#''Piano just draw it yourself'' I am I am... let me cook everything's been taking forever lately

[pianokantzart]

I love everybody rightfully jumping on the idea of Mario getting possessed by King Boo, but at the same time I'm not following the logic of a lot of the King Booario designs I've come across.

While there are a few instances in Mario canon where possession merely leads to a character getting a new coat of paint (Shadow Queen Peach and Lucien come to mind), there are a fair number of possessions that caused a major physical transformation.

(Yes I know Super Dimentio has a chaos heart thrown into the mix, but in my eyes it still counts)

While we've never seen a ghost possess a living person yet we have seen them possess plenty of objects, and the results range from simple glowing eyes when an underpowered ghost is at the helm, to oversized and frightening in the latter boss fights.

Point is... you're telling me that King Boo himself, whose greatest passion besides hating on Luigi is scaring people, would just put Mario in a gothic victorian outfit and change his eye color? I don't see it. I want an unsettling Mario-Boo meld monstrosity. It just feels right.

[zirkkun]

🤍ULR Speed Date Event Results - Part 4/5!🧡

Today, in second place, we have Duo with 53 submissions! The thing with Duo, however, is that he’s pretty much alright with a date with pretty much anyone -- and he’d probably go on a date with all the people who submitted things... so, rather, the person I picked was more just whose results would best fit a story for the scenario I had planned in my head.

Which, of course, you can read who won a date with Duo by clicking read more or on AO3!

🖤--✨--❤️

Undertale (c) Toby Fox Underlust by @/nsfwshamecave Underlust Reimagine by myself

Thank you for your support, but do remember to support and read Underlust (18+) if you can!

ulr masterpost || ulr main tag || ulr ask box || ulr comic beginning || kofi?

... the anon going by the name Cherry!

🤍🧡🤍🧡🤍🧡🤍🧡

The moment the proposition of cooking at home was offered as a date, Papyrus was completely sold. He barely gets a chance to practice cooking nowadays, but it's a skill anyone looking for a datemate should have!! After all, is food not the window to someone's SOUL? Or, maybe it was the way to win them over. Papyrus was starting to get his cheesy romantic sayings mixed up now -- ugh, probably because he was never given the chance to use them!!

Well, that didn't really matter anymore, anyway. He was living seperate from Sans on the Surface, so he could do anything he wanted without being watched over like a hawk. Sometimes he did feel bad about the fact he didn't even so much as consider living with his brother when given the chance to move out, given everything he did for Papyrus… but, it's not like he cut ties with him entirely. Papyrus just wanted somewhere where he could fend and decide for himself.

And now, because of that, he finally got a date!! He'd been waiting YEARS for something like this to happen, but every time he tried to go on one previously -- even when he tried to do it in secret -- Sans would find out and force him to cut ties immediately. But now it didn't matter! Now he didn't know, and didn't need to! And Papyrus was so happy!!

The human who'd come by his apartment for dinner this evening -- which they were cooking together, by the way, for it to be extra cutesy and romantic (declared as such by Papyrus) -- was, as far as he was concerned, very pretty. He'd been convinced she'd been on many dates before this because of that, but apparently she hadn't?! Which, as far as he was aware, was practically criminal in itself. So, might as well change that!! Besides, a stay-at-home cooking date was too fun of an idea to pass up.

And, of course, what better date food dish is there than pasta?! Specifically farfalle (you know, the little bowties!!) with chicken alfredo. Which was Papyrus's favorite dish. Like, absolute favorite. Nothing could beat it. And the human said she can eat anything, so she'll love it too!

Currently, she was helping him by boiling the water for the pasta, while Papyrus was cooking the chicken cutlets. The apartment's kitchen was already filled with an apetizing aroma, even though they hadn't been cooking for that long yet.

"It's been a while since I've done something like this with someone else," the human commented with a smile.

"I THINK THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I'VE EVER COOKED A MEAL WITH SOMEONE ELSE!" Papyrus announced, though sounding more excited about the endeavor than anything else while sprinkling on seasonings for the chicken. The human was a little taken aback.

"You're joking, really?"

"I COULD NOT BE MORE SERIOUS!"

"Wow," the human gaped. "You're so open and kind to others that I would have never expected something like that!"

Papyrus didn't respond right away. He didn't really know what to respond with, frankly. "YOU REALLY THINK SO?"

"What? Of course! Why wouldn't I think that?" The human started opening a fresh box of bowtie pasta as the water started to fully come to a boil. "You're a great person! Don't you even declare that yourself?"

Taking this as an excuse to change the subject, Papyrus jumped in with, "O-OH, OF COURSE! I AM THE GREAT AND FABULOUS PAPYRUS, AFTER ALL." The human seemed satisfied upon hearing this as they started laughing while dumping the pasta noodles into the boiling water as carefully as she could. Papyrus returned to cooking his chicken in the meanwhile.

Papyrus was starting to become hyperaware of the fact he had no experience with dates whatsoever. He didn't really know what else to say from this point forward, especially not after that kind of… compliment? statement? conversation? He wasn't even sure how to address it at this point. Hm… well, any old topic might do, he supposed.

"I KNOW YOU ALREADY TOLD ME YOU LIKE TO COOK TOO, BUT WHAT OTHER TYPES OF THINGS DO YOU DO?" he asked.

The human set the empty box onto the counter before looking to him with a grin. "I like all kinds of art. Like drawing, painting, singing, playing the piano…"

"YOU KNOW HOW TO SING?!" Papyrus asked excitedly.

"W-Well, yeah, but --"

"COULD YOU SING ME SOMETHING?" But the moment he said that, he took it back and shook his head. "NO, NO, SINGING ON THE SPOT WOULD NOT BE GOOD. YOU HAVE NOT HAD PROPER WARM-UPS! AND THE UNEXPECTED REQUEST MEANS YOU WOULD NOT BE THOROGHLY PREPARED FOR THE PERFORMANCE! BUT WHENEVER YOU DO HAVE A TIME WHEN YOU ARE GOING TO SING, PLEASE INVITE ME!"

The human couldn't help but laugh. "I'll make sure you're the first to know," she responded, a bit of playfulness lining her tone. Even despite that, Papyrus still found himself a bit giddy at the thought of going to a performance for someone he knew, to go there to support them. It seemed a bit like a dream more than anything.

Without really thinking out a transition, Papyrus blurted, "DO YOU HAVE ANY DREAMS, HUMAN?"

Unsurprisingly, she wasn't really expecting the response, and after her initial shock disappated, she pondered the question for a while. "I…" But she stopped. "Well…" Still, no answer. "Hm. I… don't think so."

"YOU DON'T THINK SO?"

The human shook her head. "Not really, no. I prefer living more in the moment and just seeing what happens next, and going forward with what's been given to me, I guess?" She let out a soft hum. "I haven't really given it a whole lot of thought?" But even that sentence seemed uncertain. Even still, Papyrus seemed a bit disappointed to hear this answer. Then again, being now on the Surface without the Royal Guard, on a date, no longer living with his brother… all of his dreams he'd been working to achieve were, well, achieved.

He wasn't wholly certain on whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

But, what he did know for sure, is that he's felt happier than he has in years.

[willow-salix]

Why hello there

Is there anything you would recommend a babi witch like myself studying that has been missed from my list :>

Mah list (so far):

○ Witch vs Pagan vs Wicca

○ Types of witches

○ Grey witch

○ Black witch

○ Crystals + Properties

○ Sacred geometry

○ Pentacle + Pentagram

○ Sigils

○ Protection

○ Moon phases

○ Sabbats

○ Types of salts

○ Respecting nature

○ Graveyard etiquette

○ Spirit guides

○ Divination (runes, Tarot, Coins, etc)

○ Casting a circle

○ Candle magick

○ Colour magick

○ Closed practice appropriation

○ Herbs

○ Astrology

○ Tree of life

○ Auras

○ The five clairs

○ Energy/visualisation magick

○ History of starseeds

○ Astral projection

○ Methods of meditation

○ Grounding

○ Plant magick

Ooh OK! Here goes.

First and foremost, as a witch of twenty plus years, the most important thing I can tell you is to be yourself. If this is a belief system and way of life that you want for life it has to fit in with you and your personality.

Forget everything you see on Instagram, tictok or Pinterest, it's not about the aesthetic, it's about you.

There is no room for witch shaming on my blog.

And by that I mean that EVERYONE works in different ways, at a different pace and to different levels. Never compare yourself to anyone else or how they work. Never think that you aren't doing enough or that you aren't progressing enough.

You are on your own path and that is the right one for you, so you do it your own way. You want to stop and smell the flowers? Do it. You want to dip your feet in that stream? Go for it! You want to stop and rest for a bit? Best idea ever!

You should never feel pressured to do anything that you aren't ready for or aren't comfortable with. That includes such things as blood magic, working with deity you don't feel a connection with, working skyclad, doing any kind of sexual magic or anything that makes you feel off about it. It's YOUR craft.

Be kind to yourself, don't have expectations and don't ever think you aren't good enough or worthy.

This includes making your craft unique to you. Visualisation is one of the witches most poweful tools, the magic doesn't come from the expensive athame, insence or candles, its in the heart of the witch. The power comes from you. And visualisation is your key to that but so is choosing how to make it work for you.

Take me for example, I'm this loveable thundernerd witch, so that reflects in my craft.

In circle (mediumship development) we did a meditation and I was directed to the beach. So what beach did I go to...

"There's a lovely beach, I can feel the salt water on my skin, I can smell the salt in the air, there's a light breeze that's rustling the leaves on the palm trees all around me and in the distance I can hear the faint sound of someone playing the piano."

Hell yeah I was there. That's my happy place!

I need to ascend to a higher level of consciousness? Am I taking that golden winding staircase or am I calling John for the space elevator? What do you think I'm gonna choose?

I need to go lower, below the earth to go into trance? Hell I'm taking Alan's seat down.

Make it work for you.

Working with charms, that's a very important thing for me. I have lucky charms, trinkets and things everywhere. And they don't have to be pagan. I put a spell on my car to keep me safe and the car safe. Then I charged up a little TAG John and Virgil, they live in my car, Virgil is my co-pilot John is my navigator. They help me feel calm and safe.

Energy weaving is a big thing, I always do it that any energy I raise for something that doesn't already have a predetermined purpose, say for example it's full moon and I'm bouncing around outside, everything I raise I direct out to the earth as healing. I'll raise my arms to the heavens and say : I send this energy out to anyone or anything that needs it right now, I send my love and healing into the wind and trust that it will be taken to where it can do the mslt good.

Talking to other witches about how they do things and how they work is sooooo important. That's why I'm not in a tradition ( alexandrian, gardnerian etc) because I don't like having just one way to do things. That doesn't work for most people, they just won't admit it.

Trying different things to find a way that works for you is so much nicer and healthier than struggling to work the one way that you've been taught. So read, a lot, watch a lot of reputable youtubers (I recommend Tylluan Penry, she's amazing, a grandmother witch and a good friend of mine) and make your own choices. And remember that nothing is set in stone, we are ever evolving and every changing, if you feel the urge to try something new and work a different way, do it. You don't have to stick with it.

An astral altar, sooo important but something I don't see many people talking about. An astral altar is something you build in meditation.

You have your happy place, somewhere you feel safe and calm and protected (Tracy Island and the beach for me or my Nan and Grandads house as I remember it before they passed away) but it could be anywhere, a woodland, a house, a stream, a playground you used to love. Anything or anywhere.

Here you find a nice place that you like and you dream up /visualise your altar base, like a nice table, a tree stump, and rock, anything. And here you place all the items you might need, all the things you've dreamed about that you can't afford or the things you have in real life. And you place them all there. You keep that space, you charge it up, you spend time there and then, any time you are away form home or can't get to your altar in the real world for any reason, you have somewhere to go, somewhere to work and some where to commune.

Tools, I didn't see that on the list but might have missed it.

Anything can be a tool. That's the biggest lesson of all. Our pagan ancestors would have used whatever they had to hand, no tools were single use or bought for the purpose of their craft. A cauldron was cooked in all week, a knife is used to chop everything and then used to direct energy.

These days we have the resources (and don't have to hide) to be able to have specific tools that we use only for our craft, but they don't have to be expensive. Go to a thrift store or buy cheap on eBay, a letter opener is an athame, a single wine glass can be a chalice, a pretty bowl is your offering bowl, a single plate is an offering plate, mismatched candle stick holders. All valid and will work just as well. The tools are a focus, they are NOT the source of our power.

Another tip, make witchcraft part of your every day life. Make it as natural and normal as everything else you do. It's part of your life and should be treated as such.

Making coffee in the morning? Set your intentions for the day and focus on it as you make it. You want to draw positivity? Stir doesil (clockwise) that's attracting. Want to rid yourself of the bad mood you had yesterday? Stir widdershins (counterclockwise) that's banishing. Not got anything? Stir a pentagram and call it good.

Sigils, doodle them everywhere (if you want a quick lesson on how to draw them and make up your own, let me know). Charm the shit out of everything.

Whisper a food blessing before you make food or eat. Bring that abundance in.

Trail your fingers along a wall or bushes to feel the energy as you walk.

Everything is magical to a witch.

Read mythology stories, it helps us learn and helps us connect to the stories of our pantheons and deity.

And heres the biggest thing I can tell you. Don't worry about getting things wrong. It's how we learn and honestly there is no such thing as wrong as long as your intentions are right.

Wording of spells doesn't matter, the intention and feeling behind them does.

You can do a cleansing by saying : Blessed spirit, Father God, mother goddess, I ask that you bless this house/tool /space and help drive out any negativity. Spirits that reside, if you're good you may stay, if you wish me halm, then please leave.

Nothing wrong with that.

Or you do a me: Mother Goddess, Father God, I'm back. Help me out here please, I need to cleanse this shit. Yo, spirits, good guys, ya chill, bad shit, get the fuck out! I'm the witch I'm in charge, do as you're told *claps hands all over the place and follows up with a cloud of vape smokes because my intention is in my breath and I'm blowing that negativity away*

And last but not least. I'm sure you've heard "Ever mind the rule of three, what you send out comes back to thee" That's very true, try to only send out good if you can. But you're human and it won't always happen, you'll have bad thoughts and negative emotions, that's normal and fine. Just don't do it with nastiness in your heart.

"and if it harms none, do what you will."

There's a line here most people don't know... "do no harm. But take no shit."

Because the one person most witches forget to look out for is themselves. Being good, doing good and being positive is great, but not at the expense of yourself. If it harms you, don't do it.

Love and light, and bright blessings to you. X

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XVI. La vereda de la puerta de atrás

A/N: Finally we know what happened to Harry! I’m excited for you guys to read this, let me know what you think :)

INDIE’S POV

I can barely make it to my room. It surprises me how many tears we can make without drying ourselves. I started crying the second I got away from Harry’s house and I cried all the way to my house in the taxi and still I’m not done.

I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why in the world I thought it would be okay if I just talked about that but the fact that Harry’s friend collaborated on the association and the way he said “it was their son, right?”

It wasn’t just their son. It was Dylan and Dylan was everything. Dylan made me play piano every day, Dylan would come over to my house just to see me for 5 minutes even if he lived 40 minutes away, Dylan showed me the best sunset I have yet seen. And Dylan was also a musician and he was a friend and, yes, he was a son, and a boyfriend and a grandson.

He was my first love and I swore he would be the last because there’s just no other way. He was half of me, it’s as simple as that. We were connected and we still are and we will always be because that’s just what it is when you find the one. I know most people don’t even find them, most people search their entire lives to find what I had with Dylan and still never find it so I should be thankful because it’s better to have loved and lost than to haven’t loved at all; but it’s just so hard…

I lie on my side on my bed and let the tears soak my pillow. I can’t push the memories away now. I opened the dam and now everything is coming out and choking me. I remember my Mum knocking on my bedroom door, the way she looked, I’ll always remember the way she looked. And my screams, tearing my throat up, and her small arms trying to hold me as I yelled and fought. I remember the sirens and then the hospital and Dylan’s mother’s face and how my hands trembled.

I don’t even know how in the midst of all the horror I’ve fallen asleep but the vibration of my phone against the mattress wakes me up. I bring it to my ear without checking the caller ID.

“Indie, thank God!” Harry’s loud voice pierces my ear.

“What is it?” My voice is hoarse after the sleep and the crying.

“What happened?” He asked. “The doorman told me you were crying. It’s the first time he tells me something like that.”

“Well it must have shocked him, I’m sure the rest of Med students that leave your apartment leave with a big smile and freshly fucked.” I regret my words as soon as I say them. “Sorry, that is none of my business.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“What happened, Indie? Were you crying for something I said or didn’t say or-”

“No” I cut him off before he keeps messing up “it has nothing to do with you. It’s just… I cry every time I talk about him. I don’t like talking about what happened.”

Harry sighs.

“Yeah, I understand…” He doesn’t. “It’s the same for me…”

“What?”

“Listen, baby, I gotta go but… Uh… I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

Tomorrow night? He’s crazy.

“I can’t.” I lie.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, baby…”

“I have plans.”

He sighs.

“Indie, I-”

“It’s true.” I lie. “I’m not like you, I do have a life.”

“Wow.”

My eyes fill with tears again. I am a horrible person. I don’t even know why I said that to him but I can’t even speak now, my throat is completely closed. How could I throw that in his face after what he told me? I deserve all the bad things that could happen to me.

“Call me when you’re not mad anymore so we can talk.”

He hangs up. The distress hits me harder, it wraps around my chest and presses down and I feel like it’s going to collapse but I don’t even care if I stopped breathing.

Whenever I think of him, it’s like it’s happening all over again, like I never did all that progress, like I never went to therapy or like it’s the first time this is hitting me. But it’s not; and I know what I have to do. I can’t be alone or I would go down the same old dark road again and I don’t want that. I can’t endure that same old story.

Jason appears on my door not half an hour later. This reminds me so much of those months too but somehow instead of a trigger is comforting because he was there for me then and he’s here for me now and he’ll be here if I need him tomorrow and his hug always feels like the world can’t touch me if his arms are around me. I start crying again.

It's not as catastrophic as it was before but the quietness only makes it even harder. My heart is breaking all over again and now it’s doing it silently. Frustration is added to the pain because I don’t want to stay always stuck here. I want to move on and be able to talk about Dylan without wanting to die myself and instead here I am, on a cocoon on Jason’s arms as I silently cry on the couch.

I tilt my neck when I wake up for the third time today and find Jason with a deep frown and lips on a thin line. I look away from him and pout like a little girl. Of course he’s still mad at me. This doesn’t change what I said to him.

“How did he find out?” He asks instead. “Did you tell him?”

I nod and feel his hand on the low of my back as he shifts closer to me.

“A friend of his collaborates with Dylan’s organisation and… He asked about him.”

“Harry did?”

“No, his friend. Harry didn’t know anything until this morning…”

Jason hums. His hand keeps drawing figures on my back so I dare to look at him again.

“Are you still mad at me?” I whisper as if I was afraid he would hear me and then say yes.

His eyes bore into mine.

“Do you really want to talk about this now?”

“So yes.” I look ahead but from the corner of my eye I can still feel his eyes fixed on me. “You can leave if you want.”

“I also didn’t have to come if I didn’t want to.” He points out. “But I still came because I love you.” He sighs. “Listen, I wish you would keep your opinion about my relationship to yourself but I talked to Marie and I know where you’re coming from. I know you mean well, Indie, and that you’re just worried about me but I respect you and the only thing I ask is for you to do the same.”

Oh, God, I don’t want to cry again.

“You’re right, J. I’m a terrible person and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you or disrespect you. I love you so much.” The tears win the battle as they roll down my cheeks. “You’re… You’re still one of the few people that actually put up with me and… I know I’m… Not making it easy for anyone but” I sob “I really do need you all. I feel so alone, J.”

His muscled arms wrap around me as he pulls me to him.

“You’re not alone, Indie.” His voice cracks. “You’ve got us, we’ll always be here for you, and you’ve got your family. You’ll never be alone, Indie-pixie. And about me putting up with you, I never want to hear you say that bullshit again, do you hear me? I’m fucking lucky to have you. Anyone who has you in their life is.” He presses a kiss on my hair line. “You take care of me and I know no matter what I can always count on you and I fucking love you, okay? We all do.”

“I love you too.”

“Good.” He puff a laugh. “Now let’s go eat something, I’m starving.”

I’m not but I go with him to my kitchen and watch him cook pasta for the two of us. If Dylan was here he’d force me to eat. He always did that but I always dismissed him. I’ve never had any eating problem, it’s just that Dylan thought I ate so little because he ate like some hungry lion all the time and for some reason he thought I should eat like him. He loved my mum’s cooking.

I remember back in Capitol in my house, which now is my dad’s house, we had this huge kitchen with huge glass windows that looked at my mum’s garden and I remember right before we started dating we would do our homework on the kitchen while she cooked and Dylan would be the taster of everything.

I imagine I would try to cook Spanish food for him now. He would like that I took up cooking, that’s for sure, and I’m sure he’d like everything I made too. But I’ll never know because he’s gone and he’ll never come back.

It was so hard to be in that kitchen or in that dining room or even in my room. I can barely sleep there. Everything at Capitol reminds me of him and that’s why it’s just so hard to visit my dad.

Jason sets a plate of pasta in front of me and I grab the fork even if I couldn’t eat if I tried.

“What did you guys do last night?” I try to divert my thoughts from Dylan to literally anywhere else.

“We had dinner at my place and then we went to Loft 39.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes, but it would have been better with you.”

I smile even though I doubt it.

“How’s Ollie?”

“Lost.” Jason shrugs. “She told me what she did to Mario and you’re right, it is nasty.”

“I talked to him last night, he was at Elvis Buchanan’s birthday and I think he’s falling for her…”

“Who the hell is Elvis Buchanan?” He frowns and I chuckle.

“He’s a guy.” I shrug. “He’s nice.”

His eyes look up from his plate to mine.

“How are things with Harry?”

I shrug. Well, the other night he cried on my bed and last night he told me to get my own blanket if I was cold but after that we spooned and he ate me out this morning. So I have no idea.

“What do you think?” I ask him instead “You know, about Harry and me?”

“What’s there to think?”

I shrug.

“I don’t know… I mean… Do you think he’s using me?”

“Do you?”

I shrug.

“Where is this coming from, Indie?”

“It’s just… This morning he talked to this friend and when he asked him who I was he said I was a Med student.”

Jason’s eyes narrow.

“And you are.”

“Yes, but… Is that what I am to him? A Med student?”

“Well, what is he to you?”

I’m struck dumb.

“A friend.” I tell him.

He nods.

“Well, I’m guessing he was just trying to establish you, I guess. I mean what else could he say? It’s how you met after all.”

I don’t want to keep talking about it, especially having Dylan’s smile on my mind so I look away from him and nibble some on my past at the risk of throwing up.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asks.

I guess that’s a way of taking my mind off. We play Failure to Launch but I fall asleep soon after Sarah Jessica Parker shows up. Grieving is really exhausting.

“Indie”

Warm hands lightly shake my arms and I blink.

“Dylan?”

“No, it’s Jason.”

I rub my eyes and see Jason looking at me with sorrowful eyes.

I feel my heart crashing on my chest. I haven’t seen a single photo of Dylan since his funeral. I can’t. But it’s heart-breaking to realize how hard it is for me to remember his face now. I know the colour of his eyes, and I can fantasize about his smile but if I close my eyes and try to see his entire face, I just… It’s not like a picture.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Jason walks me to bed and lies down next to me before he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him.

Had I been with Harry, he wouldn’t have woken me up to take me to bed. Instead, he would have picked me up like a kid and take me to bed himself. I don’t know why I just thought about that.

Jason’s fast asleep but I lie wide awake on the mattress. Of course I would do that, I’d fall asleep at any random moment and then stay up for the rest of the night. As much as I try to fall asleep it’s impossible and I wonder if this is how Harry feels when he can’t sleep too. No wonder he was harsh to me, this is terrible.

I haven’t gotten anything from him all day after our talk on the phone. Not that it surprises me after what I told him, but I still wonder how he’s doing. I wish I could talk to my therapist right now. Well, I don’t, because I know what she’s going to say and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to fight her again, but I guess I want to know what I’m thinking and I know it sounds silly to say that but I need help figuring that out.

I remember when Dylan passed away I had this feeling in my chest and my belly and I thought I had asthma but it was none of that, it was just anguish and the thing was I couldn’t put my finger on it to the point where I just thought I was sick on my lungs and not on my mind. Even after therapy though, sometimes it’s hard for me to kind of know what I’m feeling.

I need to get out of bed. I’m driving myself crazy and, since Harry’s not around, the only other thing that manages to take my mind off, is downstairs so I try not to wake Jason up as I make my way to the reading room. When I slide the door opened, I entertain my eyes with the moonlight hitting the piano and without thinking, I sit on the stool and lift up the black lid so the keys are exposed to me.

I run my fingers through them, I haven’t played in three years. I’m not even sure I’m going to remember how to play but my fingers seem to remember Beethoven’s Moonlight sonata even before my mind does.

I’m not me anymore, I’m a part of a bigger thing, I’m a part of what’s playing and it surprises me to realize before I met Harry, I had resigned from feeling this way, from not thinking and just being but after I met Harry or since I know Harry, this is how he makes me feel. He makes me feel like music does.

It scares me because I know everything would be less painful if he was here now, if he was sitting down on one of the reading chairs listening to my sonata before he stood up and took me bare. But he is not and he won’t be here because it’s just sex between us.

I look ahead when I finish the piece and find a flabbergasted Jason staring at me with his lips parted. I look down, embarrassed.

“That was beautiful, Indie.”

“It wasn’t.” I complain. “It was sad.”

“It was sad and beautiful.”

I don’t understand how something can be sad and beautiful but I’ll let it go. I know Jason’s tired and I should try to get some sleep too.

“That was the first time I played since Dylan died.” I say. “Do you think I’m betraying him?”

Jason’s eyes hold mine for the longest minute. I don’t expect what he says.

“He’d like him.”

HARRY’S POV

It’s been a chill Monday. I’ve only had two surgeries and two hours of office so I’ve been able to work on my patients’ record a lot but it’s been hard to focus.

Family weekends always drain me, especially when it’s not my plan so I didn’t have time to prepare, not that I prepare very well anyway and to make things worse, Indie hasn’t contacted me yet.

I know I should give her time and space and all that shit but I’m tired of this back and forth with her. I don’t even know why but I have this need to make sure she’s okay and I just don’t want her to be in pain. It’s as simple as that. And knowing she’s gone through that… I guess it just explains a lot of things.

And I know I don’t deserve her, I don’t deserve any of this but… I’m starting to think maybe I don’t have to… Be alone all the time. She doesn’t want anything other than the physical relationship we have from me and that’s good, that’s safe; but it doesn’t mean I don’t worry about her. I never thought someone like her was going to show up and just change everything but for the first time since it happened, I actually want to tell somebody about it. I want to tell her. Yet I don’t know how… Because for all I know she might just storm out of the room- the girl has a temper- or tell me she’s not an ONG or something like that but… I just think if I can get her understanding I might forgive myself and I’m starting to think she might need me too.

Harry: Are you at uni?

I know she is because she was driving herself crazy when she had to miss lectures because she was sick so I don’t think she’d skip a lecture for any other reason. I think it’s cute that she’s such a psycho. She gives me a hard time over the amount of hours I work but I’m pretty sure I won’t see her face at all during finals.  

Indie: Yes.

Harry: At the lectures hall?

Indie: Yes

Indie: What do you want?

Harry: I’m picking you up

Indie: What?

Indie: No!

Harry: Why not?

Indie: I’m going shopping with Marie.

Harry: Well, go some other day.

Indie: No, I’ll see you some other day.

Harry: Please, love.

Indie: I said no but don’t worry I’m sure you can find some other Med student to fuck.

I hate it when she says that. It’s none of her business like she keeps saying but she really does get on my nerves when she acts like that. The only reason I was seeing other people is because she said we were “just sex”.

Anyway, I’m picking her up. I’ll drive her and Marie to the shops if that’s what I need to do to be able to talk to her. She can’t just act as if she cared and then shut me out and push me away whenever she feels like it.

I am leaning against the bars where the students lock their bikes when I see her walking out of the lectures hall holding a folder against her chest. She frowns and pouts like a mad little girl when she spots me and I know it shouldn’t be funny to me but I just think it’s so cute that her face is so giving. She stops in front of me and doesn’t stop frowning but I’m grinning at her. She’s hilarious.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You gave me no other choice.” I shrug.

“Yes, you could have waited for tomorrow.” She whispers through clenched teeth.

“You would have given me another excuse.” We both know that.

“Why are you smiling? Do you think this is funny?”

“Sort of.” I admit. “I mean, I’m not fully sure why you’re mad.”

“Anyone could see you here.” She looks at both her flanks.

“Indie, I work here. It’s not strange for anyone to see me here.”

“Yes, but talking to me?”

Her words sting but I don’t let her see that.

“I told you I can’t meet you today.”

“Yes, because you were going shopping with Marie who is nowhere to be found.”

“We’re meeting at the shops.”

“Okay, well, I’ll drive you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I just want to talk.”

She studies my face. Her hair is tied up on a long braid that falls on her back but some thin locks have fallen out of it and dance over her face. I want to tuck them behind her ear but I don’t. I need to stop doing that sort of things. She sighes, she’s going to say yes.

“Okay.”

I smile and walk towards my car and she adjust her bag on her shoulder before she starts walking next to me. She is texting someone and my hands seem to have a mind of their own because they hold her waist as we walk down the kerb towards the parking lot, afraid that she might not see it and stumble. Her body tenses up, she’s just as surprised as I am.

The drive is silence because she’s still texting whoever it is she’s talking to and I take the time to arrange my thoughts. I’ve never actually told anyone about this. Those who know know because they’re a part of the story one way or another but I’ve never sat in front of a third person and told them about the accident.

When I pull over at the shops parking lot, Indie unfastens her seat belt but waits for me to say something. She’s nervous and she’s probably uncomfortable too but I don’t want to do this here.

“Should we have a cup of coffee?” I offer.

She weighs her options. I don’t think she knows I’d do whatever she asks me to but she nods. I wait for her in order to walk side by side to the nearest café we can find and I dare to place a hand on her lower back as I gently guide her to one of the tables. She’s scolded me before about me not touching her in public and even though she just fought me for showing up at the lectures hall, I think she doesn’t mind the contact when we’re not in the hospital.

We take a seat on one of the tables near the far window. Through the window we can see the road, there’s a narrow pavement between the café and the road, but not many people pass by. It’s too cold for walks already so all we see is cars driving by. When a person walks by though, I see the fog coming out of their mouths as they breathe. It makes our spot cosier since warmth is not something you can see, but; likewise everything, it’s something you can feel better when you’re face to face with its absence.

Indie looks incredible, as usual. I love how pink looks on her and how cosy she looks on her winter clothes. Her hazel eyes bore into mine like she was a deer and I was the spotlight and I don’t know why all of a sudden she’s giving me that look. That’s the look she gives me on the bedroom too.

“How are you?” I start.

“Good.” She shakes.

Am I making her this nervous? I’m the one who’s nervous… Maybe I’m passing it on her. But she just looks so good and soft and fragile… I don’t want to say something that would somehow hurt her. I feel my heart beating fast and hard against my ribs. I’ve never been more afraid of anything on my life but I don’t want her to blame me and I’m afraid she will.

“Are you nervous?”

“No” she shakes her head “I’m just cold.”

“Do you want my jacket?”

I start taking it off before she can answer but she stops me by lifting her hands in the air.

“No, I’ve got my own coat. You’ll freeze.”

“I’m not cold, baby.”

I lend her my jacket and she covers her shoulders with it before she tucks her hands between her thighs trying to warm up. I order two cups of coffee and stare at her.

“You’re always cold.”

It’s true. She always shakes when she ends up alone in the bed because she moves around a lot and unlike me, her hands and her arms are always cold too. She nods and gives me a knowing smile.

“Are you still mad at me?”

She shakes her head. Good. I won’t ask why she was mad in case that makes her mad again. Plus, I’m about to tell her a very intimate part of me. I need her to be on my side.

“And sad?”

Her big eyes look down to the table. The waiter places our two cups on the table and her fingers break the wrapper of a sugar package before she adds some sugar to her coffee.

“I know you are, Indie.” She stirs the coffee. “And I understand.”

The repetitive movement of her hand stops and my heart follows suit when she looks up at me. I’ve never seen her like this before and I wish I could take her pain away but for the first time I don’t feel like she’s better than me. I don’t see her like this girl who takes care of everyone, drinks gin and doesn’t let you get too close. She’s vulnerable and she needs me too.

“I didn’t like that you dropped that bomb like that and just left as if we were strangers but that was not about me, I take it. And after the way you talked to me on the phone, I understood you didn’t want to see me or talk to me and I’ve respected that but-”

“Why did you say you understand?” Her eyes bore into mine and my breath catches on my throat. “You said that that day and you’ve said that now.”

I take a deep breath. Here we go…

“My sister had a car accident when she was twenty-two years old. I know it’s not the same, because she didn’t die, but… She almost did.” My voice croaks but the way she’s looking at me, with brown eyes wide opened and her full lips shut makes me go on. “Uh, she was in a coma for 5 days and… We didn’t know if she was… Going to make it. She did but… Uh… She can’t walk.”

Indie places her hand over mine and only then I realize I’m shaking. She intertwines our fingers and I stare at out hands. Her skin is so much tanner than mine and so much softer too.

“I’m very sorry, Harry.”

How can she be sorry? Her boyfriend died on a car accident. This is not the same… Yet it’s still hard.

“She was pregnant.”

Indie’s eyes sadden further and her grip on my hand tightens. I can’t tell her.

“The baby died on her womb and it teared in the accident so they had to remove it in surgery so… Uh, she can’t carry babies now.”

“Shit.”

“I didn’t help her or anyone at all. I just… I couldn’t. Even now I can’t even look at her without feeling so terrible.” I confess. “And I know she doesn’t want that, she doesn’t need that; but I just… Can’t overcome that, I guess. So… It’s always very hard for me to see her and that obviously has driven me away from my family.”

Indie nods. I guess she doesn’t know what to say to me.

“Is that why you started working so hard?” Her voice comes out in a thin whisper. “You told me you kind of buried yourself in work… Is that why? So that you wouldn’t think about it?”

I nod.

“I was eighteen when that happened and I think that’s the reason why I decided to become a doctor. My sister spent the entire summer in the hospital, you know, learning how to… Be, I guess and after I went to uni and… Everyone was like going out and having fun and meeting new people and falling in love but I just… Was not in that point in my life so I didn’t really make many friends, also because I wouldn’t let many people in and… Yeah, I guess I just started studying a lot and afterwards working a lot.”

“Do you not see your family at all anymore?”

“No, I do.” I nod. “I visit them every once in a while. They were here yesterday and the day before, that’s why I didn’t, uh, I don’t know contact you to try to comfort you even though I don’t think I would have been successful.”

I give her a sad smile that she reciprocates.  

“Is that why you can’t sleep?”

Kind of. I nod. I lick my lips before I bring my cup to my lips and take a sip.

“You didn’t have to tell me about this so thank you.” She gives me a sad smile.

“I wanted to.” I confess. “I wanted you to know that you’re not alone and that you can talk to me if you ever… I don’t know.” I smile at her.

“Thank you.” She has a sip of her coffee before she takes a deep breath. “I never really talk about it or him.” Her dark eyebrows lower on her forehead. “I… I… I don’t like how it makes me feel.”

I hold her hand and bring it to my mouth, kissing her skin as she stares at me with a surprised expression. I’m surprised too. I don’t know what I’m doing.

“You don’t have to.” I shrug, trying to dismiss how I just crossed the line. “I just want you to know that if you ever want to or need to, you can tell me.”

“Okay.” She smiles. “But I’m better now anyway.”

“Good.” I rub my hands together as I give her a smile. “Then what do you feel like doing now?”

She chuckles.

“Going shopping with Marie like I told you.”

Oh, so she wasn’t lying.

“Can I go with you and give you girls my opinion on the changing room?”

“Of course not.”

I click my tongue and make a grimace of disappointment that has her chuckling again.

“It was worth a shot.” She agrees making me laugh.

But now I can’t take the image of her perfect body trying on lingerie out of my head. I imagine the way the soft lace would rest on top of her skin because she always wears clothes that fit her perfectly without being tight and that always drives me mad. How easy it is to just slip her panties down her soft legs…

“Don’t go shopping, Indie.”

She frowns. This is insane, how she unwillingly and unknowingly controls my emotions giving me the mood swings of a pregnant woman. She’s driving me crazy for real.

“Don’t you want to show me the underwear you’re wearing now?”

Her eyes widen but don’t leave mine so I smile mischievously. I know her better than she’d like and I know she likes it when I talk dirty to her. It’s like everything we’ve talked about before this, as serious as it was, is not on our minds anymore. It’s hard to think of anything other than her when she’s right in front of me, giving me her attention like she is now, looking at me and listening to me and just being here. I want to be closer to her.

“Do you not want my mouth on you, baby?” I lick my lips and watch her cheeks tinging pink. “Do you want to know what I want?”

Her lips part but instead of answering she takes air in. I don’t need her to say yes for me to know she does want to. She always does.

“I want to put your perfect ass against my kitchen counter and eat you out like you deserve, love.”

Her juicy mouth parts and I feel my dick hardening. She’s so easy, she’s as horny as I am.

“And then I’d fuck you onto the counter until your ass goes numb. Look at you, you’re blushing.” I grin. “It never fails to surprise me how shy you seem to be out of bed and how dirty you are in it.”

“Maybe I’m the perfect example of a lady out and a slut in.”

If she had said that any other way, I would have played along but the way she lifted her chin and clenched her jaw gives her away.

“Indie, you’re not a slut.” She rolls her eyes. “Why? Because you like sex? That doesn’t make you a slut, baby, it makes you a human.”

My hand reaches for her braid and I twirl a finger around it before I grip it between my fingers and gently pull from it bringing her face closer to mine until our lips are inches away.

“I like it” I tell her “that you’re free and you know what you want, it’s fucking sexy, baby.”

I press my lips against hers before she can reprimand me for the PDA and I feel her breath against my mouth as she takes the kiss. It takes her a few seconds to reciprocate but I smile when she bites my bottom lip. I bet she’s shutting her thighs together but before I can check that with my own hand underneath the table, her phone rings and she pulls apart.

“Hi, Marie.” She gives me a death glare as she wipes my saliva from her lips. “I’m having a cup of coffee on” she tilts her neck searching for the name of the cafeteria “on Sionpa, it’s right next to the- oh, right, yeah, yeah, that’s the one but don’t” she all but yells “worry, I can, I’ll go out. There’s no need for you to come all the way here. See you in a second.”

The things she would say not to have her friends see me. I smile as she leaves a bill on the table.

“Here, I’ve got your coffee too.” She says.

“Thank you.”

Her eyes narrow. I know she was expecting a bit of resistance on my part but I know she doesn’t like it when I don’t let her pay so she won’t have it. I grin.

“Oh, Harry!”

Indie turns around and Adam grins at us.

INDIE’S POV

“Indie!” Adam’s face lightens up as he leans in to give me a light hug. “I hadn’t recognized you! It’s very nice to see you! How are you?”

This guy is so well-mannered and friendly. It even surprises me that he’s that close to Harry.

“Hi, Adam. I’m good, thank you, how are you?”

“Good. What a coincidence, hey?”

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Harry asks him.

He’s stood up from his chair and is now standing next to me with his hand on my low back.

“I need to get my mother a present. It’s not going well.” He smiles.

Harry chuckles.

“Just get her a book.”

“That’s like the least personal thing you could get her.” I complain.

“I don’t think so.” Harry argues back. “A scarf is less personal.”

“You are the king of presents.”  

Harry shrugs and Adam chuckles at our interaction.

“Is this what you were having?” Marie points at Harry with raised eyebrows and an annoyed expression.

Oh, shit.

“Marie!”

Adam laughs and my friend her eyes roam up and down his body. He grins at her. Alright, what is going on?

I look at Harry but he seems as lost as I am. He gives me a confused look as if he was waiting for me to solve this but I don’t know what we’re supposed to do either.

“Hi, I’m Adam. I’m a friend of Harry’s.”

“I’m Marie, a friend of Indie’s.”

Adam shakes Marie’s hand and I think everyone can see how she turned into the heart eyed emoji. Oh, Marie, don’t be so obvious… But he hasn’t taken his eyes off her either. She smiles nervously.

“Do you guys want to have a cuppa?”

“Well, we-”

“We’d love one.” Marie smiles.

“Sure.” Harry surprises me.

What are they doing?! I give Harry a death glare but he looks away so I focus on the other little devil.

“What was that? The shops are gonna close.”

“Well” she shrugs “the shops are there every other day.”

I stand there like a fool as Harry brings two more chairs to our table and takes a seat himself. Marie does the same and that’s when my head goes into a short-circuit. I would have never thought I would be having coffee with Harry at some random cafeteria, much less with Marie in what looks like a double date. Harry licks his lips inside his mouth amused and taps the empty chair next to him but I sit down next to Marie.

“Did you call him?” Marie asks me the second I sit down. She’s back. “Or did you follow her around?”

I feel my cheeks heating up but Harry grins as he looks at her.

“Second option.”

“And why do you do that?”

My eyes widen. Did timid Marie just ask that? She’s frowning at him as if she was a cop confronting a criminal and my breath catches on my throat. Harry looks at me before he looks back at my friend.

“Because I like her company.”

“Just because of that?” She challenges.

“Marie, dear Lord, shut it.”

“No” She frowns at me. “This is bad. She’s a lot younger than you, mister, and you’re her mentor, what if-”

“This is half the cuppas.” Adam says as he places a cup of tea before me and the other one before Marie. “I’ll be back with the rest.”

“What’s your game?” She resumes her accusations as soon as Adam walks away. “What do you want from her?”

“Marie, seriously, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Why? If you don’t ask the questions, somebody has to.”

“I’m not a-”

“I’m not playing with Indie.” Harry answers cutting my words short.

He’s studying Marie’s face with a stern expression. I wouldn’t be able to tell what’s going through his mind.

“I never have and what I want from her, she knows perfectly fine since the very first day.”

He doesn’t seem mad or annoyed at my friend’s rude behaviour but I’m beyond embarrassed. Thankfully, Adam arrives with his coffee and Harry’s and takes a seat next to his friend before another word can be spoken.

“Were you guys on a date?”

What is going on today? What sort of question is that? Harry chuckles and only then I realize he’s looking at me. My face must be a technicolour poem.

“No” I answer before Harry can embarrass me any further “we don’t go on dates.”

“I beg to differ.” Harry challenges with a smug smile.

I’m going to kill him. Adam and Marie look at each other trying to see if any of them know what’s going on but I mean neither do I.

“So how long for have you guys known each other?” He asks Marie.

Thank God, I need a break. Harry’s still smiling at me, he’s clearly loving this.

“Four years. We go to uni together.”

“Oh, so you study Medicine too?”

“Yes.” Marie nods.

“Oh, gosh, three nerds and me.” Adam jokes and my friend laughs.

“What did you study?” She asks. “If you studied at all.” She panics. “Because it’s fine if you didn’t. I mean you don’t have to, you know, it’s a valid choice not to and it’s also a valid choice to study. Please somebody stop me.”

Adam throws his head back and laugh and Harry fights against his smile but fails. Marie is adorable.

“I studied Journalism.”

“Oh.” Marie nods. “It sounds interesting.”

“Well” he shrugs “I’m currently working at this big cosmetics firm. I’m the crisis management responsible.” He nods. “I get all these free products that I don’t even know how to use.”

I chuckle. He’s great, what a subtle way of letting my friend know he doesn’t have a girlfriend. I almost bow at him.

“Really?” Marie chuckles. “That’s so cool!”

He chuckles and frowns.

“I mean, you can have them even though you don’t need them.”

I try to control my chuckle because he’s not laughing but I catch Harry rolling his eyes from the corner of mine. He then looks at me and smiles. My phone screen lightens up and Harry’s eyes drop on it too. He’s the nosiest person I’ve ever met. It’s an Instagram notificacion.

@gemmastyles liked your picture.

[nad-zeta]

Match up! (~˘▾˘)~

 Hi again…can I get an Ikevamp match-up? I got curious on who I would end up with tbh😅😅😅

About myself…I never lose a temper, I am extremely shy and quiet, it’s extremely difficult for me to trust new people. I am around 5'9 feet tall, above shoulder length messy brown hair tied into a ponytail; I would be mistaken for a boy if I let my hair down. I wouldn’t even notice if they mistook me for a boy until someone addresses me as one😅😅😅. I look intimidating at first sight because 1.)I am silent most of the time, I look cold and aloof, I never smile, and 2.) I can be blunt without noticing + my difficulty of showing emotions would make them think I’m judging their soul *yikes…whoops?😅😅😅*. That intimidates most people and when in reality when I am the one who feels more intimidated by them. 😅😅

Once I warm up, I have this side that only my family and close friends know. I get along well with anybody; I won’t judge people for their race, beliefs, personality, religion, and all. It doesn’t exist here when I befriend them 😊. I have this weird sense of humor that can turn dark and morbid without noticing… 😅😅 I am like a child at Christmas when it comes to new art supplies, baking, and cooking new recipes; I love sharing it with my family and friends. I can compare my strength to a guy and I can carry heavy things without a problem😅… I love to play the guitar and I used to play the piano when I was younger and I missed playing it. I’m extremely rusty after not practicing for 7 years now😥. I can still read music notes, and it will take longer for me to navigate the piano if I play it. I mostly draw and paint right now tho…

I’m not a fan of wearing girly clothes, and I would rather stick to wearing good ol’ shirts, polo (long/short sleeves), pants, and hoodies style. I avoid drinking alcohol because I easily get tipsy; I’d turn into a loud drunk after a few sips.  My friends would often keep me away from who knows what they’re reading and watching stuff… Told me that they don’t want me to taint my innocent eyes and soul or something like that…I never cuss even if I’m used to hearing my classmates swear like a sailor. The first time my friends hear me accidentally swear, they look at me in horror and demanded me to know where I got that word🤣🤣

I don’t like loud and crowded places, I would feel dizzy and suffocated if I stayed there for too long. There will be times on where I’m nowhere to be found since I would look for an isolated place somewhere around the corner for me to hide whenever I want to draw or paint. I am not really confident of my skills in drawing; I have a bad habit of hiding those from my family *which annoys them*. I have another bad habit of being stubborn whenever I got sick, and I wouldn’t even let anyone know I am unwell because I do not want anyone to worry about me. But when someone noticed, I would admit that I am sick. *I would go to school even when sick so I can finish my school works because, whenever I miss a class, there will always be some of them who would deliberately not tell me that I missed something in class so…i learned the hard way.😅* …

I easily get startled by sudden noises if I let my guard down: objects making a loud sound when they drop. I don’t know how to deal with physical affections and would probably get stiff and flustered. I’m not used to guys hugging me cuz would go stiff whenever a guy hugs me *I love hugs and all but… I’m not used to being hugged by guys… 🙁* I’m a bit of a disaster-prone whenever I’m outside, and would accidentally hit my head on lower tree branches and lower places, sometimes I would accidentally sprain my ankle on the uneven ground *if someone made me wear heels especially if it’s stilettos*. 😅😅😅

Yay: I love my coffee with a ridiculous amount of milk and with less sugar; baking, cooking, sweets, drawing, painting, digital art, music, cats, dogs, pokemon, Manga, anime.

Nay: I despise certain types of vegetables that are bitter and slimy. My face would shrivel up seeing those kinds of vegetables. Animal cruelty is a big no-no for me; I normally don’t get angry, and I forgive people within a blink of an eye *that annoys my family a lot😅* but, I will make an exception for that.

I can control my own anger, that no one can tell I am fuming.

If it’s ok with you…😅😅😅 Took me a long time to figure out how to send a more detailed one. 😂😂 I think that’s enough spilling tmi about myself… Whoopsie…😅😅 🦊🐱🦊🐱

Hi hi love! ❤🌻Thank you so much for the request! I had so much fun writing this up for ya and i hope you enjoy it dear! ❤���Also i hope you are keeping safe and well and have a super good day!🐇❤ Also sooooorrrry for taking 2 billion years with this! hehe so without further ado........... @xarexraven

So I match you with…………… Theo

The first time you met everyone, you were so quiet and reserved hiding behind Comte. They took one look at you and instantly thought, “oooh great another male guest.” You were wearing a hoodie and jeans and your hair tie keeping your hair in a ponytail, had just snapped as you walked through the door. Comte gave you a gentle push to introduce yourself, and one look at your intimidating face, had the entire household believing that they had another tsundere in their midst. 

During dinner, you had hardly noticed that they all thought you were a boy. The residents all started retiring to their rooms after dessert, when Sebastian handed you a final cup of coffee, “Here you are sir.” Your eyes widened, and you started up at Sebastian in confusion, too shy to correct him/ That is when Comte who was still sitting beside you gave your head a gentle pat, “Sebastian it is quite rude to mistake our precious guest for a boy, especially one who is beautiful.” Both you and Sebastian were left blushing at the comment, that’s when Vincent, who was the only other resident still at the table, spoke up. “I have to agree with Comte, it is not nice to call someone so pretty, a boy.” The resident angel beamed up at you, while Sebastian apologised profusely, and through it all, the only thing you could think was, “man, this is awkward.”

The next morning after Comte explained the whole, everyone in this mansion is a vampire thing, you wandered around the mansion aimlessly. Well, that is until Napoleon came across you and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dining room, where a feast of sugary goodness laid wait. He told you that he had made way too many pancakes and that they needed help finishing them. No one in the mansion had seen you smile yet, but at the sight of the giant stack of sugary pancakes, you couldn’t help but beam. Vincent had spotted you and flagged you over to sit next to him. “Oi knaap, don’t go hog all the pancakes, save some of the rest of us will you,” Theo loudly exclaimed as you loaded up your plate to a stack of pancakes almost as high and his. At the sound of Theo calling you a boy, Vincent narrowed his eyes at Theo and started scolding his younger brother for being so rude. Theo stared at you in disbelief but with your hair now in a pony tail he simply shrugged and gave you a new nickname “Hondjie”. With the misunderstanding finally cleared up once and for all, you made quick work of polishing off the stack of pancakes with the three men.

After lunch Vincent gave Theo a detailed list of art supplies that he needed, and at the mention of art supplies your ears perked up. Your eyes gleamed in excitement, and your cold, aloof exterior changed to one of an excited child on Christmas morning. Your cheeks were starting to hurt, that had been a record of two smiles in one day. Although even though your smiling felt weird to you, to the three me it was the most beautiful sight. Theo took notice of your enthusiasm and in his typical indifferent voice, asked if you wanted to come along for the ride. You without a second thought nodded, you basically radiated excitement as you went upstairs to put on some shoes and get a jacket. You met Theo out in the foyer, and soon the two of you made your way to the art supply store. 

Comte had told you that you were free to break the bank and buy anything and everything your heart desired, on the condition that he would be able to see your first piece of art created with the new supplies. 

You were so excited at the thought of new art supplies and being able to continue your passion for art, even though you were stuck in the past, that you let your guard down a little with Theo. He asked you in his usual blunt way, why you were dressed like a boy and not wearing skirts and dresses like other women. You told him that you were most comfortable wearing pants and hoodies. The way your eyes were beaming, low key reminded him of his precious brother, and he found himself low key drawn to your pure, innocent energy. 

The two of you spent hours and hours picking out the perfect supplies, you were low key shook at Theo’s knowledge about art and supplies. He actually helped you pick out the best supplies for your personal drawing and painting style. After spending hours in the art shop. The two of you made your way to the waiting carriage, when Theo spotted an ice cream store, his eyes lit up at the thought of sweets. When you saw how excited he was, you suggested that the two of you investigate the shop before heading back. 

For the first time in Theo van Gogh whole existence, a woman had paid for him. He was sitting across from you in the ice cream parlour while you were happily eating away at your sugary treat, still trying to process it all. You had paid as a token of thanks for him helping you pick out the best art supplies. What shocked him even more was during argument about the bill you legit gave him a deadpan look and bluntly said that you were ganna treat him no matter what. After that comment you legit left him blushing and speechless, you truly were a strange woman.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments when you finally decided to break the ice. You curiously asked why it was that he knew so much about art, and that’s when he revealed that he was an art dealer. And so the rest of the afternoon was spent chatting about art, paintings, drawings and your mutual passion and appreciation for the trade. To say Theo was pleasantly surprised by you would be an understatement, his first impression of you was now so laughable compared to the person sitting before him. The first time he saw you, he thought you an aloof, little boy who seemed to judge him down to the very depths of his soul. Yet as he got to know you, he had come to realise that there was much more to you.

In the weeks to follow you seemed to surprise Theo more and more. The first thing that had this boy sister shook was your inhuman strength. One day as you were helping Isaac sorts out the library. The two of you had managed to fill up 2 huge boxes of junk and clutter that could be stored in the mansions attic. Isaac lifted one of the boxes and determined that it was too heavy for the both of you, so he went to call Theo or Leo who would have an easier job with doing the heavy lifting. As Theo rounded to the corner to help move the boxes, he almost rammed straight into you. “Oi hondjie, you are going to hurt yourself let me take…” As he took the box from your hands, his face started going red, and a vein in his neck started popping out. The box you had been carrying was obviously almost too heavy for him to carry, he turned around swiftly and started walking up the attic stairs. It took you no time to catch up to him carrying another heavy box of your own. At this point you could see a bead of sweat roll down his face. Theo was determined to carry this box up, there was no way he was going to be shown up by a girl, especially one that he liked. He finally made it to the top of the attic and place the box down with a huff, you had to laugh at the small blush that was still on his cheeks. 

Just then out of the corner of your eye, an old piano caught your attention. Theo eyed you curiously still recovering from the blow to his ego, as you sat down on the dusty piano chair and blew the dust of the piano keys. Your fingers moved to their own accord, gliding across the keys to play a familiar song from muscle memory. Theo sat down next to you and closed his eyes to absorb the beautiful melody. As the last note echoed through the attic, Theo opened his eyes, and sapphire eyes glared down into the depths of your soul. He had honestly never in his life felt more drawn to anyone, before he could say anything your stomach gave a loud growl. It was now your turn to blush and look away in embarrassment. Theo then leads you downstairs, where he whipped you up some stroopwafels.

You tied the apron around your waist and helped Theo prepare the sugary dessert. You were so excited and happy, you loved baking and learning/exchanging new recipes. Once the two of you were done making the sweet snack, you sat down and munched on the Stroop waffles and coffee. The rest of the afternoon was spent chatting about your mutual hate for bitter slimy vegetables and love for dogs as you ate the sugary snack and sipped on coffee. This actually started a tradition between the two of you, where once in a while the two of you would exchange recipes and cook your favourite dishes together.

One day as Theo joined Comte in his room for some tea, he saw a beautiful painting hanging behind Comte, it was just filled with so much emotion. “Hey, Comte, did Vincent paint that one, I haven’t seen it before.” Comte gleamed in delight and told him that you were the artist responsible for the masterpiece and that you had given it to him as a thank you gift for the art supplies. Theo was shook, he knew you loved art but to have created such a masterpiece. He stomped his way to your room and knock on your door. He could hear shuffling from the other side, he swung the door open and spotted you throwing a heap full of tissues in the dustbin and hiding the trashcan behind you. All it took was one look at your red nose, pale face and tired eyes to know that you were clearly sick. You tried to play it off and make your way past Theo to help Sebastian with lunch service, when Theo picked you up and plonked you down on your bed. The second your head hit the pillow, your tired eyes closed and you lost consciousness. You woke a few hours later to Theo sitting by your side gently stroking your hair while placing a cold washcloth on your forehead every now and then. You stubbornly tried to convince him that you weren’t sick. Theo narrowed his eyes at you and in a soft, gentle tone said, “Hondjie can you just stop being stubborn for one minute and let me take care of you.” Theo had nursed you back to full health and you got to see a new side of Theo that you had never seen before, his sweet kind gentle side. It was actually during this time when Theo had confessed his undying love for you.

Theo love love loved your art and would insist you show him your masterpieces once you are done with them.  He knew your weren't confident in your skills and would usually hide your drawings so he did what any reasonable person would do. He tickled you until you gave up the hiding spot so he could see your creation.

He also knows you don’t like crowded places or loud noises, so he actually cleared up a room for you to use as your own art room to work in peace, where no one was allowed to disturb you. 

He knew you would get dizzy and feel suffocated whenever the two of you would walk through a busy crowd in the markets. So now every time the two of you cuties go out, he was sure to plan your route using back roads to avoid unnecessary crowds or he would bring King along for a walk with you. Even though King is a sweet, friendly golden retriever, he has come to love you and will do whatever it takes to protect the new member of his pack. Even if that means angry staring down people so they can part like the red sea before you and Theo.

Theo absolutely loves you to the moon and back. He loves your sweet innocent mind and will always cover your ears and glare daggers at Arthur whenever he is telling stories of previous nights conquests as he “doesn’t want Arthur to taint your innocent mind and soul.” 

He absolutely loves to finally have someone around who gets his dark, morbid sense of humour and who can equally match his weird jokes. Often when the two of you are together, you would be quick-firing the weirdest jokes at each other, while being in stitches laughing at each other.

Theo also loves how you have similar beliefs as him in not judging people. It was due to this that he was completely able to open up about his past with you. You helped him to heal and grow from his past traumas. You helped catch him many a time before falling in the abyss, dragging him out back into the light. 

Both of you were pretty awkward when it came to physical affection at the beginning of your relationship. However, after many, a stiff, awkward hug followed by a fit of laughter from how awkward the two of you were, eventually the two of you started to get more comfortable around each other. 

Now when Theo cuddles you, as you draw him as a manga character, the two of you chuckle at the memory of how stiff and awkward it was the first time the two of you had even held hands. Theo will 100% always insist on holding your hand whenever the two of you go outside as he knows just how accident-prone you are when it comes to nature.

Ultimately Theo loves to spend quiet evenings with you snuggled up in his arms as the two of you exchange stories of each other days. He loves to read all your little manga’s you manage to create for him. Although he will never admit it, he always gets super excited when you tell him about an anime you watched or show him your newest manga drawing. He will shower you with endless amounts of hugs and cuddles from the moment you go to bed till the moment you wake up. And every morning without fail Theo will greet you with a freshly bred cup of milky coffee and a kiss.

Other potential matches…………… Vincent 

I hope you enjoyed this dear and i hope you have the best day! 🦊🌻❤

[nabrizoya]

Congrats on your 100 followers!!! 💞💞💞 Thank you for being here, for fangirling over Jesse and Lucie with me! You brighten my day every time I see your messages!! 🤗💕 Those 100 have made the right choice by following you!! Sooo... 1 about Cordelia, 4, and 6 about Jesse!! Something about me... I love watching rhythmic gymnastics and it is one of the leading sports in my country!! 😊

excuse me ma’am have i ever talked of how brilliant you are and everything that you do? when you first followed me i lost my shit because oH my GOD look who- yeah, safe to say, I was really excited and surprised. Man, talking about Jesse and Lucie is like the best thing ever but more than that, I’m glad that I got to know a little more about you as a person than just a tumblr user I adore. (idk about the right choice but ehh, we’ll see). 

1. Oh my god. I loVED Cordelia all the while reading Chain of Gold. She’s so wonderful and we all see parts of ourselves in her? She’s not self sufficient but she always strives to be better? The one moment that I fell absolutely in love with her was when she goes to confess to Alastair that she had been eavesdropping on him and Charles and she says, and I quote:

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overhear such things. I only wanted to tell you I loved you just the same. It makes no difference to me.

Because honestly, these words mean the world to a struggling person. And I can only imagine the effect they have on Alastair because the next time we see him, he’s fiercely protective of Layla, a side of him which he haven’t seen until then. It just shows the sort of power that words and especially words that mean acceptance can come a long, long way. 

I think many people already knew at the beginning of the book that the boy Lucie met in the forest was Jesse but I hadn’t known that at all. Possibly because I only started reading the rest of tsc i.e. TID, TFTSA, TDA and GOTSM since March. So I was clueless for a bit there. 

Here’s a bonus to you though: Much, much before I even started reading Lady Midnight, the moment I met Kit, I knew he was Herondale. Why? Did I have a metal detector thing that spots Herondales? No. Because I... wait for it... spoiled myself. Hell yeah, spoiler nation to the victory. But I spoiled myself way back in 2018 itself so idk it must’ve stayed at the back of my mind until it decided to randomly torment just as I began reading. 

6. Jesse [aah, there’s SO many!] 

When Tatiana would go around on her voodoo, black magic errands, Jesse would play the piano for Grace and it would be the only time when he would get to see his sister truly be the little child she was. I also have this strange headcanon that Grace is an excellent singer and that when her brother plays the piano, she sings the shadowhunters’ lullaby that her biological mother sang to her as a child. As she sang, Jesse would play the tune to match the piano because he has heard it being sung to other shadowhunter kids in Idris. In retrospect, it’s kinda sad, but what can be said? The two of them really did live strange and nearly awful lives. 

Jesse is a profound animal lover! He loves ALL animals and as a ghost while he wandered around the Brocelind Forest, he befriended almost many of them. And this kinda ties up well with the fact that Ty (who is said to be the most resembling to Jesse, what with his slender build and features and black hair) also loves animals so much, but the key difference is that Ty while loves the eccentric and rarest of them, Jesse quite likes all of them though there is a line that he draws where he carefully handles a little more dangerous animals. 

He once tried to fix the garden that made a clearing behind the Chiswick House (near the river next to the trees) and decided to build a birdhouse but due to his sickness, he never was actually able to. but he’ll fix it with Lucie. it will become abandoned after a few years and then it will collapse due to lack of proper care.

Jesse loves the space and he enjoys stargazing. (: 

Jesse is a manageable, perhaps a nearly good cook and because I doubt Tatiana ever fed him well he sometimes made his sister’s favourite treats that he otherwise wouldn’t when his mother was around.

Listen up you lovely person, I am SO GLAD I MET YOU and yess it’s an understatement when I say you’re awesome. :’) and i’ll keep repeating that until the end of eternity and your love for star wars is unmatchable. <33

(also, shit, this is awkward, i totally forgot to do 4. here you go: it’s a collection from december 2019 when i was reading a few books from the chronicles of narnia; 

“Grown-ups are always thinking of uninteresting explanations!” said Digory. 

Aunt Letty was a very tough old lady; aunts often were in those days.

Laugh and fear not, creatures. Now that you are no longer dumb and witless, you need not always be grave. For jokes as well as justice come in with speech.

Now the trouble about trying to make yourself stupider than you really are is that you very often succeed. 

“...There is no pool now. The world is ended, as if it had never been. Let the race of Adam and Eve take warning.” // “Yes Aslan,” said both the children. But Polly added, “But we’re not quite as bad as that world, are we, Aslan?” // “Not yet, Daughter of Eve.”

The Magician’s Nephew, Lewis Carroll.

thanks for asking, matey. :”)

Also, Photographic evidence of me spoiling myself lol circa 2020 March 31st: (such a mood no? FML).

[harryscumcloth]

Mister and Missus Maybe

This was inspired by a dear friend of mine. Someone I relate to in many ways. I absolutely adore you. I dedicate this to you as anonymous. Warnings: angst, anxiety, depression

“Baby, I don’t think you should leave.” You say as if you are pre warning him. There is an awful feeling deep in your gut that you cannot admit to him at this point. This is the time when you need him most.

“It’s going to be fine, babe. I promise.” He comes to a halt packing his small luggage that is set on the edge of the bed. “Everything is going to be fine.” His attempt to coerce you into believing that everything would be fine, failed as usual.

He adds the last few items before zipping up and dropping it to the floor beside him. “Beth is coming, right?” He shakes his wrist around for the face of his watch to be visible.

You didn't have the courage to tell him that you never called Beth. “Um, yeah. She should be here any minute now.” You didn’t want to be alone, but the voice in your head convinced you that you should be.

“I have to get going love. Mitch is waiting outside.” He draws you into one of his famous, heartwarming hugs. The one that everyone yearns for. “I love you baby.” His face disappears into the crook of your neck, holding you extra tight.

You feel your eyes brimming with tears as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple, then another to your forehead, and lastly to your lips.

You’re afraid to speak because you know your voice will crack and you won’t be able to hold the tears back, so you just squeeze him tighter.

He turns to face you once more, while walking out of the door. “Next time that I see you, you will be mine forever. Mrs. Styles.” He grips your hand and pulls it to his mouth and leaves small peppered kisses across it.

You’re almost disappointed that he wasn’t able to recognize the signs that were showing prior to him leaving. You try to persuade yourself that he knows you. He knows you. You will be okay. Eventually, you thought.

You lounge on the sofa for the last half of the day. Nothing but darkness surrounds you. All you can hear is the sound of the ceiling fan ticking and it’s driving you mad. A nice, hot bath might help, you thought.

The claw foot tub filled with steaming hot water, along with a cloud of bubbles floating on the surface. You sink your body deep into the water, leaving only your head out.

Although you usually prefer the quiet, it seems too much at this moment. The sound of Harry’s feet pattering across the floor isn’t there. The sound of him harshly writing in the notepad, isn’t there. The clanking of the dishes during his late night cooking didn’t fill every room in the house. Worst of all, the sound of his voice isn’t there.

The overwhelming feeling of loneliness washes over you, leaving you feeling frail and stuck. You don’t understand why you do this to yourself. You never let anyone know when a spell is coming. You want to face it on your own for some strange reason.

The water turns ice cold after hours of laying in it. A comparison to what you are going through at this moment is like having a cinder block placed on your chest. Not able to breathe properly. Which leads to you not being able to think straight. Eventually, you reach for the phone, clicking his name. It rings quite a bit before his voice fills your ears.

“Baby, what is it?” His sleepy tone is hard to decipher. You don’t speak. You can’t speak. There’s a lump the size of a baseball in your throat. Your body is so numb, but your mind is racing faster than ever before. All he can hear are the soft whimpers that echo throughout the bathroom. “I’m coming baby, hold on for me.” You detect the panic rise in his voice as he tells you to stay on the phone.

It seems like an eternity before he arrives. He talked to you the entire ride back. He even sang for you. A gush of tears fell from your eyes when you heard the fast sound of his shoes smacking against the floor as he dashed into the bathroom. He’s absolutely heartbroken at the sight of you. Your eyes are swollen two times of their normal size. Your nose is all stuffy and draining and it’s actually quite gross, but he doesn’t mind it. He shows his frustration as he lets the water down the drain. It was only supposed to be for a day. One whole day and you couldn’t make it that long.

He gathers the blankets from the bed and pulls them into the bathroom. “I’m here baby.” He begins to slide every article of clothing off of his body. “Here, look.” He says as he steps in the bathtub lifting you forward while he slips in behind you, covering you both completely. The wetness is uncomfortable for the both of you at first, but you adjust quickly.

The sounds of humming fills your ears as he holds you close, gently rocking side to side. He knows you well enough to know that skin to skin is a primary solution for one of your spells.

You lay in this position for a while, until your mind becomes exhausted, letting you fall asleep. He’s able to let his tears fall now. It doesn’t only affect you, it affects him also. He’s never felt so heavy in his life, but it’s something he chose to deal with when he asked you to marry him.

You’ve practically known each other your entire lives, and that’s how he knew you were the one, despite your flaws. He loves you unconditionally. Harry shows you every minute that you are with him, that he loves you. But that voice in your head won’t let you believe it. It haunts you like a black cloud that is constantly over you saying no.

The early morning light wakes you, making you wonder where you are. Your eyes wander around the room before your body is able to move. You lift yourself from Harry’s grip, carefully climbing out. “Babe?” You shake him with ease as you stand over him. His eyes slowly  flutter open to reveal a better you.

He grips the sides of the bathtub, helping himself get out. “How are you feeling today love?” His arms wrapped around you once again, making you feel better instantly. “I’m sorry..” you whimper into his chest. He rubs circles into your back with his hand, still holding you close. “It’s okay baby.” He leaves a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re fine.”

He spends the first hour giving you the love that you need to make it through the day. You explained what happened with Beth and why you never called for her. He’s angry about it at first, but he accepts the fact that it’s technically not your fault.

***

You find yourself being overwhelmed by the amount of people hired to prep you for your wedding. It’s a medium sized room, but it doesn’t seem to be enough air for everyone to share. You’re being tugged in different directions until the final touch.

The veil.

It is placed on strategically in your hair, set to cover your face. The level of your anxiety has been lowered due to the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You link arms with your father as the piano begins to be played. You follow his lead down the aisle, gripping him close. You have already begun to cry, but luckily it isn’t so noticeable, thanks to the waterproof makeup.

As you near Harry at the end, your body trembles. Your legs quiver uncontrollably while you try to keep steady in heels. The thought of running away occurs more than once during the walk, but you convince yourself that this is what you want. And it is what you want, but it’s not going to fix you. Nothing can.

Your father kisses your cheek, then sends you up the steps to stand face to face with Harry. He’s an emotional wreck. More so than you actually. His hands connect with yours, rubbing his thumbs over the tops.

The priest starts the ceremony, repeating the script he is reading from.

“Harry, would you like to start?” The priest asks.

“Of course.” He gazes straight into your eyes and begins to read from his memory. “I’ve had this memorized for weeks now.” He gives a nervous laugh. “You are single handedly, the best thing to ever happen to me. I would be nowhere without you. You’ve supported me throughout my entire career and I can never thank you enough baby. I love you more than life itself, and I will love you forever, no matter what.” His voice starts to shake. “I will give you my all.”

The tears are falling from your eyes uncontrollably as your turn comes. You feel as if your stomach could empty it’s contents right here and now.

“You are the true definition of an angel sent from heaven above. You’ve been nothing but great to me all of these years, even when we were children. You are the love of my life, a true partner, and a man that I will honor for the rest of my life.” “You,” you add emphasis to the word ‘you’, “are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am forever thankful you chose me.” You are full on sobbing at the realization of your future. A happy sob.

“We are gathered together here to unite this man Harry Edward Styles and this woman (y/f/n)  in the bonds of matrimony.

“Do you take (y/n) to be your lawfully wedded wife?

His dimples appear as his smile grows wider. “I do your honor.”

The priest turns to you.

“Do you take Harry to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you manage to say through the sobs.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

He lifts your veil to reveal your tear stained face, thinking you have never looked more beautiful than you do in this very moment. He carefully pulls your face to his and places the warmest, most loving kiss you have ever experienced upon your lips.

[project-stormblessed]

1-50

Alrighty!

1. What color are your socks?

All of my socks are either completely black or black and gray. Lol.

2. Have you ever lied about your age? Why?

Only once when I was like, 12 or 13 making a second Youtube account lol.

3. What is something you regret in the past month?

Becoming distant and isolating myself from most of my friends. Quarantine has not been good for my mental health tbh.

4. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Honestly? Not sure. Part of me doesn’t, and part of me does. Can’t really get either part to agree one way or the other.

5. When was the last time you wrote someone a letter on paper? Definitely well over a decade ago. Honestly can’t remember.

6. How old were you when you first learned how to ride a bike? Who taught you?

I was 11 or 12, and it was my older brother Jack who taught me. He also taught me how to drive lol.

7. Do you get along with your parents? Why or why not?

We get along well enough. Now that they’re retired the house is a much calmer environment.

8. What’s your favorite season?

Spring. I love seeing everything in bloom—the colors are very pleasing to me. I love seeing lots of green, and lots of lush plantlife.

9. Do you currently like someone?

Hmm, not entirely sure about that one. I guess I don’t really have any strong feelings for anyone in particular. Maybe. 👀👀

10. Have you ever used an Ouija board?

Nope, and I don’t plan on it.

11. What’s the last song you sang?

It was a song for choir this past semester, though I don’t remember the title that well or the composer.

12. What’s your favorite scent?

Never really had a favorite scent, honestly. My sense of smell has been pretty dull/weak for as long as I can remember and I’ve never really given much thought to any favorite scent.

13. What’s your favorite urban legend?

The Roswell UFO incident of 1947. It sparked my interest in aliens and UFOs at a very young age, and is probably responsible for a good deal of my love for sci-fi.

14. What’s a bad habit that you have?

Poor self control when it comes to time management. I tend to let myself get absorbed in things.

15. What’s a strange habit that you have?

Hmm. Totally blanked and could only come up with “making noises and pretending to be a mech of some sort when moving around my house”. That’s all I got.

16. What’s the first instrument you learned to play?

Piano. I started learning at 8 years old.

17. How would you describe your ‘type’?

Y’know funny enough I’ve never really thought I had a type. However reaching my mid-twenties has made me realize that my ‘type’ is kind, compassionate, goofy, and nerdy/geeky.

18. Would you rather stay in or go out?

Depends on the company, I guess. Though, usually I prefer to stay in anyway.

19. What was the last thing you said to your mom?

“I’m taking Dax out.” When I went for a walk with my dog lol.

20. Do you want to get married someday?

Definitely didn’t used to. I’m at the point where I’d be down if my partner wanted to, though I’m not sure I’d wanna spend a shitload of money on a wedding. Guess it depends on financial status at the time and the preferences of my partner.

21. Have you ever snuck out?

Nah, though I never needed to. My parents typically let me leave house whenever I wanted to as long as I told them who I’m with and when-ish I’m going to be home.

22. Can you sing well?

I can match pitch pretty well, but I can’t produce pitch un-aided. Usually. So kinda. I’m ok at best, all things considered.

23. What’s an embarrassing thing that happened this week?

I went off on some of my friends over something kinda silly because my mental state as of late hasn’t been all that great.

24. When was the last time you went sledding?

Uhhh, definitely more than ten years ago.

25. Have you ever liked/do you like someone you know you can never be with?

You kidding me? That’s like, all of my crushes ever. Maybe that’s an exaggeration but honestly it’s certainly FELT that way each time.

26. Do people often mispronounce your name?

No, though I have known a few people throughout my life that said “Bin” rather than “Ben”. I eventually realised it was an accent thing and stopped giving a shit very early.

27. Would you like to live in another country?

Yes, actually. For no small number of reasons. I’ve always wanted to live in Italy ever since I visited when I was 15.

28. Do you like to watch ghost hunting shows?

I definitely used to. I don’t really watch tv much in general anymore, though.

29. Who was the last person you said “I love you” too?

My mom.

30. What’s something you’d like to be better at?

Social interaction. Speaking in general. I’m MUCH more articulate in writing/typing than I am speaking.

31. Have you ever stayed up with someone who was sad?

Yes, and I’m always willing to do so.

32. What was the last thing you cooked?

I helped my good friend prepare some bomb ass ramen a few months back. I guess that counts.

33. Do you think you’d make a good parent?

I’d like to think so, yeah. I would make sure my children know I’m always there for them and will support the hell out of them.

34. Do you have trouble sleeping at night?

I don’t, but my dipshit body does.

35. Where is your best friend right now?

All of them are either playing video games or asleep.

36. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?

Factoring in every aspect of the morning ritual, about 40 minutes. That’s if I’m going somewhere like work or school. If I’m staying home then there’s no getting ready for anything but sitting on my ass lol.

37. How late do you usually stay up at night?

Depends on the time of year/what I’m doing the next day. Right now during quarantine I average anywhere between 2am and 6am. I’m trying to fix that currently.

38. When was the last time you cried and why?

The last time I truly cried was sometime in 2015. I was listening to Breaking Benjamin’s latest album and feeling exceedingly lonely/depressed. It wasn’t a great day.

39. Have you ever won a contest?

None that I can remember, honestly.

40. Can you draw well?

Lol. No. I have very little visual artistic talent or skill.

41. Would you ever date someone you met on tumblr/the internet?

Definitely, though obviously I wouldn’t just jump right in. I’m down for long distance relationships, too. But obviously mutual trust and emotional connection would have to be established first.

42. What was the last thing you ate?

Some brownie fudge M&Ms lol.

43. Do you think you’re/you’d make a good boyfriend?

I don’t really know. Never been in a relationship so I don’t have anything go off of. On the one hand I’m super understanding, laid back, and accepting of boundaries. I just want to make sure people feel comfortable and safe around me. On the other hand I’m also forgetful and very selfish when it comes to my time. I also obviously have plenty of emotional trauma/baggage (who doesn’t?) that tends to impede how I interact with people, so. 🤷🏼‍♂️

44. Have you ever had a near death experience?

Not that I can remember, and I hope I never do. The closest I think I ever came was when I fell off a ropeless bridge into a dry riverbed at 4 years old. Got a concussion from that.

45. What do you think people think of you?

Well, my anxiety tells me I’m annoying and boring. The logical side of me tells me most people in my life enjoy my company, so I guess there’s that.

46. What is your middle name and do you like it?

Don’t feel like sharing my middle name here, but I will say I don’t dislike it. Kinda neutral.

47. Are you close with either of your parents?

Kinda. My parents were often emotionally distant/abusive to my brothers and me growing up, and it’s left me rather stunted emotionally, and generally unwilling to establish a deeper relationship with them. We’re a bit closer than we were when I was a teenager, but honestly not much.

48. Do you like yourself?

Generally speaking? No. There are parts of me I’m proud of, but honestly I often find myself wishing I was someone else. I’m far from the self-loathing I experienced when I was younger, though.

49. State five facts about your appearance—

1. I’m 6’1”-ish.

2. Definitely just a bit chubby.

3. Blue eyes.

4. Currently sporting longer hair because I haven’t had a haircut since about September.

5. I have a number of faded scars on my arms from various self inflicted/work related injuries. All of them were caused by extreme clumsiness/poor spacial awareness.

50. State five facts about your personality—

1. I’m super goofy—I make lots of weird noises and motions.

2. I tend to ramble about things I’m interested in, particularly hyper fixations.

3. I like to think I’m a pretty compassionate human being.

4. Extremely awkward, but strangely that doesn’t show because I’m apparently a social chameleon.

5. I’m an observer, but also an overthinker.

Whew, that was a lot! Thank you, friend!

[softbiker]

A Familiar Place - Part 2

Warnings: a bad word or two, literally zero editing 

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: Not sure if I’m satisfied with this, but posting to celebrate hitting 200 followers!! Thanks for being here, I love you all! As always, let me know what you think :) 

This is not an “x Reader” or romance story.

“Okay, I’m 100% sure it’s not supposed to look like that.”

“Shut up, bird brain.”

“Will you two stop it I can’t hear the instructor.”

Three soldiers exchange glares behind their easels, brushes poised over canvas. Their stools are set in the back of the class, clustered close together so they can peek over each others shoulders. Other easels are arranged  in semi-circle rows towards the front of the classroom, with the instructor at the epicenter, walking back and forth and making comments to the students. To her credit, she tries to ignore the fussing commentary from the back of the room, only sparing them a glance every once in a while.

An oil painting class. Painting was never Steve’s strong suit - he prefers pencils and charcoal, quick messy sketches under his flurried fingers, captured on the spur of the moment. Bucky faintly remembers a smaller, softer Steve, the graphite on his hands, the smudges that covered his nose. Pencil fixed behind his ear, where Bucky would have placed a cigarette. But when they came here, settled into their place in Bed-Stuy, Steve decided to try out something new. And today he invited Sam and Bucky to join him.

Steve takes easily to new mediums, whatever his protests about not being a “natural” painter. Sam has no idea what he’s doing, but Bucky knows that has never stopped him from having a good time.

Bucky, though.

Bucky feels nervous each time he dips his brush, blends his paints. He feels somehow wasteful, putting his own brush to the canvas. Hand him a knife, a gun, hell - even one of Stark’s high-tech weapons, and he’s steady. A deadshot. But a paintbrush? He doubts every stroke and line. Without a talent like Steve’s, he thinks, this canvas would be better off with someone else.

But Steve is having a good time and he hates to ruin that, so Bucky quietly frowns at his canvas, tongue poking between his lips. Today’s class is a still life, their reference a pale blue vase of flowers on a table in the center of the room. Steve has rendered it beautifully, even captured the soft lighting from the windows on the west wall of the room. Sam’s attempt is passable, for someone with no training at all in studio art.

It isn’t that Bucky doesn’t have some skill, or proficiency, or artistic eye. He remembers sitting through a couple of figure drawing classes with Steve - he managed to learn a thing or two, when he wasn’t winking at the models. And his work isn’t bad, he knows that, but -

Well. He doesn’t think it’s worth making.

**********

He keeps coming to the class for a few weeks, when Steve’s schedule is free from missions and meetings, of course. They sit near the back of the room and Bucky makes good attempts but he’s not really sure if he’s making art.

“You know, I’m really not sure if oils are your medium.”

The class is over, and the instructor stands at Bucky’s elbow, looking at the row of paintings laid along the shelf to dry. Bucky had been comparing his work to his classmates, thinking pretty much the same thing.

“Not that you don’t have a hand for painting,” the instructor continues, hands slipping into the pockets of her overalls. “But I think you’re letting it intimidate you - you put too much pressure on yourself and then you hesitate. I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Bucky shrugs. “I guess.” The instructor laughed a little, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“See? You hesitated to tell me that you hesitate.” She was shaking her head with a not unkind smile.

“Jeez - you have a side gig as a therapist?”

“Nope - just good at seeing people.”

Bucky shifted his feet, not used to the feeling of being closely observed - it definitely wasn’t something he liked. Seeming to sense this, the instructor took a step back, shrugging her shoulders and looking away from him.

“Look, you should keep coming,” she offered. “You have some talent, that’s for sure. But you can try other things. Doesn’t have to be oil paint and flowers. What do you want to make?”

Steve is waiting outside the classroom, reading the bulletin board in the hallway. Fluorescent-colored flyers litter the board, interspersed with lost pet ads, ride shares, roommate offers, and piano lessons. Steve fingers one, tears off the number for an Asian cooking class, and tucks the slip of paper in his jacket pocket. He turns when he hears Bucky’s footsteps, that classic smile curling up his mouth.

“You, ready?”

“Yep.”

They take the subway back, dutifully ignoring the raised eyebrows and cell phones that turn their way. It’s New York - sooner or later people get over it. Bucky’s metal hand is wrapped loosely around a pole that Steve leans against, supersoldier strength and balance making him barely shift as the train speeds and slows.

“Sam is supposed to get back from that recon op this afternoon,” Steve says, his voice low enough keep their conversation private. “He’ll probably want takeout for dinner.”

Bucky nods. “He always does, after a mission. Milks it for all he’s worth, so we have to get his favorite - I bet he’ll want fried rice from that Thai place, and we better make sure there’s cold beer in the fridge.”

Steve just smiles, glances down at his sneakers, shifts his feet a little. He’ll never say a word, a single goddamn word, about how much Bucky and Sam pay attention to each other. About Bucky remembering Sam’s takeout order from every single one of their usual places; about Sam bringing home new exotic fruits from the health food market so Bucky could try things that weren’t available back in the day. He will never breathe a single word about how Bucky took Sam’s laundry and scrubbed the blood out after that mission in Denver went bad, or Sam driving back and forth to Bucky’s therapy appointments, in spite of the distance.

Loose lips, Rogers. Nope. His are sealed.

**********

“If I didn’t know any better, I would honest to God think that Stark didn’t respect me,” Sam shakes his head, shovelling rounded lumps of rice into his mouth with his chopsticks. His cheeks are comically full, but he continues to talk. “I mean, the guy really asked if I needed air support. Me? Baby, I am air support.”

Steve makes a noise of assent around a mouthful of noodles that he continues to slurp into his mouth. Bucky says nothing, but smiles into his egg roll. The coffee table in front of them is littered with takeout boxes, some still full, some already emptied. Steve and Bucky have already finished 2 beers each - Sam is drinking at a slower pace so he can continue to talk.

“I fucking invented air support. Pssh.” Sam rolls his eyes, settling back against the cushions of the couch and pulling his standard blanket over his lap.

The TV is set to a sports channel, a college basketball game they’re not too invested in carrying on in the background. Sam talks and talks, the other two barely getting a word in, but that’s alright - he always needs this, after a mission. Sam has to get it all out, decompress, debrief, de-everything in that post-victory rush of adrenaline he’s still high on when he comes home. They let him - they sit around in their sweatpants and half-watch a ballgame and shoot the shit over beers and Thai, and let Sam come back to himself.

“So,” Sam sighs, sipping his beer. “What’d you old farts get up to while I was gone, huh?”

“Mm, not much.” Steve’s reply is muffled as he continues to inhale his noodles. “Art class. Running.”

“Getting some goddamn peace and quiet,” Bucky pipes up, crumpling up the now empty egg roll bag and reaching for a full styrofoam container of steaming fried rice.

“Ha ha.” Sam doesn’t even look up from his food. “Y’all know it’s boring as hell around here without me. And who else is gonna help you two to meet some females? Hm? You think people are lining up to wingman for your hundred-year-old asses? No way!”

“What would we do without you, Sam?” Steve asks, that ironic twist to his mouth that Bucky has known all his life.

“You’d be star-spangled roadkill, I can tell you that much.”

They laugh and settle, eyes passing over the ballgame as one of the teams lines up for a free throw. It’s just the three of them in their little place, but it feels full. It’s enough. It’s home.

**********

Over the next few weeks, Bucky takes the painting instructor’s advice.

He rolls out huge canvases on the floor and slings paint in random patterns, layers of splatter until he feels like his eyes have crossed. The freedom, the lack of pressure, the fun of throwing paint around like a child - all of that he likes, but still.

“Still not sure if it’s my thing,” he tells Steve, as they look at his finished piece propped up against the wall. Steve nods, lips pursed.

“Well, we could hang it up at the compound. Tony keeps talking about needing more art around that place.”

Bucky just rolls his eyes.

“I’m not five, Steve. You don’t have to hang my scribbles on the fridge.”

He goes back to the studio and slings pots - pots and vases and key bowls and jewelry dishes and mugs. They’re passable, usable, functional - these are the words he thinks of when he glazes them in soft blue and yellow shades. Bucky likes the feel of it under his fingers, the wet firmness of the clay that yields to his hands. He’s gotten little bits of dried clay between the metal plates of his arm, but he doesn’t mind - he’s learned they’re easy enough to dislodge with a toothbrush. He gives away or takes home all of his little projects, happy to see them used.

Sam gifts him with a polaroid camera he found going through some of his parents things, and Bucky fiddles with it until he’s quite good at taking pictures. Whenever they go out he has his camera slung around his neck, an extra packet of film and a flashbar in his backpack. He has dozens of photos now - photos of Steve sipping coffee and flipping off the camera. Photos of Sam and Rhodey laughing, in full gear, when the team had drinks at the compound last month. A few photos of Natasha and Wanda, who come over to the brownstone sometimes - Natasha’s legs are folded over the end of the couch, while Wanda gets a piggyback ride from Steve. He tacks the pictures up, covering nearly half of the wall of his bedroom, not caring about the holes he leaves in the drywall.

It’s Wanda who introduces him to knitting, one weekend when both Steve and Sam get called out on a potential terror situation in London. There’s a rule - unspoken, unwritten - among Steve’s friends that someone comes to check on Bucky whenever they have to leave him alone. He doesn’t protest, knowing that they do it out of kindness and loyalty to Steve; he knows all about being loyal to Steve.

Wanda sits cross-legged on the couch, her fingers working the knitting needles at a hypnotic pace. He likes Wanda; she’s quiet and sensitive, all soft smiles and knowing eyes. A room always feels calmer with her in it. She had used his hands earlier to loop the yarn, and now he watches her over the top of his book, which he has all but abandoned.

When he asks her about the knitting, if she can show him, she looks up. Soft smiles and knowing eyes.

Bucky has always been good with his hands, so no one is surprised that he’s good at knitting. Eventually, they all have something he’s made: a beanie for Sam, a scarf for Steve, fingerless gloves for Wanda, and blankets galore for their too-cold brownstone.

**********

It fills up his time, somehow.

Bucky makes drawings, and paintings, and little origami birds out of grocery receipts. He makes bowls he can give to his friends and pictures that he can keep and blankets that he can share. He scours google and breaks a few (literal) eggs and makes banana bread that fills the brownstone with a smell that he could float on. He makes pancakes and poems and -

Bucky makes.

On the subway with Steve - a figure drawing class tonight - Bucky is staring at his hands. Ungloved metal and soft scarred flesh. His hands are tools, they’re instruments. They can be molds or looms or brushes or chisels.

“Weapons” doesn’t even enter his mind at all.

Tags:

@vacant-writings

@bitsandbobsandstuff

[narahalara]

Wrote this a couple days ago, maybe on Wednesday, whichever day it was raining this week. I saved it to my drafts so I might as well share it. It most likely does not completely explain everything I was/am feeling and there are probably not enough words in the world to allow me to do so, but I won’t edit this cause I think there is something interesting about pouring out what I feel without a second thought to it all. 

Reminder to Self: That gentle rain pitter pattering against your bedroom window. The one you find yourself stuck between seeing as a metaphor of the world crying for its people and their suffering, or merely a blessing for nature to be restored and the earth to grow. That same rain may be the treacherous storm somebody out there is just trying to get through tonight. Someone who doesn’t own a home or even a heavy blanket to wrap themselves in when the winds grow thicker. Someone who is trying to get home safely after a long weary shift as a cashier or a health worker getting to their place of isolation to the safety of their families whom they miss dearly. That same rain is being wiped endlessly by the windshields of a delivery truck by someone who is making those deliveries and making those miles for those who cannot right now.  It is important to acknowledge the balance between thankfulness in the midst of this chaos and empathy with those who may not have it is easy as we do. We are all allowed to feel whatever we are feeling right now. We are all being affected one way or another, or another, or another. Be safe, be smart, but also be selfless. Remember that everyone right now is making a sacrifice in different ways, no reason outweighing nor holding more validation over the other. It is crazy to think that we are all riding the same boat, fighting the same battle right no in different ways, yet in an odd sense, we are also being somehow blessed right now in the midst of this tribulation. So overall, be kind to yourself, the ones you love, and the people out there who may just be unknown faces. Because behind those strangers are human beings with stories and struggles too. Slow down, take this as an opportunity to do things you love but have taken a step back from because of the fast-paced life we are expected to have. Talk to those friends you haven’t hit up in awhile. Sing louder in the shower, read those poetry books you bought on amazon but have just been sitting on your bedside corner as merely aesthetics. Bake, cook, eat, exercise, meditate, do yoga, pray, worship, sing, dance, play piano, guitar, drums, write, draw, color, spend time with family, spend time with yourself. Catchup on those Netflix shows, rewatch your favorite ones. Pick up old hobbies, pick up new ones. If you need to cry, then cry. If you start feeling depress or anxiety starts creeping in, do not get angry at yourself. Find the root, look for solutions, talk to someone you trust about it, and know the feeling will pass. Remember to never go a day without laughing. Learn to live that life we only know in increments and make it the new reality. Pray and believe the suffering will pass, but what we learn will be engraved into our lives forever. Allow positivity and love to reign over fear and worry. Be aware of what is happening, but don’t let your mind get consumed by the overwhelming amount of information especially when half of it may not even be true. Have hope in a world where that word is threading on a string. Learn to live with a whole new mind set again. Just breathe. We will get through this.

[cosmocalum]

Getting High w/Cal

Okay! But imagine you just started to see Calum. He has taken you on a couple dates that ended with a kiss but that is the extent of it. You really liked him, he was the first boy you have seen in the longest time and you enjoyed his company more than you would like to admit. It is around 10 pm and you have been stuck at work all night. The only thing getting you through the night was the texts Calum kept sending you asking you to come over because he needs you there. He had been rather flirty with his messages and has been asking you to come over all night. This is a change for you because yes, Calum is smooth and charming and always makes you feel like the only girl in his world but he usually isn’t clingy and soft like he has been tonight. Being a little after 10:30 you are finally caught up with everything at work and ready to get out of this place. It is Friday and it has been such a long week you are beyond exhausted and hungry. You know the smart thing to do is to go home but you keep thinking about Calum and how spending some time in with him would also be nice for a change. Trying to figure out what to do you finally rationalize on going to Calums because one, you haven’t seen him all week and two, you know you were never really going home. You text Calum asking for his address and to tell him you are on the way over. Reaching his house you were nervous. You haven’t been over to a guys house to hang out like this in years and you liked Calum so much. Finally making your way up to the door, you ring the doorbell taking in the house in front of you. You kind of figured Calum was wealthy but this house very nice compared to your tiny apartment downtown. Calum opens the door and your mouth drops. Every time you have seen Calum he was dressed his best always looking like a snack but this was a different kind of snack that you really liked. Calum stood there in front of you with a white shirt and grey sweatpants that left little to your imagination as you looked him up and down. Along with his casual clothing meeting his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t in the mood to go out tonight but the best part about this look was the unruly curls upon his head that you usually seem groomed back into a quiff. A small smile greets his lips as he opens the door and sees you. He pulls you into a full-bodied hug with your face squished against his chest.

“You look pretty in your work clothes” he whispers playing with the hem of your skirt. Replying with a thank you as blush rushed to your cheeks still unable to take a compliment. Calum leads you into his house and right to the living room. You always believed that people's houses told them a lot about them and the same could be said about Calum. It was calm and cozy just like him. There was a piano in the corner along with a couple of guitars set up next to it. As you get comfortable and sit on the couch, Calum goes to grab something to drink for the two of you. You toe off your heels and continue to take the room in. There is some cooking show you have never seen of TV but it was almost on mute, The couch is filled with pillows and blankets and an oversized coffee table sits in front of you. He comes back to the living room two cups in his hands, handing you off a glass of water while plopping down next to you placing his arm on the back of the couch around your shoulders.

“How was your week?” Cal asked tossing his feet onto the table in front of him.

Turning to look at him you reply with a sigh “work has been tough, I had to stay late almost every day this week, so I’m just exhausted” you finish adjusting your skirt to try and get more comfortable in your work clothes hitting yourself in the head for not changing before coming here.

“I’m sorry love, but you’re here now and I have the perfect way to relax” Cal states rubbing your bare thigh before flashing you a wink and him telling you to follow him. Following him up the stairs and to his bedroom at the end of the hall. You sit on the corner of the bed that occupies the center of the room as Calum starts shuffling through a couple drawers of his dresser. He finally finds what he is looking for as he tosses some clothes your way and tells you to change as he points to the bathroom. You follow his instructions and make your way to the bathroom and place the clothes he handed you onto the counter and start to get undressed. You put on the sweatshirt he gave you first and looked at yourself in the mirror. Empathy read across your chest in white letters, the sleeves were quite long on your smaller arms and the sweatshirt fell mid-thigh. Deciding against putting on the sweatpants because you didn’t want to look like a giant blob you exit the bathroom and place your folded clothes on Calums bed. Calum nowhere in sight you make your way back downstairs where you find him sitting in the middle of the couch, leaning forward rolling a blunt with his long fingers. Too engrossed at the project in front of him, Calum did not realize you were done until you come and sit next to him. When he finally looks up at you he doesn’t look away as he licks his lips staring at your bare legs and you being covered in his clothing.

“Why are you looking at me like that” you mutter shyly.

“Wow, uhhh I didn’t think I would enjoy you in my clothes so much,” Cal says putting his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to his side. He places a kiss on your cheek that has lit up from the compliment before going back to finish rolling the blunt. As he is close to finishing he looks over at you as you have been staring at him the entire time and gives you a raised eyebrow as he picks up the blunt to seal it. As his tongue darts out and starts licking from one side to the next you cannot look away and he refuses to back down giving you a tingly feeling in your stomach you smile as he finishes and hands the blunt over too you first. You take it between your fingers and place it in between your lips as Cal comes closer and lights it. You inhale for a moment before letting it fall from your lips and passing it to Calum. Holding it in for a couple of seconds before blowing the smoke out and trying not to embarrass yourself as you feel yourself about to cough. Calum giggles and you the glass of water as he takes another hit. You take a sip of water finally calming down from your coughing fit. You look back over at Calum taking a hit as you watch his cheeks hollow out as he inhales and you never realized how hot smoking was until you saw him doing it. He hands the blunt back to you and you guys go back and forth until it is over and both of your eyes are glossed over as you start to feel relaxed from the weed you just had. You guys would just be sitting there talking about your week and how everything and are a pile of giggles together as you talk.

“I know this isn’t really the best idea for a date but I am glad you came over,” Cal says as his fingers draw shapes on your bare leg.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you say just happy to be comfortable and with him. There was no way you could have gone out tonight.

“I was nervous you would say no to coming over because I knew how tired you were” Cal replies with.

“How could I say no to your begging text though?” you say giggling.

“HEY, I WAS NOT BEGGING” Cal yells as he pouts making his lips more kissable.

“You were kinda begging” you joked giggles still spilling from your mouth.

“Okay that it,” Cal says grabbing you by the hips and pushing you down on the couch crowding your space “I’ll really give you something to laugh about” as he starts tickling your sides. This turns you into a fit of laughter as you finally see the smile return to Calums face.

“NO CAL PLEASE STOP I CAN’T HANDLE IT,” you say as you scurry around trying to get away from his grip.

“Whos begging now?” Cal says as a little smirk greets his face. He finally stops tickling but does not remove his grip from your hips just holding you down on the couch. Finally catching your breath for the second time this evening you look up at Calum to see him admiring your body as your shirt rode up your legs as you were moving around.

“You are so pretty, y/n,” Calum says grabbing your hips and pulling you back up and onto his lap forcing you to face him. Blush covering your face once again you look down smiling at the compliment that he has given you on multiple occasion but still makes you feel like it was the first time. He moves one of his hands to your chin as he raises it forcing you to make eye contact with the beautiful brunette in front of you. “You are even more beautiful when you are blushing” he adds. You try to form words but nothing comes out you don’t know if it is from what Calum was saying or because your mind was foggy but all you could do was smile as your cheeks became a brighter shade of pink. Sitting in Calum’s lap you wrapped your arms around his neck and just started into his gazed eyes not needing to say anything as you admire his beauty.

“You are the pretty one” comes out of your mouth but more as a whisper, it wasn’t for him to hear but something you felt like you needed to say in that moment. Calum chooses not to reply to that comment as he moved her hair off your shoulder and pulled you closer as he started peppering light kisses on your neck. This is the most intimate Cal and you have ever been but you aren’t regretting it as moans start to fall from your mouth as his kisses become rougher and his hands find their way under your sweatshirt and on to your ass. His hands would lazily be grabbing at your ass as he would pull away from your neck leaving one last and a mark where his lips just left. He would lay back against the couch as he looks up at you with a smirk on his lips. You would take this at your chance to kiss him. Pulling at the hair at the back of his neck you would place a kiss against his lips and as you were about to pull away a small whine leaves his mouth that you couldn’t resist. Looking back up to his glassy eyes as they fall shut and pull you into another kiss. The two of you kiss slowly as your hands learn each other's bodies for what seems like an eternity but you also never want it to stop.

“As much as I never want to stop kissing you, I don’t want our first time to be like this” Calum says looking towards his lap as blush colors his cheeks this time. You understand because Cal means more to you than a high hookup. You lift his head as look into his eyes as you kiss him once more before pulling yourself off his lap and back to his side.

“I feel the same way, Cal,” you say and cuddle into his side.

“But please stay to watch a movie and eat something with me,” He says with a question in his eyes. Nodding as your response he takes that as a yes as he grabs his phone to order pizza. You guys smoke a little more and eat pizza while curled up on the couch watching the same cooking show that has been playing the background the entire time. You learn that it is The Great British Baking Show and Calum is very invested in it. You end up falling asleep shortly after the second episode started so Calum throws a blanket over the both of you as he places a kiss on your forehead and falls asleep with you cuddled into his side

tags: @meloncal , @calumhampton , @sassy-asht0n , @irwinkitten , @curlyhairedpopstars , @hoe4hemmo , @monsteramongmikey , @hotmessmichael , @irwinvalentines , @angelmikeyy , @plaidpantsluke , @plainwhiteluke , @talkfastfletcher , @babylonshoodwrites , @irrevocablylukes , @astroashtonio , @qualitylu , @wrappedaroundcal , @allltimehemmo , @catchinqcalum

[mcmaraudonald]

C'est personne

So I worte something. Little Coda for C'est personne in Eliotts Pov. Wrote this before the clips were posted. Hope you enjoy it. !I am not an english native speaker, so excuse my errors.! 

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17714246

Dude. Dude. Dude?

What was that. He thought they had… Something. Eliott just simply didn’t understand. What did he do wrong? The look on Lucas face, it was so different, so closed off. Was it because of his friends? Was he embarrassed? Was it.. Did, did he find out?

His steps came to a stuttering halt in the middle of the corridor. Someone must have told him. Lucas knew, he knew. Little white dots appeared in his line of vision and his stomach constricted. It was too hot, his hands began to sweat. Not again please, please, please. The ringing in his ears got louder and louder. He coudln't do this again. He had to get out of here, his thoughts already racing and running a marathon. If Lucas knew, how many others would too? He let his eyes wander for a second, people starred at him. They knew. No. nononononono. A jagged breath escaped him, and he nearly bolted through the school doors.

As fast as he could he walked to their bus stop. Their? His! His bus stop. Acid taste in his mouth, he felt like he had to vomit. Agonizing minutes ticked by as he waited. His mind all over the place but somehow only focused around one person. For a moment Eliott hoped he would come, he was sure he would. Warm blue eyes would land on him and he could finally calm down, the world would stop moving so fast. He could breath again. That's how it felt with him. All the time it felt like he was on a fucking roller-coaster, staggering out of control without a safety belt. But with him, it slowed. The noises became background music, soft and sweet. He could hear his own mind think clearly, for what seemed like the first time in months. He felt…. He felt. He had feelings and he was so stupid again. He should have known. This whole week he thought about this moment.

How he would return the damn scarf. But nothing went as planned. Well that wasn’t such a big surprise life never ran as planned for him, but in all the different scenarios it never occurred to him that Lucas would be this cold. In his daydreams he always greeted him with his  daring but still somehow shy smile. Blue eyes on him with such an enormous intensity that he simply could not not get lost in them.

What did he do wrong? Did he really read, interpret the situation so wrong? He went through their whole day in his mind. All their conversation, his “how would you draw me?” His eyebrow raise, his proud little smile while he played the piano. He couldn’t have read that wrong? He was so sure that the little piano piece was something Lucas would only share with him. Something special, something promising. This damn piece was even called “ I love you”. That couldn’t have been a coincidence now could it?

When he finally flopped down on his bed, Eliott was tired. So so very tired of thinking. One minute he was sure he imagined it all, their moments, Lucas affection towards him. The other minute he knew even he couldn’t dream something up like this. He starred onto the celling, his phone constantly lighting up the darkening room. How much time had passed? He thought he found a friend in Lucas, Dude. a connection. Someone he could trust, someone he maybe even could rely on. Dude. But what happened today? Was it because he found out? Dude. Or was it simply because of his friends there. Did they all know? Or maybe Lucas didn’t want them to know about him. Dude. But why? Did Eliott corner him? Was it too much? Dude. Dude. Dude. Loud knocking on the door broke him out of his racing thoughts.

“Eliott! Eliott! Are you in here? Please open up!” the voice was laced with worry. Lucille. He could hear the keys jingling as she opened his door. Great, his parents gave her the key. He thought they promised to not do it. But immediately as he saw her, he felt bad. He could see just how worried she really was. “Oh thank god you are here. What happened? Have you lost your phone? I have been calling you for hours!” As soon as she looked at his face, Eliott could see the realization hitting her. “What’s wrong Eli? What happened? Did you take your meds? Have you been smoking again?” Internally he growled, why was she like this. “Fine. Everything is fine.” As soon as he said it, he knew it was in vain. She could read him like an open book. Perks of being his girlfriend for nearly 3 years now. “Stop it Eliott. Talk to me, please.” Why was he so unfair to her? She was nothing but great to him. Maybe too controlling, maybe a little too worried, too decisive. But he deserved that, after last year. She knew him, she thought that she even knew him better than he knew himself. Maybe she was right. But still, when Lucille sat down next to him, he felt as if he would suffocate. He needed room, everything was spinning again, Elliot wanted to get up, but he was just so damn tired of it all. Tired of himself.

“Well your phone at least seemed to work. What does Kiffance mean?" “Hm?” Lucille put an arm around his back an offered him his phone with the other. “Oh just an event from a few people at school.” She sweetly kissed his cheek. “Do you want to go? Or do you want to stay home, I’ll cook us something? What ever you want.” Oh, she knew him so well. In every other situation he would have taken the second offer, hell before last Friday he would have never thought about the first option at all. How could somebody, a person he seemingly didn’t even know, turn his world around in a matter of days? “I’d like to go.” Lucille raised an eyebrow. “You know I should meet new people, you even said it yourself.” A little smile played around her lips as she nodded. Always so understanding. She really deserved better. “But I don’t want to go there alone. Will you join me?” “Of course, Eliott.” A bright smile graced her face, he hadn’t expected anything else.

[connywrites]

gala and delilahs 2

start

'Come on, Leo,' she beckoned from the other side of the phone conversation.

'I wanna see you again. And touch you,' she said in her typical needy voice; he could virtually feel her bedroom eyes from her speaking tone, low and sultry, intending to turn him on.

'The android can join if you want.' Startled with a shocked look in his eyes, he almost dropped the phone.

"That's sick! I'm straight, and besides, that'd be like if I invited your sister in on it when we banged." His mind raced as he considered how nasty she might be if given the chance, deciding to speak before she tried to pull him into something else.

"Forget I said that. Look, I'm really trying to do this for real this time, and I can't do that if you wanna go back to the bar. It's asking for trouble and you know that." His voice held alarm most of all, feeling panicked more than he'd anticipated over the idea. Maybe Markus was right about the suggestion of hanging up before things became too much.

"Besides, I'm not really looking to date right now. All that lovey-dovey shit gets me off track, and this is my life now."

'Who said anything about dating?' There was practically a scoff in her tone, and the realization dawned that he should have known she wanted to meet up for sex.

'I know you're getting better, baby. I am too. It's been months. Don't you want to see me again?' Red flags flared in his mind while she snaked her way in with words, and part of him wished she wouldn't try so hard. Yet he couldn't help still wanting to give her the chance, considering maybe she didn't know better and it was another bad habit she was trying to break - it was hard to tell and he had to give her the benefit of the doubt.

'I know Markus is helping you and all, but aren't you lonely?' The huskiness in her voice made him chew his lip and shift in his seat as the temptation rose to touch himself to her voice, like he did in the motel rooms while she called him on work break- but he couldn't give into that kind of thing anymore, or he'd be under her thumb all over again.

"Keep this up and I'll hang up and block your number. I mean it." She made an ugly sound and suddenly he felt used the same way as he had before.

"If you're calling for sex, you've got a long list for that. I know I'm not special." She went quiet, and he could imagine her infamous pout from where he was.

'Alright. I'm sorry. I guess it's me that's lonely.' Appreciating her honesty, he felt the metaphorical bristles retract while his frustration simmered down, but he reminded himself to keep his guard up.

"I told you, you can come over, but no one's getting naked. I respect this place too much for that. No kissing. Nothing." It almost hurt him to say it, and she knew it too, but they both understood that the way he was setting boundaries was important, and no matter how much she wanted him back, she respected that.

'How do you do it? Stay inside all the time, don't go on dates... I mean, I don't drink as much but I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind without crystal. Aren't you?' Leo laughed.

"I'd need a mind left to lose," he joked, and she responded with one of her usual soft hehs of not finding his self-deprecation funny, but half-laughing so he wouldn't feel awkward or bad in the silence - he was a bit weird like that, and she'd adjusted to work around it.

"For real, it sucks sometimes, but it's not so bad. Dad's place is a lot nicer when I'm living here and not on the streets with an eviction notice, you know?"

'Sure. I thought maybe you'd want some fresh air, but you're doing better than me with the whole thing. Maybe we can meet for lunch sometime?'

"Lunch here," he repeated knowingly.

"Much as I miss the places we went to and the food we ate over at Munchkin's, I made a deal and I'm sticking to it. Plus, Markus cooks good food, you'd be surprised. I know I was." She giggled, and he felt his heart flutter.

'Isn't he supposed to be good at that stuff? I mean...' not wanting to say the wrong thing on the subject, she gave him room to correct her. It was yet again more respect than she'd offered in the past; maybe she really was shaping up, after all.

"Yeah, he's good at a lot of stuff. He cooks, he plays piano, he paints. It's kinda relaxing but I can't do any of that shit." He felt his own ego ache again as he remembered he didn't have any talents.

'That's okay, baby, you don't have to be able to cook or draw to impress anybody. The stuff you're doing on your own is pretty cool.' Blinking, he was struck silent in a moment of thought, unused to hearing any compliments or congratulations - even Markus never granted him that.

"I... what?"

'I know how you feel, Leo. About school or art or whatever. But it's all fake anyway. Your dad had a talent and made good money off of it, but you're not a bad person because you can't.' The urge to cry struck him all over again, but he neglected it, standing up to wander to the kitchen and grab a brownie off the platter.

"... Thanks." He stuffed it in his mouth in a moment of heightened nerves.

'Did you want to try to do the school thing? Like, again, it's totally useless unless you want to go to college or whatever. Is there anything you want to try?' He shrugged, despite conversing to her with voice alone.

"Not really."

'What about the garden? I know you don't like hearing it because it's not manly or whatever, but there's a nursery downtown that's hiring. Maybe you could try there.' Discomfort welled in his chest as the embarrassment crept up on him, letting out a little sigh.

"I don't do gardening."

'You don't have to, but you know your flowers a little bit. Smile and sell a few things, get some air and your own money in your pockets. As much as I know you like mooching off the rich,' she said half-joking, half-serious, 'it can't feel good to rely on it when you're almost thirty.' He cringed at the mention of his age.

"Jeeze, don't remind me. Anyway, I don't know that much, and I can't pronounce half the names anyway."

'See, Leo, that's what's stopping you. You take on a challenge when you want to prove yourself right, but if you think you're wrong, you give up before you try. You can't keep living like that, dude.' Silent, he looked off to the side, leaving the other half of the brownie on the counter as he'd lost his appetite.

"I've tried that shit before. It never works out. Remember my last job?"

'Well I think it'll go smoother if you can think straight, you know.' Leo sighed, pinching his nose in frustration.

"I know. But I've still got a dirty ass criminal file and no experience to back me up. At almost thirty," he snapped, before abruptly regretting it.

"Ugh, I'm sorry, I just don't know if I'm ready for anything like that yet."

'Don't you want to start looking after yourself? You can't rely on that an...er, person, for everything.'

"I know that," he spat, feeling his agitation grow.

"I don't wanna talk about it, okay? It's... still a sore subject and I don't like thinking about it." She paused, and he knew she was debating whether to push it or not.

'Maybe try something easier? Telemarketing is easy, and you're real good at annoying people,' she said with a laugh, though it was a bit awkward as she was never sure if he'd take offense or not. Luckily, this time, he laughed, even if it was pitiful.

"Yeah, I love sitting on my ass all day and harassing people. Look, I'm not worried about it. Yeah, one day I want a car and a job and a dog, live the American dream and all that. But not yet. I'm not that successful and I don’t think I ever will be." He knew she rolled her eyes by the pause.

'Okay, Leo. Take it at your own pace. You're doing a lot already; I just know you can do so much more. You've got time, though.' This time, he let out a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, you too. Look, I gotta go. Call me back later and maybe we can meet up, but just tell me if you wanna come chill. I can like, pay for gas and shit. Well, not me, but you know." She let out a soft giggle, and he felt a bit better already.

'Yeah, don't bust up my car this time and I won't take your money and kick you out. Deal?' There was a grunt and a snort before he laughed this time, proving it was genuine.

"Joke's on you, can't kick me out of my new home or your car. Suck on that."

'Oh, please,' she teased with a purr that made him turn red from his ears to his shoulders.

"A...anyway. Later, Gal."

'Have a good evening, Leo. You can call me back next time, okay? I really did just miss you.' Going silent, he hesitated.

"I miss you too. I'll call you back later. And uh, hey. Thanks."

'Goodnight, Leo.' Pulling the device away from his face, he hadn't noticed the time until she said night, considering the fact it was 8:08. Not any time in particular, and it still only really registered to him as numbers for the most part, but he tried to fathom the idea of 'early night' and what it might mean for someone with a consistent schedule. Glancing at his contacts, gloom loomed over him as he realized all that was left now was her and Markus' number, as he'd lost touch with whoever he'd considered his friends in the past, and deleted Carl's number right after the death. It made his phone look strangely empty, prompting him to swipe it locked and set it aside.

"How'd it go?" He nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw Markus in the doorway, taking a second to catch his breath.

"Don't do that," he told him as if he could help it.

"Sorry. I'll ring a bell next time." Leo rolled his eyes, leaning his weight against the table and drumming his fingers against the surface as he grew antsy.

"Uh, good. Mostly. I dunno. She's doing a lot better, but she's still... trying old stuff, I guess." Markus dipped his head with a respectable nod.

"Well, she was. I shut her down and she knocked it off, and that's... good." Markus respected how strange and awkward Leo must have felt, giving him the space he seemed to need as he stopped a few feet away from him.

"You're keeping your boundaries, then. That's good." Leo's eyes averted to look at the ground as he wiggled in place, another strange habit he seemed to have.

"You're restless, and it's getting late. Are you still trying for a bedtime routine?" Leo sighed, nodding.

"Trying," he parroted for emphasis.

"Laying in bed all night doesn't sound as relaxing as it seems. I don't think I can do that now, there's too much on my mind." Markus accepted his words with no commentary.

"Try some chamomile tea. The kind we have has Valerian root, another natural sedative. Would you like me to make you a cup?" Leo made a face - he'd never liked the taste of hot tea - but was more willing to try than he usually would be. Maybe Markus caught onto that and that was why he asked.

"Sure. Why not. Worst that happens is it doesn't work, right?"

"I think you'll be surprised." Maneuvering around him, Markus headed towards the kitchen to put the water in the kettle to boil.

“Oh, don’t use that,” he said with more sharpness than he intended, prompting Markus to turn around with a confused look.

“I mean. Can you not?” The phrasing was clunky on his tongue.

“The squeal from those things drives me nuts.”

[deviantconnorarmy]

Details: Chapter 1--Family

AN:  I’ve been itching to write some DBH fanfic for days now and I finally got an Idea I felt was worth putting out into the world (That was more than ‘I wanna write about Connor or Markus’) So here you go!!!  (Just tell me if you want tagged!)

Characters: Cecilia Manfred, Markus, Carl Manfred, Leo Manfred

Pairing: Connor x OC

Warnings:  Language.  Oh, and no Connor yet--that should be a warning, too, haha.

Word Count: 3349

Masterlist    Next Chapter --->

Classical music played softly throughout the first floor of the lavishly decorated house, one of its occupants asleep upstairs while the other was at worked cooking a breakfast for two in the kitchen.  She didn’t hear the music, though, because she’d chosen to listen to her own, headphones on and playing songs from roughly two decades ago while she cooked.

Cecilia didn’t have to cook--Markus was her father’s caretaker, but she wanted to help, and this way she could get breakfast ready while Markus went to pick up an order for Carl.  It was more efficient this way.

Once the eggs and bacon were finished, she dished them out onto two separate plates--the over easy eggs with the crisp bacon went on her father’s plate, covered to keep it hot until Markus returned, while Cecilia put the over hard eggs and still chewy bacon on her plate, waiting for the coffee to finish.  She was turning to pour the morning necessity in her father’s fancy silver tumbler and almost collided with a familiar figure in the process.  He was the one who prevented the crash, effortlessly reaching out and stopping her from running into him before coffee could end up everywhere.

Cecilia squeaked, turning off her music and removing her headphones so she could hear.  “Markus!  Don’t scare me like that!”

“I’m sorry, Ceci--I was about to try and get your attention,” Markus apologized, letting his hands drop away from her arms to take the tumbler out of her hands and set it safely on the counter.  “I wanted to tell you I’m back before I wake your father up.”

“All right, well, now I know.  I’ll go get all this set up while you go get him,” she said, gesturing towards the partially prepared breakfast tray.

“You don’t have to do that, I’ve got it,” Markus started to protest, but Cecilia waved him off.

“No, no, I’m capable of taking this to the table, you don't have to do everything by yourself, Markus.  Go wake up Dad, I’ve got this covered.”

Markus gave her a small half-smile, like he’d expected her to tell him no but had asked anyway, turning to head back into the hall.  “All right, we’ll be down in a moment.”

The automatic door slid shut behind Markus, and Cecilia finished getting her father’s breakfast put onto the silver tray, taking it out to the dining room before returning to fetch her own food.  She could hear movement upstairs, and then voices coming closer as she brought her food into the dining room and sat across from where her father usually sat.  Her heels clacked against the floor, apparently announcing her presence since she distinctly heard her name spoken as Markus and her father approached the dining room.

She’d only been sitting down a few moments when her Markus reappeared pushing her father’s wheelchair into the room, the old man’s face being graced with a rare smile as his gaze settled on her.

“Cecilia--what a lovely surprise,” Carl said warmly.

“Hi, Dad,” she returned with a smile of her own.  “I thought I’d stop by this morning before heading to work, see you, help out a little.”

“And get a free meal, too, apparently,” Carl said pointedly as Markus wheeled him into view of the table.  Cecilia chuckled.

“That’s just an added bonus.  If I don’t eat here, I’m going to miss breakfast altogether.”

“Maybe you should get up a little earlier.”

“Says the man who gets up at ten in the morning.”

“I’m old enough to stay in bed as long as I please,” Carl stated, pausing to thank Markus for serving his food.  “You on the other hand, have a job to attend to.”

“I also have flexible hours.  It pays being an independent journalist.  I could have worked out of my apartment if I really wanted to.”

“You’re office at the Stratford Tower is a lot better than your apartment.”

Cecilia waved her fork at her father.  “And I’m going to stop you right there, Dad, cause I already told you, it’s what I can afford, and I’m not taking your money to upgrade to a house or something that I can’t afford yet.  I am a self-sustaining child, thank you.”

Carl chuckled softly under his breath, looking up at Markus, who was standing at ease next to him with hands clasped in front of him.  “Why don’t you find something to do while we finish our breakfast, Markus?”

“Okay, Carl,” Markus said pleasantly, disappearing behind Cecilia as he wandered deeper into the living room.

Piano or chess, Cecilia mouthed to her father, a silent bet.  Carl smirked.

Piano, he returned, and Cecilia cursed.  That was going to be her guess.  So much for that--she’d just keep her money.

Her father chuckled softly, and a few moments later they heard the music start to play through the room.  It wasn’t a regurgitated, to the letter classical piece--not that there was anything wrong with that, Markus played the piano magnificently and it was always a joy to listen to.  This time it was something...intimate.  That was the only word that Cecilia could find to describe it.  Something with deep emotion that was pulling her in.  As soon as she was finished she stood as quietly as possible, coming around the table to retrieve her father so they could both go over and listen to Markus play.

Carl stopped somewhere near the piano bench while Cecilia leaned on the grand piano, watching Markus’ fingers glide across the piano keys and simply...listening.

When the music finally came to its last note, Markus looked up at them, Cecilia recognizing a contemplative look on her father’s face.

“Something has changed in the way you play,” Carl noted.  “Sometimes I think you have more humanity than most humans.”

Cecilia’s eyebrows rose, a slight bob of her head showing her agreement.  Desensitization was real, and it was rampant in humanity from what she could see.

“One day I won’t be here to take care of you anymore.  You’ll have to protect yourself, and make your choices...decide who you are, and wanna become.  This world doesn’t like those who are different, Markus.  Don’t let anyone tell you who you should be.”

Cecilia stared down at the glossy surface of the piano.  She wanted to pipe up and say she would take care of Markus, but the truth was, she didn’t need an android.  If he came to live with her, he wouldn’t have anything to do, really.  She did most of her stuff herself, there wasn’t anyone that needed almost constant watching in her household because it was just fully functionate her.

But she also knew her father was getting older, and wouldn’t be around much longer.  And Markus...well, she didn’t exactly want to see him reset and shipped off somewhere strange, or worse decommissioned and thrown away. When it came to that...if she was being honest with herself, she’d probably end up taking in Markus anyway.  They’d figure something out.

After a few moments of the reflective silence the three of them had fallen into after her father’s words, Carl spoke up again.

“Let’s go to the studio.”

Markus rose from his seat at the piano, moving to steer Carl’s wheelchair while Cecilia walked ahead of them into the studio.  As she entered, all of the lights came on and the curtains drew back, revealing the gorgeous view of the gardens that her father’s art studio had.

She loved it out here, for the view if nothing else.

“Let’s see where we left off--remove the sheet!”  Carl commanded, falling into painter’s mode as Markus did as he was asked and revealed the giant, very blue painting her father was currently working on.  As Carl got to work continuing his project, Markus started to clean up the studio, Cecilia trying to make a move to help him.  She was quickly intercepted.

“No, you’ve got your work clothes on, I’ll clean up in here,” Markus told her patiently.

He had a point.  She didn’t want to accidentally get paint on her work clothes, she needed to look nice, being in media and everything.  So she relented in this instance, stepping back to watch her father put the finishing touches on his painting, then wandering over to his spot on the wall filled with sketches from when he was young and a few amateur drawings from his children.

Cecilia had not inherited her father’s painting skills--her talents lay in other areas.

Markus came to stand by her when he was done cleaning the studio, and she turned to give him a small smile that he returned.  it was then that she finally noticed the tear in his clothes, and a smudge of dirt and dust here and there that indicated he’d been on the ground.

“What happened there?” she asked with a frown, gently touching the rip in his clothes.

“Oh, there were protesters in the street.  It’s nothing, I’m fine,” Markus assured her, turning to head back towards Carl, though the move was partially to get her hand off of the affronted material.  Cecilia’s frown deepened.

“Assholes,” she muttered, reaching over to dust off the smudges.  She couldn’t do anything about the tear.  “Sometimes I really hate people,” she finished with the shake of her head.  Carl was coming back down from his painting by that point, so their conversation ended there.

“So...what’s the verdict?” Carl asked, not looking away from the now completed painting.

Cecilia tilted her head to the side.  “It looks pretty cool, Dad--and no, that’s not a joke about all the blue,” she told him, leaning down to give her father a kiss on the cheek while he rolled his eyes.

Markus was looking at the painting much closer, a thoughtful look on his face, LED blinking yellow to show just how much he was thinking about it.

“Yes, there is something about it...something I can’t...quite define...I guess I like it,” Markus finished with a slight smile.  Carl sighed.

“The truth is, I have got nothing left to say anymore.  Each day that goes by brings me closer to the end.  I’m just an old man clinging to his brushes...”

Cecilia felt a pang go through her at her father’s morbid words, and she placed a hand on his shoulder, fighting the urge to give it a squeeze.

“Carl...” Markus said softly, shifting uncomfortably.  Carl turned his chair to face Markus.

“But enough about me--let’s see if you have any talent!”  Markus stared at Carl, looking a little surprised.  “Give it a try!  Try painting something.”

“Paint, but what would I--painting what?”

“Anything you want!  Give it a try,” Carl encouraged.  The smile that lit up Markus’ face made him look like a kid at Christmas, and Cecilia had to hold back a small giggle, though she let her grin show as Carl handed Markus his palette.  Markus took up position in front of the easel in the corner, casting his gaze around the room for a moment.  His gaze flickered momentarily over Cecilia, among other things, before he turned his attention to the canvas propped up on the easel and started to paint.

Cecilia had to bite on the inside of her cheek to try and hide her initial disappointment as the movements he was making instantly reminded her of an old-fashioned printer.  She’d been hoping for...well, she didn’t know.  What did she expect, he was an android.

Sometimes she forgot that.  It seemed her father did, too.

When Markus finally stepped back it was to reveal an unnervingly accurate painting of Cecilia.  She stepped forward, very conscious of the fact that, as the subject, her opinion was going to have a lot of weight.  She studied the replica of herself on the canvas, accurate to every slight crease in her red blouse and black pencil skirt, the reddish chestnut of her hair, currently pulled up in a bun, was almost captured by the paints--though hers was a color that was probably impossible to replicate with paint, Markus came very close.  Or maybe he was spot on and her human eyes just didn’t know it.  But he’d even managed to get the small mole along her cheekbone, close to her temple, and she was pretty sure she was seeing a reflection of Markus in her hazel blue green eyes.

“That’s extremely lifelike,” Cecilia commented, the surprise starting to wear off as she reminded herself he was an android.

Carl didn’t hold back in expressing disappointment, wheeling forward with a heavy sigh.  “That is a perfect copy...of reality.  But painting is not about replicating the world, it’s about interpreting it, improving on it, showing something you see,” Carl corrected him.  Markus hesitated, looking at Cecilia’s father with doubt in his eyes.

“Carl I don’t...think I can do that, it’s not in my program...I..”

“Go on, go, try, grab that canvas,” Carl interrupted, gesturing Markus towards a fresh canvas.  Cecilia stepped out of the way, curiosity on her face.  She was wondering if Markus was about to get the same painting lesson her father had once tried to give her when she was younger.  Markus gazed at Carl for a moment before doing what he’d asked, standing now uncertainly in front of the blank canvas now that he’d found out his first attempt had not been right.

Carl sighed.  “Do something for me, close your eyes.  Close your eyes.  Trust me,” Carl stressed when Markus still hesitated.  Markus stood facing the canvas, slowly closing his eyes as Cecilia’s father had asked.  “Try to imagine something that doesn’t exist, something you’ve never seen.  Now concentrate...on how it makes you feel.  And let your hand drift across the canvas.”

Markus stood very still for a few moments, and Cecilia had a sneaking suspicion that his LED was going wild out of their line of sight.  For a few agonizing moments all he did was stand there, but Cecilia knew that was all part of the process.  Then, finally, the hand holding the brush rose to the canvas, and Markus began to paint.  This time, even his strokes were different, wide and short, dotting and sweeping, swirling, actually painting in the movements of a human artist instead of that of a printer.  Just like when she’d watched him play, Cecilia was spellbound, fascinated by the transformation happening in front of her, the creativity and emotion that seemed to now be leaking out of the being that 95 percent of the population would say was just a hunk of metal or plastic.

Markus...was different.  An exception to the rule.  Or at least the first sign that such assumptions were wrong.

When Markus finally stepped back, Cecilia couldn’t stop staring.  She could see a bit of her father’s style in the painting, but overall, it was entirely Markus, completely original.  And it was impactful.  An all black background with two pairs of cupped hands in the center, both exactly the same, except one pair was glowing blue, the other red.  It wasn’t that far of a leap to realize the blue hands were belonging to an android with blue blood, the red hands to a human with red blood.

Exactly the same except for the blood.  Understanding, reaching out, equality.  Something in Cecilia’s heart ached, and she thought she felt a burn in her eyes as her gaze shifted from the painting to Markus and back.

“Oh my God...” Carl breathed.

They didn’t get the chance to ask Markus what he’d been thinking about as he drew this, what he intended it to mean and if their impressions were right, no one got to say anything beyond her father’s breath of surprise.  A fourth person had entered the room.

“Hey, dad.”

And instantly, all eyes were on Cecilia’s older half-brother.

“Leo...I didn’t hear you come in,” Carl said in surprise.  Cecilia’s expression puckered as if she’d tasted something sour, out of sight behind her father.  Markus’ posture was cautious, his movements slow and careful.  Cecilia didn’t have to study her half-brother long to see the obvious signs of...well, either a withdraw or he was high, though considering Leo was here at the house it was probably the former.

She wasn’t on good terms with her half-brother, and for good reason.

“Ah, I was in the neighborhood...I though I’d stop by,” Leo said, fidgeting a little excessively.  “It’s been a while, right?”

“You all right?” Carl asked.  Markus was very carefully putting down the palette he’d been holding, like he was readying himself for a confrontation.  Cecilia was, too.  “You don’t look so good.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Leo said dismissively.  “Hey listen, uh...I need some cash, Dad.”

And there it is.

“Again?  What happened to the money I just gave you?” Carl asked.  He was officially showing close to the same level of wariness Markus and Cecilia weren’t bothering to hide.

“Uh...well, it jus-it just goes, you know?”

Carl gave a humorless laugh.  “Yeah...yeah, you’re on it again, aren’t you?”

“No...no, no, I swear, it’s not that.”

“Ah, don’t lie to me, Leo--”

“What difference does it make?  I just need some cash, that’s all!” Leo shouted, finally snapping.  A heavy silence fell over the room.

“I’m sorry.  The answer’s no,” Carl answered firmly.

“What?  Why?”

“You know why!”

Leo’s gaze flickered towards Markus.  “Yeah...yeah, I think I do no why.”

Oh, hell no.

“You’d rather take care of your plastic toy here than your own son, eh?” Leo taunted, gaze now riveted on Markus.  Cecilia let go of the back of her father’s chair, slowly walking towards Leo as Leo stalked closer to a still Markus.

“Tell me, dad, what’s it got that I don’t?  It’s smarter?  More obedient?  Not like me, right?” he spat, venom in his words.  Markus stood calmly, LED blue, but judgement in his eyes.  “Buy you know what?  This thing is not your son.  It’s just a fucking machine!” Leo shouted, shoving Markus back.

“Leo, that’s enough!”

“Hey, back off, now!”

Carl and Cecilia both yelled at the same time, though Cecilia got between Leo and Markus, shoving Leo back from Markus.  She was on heels, and she was no athlete, but she was still going to put herself between Leo and Markus if Leo was going to get violent.

“Enough,” Carl repeated with finality, fixing Leo with a stern gaze.  Leo scowled, gaze flickering to the painting Markus had just finished.

“You don’t care about anything except yourself and your goddamn paintings.”

Actually, that one was Markus...quite the compliment, though, under any other circumstances, mistaking Markus’ painting for Dad’s.

“You’ve never loved anyone.  You never loved me, Dad.  You never loved me.”

On that harsh note, Leo finally left.  Markus, Carl, and Cecilia were quiet for a moment before they finally moved, Carl bending over in his chair with a sigh and Markus looking on worriedly.  Cecilia bent down in front of her father, a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you all right, Dad?” she asked in concern.

“I’m fine,” he said heavily, shaking his head.  “You should get going--you’ll be late for work.”

Cecilia wanted to argue on principle, but he was right--she had work she needed to get done, especially since she planned on attending the cocktail party later with her father.  She was going to write a short little piece on the party to balance out some of her more serious topics on her news website and radio show.

Cecilia gently squeezed his shoulder.  “All right...I’ll see you later, Dad.  I love you.”

Carl gave her a tight smile--he was well aware she was putting emphasis on that last part because of Leo’s outburst, but she didn’t care--he needed to hear it right now.

Before she left, she paused next to Markus, giving his shoulder a squeeze as well, and flashing him a small smile.  Then she left, her thoughts buzzing with Markus’ painting and Leo’s intrusion.

Next Chapter --->

[icharchivist]

perso-rant underneath and at first i intended it to be more light hearted but welp cant dive into myself without digging the bad stuff so just ignore this as rambling.

(idk if the cut works on mobile so as usual blacklist #ichapersonal to skip it , its quite long)

its night and im noisy and all but yknow part of the reason m/lb is such a healing show for me and i rewatch it every couple of days?

i cry everytime M.arinette's family is on screen pretty badly bc i get so envious all the time. i hate my shitty family (and often can relate to A.drien's ressentment) so just seeing such a /healthy/ family being often shown litterally brings me to tears. im like C.hat in the animan episode when he stares at the family picture with a sweet smile (another detail that stupidly make me cry who allowed th i s)

like. i dont relate to A.drien's relation to his family but some of the emotional effects is often a moment of "welp. mood." and being kinda sad /for him/ even if i can feel it for myself too. but then with M.arinette's family everytime they get to be on screen i realize how happy this sort of dynamic makes me and it makes me /so envious/.

like my mom is an artist and an excellent cook but she always barred those interests from me bc it was /hers/ and it was for /her ego/ and this attitude just killed every curiosity i had and remplaced it with a complete unability to care.

i used to bake as a kid but my mom was always shutting down everything i was doing, and if i was asking for help or recieps she would just tell le "it's a secret just watch " and never letting me know tf she was doing so i stopped lmao. everytime ive tried meals since it was only for myself and with a hard mocking from family and mom saying she had a better recieps and i should just let her do so i dont even try it often. (moreeven now that the kitchen is opened to the living room and they're super judgemental when im in it)

i was messing with drawings and paints in her workshop when i was a kid but she would always point out flaws and take my tools to correct it without telling nor showing me how and it killed it, it took me until my 14yo to start doing mindless doodles and then my breakdown when i was about 20 to seriously try back to draw and do art and try different tools (until my right hand made it impossible for me to hold a tool and the failure still feels yknow)

i wanted to sew things and make clothes (at the time for my dolls) but my mom was never letting me touch the tools (that we HAD since not only she made clothes but her mom actually had a fabrique shop. like. right next door. i think it became part of my mom's trauma hating her mom and refusing us to connect with her, more so with what happened when i was 7 and we lost contact with them but still, the damn irony. and i cant remember if my grandma ever let me close her sewing material but i was a damn kid after all) so this is another thing i didnt pursue

i wanted to pick up music (piano mostly) bc my uncle is a musician but my parents never wanted to invest in that because they already gave a piano to my sister (that i wasnt allowed to use) so ye that was dropped lmao

and i started to write when i was about 11 and it was that /one thing/ i didnt need help for from anyone, completely self taught, with my own ways and tools, and my parents were always dismissive of it, never listening to me, always telling me it wasnt important, that i should focus on something else, and after other circumstances that added to that i dropped writting around my 17/18yo and it had been painful to even try to write again since.(i came back to writing around my 20yo a bit before my breakdown but after it happened it started to die out and i felt exhausted and stopped after a few months and since then i've never been able to pick up writing again ay.)

(and im not touching the obsessive elements bc like- the fact she does it for her crush makes it different, but the sort of things she does? taking pictures and putting them everywhere in her room when she hyperfixates, making overcomplicated schedules and such? i litteraly do that with fiction. i made a freaking timeline for this show. i am currently working on organizing codex from d.a and an approval guide for christ sake. and im not talking about my multiple fandom shrines in my room and the fact i legit have one for m/lb made from pictures found on merchs.

or also the fact i have a lot of passions i'd love to share and seeing M. play video games with her dad for exemple makes me so bitter when all i get is backhanded insults from my parents when i bring it up.)

So sometimes i see M. and part of me is just in awe, loving everything about her. the other part of me tho... i feel... a bit robbed? like she's such a creative kid, she's incredible and she inspires me everyday, and i cant help but think how i would have adored her when i was a kid. (im not even kidding, as a kid i requested my mom a costume of black cat for h.alloween and a l.adybug costume for the carnaval. i have pictures of that at my dad's place sadly it kills me. also my room when i was a kid used to be covered with l.adybug stickers like. HELL my mom doesnt care about my interests but last year she bought me a M/LB winter callendar (bc its been years i was mentioning i wanted one, a selfish whim but oh well) and i had a huge double take bc i was certain she didnt remember me talking about this show- and she did not. when i asked her why, she legit told me "because she reminded me of you as a kid with your pigtails your obsession for l.adybugs". like!! i cant even stress how kid!me would have adored this show and especially LB./M.) (the pigtails too this time i have proofs around there i used to carry them all the time until i was bullied for it at school. (bullying at school instead of good friends also adds to the difference in question tbh lmao))

there is something so... weird into seeing the parts of yourself that you cut yourself from in a character, and see that the main difference is because of how the family (and bullies) treated those elements so drastically differently.

my family was always neglectful but differently than A.. the things i relate to with him is how he specifically still holds on hope that his father will do better at least just for one day and his reaction when he's left down saying he's just used to it. and like normal, not every kind of abuse are the same and all but i still relate enough to feel sad.

but M. is always a whiplash of feelings like i could have been this sort of girl in a better environment.

at 13/14yo she was already making stuff up, baking, designing clothes, doing art, she was doing so many things, even forgetting the superhero part. she was being happy being a creator at her pace and with encouragement. at 13/14yo i was starting to show concerning signs of d.epression because i was trying to handle my parents's divorces and the multiple trials that followed that /i/ had to handle by finding middle grounds, allowing some of my father's blackmail to avoid worse, and by litterally having to collect infos from mails everytime to prove against some of his arguments to the judges. and my sister refusing to talk to us for a year, which caused us basically to feel very bad thinking of the eldest sister who ran away from home, and having to handle my father's harrasment and emotional abuse of constantly belittling me (fuck this was the age he legit told me i would probably end up a p.rostitute so ye!!! fuck that!!!) andd the fact my mom was also falling apart from all of it on me and i was always supposed to cheer her up while i was having a hard time in a new school and new environment away from the very few friends i had and again feeling abandonned by my sister which freaking sucks after already had suffered that from our eldest one.

but M. makes me cry every. goddam. rewatch. its like maybe the ultimate wish fufilling story of just how i would have loved my family to be. of how i think i could have turned up.

and that realization hits so badly everytime.

there's a thing with my hyperfixations where i'll always find a way to tie it back to my traumas. i dont know if im pulling straws, or if the things are there. for having watched m.lb when it came out unfazed and only got hit with that realization upon rewatching- i feel it was more me realizing "there is something there that is touching me more than before" and having an introspection to get it.

and i think the difference is that- before my breakdown the characters and stories i related to where the eternal optimistic-yet-damaged "never give up!" type of characters. When things started to go downhill to my breakdown and since then the fictions that talked to me the most were all dealing with guilt coming from toxic environment that werent your fault per se but you pierceved that way. my way to relate were to characters who felt deeply connected to their guilt (peak being c.loud of f.f7 that even topped it with the deadly skin disease making him lose will to live (because ye that happened. still hate to watch out for that so ye), and memories issues, you would have told me at 13yo when i first watched that movie that this would be what i would relate to him about 7 years later i would have laughed at your face.), which translated with pushing people away and self destructing habits.

and i know i watched m.lb the first time around that time, when i was 20/21. and that may be why i didnt feel that. that my concerns were too elsewhere to realize that. That i was too focalized on how i felt like i failed by suddenly breaking under the pressure, having all the things i've kept burried kicking me out at once, and that i couldnt afford to be a burden to anyone. and it translated with me loving characters like that because in most cases their friends ended up reminding them of what was important - and sometimes just getting frustrated about your fav being as dumb as it forces you to pull yourself back together lmao. not always working but it was there.

now im 23. i cut ties with my father for about 3/4 years now, with all the shitty things that ensued out of the last trial where he sued me and his still-happening harrasment (sometimes silly sometimes scary). My mom and step dad are suffocating me more and more everyday. my health had become so disastrous i cant even manage to go school or find a job. And more than ever im frustrated and angry.

and i think it may be a shown of recovery? perhaps linked to therapy? of while i still have guilt of falling apart- /they/ are the reason i fell apart. and I'm yet to have proper apologizes for it. i grew furious at my family. of how much i feel robbed.

lately im so angry at everything i lost, was taken of, stolen childhood all of that- because of my parents, mainly. (hell even the bullying at school - in primary school it apparently started bc of gossips about why my eldest sister ran away from home, and in middle school it was first bc my parents insisted on sending me to private school where i was an outcast. which then had me truly embrassing the outcast persona that had made it impossible for me to be at peace in the two others middle schools i went to. highschool saved my social life tbh).

i think it's therapy and recovery that is making me shift the blame and feel so angry at them. so bitter. and suddenly i see in an innocent kid show a "what could have been". same starting personality, different people to channel this.

and this is. frustrating.

but it makes me love it even more. idk if its driving anything else than ressentment but at least for the time of an episode I'm in a bubble of a.lternative universe where i can forget about my life and feel satisfied at once.

like finding a piece of myself that i deliberately broke and burried to never think about it again, and realize far later how it missed to the whole, and how damaged this piece is now, but still is.

and there is something incredibly healing about that. i would never have thought there would be this much healing out of this anger and yet satisfaction. what a strange feeling.

fiction is funny that way. the things people can get out of it to deal with their own psyche are so different one person to the next.

it's just so weird for me to go from "i relate to the horrors this character went through" to "and fuck those horrors. let me think about what could have been if this didnt happen."

even moreso knowing i had this piece of fiction before and didnt approach it that way. there's a time and a mindset for everything. apparently now was the best mindset for me huh

.......

so ye apparently i cant like something like a normal person and have to go on about how it connects to my deeply rooted traumas lmao.

anyway it's been eating me up for weeks now and it's 4:45am i have absolutly no impulse holding me back. if you sat through this piece of work im sorry. just needed it to get it out of my chest.

i'll go back to hugging my cheap-yet-lifesaving c.laire's l.adybug pillow now

good night o/

[raisingsupergirl]

A New Age Dawning

I once met a Freemason who said he changed his career ever seven years, a concept he based on the seventh sabbatical year of the Old Testament. And it wasn’t like he moved to a different position within the same career field. He made drastic changes: professor, salesman, laborer, etc. And in different parts of the country, too. At first, I thought he was lying. Then I thought he was running from something. But in the end, I envied him. We only get one life, so why spend it working toward a singular goal, no matter how grand? Why not reinvent yourself? Who wouldn’t jump on the chance to be reborn? And that idea stuck with me in a subtle way until I ran across it again in my Bible reading about a year ago. The year of Jubilee, it’s called. A year in which all debts are forgiven, all land is returned to its original owners, and everyone starts anew. Once every seven years. And do you know what’s a multiple of seven? Thirty five, which is exactly what I was going to be turning the next year. And not a moment too soon. You see, my life has been a series of seven-year “ages” in which I’ve grown and found new exciting experiences, but at the end of each age, I become anxious, bogged down with mundane frustration until I finally burst through into some new adventure. And like any good adventure, mine started with the First Age…

The First Age: Ignorance (0-7)

The first seven years of my life are my mobile home memories. A little trailer home on Dorlac Road. Avoiding cactuses in our dirt basketball court. Digging through overgrown lily pads and cattails to get to our fishing hole. Going to daycare with the lady who played the piano and the man who threw a fake duck to his Golden Retriever. And family. So much family. The four of us boys crammed onto the broke-down couch and drawing funny faces on TV Guide pictures. Mom cooking a four-pound meatloaf to feed us. Watching my older brothers play Zelda and Punch Out and Techmo Superbowl. Going fishing at the Mississippi river with Grandpa Winch. Watching baseball with Grandpa Collins. Playing Ninja Turtles and Dungeons & Dragons with my cousins. Being mad when everyone went to Grandma’s and had chicken pox, but I wasn’t allowed to go and have any for some reason. You see, Grandma was the BEST cook, and I was SURE Chicken Pox were delicious. Because at that time, I didn’t understand it. Any of it. All lights and colors and awe-inspiring mystery. But when I turned eight, my parents began taking us to this other place. A spot in the woods. And we started cutting down those woods, clearing a space big enough for a castle. And men came out and blew up the ground, making a big hole. Walls went up. So many walls. And then mom said I had to start going to school. Away from my family. Away from everything I knew. But there was one thing I knew then: Fear.

The Second Age: Innocence (7-14)

I remember my first night in the new house. How could anyone keep from getting lost in such a place. It was so dark, quiet, and cavernous. I got a cat soon after that, and he felt the same way. Skittish, hidden, afraid. I named him Kitty. Kitty was my first real pet, and he was one of my closest friends through that Second Age. But slowly, something started to happen within me. I started to realize that the new house wasn’t scary. The new house was warm, solid, enduring, safe. Even the woods around us were peaceful and inviting. Our pond didn’t have any lily pads or cattails. But it did have catfish. Huge ones. And they bit best at night on doughballs. The deepest parts of the woods had caves and bluffs and creeks. And I could wander as long as I wanted without a watch or a compass, and somehow I’d always end up back at home just before dark.

School wasn’t so bad, either. I was nice to the kids, and they were nice back. I even made some friends who lived within bike-riding distance. I think Greg and Zach were the first. They were older, but they lived on the same gravel road. And they liked cards. Not the boring ones that my brothers liked—the ones about sports. No, these new cards had superheroes on them. And some of them were games that let you BE a superhero and fight against your friends’ superheroes. They brought my Saturday morning cartoons to life, and my love for fantasy and imagination started to blossom. I met Brandon next. He was a new kid on the bus, and he had a cool toy. He became my best friend for many years. Together we explored the wilderness, conquered the FIRST Warcraft game, and discovered girls. And as I approached the end of the Second Age, a dark, hormonal shadow spread over my life of innocence.

The Third Age: Independence (14-25)

Middle school. I shouldn’t have to explain further, but I will. My friends grew armpit hair, and I didn’t. My friends made the basketball team, and I didn’t. My friends paired up with girlfriends, and I didn’t (except that one time when Elizabeth Stroble let me cut in the lunch line by her). I found purpose in football, and I found God at Bates Creek church camp. A girl said she liked me in high school, so I started dating her. Then she cheated on me with my previously-mentioned best friend. It was then, at the peak of puberty’s angst, that I first felt heartbreak. I forgave them both and remained friends with them. I then met some more lifelong friends of the most interesting kind—skaters. There was something about them that I identified with. Not the skating (I lived on a gravel road, remember?). But they were honest, raw, adventurous, unafraid. A little broken, but also honest and loyal. And they all had the best senses of humor. I was friendly toward everyone in high school (even nominated for “most congenial”), but it was with those skaters that I learned to really push the boundaries of my reality.

This epic Age, extending through college to a couple years beyond, was the most adventurous and transformative of my life. There’s so much to tell. My first drink of alcohol (a “hey, mister” bottle of Jack Daniels in the back of my friend’s van). Wild parties that ALWAYS ended with deep conversations. Cruising the strip in my red 1995 Camaro. A heart-wrenching breakup with my second girlfriend, which left both mental and physical scars. Finding true peace in my empty college bedroom with a cup of tea, a candle, and my first copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. And then finding my love of reading, writing, and LEARNING. Education was a concept that had been forced down my throat throughout school, so I never realized I actually LOVED learning new things until it became an option. But it wasn’t long into my college career when I started devouring philosophy, history, religion, and fantasy of all kinds. And then I met my future wife in a bowling alley, and everything changed. She wasn’t from my hometown. She didn’t know any of my family or my childhood friends. She had no interest in fantasy books or emo music. She was an enigma and an emotional mess. And she was perfect. From that point on, I plowed through the middle of the Third Age. My future wife graduated from college, I graduated the following year, and that summer, I passed my Boards, married the love of my life, went on my first vacation outside of the country (a blissful honeymoon to Cancun), and moved from Missouri to Virginia Beach to start my first “adult” job as a physical therapist. And just like that, I found myself sitting on a beach next to my wife, 1,000 miles from home.

It’s odd that it would take getting married to feel true independence. But college was just an evolution of high school. And in Virginia, the only person I knew was my wife, and I barely knew her. So as you can imagine, the next couple of years were hard. I had no big brothers or parents to show me how things were done. No friends to vent to. No familiar pets or woods to feel perfectly at home. No, this was an entirely new adventure for my new wife and me. We fought, we cried, we kissed, we fought some more, and we didn’t think we were going to make it. And then, one night after my shift at Busch Gardens Howl-o-Scream (yes, I moonlighted as a 6’5” axe-wielding zombie), I received a call. Well several calls, actually. And all of them said I needed to call home. Dad had been in a car accident. He was dead.

The next year was a blur. The darkest of my life. Gray. That’s all I remember. Grayness, confusion, doubt, hopelessness. I felt overworked and underqualified at a miserable job surrounded by immaturity, manipulation, and spite. I let the unresolved depression from losing my father destroy my relationship with my wife. And finally, at my wits end, I dragged said wife back home to Farmington (not my WIFE’s home, mind you. And that fact plagued our relationship for many years). Thus ended our time at Virginia Beach and the longest Age of my life.

The Fourth Age: Interlude (25-28?)

If the Third was the longest age, the Fourth was the shortest. From twenty-five to twenty-eight, in the wake of tragedy and what felt like betrayal, I slipped back into the comfort of things I knew. I found healing in writing—transforming memories and ideas into worlds and adventures that couldn’t harm me the way the real world had—and I was actually good at it! I also started work at my hometown clinic with my physical therapy mentor, which meant I was suddenly surrounded by people who knew everything about me. They UNDERSTOOD me. They comforted and uplifted me. For that I am forever grateful. But my dependance on the past also nearly broke the bond my wife and I had begun to forge in Virginia. She was jealous that I was home. I was jealous that she still had both parents. But slowly, after a lot of tears and a few broken pieces of furniture, we found each other again. There was no single epiphanous moment, but the defining word between us was commitment. Commitment to God and commitment to each other. Life started regaining some of its color, and I started trusting again. And then, after coming home from a hunting trip with my brothers one weekend, my wife told me she was pregnant.

The Fifth Age: Inquisition (28-35)

Gosh, what a whirlwind. My daughters’ stories are written in detail on this blog, so I won’t rehash them, but talk about nonstop adventure! In some ways, this has been the best Age of my life, but as I neared its end, the horizon again grew dark.

You see, through earlier tragedy and hardship, I had developed an, “If it is to be, it’s up to me,” mentality. Mostly because there were some unfortunate things that I couldn’t control but there were so many that I could. And it seemed like anything I really set my mind to was attainable. I’d landed my dream job. I’d also written novels, and those novels were getting closer and closer to publication. But slowly, my dream job became a monotonous chore, and my fledgling writing career started hitting one dead end after another. To the point where my literary agent finally broke ties, and after writing five novels, I didn’t have the strength to write another one. And tragically, I let those facts define me.

Of course, it’s such a tragedy because I was finally living a fruitful life with my wife and two super girls! On top of that, I’d become a freemason and met more lifelong friends, and toward the end of the Age, I’d embarked on a nearly year-long introspective journey with five other Christian men. But none of that mattered because I didn’t know who I was. I’d failed at writing, my “day job” became a drain on my spirit, and no matter how much I tried, there didn’t seem to be an end in sight.

And here we are. On the cusp of a new age. Last week, I finished my last meeting with those five amazing Christian men, and they have saved me. Truly. Well, they have helped me back to God’s purpose in my life: Achieving Adventure. Before that, I was dying inside, and I didn’t know why. I HAD to achieve something. ANYTHING (as if a wife, kids, and a successful career weren’t enough). But the ruts were so deep that finding a new path felt impossible. Too late in the game. Another has-been who had come so close but ultimately wasted all of his God-given potential. Talk about a classic mid-life crisis. And then came those 6 a.m. meetings. The conversations will likely fade into distant memory, but the effects will stay with me forever. Those men helped me realize what I’ve been chasing my whole life: adventure, exploration, the unknown. I LOVE learning, remember? I love growing. Not achieving, just growing. And the energy that burst from that realization has pushed me out of my ruts. It’s renewed my passion for physical therapy to the point where I’ve landed a promotion that promises new adventures. And my passion for writing, though still not quite renewed, is starting to flicker in my soul again. I have my strongest manuscript back in my hands, professionally edited and full of potential. Even if it’s never published, I will soon dive back into that adventure of my own creation. And that’s not all.

Next week I will attend my final meeting as Master of Farmington Masonic Lodge #132, and I will thank those Freemason brothers for an amazing five-year adventure that I will forever be grateful for. On that same day, I will celebrate the ribbon cutting of a new physical therapy clinic, and I will act as it’s clinic coordinator. Soon, my family and I will move to a new home—a place with explorable woods and a blank canvas of possibility.

The Sixth Age: Untitled

I have no clue what this Sixty Age will bring. I don’t know how many more Ages I’ll get to experience after that. But as I write this, I find myself smiling. The mystery fuels me, and my anxiety finally feels more like excitement again. I’m on a new adventure, and I get to take it with my three best friends: my wife is more of a trusted and true co-pilot than ever, my nearly four-year-old is in the midst of her blissful Age of Ignorance, and my seven-year-old is on the cusp of her own Second Age! What a time to be alive.

I’m about to enter the Sixth Age, friends. Another chapter of my life. And I can’t wait to share the adventure with you.