#I think I've gotten a similar question about clothing in the past that I never answered (sorry) so yeah this applies to that as well

[serpentface]

how do you come up with the ways cultures in your setting stylize people/animals/the world in general in their artwork, i.e. jewlery, rock carvings, statues, etc? Each culture in your world seems to have a very unique "art style" and I love it a lot - makes them seem that much more 'real'. This is something I struggle with a lot in my own worldbuilding and I'd love to pick your brain if possible 😁

I think a starting point is to have a research process based in the material realities of the culture you're designing for. Ask yourself questions like:

Where do they live? What's the climate/ecosystem(s) they are based in? What geographic features are present/absent?

What is their main subsistence method? (hunter gatherer, seasonal pastoralist, nomadic pastoralist, settled agriculturalist, a mix, etc)

What access to broader trade networks do they have and to whom? Are there foreign materials that will be easily accessible in trade and common in use, or valuable trade materials used sparingly in limited capacities?

Etc

And then do some research based on the answers, in order to get a sense of what materials they would have routine access to (ie dyes, metal, textiles, etc) and other possible variables that would shape how the art is made and what it's used for. This is just a foundational step and won't likely play much into designing a Style.

If you narrow these questions down very specifically, (ie in the context of the Korya post- grassland based mounted nomads, pastoralist and hunter-gatherer subsistence, access to wider trade networks and metals), you can direct your research to specific real world instances that fit this general idea. This is not to lift culturally specific concepts from the real world and slap them into your own setting, but to notice commonalities this lifestyle enforces - (ie in the previous example- mounted nomadic peoples are highly mobile and need to easily carry their wealth (often on clothing and tack) therefore small, elaborate decorative artwork that can easily be carried from place to place is a very likely feature)

For the details of the art itself, I come up with loose 'style guides' (usually just in my head) and go from there.

Here's some example questions for forming a style (some are more baseline than others)

Are geometric patterns favored? Organic patterns? Representative patterns (flowers, animals, stars, etc)? Abstract patterns?

Is there favored material(s)? Beads, bone, clay, metals, stones, etc.

When depicting people/animals, is realism favored? Heavy stylization? The emotional impression of an animal? Are key features accentuated?

How perspective typically executed? Does art attempt to capture 3d depth? Does it favor showing the whole body in 2 dimensions (ie much of Ancient Egyptian art, with the body shown in a mix of profile and forward facing perspective so all key attributes are shown)? Will limbs overlap? Are bodies shown static? In motion?

Does artwork of people attempt to beautify them? Does it favor the culture's conception of the ideal body?

Are there common visual motifs? Important symbols? Key subject matters?

What is the art used for? Are its functions aesthetic, tutelary, spiritual, magical? (Will often exist in combination, or have different examples for each purpose)

Who is represented? Is there interest in everyday people? Does art focus on glorifying warriors, heroes, kings?

Are there conventions for representing important figures? (IE gods/kings/etc being depicted larger than culturally lesser subjects)

Is there visual shorthand to depict objects/concepts that are difficult to execute with clarity (the sun, moon, water), or are invisible (wind, the soul), or have no physical component (speech)?

Etc

Deciding on answers to any of these questions will at least give you a unique baseline, and you can fill in the rest of the gaps and specify a style further until it is distinct. Many of these questions are not mutually exclusive, both in the sense of elements being combined (patterns with both geometric and organic elements) or a culture having multiple visual styles (3d art objects having unique features, religious artwork having its own conventions, etc).

Also when you're getting in depth, you should have cultural syncretism in mind. Cultures that routinely interact (whether this interaction is exchange or exploitation) inevitably exchange ideas, which can be especially visible in art. Doing research on how this synthesizing of ideas works in practice is very helpful- what is adopted or left out from an external influence, what is retained from an internal influence, what is unique to this synthesis, AND WHY. (I find Greco-Buddhist art really interesting, that's one of many such examples)

Looking at real world examples that fit your parameters can be helpful (ie if I've decided on geometric patterns in my 'style guide', I'll look at actual geometric patterns). And I strongly encourage trying to actually LEARN about what you're seeing. All art exists in a context, and having an understanding of how the context shapes art, how art does and doesn't relate to broader aspects of a society, etc, can help you when synthesizing your own.

[0perfectimperfections0]

I think it would be interesting if you'd made an au where the dolls see that they have also wronged Lou and should of given him a 2nd chance. So they now try to earn his trust. From styling his hair to how it originally was and giving him more comfortable clothing to trying to talk to him more. But it's very hard to do so because the former leader is now depressed, anxious, and jumpy. He closes himself off and vows to never trust any doll ever again.

And maybe another au where Lou is very smart and manipulative and everything goes his way.

Btw I love your fics, I've searched everywhere to find good Lou angst and you make my day. Thank you for keeping the fandom alive.

Awww, you're so sweet! I'm glad you enjoy the stories! I've also heard you've found my friend @natalie-the-writer 's account. Her stories are absolutely AMAZING! She has such amazing attention to detail and can make any scene feel so real in your imagination. If you haven't already, I HIGHLY recommend reading through all of her stories on her profile. They're awesome!

And since I've gotten an ask similar to the latter portion of your ask, this one will revolve around the former prompt. Brace yourself, this will be longer (for the first time in forever XD).

<><><><><><>

The dolls prided themselves in how fluidly everything seemed to be running at the Institute. It was like Ox had said: they didn't need Lou. From an outside perspective, everything seemed to be going about splendidly. More importantly, everyone was happy.

Moxy hummed a made-up tune to herself as she walked down the winding sidewalks of the villa. Dolls -- with happy smiles, she was pleased to note -- waved and offered their own greetings as they swept by each other. She found her best friend, Mandy, and hopped in front of the doll's path with an enlightened expression. "Hey, Mandy!"

"Hi," the female offered a small smile of her own. "Have you seen Nolan anywhere? I haven't been able to find him."

Nolan. Did she know a Nolan? There were so many dolls that it was difficult to remember all of their names. Mandy must have caught on to her perplexed face because she soon elaborated. "Has the sign around his neck? Brown hair? Green and purple eyes? Kinda tall?"

For such a specific description, Moxy would've thought herself to be quick with a revelation. Unfortunately, that description didn't fit any of the dolls she had grown to be close friends with in the past few months. "Mmm, sorry. I don't think I know a Nolan." She admitted guiltily. "But!" She swung a short leg out to proceed in the direction Mandy had been going in, "I can help you find him!" Then she would know who Nolan was and all would be splendid again.

Mandy accepted the offer silently and walked in what seemed to be an aimless direction. However, she had a specific destination in mind. Nolan had mentioned a few times in conversation about a certain doll that she'd rather not bring up in front of...well, anyone else. So, unbeknownst to Moxy, Mandy had them set toward the old wooden shed near the back of the Institute. Now that she dwelled on it, they hadn't seen Lou in quite some time.

Her theory proved fruitful when she recognized the brunette outside of the abandoned shed. Abandoned to others, not to Lou. Moxy's pace slowed down to a stop even as Mandy proceeded on. "The shed? Why would Nolan be here?" Her question wasn't answered. Mandy didn't really have a sound answer to it either.

Nolan had made his vigil just outside the closed door. He sat on the ground, knees drawn to his chest to rest his head on, and back pressed against the door. There was a plate of food set beside him. Mandy's footsteps caught his attention before he could say anything. Quickly, he put a finger to his mouth to warn her to be quiet. His eyes went to Moxy as she finally walked closer. "What are you guys doing here?" He asked, keeping his voice just above a whisper.

"Looking for you," Mandy answered. "What are you doing here?"

Nolan cast a short glance at the plate of food beside him. It had grown cold, now. "No reason. Maybe I like the peace and quiet." Mandy shook her head and sat down on the other side of the plate. She tapped a piece of bacon experimentally.

"I'm guessing this wasn't for you." Nolan didn't respond. "How many days has it been?"

"Five. Six, if you count today." Nolan sighed.

"What are we counting?" Moxy tilted her head at them.

The Pretty Dolls exchanged glances. Mandy spoke. "How many days it's been since Lou came out of the shed."

"He hasn't been cleaning?" Moxy looked taken aback.

"You haven't noticed he hasn't been around?" Nolan's eyes went a little hard at that. It was the closest to a glare Mandy had seen him pull off. Moxy stuttered out an excuse of some sort, but he brushed it off. "You two can go. He doesn't like having so many people around. It's just been me for the past week."

"How did you know he was locked up in the shed?" Moxy asked. Had she missed a sign or something? Were the other dolls talking about him? She hadn't heard a single mention of the blond since his downfall.

Nolan visibly refrained from rolling his eyes. Instead, he flicked at an imaginary piece of lint on his knee. "Well, he doesn't exactly have the looks to blend into the background. He stands out pretty well on his own." There was an audible bite to his tone that Mandy silently acknowledged and Moxy took no note of. "I came here the first day I noticed he was missing. The door's been locked and he put a tarp over the window to keep from anyone looking inside."

"Maybe he's plotting something," Moxy brought a hand to her chin in thought.

The brunette tried not to bristle at that comment. He closed his eyes, eyebrow raised indignantly. "Like I said, you two can leave. I've managed to get him to unlock the door and I don't need anyone undoing all that progress."

"If the door is unlocked, why don't you just go in?" Mandy blinked up at the potential entryway.

"Because I want him to be the one to open the door. This is the only place he can go without being pushed around by the other dolls -- in case you haven't noticed that either." Nolan sent a look over to Moxy. She shrunk a bit under the tone. "This is his safe place now, and I don't want to intrude on it. If I'm going to make any progress, I need him to be the one to let me in."

Moxy drummed her fingers against her side, eyeing the door that could easily be walked through. "You make it sound like he's scared or something. I'm sure he's just sitting in there pouting and refusing to carry out his punishment." Nolan's jaw clenched, but he kept his mouth shut lest any harsh words are said by him. "Let's just go in there and tell him to get back to work." She stepped up and turned the knob before Nolan or Mandy could stop her.

A concentrated form of light entered the dark room. It revealed the particles of dust floating aimlessly in the air. She waved off a few visible ones and noticed the small figure hunched in the corner of the room near the door. She had been about to say something but stopped short when she realized something was off.

Lou didn't move at all from his position despite her bombarding him. He had been seated similarly to Nolan: legs were drawn up to his chest tightly, feet angled inward, arms wrapped around them, and head resting on his knees. She couldn't see his face with the mess of tangled, blond hair draping over his arm. He seemed to have his head laying to the side, facing away from her.

Before Moxy could take a step toward him, Nolan startled her by appearing in front of her path. "You need to get out. He doesn't want to be around anyone. Especially you."

Moxy was taken aback. "Wh--What did I do?"

"Is that a serious question?" Nolan finally let himself bristle as he glared down at her.

Mandy pulled on the pink doll's arm. "Moxy, let's leave. Nolan can handle it from here."

"Handle what?" A new voice sounded behind them. Ox tilted his head at the group from outside the shed. "What are ya'll doin' here? And where's Lou been? I ain't seen 'im in almost a week."

"Huh," Nolan couldn't help but comment wryly as he looked down at Moxy again, "even Ox noticed." Moxy merely shrunk in more guilt. Perhaps she had been a little too blinded by all the smiles and positivity of the other dolls that she neglected to check in on Lou.

Ox ignored the two and stepped inside, seeing the ex-leader curled up in the corner. "Lou? What's wrong?" Nolan couldn't get a word out to tell him to step back before the bunny was in front of the doll. Ox put a paw on Lou's head to try and brush away the hair, but Lou flinched away. "Lou, talk to me."

"He doesn't want to talk," Nolan clarified sharply. "And you guys are making it worse by invading his space."

"I agree," Mandy tugged harder on Moxy's arm. "So, let's give Lou some space, Moxy." The pink doll finally relented and walked out with the Pretty Doll.

Ox didn't move from his spot. He watched Lou's hands clutch at his pants tighter. Was...he really upsetting Lou just by being here? The thought sent a sharp pain through his chest. Nolan's gaze prompted him to finally stand and part ways. He sent one last look to the doll in the corner before walking out of the shed. Nolan made a step toward the doorway until he heard rhythmic tapping from where Lou was. He paused and listened.

Tap-Tap-Tap...Tap...Tap-Tap...Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap

Nolan abandoned the doorway and kneeled in front of Lou. His hand was leaning against the side of the building, tapping. Lou still didn't look up. Nolan pulled out his phone and hit the record. "One more time, Lou, please?"

Tap-Tap-Tap...Tap...Tap-Tap...Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap

The message was translated on the phone. Nolan had first heard the organized tapping a few days ago when Lou was aware of his vigil. It initially sounded like a song that Lou was tapping to the beat of, but the repetition of the taps didn't follow along to a song. It was morse code. Nolan didn't know how or when Lou had learned the cryptic language, but the translator on his phone helped them communicate. Nolan read the result:

Stay.

Just to be sure. "You want me to stay?"

A second of silence.

Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap...Tap...Tap-Tap-Tap

Nolan knew that one due to their limited "conversations" between the door. It was 'yes'.

"Okay," Nolan kept his voice soft. "Give me a minute to get them to leave." He stood and leaned out of the doorway. The others were waiting for him. "You guys go on. He wants me to stay."

"He talked to you?" Ox's ears perked up in hope.

"Sorta kinda," Nolan teetered his head with a short glance to Lou in the corner. "I'll text when I'm headed back into town. It might be a while, though, so don't wait up on me."

They hesitated to move, especially Ox. It took some coaxing from Mandy to get him to relent and walk away. Nolan didn't move from the doorway until they had walked far enough from the shed. Satisfied, he closed the door and immersed the shed back into an opaque darkness. He silently sat next to Lou in the same position he'd been in outside. No words were spoken.

[zaptap]

btw i still think theyre going to do unova remakes this year. for a second there i wavered a bit since i realized they could do something with johto first (hgss is older than gen v after all) but i think after indigo disk bringing unova back into the spotlight, it makes more sense to keep that going right into the next game (and there's no pattern yet for second-round remakes, since we've only gotten lgpe. could be total coincidence they did kanto again before sinnoh)

as for whether the remake will even be any good? idk lol. maybe they'll get ilca to do the bare minimum again. or maybe they'll decide not to after how much of a mess bdsp was (i feel like theyd rather not have to come up with special rules for pokemon home transfers again)

and to me legends arceus was one half of the sinnoh remake (the part where they add a lot of new stuff and bring newer pokemon to the region, which bdsp lacked) so they could do another legends game. they could continue the trend of focusing on a mythical and maybe do genesect or victini, or maybe base it on that merged dragon legendary we never really saw? idk

really hope though that they just... do a normal remake again. recreate the world and story of the original game, yes, but add to it. let us have pokemon that didn't exist when the originals came out, add new pokemon forms, etc. i really miss the old remakes being in the same style as the brand new games of the generation and able to communicate with each other, instead of this thing theyve been doing since lgpe where everything is in a weird bubble by itself

at the same time though i liked legends arceus and it'd be nice to see something like that again. my theory has been that it came about because game freak maybe got a little too ambitious working on a more traditional sinnoh remake (trying to work something like the wild area into sinnoh, maybe settling on making five of the areas more open, and ultimately deciding it was too different--or had some ideas to make it even more different--and spinning it off into something new while hiring ilca to cover the expectation for a "normal" remake since they'd be abandoning that)

and now, after having already done the split-model remake with bdsp and legends arceus, would they do the same thing again? i think with scarlet and violet's open world, having it be similarish to those games probably won't happen (also they absolutely wouldn't have terastalization and tera raids--if blueberry academy is in unova and has a special tera orb to enable all of that, that means it isn't in the rest of the region). but they could still have it be more linear while being stylistically similar to sv, as opposed to what bdsp did

ANYWAY how about this actually: have the type of remake we got with frlg/hgss/oras (where there's plenty of new stuff and you can get pokemon that didn't exist in the originals) and then throw in some kind of Dream World inspired side story area with legends arceus mechanics. that would be really cool

.......also there's the whole question of like. what the fuck are they gonna do about bw2. those games went above and beyond the usual third version deal. different story, different starting area and map progression, different protagonists. they can't simply tack on some alternate clothing options and throw in the kyurem/kami/etc forms and call it good. that would be unacceptable

would they put both games in one? would they sell the second as dlc? would the paired games, instead of black remake and white remake, be bw remake and bw2 remake? (would that even work?) or would they really just ignore bw2 as much as possible? honestly with the way game freak's been these days i feel like that might be most likely unfortunately

for the past few years ive been wanting to replay gen v, but with these remakes coming... well, in the past i've replayed rs before oras and played yellow before lgpe, and that was fine, but when i replayed platinum before bdsp came out it just felt like i was playing the same game again except worse. like i think i'd rather have played bdsp and then platinum. so i'll wait until after the remakes before doing that i think (or at least until we have an idea of what we're getting) (not that i think i'll have time to get around to playing those before then anyway)

[leolgc]

on JULY 11, the FIVE boys will then have a photoshoot and interview for the AUGUST issue of ESQUIRE magazine. since the buzz words associated with them are YOUNG LOVE, this will be the theme of their issue. they will be asked questions that they will have to answer in front of the camera. example of questions asked:

it wasn't that leo was surprised their mini-drama did well. but he was surprised with how viral it went. but now he had to answer things about himself. things that he may not really know about himself. he hadn't been in an actual relationship…

well none that were actually in his adult life.

so how could he come up with things if they asked him about a love life? should he tell the truth? well in an idol/actors life they usually don't disclose it anyway. so he was probably safe. he just had to keep that in mind during the photoshoot and the interview. leo stepped into the room for the photoshoot, and as expected it was like a walk in the part. something he felt was fun.

but now came the interview. would his nerves ever get used to it?

have you tested your mbti? and if so what did you get?

"i've tested it about once a year for the past few years, and i've always gotten ISFJ."

do you have a recent tmi that you would like to share with us?

"i'm really into league of legends. so i've been mastering the new mid-laner Naafiri"

what are some of your favorite things?

"my favorite colors are black and blue. and one of my favorite foods is from back home are spaghetti sandwiches."

what is your personal fashion style?

i'm pretty laid back with my clothes. i typically wear fitted black jeans and black shirts.

whats a personal talent of yours?

"i think its a talent. I am fluent in three languages: english, chinese and korean. and i'm working on japanese."

what do you want to achieve?

short term? i want to create art ( shows ) that people enjoy. long term i want to become a director.

what do you do to relax?

i like to play league and play with my cat to relax. you never know how relaxing pets can be when you need to decompress.

how does your character differ from yourself and how are you similar?

"well for starters my character doesn't have this big tattoo on his forearm. i was able to cover it up with stage makeup. we're alike in many ways. we both don't notice when our tensions rise, like in episode two. if i was ever in that situation i would probably have had a friend force us to talk."

[that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick]

Summary: Winry sat in the optimal place to study in the school cafe for the entire fall semester. Then spring came, and suddenly some self-entitled twit who dressed like off-brand Gerard Way decided it was his territory. He was so not going to get off easy.

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.8k words of coffee shop/college AU with a side of enemies to almost-lovers

A/N: It's finals week, I posted this on Ao3 at almost 5am, and if the rest of the sentence didn't make it obvious, I'm writing from unfortunate experience. Not beta-ed or proofread, although I happened to see one thing to fix when I woke up this morning. Feel my raw power. Rawr.

It wasn't that big a deal.

It kind of really was, though.

Every Thursday morning during the fall semester, Winry sat in the same spot at the same school coffee shop. It was the spot sent by the entire patron pantheon of cram papers. Maybe one person didn't need an entire booth, but it was in the corner, and the tops of the bench seats had opaque plastic barriers that just so happened to be perfect for minimizing excess visual chaos. For the most part, there weren't loud conversations, and the jazz music that came through the speakers helped her tune out people ordering coffee. Add to that the fact that she could use campus flex dollars and not her own bank account that was begging for mercy, and it was the perfect spot to get papers done.

But apparently not this spring.

As soon as Winry walked in, she noticed him in the corner. Some emo wannabe guy on his computer. Probably on Reddit complaining about how women didn't appreciate the amazing pics he sent them on Tinder. Or at least, it was a fair guess based on the sour look on his face. Why did this guy of all people have to steal the holy grail spot? Ugh. She was still gonna get her coffee, darn it.

"You know the deal, Sciezska. Medium roast with a shot of espresso and vanilla creamer."

"On it! You paying in flex?"

"Yeah." She scanned her student ID and lowered her voice. "Who's off-brand Gerard Way in the corner?"

"Who's Ger—"

"The punk kid."

"Ohhh. I can try to get his number for you, if you want."

"No, he looks like a total tool! And not the kind I like dealing with!"

"Which means you think he's hot. I didn't think you were into that type, but you're not wrong."

"For the last time, no, Sciezska! He took my spot! And I'm trying very, very hard to keep this to a stage whisper, but if you keep trying to set me up with some random creep, I won't be able to!"

A distinctly male voice grumbled, "I'm not a creep."

"Keep telling that to the girls on Tinder. I'm sure they'll understand eventually."

"Yeah, and I'll bet if you look at your 'Live, Laugh, Love' sign a little more, you'll understand it eventually." He mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that, Mr. Nice Guy?"

"Lay off, it's eight in the morning. I said the only reason I even have a Tinder account is because my roommate stole my phone while I was going to the bathroom."

"Well, if you didn't want it, why didn't you delete it?"

"Eh, I figured if I really got sick of being single one day, it'd already be there."

"Never would have guessed you were single," Winry said dryly.

"Come on, it's way too early to be rubbing that kind of crap in. Who says I'm not fine with being single anyway?"

Sciezska timidly spoke up. "Medium roast with espresso and vanilla creamer?"

Winry thanked her as red jacket boy continued. "'Edward Elric, Bachelor.' Almost sounds as good as 'Edward Elric, Bachelor of Science.'"

"B.S. degree. Sounds about right."

"About time you stopped acting like I'm an idiot!"

Winry snorted. "That's not what I meant."

"Hey!"

"And with that, I'm going to go find some other spot to write my paper."

Edward, as his name apparently was, scoffed and mumbled something that sounded like "good riddance". Maybe the librarians wouldn't get on her case too much for bringing in coffee.

-----

A week later, Winry walked into the cafe, assuming the circumstances of the previous week were an anomaly. They were not.

"Medium roast with a shot of espresso and vanilla creamer," she grumbled and sulked in the direction of the corner seat.

"Hey, don't start with me again, blondie. I've had a whopping four hours of sleep and I can't promise you'll like what comes out of my mouth."

"We're at a coffee shop. Get some coffee. I can't help it if you're too hung over to be polite."

"Now look, genius. I did not stay up until 4 A.M. working on a stupid chem paper for that sadistic pyromaniac excuse for a professor just for some random chick to accuse me of being hung over."

"Oh."

"Yeah. And for your information, coffee doesn't really help me wake up. It just helps me focus on homework." He lifted up his empty cup and gave it a shake.

"That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard."

"ADHD is a weird thing, and yet, here I am."

"Huh, interesting."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pick up where I left off with the same stupid ten page paper I started last night."

"Oh right. Sure," Winry stammered. "Listen, I'm really sorry I just assumed things about you. It was wrong of me, and I'd like to make it up to you, if that's okay."

Edward eyed her suspiciously. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well...I could look over your paper once you're done writing it? I've got a paper of my own to write while I'm waiting, and I can sit right across the table here so you don't have to come get me. I won't try to talk to you or anything. Neither of us need that kind of distraction."

"Alright, alright. Get your coffee and sit down. The girl at the counter's been up there waiting for a good minute or two while you've been at confessional over here."

"Wait, she has?" Winry's eyes widened, and Edward laughed at her expense. He was kind of attractive when he wasn't scowling...wait what? She pouted and got up to retrieve her coffee. When Winry returned, she plopped down on the bench opposite Edward and opened her laptop. Peeking out from behind it, she added, "By the way, I'm Winry. I figured you ought to at least know the name of the person who's proofreading your paper."

"Well, Winry, you're the one who volunteered." The corners of his mouth twitched upward. The two worked on their assignments in silence, occasionally speaking up when necessary.

-----

Edward was in the corner again the next week as well.

"Hey, Edward! Mind if I join you for homework again?"

"Normally, I'd say no, but you didn't bother me too much last week, so you might as well." He turned away slightly.

"Great! Have you gotten your coffee yet? I didn't see a cup, and you got something the last two times."

"Eh, I haven't been here long. If you're going up and getting yours, would you mind ordering a caramel macchiato for me?" He asked, sliding his ID across the table.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll be back in a sec."

She returned and slipped his ID back before pulling out her computer. "Do you have anything for me to look over this time?"

"Not this week. But if you have anything you need looked over, I can do that, too."

"Actually, I do, if you wouldn't mind."

"Winry, I just volunteered. Just send the paper to my school email. Mine's 'elricedwa'," he instructed as he proceeded to spell it.

"Medium roast and a caramel macchiato?" Sciezska called out.

"Coming!" Winry replied and turned to Edward. "I just sent it, so you should be able to start while I'm getting our stuff." Eyes glued to his laptop, Edward gave a thumbs up.

Once she returned with their drinks, Winry sat down and wordlessly set Edward's drink next to him.

"Thanks," he muttered distantly. His lips mirrored the words he was reading. Though his lips weren't plump by any stretch of the imagination, they were shapely. His steely concentration made the air leave Winry's lungs. To top it all off, the first rays of sunlight came through the window just right, hitting Edward's hair in a way that made it positively glow.

What was she thinking? Those were only the sorts of things people thought when they had a crush. She'd only had two positive interactions with him, including this one. ...well, maybe it was a crush. She could certainly do worse than someone with a questionable fashion sense. After all, he worked hard, and he got good grades, if the quality of his writing was any indication. Okay, fine. He was also drop dead gorgeous, if you could see past his clothing choices. Yeah, she had a crush.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"...no."

"Figures. I finished reading your paper. It's not bad, I just left a few suggestions for sentence structure. Now I am going to enjoy my caramel macchiato." He took off the lid and breathed in the steam with his eyes closed, nearly drooping into the cup in content. When he opened his eyes slowly, Winry was awestruck by the similarity between the color of his eyes and his drink.

"What?" Edward furrowed his eyebrows.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything. At all. Nope."

"Okay." He shrugged. She reopened the document and went through his suggested edits. Gnawing her lip in concentration, she leaned forward a bit to settle in and tackle the editing.

"...hey, uh, Winry?" Edward gulped. "Are you going to drink your coffee?"

"Oh! Yeah, I almost forgot. Thanks, Edward!" she smiled.

"No–no problem. And you can call me Ed, you know. Most people do. Except for that excuse for a professor that calls me pipsqueak. Can you believe he's my advisor? I mean, come on, I'm a grown man. I'm not that short."

Winry made a poor attempt at containing her laughter. "Okay then, Ed. Prove it. Stand up."

"Fine." He slid out of the booth and stood. Winry followed suit and appraised their respective heights.

"Well, I'd hardly call you tall, but you're at least taller than me by a few inches, for whatever that's worth."

Edward grinned as if he had won some sort of prize. "Time for shorties to sit down now!"

"Watch it now. You're not too far from that label yourself, mister."

They both returned to their positions in the booth and worked steadily for the next hour. At the end of that time, Winry closed her laptop. "Ed, are you okay? You seem distracted."

"ADHD. I'm always distracted," he dismissed.

"No, like, are you sick or something? You did get more than four hours of sleep this time, right?"

"No comment." Ed's mouth twitched. He mumbled barely loud enough to hear, "Wouldn't have mattered anyway."

"Are you sure? If you're not feeling well, I can drive you over to the health center."

"N-no. That's not it." He exhaled, then slid a napkin across the table. His hands trembled slightly. "Anyway, here's my number. In case you need me to look over a paper. Or whatever. I've got a class soon."

Winry blushed, but tucked the napkin in her laptop. "Thanks, Ed. See you next week?"

"Yeah. Next week."

-----

Winry: This goes with your major, right?

Edward: Blocked

[kyber-kisses]

Torrential (3/3)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: more cursing, more fluff, more Dean being totally in love and not knowing what to do

Summary: Deans tries to keep his feelings buried, but its extremely hard when Y/N is just so damn perfect.

A/n: I’m sorry this took so long to finish, i currently have the worst case of writers block and it feels like I've been stuck in an endless loop of zero inspiration. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

It was like some sort of weird drug.

That was one of the only ways Dean could describe his feelings. Everything was fine one second, and the next? You’d just waltz into the room and his palms would get sweaty and he would suddenly be stumbling on his words. 

Okay- so more accurately you were like a drug, and Dean was addicted. He partially blamed Sam for this. He was the one that had helped him realize his feelings towards you. His little brother had got him hooked on the drug that was Y/N Y/L/N.

For a moment he also blamed the damn thunderstorm still raging outside. It hadn’t let up and with each passing day Dean swore that he was falling deeper in love with you. You would still sit with the door open while you read and every once and awhile you would just patter into the room drenched to the bone with a smile that out shined the sun smeared across your face.

You were addicted to the rain just like the older Winchester was addicted to you. You came in drenched with water and Dean stayed drenched in love. It was somehow poetic, and the hunter had no idea what to do with it. He’d never felt this way about anyone before.

You had gotten up from your armchair awhile ago, disappearing into the confines of the bunker to do knows what, leaving him to steep in silence as he tried to come to terms with the truth. Even if it had been days, he still found it hard to believe. Should he tell you? Or should he just keep it buried as his little secret until eventually time ran out?

So caught up in his thoughts, He almost didn’t notice your return until you were siding up next to where he was seated, the laptop in front of him going unnoticed as he stayed locked in the zone.

“Grilled cheese for your thoughts?” You smiled, offering over the delicacy you had balanced on a plate, earning his attention as he turned to look at you.

“You made me grilled cheese?”

“Uh, yeah? You seemed a bit out of it earlier so I thought what better way to gain your attention than to bribe you with cheese and bread?” You grinned, sticking the plate out for him to take.

“You know me so well.”

“I know.” Sinking down into the chair besides him, you crossed your arms. “You wanna tell me why you’ve been acting so off lately?”

“I haven’t been acting off.”

Raising an eyebrow, you swiped half of the sandwich. “Try again cowboy. You’ve been awfully quiet these past few days.”

Shit. Had he really been that off? He thought he had been covering it up just fine. Clearly that was not the case.

Dean let out a sigh, picking off little pieces of crust from his portion of the sandwich. He just had to try and cover it up again. Throw you off so you didn’t poke anymore. He was afraid that if you did he wouldn’t be able to hold anything back.

“Do you wanna go on a walk?”

and there went that plan. . .

“A walk? Dean, it’s raining.” You shot him a quizzed look, his question catching you even more off guard. “And no offense but I thought you hated the rain.”

“I don’t hate it!” He fired back, standing up and reaching for his coat. “It’s just not- my ideal weather.”

Watching him walk towards the stairs, you tried to piece together what was going on with him, only to come up blank. You couldn’t for the life of you pin point why he was acting so weird.

“You coming or not?”

“Sheesh, calm down. Let me put on my jacket.” Tugging the canvas material over you body you let your feet carry you quickly across the room and up the stairs, Dean grabbing the lone umbrella that stayed propped against the railing most days.

Holding the door open for you, you stepped out into what felt like a never ending downpour. Rain beaded down the paintwork of the impala, bouncing off of every hard surface. The sound coming from every direction except down and the storm drains bubbling with brown runoff from the lonely dirt road. There was a subtle swoosh sound from behind you and a moment later the feeling of water dripping onto your head ceased, Dean standing besides you with the open umbrella:

“You know, you’re probably the last person I ever expected to just get up and go on a walk with. You shun exercise.”

“Oh shut up. This isn’t exercise.” Stepping up the stone stairs side by side, Dean adjusted his grip on the umbrella, making sure you were both protected from the downpour- not that you cared though. “This is- this is a leisurely stroll.”

“Ah. Got it. . . Still not like you at all.” You shot him an amused grin before linking your arm with his and pulling yourself closer to the Winchester. Thankfully for Dean, you hadn’t noticed his surprised look when you did it, the tender action catching him off guard as he looked down at your linked arms. Everything in him was telling him to pull away, to sever the connection before he fell even further. . . But he couldn’t. It was like a magnet kept him close to you, making it impossible for him to do anything rationally.

The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of your boots hitting the shallow puddles almost being drowned out by the droplets smacking against the material of the umbrella.

“Why do you like the rain so much?” He suddenly questioned, shifting to stick his free hand into his pocket. “You never told me.”

And like so many times before, Dena watched as your eyes lit up, a soft smile pulling at your lips and making the corners of your eyes crinkle. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just wondering.”

“You want the long answer or the sort one?”

Dean shrugged, doing his best to act casual in the whole situation. “I don’t care. Whatever you want.”

You smile grew at his response, taking in the hunter as you did so. How could someone be so complicated and so simple at the same time?

“I love the rain. I always have. It brings life and fills the earth. It smells good too- it smells fresh. Clean.” You paused. “And the sound? People always explain it as a steady pitter patter but I always compared it to the crackle of an old radio coming to life. The rain has always made me feel safe and secure. kind of like you.”

You paused once more, looking over the hunter you still linked arms with, taken back by his expression.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Is it really that cheesy?”

“No,no.” Dean quickly interjected, the soft smile on his lips slowly growing, eyes full as he gave you his attention. “I just like hearing you talk about things you love. You get excited.”

At that your grin grew, eyes almost as bright as his. “And what about you, Dean Winchester?”

“What about me?”

“What things do you love? What things make you happy? Besides double bacon cheeseburgers and your car of course.”

Dean tried to hide the falter in his steps, almost soaking his foot in a puddle with the action. So. . . He may have dug himself into a small hole with that one small comment.

Quick, Dean. Give her an answer. . . Preferably not the first thing that comes to mind.

“Y/N, you already know the things I love.”

“I know some things. I doubt I know everything.” You corrected him, giving his bicep a squeeze as you did.

“I love hunting, and classic rock.”

“Dean, I already know those things!”

The hunter shrugged in defense, practically white knuckling the umbrella handle in a futile attempt to keep himself in check. “I don’t know what to tell you Y/N! You know everything about me!”

“Oh c’mon. There has to be something. Give me something that will surprise me.”

“Y/n, I’m telling you. You already know what I love. I can’t surprise you.”

With a groan you un-linked your arm from his, once again stepping out into the downpour, tilting your face skyward. “And I’m telling you: I sincerely doubt that.”

“You do know if you do that your gonna have to walk back in wet clothes, right?” Dean grinned, watching as you hopped into a puddle, the childish part of you shining through with the small action as you got distracted.

“Does it look like I care?”

And then before the older Winchester even had a chance to react to ripped the umbrella from his grasp and snapped it shut, successful drenching him in a similar fashion to yourself.

“Y/N! What the hell?!”

“It’s just water, silly.” You laughed, suddenly choosing to hop from puddle to puddle momentarily. “Sure, it doesn’t look partially nice from under the umbrella, but once you’re out in it, it ain’t so bad.”

Squinting through the sheet of rain dividing you, Dean took in your features. tiny rivulets of water slid down your face, dripping of the top of your nose and collecting on your lips. Your hair at this point slicked back by the amount of water it had collected as well. 

God, you were beautiful.

“You.”

Your childish antics quickly ceased, your figure spinning around to face him. “What?”

“You asked me what do I love. That’s my answer.” He swallowed, suddenly finding it difficult to do so. “You. I’m- im in love with you.”

It was almost painful to stand there and watch you. Your eyes widened and you froze in the middle of a particularly big puddle, the last of the ripples you had made slowly beginning to fade. You blinked. Once. Twice.

“Okay, you gonna say something or you just gonna stand there and make me feel even more uncomfortable than I already am?”

You stayed silent for another minute, successfully stunned to silence by his words. Dean Winchester. . . In love with you?

“Me?”

“Yes, You.”

“Are you sure? I’m fucking crazy.”

“Yes, I’m damn sure. Why do you think I’ve been so quiet lately?” He paused, drawing in a breath.

“That’s why you were so quiet?! I thought you were mad at me!”

“I wasn’t mad at you!” Stomping through the small puddles, Dean came to a halt in front of you, wiping the rain from his vision, even if it only lasted a moment. “I just- I didn’t know what to do. I love you- I’ve been in love with you Y/N. Probably long before I even realized I was.” It was like the rain was a whole different kind of liquid courage, because like a switch being flicked the words just flowed out easily.

There was silence from your end again as you took in his words and then slowly but surely a smile spread across your face. “Dean.”

“What?”

“Well, I thought we were saying things we loved, right?”

It took a minute for the gears to click into place in his brain but you could pinpoint the moment they aligned, Deans eyes widening at the realization. “Wait- you-“ he never finished because you quickly flung your arms around him, and sweetly pressed your lips against his.

And then the bastard slipped. He fucking slipped. You don’t know how but all off a sudden his arms were around you, and his feet went out from underneath him, and Dean Winchester successfully pulled you to the muddy earth with him, your heads bonking during the decent as you let out a yell.

Except this time the hunter softened your fall as you landed on his chest, earning a harsh oof from him.

“Oh god, I’m sorry-“ bracing your hands on either side of his head, you pushed most of your body weight off him, your face hovering bunches from his own.

“You okay?”

“I’m okay. Are you? I think I crushed your lungs.” The words slowly fading on your lips as you quickly lost yourself in his eyes.

“Y/N.”

“Dean.” His name left your lips breathlessly, and then his arms snakes around your waist and pulled you flush against him, and you were kissing again. Dean swore he could taste the rainwater on your lips, and they were even more lush then they looked. His hands curled along your back, tracing your shape as he did.

Okay- so maybe you were right. The real thing wasn’t so bad once you stepped out into the downpour. It might be unsettling at first- but the feeling soon melts away.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Maybe love is like rain. Sometimes gentle, sometimes torrential, flooding, eroding, joyful, steady, filling the earth, collecting in underground springs. When it rains, when we love, life grows. - Carol Gilligan

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[cynicallystiles]

Seasons of Love: The One with How They Met

Disclaimer: Moodboard made by me. Pictures found on Google!

Author: @cynicallystiles

Request: @itrocksmysocks​ basically requested this by making me obsessed with the triplets a year ago.

Warning: Swearing maybe.

Notes: The long awaited series is here! The whole thing still isn’t finished ahead of time like I wanted. So, we’ll see if I actually stay on schedule with this one. Credit to @thotmendes​ for imagining the triplets into existence about a year ago! Thanks for your patience! Please COMMENT/REBLOG if you enjoy it!

Pairing: Kallie Hayes (OC) x Mendes Triplets

Masterlist Series Masterlist

SOL Teaser Chapter Two

Words: ~3.5k

Anais Nin once said, "Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."

The first encounter Kallie had with the triplets was a memorable one. This could be because she didn't know they were triplets. She had just moved to town with her family and started her first day in the middle of October.

Kallie was just eight or nine years old, but she was nervous about starting a new school way behind the other kids. Once her parents dropped her off with the principal, she was led to a small classroom. The teacher smiled brightly as he welcomed her in.

"Hello! It's very nice to meet you..." he trailed off, expecting her to reply. Her gaze was anxiously flitting around to all the other students staring at her curiously. So, he cleared his throat.

With a slight jump, she whipped her head back to him. "Kallie, sir." She held out her little hand and gave him a firm shake. Well, as firm as an eight-year-old could give an old person with hands the size of baseball gloves.

"You're very polite! I can't wait to meet your parents," he beamed at her, not noticing the small flinch of her eye. Things don't always go nicely when her parents come to school. It's why she's always on her best behavior. "Well, I'm Mr. Flannigan."

He stood up straight and turned toward the class with a smile that was bright against his tan skin. "Class...this is Kalliope Hayes." So, he already knew her full name before she came into the room?

There was a pause as the students ceremoniously said, "Hi, Kalliope!"

Mr. Flannigan nodded as if the response was what he wanted. "Kalliope, why don't you tell us three fun things about yourself, and then we'll go into the lesson plan for today?"

Funny. He phrased it as if it were a question. But, when adults ask questions like that, they're more likely strong suggestions. So, she took one step forward and cleared her throat.

"Hi," she squeaked out. "My full name is Kalliope but I like Kallie better. Three things about me are..." She stalled a moment, forgetting every single fun thing about her. "Uh...I like bike riding...I'm really good at holding my breath!...and...I've never ice skated?"

Her green eyes look up to the teacher for approval as everyone claps politely. He's about to point to her seat when a small voice cuts him off. "How long??"

"Huh?" She asks as she scans the other kids for the voice.

The boy in the last row, second from her right and wearing a forest green hoodie peers past the rest of the students. "You said you're really good at holding your breath! How long?"

"Um, like, thirty-five seconds? I think," she responds uncertainly. It's been a while since the last time she had her sister time her. His brown eyes stare at her for a moment longer.

Then, he nods. "Nice." He grins at her in approval. She smiles a little wider in response and Mr. Flannigan tells her to take the only open seat left.

She walks toward the back, finding the open seat next to the kid who had questioned her breath-holding skills. As Mr. Flannigan starts the lesson plan, the boy leans over and offers his hand.

"I'm Shawn!" The eagerness of his voice makes her relax. Maybe she just made her first friend here. She takes his hand and shakes it a little. "Let's make up a secret handshake later at recess, okay?" She nods enthusiastically before they turn forward in their seats to pay attention.

Later at recess, Shawn and Kallie are standing under one of the shady trees on the playground, mixing an unnecessary amount of steps to their secret friendship handshake.

"Hey, Shawn! Come play tag!" Some other kids begin to call him to play games with them.

He looks over at Kallie. "Wanna come play?"

"No, thanks," she shakes her head causing her light brown hair to rustle in the wind, "I don't really like tag." He shrugs and squints at her a little, but accepts her answer before running off to join the game.

She decides to take a stroll along the fence to see if she could find some cool rocks to take home for the new garden her parents were gonna plant. As she does, she sees a boy crouched down with his hands cupped around something. He's wearing a jean jacket over his white T-shirt.

As she approaches, she calls out excitedly, "Watchya got in your hand?" The boy startles, his hands opening to let a frog jump out. He hurriedly reaches out and catches it again as Kallie takes a step back. She notes how carefully he cups his hand around it.

"A frog," he says plainly and he sounds slightly similar to...who does he sound like?

Her face contorts in minor disgust. "Why?" Is all she asks. When he turns to look at her, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I thought you went to play tag!"

"What?" He asks in genuine ignorance.

She looks him over and her brows come even closer together. "How did you change your clothes so fast, Shawn?"

"I'm not Shawn," he rolls his eyes with a sigh.

"What do you mean? You said your name was Shawn in class today," she reminds him.

He silently sticks his tiny closed fist through the fence to release the frog toward its home. Standing up, he wipes his hand on his jeans. "That's my brother. I'm Raul." He sticks out his frog contaminated hand.

"Oh, so you're like twins?" She swallows her squeamishness and shakes his hand quickly, then wipes it on the back of her shorts.

He shrugs. "You could say that." With that, he walks past her without another word. She turns and watches him run to another group of kids who are playing on the monkey bars.

She heads back to the tree, collapsing against its bark to enjoy the rest of recess. Her relaxing doesn't last long as something drops into her lap from above. "Ow!" She exclaims and opens her eyes to find a notebook in her lap.

"Sorry!" A voice calls out from above. She looks up quickly and finds an increasingly familiar face looking down at her.

His puppy dog eyes match his apologetic smile. Kallie sighs deeply. "Now, when did you get up there??" She was seriously starting to think she'd never woken up this morning.

"I've been here all recess!" He replies with an adorable smile. "Can you hand that back to me?" He asks, laying on his stomach to reach down.

She stands, stretching on her tiptoes to hand it back. Kallie then sees that he's wearing neither a green hoodie nor a jean jacket. Instead, he's wearing a blue, plaid button-up shirt. She frowns. "Don't tell me there's another one of you?"

"Huh?" He quirks his eyebrow for a moment. "Oh! You mean my brothers! Shawn and Raul?" She nods, but in her mind, she hopes it stops at three. Already, she could tell she'd never be able to tell them apart. "I'm Peter!"

"Why are you in a tree with a notebook?"

"It keeps me from getting hit by the dodgeballs while I'm trying to draw." He scrunches up his face like it's obvious. "Duh," he adds on.

The apparent obviousness of the statement makes her giggle. "What are you drawing?" She asks curiously.

He pauses for a long moment, sizing her up. Then, an adorable grin spreads across his lips. "Climb up here, and I'll show you," he half-invites, half-challenges her.

"Okay!" Without hesitation, she rolls the sleeves up on her Princess Belle shirt and scales the tree with only minimal effort.

Peter watches her settle in on the branch next to him in awe. "That was really fast!"

"Thanks!" She beams at him. "My sister can't climb so when she chases me with gross stuff I had to find somewhere to hide," she informs him happily.

He laughs and scoots next to her as he opens his notebook across both of their laps. Slowly, he flips through the pages to show her the different drawings. "These are really good!" She compliments him.

"Really?" He asks shyly. Kallie nods vigorously and continues to marvel at the sketches. Peter smiles and watches her admire his work for a few minutes more.

But, they're not alone for much longer. "Kallie? Where'd you go?" She looks over the notebook below them. Shawn is looking around the base of the tree.

"Up here!" She giggles. His head turns toward the sound of her voice. "Peter was showing me some drawings!"

Shawn covers the urge to frown with a bright smile. "Come down! We gotta finish our super-secret handshake before recess is over," he reminds her.

"One second!" She calls down and turns to Peter. "I gotta go. Thanks for letting me see your notebook!" Then, she carefully climbs down the tree.

Once she hops onto the ground, Shawn slings an arm around her shoulders as he leads her away. "Our handshake is gonna be so awesome! And it'll be just for us! You know what else? You can come with me and my family to our lake house to ice skate in the winter since you've never been!" He chatters happily as he leads her further away from Peter.

From that day on, the two of them were inseparable. That day was the first time the boys had gotten jealous or competitive over Kallie. But, it wasn't the last.

It was disorienting at first, never knowing who was who. Except for Shawn, of course. Kallie could always tell which one was Shawn because out of the three, those two were the ones joined at the hip. Not to say that she didn't grow close with the rest of the boys. Just that Shawn was who she was close with first.

Throughout the years, they were like the Four Musketeers. Getting into all kinds of trouble and mischief. They enjoyed the best of their times throughout the year at the Mendes' cabin in the Muskoka Lake District. Since the very first year they became friends, their parents were kind enough to bring her along on all of their little trips.

Occasionally, her parents and sister came along. Which was nice because a majority of the other parents didn't take kindly to hers. She loved that they were so kind and included them in their trips. That cabin became like a lifeline to them as the years wore on.

They shared every holiday, celebrated every event, and recovered from unexpected hard times at that cabin. Christmas time? They went to the cabin. Someone's birthday? The cabin was there. The worst time of their lives? The cabin saw that too.

The four of them could never imagine not having that cabin, or each other to get through life. Which is why it hurt all the more when they got the news. After graduating high school, the four of them went on to university. Together.

While they all had different majors, it was hard to find time for each other at first. So, they made it a rule to have dinner every Saturday night at one of their dorms. Rotating between them as hosts to the gathering. Which became easier when they all moved in together after the first two years of having to live in the dorms. They were now coming off of their third year of university with one left to go.

As the four of them piled into Shawn's Jeep for the trip home with their bags stuffed in the back, excitement floated through the air to finally be able to relax for a time before heading back to Toronto for the most important year of schoolwork.

"Shotgun!" Kallie, Peter, and Raul call at the same time as they race toward the front seat.

The three slam into the side of the vehicle with laughter. Looking to Shawn to be the referee, he rolls his eyes. "Kallie got there first," he chuckles.

"C'mon!" Peter groans.

"You always let her have it," Raul mumbles as he slides into the backseat.

"My Jeep, my rules," Shawn shrugs and buckles into the driver's seat with a chuckle.

Kallie happily hops into the front seat, smiling at Shawn before turning to grab her seatbelt. "Thank you!" As she buckles it, she exchanges a secret glance with Shawn and he winks at her.

"Anytime," he responds as she bites her bottom lip to contain her laugh.

With that, the four set off toward home. Well, more like toward the cabin. They were planning on stopping at their houses to see their families first and then spend the rest of the summer in Muskoka.

Half an hour later, the boys drop Kallie off at her parents' house before heading down the street to theirs. "Dinner at ours at six?" Peter confirms as she grabs her bags out of the back.

"Mhm," she replies and walks around to his window, while Raul gets out and gets in the front seat. "And then breakfast at mine at ten tomorrow?"

He nods with a grin. "We'll be here!" She mumbles a 'perfect' and leans through the window to kiss his cheek and he kisses hers at the same time, something they've gotten in the habit of doing when they part ways. Shawn shifts his grip on the steering wheel as he watches them in the mirror.

"See you tonight!" Raul calls as his eyes trail after her, lower than they should be when she disappears into her house. Shawn reaches over and slaps the back of his head. "Ow!!" He rubs the new sore spot with a chuckle as Shawn pulls away from the curb.

Later, as promised, she enters the Mendes household as if she lives there. She's right on time for dinner, but it's unusually quiet around the house. "Hello?"

"In here!" Someone calls after a long moment of silence.

Kallie makes her way into the living room where the brothers are seated on the couch. "Hey! What's going on? Why is it so quiet?" She questions as she sits in between Shawn and Peter's legs, stretching her own across Peter's lap and resting her feet in Raul's.

"Mom has news," Shawn says surprisingly seriously. It's then that Kallie notices the shock on their faces and that Karen is sitting in one of the other chairs.

She leans her torso back into Shawn and shrugs. "What is it? Bad news?" They nod and she looks at Karen as she takes a deep breath.

"Well, sweetie," she begins sweetly. "As I've just finished telling the boys..." she pauses, gathering the strength to tell her. "We've decided to sell the cabin."

Kallie's expression falls into the same shock that the boys wear and she feels like her whole body goes numb. "Wh-no. H-how...why-no!" She finally stutters out.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I know how much that cabin means to you all," she sighs. "But...we just can't afford to keep up with it year-round anymore. Especially, since we haven't been back since you all were in high school."

Her eyebrows furrow together in confusion. "Wha..." she breathes out, unable to think straight. To stop her mind from spinning, she focuses on the things around her.

Like the feel of Shawn's heartbeat against her back and the rhythm of his breathing. Like the goosebumps on her legs caused by Peter lightly tracing his fingers over her knees. Like the cold metal of Raul's rings as he squeezes her ankles comfortingly.

"When are you selling it?" Raul asks, taking charge of the situation. It's something he tends to do as the oldest of the three brothers. When things get tough, he steps in to steady everyone.

Karen shrugs. "We haven't found a buyer yet."

"Well," he sighs. "Then, we're still gonna go out for the summer. And every chance we get until you sell it. We can clean and pack up stuff along the way."

She smiles gratefully at him. "Thank you, honey. I hope you all enjoy the summer there...you deserve it before your last year at university!" She smiles, the tension slightly diffused but not dissipated. "Dinner will be ready soon."

Then, she silently heads to the kitchen to leave the four of them alone. Kallie shifts her body to stand up and face the boys. One hand goes to her hip as her eyes train on the carpet. With the other, she pushes some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"I'm gonna..." she trails off, not having any words. "I'll be outside," she whispers and immediately exits the room.

Shawn leans forward to stand up. "I'll get her-"

"No. Lemme handle it," Raul interrupts and follows her without another word.

Sitting back down defeatedly, Shawn looks at Peter. "The hell was that about? Thought I was her best friend..." he grumbles.

"We're all best friends," Peter reminds him. "Besides...they have been closer since the twelfth grade." He shrugs and pulls his sketchbook out of his bag.

Shawn's brows crease together and then rise on his forehead. "You don't think they're-" He stops himself short because he doesn't even want to go there.

"What?" Peter looks up from the sketch he's working on. His face falls flat when he sees Shawn's panicked look. "Oh my god! They're not. Raul isn't even Kallie's type," he scoffs and focuses on the bright green irises he's drawing, only slightly concerned that Shawn may be right.

Shawn twists his features into an offended sort of confusion. "Her type? We all have the same face!"

"Yeah, but none of us are dating her...are we?" Peter scoffs dismissively.

"No," Shawn grumbles as he sinks further into the couch and crosses his arms grumpily.

Raul steps out onto the porch, barely squinting his eyes at the now-setting sun. Kallie's ash brown hair catches the light stunningly, almost as if it were milk chocolate silk. The red undertones give her hair a cinnamon-like shine you can only see under the sun. He sits next to her on the top step as she hugs her knees to her chest and rests her chin there.

He doesn't say anything as he leans back, letting his palms press into the wood. Time ticks by and he doesn't talk. She doesn't talk. Her body just slowly tips toward Raul until she's collapsed into his side. He feels her sigh heavily and he scoots closer to circle his arm around her waist.

"This isn't the end of the world," he promises like he always does when she gets like this. She huffs, annoyed that he seems to always downplay her sadness at first. "I'm serious."

She sits up, turning on the step to stare at him direly. "Oh, are you? I couldn't tell," she deadpans. "I know it's not the end of the world, Raul...that doesn't mean this all still doesn't suck," she murmurs as her hands move to her words.

"Life's allowed to suck," he chuckles. She watches the light dance in his hazel eyes and sighs. "You're even allowed to wallow about it," he continues.

She throws herself into his lap dramatically. "Then, let me wallowwww," she whines playfully. He rests his arm across her torso.

"But-"

"No...no buts," she begs as she turns her face into his stomach to hide. She curls her legs up until she's almost in a ball on her side.

Raul gently strokes her back. "But," he says pointedly, "you're not allowed to wallow forever. Eventually, you have to pull on your big girl pants and show life who it's messing with."

"You're so lame," she laughs and ventures a peek up at him.

He tilts his head and smiles smugly. "Got you to laugh didn't I?" She nods slightly. "I know how much the cabin means to you. It means that much to all of us," he soothes her.

"I somehow always forget that you guys feel it too," she whispers.

Raul moves his hand to brush her hair out of her face. "I'll make you a deal," he begins. Her attention peaks because he always offers her the same deal and she'd never pass it up. No matter what it is. "Suck it up for now. You can wallow when the place is actually sold."

"What do I get for pulling on my big girl pants?" She challenges.

He scrunches up his face in obvious sarcasm. "What do you always get?"

"Prom night?" She replies hopefully.

"Prom night," he confirms mischievously.

[ghostofbrock]

venomous words

on a rainy afternoon in new jersey, the kids didn't have an option to go outside or not since they knew how strict their mother was on days like this and how their father would react if he saw mud tracked into the house. they'd be toast with the chancla.

so ellie played with her barbie dolls on the carpet in the living room floor with a small smile on her face, giovanni sat on the couch and watched over his baby sister while trying to look for something to watch in netflix, specifically a movie. luke and auggie were upstairs in their room playing whatever the newer generation was into. the two boys were in sweats that had crumbs on them since the boys were munching on potato chips as they played their game. their mother had just arrived from long and stressful day at work, she sat in her car for a minute or two to collect herself before entering her home where her babies and husband would be waiting for arrival. well maybe just her babies... once again.

she covered herself with her purple umbrella since it was pouring rain as she got out her car, closed the door and locked it before walking to her front porch that wrapped around the house. she closed her umbrella as soon as she was covered by the porch's roof. she grabbed her house key out of her pocket and opened her door.

"mom's home!"

she hasn't stepped foot into her home and she was already called out by her kids. luke and auggie jumped out their beds and ran downstairs as soon as they heard their older brother yell. ellie dropped her doll and skipped over to her mommy as gio stood up from the couch and walked over to her.

as sara closed the door behind her and turned around, she was attacked by hugs all over her body. from her thighs to her shoulders, her children had her trapped in a loving hug.

after she kissed them each and asked about how their day went, they went back to what they were doing before she came home. later they were expecting a home cooked meal that she always provided for them since mattia rarely cooked for them nowadays and sara didn't like having her kids eating fast food all the time either for their health. at times it was acceptable but if they didn't need to eat it then they wouldn't.

sara was now sitting at the island that was in the kitchen, she opened the bottled water she grabbed from the fridge and took a sip.

"how was work?" her oldest son's voice came from behind her. he walked from behind her to next to her and leaned against the marble island. "stressful. overwhelming. busy. i don't know how i'm gonna do it..." she rubs her temples with a groan. "don't over work yourself, ma. you got this, you always do." gio rubs his moms shoulder softly and flashed her a smile. a smile that made her feel better and made her smile.

"i know it's just that i wanna do as much as i can for this project. i've worked my ass off for years for this to finally happen and i'm so close. only a few more months of ridiculous amount of stress then i'll have my own clothing line." a weak smile formed on her lips, gio's heart swells at the sight. he knows how much his mom has been wanting this but he also knows how much she can overwork herself.

"isn't dad helping you with any of it? he said he would, right?" gio asked with his mother with hope as she took another sip of her water. "uh yeah. he is but there's certain things he can't help with." she gave her son a tight smile laced with lies.

truth is mattia hadn't even talked to sara about her huge project that she has been working on for over a year now. he thinks his wife can do it herself because of how strong she is but little did he know how weak she was getting from handling everything by herself. she was never the one to ask for help but this time she did ask for help from her husband but his answer?

"you're being dramatic"

so she never asked again and instead asked her close friends who were of course open to help with anything she needed. she knew that the kids had brought up the project while they talked to mattia recently either at dinner or something similar. and being the good father mattia is he had to lie because he knew if his kids found out their parents weren't helping each other out then they'd question why and jump to conclusions which leads to arguments and picking "sides".

"oh yeah. i've been helping her with scheduling everything and keeping the tabloids updated. she's not as stress thanks to me."

sara would just simply nod and give a small nod to the kids and glare at mattia who just rolled his eyes at her.

"like what?" gio asked. "it's personal business stuff, g. don't worry about it, okay? i'll be fine. but did your dad take you guys out for breakfast like he said he would?" she changed the subject with a smile.

gio avoided eye contact with her which she automatically meant no.

"h-he just forgot. that's all." he stuttered a bit. sara tried to remain as calm as she could. she didn't want to lash out in front of her baby and took a mental note to talk to mattia tonight about not taking the kids out for breakfast.

"you don't have to lie to me, ya know? i won't get mad at him." she sighed and gave her son a reassuring look. "when i woke up this morning he wasn't here. he sent me a text as well saying that something came up and he had to go meet up with his manager for a gig." he simply explains. "so i made breakfast for us instead and lunch too. he sent us money for post mates but i was just mad-" he stopped himself from venting to his mother about his father.

"i didn't use the money. that's all." he shrugs as sara looks at him with sympathy.

"he promised me that he'd try hard for us. to try being more involved... why would he lie?" gio claps his hands together. "sometimes work gets in the way of things, honey. trust me if he could clear his schedule for a whole week just to be with us he would, okay?" the fact that sara was defending mattia wasn't something she wanted to do.

she had to because she didn't want her son to think bad about his own father, she was trying to protect at least both of them.

after their little conversation sara made dinner while the kids were being entertained by the activities they were doing before she got home. as sara looked over at the clock, she sighed.

it was seven o' clock and mattia still wasn't home. usually he'd send his wife a text saying that he was going to be home late but when sara checked her phone she had no new messages. the kids were now sitting at the table with their mother. she sneaked a quick text to mattia before eating with her babies.

sara: are you on your way yet?

she got no response after she sent it. she called twice and still nothing. she was beyond livid at this point. first, he didn't take the kids out for the day, then he doesn't respond to her text or calls her back? this was the third time this month that this occurred. she didn't show it but she was pissed off at dinner and while she tucked this kids into bed.

"is daddy gonna tuck me in too?" ellie asked as she held onto her stuffed giraffe. "yes, baby. of course. when he gets home i'll tell him to come and give you a kiss, okay?" sara's soft voice said as she placed a strand of hair behind her ear. ellie simply smiled at her mother.

"goodnight, angel. te amo." sara kisses ellie's nose. "buenas noches, mommy. te amo mas." the two giggled. once sara finishes tucking in her kids, she goes to her bathroom to take a shower. she then changed into some house shorts and one of mattia's shirts that fit her like a dress.

she went to the living room and ate ice cream as she watched good girls. without even knowing it, she fell asleep on the couch. she was woken up by someone whispering her name softly and rubbing her cheek gently with their palm.

she opened her eyes to see mattia with a smile. oh how much she wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his stupid face.

"did you make dinner?" he questions her. "yeah. we ate already so i put your plate in the fridge. now if you excuse me i'm going to bed." she was too tired to deal with him right now. she would have to be up bright and early tomorrow for meetings and such so she just didn't want to argue with her husband right now.

she got up from the couch and tried walking away but mattia reached out for her hand to stop her.

"you guys didn't wait for me? what happened to family dinners?" he asks with a pout as he held her hand. she quickly glanced at the clock on the wall for a time check.

2:34 a.m.

"i was not gonna wait till now to eat with you and neither were the kids, mattia. family dinners means that everyone has to be here at reasonable times." she sighs and glares at him. "where were you anyways, mattia? it's past midnight and you barely got home." she questions quickly and changed the subject.

"i was out. it's not a big deal, babe." he scoffs at her.

"not a big deal? if it's not a big deal then why can't you tell me where you were?" she remarked quickly and crossed her arms over her chest.

mattia gives her a look, as if she was crazy or something. all she wanted to know was where he was at, what was so hard about that?

he started walking to the kitchen, sara quickly followed him.

"sara, i've had a long day. please don't start with me right now..." he huffs as he opens the fridge and grabs his plate of cold food. "says the guy who comes home late smelling like alcohol and cigarettes." she looks at him from across the island.

"i didn't do shit! all i did was go to a bar with alejandro and alvaro after i finished my meetings. they drank but i didn't because i knew you'd react like this and treat me like some kid!" he was getting frustrated with her at this point, he showed it by banging his fist on the island. his breath reeked of alcohol so she was even more pissed off that he was lying to her about drinking.

"all i wanted to do was come home to my wife and kids. a nice home cooked meal and after the kids go to bed and we all settle down, maybe some good sex with my wife but i can't have that can't i? ever since you've gotten this attitude all you ever do is complain! you're on bitch mood twenty four seven, sara!" he was now raising his voice at her.

sara had no energy to argue with him right now. literally nothing left. she had a long day, she just wanted to sleep. she looked at him with tired eyes, she scanned his facial expression and saw the anger he always had all of a sudden now. right now she ignored it and walked away, but he didn't let her.

"where the fuck are you going?" he turned her around a little bit too rough. "to bed, mattia! i'm too tired to deal with your bullshit right now." she stated as she tried not to yell at him.

"whatever. go ahead, walk away. that's all you're good at since you can't do anything right. you definitely can't be a good wife." his words felt like knives. she felt like her heart was getting stabbed completely, over and over again.

she walked off, pretending that what he just said didn't phase her and went upstairs quietly so she wouldn't wake the kids.

little did she know, gio was hiding behind a pillar near the stairs where he heard everything.

she went to the room which she shared with her "husband" and jumped into bed. she laid in bed for a minute, thinking about what mattia said. his words repeating in her head like that one song that could never get out of your head.

"you definitely can't be a good wife."

those venomous words scared her pretty much. she couldn't believe he said that... why would he say that? was she really not a good wife? what was she doing that made her so horrible to him? was it the kisses? was it her cooking? was it her looks? was it the sex? the constant need of having him around? what was it?

whatever it was made her feel like she wasn't good enough which was not the case.

sara was always good enough.

she cried herself to sleep that night. and hours later she felt his presence next to her body, his arms wrapped around her keeping her warm but it didn't make her feel loved like it usually did. no, she had a different feeling. she felt like she was in bed with a stranger. why was she feeling this way? shouldn't she be happy that he was still willing to sleep in the same bed with her?

all the questions she thought of made her feel more insecure, not about herself but about her marriage with the man she loved so much. the last thing she wanted was to lose him, it would ruin her.

she hopes for an apology of some sort. perhaps a date to make it up, she'd be willing to forgive him. she knows he lied about not drinking, mattia could never say no to not have a beer or three with the boys. he wasn't thinking straight, she knows her husband too well.

he just didn't want to admit that he was drinking because he didn't want to feel more guilt than he was already feeling since he missed out on dinner.

so the next morning she was woken up by the smell of pancakes and bacon. she went downstairs and saw gio and mattia cooking at the stove, auggie and ellie coloring on the table while luke looked sleep deprived as he walked into the kitchen with his mom.

"morning, amor." mattia walks over to her holding a plate of stacked pancakes with all the works. he bends down a bit to kiss her oh so sweetly, they both smile into the kiss. "i handled everything you needed to do today so we can all spend quality family time and to start off the day i thought of making breakfast." he hands her the plate where she takes it and sits at the table. once everyone is served the all began to eat.

"you have to cook more, pop. these smack!" auggie speaks as he licks his lips. "maybe i will." mattia laughs as he looks over at his son. "how'd you sleep, ma?" gio asked simply. the way he asked her sounded like he knew something (which he did since he heard what his father told his mom last night) but no one thought too much of it.

"good, baby." she lied with a smile. gio could tell that she was lying but he wasn't going to confront her about eavesdropping on her and mattia.

they all ate breakfast in peace and with joy. gio couldn't stop looking at his mom and dad. especially, his mom since she seemed so happy. didn't mattia's drunk words hurt her? was she really pretending that nothing happened between her and her husband? he couldn't believe she was still protecting mattia after what he told her.

"what's up with you?" luke nudges his older brother's elbow slightly. "what?" was gio's response. "you keep on staring at mom. i get that she's beautiful but it's starting to look weird now. quit it." luke let out a dry chuckle after he spoke.

gio just rolled his eyes and finished his breakfast. once the family finished eating they were told to get ready for a day out. mattia said that he'd be taking them out to the carnival since it happened to be in town.

"hey, can we talk?" mattia closed the door behind him as he walked into his bedroom. sara was sitting at her vanity deciding what necklace to wear that she had in her jewelry box.

"yeah, what's up?" she nods and turns her body to face him. he sits in the edge of their bed as she sat across from him in her spinning stool.

"first off, i want to apologize for last night. i know i should've gave you a heads up about dinner and coming home late. yes, i did drink and i didn't mean any of what i said. i was drunk and stupid. i'm sorry, mamas." he gave a look filled with guilt and he really didn't mean those things that he told her last night.

"tia... i accept your apology, okay? you just had me worried because you weren't texting or calling me back. and i just had a stressful day overall yesterday." she sighed. "i know, baby. you shouldn't be overworking yourself either. i also took the liberty of organizing all of your meetings and handling the little things for your project. i know you've wanted this for the longest time and i hate to see you so worrisome about the little things, babe. i wanted to help you." he explains which made her heart feel a certain way. only he was able to give her that feeling as crazy as it sounds.

"i really do have the best husband in the world, huh?" she giggles. "and i have the best wife ever. being all sexy and shit." he winks at her which makes her blush.

"come give me a kiss." he adds and she obeys. she gets up from her chair and straddles mattia's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and plays with his hair. she dips her head down, he catches her lips with his own. the kiss was soft and sweet, all of their worries seemed to wash away. almost as if all their problems went away as well... boy were they in for it.

[msjr0119]

Birthday One Shot

A/N1: So it’s my girls birthday today. My favourite drunk partner. Hope you have had a fabulous day @drakexwillow !!! I can’t wait to have an alcoholic drink with you and fall asleep again 😆

A/N2: Some of the dialogue used was actually texts between us. I’ve rushed this as I’ve been busy passing out all weekend - bypass any stupid grammar mistakes 🤣

A/N3: Thank you to your other half, ‘Beany’ for helping me out with some things- I hope he didn’t spoil it for you ❤️👍🏼

Book: The Royal Romance (A/U)

Pairing: Drake Walker (Michiel Huisman) x Willow Downing (Jessica Lowndes)

Song inspirations:

Gun Machine Kelly- Drunk Face

Gun Machine Kelly- Hangover Cure

Mood- 24kGoldn and Ian Dior

Warnings: Adult language, mention of sex, mention of being drunk.

Tags: Thinking of those who like Drake x MC especially Willow- don’t feel obliged to read if you don’t want to 😊

@drakexwillow @burnsoslow @axwalker @annekebbphotography @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @bascmve01 @yukinagato2012 @lodberg @cordonianroyalty @texaskitten30 @nomadics-stuff

****

Drake Walker had been dating Willow Downing for many years now. Every birthday that came around he always struggled with new ideas about what to do for the love of his life. At times he was tempted to ask for advise from his closest friends Maxwell and Sophie- however, if he did that he knew that it would just end in a disaster. A big drunken mess. He would usually impersonate a babysitter for the three of them, especially Willow. Thinking back to past birthdays, she wasn’t a bad drunk. Or was she? There had been times when she would get the ‘munchies’- gather food everywhere then not clean up after herself. Rice. That was the worse time for this common food reoccurrence. If it wasn’t the issue of food, there was the spilt drinks residue surrounding the place instead. Which Drake had to clean up. One of the worse ‘Willow moments’ since they had began dating had been when she vomited in their bed- and all down herself, Drake had turned into a domesticated goddess for the night. Stripping the bed, before assisting her in the shower. Oh, then there was the time when Maxwell and Willow had gotten matching tattoos of a peacock with the words ‘House Beaumont Rules’ sprawled underneath it. That night was karma in Drake’s eyes. Regardless of her drunk past antics, he loved her with all of his heart and wouldn’t change it for anything. She was the one.

****

🎶Why you always in a mood?

Fuckin' 'round, actin' brand new

I ain't tryna tell you what to do

But try to play it cool

Baby, I ain't playing by your rules

Everything look better with a view🎶

“I’m not in a mood!” Drake defended himself- as his other half entered the kitchen singing. Yes, he was known to be the moody one. The one that always wore a scowl. But for once he wasn’t ‘in a mood’. Not for now anyway.

“Sometimes you are. But no, it’s a song. You really need to get down with the kids Drake and watch TikTok.” Snuggling behind him, it was the best option as she knew exactly what his expression would be like. Hearing a heavy sigh escape from him- soon she felt him relax, both feeling content.

Fucking TikTok. He muttered to himself. The social media app had become his worse nightmare recently. When they laid in bed on a night, she would promise him that she was only watching it for five minutes. That five minutes soon turned into an hour, which then elaborated into sometimes three or four hours. By that time he had fallen asleep. No intimacy. It’s a phase- she will soon get bored. Again, he wouldn’t change his relationship with her.

****

Later on that night after they had eaten, Drake had put one of Willow’s favourite TV series on. Usually she would be ‘glued’ to it- no matter how many times she had seen this specific episode.

“I thought that you’d want to watch The Office? But instead you’re just listening to that garbage. Can’t we just have one night with no TikTok or listening to him?” After his original snappy attitude, that turned eventually into a plead- Drake attempted to make eye contact with her. Knowing full well that she wasn’t fully listening to him.

“But, he’s amazing. Gorgeous. Sexy.....” Swooning deep down inside as she expressed this, Willow eventually locked eyes with a now pissed off boyfriend. Before TikTok became a ‘thing’, she was in a similar situation whenever a new game for the PlayStation was released. Karma at its best.

“Obviously not as sexy as you though Mr Walker.” Attempting to redeem her previous words, Drake responded with only an eye roll. Maybe she was slightly addicted to Machine Gun Kelly and TikTok. In all honesty, lockdown was to blame for this ‘addiction’. Being stuck in the house. With nothing to do. Well, there was other things to do. Most time spent to begin with was the two of them entangled in each other.

“I’m sorry, Drake. Allow me to listen to one song, then we will watch this- no phones. Just Drillow time.” A smile finally crept upon his face. Finally she was cooperating with him in his mind.

“Sounds like a good deal. Which song are you going to choose?” He asked, not that he was bothered or interested. Just eager to spend time without any distractions.

“I like too many songs- I’ll try and pick a favourite...’Drunk face’. It’s off his new album. ‘Hangover cure’ is also a good one by him.” I bet it is.

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t listened to it.” Faking a sincere yet interested tone of voice, Willow was still debating which song to hum and listen along too. Just hurry up and chose one.

“I can’t believe he’s with Megan Fox and he keeps using her in his music videos it’s so cute.” Getting easily distracted again, Drake bit his lip as she did this in a silent frustration.

“I thought that Megan Fox was still with Brian Austin what’s his face?” Surprisingly, he wasn’t aware of their unexpected split when it was breaking news in the show business world.

“No they split up the start of the year I think it was....I didn’t think they’d look that cute together and pictures of them together he towers over her and it makes them look adorable.” Like us, Drake compared the celebrity couple to themselves as he always towered over a ‘shorter’ Willow.

🎶Wake up, still drunk from last night

The first dates are always uncomfortable

Stayed up, I couldn't sleep last night

I'll admit, I'm a little dysfunctional

Are you okay with the fact I'm a little off track, to be honest

I've been through relationships, I've never been in love, but I want this 🎶

“Anyway, let’s finish watching this before my birthday tomorrow.” Finally placing her phone out of reach, Drake couldn’t quite believe that she had detached herself from it. Almost hallucinating due to the fact.

****

The two of them didn’t quite finish watching the episode. One thing led to another. Clothes were scattered all over the floor, before Drake had carried Willow bridal style to their bedroom. The rest of the night was bliss, an early gift for the birthday girl. Walker style.

Knowing that it was now officially her birthday, she snuggled into the soft warm sheets with a content feeling. Subconsciously she had dreamt about how Drake would make her day special. As he always did. Rolling over, there was no sign of him. Blinking her eyes she believed that she could possibly still be half asleep- that was until the realisation of the sun peeping through the cracks of the blinds. Forcing herself out of bed, she searched the house for Drake with no avail. Wondering what he was upto, she put those thoughts to the side for now and got ready for the day. Her day. A day that she had planned to be filled with fun and laughter with the people closest to her. He will be back before I’m finished.

An hour later, the wanderer still hadn’t returned. Willow had become slight panic stricken before the banging on the door distracted her pondering any further.

“Happy birthday!” The two friends shouted enthusiastically before pulling her in for a group hug. A hug that could have potentially suffocated her. “Where’s Drake?”

“I... I don’t know. It’s not like him to leave without saying goodbye at least, Soph.”

“Well it’s eleven o’clock. Never too early for a birthday cocktail. It’s the evening somewhere in the world. Maxwell sort the birthday girl out with a drink.”

“Yes ma’am. Come on, Lo.” Sophie watched the two of them disappear out of sight before dialling the number on her phone.

“Drake. Where are you?”

“I’m just getting Lo a present, I’ll be back soon Soph. I promise.”

“A present? How long have you been together? You should be more prepared Drake! You know it’s her birthday. This is not the time to go awol, Walker. Or at least explain to her where you are going!”

“Sophie, just please.... just distract her with some shit off of TikTok. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

An hour or so later after Sophie’s and Drake’s brief conversation- there was a quiet knock at the door, which made them all question who it could be. They had arranged to have a quiet time together as a foursome. Threesome at the moment. As far as they was concerned in the morning; the three of them didn’t want to wake up still drunk from last night. They were still young, wasting their youth. Promising to grow up next summer. They didn’t want Drake to always be in a mood.

“You girls carry on drinking, I’ll get the door.” Maxwell suggested as he leapt off of the bar stool.

“May I help you?” Maxwell questioned as he peered through the peep hole with one eye shut and the other attempting to examine the mystery person. In all honesty, it didn’t help that he was already slightly tipsy. He would be useless as an eye witness.

“It’s me you idiot! Are you going to open MY door?”

“You sound like Drake, but you don’t look like him. How do I not know that you’re here to rob us by impersonating my bestie?”

“One. Do you think that I’d dress like this if I was going to rob you? Two... you are not my bestie Beaumont!”

“Wow! You’re really good at this whole Drake Walker act.”

“Just fucking let me in Maxwell, before I throttle you!”

“How much is Drake paying you? He would actually say something like that to me... okay, I’ll ask you a couple of questions. If you get them right you can come in Drake.” Empathising the name, Maxwell still wasn’t convinced that it really was Drake. His drunk mind wondered why he wouldn’t just use his key and allow himself in.

“What’s my middle name?”

“Percival.”

“Lucky guess. What’s my peacocks name back home?”

“Petunia. Now get the chain off and let me in!” Oh that’s why he couldn’t get in. I forgot that I put the chain on when me and Sophie first arrived. Doh! Safety first!

“Drake it is you!” No shit Sherlock. “You look a complete knobhead by the way. Welcome to Chateau A La Walker.”

“Leave the French talking to someone who can actually express the language, Max.”

“Colson?” Drake sighed looking at Willow. Knowing how ridiculous this whole situation was. “Drake?”

“Tonight Matthew I’m going to be Colson Baker- Machine Gun Kelly. I’ve even got some nail varnish so you can do what Megan does to him in that music video. I’ve got red, pink, purple, black........”

“Drake... I like him and his music. But I love you. I love you for you... why are you doing this?”

“Do you love me more than him and TikTok?” Now that is a predicament to be in. Hmmm...

“Of course I do, you idiot.”

“Thank fuck for that! This wig was itching me too much.” Relieved to finally take it off, he flung it onto the floor- not caring how much it had cost him to recreate somebody else’s look.

“You don’t suit blonde hair anyway. These tattoos are so realistic.” Willow smiled softly towards him.

“Erm....”

“Erm?”

“Well... the reason... that... they look so realistic.....”

“Oh my god you didn’t!”

“Well these ones are just stick on ones. I did have one done this morning- hence why I’m late. I’m sorry.”

“I NEED TO SEE THIS!”

“You will later..... I promise.”

“He’s probably had it done on his arsehole or something? Can’t be as bad as Maxwell’s ‘Turn Back Now’ Pennywise balloon tattoo above his ass.” Sophie suggested and explained with an oblivious Maxwell not understanding why suddenly he was the clown of the group. Drake couldn’t help but blush thinking about his surprise tattoo, in his mind it was ridiculous- he had regretted it as soon as it had began.

“Drake? Are you going to show me? It is my birthday after all...” Fluttering her eyelashes, he was done for. Simple gestures such as these turned him into a big ball of mush.

“Follow me to the bathroom. I’ll show you....” Stripping off out of the ‘rapper’ clothes that he had borrowed to complete his MGK look- he wrapped a towel around him in a flash. Not wanting to spoil the surprise immediately.

“So... don’t laugh, Lo. On the count of three- okay?” She couldn’t contain her excitment, being too eager and intrigued about the tattoo- she quickly whipped the towel away.

“Oh my god. You had a tattoo in honour of me.... Don’t you ever, criticise me for getting a tattoo. The peacock one- I was drunk. You had no excuse to get this. I might actually cry- with laughter. I love you, Drake Walker. Best birthday present EVER! I’ll get us both a drink. Come back into the kitchen when you’re ready.”

Not so little Walker- property of Willow ⬇️

Those words would now be permanently written across his pubic bone. Yes, it would be humiliating if anybody other than Willow found out the true extent of this tattoo. But what would be more embarrassing was if she was to reject his second surprise of the day now her name was on him for life.

[omnivorousshipper]

Hi, I saw you were taking requests and I've always loved your writing! If it's aright, can I ask for a sweet Hattie and Deckard sibling bonding story? In H&S before the Somoa battle, Hattie said something like, after they get home she'll get to know her brother again, maybe something along those lines (doesn't have to, whatever you have inspiration for)? Thanks!

Hi! Thanks for the request friend! I am so sorry this took so long to get out. After my state was put into lockdown, I’ve been bogged down with work and school even worse than before the virus hit the US. Sorry this isn’t much, but I hope you enjoy it!

Hattie bit her lip as she stood in front of the door. It was a perfectly normal door, no discernible features that would make it stand out in a crowd of doors. But, the door meant so much. Behind that door, was her brother. The one she had thought had betrayed not only his team, but his country and everything it stood for. The brother she thought had betrayed her. The one she had made sure not to contact for years, the one she had ignored, even when she had heard rumors that he had gone to prison. She had made sure any news surrounding him and the rest of her family would never reach her. 

Taking a shaky breath, Hattie gripped the handles of the cloth bag she was holding. When they had gotten back to London and parted ways, Deckard had given her a small smile, his eyes softening around the edges, and had offered to cook her anything she wanted, as long as she brought the ingredients. When he had offered, Hattie felt her heart soar; it had been so long since she had been able to have his cooking. 

When she had been a kid, just coming home from primary school, she would always run into the kitchen and right into Deckard. Their mother was usually out of the country, doing something to further her little criminal empire, while their father was either off at work or the pub. Which left Deckard to take over the kitchen and make sure his siblings had something to eat. 

She could still vividly remember the smells of fresh bread, fatty roasts, and just baked cookies wafting through the air as she stepped through the door of their house. Even the sound of Deckard laughing as she and Owen fought over the last dinner roll was crystal clear. It seemed as if half of her childhood was spent in that kitchen. From studying for all her exams at the dining table and listening to Deckard moving around the kitchen, to sitting on the kitchen floor and crying, eating ice cream straight from the tub, while Deckard told her her ex-boyfriend didn’t deserve her. 

Now, here she was again, just about  to walk through another door and into the kitchen Deckard no doubt was already prepping. 

But, it felt as if something was keeping her rooted to the floor and making her arms feel full of lead and unable to knock on the door in front of her. 

What if Deckard saw her and decided he actually didn’t want to make up with her? What if she had truly severed their relationship and nothing was salvageable? 

Similar thoughts flew through Hattie’s mind, making a lump form in her throat. It would take severe torture for her to admit it, but she had missed her family desperately. Through the long years of not talking to him, there were many times she wanted to pick up the phone and hear her brother’s voice. But, she had stayed strong and instead threw herself into her work to distract herself. Now, she knew that it was all for naught. If she had had picked up the phone, maybe she would have listened, maybe she wouldn’t be standing outside of Deckard’s door, eight years later, unable to simply knock. 

No, I wouldn’t have, Hattie thought sadly. She knew herself too well; there was no way she would have forgiven Deckard back then. It wasn’t until she was betrayed herself that she finally saw reason. 

Letting out a long breath, Hattie shifted the weight of her purse on shoulder, trying to ignore what was inside. She was not anxious just to have dinner with Deckard, but to show him the documents she had on her as well. They were papers that would allow Deckard to come back to MI6, no questions asked.

Hattie had fought tooth and nail to make the higher ups to evaluate Deckard’s case and admit they had been wrong about him. And it wasn’t too hard afterwards to suggest that they bring him back, after all, what’s better than having one Shaw? Two.

And maybe three, if Oh ever picks up the damn phone, Hattie huffed to herself. Owen would always be a stubborn arse, but she was sure she could win him over eventually. He was an adrenaline junky and she knew he would love doing spy work, outsmarting criminals, other spys, and whoever was considered a threat by the British government.

But.

It was Deckard she was concerned about. He seemed content to live peacefully, a few jobs here and there to keep him active, but for the most part, he preferred to stay in London and enjoy life. Hattie had no idea if he would actually want to come back to the people who had thrown him out and hunted like a dog for years. 

Hattie just hoped that being able to work with her would be enough to convince him to come back. 

With that last thought, Hattie squared her shoulders and finally knocked on the door in front of her. It took a few moments, but it finally opened, revealing a smiling Deckard. He was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt that hung loosely on his frame. 

“Hey, Hatts,” he greeted softly and moved aside to let her in. “What did ya bring?”

“Ingredients for shepherd’s pie,” she said sheepishly. It wasn’t sophisticated or anything, but it would always be one of her favorite dishes. Stepping past Deckard, she kicked her shoes off. She felt fingers brush hers as Deckard took the cloth bag and started to look through it. Hattie had to stifle a laugh as he pulled out the box of Jaffa Cakes she had hidden at the bottom of the bag. 

“Really, Hatts?” Deckard asked, raising an eyebrow, but she could see his eyes dancing with humor. “Did you really think I didn’t have my own?”

“You can never have enough,” she shrugged, a smirk playing on her face. 

“Damn right,” Deckard smiled back. He put the bag down, and opened his arms for Hattie. Without even thinking, she rushed into him with enough force to make him let out a small wheeze, but she didn’t care as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She felt him wrap his own arms around her as she leaned her forehead against his. 

They simply stayed like that for a long minute, enjoying being close to each other again, knowing that the other was finally there.

Hattie didn’t care that her bag was digging into her shoulder, or that several of the ingredients she had brought would need to be refrigerated. The only thing that mattered in that moment was Deckard. The way his arms grounded her, made her feel as if she was finally home after years of being lost. She could feel tears pooling behind her closed eyelids as she felt Deckard tighten his grip.

“It’s nice to have you back, Hatts,” Deckard whispered.

Hattie could only nod, too scared to say anything in fear of letting out the sob she could feel trapped in her throat. 

After a few moments, Hattie felt Deckard’s arm loosen and let her go. Hattie had to stop herself from jerking forward and grabbing him, not wanting to let him go. But she knew that she needed to. After all, they wouldn’t want the ingredients to go to waste.

“Come on,” Deckard said, picking the bag. “Promised you a dinner, didn’t I?”“That you did,” Hattie nodded and watched Deckard turn and walk deeper into the house. When he turned his back on her, she quickly scrubbed at her eyes, hoping he hadn’t seen the tears there. Readjusting her purse, Hattie followed after Deckard and was finally able to see where he had been living for the past few years. 

The living room and connected kitchen space was very modern, with grey and white undertones with the many windows letting the space feel larger than it was. Hattie wasn’t surprised to see that Deckard’s kitchen was so spacious. He had always complained that their family home’s kitchen was too small, especially when he had to deal with Hattie and Owen always running around in it. 

“Make yourself at home,” Deckard called out to her as he started to unpack her bag and move around the kitchen, grabbing everything he would need for their meal. Hattie felt a corner of her mouth twitch involuntarily, turning into the beginnings of a smile. It was nice to see him so relaxed and doing something he loved.

Sitting down at the kitchen island, Hattie set her bag down on the stool next to her. She eyed it, wondering when she would bring up the papers she had. Knowing Deckard, his mood would immediately sour when she said anything even hinting at him and MI6. Deciding to let the issue rest until dinner was over, Hattie turned her attention back to Deckard. His hands were already peeling potatoes, moving so quickly Hattie could barely keep track of the movement.

“So,” Hattie started, getting Deckard’s attention. “What have you been up to lately?”

“Nothin’ much,” he grunted. “Took a local job, but it wasn’t too exciting. Just keeping an eye on an expensive painting and taking down any thieves trying to get their grubby hands on it.”

“You’re really selling yourself out as a paint watcher?” Hattie couldn’t keep the hint of a sneer off her face as she asked. She expected better of Deckard. 

“Oi, don’t go knockin’ me,” Deckard said, pointing the peeler at her. “I did it as a favor to our cousin Jamie.”

“Of course it was for him.” Hattie rolled her eyes. Their cousin was a driving force in the black market of expensive paintings. But then something occurred to her. “Wait. I thought he was working with Interpol now?”

Deckard let out a snort of amusement.

“As if that would stop him from making forgeries and selling them to rich folks. Him joining Interpol just means he gets to screw over his competitors.”

“That definitely sounds like the guy who took us on our first bank heists.”

Deckard rolled his eyes as Hattie smiled at him. “I wish he had waited to take you on yours. Seven year olds should not be robbing banks.”

“But you were six when he took you on your’s,” Hattie shot back.

“And knew how to pick locks better than both of you and Oh combined.”

“Hey!” Hattie pouted. “I was pretty good!”

Deckard raised an eyebrow, a smirk growing on his face.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes!”

“Then why do I remember having to get a pair of handcuffs off you when you were nine?”

“It was a fluke. They had come off hundreds times before,” Hattie huffed. “They just refused to come off that one time.”

“Mmhm.”

Hattie might have been pouting, but on the inside, she couldn’t have been happier. It felt so nice to hear Deckard joking around and teasing her again.

“At least I knew how to lock things,” Hattie casually said, and felt a small thrill at seeing Deckard’s head whip up from where he was cutting up carrots to give her a sharp look. “If I remember right, it was you who let a seagull into the house because you refused to lock the windows.”

“How was I supposed to know it would come in?” Deckard grumbled, and Hattie’s nose wrinkled in delight as she saw a small blush of embarrassment on Deckard’s cheeks. It was always satisfying when she could tease him right back.

“And ruin Mum’s house party?” She added. 

That comment earned her a glare and a piece of carrot thrown at her head. She let out a laugh as she batted the piece away from her face. It felt freeing to tease someone who knew when she was teasing and not have people getting offended. Even if they hadn’t talked in years, it seemed as if Deckard still knew everything about her, down to her tone. 

Picking up the piece of carrot, Hattie lobbed it at Deckard’s head in return. Unfortunately, it didn’t hit, but it was still wonderful to hear Deckard laugh as he dodged it. 

“Oi! Don’t go throwing things in my kitchen!”

“You started it!”

Both siblings fell into a fit of laughter, the noise expanding and seemed to fill the whole room. Smiles never left their faces as they chatted, teased, and threw a few more vegetables at each other. Hattie watched as Deckard effortlessly moved around his kitchen, handled every utensil with ease, and made, in Hattie’s opinion, the perfect shepherd’s pie. As he slid the dish into the oven to cook, Hattie looked around the place again, and a hallway leading further into the house caught her attention.

Getting up from her stool, Hattie padded her way over to what caught her eye. Hanging in the hallway was a large framed picture of the queen. However, Hattie had never seen the queen like this: the monarch had her eyes closed. 

“Deck,” Hattie called out. “Is this real?”

She couldn’t take her eyes off the picture. It was all in pink shades and seemed surreal as it perfectly showed the queen with her eyes shut. So few pictures like it exist; probably only ten exist, if Hattie remember correctly.

“Oh, that? It’s real. Owen found it somehow and for some reason thought it would be a good purchase.” And even though Hattie wasn’t looking at him, she could hear the eye roll in his voice. 

“And he just thought to give it to you and not keep it for himself?” She asked and finally tore her eyes away from the picture and walked back into the kitchen. 

“Well, he can see it whenever he wants here.”

“He visits that much?”

Hattie had guessed that Owen and Deckard had continued to be close to each other, but Owen wasn’t the one to visit others frequently. 

“Well,” Deckard started and didn’t meet her eyes. “He lives here, more like.”

“Really?” Hattie swore her eyebrows were in her hairline. “Owen is living with you? Why? Can’t he find his own place?”

“We both know he could easily find his own place,” Deckard admitted. 

“But, he’s just a lazy bastard,” Hattie finished. Deckard gave her a half smile, not verbally agreeing, but the look in his eyes confirmed it.

At least it’ll be easy to find him, Hattie thought to herself. She had worried that when she did try to find him and talk to him, that she would have to travel halfway across the world to do so. The thought had her looking back at her purse, the papers once again invading her mind. After dinner. I’ll show them to Deck then.

“The pie is going to take some time to cook, you want to watch something while we wait?”

Deckard’s voice brought Hattie out of her thoughts. Glancing at him, he was drying his hands on a dish towel, his head cocked to the side, waiting for her response. 

“Sure, what did you have in mind?”

“I have the first few seasons of the Crystal Maze.”

“Really!” Hattie nearly shouted in glee. When she had been in secondary school, she and her brothers would squeeze together on the small couch in their living room, all three excitedly watching the show. Their shouts of frustrations at the contestants’ stupidity could be heard from all over the house, and sometimes from the neighbors next door, as they loved to complain to the siblings’ mother.

Deckard chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Really.”

Hattie excitedly followed him over to the couch and threw herself down right next to him. She folded her legs under her and cuddled up to Deckard’s side, watching the TV intently as he finally got the show on screen. 

It felt almost like she had been transported to the past as the theme song came on, making Hattie feel as if the last few years hadn’t happened and she was once again a happy and go lucky child who could always go to her big brother for help. Sneaking a glance at him, Hattie knew that that had never changed. Even though she hadn’t believed him and cut him out of her life, Deckard had still been there to help her survive Eteon. He had still been a big brother and helped her in every single way he could. 

Turning her attention back to the show, Hattie laid her head on Deckard’s shoulder and felt him lay his head on top of her’s. Every anxiety she had about coming here tonight was gone as she felt a calm she hadn’t felt in years come over her. Letting out a content sigh, Hattie decided not to bring up the papers that night. She didn’t want to spoil such a nice reunion. 

[flameontheotherside]

Interview with Autumn Wells

Today I reached out to Autumn for a little interview about her experience with her TF in spirit, Jimi Hendrix. 

Me: Thanks for agreeing to this interview. For my readers, I thought it would be nice for them to get to know you a little bit especially if you are planning to contribute by submitting your input here on this very blog. I think we all appreciate you sharing your story and that it’s exciting to meet yet another “spiritual widow”.  You would be the 4th one I’ve met with a TF inspirit who was a musician! 

This experience can be difficult but of course has its rewards as we learn and grow from this. It’s great and comforting to know you’re not alone. This was something Erik stressed to me all last month while I wasn’t feeling my best. So I really don’t feel you reaching out when you did was in any way a coincidence. There’s no doubt also that Jimi Hendrix is a legend who inspired many and had an amazing talent. 

Autumn: Thank you so much for interviewing me. I really appreciate it. I'm glad you enjoy the blog! It's funny, but when many people describe how it is to hear Jimi Hendrix play for the first time, they're blown away, too! :)

Me: Where are you from? Are you American?

Autumn: I come from the USA, and I'm a young African-American woman in my twenties. I like to create art, stories, and other artistic projects. Jimi is African-American, too. We both come from mixed backgrounds, with Native American and European ancestors in our backgrounds, too, but our African roots are the strongest.

Me: Are you spiritual or religious?

Autumn: I consider myself more spiritual rather than religious. I do learn a lot of wisdom from different religions, but I don't follow any one religion in particular. I believe in God, through Jesus Christ, but I'm open to shamanic wisdom and many other cultures as well.

Me: I think most of us have a level of intuitiveness. Do you have intuitive or psychic gifts?

Autumn: Yes, I have intuitive and psychic gifts. I've always sensed people's emotions ever since I was little, and the psychic gifts grew stronger as I grew older. They became stronger because of my experience with Jimi's spirit, too. I can type down Jimi's thoughts when he wants to talk and share something with the world. I can also communicate with deceased relatives and other loved ones. Sometimes I sense the emotions of people who are alive on the earth, too. I've had moments where I can psychically detect knowledge about people without really knowing them.

Me: What is Jimi like?

Autumn: Jimi is a sweetheart, really. His personality is the same as it was when he was on the earth. Although he was really flashy on the stage, off the stage he was quiet and so shy. That surprised me in the beginning, because I didn't realize how quiet he was as a person, but the way he is to me is the way he was to many people on the earth - gentle, shy, and loving. He is very intelligent, and he still thinks and dreams in visions, as he did on the earth. He can be romantic, but most of all, he's unconditionally loving.

Me: How do you both communicate?

Autumn: I communicate with Jimi through telepathy, and I often see him with my eyes, too. He can affect my physical reality at times, but not always. For instance, he may draw me to him without me doing anything to move closer to him.

Me: How would you describe your relationship? For instance Erik can be in spirit guide mode which is serious and sometimes we can be friends and more.

Autumn: Yes, Jimi is like a spirit guide, and recently, well... he asked me to be his wife. I was so shocked! :) I didn't expect him to do that. In the past, we've spent many different periods where we were sometimes friends, and other times he was more like a guardian angel. There were also times when we developed a romantic relationship, and we would feel like husband and wife, but Jimi also sometimes would withdraw from my life if he felt I needed to have new experiences on the earth. So for us, we've experienced many different kinds of love on our journey, but right now, he asked me to marry him, and I said yes, after nearly fainting, haha.

Me: How does Jimi appear to you?

Autumn: Jimi looks the way he did on the earth, and he usually looks very young. He has beautiful brown eyes and a kind smile, and he's about 5.11. He wears colorful clothes and sometimes brings his guitar with him. He still loves to play in the afterlife. Here's a picture of Jimi, I think there's no copyright on it:

Me: Telling someone about this can be hard. Did you have problems explaining to anyone close to you?

Autumn: I did try to tell my mother about Jimi and the experiences I had with him, but it didn't really turn out well. At first, she seemed to believe me, and she even said I was lucky. But then she started to doubt me because she didn't see Jimi the way I did, so she thought maybe I was making it all up because I was just a teenager. My Dad figured it was just my subconscious mind, although it was harder and harder for me to believe it was my subconscious when I started seeing Jimi while I was awake. My mom and dad's disbelief did make this journey very challenging because I had no one I could really turn to. I was not on the internet at the time, so I couldn't reach out to anyone who had a similar experience. The best I could do was keep it to myself, but I trusted in Jimi, and I read all I could about Native American spirituality, and how the Native Americans believed they had guiding spirits to help them in life. That helped me out a bit.

Ironically, though, during the accident incident where I had the near-death vision, my Dad was actually present when he saw me speaking to Jimi in the state I was in. I saw Jimi, and felt him so strongly, even though I was malnourished and in very bad shape. I had no clue I was about to go, because I didn't realize how sick I was, but I knew Jimi, so when I saw him, I had this blissful smile on my face and felt I was in heaven. I saw another deceased relative, too, who had just passed away. When my Dad asked me, "Are you in heaven?" I turned to him and said with tears of joy, "I love you so much, Jimi!" My Dad was shocked, and he said, "Now I know you're in heaven," because he always believed Jimi went to heaven after he passed away at 27 (in 1970). But I think even witnessing that moment I had with Jimi might have been too much for my Dad to comprehend.

Me: What can you tell us about your past lives? 

Autumn: Anyway, about past lives, that's an interesting question, because recently I asked Jimi if we shared any lifetimes together. He told me he didn't want to overwhelm me with too much information, but he did say that we shared a past life in England in the 19th century. He said we had several other lifetimes together, too, but he wanted to start with one at the time. It's really intriguing because I didn't know much at all about England in the 19th century, and Jimi told me about a very detailed experience about his life as a music teacher back then. It turns out that everything he told me, when I searched for the historical context, matches up with that time. I'll write about it on my blog eventually, but yes, this is the first past life we are working on. I don't exactly know how many past lives we've had, but I'm sure Jimi will share more when the time is right. (Jimi loved England in his last lifetime, too; that's where he felt really at home.)

I was a skeptic about reincarnation for the longest, but the evidence has led me to believe it's a reality. There is so much pointing to the fact that we've come to this earth before, and I've had that feeling myself.

Me: We have a twin flame (or spirit spouse) who isn’t living. Most of us have never gotten to meet or be with our counterparts while they were alive. So, it can be difficult. What is the hardest thing about having this experience?

Autumn: I'd say the hardest thing about having this experience, as beautiful as it is, is that most of the loved ones and people around me don't really understand it. I tried to open up about it in the past, but it didn't go over well, so I just keep it to myself. I hope that one day, I can integrate this experience into my life more fully, but right now, I just keep most of the details to myself in my everyday life, and try to find a balance.

Another hard thing in the beginning was dealing with the fact that Jimi died young, and tragically. That really hurt my heart, especially as a child. I just couldn't believe it. I kept asking my Dad, "Why? Why?" because I just couldn't understand why Jimi had to pass on when he was only 27. It took me a long time to accept that he was in the afterlife, but it really helped me when he came to me and told me he was at peace, and he came to me because he loved me, not because he felt haunted.

Me: What are some important things you’ve learned being Jimi’s TF?

Autumn: There are many important things I've learned from this experience, though, and the main thing is learning to trust in God, myself, and Jimi. I've had trust issues throughout my life, to the point where I didn't know if I could even trust Jimi or not, but he helped me to love myself, and love him, too. He showed me unconditional love which really helped to heal my heart, and he was there to guide me through some really difficult times in my life. He also brought me closer to God, who I love, too.

Me: How often do you communicate with each other?

Autumn: Jimi and I talk quite a bit, depending on the flow of my life. Sometimes I spend a lot of time studying, so we don't talk as much (I really need to set aside more talking time!) but I can always feel him near me. Early on, we spoke nearly all the time, and I'd write down a lot of our conversations. That helped me connect a lot of dots later on.

Me: What are some funny or good moments you’ve had?

Autumn: I think there were a few funny moments between us sometimes, but mostly Jimi's pretty serious. But he's serious in a light way, if you know what I mean. He's often smiling and telling me stories about his life on the earth, and he helps children a lot in the afterlife.

Me: Like physical twins (I have a twin brother btw), twin flames or twin souls aren’t always alike. In what ways are you alike? Different?

Autumn: I agree that twin souls don't have to be exactly alike. With Jimi and me, we do happen to be amazingly similar, although we have some differences. We both look similar, especially in the eyes, although we don't look exactly the same. We share a deep interest in spirituality, God, and the afterlife, and neither of us believe in organized religion. We love music and the creative arts, although I tend to get more addicted to writing, and Jimi's addiction was music.

We both experienced ESP and psychic phenomena during our lives on the earth; Jimi said in the 1960's that he saw the spirit of Handel while he was living in the composer's home (you can look it up on the internet if you like, it's really interesting!) He also believed his mother, who passed on at a young age, was watching over him in spirit.

We both have the tendency to be nervous perfectionists with our creative arts. I used to feel kind of bad about driving the people crazy around me with my "everything must be perfect" tendencies, until I found Jimi was the same way. :)

We have a ton more things in common, but we also have a few differences. I'm deeper into writing, while Jimi is more into music. But a lot of our differences are more like different sides of the same coin. For instance, we both grew up in blended families, but the blended family for Jimi came later in his life, when his father remarried, whereas I grew up in a blended family (although I didn't always spend time with my older half-siblings).

Considering that Jimi and I never met on the earth, and he lived and passed on before I was born, it's amazing how our lives and personalities parallel each other. Many of the parallels I didn't even know about until I got older and could get on the internet to research.

Me: How do you think you’d be together if he were alive or reincarnated now as your significant other?

Autumn: I think my life would be different in some ways if Jimi were incarnated as someone else. I used to wish I'd meet a guy like Jimi one day, but I knew it was hopeless because no one else is Jimi, unless he came to the earth again, of course. I do think it's good that Jimi is in spirit, though, because the way my family life is, we probably wouldn't spend much time together if he were incarnate. I don't get into the outside world that much.

If Jimi were incarnated with me, I do think it might work out, but he would have to be free from many of the things which led to him passing away so young. Drugs, for instance, were a problem Jimi dealt with, as well as ruthless people in the music business who took advantage of him. I do believe that in spirit, he has much less to worry about, and that has really helped both of us. So although it would be wonderful to have Jimi physically here with me, I also know that it's best that we connected in this way, because he's in the peace and love of the afterlife. I also think that having Jimi as a spirit guide and partner is wonderful because he can be with me wherever I go in the world, and we don't have physical distance separating us. Sometimes I do long to be where he is, though, in the afterlife. One day, I'll be with him for all time, God willing.

Well, that's it for now! Thanks for asking the really good questions.

Me: Thank you for answering and thank you especially for reaching out and sharing us your story! 

If you guys who are following me or stumbling on this, want to know more about Autumn Wells and her amazing story about being Jimi Hendrix’s twin soul, you can find her blog at:

https://jimiheaven.gonevis.com/

She will also be guest posting here as well so watch out for her content. You can see all her submissions with the tag: #Autumn Wells <--Click that link for the goods!

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

Out Of The Woods (3/?)

This multi chap fic has been one that I've wanted to write for a while. I'm hoping to connect a few loose ends, since my series is getting closer to the end. Don't worry, I still got a couple of fics left in me. I'd love to thank @xerxezra whose conversations with me are always inspirational. I'd also like to thank @dorkydisappointment whose writing got my creative juice flowing and @hoodoo12 who continues to inspire me all the time. Please check out the wonderful art done by @ravenousscorpian for two scenes out of the second chapter of this fic (Her art found here)

References to the woman in Ricks journal is from my fic What You Found Amongst The Pages. I know, that was shameless self promotion. There are a lot of questions that I wanted to answer in you'd chapter, but for the sake of editing had to put it in the next. I'll work on it right as soon as this is posted. Thanks for everyone's continued support. 😘😘😘😘😘😘

If you haven't read part 1 or part2, then heres a link (Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2)

In this fic the reader tries to uncover the mystery of the artist behind Zeta-7s portrait.

___________________________

Chapter 3: Dare Not Say That Man Forgets Sooner

Whatever redeeming qualities the room held in the previous happy hours were gone, and now even the remnant, lingering daydreams were falling away. With every hour you comprehended the severity of your assumptions and what the consequences were if you decided that enough was enough. Honestly, you didn't want to lose him because Zeta-7 was the light of your life; he expanded your universe and had helped you become a better person, but you could still carry on if you needed to. You had the means, your work, and an ever growing list of books to read, but was it enough, now that you had gotten a taste of the good life? Probably not.

Nothing made sense anymore.

Concerning the current situation, and all which led up to it; if you considered everything which included your existence, life till now, and all he had ever done, then there was no mistaking that he loved you; or had; at least thought he did, but it didn't change the truth of the matter; you hadn't been the first. A few hours had given you time to weep until you thought you had no tears left to cry, but there was still a thick fog over your thoughts and rationality; any shift of emotion being too much to bear. You curled into yourself, aching, hoping you'd disappear, but it didn't work; you were still here; stuck. Being at a disadvantage, not knowing how to get home and neither having a way to get there if you could was frustrating.

Who knows how long you'd been down here, despairing, wallowing in memories and dust, but you were tired, thirsty, and knew that if you didn't move he'd have trouble finding you, and yet you didn't care; let him find you; let him work for it. Though, how would that make it any better? All it would do is succeed in upsetting him before you knew all the facts. You hated this. Father always said hate was a strong word that shouldn't be taken for granted; you rarely had reason to feel as such, but the more you gleaned from those photos and the more proof you found of her presence about the place made you feel hateful and bitter.

Thinking of her smiling at him, receiving every bit of his loving-kindness and inviting demeanor animated by unaffected good-will; his general countenance and becoming familiar with a fresher-faced creature of your dreams; holding him; touching him; loving him. Oh God no, you thought, groaning into a handmade pillow. What was worse was that you couldn't dissuade the thought of her mysterious silhouette sneaking up behind you, plunging a knife into your already fragile identity, and taking back what was hers. Your doubt feeding these ugly horrors which were hybrids of nightmares and daydreams.

Though during a brief moment of clarity, you had come to a conclusion which hardly alleviated these feelings, but we're true; it wasn't your fault. Yes, it had been your choice to accept him and be in a proper relationship with someone with an ambiguous past, and yes you did snoop around a little, but you didn't know how much he'd been hiding or searching for someone like her and had settled on silly, stupid you. Yet, no matter how much you thought about it, why chase a vision of the past and put so much effort in the present? There must've been more to this; there had to be.

Manifested, unstinted kindness and consideration and love in his form didn't happen out of the blue, it was nurtured and conditioned. Had it been her influence which made you knew? Who knows, but you had been fortunate to have had an opportunity to associate let alone form a romantic attachment, but that would soon pass away once you confronted him. Right? After a little while longer, when your heart was finally beginning to slow and thought you'd be able to catch your breath, you heard him walking about upstairs; calling and knocking.

Rick was home and you turned over on the couch and covered your ears so you wouldn't hear him; you weren't ready to deal with this; you didn't want to deal with this. In your heart of hearts, you wanted to go home, to the past, back to when there were no problems and it was just you, dad, and your dreams. If only he was still around so that he could tell you that everything was alright and it was all just a bad dream and that he could fix it, but you couldn't; only in a dream, you could. Dad always knew what was best, but you were old enough to decide for yourself now.

Did this mean you wish you never knew Rick? No, but you wished that you would've never known about all this; about her; that you could've lived in ignorance. Oh, the sweet, sweet bliss of ignorance, how wonderful it had been while it lasted. Even when his warm laughter echoed down the stairway, having found you, ready, eager and excitable to be near you, you didn't answer. You knew you weren't in the state of mind to say anything nice, that despite it all he wasn't a bad person. Yet, the moment that hand of his touched your shoulder, you hissed. “Don't touch me.”

He gasped, stunned by this uncharacteristic aggression. Maybe you weren't the nice girl he thought you were after all; especially if the rustling of his clothes alone made you angry enough to dig your nails into the couch cushions. Zeta-7 waited for a few moments, ruminating on what would be the best course of action before he knelt down to be at your level and wondered. “What's wrong? Are y-y-you hurt? Is th-there anything I can do?”

Swallowing back a sob, you silently counted to ten then answered in a listless tone. “I don't know if you can. You've… you've been hiding stuff from me.”

“Huh, I-I have? What have I…”

“Don't try to deny it.”

Pushing yourself up, you rubbed your swollen eyes and chanced a look at him; your sight fuzzy as tears threatened to fall but thankfully didn't. The alarm in his widened eyes at the state of your runny nose, and tear-stained cheeks made him instinctively reach out to wipe your tears away, but you pushed that familiar, loving hand away. “M-mi corazón?”

Instead of answering as you usually would, you pulled out the well-loved copy of Persuasion from behind a pillow, took a deep breath and dropped it on his lap. “I found it while I was looking for something to read.”

“Oh geez.”

“And can you believe I found more than I bargained for.”

You two sat in silence for what felt like hours as he stared at it, and when he gathered the courage to look inside, the lines about his brow and mouth deepened; another sign that it was true. When he finally interrupted the silence, he confessed regretfully. “I-I was going to tell you.”

“But you didn't. There's a lot of things that I understand are none of my business, but this….I think is a good time to know. If you care about me at all, then read what you wrote.”

“But it's - it's not what you think.”

“Then there's nothing be afraid of. Go on then, read it.”

Visibly swallowing, his shaky hands held it open and he stuttered. “I-I-I thought of you today as I left th-the milky way, on my way t-to a classified location. I-I wish you were here so I could show you the beauty that exists across the universe, but knowing our limitations I can only send you this wonderful novel that I found when I was exploring a-a bookstore located on one of Saturn's moons. I-I know it can be hard to believe that Miss Jane Austen's works can reach the furthest depths of-of space, but that can be blamed on a certain Gallifreyan and his little blue box. I can't wait to hear what y-y-you think of it. Till next time my dear. With love, from Rick.”

“Don't forget the photos.”

Setting down the book, he glanced at the discarded photos, sagging a little after each one, gauging your reaction after he finished studying them. Rick was a smart man, he knew well enough that he messed up and how compromising those photos were. “It's not - I was only writing as ugh - as a friend.” He began, wringing his hands as he went on. “Y-y-y-y-you know I don't have that many.”

Which was true. “Really? So what did she do for you? Was she special?”

“She - she made me a little less lonely. That in itself was something I w-was grateful for.”

Your nails bit into your palms and that ever familiar ache bloomed across your chest; his answer birthing more questions than you were willing to ask. He offered you a Werther's original to placate you which you accepted; it's wrapper similar to the one in the painting. As ever he waited for you to answer, and the longer he waited, the more he sagged; his eyes pleading, hoping, wishing that he could know whatever hurt clouded your heart and wanted to fix it. “I want to believe you, I really do,” you admitted, which made him hopeful, though only for you to crush it with this. “but I'm tired of walking on eggshells. Tell me, what did you want from me when you had someone like her? Seems as though she was a good match for you. She was a creative who could paint, loved flowers, and butterflies among other things I imagine.”

“Sh-she did.”

You bit the inside of your cheek in an attempt to hold back the surge of feelings which were a result of his sincerity. Damn it. You could do this……possibly. “See?” you said cooly, focusing your gaze on your naked feet. “I knew she was special considering you sent her a book that had belonged to the Doctor. She also knew about your travels, which meant you trusted her and you hardly trust anyone. The point I'm getting at is that I want to know what I am to you. So, am I a knockoff or a rebound? Because we both know there's nothing like the real thing.”

“N-n-no, not at all. You mean th-the world to me and I-I love you. I have only loved you. ”

“But she loved you, didn't she? And you loved her. I can't ignore that. If she's anything like me, then what are we doing together Ricardo? Why aren't you with her? I…. I thought we understood each other but then I found proof that I was only second best. I can't do it, I can't compete with a shadow, and I'm not going to try. I don't have it in me.”

“I-I-I-I never expected you to. Por favor mi amor de m-mi vida, if you'll let me explain, I'll tell you whatever you want. I - I don't want to lose you. Please, honest t-t-to God, I don't. I can't.”

“Hmm, I didn't know you were a praying man.”

“When you're about t-t-to lose your universe, I don't think there are th-that many options. I can't - oh please I can't lose you. Not again.”

You felt your resolve breaking. You wanted to fall into his arms and melt into the comfort of them; for you both to comfort each other and let it all go because it probably was just a big misunderstanding; him being the best thing that ever happened to you, but not yet. Maybe he was a praying man after all, and if God was merciful, then why wouldn't you be? Rick certainly would. For Zeta-7, you could be. He'd definitely given you enough chances.

“Fine.” you decided, helping him up as you stood, but through this brief touch he almost misunderstood, thinking that the worst was over and gave your hand a squeeze; his warm smile weakening your resolve even further. Maybe Ricks were masters at mind games after all. And you knew it wouldn't take much for him to make you forget how unhappy you were, and like magic, show you something wonderful and dazzling, but you didn't want to be charmed; you wanted the truth. You bit the flesh inside of your cheeks hard enough for you to bleed, and despite relishing the warmth which permeated your chilled hands, you let go. “I'm……I'm not over it yet.”

TBC

[patsallthedogs]

Who the hell are you, Allyson?

Good question, inner-monologue!

Needless to say so much of my life has changed these past 1-2 years, I'm truly a lost soul.

Let me put proverbial pen to paper and let's figure it out.

I'm a person who enjoys a really clicky, flashy keyboard to write out the inner musings of my ever-fluid mind. Know that with every letter input, my soul is fed tiny breadcrumbs of pure joy.

I'm somewhat aged...ish. If I were a crème Brule I would still be in the liquid stage of my gelatinating. I turned 29 a bit over a month ago. But I don't feel 29... I can appreciate that age doesn't necessarily have an assigned feeling, but in my younger years I thought I would have more answers than I currently do. Alas, liquid stage brule. Still hoping to rise.

Ollie has been my pal for nearly 8 years. Circumstances have seen me move, a lot, in the past few years and we've gotten each other through those anxiety-ridden sea-changes. By the way, he's my dog. I know everyone says that, and then they blast their socials with photo after photo of selfies whereby the dog is often struggling to get away from their owner to avoid another 'candid' affection-session. But Ol, he's got my back and our cuddles don't need photographic evidence.

Roughly two-ish years ago, I found yoga. My google search led me to this gorgeous little studio in Blacktown and the practice stole my heart. I try to do it often. Life happens sometimes. But for a gal with next to no coordination, it gives me balance and helps me unwind.

I have a big beautiful bookcase that my late grandfather built me. It's full of books that I've read, and a lot more than I really want to read but never make the time to. When I was younger I found concentrating easy. Now, struggling on the precipice of the 'I do not want to plug-in and text and take pictures of f*cking everything, but I'm turning into a hermit' lifestyle, I find it difficult to sit down for a solid chunk of time and zone out. It's a work in progress though.

I change my hair colour a lot. It's a seesaw between browny/ashy/blondie and like bright red. Can confirm, my original shade is some hue of brown.

Friends is my hands-down, all-time, favourite show. I have seen every season at least 10-15 times. There's 10 seasons. Roughly 20-25 episodes per season at a whopping 24 minutes per episode. I still lose my mind laughing and I have undoubtedly incorporated that sense of humour into my personality. Mini-wave in celebration of me. A woo-hoo!

Need a decision made? Look further. Yep, you read that right. Libras of the world, speak now. I recently read an astrological post about the different sign types and I'll give it some merit. In a nutshell, we overthink a lot, we love hard, and we are constantly seeking resolution and peace. Much like Tinkerbell, if we are not in good company our light will go out.

This year, I am making an active effort to slow down. Mentally, emotionally, physically. My mind is mosh-pit of stampeding animals all trying to cram into an airplane toilet cubicle. Have you ever heard the irony that the fiercest marine animal in the ocean, the shark, must keep swimming or they will die? My brain runs on a similar anomaly. Even when I sleep, I'm thinking.

Like most people, I want to be fundamentally happy. It's my dream. It's the backbone of 99.99998% of decisions I make. About two years ago, I made the decision that my happiness is king. That gumption gave me the bravery to walk away from a miserable relationship, in a miserable, predictable life that was millimetres away from attempting a Dementor's kiss on me. Scary stuff.

Lorelai Gilmore sums it up best when she energetically squeals "COFFEE COFFEE COFFEE!" at the drab barista.

I forget to cut the tags off my clothing. My tee-shirts are often times transparent on the days I decide to wear a really eccentric bra and I swear, I always TRY to be on time. Truthfully though, on a good day 20 minutes late is 5 early for me.

When did iPhones become so losable? I'm sort of sorry, but I'm sort of not - I just don't care enough about taking pictures or the Gram to have it glued to my palm.

In amidst all my recent existentialism, I have accepted that the universe is going to do what it's got planned, and as shitty as that is sometimes you have to ride the wave. Good things are always coming.

[topicprinter]

I'm starting to really hate my business. It wasn't always this way.I entered the teen-young adult streetwear hat niche 2 years ago, specializing in designing a certain type of hat. Neff, Surpreme, and other skate/hiphop culture streetwear brands are my main competitors. After making loads of money illegally, I wanted diversify to something legal, sorta like the mob. I was 16 at the time. I got the idea after spotting a kid wearing a really awesome hat in my driver's ed class. It was sorta obnoxious, sorta feminine, sorta loud, but sorta chill all at the same time. I just liked it. I ended up buying it from him for $20. I fell in love with it myself, it used to be that kid's signature hat that he wore everyday, but then it became my signature hat. I started looking online where I could buy another and even went as far as to ask the brand if they still sold it if I could get another. "Nope, sorry we discontinued that item." I looked around for other similar types of hats online and they honestly all looked terrible to me (at the time, now I sorta like them). Eager to enter any legal business with my stockpiles of cash, I decided to make and sell my own awesome hats just like the discontinued one I loved so much. They'd be aesthetically far superior to the "terrible" ones my competitors were making. Worst that could happen is that I fail and walk away with tons of entrepreneurial skills.Fast forward two years, I've learned about sourcing from China, hiring and working with freelancers, web design trends, DSLR photography, Photoshop, Adobe Illustrator, basic accounting, social media marketing, interpersonal skills, cold calling, cold emailing, cold knocking, and sales. I've sold 4 hats online on a haphazard ecommerce strategy and am in 2 stores as I've been cold calling as of late, trying to get into enough stores to approach chains. I'm at what seems to be a crisis point. It feels like the "make a business around you passion" bubble burst a year ago. I'm not really in love with my hats anymore, I hardly wear them, and could hardly imagine designing any more of them even if they became an overnight firebrand success. I feel like a caterpillar that has gone through a metamorphosis; who I was in 2015, in love with the idea of making my own line of awesome hats that would outcompete the bigger brands and with ton of blood money from illegal activities to spare, is not who I am in 2017. My stockpiles of blood money have run dry from spending $1050 on my first two designs (200 hats) my first year and then after realizing just two designs was too little to be taken seriously, $2500 on four more designs (1500 hats) to total six hat designs. Also, the website and design freelancers cost a lot along with rent, food, and other basic necessities. I'd say in terms of just business expenses, I'm $5k deep in the hole.I've convinced myself to move forward for two years by saying, "Just wait until you have the hats made", "just wait until you learn DSLR photography", "just wait until you learn photoshop to manipulate product photos to post on social media for sales", "just wait until you have 6 hats instead of 2", "just wait until you learn accounting", "just wait until you learn cold calling", "just wait until you move halfway across the country to sell to stores in person", "just wait until you get your first store sale". Now it's "just wait until you're in 7 stores, then you can start approaching 10-20 store chains." But the closer I get to the end of the tunnel, I just don't see much of a route to take or a ending that I feel comfortable with. The ending that was fuzzy and imprecise in 2015 of "yeah, I'll just become a famous and great selling hat brand that sells purely off aesthetics!" is now much clearer. You see, from the start, I decided that cool designs trumped brand image. I thought the idea of wearing clothing to "represent something" was the biggest load of BS ever and that awesome aesthetics should trump a dumb logo on a nondescript piece of clothing. I still strongly believe this and would still never buy a piece of clothing because with a logo that symbolizes "forever fun", "Supreme", some home/regional affinity, and the litany of inspirational or edgy messages you will find as logos plastered on clothing (just look at /r/streetwearstartup). Aesthetics trump all in my mind.But here's the catch-- I don't even like my hat aesthetics now. Hell, I don't even like my hat type all all, forget the design printed on it. So I've essentially checkmated myself because I can't even evolve my brand because I got into this to not have a fucking brand at all! Aesthetics, aesthetics, aesthetics, right? Well that really helped out when my tastes naturally evolved away from a seemingly unsaturated and uncapitalized hat niche towards liking hats of a totally different breed and saturated in the market. And I have no desire to make my clothing brand into a lifestyle brand that "means something" like Neff, Supreme, Volcom, and the other lifestyle streetwear brands out there. At this point, I'm also super detached from my main demographic I'm trying to sell to-- skaters, teenage punks, and potheads. Closest thing I ever was to those when I started the hat company at 16 was a teenage punk. Today, I'm so much more interested in making money (legally and safely), achieving financial freedom to travel the world and do whatever I want. I feel like an adult now and not a teenage punk who'd want to wear the hats I design. It feels like I hedged $5k and 2 years on a short-lived phase of my life.Here's the weird part: I only started having serious doubts about my hat business after I got my first store sales. I had one period of serious doubt after my first store sale about a few weeks ago which caused me to start a second backup venture with shopify dropshipping. After my second store sale I'm having this second period of doubt right now. It doesn't help that for each yes I inevitably get many no's which erodes my already low confidence in my products. The closer I get to the end of the tunnel, the more clearly I see the end game and the less I like. At heart, I'm an opportunist and an entrepreneur first, not a fashion designer. I'm not Shaun Neff of Neff or James Jebbia of Supreme, engrossed in the cultural intricacies surrounding their brand (skateboarding, streetwear, punk/hiphop culture). I'm a businessman, focused on money first and anything else second. I feel like I'm in an industry of cultural snobs, none of which resonates with me so I can't resonate with them. If I go forward, I feel like my attempts will be like Hillary Clinton desperately trying to appeal to young voters-- forced, ingenuine, and ultimately failing. Making money and growing a business gives me so much more of a thrill and feeling of being alive than designing hats and connecting to some "lifestyle." I can trudge forward with cold calls and getting IG influencers but all the sales material I've ever read said to be 100% convinced/in love with what you're selling. I'm at 3/10 convinced. Maybe if I become rich again and I have a lot of money, I'll be back in the same abundant mentality I was in 2015 and somehow like my hats again. A long shot.The other option is that I just throw it all away, accept defeat that this is not the business I'm meant to succeed at, store/sell my hats for $2 a piece, and throw away $5k and 2 years of work, ALBEIT keeping the skills I've obtained. I can go into doing internet marketing or social media management for clients (I already have one that pays me $300/mo, long story). But what if I just focus 100% on cold calling more, get into 7 stores, and then get into regional chains? I've read the book The Dip and it talks about when to give up. What if I'm just throwing this all away at the last moment before victory? What if I just pump myself up to 10/10 enthusiasm while selling, get into more stores, get into chains, and make an assload of money? My first priority right now is making money, and my hat business could potentially make me a lot of money if I somehow fake it til I make it. Somehow I'd have to build a brand over clothing I'm not fully in love with but can make me a lot of money because other people like it. God it's such a messed up situation. I wish I had never gotten involved in this and somehow did internet marketing instead two years ago, but here I am now and I must make a move with the position I have.I'm not necessarily giving up on my hat company yet. But what do you guys think? Rarely do I feel lost but right now I am. What would you do in my situation?EDIT (from the comments): As to demand, there's demand for the product, similar products (like the original I bought) have been designed for years. I just feel like I can't design them or do the niche anymore because I'm personally no longer interested in the product as my tastes have evolved. For example, I used to eat a ton of chili all the time last year, but now I don't eat any chili and just eat a ton of pasta with alfredo sauce because that's what I like. Doing my niche feels like becoming a world class chili chef because I can be the best, losing interest in chili and not really eating it except for taste-testing/quality purposes, and then eating alfredo sauce pasta on the downlow. People still want to eat chili whether I'm the world class chef making it or some other lesser chef is making it. The ultimate question is do I be the world class chili chef if I can't even enjoy my own chili and is it even possible for my chili quality not to suffer as a result?