was able to pick up an accent coming from the mysterious figure holding onto me. When I felt the tears in my eyes dissipate, I slowly opened them to bring my attention to the unidentified male. A pair of crystalline blue eyes stared unwaveringly into mine, and I felt my heart leap into my throat. Sun kissed and glistening with a faint layer of sweat, a figure with quaffed brown hair stared at me with parted lips and bated breath.

“‘m an idiot, didn’t see ya walkin’ dere.” His hand was still grazing the small of my back as I lowered my leg to the ground.

“It’s alright, accidents happen.” I couldn’t control the timbre of my voice, which had now gone soft. “You might want to be careful where you play soccer next time, though. Everyone’s walking through here.”

He chuckled. “You mean football, petal.” He removed his hands from my body, stuffing them into the pockets of his athletic shorts. “I’m goin’ on stage after de next performer, figured I’d hang around ‘ere until it’s my turn.”

I nodded. “Well you won’t be waiting for much longer…”

His eyebrows arched and his mouth went ajar. “Are you the next one? Dat’s great! Good luck!” He bared his teeth to be in what should have been an award-winning smile. “I’m so sorry again, about the…” He motioned to my shin before running his hand through his hair awkwardly. “I’m Niall.”

“I’m Mina.”

“Mina, where are you? You’re about to go on!” My ear-piece buzzed.

“Oh shit! I have to run.” Without hesitation, I bolted towards the stage, where I could hear an announcer amplifying the crowd.

“Alright Gov Ball! Are you guys ready?” 

More screaming, growing louder and louder.

See? They’re excited for you. They want this. You’re going to crush this.

“Welcome to the Big Apple Stage, Mina Peace!”

I made it to the stage in the nick of time, and barely had a moment to take it all in as a guitar was thrown into my hands and I instinctively began to play the opening riff to my newly released single, Gravity.

“Mina, you’re so lucky you made it.” My ears buzzed once again. I turned to my left, noticing Shane standing at the side of the stage, shaking his head at me disapprovingly. I smiled at him, knowing that he couldn’t stay mad at me for long.

Everything seemed to fade around me, and it was just me and the music. I wasn’t focused on the crowd anymore. I wasn’t focused on my anxieties. I closed my eyes, reciting the lyrics that had once been so intimate to me, but now shared with the world. Had the adrenaline not been pumping through my veins, I could’ve broken down and cried. The catharsis of songwriting had been my means through the pandemic. Nearly 2 years shut away in my Los Angeles home, a sudden halt to the success I had been building up for several months. I had released an album just a week before the pandemic began, and this was my first chance to perform it.

45 minutes flew by in the blink of an eye. I wanted to beg the show’s organizers to give me just a few more moments on stage. The crowd seemed to want it to, as I felt encompassed by screams, cheers, and applause while I took my bow. “Thank you, New York. I love you. I’ll be back soon!” I choked into the microphone, feeling my throat become tight.

I could feel tears pooling in my eyes as I ran off the stage.

“Mina, holy fuck! That was incredible!”

“That may have just changed your career!”

“I didn’t know you were capable of that!”

My vision went blurry as various members of my team engulfed me with embrace.

“W-where’s Shane?” I sputtered out. I looked up to see Shane, right in front of me, the biggest smile I’d ever seen plastered on his face.

“You did it, kid.” He said simply, opening his arms to me.

I threw myself into his arms, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe. While the people around me gawked in confusion, all asking if I was okay and why I was crying, Shane said nothing and held me tight. He ran his hands up and down my back, calming me down. After several minutes, I was finally able to regain composure, and I let him go. The crowd around me had dispersed, and I was able to catch my breath.

Shane had returned to the stage crew, handling the equipment that was being transported around, and I took a stabilizing breath while I felt a presence approach behind me. I turned around to see Niall, arms crossed but a pleased smile on his face. He’d put a fresh shirt and jeans on now, and it was almost hard to believe this was the same person I had seen playing soccer in the parking lot less than an hour ago.

“That was brilliant. Legend. Seriously.” He put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. I looked at his hand, feeling a warm spread from the area that was not due even remotely to the spring heat, and looked back at him.

“Thanks…”

“Will I see ya at de after party?”

I nodded without thought. I wasn’t planning to go to the after party. That is, until now. I had some early morning radio show appearances for tomorrow, and I’d taken my career so seriously that I would never go out the night before any press interviews. But my heart spoke faster than my mind could react, and there was no going back now.

“Great. I’ll look fer ya den.” He grinned at me, turning around to prepare for his performance.

I watched Niall walk off, a strange sense washing over me. I felt both calm and uneasy simultaneously. How was that possible? 

If I had my way, I would’ve stayed to watch Niall’s performance, but Shane grabbed me, and immediately began to discuss how news outlets were already buzzing about my performance, and he had set up a space for some interviewers to chat to me near my trailer. As Shane hurried me off to my trailer, I peered back to see Niall, guitar in hand, heading out to greet the crowd. I caught the blue of his eyes glance at me one last time before he turned his attention to his performance. Guitars began to blast and I could hear a piano play a familiar riff, but the sound faded away as I made my way away from the area. I could barely focus on the interviews as I began to wonder what would happen at tonight's after party.

#i got bored and wrote a fanfiction lmao #maybe ill continue it #maybe i wont #haha #niall horan #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #1dff #idk what else to tag #1d #niall #njh #niall james horan #is that good?

[imaaa]

my dream birthday celebration —

it's 5 a.m., and i wake up. i grab my phone along with my earphones and go upstairs to watch the sunrise. i breathe in the energy that the morning air offers. my skin feels content when it comes in contact with the soft wind. i am gleaming. i look around the terrace. there is no one in sight (yay! i can dance a little too). my eyes absorb the serene sunrise while my favourite playlist plays in my ears. i also find myself swaying weirdly. i'm at peace. i'm genuinely happy. and then suddenly i'm overwhelmed.

an hour passes in the company of the sky. and then i think of heading downstairs. but before that, i move 360 degrees to look at the wonders of the sunrise for the last time. and i end up sighing because i always have this dissatisfaction that maybe i didn't take in the full view of the sky, that i still would have missed something.

it's 6:00 a.m., i brush my teeth, take a good shower, wear my favourite oversized top along with comfortable pants. and of course the sneakers i bought. after i comb my hair, i make a sandwich and a glass of milk for myself. the breakfast goes fine. then i put on my cute backpack over my shoulders, carry a water bottle, and drop my wallet in my pants pocket. i go to my parent's room, wake up my mum from her slumber. she wishes me a happy birthday. i hug her telling her i'm leaving for my trip around the city. and with a big grin, i step out of my house.

it's 7 a.m., i'm on my way to the metro station. on foot, it's a 30 minutes walk. and i got what i wished. empty roads and streets! i hold so much fondness for them. maybe because when there's no one around, i don't have to be self-conscious, and that's immensely relieving. did i mention that i can't go anywhere without my earphones? so, yes, that playlist i made yesterday is doing wonders in my ears. the weather is beautiful. with the right amount of coolness. i'm happy. i'm grateful.

it is 7:30 a.m., i reach the metro station. i wholeheartedly love these metro rides. you may ask why? because they give me freedom. i can be unbothered. i can be carefree. and most importantly, i get to know myself during these trips. with all those strangers around, i get to feel the best form of solitude. 

it's 8:30 a.m., i am sitting on a park bench. i didn't plan anything for today. all i knew was that i wanted to be alone. i find myself unknowingly looking at the movements of the leaves. then i am staring at the sky. i feel light. after some time, i spot an empty swing and ride it for a few minutes. and i forgot to mention how i like carrying a bag on my shoulders because it feels like a shield to me.

i wander around that area. looking at people going on with their lives. simply walking and seeing different lives unfolding right in front of me is oddly calming. i end up making theories about life, emotions, and human behavior.

it's 10:30 a.m., i go to some elegant cafe. order waffles. relish them quite slowly. i notice the interior of the place. it is pretty. it has a pleasant ambiance. i cherish my self's company there.

for the next few hours, i take the metro to different places. i click pictures of whatever fascinates me. people, crowd, shops, markets, the hustle-bustle, streets, flowers, trees, sky, vehicles, buildings, birds, animals; it was as if i wanted to remind myself of how much i'm grateful for this freedom. there's so much tranquility in being the unknown. being known comes with the subconscious pressure of maintaining your personality all the time. there's this burden of keeping up with the levels you've already set in the minds of people who know you. being unknown is like freeing yourself from that burden. i have always liked the idea of solo traveling for i don't have to constantly worry about others or my behavior when i'm with them. to be with me, to the welcoming unknown, to the no judgements; this thought fascinates me so much.

for lunch, i go for pasta and a mocktail. maybe, later on, i grab an ice cream too. then i go to this small plant nursery because i enjoy taking a closer look at the plants. it's therapy. after that, i buy myself a few novels, promising myself that i'll read them at the earliest. book shops are too comforting. then, i purchase some new clothes and shoes because i get to treat myself on my birthday. and lastly, i spot a moon necklace in one of the shops. how can i say no to it? right after i pay for it, the moon necklace finds its place on my neck.

it's 6 p.m., i make my way towards this peaceful place that offers magnificent sunset views. and sunsets tempt me to write poetry. so, a new poem greets my notes app. and then, maybe i meet a stranger, and we share a few healthy conversations. the conversations that i'll think about every now and then. it will be amazing if i'll get to meet a baby too. it's fun talking and playing with them.

it's 8 p.m., i'm lying on grass and stargazing. but i won't lie, it's the moon that catches all of my attention. so, it's more like moongazing. then i start to make these scenarios in my head where i'm kissing my lover under the moonlight. i imagine holding hands, the night walks, adorable waves of laughter, and everything cheesy and full of delight. i sigh because imagination is all i've got right now. 

it's 10 p.m., i am ecstatic. after having dinner, i take the metro back home. i am tired, but i'm not complaining. i would love to be this type of tired every day. every bit of this day charged me with euphoria. as i walk towards my home, i get filled with overwhelming melancholy, the one that surfaces after you've experienced intense happiness. as i step inside my house, my family welcomes me with a birthday cake. we share a few minutes of sweetness. and then, i make my way to my room. i take a quick shower. thinking about all the events of the day, i smile widely. i open my notes app, cut off "a solo trip around the city" from my bucket list. as i whisper a quick "thank you" to the universe, i listen to a voice inside me, it says "happy birthday, love" and with that sleep greets my eyes. 

©lifeandverses

[swastikholidays]

15 Ways to Spend Less and Enjoy More

Life's more than just existing. One day it will vanish. Make sure it's worth living. Don't just exist. Live, enjoy, explore, thrive, Cherish your solitude. Do anything but let it produce joy, a sense of fulfillment.

Believe in miracles, experience wonders, do whatever it takes you to be happy and fulfilled. There is a saying, "Money doesn't buy happiness". Let me disagree and agree with it at the same time. When you are planning to relish the magical experience at Disneyland, nothing except money will let you live that moment.

But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy it at all without currencies. It takes a creative mind to think beyond exceptions and make life worth living. So, whenever next time you are out of budget but still want to seek that sense of fulfillment and happiness, scroll through fifteen unique options you can try your hands on.

1.  Play a Musical Instrument

What's more soothing than music? Music calms you in ways that are not easy to explain. Go for musical instrument sessions or take out your guitar or piano from the store and you are good to go. It won't cost a penny.

Image Source: shutterstock.com

Even if you are a newcomer, it's worth taking live sessions from YouTube and starting learning an instrument, so that whenever you are at a family dinner next time, you can showcase your skills to everyone, and more than that it will amaze you in unbelievable ways.

2. Walk by the Beach

Most of us are lucky to live by water which has amazing quality to soothe our senses. Try that early morning walk by the beach on the powdery sand or an evening walk by the water when moonlight is fully showing its effect inside the waves.

Image Source: Stocksy United

You can even spend a full day around it, experiencing sunbathing by laying your body on the sandy coastline. This soothing experience will pleasure you in ample ways and give you a sense of fulfillment.

3. Go Hiking

Though going for hiking tours will extract major currency out of your pocket, a nearby or city outskirts hilly landscape will not cost much. You can pack your bag, put all the necessary equipment in it from a water bottle to a small camping kit.

Image Source: Wallpapper Cave

It will grant you fitness as well as an amazing experience. Hike the top of the valley, place your camp there at night, and experience that beautiful morning from the hilltop.

4. Devour Chocolate Delicacy

Chocolate makes everything water. Its properties make it an addictive delicacy. Who doesn't love chocolate anyway? Whenever having a bad day or left with less money, do nothing but go to a store and buy chocolate to experience amazingness.

Image Source: The Chocolate Delicacy

A chocolate cake, truffle can do wonders because all you need is peace, love, and understanding, and a chocolate bar bigger than your head.

5. Family Picnic

A trip may sound like a costly affair but a picnic is a perfect example of enjoying more and spending less. Choose a nearby park or a peaceful location and go out on a family picnic.

Image Source: SheKnows

Pack all the food items, mouth-watering dishes to water or juice bottles, and make sure to pack a mat. Take a racket or a football or a cricket kit to enjoy more. Live, love and laugh, and be the best version of yourself.

6. Ride a Bike

There are days when we feel like being alone and going somewhere far where nothing chases us and no one except our company can be our companion. For those days, your bike can come to your rescue.

Image Source: Le Tour De India

Experience a bike tour to nearby areas while a soft breeze kisses your face and gives you a soothing feel. Sometimes we don't need a trip to enjoy ourselves more, a biking tour can be very touching. Just maintain safety and you will be on unexplored endeavors of life.

7. Explore Nearby Places

For how many years you have been living in a particular location and haven't explored the nearby locations. You may never know that there could be some hidden gems existing nearby your residence. It's way more adventurous than exploring a new destination, especially if you’re living in historic cities such as New Delhi or Hyderabad.

Image Source: Stocksy United

You can take your bestie with you and enjoy it to the fullest. You can begin from the backyard or a location on the outskirts of the city. Learn about historical monuments nearby or know about the total geography. It's up to your inner explorer to see whatever they want to gain.

8. Enjoy Happy Hours

It is a term used for the time when a particular restaurant or bar offers discounts on drinks. You can gain the maximum out of it if you plan accordingly. Just know when you need to enter a particular foodie joint and devour free appetizers and discounted menu items.

Image Source: Showbiz Cheat Sheet

Likewise, you can save money and enjoy the limited currency you have in your pocket. No matter how stressed you are throughout the day, the magic of happy hour will extract that from you and let you enjoy it amazingly.

9. Volunteer

The ultimate sense of fulfillment comes when you render exceptional services for your countrymen. Join an NGO or volunteer for social service to contribute even your bit to society. You never know a little contribution from your side can be a lifesaver for another person.

Image Source: The Town of Edson

Enjoying not only means fulfilling yourself or doing things which can benefit only you, sometimes the real sense of enjoyment can be felt when you see someone else smile because of you and let them attain what they deserve.

10. Adopt a Hobby

Routine tasks are good, there's nothing wrong with doing productive work but adopting a hobby and practicing it on a daily or weekly basis will not cost you anything. It will make you feel peaceful and accomplished.

Image Source: Mantelligence

It can be anything from listening to music, dancing to your favorite tune, or cooking new dishes. When you know that you have things to do even on free days, you will never feel bored or feel like planning something extraordinary and a hobby doesn't cost much but your skills and time.

11. Exercise Outdoors

Hitting the gym could be part of your routine but working on your fitness outdoors can be a day challenge or an activity for the days when you are planning to enjoy in a real sense. Get up early in the morning and choose a nearby park or backyard lawn to practice fitness.

Image Source: NBC News

Soothing breeze, early morning rays of sun touching your face will do wonders for your health in and out. Going to the gym for fitness may cost much but doing the same exercises outdoors won't cost anything plus will also give you a real sense of accomplishment.

12. Karaoke Sessions

Clean your backyard first thing in the morning and decorate it well for evening karaoke sessions with delicious barbecue plans. This is a luxurious and in-budget experience at the same time. It could be whole family fun or just you and your small fam jam.

Image Source: CTV News Vencouver

Dress well, take pictures, record videos & live music sessions. A perfect evening time with family can turn out to be worth relishing. Relive the moments and enjoy to the fullest while your expenses can be controlled.

13. Visit Your Village

Your busy routine might not have allowed you to meet your grandparents and go to your village. Give yourself a change of scene and experience beautiful natural surroundings while you can devour mouth-watering cuisines prepared by your grandma.

Image Source: Kerala Tourism

Take a jungle safari with grandpa or learn from his hunting skills to enjoy as much as you can. Learn the art of cooking healthy dishes from them and spend some fun-filled time. Nothing can make you feel happier than your village tour and meeting your grandparents.

14. Find a Nearby Library

What's more soothing to a book lover than visiting the library and surrounding yourself with multiple books and that exotic smell of books can do wonders to your mind. You can enjoy the maximum and your whole day can be fun-filled with multiple books.

Image Source: Bluesyemre

Explore several pieces of work in a nearby library of the town and you never know which historical piece you may lay your hands on which can turn out to be a huge add-on for your knowledge bank. Don't forget to make a library card so that whenever you feel the urge to get surrounded by books, you don't have to think much.

15. Surf the Waves

Surfing doesn't mean only buying or renting expensive boards. Just surf through your body while taking precautions to not go deep. Equip yourself with a pair of swim fins to aid propulsion. This adventurous experience can be an add-on for your skillset as well as soothing for your senses.

Image Source: Offshore Surf School

Whenever next time you want to feel rich and have the urge to earn more for happiness, just count the things that money can't buy and experience to your fullest.

If you have any question regarding this wonderland – do email us and I will be happy to answer any of your queries or any travel package.

Email id: [email protected]

Contact Numbers: [phone], [phone], [phone], [phone]

Swastik Holiday - Best Tour & Trravel Agency In India!

#15 WAYS TO ENJOY AT LOW BUDGET #15 WAYS TO Travel AT LOW BUDGET #FIFTEEN UNIQUE WAYS FOR HAPPINESS #UNIQUE OPTIONS TO ENJOY AT LOW BUDGET #Travel

[tenthousandislands]

Summer 2020

Resentment&Gratitude Part Two

Act II, Gratitude

it's probably life's sweetest irony

how that which we resent most

can be the gift

for which we are most grateful

life itself is the best example

we enter this world ready

with a pumping heart, veins and arteries

a brain busy making infinite connections

a set of lungs, a pair of eyes

hands and feet and the smoothest skin

we know our mother's touch

recognize our father's voice

taintless and whole

the first breaths we take

are only

where the miracle

begins

the sun

returns every day

to illuminate the world

and be a source of warmth

the great supporter of all forms of life

and sun-kissed skin

a feeling that can't be compared

to any other

feeling

trees produce the oxygen I breathe

and I exhale the carbon dioxide

that the trees need

I've seen forests

and they're beautiful

I've been to deserts

and they're amazing

the mountains

awe-inspiring

and I grew up by the water

of a tropical paradise

that is nothing short

of breathtaking

when I look at a flower

or the wings of a butterfly

I look very closely

and I always notice

how intricate the details

how precise the design

they say

there are seven wonders of the world

but everything in this world

is a wonder

birds chirping at my window

the sound of rain on the roof

seasonal fruits

the unique taste of each one

and music

that speaks

to my soul

that first moment of morning

awakening anew

lying in bed on a lazy day

with nothing to do and nowhere to be

safe and settled

warm and relaxed

simply enjoying

the sweet simplicity

of simple comfort

and fast-paced days

getting lost in all the details

the feeling of barely stopping to breathe

and losing track of one day to the next

only looking back

when you've reached the other side

and how it feels to see

all your hard work can accomplish

how the dedication of your heart

and sleepless nights

pay off

exhausted muscles

after strenuous labor

satisfying a ravenous appetite

with a nourishing meal

falling into bed at the end

of another day

when you can safely say

all your energy was well-spent

good teachers

and the feeling when you know

you've asked a good question

and how gratifying it is

to receive a good answer

especially the kind

that inspires you

to keep asking

that rare friendship

that drops into your lap

unexpectedly

the person you can only hope to find

once, twice, maybe three times

in a lifetime

the fireworks at the moment

that instantaneous connection is made

and the hours of laughter

that leave you both breathless

feeling safe to pour out your heart

offering your shoulders

to help carry their burden

mind-reading

late nights

being there for someone through it all

knowing someone is here for you

playing guitar in an open field

cartwheeling across

freshly mowed grass

picnicking in the park

in the late afternoon

when the air is just right

the smell of someone’s

family barbecue

in the distance

and I miss the nights

when I used to stargaze

I never knew the constellations by name

but I always wished I did

and I recognized them all the same

I'd lie down on the pavement

and be still and silent

let myself be absorbed by the sky

I'd dissolve into the black expanse

I didn't need anything in those moments

and that's a special kind of peace

I remember hearing GD's whispers

those quiet nights just the two of us

when I still considered Him

an acquaintance

as I was learning how

to make and hold

a sacred space

for just Him and me

and I'm not sure anything I've ever done

has been nearly as important as that

except

for losing myself entirely

in someone else's eyes

in another person's cause

in an inner world

that almost starts to feel

like my own

but the best part

is that it isn't

self-transcendence

dedication

knowing I'm nothing

and that starting with that premise

may actually lay the groundwork

for my life to mean something

and that gives me hope

but solitude is important, too

long walks

on a route I'd know in my sleep

letting thoughts fly

giving emotions a voice

and a chance to be heard

paying attention

to uncharted territory in me

that will thrive

if I'll only give it the space

[introvertllux]

Peace in Normalcy: Chapter Four

(The chapter is told from Prue’s point of view. Anytime, that you see italicized words, that means Prue is speaking via her internal monologue).

Genre: Romance, Drama, Comedy, Comedy-Drama

Warnings: 18+, depictions of mental health, mental disorders, depression, talks of suicide, and sexual abuse. (Please do not read, if you may be triggered).

*Any depictions of mental health are based on MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. Please do not think I’m making fun or or mocking anyone, again these experiences are based on what I have seen and, or been through myself. Also, I am not intending to romanticize mental health or disorders in anyway. Lastly, If you do decided to read this story I am very thankful and I hope you enjoy it. : )

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prue’s P.O.V

Tuesday, October 1, 2019

After getting the courage to talk to both of my parents (mainly, my mother) about reviving my hobby of art I can say I feel somewhat relieved? Content? Maybe happiness? I have to say I don’t really remember a lot of things that used to make me happy before I went to the hospital. I feel as though I was working at a job I liked, that I could see myself doing but what else was there too it. I feel like the beginning of my adult life was this constant battle of passion vs security. Did I want to take the chance and journey to reach my dreams or did I just want something I know I could fall back on? Who knows, maybe if I would have taken the risk, I could’ve been a modern-day Vincent Van Gogh or Frida Kahlo.

Choosing between my passion and something I knew would make my parents proud always made me feel like I never had a life of my own. Especially with my mother being the strict traditionalist, she was everything had to be exactly her way and I wanted nothing more than to rebel as a child because she was a rationalist and I was always an idealist. She based everything on logic and me on emotions.

I love my mother and would do anything for my family, (including giving my dreams) but yet we still could never see eye to eye. I don’t want to be naïve and think we will always be on the same page but I want us to be able to live peacefully knowing that we are both different but that doesn’t mean we love each other any less. I’m really hoping this trip to the mall today goes well, maybe it will be an opportunity for us to relearn one another.

“Prue! Are you almost ready?” I heard from outside my bedroom door. I scurried from inside of my closet and pushed everything back inside my closet.

“Yes, mom! Give me one second.” I yelled back.

“You have two minutes to meet me downstairs or I’m leaving without you.” She said in a sing-song voice.

I grunted as I struggled to push all the pieces of a broken easel and other art supplies back in the closet. I closed the door as I marked down in the notes of my iPhone a list of art supplies that I needed. I then grabbed my phone and the new air pod dad brought for me and proceeded downstairs.

I made my way past the living room. I paused as I saw my dad watching television on his recliner.

“Hey, dad. Mom and I are going to the mall. I’ll see you later.” I said giving him a small wave.

“Hey, Pru-Pru! Come here for a second.” He said.

I walked over quickly, keeping in mind what my mother had said regarding time.

“Um. Mom is waiting for me.” I said quietly but quickly.

“I know. I know. I just wanted to tell you to have fun…I know that shopping isn’t your thing. But your mother thought it could be a way you too could bond. Be… patient with her. She’s trying. I love you both. Be safe. Call or text me if you need me.” He said.

I looked at him softly and gave him a slight nod in response. I turned around and left as fast I could and grabbed my jacket off the coat rack and left. I looked around slightly and saw my mother was waiting in her car.

(Picture of Gwendolyn Walker)

(Picture of Gwendolyn’s car)

I speed-walked up to her car and opened the passenger’s side. I sat in quickly and buckled up. My mom drove away quickly and smoothly out of the driveway. We sat in silence, which I wasn’t uncomfortable with. One thing I can say that my mother and I have in common is our love for quietness. We are both introverts. We found peace in silence and we enjoyed the time to ourselves.

A few minutes past until I heard my name being called. “Jayne. When we arrive at the mall, I have a surprise for you. I think you are really going to enjoy it.” She said.

“Alright. Thank you, mom, I really appreciated you thinking about me.” I said with a small smile.

I looked out of the corner of my eye to see her smiling.

We sat in silence again. I then decided to pull out my headphones. I loved headphones they were one of my sources of solitude (besides art) before I went away. Ever since I got my headphones, I started to make a playlist on Spotify. I had over 2,200 songs and I had just received them yesterday. I unlocked my phone and clicked on the Spotify app. I clicked the shuffle button and my playlist began to play: All Good Things (Come To An End) by Nelly Furtado.

(Spotify Picture)

I started to move my head back and forth as I patted my left hand on my left thigh. I started to silently mouth the words.

Well, the dogs were whistling a new tune Barking at the new moon Hoping it would come soon so that they could Dogs were whistling a new tune Barking at the new moon Hoping it would come soon so that they could Die, die, die, die

Flames to dust, lovers to friends Why do all good things come to an end? Flames to dust, lovers to friends

Why do all good things come to an end? Come to an end, come to an Why do all good things come to an end? Come to an end, come to an Why do all good things come to an end?

I started to tear up slightly at the meaning of the lyrics. This song really symbolized what I was going through currently. Life was by no means perfect before I went to the hospital, but it was decent. But it all came to an end.I felt the car come to a park as I felt a hand on my left leg. I looked up at my mom. 

“Are you alright?” She asked.“Yes-I’m alright. I just listen to a song it reminded me of something.” I said. I looked outside of the passenger side window and noticed we were at Moltthought Mall. I hadn’t been here since I was a child. My parents used to bring Mallory and me here all the time. I guess my mom picked this mall because it had all her favorite stores.

(Picture of Moltthought Mall)

“Remember this place?” She asked with excitement in her voice.

“Y-yeah I do. You and dad used to bring Mallory and me all the time.” I said.

“We sure did. This minus has well been our second home, with all the time we spent here.” She snorted slightly.

“I figured we come to this mall for all time's sake. Plus, you know they have all my favorite stores and they added a Michaels and Blick Arts store right before you left…” She said trailing off.

I got excited at the fact that they added a Michaels and Blick store. I can finally replace all of my art supplies. However, my excitement did not last long as I realized that I had to go into the mall. The mall that was located in the town I was raised in. The same mall I could have the chances of bumping into someone I know. I started to panic as I realized this. 

My heart started to race as I hunched over the seat as my seatbelt tightened over my chest and waist. I took a shaky hand and clicked on the seatbelt button and rapidly pulled on the door handle and pushed the car door open. I ran out and hunched over putting my hands on my knees and breathing in and out heavily and unevenly. 

“Prue! Prue. Breathe, breathe.” I heard my mother said.

“It’s alright. It’s okay. Try and take a deep breath in and out. In and out.” She continued. I slowly did as she said trying to get a grasp on my breathing. I look a big deep breath in and exhaled steadily.

“That’s it. In and out.” She repeated as she gently placed her hand on my shoulder lightly.

A few moments later, I swallowed the built-up saliva in my mouth and stood up straight, my back still facing toward my mother.

“Prue.” She called out to me. I closed my eyes briefly before facing her. “I-I’m sorry- “I began to say before I was interrupted by a hug by my mother, which were very rare. My eyes widened and she embraced me tightly. After a few moments, she pulled away and grabbed both of my hands in hers, and looked into my eyes.

“I’m sorry. Was it something I said? Something I did?” She inquired. “No,” I said as I shook my head. “It’s- It’s just I started to panic…” I said trailing off. She squeezed my hands lightly, signaling me to continue speaking.

I look a small breath and continued, “I- I’m afraid that we will see people we know. I’m- I’m afraid that they’ll shame me or criticize me or you.” I said looking down.

“Prue. I can’t promise you that we won’t bump or pass by anyone we know. But I can promise you if we do happen to cross paths with someone we know, and they get out of line to know that I won’t hesitate to put them in their place.” She said with a hint of sassiness.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Now… let’s head inside I have to show you your surprise.” She said as she pulled me along.

As we entered the mall, I noticed that everything was relatively the same. It was big, spotless, and had the same stores it had even when I was a child.

(Picture of the inside of the mall)

I walked beside my mother and followed her up the escalator as she led us on the path to the surprise.

(Picture of Prue inside the Mall)

 We walked for a few minutes until we stopped in front of a salon.

(Picture of the salon)

“Surprise!” My mother yelled.

I looked at her and then at the salon as she walked in.

“Gwen is that you!” I heard a loud voice yell.

“Diane!” She yelled as she quickly proceeds to walk over to her.

I followed behind awkwardly as I looked around the salon, that was unfamiliar to me.

“Is that Prue?” The voice questioned.

I looked up at the voice. It was? No, it couldn’t be Mrs. Price? She used to do my mother’s, mine, and Mallory’s hair. She stopped doing Mallory’s after she went off to college and mine after I decided to maintain my natural hair in high school (much to my mother’s liking).

(Picture of Mrs. Price)

Mrs. Prices’ face fell soft as she looked over me and said, “How are you? Are you alright?” She asked her voice full of concern.

“Yeah-yeah. I’m fine.” I said.

“Diane got the salon a few months back. I called her as asked her if she can give you a little TLC.” My mother said changing the subject.

“Your mother was so happy that I agreed to this little surprise. Lord knows you need it.” Mrs. Price said. As soon as she finished speaking, everyone got silent. My mother looked at me.

“Err- um. I didn’t. Shit.” Mrs. Price said. I shook my head and said, “No, It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean any harm. Trust me. I know I can use this. I haven’t really been so great at the whole self-care thing recently. I’ve been trying to ease back into it.” I said.

She looked at me and nodded quickly. “Alight. Well, have a seat, in my chair sweetie.” She said. I sat quickly. Thankful the salon was empty, so no one had to witness that interaction. “Good, thing your mom loves to do things early, no we will all have plenty of time to catch up.” She said sweetly.

“Now, I know this was a surprise. But… now that you’re here do you have a style you would like to try?” She asked as she put her hands on either said of the salon chair.

My lips twisted up as I thought for a second. “Hmm, what about a purple undercut with a start shaved on the left side of my head,” I said as I started to point as my head where I wanted the star.

I heard the sound of a disapprovement from my mother as I looked into the mirror.

“Okay,” I said as I giggled.

“I just want my regular style just rejuvenated. My curls seem to be life-less these days.” I said to Mrs. Price. “Okay, I will work my magic.” She said.

A couple of hours passed, and my style was completed. My curls looked amazing. They popped. They looked shiny and full of life. I leaned forward in the salon chair and analyzed my appearance. I loved it. I looked so much better.

(Picture of Prue after her hairstyle)

“Thank you, Mrs. Price. I love it!” I said. “It’s no problem dear. Also, I know you had a thing for make-up we have a make-up section in the back of the salon free of charge if you want to-" she said.

I nodded my head quickly like a kid in a candy store. I loved make-up, as an artist, it was really fun to experiment with looks. However, I hadn’t really been interested in make-up since I’ve been home. I guess… It wasn’t a priority for me. But after even just meeting with Dr. Salomon just once I realized that I have to try for my goals, I can’t just expect everything to go back to normal or even change if I don’t do anything.

Mrs. Price led me to the back of the salon. “Here we are. There’s a mini bag on the side of the station. You can take as much as you want, again it’s on the house.” She said with a sweet smile.

“Mrs. Price you don’t have too. I- It’s too much.” I said feeling a little overwhelmed.

(Picture of the make-up section)

“No. I want too! It’s no problem. Come to the front when you’re done.” She said as she left. I looked through all of the make-up. It was like a Macy’s or a M.A.C. This make-up station had so many brands, colors, and collections. It was a make-up paradise.  I grabbed a mini bag and began to walk through the different stations. I grabbed all types of eyeshadows, lipsticks, lip-gloss, glitters. I also grabbed some primer, blush, concealer, foundation (that matched my skin tone), eyeliner, false eyelashes, and makeup brushes. I mainly picked out some colors that would help me maintain a natural look which was my favorite look. Although, I did pick up some colors that were fun and glamourous just in case I wanted to try a different look at some point in time.

I stopped by one of the vanities and sat down and did my make-up. After, about 30 minutes, I completed my look. I looked up into the mirror of the vanity and smiled. For the first time in a long time, my smile felt real. It genuinely felt real. Looking as put together as I did, made me feel content. I-I feel good.

(Picture of Prue)

I gathered all my make-up back into the bag and made sure the area I was in was as clean as I left it. I made my way back to where my mother and Mrs. Price was. When I arrived, they were in the middle of a conversation. I never interrupted conversations, so I just stood there awkwardly once again until I saw my mother look up into the mirror.

“Prue.” She said quietly as Mrs. Price looked up and smiled at me.

“You look so beautiful. You always do.” My mother said. “Thank you,” I responded as I got embarrassed by her compliment. “Thank you, again for the make-up Mrs. Price,” I said appreciatively.

“It’s no problem. Please stop by when you have time. I would love to see you again.” She said.

“Thank you, for helping me surprise her Diane.” My mother said. “Anytime. I’ll see you next month for your annual appointment.” She said to my mother.

“I’ll be here.” My mother said. We both waved good-bye and excited out of the salon.

“Where to next?” She asked me. I was slightly put off guard. Normally my mother took charge of where we would all go next when we all used to go to the mall.

“Um, we can go to Michaels and Blick's, If that’s okay,” I said. Seeing my mother so inclined to agree with what I wanted for once was… strange. It’s off-putting not knowing if this was her way to keep the peace between us because she wanted to improve our relationship or was it solely because she thought I would blackout? Knowing that my mother wasn’t being herself concerned me because I didn’t want her to feel she had to change herself just because of me. I never want my family to feel scared or ashamed of me just because I’m not myself anymore. I’m the one that needs to change not them.

I decided that I would make the trips to Michaels and Blick quick. As much as I didn’t want too. But I had to be fair to my mother after all she set aside her pride and hatred towards art and drove me here. And she’s also going to pay for the supplies I want as well. She doesn’t even want to be at these stores with me and I know she would much rather shop in her favorite stores.

We went to Michaels first. I brought a few canvases, paint, and brushed from there. Then we went to Blick and I brought some paint markers, sketching pencils, coloring pencils, and a large sketchbook. I didn’t get an easel because my mother wanted to save room for us to carry the clothes, she said we would buy it shortly. But she reassured me, that we could order one and have it shipped to the house.

We walked for a few minutes until we arrived at one of my sister’s favorite boutiques. I knew this would be a long experience. I hated shopping. It never interested me. I’m not at all interested in material things but I couldn’t pull an Adam and Eve and walk around in just leaves.

As we walked into the boutique, my mother said, “Grab whatever you like. I’ll be waiting over at the fitting rooms.” She said. Okay, now I was really concerned. My mother was never the type to just let go of control over anything. If this was a year ago, she would be immediately picking out outfits she saw fit for young women and hand them to me. Now, she’s letting me take charge for once.

I looked down the clothing racks as I thought about my style for a moment. What was my style? I never really casually dressed unless it was to go for a walk or to the library. When I worked I usually dressed very modestly and professionally. I continued to walk down the aisle.

I picked some crop tops out, some jeans, a few skirts, sweats, jackets, and a couple dresses. I grabbed all the clothes I could and placed them over my left arm and I continued to carry the art supplies in my other hand. I walked over to my mom.

“Are you ready to try the clothes on.” She asked.

“Yeah, I’m all set,” I said.

“Well, let me see each outfit when you’re done,” she responded back. I walked into the dressing room and hung up each clothing in the hooks provided. As I placed each article of clothing in a hook, I began to second guess myself.

Have I lost my mind? Crop tops? Min-skirts?  How in the hell would I pull this off? I can’t. And mom. She’s going to lose her shit if I walk out in these outfits.

“Prue? Are you alright? Do you need me to come in?” She asked as I heard shuffling outside of the door.

“No! I mean no. I’m okay.” I said. There was a momentary silence as the shuffling came to a pause. “I know you hate shopping and you’re probably nervous. But I have an idea. What if you do a little fashion show, like when you were a little girl remember. It will be fun, and it will make you less nervous.” She suggested.

I gave it some thought. It wasn’t a bad idea. I was just concerned with my confidence level. My confidence was never too high but after all, that’s happy it’s like my confidence doesn’t exist anymore. But I had to start somewhere? Right?

I decided to try on the outfits I picked out and try to enjoy this time with my mother. It may not be my favorite thing to do but I know that it would bring some joy to her.

(Click on the video below to see Prue’s Fashion Look Book! I made the video myself let me know what you think!) : )

Despite not liking shopping I had a good time with my mother. It was exhausting, to say the least. I know she did not like anything I picked out, but she complimented me and purchased everything I tried on so, that was a positive indication for something.

As we exited the boutique, I heard a voice shout “Gwendolyn? Gwendolyn Walker is that you?” Mother proceeds to walk a little faster as the voice got louder, and footsteps got closer.

“Gwendolyn, I knew that was you!” The voice said. My mother and I turned around and were faced to face with. Rachel.

(Picture of Rachel)

“Oh. Rachel.” My mother said dryly. “Gwendolyn, I knew that was you. You’d never leave a mall without both arms full.” She said with shade to her tone. She quickly looked over at me. I looked away not wanting to hear what too had to say.

“Prudence is that you. I heard you left the hospital early. Is that safe? I heard around the neighborhood you’ve gotten yourself in some trouble. You should keep a better eye on her Gwendolyn, everyone’s talking about it.” She said with a bit of spite in her voice.

“You’re one to talk Rachel. Is Jonathan out of prison yet? And that other son of yours Avery isn’t he, mooching off of his cheating little girlfriend. And that thing you call a husband? Are you divorced yet? Because the things I’ve heard about him yeesh, I wouldn’t even hold hands with a creature like that. Talk all the shit you want Rachel, but I’ve never had to question my position as a mother. I’m not perfect but at least my kids are good. Can you say the same?” She said as turned around walked away.

I followed behind closely as we exited the mall. We returned to my mother’s car and she drove home. About 45 minutes later we arrived home. My mother put the car in park and unbuckled her seat belt.

“Mom,” I said. “Yes.” She responded back. “Back there with Rachel. Do you? Do you think she’s right? That I’m dangerous?” I said feeling and sounding as insecure as I did when I was a child.

“Prue. I- I don’t think you’re dangerous.” She said. She sighed as she turned to face me. “I’m just scared. I don’t know what to do. I’m just as lost as you are right now. I just want you to find yourself to be happy. That’s why today I let you take control when it came to the way you style your hair, your make-up, and even pick out the clothes you want. You may be in these positions where we’re all concerned about you but enabling you and treating you as if-as if something is wrong with you won’t help you heal.” She spoke.

“Last night, when you told your father and me about the art, I had to admit I was very upset. I don’t get what you like about it. But when you said it would help you it dawned on me that my job as a mother is to make sure that you are happy, healthy, and being the best version of yourself you can be. Right now, I am failing at my job. But I, I realized that supporting you is the only way I can help you. That all of us as a family can help you. And it bothers me to see you go and stray from my traditional values, but I have to let you. You’re an adult and I have to be content with the choices you make in life whether I like them or not.” She said.

“Thank you, mom. For trying, for being there. For your support through this.” I said as we exited out of the car and grabbed all of our bags. I greeted my father and went upstairs and organized my closet. I threw out my old art supplies and neatly organized my new ones. I then hung up my new clothes. Lastly, I organized my make-up in my vanity, decluttering any old junk in the draws.

I then threw myself on my bed and pulled out my phone and saw I had a new message from Mallory. I guess I better get used to it, huh. We began to text back and forth.

We continued texting until my sister kept begging me for a selfie and I kept declining her. Suddenly, my phone screen changed as I saw that Mallory began to Facetime me. I hated Facetime and phone calls. I was more comfortable communicating via text. I quickly grabbed my air pods from out of my pocket and tapped my screen to answer.

(Facetime call between Prue and Mallory)

“Ha! Caught you! You look so cute! I knew you would! Also, sorry, I know you prefer to text. But I wanted to ask you something in person. Well as close to in-person as possible.” She said.

“Okay,” I said.

“So...” She said as she drew out her words. Just as though, she’s up to something. Normally when Mallory drew out her words like that, she was about to suggest something that the other person was normally not a fan of.

“Mallory,” I said slightly warningly.

“Okay. Okay, I wanted to invite you over to dinner at my place. I know the first time didn’t go well but… I wanted to make up for it. Before you say no or that you need time to think about it, I just want to say Jahmal and I would be really happy to have you over and I would make your favorite.” I looked at her skeptically when she said my favorite.

“Yes, your actual favorite.” She said with emphasis on the word your. Well, at least I knew my sister and my brother-in-law, but I wasn’t keen on small talk and I knew that it would be an extremely awkward night considering all that’s happened in the last few days. But I could try I suppose and if I felt uncomfortable, I would leave.

“Okay,” I said.

“Really! Okay, great! We’re thinking in two weeks on Saturday the 19th at 7:00 PM.” She said cheerfully.

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” I said as I hung up. I tried not to get anxiety about what I just agreed too. So, I decided to go to my closet and grab my sketchbook and pencils and draw something. At least I’ve found something that can tame my worry and panic, even for a few minutes.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Links to:

Chapter 3

Masterpost

I wanted to thank everyone who has liked or reblogged anything that has to do with this story. I want to give a HUGE SHOUTOUT to the following people for showing me some support (I apologize if i’m missing any names)!!

@pettycruella @jk-unless @plussizeappreciationfics@passionfrvttt @melaninhawtie @lokisbitch27 @blackpridesblog​  @po-taytay​ @themilkcartoonkid @amethyst09 @disaster-shadow@rosemilage @tinydramatist @amethyst09 @kween-beast  @dene-jordan @dreaminglosssy @treesstill @victoriastefanie04​ @wildandjeune​ @shehassomuchsoul​ @beastcoastbitchez​ @blackpridesblog​ @winchwm​ @jnspencer19​ @jaydeee86​ @whoawhoawhoanow​ @missminnie-123​  @donut-crazs​ @dene-jordan​ @dreaminglosssy any members of the group chat Black!Reader.

#writing #black oc #Interracial #blackwriters #black reader #support #creativewriters #mental health #christopher robert evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x black ofc #chris evans x black women #chris evans x black girl #chris evans x black female #black!reader #black!oc #orginal story #complicatedrelationship #Drama #romance #comedy #ryan destiny #michael b jordan #zendaya #zenday coleman

[lyssismagical]

paint me in trust, i’ll be your best friend

Febufluff Day 1 & 2 - Snuggles & Rainy Day {Parkner}

Read on AO3

*

Peter wakes to the sound of rain bouncing harmlessly off his window.

For a few moments of absolute solitude, that’s all he does. Watches the rain clinging to his window, racing their way to the bottom.

His breaths are even, no fear hanging onto his bones, no remnants of nightmares playing out before his eyes, no worries filling his head. Just simplicity and peace.

Harley’s arms tighten around his waist, maybe somehow knowing Peter had woken up, and slowly blinks his eyes open, gazing down at Peter with a squinted expression.

“You ‘kay?” he asks, voice rough from only just waking up. His arms are tight around Peter and his eyes only shine with concern, no nightmares on his end either.

Peter smiles up at his boyfriend, resting his head on Harley’s chest to continue looking out the window at the cloudy sky.

“Yeah, I’m good… Really good,” he murmurs against Harley’s warm skin. “Guess the weather means no Spider-Man?”

Harley squeezes him. “It’s comforting to know you’re aware I’d never let you out in weather like this.”

“A little rain never hurt anybody,” Peter says, but the acceptance is clear in his voice. He doesn’t really want to leave either.

It’s still early, sun barely peeking over the horizon through the clouds, but they don’t bother falling back to sleep. They’d gone to bed early the night before after a long week of hard working.

They’re both at MIT, their last year before they’ll be graduating and taking over Stark Industries full-time. Harley works as a mechanic, mostly odd hours, and Peter works at the library. Between their jobs, their classes, their homework, and Peter’s Spider-Manning, it’s been tough week after tough week after tough week.

It’s nice to just lay in bed, limbs entangled beneath a pile of soft blankets, and watch the rain fall outside their window.

Peter grabs Harley’s hand, one of the two wrapped around his waist, and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“Love you,” he murmurs, blinking up at Harley who grins dopily down at him.

“Love you too, darlin’.”

Eventually, they do have to drag their way out of bed. It’s not possible, especially with Peter’s grumbling stomach, to stay tucked away from the world for all of Sunday.

Harley had laughed when Peter’s stomach wouldn’t stop making noises, pressing a gentle kiss to Peter’s forehead, before stretching to get up.

Harley makes the batter, falling for Peter’s puppy dog eyes when he asks for chocolate chips, and Peter’s the one who cooks them. It’s a simple system, but it means a lot to them. The first time they hung out, they made pancakes just like they are now. Pancakes are like a little tradition to them.

Harley wraps his arms around Peter from behind as the hero sleepily starts working on cooking the pancakes, pressing little kisses to Peter’s neck and shoulders.

“I should write that paper I’ve been procrastinating,” Peter says, leaning back into Harley’s warmth.

But Harley just rests his forehead against Peter’s shoulder and smiles. “Another time?”

Rolling his eyes, Peter tries his best to bite back a smile. “Yeah… Another time.”

As soon as the pancakes are finished, they curl back up on the couch together, tugging an old quilt over their legs and putting Jeopardy on the TV.

It’s another one of their little traditions to watch Jeopardy together. They have a little competition to see who can get more right answers, faster than the contestants. They almost always tie, but it’s still a fun game. If somebody loses, they’re the one who has to do the dishes that day.

“That’s not fair!” Harley exclaims when Peter gets an answer before him. “My mouth was full!”

Peter laughs, rolling his eyes. “That’s just how the game works, Keener. You snooze, you lose… Or, well, you chews, you lose.”

“That’s not even grammatically correct,” the older boy whines, grabbing a bite of Peter’s pancakes. “Therefore, you lose a point.”

“You lose a point for saying therefore unironically,” Peter says.

Instead of arguing, Harley just pushes a forkful of pancakes into Peter’s mouth and shouts out the answer of the next question.

“That’s cheating,” Peter pouts, swallowing the food. “It doesn’t count.”

Harley tries to hide his smile, but his eyes are so bright, so lively, that it’s hard not to notice. “Fine, you win, Parker. I’ll do the dishes later.”

He starts pulling away from Peter to start on the piles of dishes on their counter, from days upon days of saying they’ll do it and things getting in the way, but Peter grabs his wrist, pouting.

“Don’t go?” he says, sending his puppy dog eyes Harley’s way.

The older boy grins, flipping Peter’s hand over to press a kiss to his knuckles.

“We’ll regret it tomorrow if we continue to pile up our dishes,” Harley says, shaking his head. “Don’t you think we should get some work done while we have some time?”

Peter rolls his eyes, tugging the quilt up over his head. “Don’t you think we deserve some down time?”

Face softening, Harley sits down on the couch again, grabbing Peter’s ankle to run his thumb gently in little circles. They’re both tired, it’s been a long time since they’ve had a genuine day off from all responsibilities. It’s been a lot of working, especially for Peter who goes out as Spider-Man every chance he gets.

“I know you’re tired, darlin’, but don’t you think it’ll make you feel better if our apartment doesn’t look like it’s been hit by a hurricane?”

Peter pokes his head out from under the quilt, smiling dopily up at his boyfriend. “I will never stop loving hearing our apartment.”

“And don’t you want our apartment to be clean?”

“Says the guy who didn’t clean his room for months at a time,” Peter retorts, closing his eyes. “I’ll help you do the dishes if you promise we can just cuddle all afternoon.”

Harley, never one to say no to cuddles, smiles softly. “Yeah, honey, I promise.”

“You’re worse than Mister Stark is with pet names, you know that?”

*

Peter sits on the ground in front of Harley, rolling his eyes. “Only you could manage something like this.”

He’s got their first aid kit, constantly stocked thanks to Peter’s Spider-Manning, in his lap, propped open as he digs through it for what he needs.

“It’s not my fault!” Harley exclaims, holding the tissue tightly against his finger.

While washing the dishes, he may or not have sneezed and dropped a plate, cutting his finger.

It’s not a bad cut, but Peter didn’t hesitate before racing off to get their first aid kit.

Peter doesn’t respond, focused on cleaning it up, and then he wraps Harley’s finger in a bright pink Hello Kitty bandaid.

Peter presses a gentle kiss to the bandaid over Harley’s finger before looking up at his boyfriend, a light blush touching his cheeks. “All better.”

“Mm, I think I have another injury,” Harley says, grinning. He taps his bottom lip with his finger. “Can you kiss it better too?”  

Peter rolls his eyes, but leans up towards Harley. “You’re such a dumbass, you know that?”

He gives Harley a quick peck to the lips, but Harley’s quick to grab him by the back of the neck, and pull him in again.

Between kissing, Harley breathes, “I’m your dumbass, though.”

Peter grins so brightly, they have to stop kissing. He drops his forehead to Harley’s shoulder, hiding his smile against Harley’s skin.

“We’ve been together for five years, darlin’, and…”

“I just love hearing it,” Peter says. “You’re my dumbass, and I’m yours.”

Harley slides his hand up down, rubbing gentle circles into his shoulders, pressing kisses to Peter’s temple and the crown of his head. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

They stay there, wrapped in their own thoughts about the future. In less than a year, they’ll be running Stark Industries. They’ll be out of University, out of their little apartment in Massachusetts, and into the tower’s penthouse. Just them two now that Tony and Pepper live permanently with Morgan in their cabin.

Five years together.

Five whole years filled with snuggles and Jeopardy, pancakes and doing the dishes. Nights spent in medical together, hand in hand. Five years of being together, of feeling like they belong somewhere for the first time in a really long time.

Five of the best years of their lives.

Peter sniffles, for once the tears that fill his eyes are happy tears, and he presses a kiss to Harley’s shoulder.

“You okay?” Harley asks. “Sorry about breaking our plate, by the way, it was an accident, and I know the Hello Kitty bandaids were yours-”

Peter lifts his head, grinning at his boyfriend, even when a tear catches on his eyelashes, like the rain that continues to pour outside their cozy apartment.

“I just really fucking love you,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss Harley again.

Harley’s calloused hands are safe against his face, smile making the worry lines smoothen out and his eyes light up, washing away any and all insecurities.

“I really fuckin’ love you too, darlin’.” Harley catches Peter’s tear on his thumb, gently brushing it away. “But I think I promised you cuddles now that we’re done with the dishes.”

Peter smiles brighter, leaning his forehead against Harley’s, trying to control the wildfire of love that burns through his chest.

*

Peter wakes up cold.

He blinks his eyes open slowly to find the TV playing The Office on mute, characters moving animatedly without sound. Harley’s not beside him, the couch cold where he’d once been. Their quilt is carelessly discarded on the floor.

He heads to their bedroom, blinking blearily when he doesn’t find Harley anywhere in their apartment. He tugs a shirt on over his head, one of Harley’s that smells like motor oil and his cheap soap.

“Harley?” he calls out, turning in a circle. Their apartment is empty and quiet. And then, he realizes Harley’s shoes are missing from their place at the door.

He tugs on his own shoes, a pair of old sneakers, and grabs his keys.

He doesn’t have to go far, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Harley’s in the park across the street from their apartment, worn yellow shirt standing out brightly against the grey sky. His arms are lifted to the sky, wet hair sticking to his face.

“Babe?” he calls out, approaching his boyfriend slowly. “You okay?”

Harley turns to him, a grin plastered across his face as the rain pours around them. He takes the few steps he needs to reach Peter. One hand cups his cheek, and the other wraps around Peter’s waist, almost lifting his off the ground as he presses their mouths together, rain falling heavily over them.

Peter pulls away first, squinting up at his boyfriend, he’s laughing and it makes Peter smile too. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I just really fuckin’ love life, right now,” Harley says, eyes sparkling. They’re soaking wet and cold, standing out in the rain, in the dim evening light, and Harley looks like it’s the best day of his life. “I love you and I love our apartment and I love getting to wake up next to you every morning.”

Peter kisses Harley again, he can’t help it. “And you couldn’t tell me this in our warm apartment?”

“I’ve never had anything permanent before, until you came along. And I just- I guess I just realized that this, us, it’s forever, you know? And I just love that. I love you.”

“Are we in a Hallmark movie now?” Peter asks. Kissing in the rain, professing their love. “I love you too, babe. You’re such a dumbass, though. You didn’t need to come all the way out here to say that to me.”

“I’m your dumbass,” Harley breathes again. He’s still grinning like he can’t help it. “And you’re the love of my life.”

Peter shakes his head, kissing Harley again. “You’ve lost your mind, Keener.”

“One day, I’m going to be a Parker,” Harley says, smiling against Peter’s mouth. “One day, I’ll be a Parker and- and we’ll get married and we’ll have one of those sappy little weddings where Tony will cry. And we’ll- we’ll run Stark Industries together and live in Manhattan together. And we’ll- we’ll- I don’t know, adopt a bunch of lost kids like we were, because you’re such a good person. And I’ll get to wake up next to you every day and tell you I love you.”

Peter’s expression softens, catching the tears that fall from Harley’s eyes, even as they mix with the rain water. “You promise?”

“Fuck, darlin’, I promise. I love you, whatever happens, sweetheart, I love you.”

“I love you too. Always, babe, I’ll always love you.”

#lyss writes #febufluff #parkner #harley x peter #harley kener #peter parker #ignore that i'm bad at writing fluff #i never write fluff #this is bad but i need validation #fluff

[iris-sistibly]

I carefully zipped my suitcase after packing all of my clothes and other stuff, I double checked my list to make sure I didn’t forget anything, and when I was I was done, I threw myself on the bed and let my eyes scan through the entire room, “I sure am gonna miss this place,” I said to myself, as soon as I said that, anxiety slowly crept over my system. Tomorrow I will be leaving Pyongyang and head to Russia where I’ve decided to fulfill my dreams and finally start a new chapter. It’s not like my first time to go overseas, but at this moment it felt different. I sighed and glanced at my ring, my most treasured memory of him, how long has it been? Three years? I don’t really know, I’ve lost count...or perhaps I just didn’t want to count the days, or I just wanted time to stop just like how my world stopped spinning when I lost him. 

Moments later I heard a knock followed by the sound of the door knob being twisted, “Dan?” my mom entered my room. I got up and met her eyes, “Are you all set?” she asked. I nodded, she smiled and sat next to me, she placed her hand on mine, “You wouldn’t be here for awhile, so I want you to take care of yourself okay?”

“I will mom, you too,” I answered, “And please be extra careful when you go on dates, don’t drink too much.”

“Oh you don’t have to worry about me my dates are such gentlemen and not to mention very good-looking as well,” a muffled squeal escaped her mouth, she’s been acting like a teenager lately, she has been so adamant of remarrying eversince she consulted that weird fortune-teller she wouldn’t stop blabbing about. I shook my head, three years ago I was engaged to a man who never reciprocated my feelings yet I was crazy at being so determined of pushing through the marriage, I heard Ri Jeong-hyeok has been discharged at the military and went to Switzerland to pursue a career in music and the woman he truly loves as well, I hope they’re happy. While I on the other hand, after learning to accept and let go have decided to remain unmarried despite of my mother and uncle’s persuasion to find myself a new man, have I become “allergic” with the idea of marriage?

I rolled my eyes at my mother, “Whatever,” I said and stood up, I snatched my coat from the closet and wore it. My mom crossed her brows, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going for a walk, I just want some fresh air.”

The chilly breeze immediately brushed onto my skin the moment I stepped out of the house, it was quiet yet I appreciated the solitude, somehow it made me feel at ease, I walked around the neighborhood and as if on cue, memories of the past started playing in my mind. Our first meeting and the second, I thought he was cute but an idiot at the same time, despite of all my efforts to win the heart of my ex-fiance, for some reason I always end up being with him, but I actually didn’t complain, there’s something about this guy that made me trust him. Coincidence or not he was always there, he put up with my antics at trying to make the man I thought I loved fall for me, he was there when I had my heart shattered over and over, he was always there for me and I knew I’ll never be alone. It was never Jeong-hyeok, it has always been him...I just failed to realize and acknowledge it right away. 

I stopped by the nearest park, the sky was full of stars tonight, and it was pleasant to see. Suddenly I saw a shooting star, many people around the world believe that when you see one and make a wish, it will come true. I thought it was ridiculous, yet I found myself closing my eyes, hands clasped together, and wished for a miracle. Well, there’s no harm in trying right? Just this once, I thought, I want to feel his presence.

Moments after, I felt the wind blew gently but it felt different. It felt so...warm, the kind of warmth that was so familiar, I slowly opened my eyes and looked to my side, my eyes went wide, my heart skipped a beat, I don't know why or how, but beside me is the man I’ve been longing to see all these years. I froze in astonishment, is this real? No, this can’t be! I must be dreaming, or hallucinating, there’s no way this could be real...

But does it matter?

“Gu Seung-jun…” I muttered. He didn’t say a word but he smiled at me, his face was so serene, sure he has always been good-looking but I've never seen him so happy, so at peace. He caressed my cheek, my heart was overflowing with joy for the first time in three years.

Right then and there, I was reminded of a very special memory, the night when he gave me my ring. I can never forget the sound of his voice that’s now echoing in my mind, “When I am doing better and if you’re still single, then please give me a chance...I like you Dan, because I like you, I will keep in mind where I am going, I will live that way, I will do that from now on.” 

I’ve been asked so many times why at my age haven’t found a suitable husband, the answer is simple, because I’ve already found the man that I have been looking for, and I intend to keep him in my heart for the rest of my life. He is a bittersweet memory I would never want to forget, and if I would be given a chance, I would go back to the day I met him no matter how painful or tragic our story ended. Because he was the only man who made me feel good about myself, who made me feel loved, who valued me until his last breath.

I still want to give him…us a chance and I will hold on to that no matter what it takes. It may not have happened in this lifetime, but who knows? Maybe in the afterlife, or perhaps in a different timeline and place? One day, someday we’ll be together again. The idea gave me hope, and the fact that I'm seeing him right now is proof that the universe is full of endless possibilities, and I will hold on to that chance. For now, I am contented knowing that he has indeed been better, and for that I am grateful, I on the other hand promised to live my life as best as I could and be happy...always. I finally smiled back at him and said the words I’ve been yearning to tell him all these years, those words I should have told him long ago, “I love you…Gu Seung-jun…” then his image slowly rippled and faded, I was left alone once more, but this time I never felt empty again. 

-

Seo Dan’s Wish by: Iris

Written from Seo Dan’s (duh) point of view

Drama: Crash Landing on You

~Damn, Seo Dan and Seung-jun made me shed buckets of tears. Never thought I would love the 2nd couple but daaaaaamn! They had one of the most unforgettable scenes in the show, Seo Ji Hye and Kim Jung Hyun executed their scenes so well, it’s sad that these two ended their love story in a tragic way. Seo Dan is a badass, she’ll be fine but I still fancy the idea of her and Seung-jun getting the happy ending they both deserve. 

Also, I haven’t written a fanfiction in ages so please bear with me 😂😂

#misc #fanfiction #character tribute #seo dan #gu seung jun #seo ji hye #kim jung hyun #crash landing on you

[lilscreativejournal]

Creative Journal

Potential Idea - 

Boat Museum keeping with nortical theme

Aboriginal History Museum that would allow the traditional owners to share and teach their knowledge

Each would have inclusive and hands on activity’s 

Similar to GOMA and Museum - New Activities every season potentially which would be good for children and parents during the week looking for activities. 

                             Response to the Site and Client Brief:

My overall idea would be for this to be a day activity for families to participate in within the day and weekends. This would mean the activities within the site are going to aim to appeal to all different ages.  

Public Transport 

- Future building of apartments will increase activity on the south side directly across from the river, however current ferry stop closest to these apartments is currently very unknown. Propaganda of sorts could be included at the ferry stations, such as signs or billboards so that people know of Northshore and the entertainment it could provide.

Time Date: 9th of March 2021

Apollo Road Ferry Terminal & Toilet Block | Heritage Places. (2021). Retrieved 17 March 2021, from https://heritage.brisbane.qld.gov.au/heritage-places/445 

Bulimba CityCat stop - ABC News (Australian Broadcasting Corporation). (2021). Retrieved 17 March 2021, from https://mobile.abc.net.au/news/2016-07-01/bulimba-citycat-stop/7547390?pfm=sm&nw=0 

Current Ferry Stops that are closest to North Shore could be a potential ‘advertisement’ opportunity as the residents within the area are very close to North Shore and have ease of access. New apartment blocks are also proposed to be built beside an old army barracks close to the Apollo Road Ferry Stop which would increase activity within the area. Capitalising on this new development will increase stable and frequent activity and engagement within the site. 

- Could approach Council on whether putting up a sign could be viable. 

Time Date: 16th of March 2021 

North shore - Very urban area with concrete and limited greenery 

I would like to aim to bring more colour and life to the area. Paintings on the silo  - preferably dreamtime art that could relate to the museum and interactive activities within the site. North Shore is including greenery and trees through the building of the park at the river front; refer to map. Leave this park free for people to sit down on - this could be  cohesive for eat street as people may choose to sit on the grass. Previously Eat Street was included a open green area where people could sit, however whenever I have visited Eat Street since then I have found it difficult to find a seat, as well as very crowded. I don’t want to build anything on the park land as this could detract from the site. 

Silo - Potentially could make it a “theatre inside”. I hope for this to be one of the most ‘known’ features of the site. Due to the feature being located inside the silo and unable to be seen from the outside, people will be curious to see what is inside. Change the activities every few weeks/months to generate more activity and to bring back others to the site. Silo has great acoustics as well, so sound will be an element as well. 

Cruz, X. (2021). Spectacular Circular 3D Projection Mapping Campaign. Retrieved 24 March 2021, from http://www.creativeguerrillamarketing.com/projection-mapping/eat-my-dear-direct-spectacular-circular-3d-projection/ 

Aim for the Silo is to be a relaxing place where people can go to feel connected to the land and to also learn of Dream Time stories, and making connections to the Traditional Owners of both Northshore and Brisbane. People can come here to when they need to relax and to also find meaning through how this land was created through the eyes of Indigenous Australians. Could also potentially have a link to one’s spirituality. 

Aboriginal Art will also be projected on to the side of Silo so that during the night people can see the Silo and the art surrounding it. Potential for the Silo to remain open during the night however the museum aspect and activities will have to close during the night. My hope is that it will be a similar idea to when the Sydney Opera House displayed Aboriginal Art. This is a focal piece in Sydney, and I hope for this project to be a similar focal point in Brisbane, however it be solely focused on the Traditional Owners as currently Brisbane does not have a site solely dedicated to this. 

Currently Brisbane lacks interactive learning activities in relation to the traditional owners of the land and the culture and practices that took place here. The idea of an interactive and informative museum to teach about the culture is something that Brisbane needs and North Shore has the potential to give. 

Leanne Mirandilla, C. (2021). Indigenous art lights up the Sydney Opera House. Retrieved 24 March 2021, from https://edition.cnn.com/style/article/sydney-opera-house-indigenous-art/index.html 

Current Progress on Idea: 

- Two warehouses next to the Silo; one that showcases 

I will be looking at public transport as the main way to go into North Shore and capitalise on this through advertising as well. 

Potential advertising opportunity on City Cats as this is the most accessible public transport option to North Shore. 

Current Advertising company is RedTv, which allows for advertisements to be on screen. Has an outreach of over 4 million passengers with 92% of these passenger being 18-55. 

Case Study Review and how we can relate this to the current site. 

Time Date: 17th March 

Updated Idea: 

Using Shipping Containers instead of Warehouses; this would also link into eat street and make the site look more cohesive and as one site, implementing the core ideas of placemaking of introducing an idea that belongs and works within the current site. 

This is taking inspiration and the idea came to me whilst looking at the Barangaroo Case Study. 

Aboriginal History of the site: 

- Traditional owners of the land --> Turrbal people 

- Several camping sites throughout the area and surrounding areas including Bulimba and Hawthorne. This area was considered as the Heart, which could be in relation to a now lost dreamtime story. Previously, you could have walked across the River to either side --> potential to include this in a lifelike, smaller version, of this section of River.   

Stakeholders: 

This will include 

- Community 

- Owners of the site

- Businesses associated 

- Northshore - Government 

- Media; Social Media Presence; Triple Z 

Mangroves on the site and link to indigenous people 

Case Study Bangaroo project 

- Can relate to the use of shipping containers and projections to my creative concept

- Showcases a “Symbitoic” relationships with market stalls 

- Develops on the idea of looking at the history of the site  

A particular focus on Dream Time Stories: 

Dream Time stories are unique stories of how ancestor spirits created the land and everything on it along with the ideas they held about the Aboriginal world and how this is expressed through art ("Aboriginal Dreamtime Stories - Japingka Aboriginal Art Gallery", 2021). 

Videos could potentially take inspiration from dreamtime story children books.  

This includes 

Girawe the Goanna, 

How the Birds got their colour 

The Echidna and the Shade tree. 

Rainbow Serpant. 

Artwork of Dreamtime stories that are are similar to what I’d like the videos to take inspiration from. 

The images above showcase how the videos of Dreamtime stories would be shown within the shipping container, vibrant and easy to follow. However my vision for the video within the Silo is a little bit different to this as I would like to generate a different mood. 

I would like the main video to be like a snippet of a large sum of Dream Time stories and the creatures within them flowing and entwining them, to showcase how they all come together to create this land. My main objective is for the Silo to be a place of solitude where one can feel connected and find peace. My vision is that there will be pillows or chairs on the floor and people can lay down and let nature float around them, due to the circular shape of the room. 

I’d like to imagine it would look something like this. With the video image flowing around the room and the people within, being able to stand still and view the images come to life. 

Hermione Harry Potter GIF - Hermione HarryPotter Patronus - Discover & Share GIFs. (2021). Retrieved 31 March 2021, from https://tenor.com/view/hermione-harry-potter-patronus-gif-16365164

Activities within the Shipping Containers: 

Tow Fishing Baskets, made using reeds and branches. Could provide resources and diagrams so that kids could build them. Could also potentially use them as ‘bags’ to collect shells and things however have to look into whether this would be considered culturally insensitive to use the traditional fishing nets as ‘bags’. 

Other activities could include making Australian native animals that are featured in the dreamtime stories using clay or paper for this. Dot painting and painting of boomerangs and or constructing smaller scale versions of traditional canoes that could potentially tie into the connection the site has with the river. 

Costing/Budget:  

Similar to GOMA --> Annual financial report listed that for the activities and services it would cost around $18, 533. This will most likely include all resources needed for the activities as well. I  took inspiration from GOMA’s activities so I will assume that this will be a similar cost for this project. 

NAVA suggests that an artists commission on a 2 year contract will cost $10,000 a year on a 2 year contract. 

EXPENSE, EXPLANATION + COMPARISON, TOTAL

Silo

Approximately $15,000

-       Including landscaping…

$15,000

Shipping Containers

Estimated around $3000 for one

6 proposed, therefore an estimated cost of $18, 0000

$18,000

Project Mapping

2D custom projecting mapping on large scale curved surface (Silo)  and on a smaller scale (within shipping containers) is estimated to cost $5,000-$10,000 (“The Cost of Projection Mapping | ON Services”, 2021). This will include video, and instaling the projectors and necessary lighting.

$5,000-$10,000

Activities

Under the Queensland Art Gallery Board of Trustee’s Financial statement for GOMA, it states that for supplies and services in relation to activities, cost a total of $18, 533 in 2018. As the activates planned for my creative concept are similar to ones at GOMA we can estimate it will be a similar cost(Qagoma, 2018).

Based on the NAVA Code of Practise it will cost $600 for a half day workshop (NAVA, 2020)

$19, 000

Advertisement

$250 per fortnight for 15 seconds every 30 minutes on a 12 month contract (RedTv, 2010)  

$6, 500

Artwork

My idea would be to hopefully commission an artist to paint on the side of the shipping containers. Based on the Arts Acumen website ("ARTS ACUMEN", 2021).

$7,000

TOTAL:

[lady-divine-writes]

An Afternoon in the Garden with Aziraphale

I re-wrote one of my old stories for the prompt “What do I have to do?” Anon asked this for Good Omens. I can see this becoming a full fic. Let me know what you think <3

Aziraphale settles onto his park bench, wiggles into his usual spot, and with a deep, relaxed sigh, becomes one with the weathered wood. He opens the book he brought with him but doesn’t begin to read. Not yet. He takes a long look at his surroundings - the people walking by dressed in smart black suits and ties (odd for a regular old Tuesday but who is he to judge); the clear, cloudless blue sky; the fresh cut grass, soft and fragrant beneath his feet. He takes a breath in and holds it for three before exhaling out to the Universe.

Then he smiles.

He loves it here. This garden, it’s his own private Eden – quiet and peaceful, with an air of love and possibility carried on every breeze that skirts around him. It’s the kind of place that fills you with joy without even trying.

Fills you with hope when you need it.

The bench he’s sitting on is not his bench, per se, but he likes to think of it as his. It’s the one he sits at every day so it might as well be his. Maybe he’ll dictate in his will that after he dies, someone needs to buy a plaque for this bench that says Aziraphale Sat Here … A Lot. Not that he ever has to fight for it, which always strikes him as odd because it’s by far the best bench in the park - set beside an ancient oak whose branches are spaced just right so that it lets the rays of afternoon sun peek through whilst shielding him from the bulk of their glare, keeping him comfortably cool.

There’s a nightingale in that oak. He knows it. He can’t see it, never has, but he thinks he hears it sometimes, singing a special song just for him.

His bench overlooks the duck pond at a perfect distance so that overflow doesn’t drench the ground beneath his feet. Various water fowl walk their families past it in search of spare crusts of bread. He forgot the stale loaf he leaves by his front door, like he did yesterday and the day before. It’s probably molded by now. He’ll toss it and wait for another one to go stale, but it irks him.

He hates wasting things.

It’s strange how much his mind has been wandering off on him lately that he can’t even remember to grab a loaf of bread on his way out the door.

The temperature is warm for a start-of-spring day and Aziraphale invites it. He’s getting sick of chilly weather. But the sun doesn’t feel the way it used to. He can’t explain the difference, but then who would he explain it to? He doesn’t talk to his old friends anymore. No one calls. No one comes to visit. It bothered him once, mostly because he himself couldn’t wrap his mind around who exactly he’d been missing. He couldn’t recall a name or a face. But it doesn’t bother him so much now. He’s gotten used to the solitude. He finds he quite likes spending time alone.

Maybe it’s because he’s getting older, he thinks. After all, he’s roughly …

Aziraphale’s head jerks up while he thinks. For some reason, he can’t remember how old he is. He tries to do the math in his head, but he can’t recall the year. He saw his face in the mirror this morning while he straightened his bowtie and thought that he looked pretty good for around fifty, but is that really how old he is? He chuckles weakly, perturbed. It’s such a weird feeling not remembering how old you are. It’s not like it’s waiting on the tip of his tongue or lingering in the back of his mind out of reach.

It’s gone.

Completely gone.

What the hell is going on?

He decides to shrug it off. He’s probably tired. He’ll go to bed an hour earlier tonight. That should fix it.

Yes. A little sleep should fix everything.

He looks down at the book he’s reading, the one he’s been waiting all morning to get back to, and frowns. Everything on the page in front of him looks like nonsense. He flips through it, trying to find a page that makes sense, but many of them are empty.

Why would he have a book with nonsense printed in it?

Perhaps it’s a misprint? He does have a few. Collectors’ items mostly. He must have grabbed the wrong book by mistake. But he was so sure when he left that he’d taken the right one. He’d checked the spine and everything … hadn’t he?

Maybe this is a dream, Aziraphale thinks anxiously. That might explain the off sensation of the sun on his face. But on the bright side, if it is a dream, Aziraphale can conjure himself a friend. A sweet, kind, handsome companion who …

“Hello, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale smiles.

Jackpot.

The voice comes out of nowhere, convincing Aziraphale that he is, in fact, dreaming. If it wasn’t for the pain in the center of his forehead, that’s been strengthening over time, throbbing when he turns toward the voice, he’d be sold.

The owner of the voice saunters up to the bench and stops. He’s dressed in black and backlit, a broken halo of sunlight surrounding his head, filtering into Aziraphale’s vision, so he can’t make out the details of the stranger’s face. But something in that voice sounded familiar.

More than familiar.

It sounded like home.

Aziraphale raises a hand to block the sun and hopefully get a better view.

“Do I … do I know you?” he asks. With his hand over his eyes, he can see the man’s sculpted cheekbones, the steep slope of his nose, his fire-red hair, a brow furrowed in amusement, dark black sunglasses covering his eyes, and a strange twist of a smile that resembles a thought Aziraphale had a while ago when he …

When he what? What was he doing when he thought of a smile like that? He hasn’t a clue.

“Occasionally,” the man replies. He gestures to the bench. “May I?”

Aziraphale raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t know why he’s hesitant. Wasn’t he thinking a second ago how wonderful it would be to meet a congenial stranger in his dreams? This man definitely fits that bill … and then some. But that smile …

There’s a secret hiding on his lips. And the way he looks at him ... Aziraphale can’t see his eyes behind those lenses, but he knows they’re trained on him. Like they know him, like they’ve seen him before, and not sitting on a bench in St. James’s Park. But like the conundrum of his age, why he feels that way keeps ducking out of reach.

“Be my guest,” Aziraphale says. They’re in a huge park in a city filled with people. There is no way this man is here for him. He’s here for the park, the peace and quiet, the pond. And as Aziraphale mentioned to himself before, he’s sitting on the best bench here.

That has to be it.

The man sits – no, drapes himself over the opposite end of the bench, sunk down, legs spread, taking up more room than humanly necessary, but that doesn’t annoy Aziraphale.

He finds it charming.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve read the works of Oscar Wilde,” the man says, glancing over at the book open in Aziraphale’s lap. “Do you like Oscar Wilde?”

“Oh, this isn’t …” Aziraphale starts, ready to set the man straight. He didn’t bring the works of Oscar Wilde. The book he brought is gibberish. But when he looks down, he sees words printed on the page. Words that make sense.

“Yet each man kills the thing he loves, By each let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word… ”

“What …?” Aziraphale turns the book to the spine and sees it – The Works of Oscar Wilde: Essays, Criticisms, and Reviews. He flips to the title page and sees the same, the fine print suggesting that it might even be a first edition to boot! But everything about it from the front cover to the center spread was indecipherable chicken scratch a minute ago.

Wasn’t it?

“Something the matter?”

“Uh, no,” Aziraphale says quickly. “No, there’s nothing the matter. I …” Aziraphale closes the book and examines the cover again – grey canvas, with slight creasing on the spine, nothing that would depreciate it. But the monetary value means nothing to him. He recognizes it. It’s definitely his book, and an important one, too. It was a present. Someone gave it to him. An important someone. “I thought I had grabbed the wrong book.”

“Do you not fancy Oscar Wilde? Were you hoping for a different book perhaps? Something by D. H. Lawrence possibly?” the man asks, and Aziraphale knows by his tone that he’s teasing.

Being teased by this man warms Aziraphale more than the wonky sun.

“No, this is the book I wanted. Thank you.” Aziraphale opens to the middle and pretends to read, hiding his bashful eyes. The man smiles, reaching for Aziraphale’s knee as if it were the most normal thing to do, but stops short with his hand hovering in the air. A second later, his smile fades. He curls his fingers in and brings his hand back to his side.

“You know, it’s been kind of a bizarre afternoon,” Aziraphale admits, looking at the hand no longer anywhere near his knee. “I’ve been forgetting a lot of things.”

“Oh?” It’s a single, non-committal syllable, but when the man says it, he sounds disappointed.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I usually bring a bag of stale bread with me to the park. For the ducks. But I keep forgetting to grab it on my way out the door.”

“Isn’t that it there? In the bag for life?”

Aziraphale looks down at the bench, at the empty space between himself and the man, then back at him with questioning eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean over there.” The man points past Aziraphale to the other end of the bench. “Isn’t that your bag of bread?”

Aziraphale looks over his shoulder, giving a startled jump when he sees it – a bag for life, like the man said, lumpy with the remains of his stale bread loaf. “Well I’ll be.” He reaches down, touches it cautiously, as if it might leap up on its own, sprout legs, and run away. “How did this get here?”

“Perhaps by magic?”

“I do perform magic,” Aziraphale says, examining the bag of bread.

“Do you now?”

“Yes! I learned a long time ago.” He turns to the man beaming, more than eager to offer a demonstration. “Back in …” Aziraphale pauses, his eagerness washing away suddenly, unexpectedly “… no. No, that can’t be right.”

“What can’t be right?”

“I was going to say that I learned magic from John Maskelyne, back in the 1870s, but that can’t be right. I … I can’t have been alive that long. Could I?”

“Perhaps you could be.” The man sits straight, leans over an inch. “Perhaps you’re immortal.”

Aziraphale tuts and rolls his eyes. “Good Lord. Now you’re just being silly.”

“Am I? You said so yourself it’s been a bizarre afternoon. You’ve forgotten things, haven’t you? You might have forgotten that.”

Aziraphale scoffs, but now that the man has said it, something about that notion nags at him. “No, I ... that’s impossible. Immortality isn’t real. I must be dreaming.”

“There’s a simple way we can check if you’re dreaming or not.”

Aziraphale tilts his head. “How?”

The man leans closer. Aziraphale mirrors the move, ready to hear the secret.

Ready to hear all this man’s secrets, if he’s willing to spill.

“Come with me,” the man whispers, and the words – those three little words – take Aziraphale’s breath, the next one, and three or four after that. “Have lunch with me. Go for a drive with me. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Just name it.”

“Even if I said, I don’t know … take me to the Ritz?”

“Absolutely. I can get us a reservation with the snap of my fingers. Just say the word and I will.”

Time slows as Aziraphale debates what he should do. He’s not an idiot. He can’t go with this man. Even if he’s right about everything he said, Aziraphale has only known him about three minutes. He might get stuffed into the boot of a car and driven out to the middle of nowhere. Not for ransom. It should be quite obvious by his clothing that he’s not worth much. But he can’t assume this man wants to do him harm either. Whatever would the purpose be?

It feels so nice to talk to him though. To be flirted with, if that is indeed what’s happening. Aziraphale can’t remember the last time someone flirted with him. There’s such an allure to this man, like he was made to order – a perfect match for Aziraphale, plucked straight from his brain. Aziraphale doesn’t exactly feel like he’s meeting him. He feels like he’s finding him.

Like he was meant to find him.

But how can he if they’ve never met?

Aziraphale refuses to rule out dreaming, or maybe a hallucination, but none of that makes this decision easy. So he comes up with a response that will solve all of those issues at once. At least, he hopes it does. He doesn’t want to frighten the man off.

But if this is a dream, he’ll be back.

“Find me here tomorrow,” Aziraphale whispers back, “and we’ll see.”

The man smiles. It’s sad, but still as radiant as his others. He taps the bench with his forefinger, then drums the rest across the wood. This brings attention to a ring on his pinkie finger that Aziraphale didn’t notice before. A ring that makes Aziraphale’s eyes go wide. The ring is gold with wings, but that’s all Aziraphale sees before the man stands. It fills a void in his brain but leaves no explanation.

But like a seed, it starts to grow.

“It’s a date. I’ll see you tomorrow, angel.”

“Tomorrow it is then, Mr. …?”

“Crowley,” the man says with a defeated sigh. “Anthony J Crowley.”

Aziraphale’s brows snap together. “Anthony?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that. You just don’t look like an Anthony.” Aziraphale bites his lower lip, his cheeks dimpling over the fact that his man cares what he thinks about his name. “I’ll get used to it.”

“I hope you do.”

Aziraphale doesn’t watch the man go. That’s not how he wants to remember him – walking away. Besides, with every step the man takes, Aziraphale can’t help feeling like something dear to him is leaving, too. He returns to his book, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he scans the page, but he can’t bring himself to read. Whatever Wilde has to say, it’s of no interest to him now.

***

Crowley stands from the edge of the bed, and with a wistful glance back, walks out of the bedroom. He doesn’t close the door behind him. He doesn’t want the click of the lock to disturb Aziraphale in any way. Besides, he wants to be able to peek in on him whenever he pleases without tipping the angel off.

If he breaks the illusion, it might damage Aziraphale’s mind.

That’s what he’s been told, anyway.

He lingers for a moment to watch his angel. Aziraphale smiles, staring in the direction of his book but not reading it, not turning the pages, wiggling in his seat and giggling to himself. That’s the way Crowley loves to see his angel.

Giddy.

Smiling.

Hopeful.

At peace.

But he can’t simply stand here staring at Aziraphale all day. There’s work to be done. Mysteries to figure out.

And that happens in the kitchen.

He makes his way there – a hop, skip, and a jump from the bedroom since he’s bent space and rearranged the rooms of his flat so that no matter where he goes, he’s no more than ten paces from Aziraphale.

“So, book girl,” Crowley greets Anathema, herself bent over several books spread out on his kitchen table, a cauldron of oily green liquid bubbling on the stove top, “you any closer to figuring out how to fix this?”

“No more than I was yesterday, I’m afraid,” she answers offhandedly, focused on the words in front of her more than the demon skulking about.

Crowley huffs, giving her an irritated once over. He’s never been what one would call polite, or patient, but he’s so over that as an answer. He really is. He’d accept her lying to him, even a little, if he never again has to hear the sentence No more than I was yesterday, I’m afraid. It’s become a catch phrase, and she wields it as if she’s required by law to say it.

“You’ve told me that every day for the past year, book girl!”

Anathema stops reading and sighs sympathetically in response. There was a time when Crowley’s barking would make her jump out of her skin. She’d been wary of Crowley from the first. Even before she knew he was a demon, something about him felt dangerous. After becoming sort-of friends, she only felt truly comfortable around him when Aziraphale was present, which was always, so there was no issue there.

The night Crowley showed up alone on her doorstep, soaked to the skin with rain, looking as if he’d been through hell and back (which, as it turns out, he had), was the scariest night of her life. Her heart had stopped dead in her chest when she opened the door and saw him, and she desperately feared it would never start up again. Hair plastered to his face, eyes glowing yellow, cracks in his skin that bled black, fangs she’d never seen piercing the skin of his lower lip - he looked like a monster.

An honest to God monster.

But then he crumpled to a heap at her feet, begging for her help, and she knew he wasn’t going to hurt her. Whatever kind of demon he is, and she has yet to ascertain that (she finds it rude to ask) he isn’t the murdering kind.

“I’ve told you before,” she says softly, “I don’t know what they did to him. Not completely. The only thing I can guess with any certainty is that they destroyed his third eye.”

“Destroyed?”

“Take a look at him – a good hard look at him the next time you see him. It should be in the center of his forehead, but it’s not. It’s not there anymore.”

“And what would destroying that do to him exactly?”

Anathema shrugs. “Different sects of witches hypothesize differently, but they all seem to agree on the same thing.”

“And that is …?”

“His memory is gone. Obliterated. And with it, any sense at all of who he actually is.”

“So he may still have his magic,” Crowley speculates, feeling optimistic for the first time in a year.

“Yes, he may.”

“And we fix that … how?”

“Again, I don’t know,” she reveals, knowing she’ll get a loud, dramatic groan in response.

And Crowley doesn’t disappoint.

“Demon magic and Holy magic aren’t the same as witch magic,” she says over him. “It comes from a different place. Yours comes from Hell, his comes from Heaven. Mine comes from Earth.”

“Your point?” Exasperation adds an edge to his words that he’d been trying his hardest to edit out on the day to day. Not necessarily for Anathema’s sake, though he did consider her a friend and undeserving of his anger. She practically lives at his flat now in her attempt to help them out, and gets about as much sleep a night as he does.

But more than anything, Crowley doesn’t want Aziraphale to find out.

He doesn’t want Aziraphale disappointed in him.

“My point is I don’t know where on the spectrum of magic it falls. Is it weaker? Is it stronger? Is it somewhere in between? Because if that’s the case, I should be able to do something, shouldn’t I?” She grumbles that, sounding as frustrated as he feels. “But I’ve tried everything I can think of. I’m not saying I’m done,” she says, putting a hand up to stop him interjecting before she can finish. “Not in the slightest. But I need to do some research. I need books I don’t have, scrolls, some artifacts. And I might need some help.”

Crowley’s left eyebrow takes a sharp leap up. “What kind of help?”

“Help that I can’t negotiate. Help that … only you can.”

“I’m not leaving, if that’s what you’re implying!” Crowley yells. “I’m not going anywhere without him!”

“You may not have a choice.”

“I don’t think you get it!” He rounds on her, gripping the back of a chair it’s taking all his resolve not to throw across the room. “That’s not some nobody in my room, not some random angel of God! He’s my entire life! My whole reason for existing! And the only reason he remembers as much as he does after an entire year is because I talk to him every day. If I leave and don’t return, even for one day, I run the risk of losing him.” The next words in the queue are so difficult, he nearly has to wrench them out of his throat. “I can’t do that. I … can’t.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand.” Anathema pushes her chair away from the table and walks over to him. “Not completely. I have no idea what you’re going through. I wasn’t raised to have a life with friendship and love. I was raised to have a purpose. Purpose is fine, but it can also get cold and empty. So I’ve never had what you have. Not even in the smallest degree. But I do know that if I did, I would hold onto it with everything I have. Every piece of my soul. That I know.”

Crowley’s rage extinguishes a degree, and that, ironically, infuriates him. He wants to be angry at Anathema, but he’s not. He’s angry that it’s been a year and Aziraphale still doesn’t seem to be any closer to remembering him than he did after Heaven fucking zapped his memory. 6000 years he’s spent with Aziraphale – eating with him, bantering with him, annoying the ever loving heck out of him. He should be glad he had so much of that. Humans don’t get that with their loved ones. Not even close. But the time they would have spent now would have been different than the past. They’d finally come to terms with their feelings for one another. They would have been together as a couple in love, able to express that love without fear of losing what they had as friends. Crowley feels cheated out of the time he can’t ever get back, all those moments when he should have stopped being a coward and simply said, “I love you, Aziraphale.”

He wishes he had that, at least, because the future, from his standpoint, looks bleak.

These visits with Aziraphale in his bedroom are all Crowley has.

They might be all he ever has.

Fuck God and Her fucking plan! Fuck the games she fucking plays with the Universe!

And fuck Gabriel!

FUCK GABRIEL!

If Crowley ever sees that stuck up, self-righteous, bureaucratically cruel sack of festering horseshit again, he won’t hesitate to light him up like a damned Roman candle. He doesn’t care if Heaven comes down on him with Holy Water after that. Every day he’s reminded that he’s losing the only damned thing that ever mattered to him. At this point, if Crowley disappeared into the ether, it wouldn’t affect Aziraphale a single iota. Crowley has enough money socked away to keep Aziraphale comfortable for a lifetime. For a thousand lifetimes. He could stay here in Crowley’s flat, on that park bench in his mind, until reality crumbles down around him.

Anathema would look after him. He’s certain she would. She would take care of him, then her daughters, then their sons. But Aziraphale would become an heirloom – an eccentric old man with no memory who gets passed down to her children’s children’s children throughout the generations.

Crowley sighs.

That’s no sort of existence for his angel. He can’t do that to Aziraphale, no matter how good lighting Gabriel up would feel.

“He’s my angel,” Crowley argues, but the way those words lodge in his throat, they sound more like a plea. “But in an hour, he won’t remember that I’ve been here. That I’ve seen him. Not the way I want him to. But I’ll remember. I’ll remember, and that’s … that’s all we’ve got.”

Anathema shakes her head, her dark eyes set, cheeks flushing a fiery pink. “No, that’s all you’ve got, Crowley! And it’s not enough! It’s not enough! We need more! He deserves more! If you want your angel to remember you, if you want him to have his life back, you have to get off your ass and fight for those memories! They’re important to you, yes? He’s important to you?”

“Of course, he’s important to me!” Crowley growls, unaccustomed to anyone outside of Aziraphale and Hell taking this tone with him. He understands that it might be necessary, but that doesn’t mean he likes it.

Regardless of the fact that that demonic growl of Crowley’s weeds beneath Anathema’s skin, rooting through her darkest nightmares and chilling her to her core, she presses on because she’s got him. She’s gotten him to drop the cloak of self-pity he’s been wearing for a year and come to his senses.

Now she needs to get him moving.

“The real question now is are you willing to do it? Are you willing to fight for him? Are you willing to do what needs to get done, no matter the cost?”

Crowley closes his eyes, absorbs her words. She’s right. He knows she’s right. And he’s known it for a while. In retrospect, he could kill himself for not abiding by her words earlier, but he’d been selfish. Scared. He doesn’t want to leave Aziraphale. He doesn’t want to be apart from him for a single day. He doesn’t know how many of them he has left. He’d come to terms with the idea of never having Aziraphale back so deeply that he was almost okay with their life the way it stood now. But that’s not fair. His angel loves him. He trusts him. And if Crowley were in the same position, Aziraphale wouldn’t be moping inside his bookshop waiting for something to happen.

He’d be out ensuring it did.

When Crowley opens his eyes again and looks at Anathema, they’re full of actual fire. “Fine, book girl. What do I have to do?”

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