#I’m all for distancing art from artist but I just can’t do it with her

[sickly-victorian-boy]

I think it’s so fucking funny that despite being a noted enthusiast of both toxic gay media and vampire media, I passionately abhor IWTV. I hate Anne Rice more than words can possibly express, with a fervor so passionate it’s nigh comical

[chlmtsdoll]

BOMBSHELL

౨ৎ @cinnamoncunt asked: can we pleaseee get an either art or patrick fic with victoria secret model reader?

Um, ABSOLUTELY ? Let’s do both ! Perfect timing bc I just settled on being a vs angel for halloween since I don’t have 2 bfs to do challengers this year. I’m sick of seeing the girls on my fyp who get to do it so this will justify my envy. 🤍

౨ৎ summary: it’s 2006 and you’re the opener for this years Victoria’s Secret fashion show. But unlike your other fellow angels, you have not one, but two supportive boyfriends just waiting to get their hands on you after the show.

౨ৎ warnings: 18+, smut !, threesome, p in v (unprotected) sex, oral (f) receiving, early 20’s Art and Pat, model reader, womanizer Patrick, shy Art, reader has dom-ish moments, flirty foreplay, pet names, dirty talk, Victoria’s Secret (the brand) mentions, a song inspo: Long Way 2 Go by Cassie

You might’ve been the only angel backstage with two boyfriends on her radar.

No, you totally were.

And that was fine by you when having the two boys under your wings was your own little secret.

Art and Patrick wouldn’t have missed it for the world. With not only their supermodel girlfriend being the opener for the Victoria’s Secret Fashion show, but fulfilling a great erotic teenage dream — something they both watched together during former years. In their dorm room at the Mark Rebellato Academy, while the other thirteen year olds would be up playing video games, or signing up for extra tennis classes in their free time, those two were glued in front of the tv. Creating a world of their own fantasy’s filled with angel wings and lingering far too overwhelming for them to even handle. Long legs, the bounciest glowing curls and pink bra sets filling the void. Their fascination with gorgeous and exceptionally powerful women at such a young age was far more vibrant than average.

It was what they bonded over from the very beginning.

Doing whatever they could whenever they could to find girls as close to what you happened to be as possible.

So when you came into their life, effortlessly magnetic with your beauty, superb bone structure, glitter dusted skin and a modeling contract — Art and Patrick had been at your beck and call since.

This was your peak. You’d really been here. Your I made it moment sinking in as you sat in the makeup chair backstage. The chaos of other models and their teams all rushing to get ready for the huge fashion show starting in just an hour tops was comforting to you, as an artist smudged on your cherry blush and the stroke of mascara running through your lashes before you checked your reflection in the mirror. Perfection to the way your curls flowed down your back, to even the careless drape of your robe hanging off your shoulder.

In the distance coming from not too far, there had been tousling wings parting as crew of models jumped out of the way, along with yelps like “what the hell ?” and “you guys can’t be back here!” coming from the group of girls.

And of course, it had been your blonde and brunette trailing through the crowd of angels to find you.

You watched with giggles coming from your covered mouth as the most handsomely men approached you. “What are you two doing back here?! You’re gonna get me fired and I haven’t even walked yet- -”

Art had a sideways little smile on his face, and eyes set on your face done up in shimmery makeup. You could nearly feel the way Arts heart had to be beating out of his chest just by the flustered look on his expression. Red and a tad dewy in the heat of the other barely clothed with mostly just rhinestones and lace six foot models surrounding him — but his focus was automatically choked up by you. On the other hand, Patrick’s eyes had been lingering all over the place, standing next to Art with a smirk across his lips as he had already charmed a group of angels nearby. Waving to them a bit with his sly attitude being just what they needed to get the fun pumping out of them for the show. As the girls all giggled to themselves and tried their best to look away, the brunette couldn’t wait to go yapping to all his friends or whoever would listen about all the hot girls he’d seen tonight.

You were so used to his cockiness contrasting Arts sweetness all too well, it hadn’t even phased you in the slightest..

“We uh- - wanted to bring you a little gift.” The blonde one spoke up nervously after clearing his throat, from behind his back, he revealed to you a full bouquet of pink peonies.

“Your favorite for all that hard work in the gym. The prettiest for our pretty girl.” Patrick grinned as he passed the flowers to you and you had let out an excited little noise as you took them. Your smile facing the two men as they watched your every girlish movement that they adored, smelling the arrangement in front of you.

“I- - you guys are too cute. They’re lovely.”

“You look bad ass by the way.” Art finally let himself breathe before chuckling with a smirk. And you grinned at him, pink colored cheeks as you stand to get closer to the men. Lean and in your six inches, Patrick shoved his hands down in his pockets just so resist the urge to touch you. Just a hip or your wrist. Anything he could while you looked like that. In all the eloquence of a woman that you were. Body so fit to him it was almost painful he wasn’t going into a spiral right now.

“Please confirm this for me angel.. can the wings stay on tonight ?” The brunette licked his lips carved into a smile of his own mischievous thoughts, Art then shoved him in his bicep.

You couldn’t help but let out soft laughter as you looked down at the peonies with shyness although your eyes had been full of tease.

“I can’t take them silly, they’re gonna be up in a museum.” You bit your lip as you smiled at your boyfriends. Eyes sparkling under the florescent lights of the room and the pair had collectively sucked in their breaths from.

“Ah.. course, course.” Patrick nodded although he’d still been eyeing you up in your pink stripped robe. “I don’t think they’d be able to fit in the limo anyways, they’re so big..” the blonde one laughed with the two of you, your eyes moved between them before you looked away with a naughty but playful nature.

“Yeah, well, I gotta say I like my pleasures pretty big..” your tone was smooth, as smooth as the way your hand then trailed, pink tips touching delicately over Arts belt buckle to Patrick’s leather as you made sure to meet both of the boy’s widening eyes. You turn back to your makeup chair with a little smile.

“Holy shit.” and “Oh my god.” Was heard behind your shoulder.

“Now go before you get kicked out.” You giggled. Patrick had knock Arts shoulder so he’d come back to earth and start heading out with him. You waved their way with your fingers and could barely hide your embarrassingly big smile, watching them fawn over you even while exiting.

As the show began and the crowd was roaring, the anticipation backstage was an overwhelming high with the rest of your fellow angels. You were first. And that was a lot of weight on your back. (not just from your wings) the moment you stepped on the runway, and the lights set on you, cheers were heard from the far back of the audience as your gleaming smile took upon your face. In your vs set, glimmering down the runway. You felt the adrenaline move within your hips as you not walked, but glided down the runway in a sexiness that had a sense of grace and girlish fun. Excitement big and bubbling through you as you blew kisses to the crowds of not just other models, but fans, legends. Everyone admiring you.

The front row wasn’t absent of familiar faces either because when you found Art and Patrick eyeing each other with proud grins, all the memories and moments of their early teen hoods was like a flashback through their minds. Art and Patrick would shamefully try and hide the way their cocks would tent as they watched one after the other angel strut down the runway. In bliss it was all the wanted to see it right in front of them. Now, that same feeling was on a different level when they got to actually leave with one herself. the moment you flashed a smile at the two boys from the stage before swishing your lace lined hips back stage — they started cheering even more than the others around them. You closed heavenly. And you knew you looked damn good with seven foot pink angel wings behind you.

♡

When the after party rolled around, it was all of your model friends to pour it up in celebration of a phenomenal show. The other angels had begged you to stay, keep dancing on tables and flirting with the guys at the bar — but your desire had been pulled to have your own little after party. But with just your two boys in attendance.

You let them take over your hotel suit with as much whiskey and champagne as they wanted, more wine and more glasses being delivered to your room would rack up a massive bill at the end of the night that your agents would take care of. You couldn’t give a care in the world as you’d been frolicking around that room in your gifted pink set, diamond bra stuck to your chest made you look from another world of heavenliness. Your heels were still strapped on and the r&b from the radio filled the area as you stood on the bed to pose for the camera of your blinged out BlackBerry. You had Patrick snapping pictures, capturing you on your big night. Even if you’d already gotten tons from the show, that just wasn’t enough when you had the looks of a goddess.

“Hell yeah, baby, that’s it.” The brunette edged you on as he got you from all angels, knowing he’d send them to himself immediately after you’d gotten your pick. You giggled with a glass of champagne in one hand, and your other pushing up your locks for more volume. Art sipping on whatever he had while observing you from Patrick’s side. Putting on a show for the two boys without even realizing it.

“Make sure you get my good side,”

“Are they not the same ?” The brunette had made an confused expression from behind the phone. You stopped from posing to reach out and laugh “gimme” you grabbed it from him and all he could do was grin at the way you had no idea just how much of a true bombshell were. Art sat on the bed closest to you while you pressed different buttons to scroll through the dozens of photos with a bitten lip covered in gloss. The blondes eyes ran over your skin, the way you sat in that little set, and the way he relaxed against the comforter of the bed with a shy grin made you look up from your phone to meet his blue orbs.

“What ?” You tittered, throwing your phone to the other side of the bed.

“It’s just, you were so confident out there tonight, princess. You’re always so.. confident. You didn’t even look like a thought of nervousness had crossed your mind,” Art reached out to run the back of his index over your glowing skin and you hid your smile in your shoulder a bit.

“I was so nervous.”

“Really ?” He sat up.

“Yeah, opening in front of all those people ? Live tv ? Half naked and in six inch heels ? I was terrified.”

“You could of fooled me.” Patrick scoffed as he sat on your other side, “what Art said.. your confidence. It’s so sexy.”

“Yeah ?” Your voice was slightly silkier as you look from the brunette to the blonde who were only inches away from you now, breathing in your pure seduction they couldn’t hide the need to want to get that lacy thong off you immediately. Taste what you’d been teasing them with all night long.

“like.. what if my heel got stuck ? …what if I fell ?”

“No way, your- effortless.”

“But would you have rushed to save me ?” You leaned in close to the brunette, batted you lashes with a subtle pout. And it was then that rare occasion when Patrick had gotten choked up on his words occurred. You gave him your sweetest eyes, and smirked at the way his vision trailed down to your lips from there. Hands going to slip around your thigh.

“Who wouldn’t ?” You then heard the blondes voice come in slowly. He watched you turn away from Patrick’s embrace to now focus on him.

Arts eyes meet yours and that sugary smile you always carry returned to your face too soon. You followed what he laid down. Leaning in Arts path now, your lips landed against the blondes. Slow and with ease you kiss and the tension in who’d entrance you first was settled. Art slipped a hand in your waves, he moved his mouth against yours like it had been second nature to him and you sat on your knees to deepen it, tongues running against one another and a soft “mmm” came from the back of your throat as he surprised you with his newfound control over his movements.

Lost in the kisses as your lips smack against one another continuously, the lip stain of your liner now smudged across arts mouth, the blonde groaned. Patrick, felt his hard on grow viscous as he scanned the two of you. And Art, way beyond that point, could of came if it went on just a few more minutes.

You grab on to his curly locks as you pulled him away, softly panting with a smile. Arts lips were lingering nearby as you closed your eyes to peck them one last time before brushing your thumb against his bottom one with a giggle, your view flashes Patrick’s direction.

“Now, are you gonna make me cum or what ?” You sigh before letting your back hit the sheets behind you, leaving the two to fend for themselves at once. You watched Patrick’s digits run over your front side, hunger in his as while feeling up your skin. Art already leaned in to find his place between your legs — the other following when he got the memo. “mmm, you smell like paradise..” Art had his nose pressed against your lace covered cunt. He breathed deep for your sent to fill his senses, and Patrick kissing up your thigh. You observed with a bitten lip as you play with the strap of your bra.

“She is paradise..” was the brunette’s response, he nibbled a bit on the plushness of your thigh and you squeal excitedly. Both boys struggle to let the other get your panties out of the way, you were amused to watch them. You just lifted your legs so it would be easier. They settled on the side since your set had been hot anyways. One leg on the shoulder of the other, you felt a digit come in contact with your clit — already letting out a soft whimper. A tongue laid a stripe up your cunt, and it felt like sweet relief.

Art took his time with going from kissing to lapping at your core, setting his tongue flat then flicking up to your folds, Patrick focused on your clit. Sucking till his lips find their way to eating you in rhythm. Your eyebrows knit together as you let out a higher pitched noise and stuffed your hands into their hair, the overwhelming sensations washed over you. Moans echo clean from your throat. “oh- yeah… good boys.” you heard more groans vibrate from your core and that made you grin. All while now reaching for the pillows above your head as the boys make your legs shake and tremble. You gasp, muttering curses under your breath.

They were too good just oral wise. It had your nails clawing at the sheets in no time as they let all their craving for you out on your pussy, it pushed you into a climax fast.

“Mmm, yes- - fuck !” you whine as you start to cum on the tongues that were fucking into you, even their licking and sucking after your soaked cunt made you shutter. Your grip on the sheets letting up slowly as you came down with a soft sigh. Art rubbed the back of your thigh as he leaned up with the other, they both sat back with their chests heaving and very visible bulges showing from behind their jeans.

You cracked a honeyed smile. “Okay. Let me see those cocks.” You rise to your elbows after the order and the men take no hesitation to get their buttons undone. Your smile turning to a darker smirk soon enough in anticipation.

“She wants to play, huh ?” Art’s lips curled into a grin as he looked up at you whist shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs, Patrick already way ahead of him as he chuckled,

“Always a bad girl under all that sweetness,” the brunette joked as he playfully pulled on your foot and you yanked it away with a giggle. “You know I can’t help it.” You lean up to see the sight in front of you. Both men hard enough to keep you up till sunrise and your eyes light up right then. “Oh, look what we have here..” your tone was playful as you got closer, keeping an eye on them but also the way both their pretty cocks stood in excitement for you.

Reaching out you went to Patrick first. Letting your soft but experienced hand stroke him a bit, just to feel his thickness grow in your embrace.

“Shit..” the word slips from him and you sucked in your bottom lip as you went to work, innocently watching his expression as you stroked him so calmly but with devotion.

“Y’know… I never got a kiss.” The man uttered and you scoffed kittenishly before hovering your lips above his, smooching just once before Patrick went in hot, reaching behind you to palm at your ass and inch you forward to him. You yelped mixed with a string of giggles, pushing him down on the bed so you can climb on top of him.

“Get this off,” your voice was playful and flirty as you pulled Patrick’s shirt over his chest and arms. “You too, Art.” the blonde was quick to follow.

Your dripping core was just inches above Patrick's erect member. You sat at top of his body, just smiling and admiring the view. But it was a known fact the man underneath you was quite impatient, especially when you’d been running your hands down his chest the way you were, acrylic nails doing their own thing by the texture of the hair lightly trialed there.

“You gonna show me how you ride like an angel, princess ? Or should I do it myself ?” You were blushing right after his words, nodding a bit, your hands lead down farther to find his dick, brushing it up against your clothed slit as you sucked in your breath. With just a couple adjustments, you were leaning up so you could fit Patrick’s thick and full cock inside of you. A whimper immediately breaking through you as you sunk down. And the brunette didn’t hold back for a second as he held your hips, thumb kneading against the mesh fabric of your panties and watching the way you move so gracefully above him.

Art was too drawn in by the scene to have even remembered to get himself prepared. He hadn’t touched his cock, but you knew what to do.

Reaching out, you gently took Arts chin in your palm as you brought him close. Still going up Patrick’s cock as you kissed the blonde nice and slow. You all were beginning to be a mess of moans. “Touch yourself while we fuck, okay ?” You whispered against Arts ear. It caused him the most delightful chills. He didn’t think twice as his own hand went to his cock. And you started bouncing on Patrick, whimpering and moaning out like their hadn’t been people in the next door rooms — your hair springing off your skin with you.

“There you go, doll… take my dick. You’re so fucking hot.” Patrick grunted as he held your waist so you could fuck yourself against him, leaving no space between as you rocked yourself on his lap. Your mouth went agape when he readjusted to pound up into your tight hole,

“Yeah- - was I the hottest angel out there tonight ?”

“Fuck yeah..” the brunette grabbed you with roughness so you’d been flush with his chest, you smiled as he made your pussy clench hard frantically and your moans turned into stuttering whines. Taking him like this, you knew you’d cum. So you then hit on his chest to let you up, that way you could save your next high just a little longer.

“Oh- - shit… shit,” you climbed off of the man and sniveled out as you flipped your hair out of your face.

“Oh my god.. baby, I was so close.”

“Not yet. Art, come fuck me.” Your directness had turned the blonde on so much he could feel his cock twitch at your words. He met you, and with one look at your gorgeous set gaze on his and a smirk on your lips it set his thoughts wild. His tongue darted out to wet his own lip as you smiled up at him, you finally got rid of your bra now, and slipped off your panties before placing a hand on his neck tenderly as the other slid up his chest. Arts eyes locked with yours, he just watched you with a coy little sideways smile. And when you turned around, your ass was at his crotch, you were bending over near the bedspread and he sucked in his breath. “Oh, shit..” the blonde muttered. And it made you giggle girlishly.

You were pushing your soaked pussy on Arts member, “my god, you’re so wet.” He announced just ready to pump you full himself, but he knew he wouldn’t want anything to ruin the sweetness of the moment. So he let his tip meet your core, you observed with wide eyes, his dick perfectly pink and dripping of pre cum. You were practically salivating at the sight. “Fuck her good, Art.” Patrick chimed in and the blonde pushed into you with a deep groan leaving his throat, you gripped at the sheets as your face scrunched up and your jaw went hanging. Art slowly moved his hips against you, mouth agape at the sight of your ass against him heavily. Arts hand kneaded against your hip.

You spread your legs a little farther apart to take him. All of him. Moaning like you’d been split in half, Art started to thrust nice and easy. It made you reach back to grab his muscly arm for support and he grunted from the sight of your teasing eyes watching him, you always just had to see Arts face whenever he fucked you, because he was so pretty. Especially like this — chest glistening and damp curls as he made escalating noises exit you. You regularly told him he would be successful if he ever gave modeling a shot. Although he never believed you, thinking you were just being kind. But you really meant it. Art was delicious on the eyes. And not that he took any away from Patrick (him being too pretentious even for the modeling industry anyways) but they each had their own beauty to serve in different ways. Arts gorgeousness came straight from good genes. And just like his face, so did his cock. Wonderful and thicker than most guys his age, especially when he put it to good use like you and Patrick occasionally showed him.

You smile beneath your bitten lip and mewls at your other delectable boyfriend, Arts sly grin was in response and when he pounded into you faster, you felt the bed shake. You couldn’t hold back as you began to scream his name. It was always in the front of your mind to make Art feel good when you knew he struggled with his shyness at times unlike the brunette.

“Yes ! Yes, oh fuck- - make me cum, Art !”

“Yeah ? ..You like that ?” The blonde huffed as he snapped his hips into you,

“Uh hu… harder- - fuck it, just like that.”

Art let his hands palms at your ass, then slide up your torso to cup your breasts. Gripping them in his hands as you slid yourself up and down his member. “Your tits are fucking perfect, oh my god.” You felt slick running down your inner thigh, sheets tight in your palms as your eyes began to roll.

Patrick who watched right beside Art, was jerking himself to the sounds of your syrupy moans. You looked too angelic on Arts cock, he couldn’t help it as his free hand smacked down on your ass while you fucked yourself on Art. It made you both groan. And you loved it, your flirty smile said it all.

Art felt full enough to cum in you right then, the sight of your cunt spread against him was starting to make his head spin. “I’m gonna fill you up pretty girl, you ready ?” It was quick thrusts and a mixture of your half screams and half moans of “fuck, Art!” Filling the noise of the room before you were gushing around his dick. And he was spilling inside of you like that, an uncontrollable amount of his seed was painting your walls and the blonde made sure to get every last drip of it in your sweet cunt. The other man l beside him pumped his cock quick to releasing on your back side all with a string of groans and curses.

You didn’t collapse on your stomach just yet, not only the feeling of the two boys marking their territory on you being too excellent of a feeling to end just yet, but because Art crouched to lick at your puffy cunt. He tasted the mixture of you and him (with Patrick flowing into the mix) as you let out soft whimpers against the pillows. The brunette gripped your ass cheeks to help and you wiggled from the pleasure with a sigh of giggles. “naughty girl.” He smirked, the other licked up what was left of all of you like a pro. Your toes flexed and curled with the punch of his tongue.

“Fuck. That was amazing. You were amazing. ” Was all he could say when he collapsed on he comforter beside you with a deep breath and you turned on your back too. Slowly coming down from trembling. Art wrapped an arm over your body as he rested against your shoulder and you smile.

“That was the most fun I’ve ever had- - ever.” Your laughter was light and Patrick to your side got close to your body too, you let your hand gently caress his jaw.

“They weren’t gonna give you that at the after party we’re they ?” He grinned.

“No. Definitely not.” you shook your head with the sweat on your face only making your half ruined makeup look better somehow. Your love spell body shimmer still stuck to your skin and even got on Art and Patrick’s sculpted bodies pretty nicely as they gently rubbed you down. You smiled before tapping above your cheek bones, and both of your boys knew what to do. They left a two sweet kisses for you.

[thickness-protection-program]

Even without it being a country album and even if it wasn’t an album “in her genre”, the idea that an artist can only create within a genre is soooo stupid and limiting. I don’t go here but a band I like went from hardcore heavy metal screamo shit to like, high concept alt pop in 10 years and they specifically have said in interview that they distanced themselves from the metal scene because they felt it was too limiting to their ability as artists to be confined by a genre.

They’re incorporating elements now, but like. That’s what you DO with art. You try new things, get good at them or decide you don’t like them, and then you take the bits you like or find useful and incorporate them elsewhere. Idk where the idea that artists are “make more of this specific kind of art only” machines in any way.

People are being hella weird because it’s Beyoncé and broader society seems to hate black people and especially black women winning, but I’ve seen this same thing with pop punk/post-emo whiteboy bands trying a new sound and having an album flop because everyone quietly just “wished it was like their last one” until a few years later when everyone realized it was good actually and they were being close minded.

Do I find her most popular song right now overplayed on the radio? Yes. I listen to a LOT of radio. But it’s a good fucking song and she can make country if she damn well wants to. I swear we all JUST did this with Lil Nas X. If I’m tired I can’t imagine how tired the people who actively follow this are cause at this point it’s goofy as hell. People getting mad over nothing with the memory of a goldfish so they can get mad over the same nothing again in three months

Ooo you fuckin said it. It's the literal fact that music as a whole can't evolve if we don't allow individual artists to evolve and especially black artists. There's a wide variety of reasons why this unjust hate is here but I feel like two of the main reasons are 1) consumers have become a little too comfortable expecting from artists as if they owe us something as opposed to just enjoying the harvest and 2) in this current rage based culture we let our dislike of someone get in the way of viewing the facts as facts. The fact of the matter is Beyonce and any artist in the world, yes including the ones you hate, can do whatever tf they want bc they don't owe us shit

[brabblesblog]

A little hope.

Set between chapters 10 and 11 of Whither has thy beloved gone? Astarion muses on the first time Ban smiled at him again since his ascension whilst watching her get her portrait painted.

Read on AO3. For @snowfolly, @marimosalad, and @iizuumi, incredible, kind artists who have been so kind to gift their art to me. I love you all!

Ban, by @iizuumi

Ban, by @snowfolly

Astarion snaps his fingers and a servant appears. He quickly rattles off instructions. A cup of her favorite tea, laced with some animal blood, warmed just the way she wanted it. Her favorite tailor is summoned.

He follows her to their old room, and deep inside he is giddy, an emotion he hasn’t felt in a long time.

She sits on her old desk, running her hands over the filigree. She has missed her comforts here. Her table where she worked. Their bed - the mattress a perfect softness and the sheets always immaculate until they methodically ruin it every night. She turns to Astarion, and seeing his grin, can’t help but smile back.

For a moment, all is well.

Whither is thy beloved gone?

Chapter 6

Astarion stands behind the artist they’ve commissioned, fingers idly scratching his chin as he watches the painting taking shape on the canvas. A good likeness, he thinks - it doesn’t exactly capture Ban, and he doubts any painting ever really can - but it is a decent attempt.

She smiles, and his own lips quirk up in response. She’s always looked better smiling, as rare a thing as it is nowadays, although they’ve been making some headway on that front.

I mean, she does smile, Astarion muses. Just not at -

The thought dies when he meets her eyes and sees hers locked onto his; hers are crinkled with amusement, and he feels his chest swell.

“Missed a button,” Ban says, nodding at him.

It takes a moment to register her words. His mind is back to when she had first smiled at him again - a genuine, honest-to-goodness smile, and not one of those manufactured ones she’s aimed at him since his ascension.

How she had sat at her desk, running her hands all over it. How she had looked around their room as if seeing it for the first time, and how she had turned to him and returned his grin with one of her own.

He’ll always remember that, he thinks. He’ll always have that to remind him that there is hope.

“Astarion.”

Her voice snaps him out of it, and he shifts awkwardly, hands moving to clasp behind his back as he straightens up.

“Yes, my love?”

“Your button. I’m not going to dinner in the upper city with your shirt askew like that,” she mutters.

“Or, you know, I could just unbutton everything and not go out at all,” Astarion counters. The laugh that rings out from her lips makes his heart flutter.

Ban shakes her head at him. “Maybe. Depends how nice you’ll be the rest of the day.”

“Darling,” he drawls. “I’ll be positively angelic.”

The painter clears his throat, annoyed that his subject is moving around too much. Astarion immediately shifts his attention towards him, eyes instantly glaring. Try doing that again.

Just as quickly he turns back to Ban, the hardness melting away as if it was never there at all. She’s back to holding the pose for the painter, and Astarion satisfies himself with observing the work.

There is still a long way to go, a distance he isn’t even sure he can traverse, but at least there is that.

A little hope.

Taglist: @elora-the-slutty-songstress @tragedybunny @spacebarbarianweird @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @ battisonsgf @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptrr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog @asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld @gracemisconduct @decadentcoffeewizard @rootin-tootin-n-kind@pursuitseternal@youngtacobanana @krispeenuggiez @pursuitseternal@girlygmer-blog @cheezits4lyfe @vinegarjello @the0ldmann

[mrs-snape5984]

“How can you miss someone, you've never met? 'Cause I need you now, but I don't know you yet…”

“But can you find me soon because I'm in my head? Yeah, I need you now, but I don't know you yet…” (“IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23)

Being devoted to a fictional character for about 21 years can be challenging from time to time. Sure, it’s called “having a comfort character” for reasons, and I can’t deny, that my long lasting love for Severus Snape has given me the much needed comfort and consolation all over those years. He was by my side, whenever I felt the urge to escape from my traumatic reality…and fuck…there was way too much in my life, which made me flee to Severus. Don’t worry, I won’t mention all these experiences in this text (I’ve already done this in one of my other pathetically whiny posts).

But there’s another issue, that comes with the adoration for a fictional character…something torturous, heart-wrenching and devastatingly painful: It’s the piteous longing for someone, who will never be mine in real life….a goddamn feeling, which is eating me alive! Of course, I’m still coping with my current situation of being doomed to a life in darkness (fuck you, ME/CFS!!!!!) by writing my own ridiculously self-inserting fan fictions about Sevy and Jules…only for myself…solely to soothe my troubled heart. Furthermore, the many artists of Snapedom might know me as someone, who’s requesting immensely personal artworks for my blog…always using them to emphasise my journal entries here.

But there are times, when this isn’t enough anymore! I’m surrounded by Severus in my dark room… one could say, that I’m living in my private Snape-and-Wizarding-World-in-general-Museum. 😅 Everything here feels like my very own comfort blanket, which I’m pulling tighter around my trembling body to create a sensation of warmth and safety. And yet… yeah… and yet, I’m fucking lonely! Lying in darkness and solitude all day makes this cruel longing for Severus become agonising and almost unbearable. I’m bawling my eyes out for someone, who will never be able to hear my heart crying out for him. And to be honest: In my age, this is a sentiment, which I’m absolutely ashamed of!

For the past 21 years, I’ve known this miserable emotion only in this exact context. But now, something happened, which made the confines of my heart and the walls, I’ve built around myself, shatter into pieces…leaving me vulnerable and emotionally churned up like never before. Becoming close and trusting friends with someone, who’s living so far away from me - separated by the ocean - turns out to be blessing and curse at once.

Suddenly, I feel confronted by the same emotions, which my pining for Severus provokes in my heart…a yearning for a deeper connection - regardless of the relationship’s nature between us friends. And just like in the song, which I’ve mentioned above this text, I’m asking myself: “How can you miss someone, you’ve never met?”

Fortunately, I’m able to reach out to my friend in these occasions. I don’t have to weep over my fan fictions or my art collection…no, I can just grab my phone and annoy the fuck out of my beloved confidant. And I think, this is beautiful! 🥹

For this heartwarming piece of art, I’ve commissioned my friend @alinearthp once again. I asked her to draw Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules as young adults…going out to grab some butter beer in “The Three Broomsticks”. Whenever my longing for Severus becomes too strong, I’m trying to imagine him doing something casual like that with me…and now I’m doing the same with my long-distance-friend. For this reason, I’d like to dedicate this loving post to him. @preciousthelmadonna, you’re in my heart and in my thoughts every single day, since I got to meet you on tumblr. Despite those 6095 kilometres, which separate us from each other, it seems as if you’re right beside me, whenever we’re talking about everything and nothing at once. I’m beyond grateful for our connection, my love. Thank you for being you.

Oh, and @alinearthp, you made me smile with this cute drawing of Sevy and Jules! Thank you for your understanding of my ideas and for each of your lovely and kind messages! Feel hugged, my dear!

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[fitrahgolden]

To React: Chapter One

This was actually my first attempt at a multi chapter story. I posted it in December of ‘22 and deleted that chapter last summer. I'm giving it another go. Huge shout out to @lookingfts for helping me flesh out this story and for continuing to give me feedback on my ideas.

To React

—

Kathani Kaveri Sharma, 26

Member of Smythe-Smith Dramatic Society - props and set design

Manager of Palette Arts and Crafts Supply

Watercolour artist by commission

Anthony Bridgerton, 29

Solicitor at Bridgerton, Danbury, and Frederick Solicitors law firm

Benedict Bridgerton, 27

Member of Smythe-Smith Dramatic Society - writing, directing, acting

Published writer - poems, plays

Oil and watercolour artist by commission

Siena Rosso, 25

Member of Smythe-Smith Dramatic Society - acting and singing

Social media influencer

—

CHAPTER ONE

“I can’t keep doing this. I deserve more. So do you, though I know you won’t let yourself believe that. You need to figure out what you want. We both know it isn’t whatever the fuck this is. Anthony, you need to let me go.”

They were standing in the tiny foyer of Siena’s flat. She hadn’t even let him get all the way inside before she told him they needed to talk. They had gone back and forth for about fifteen minutes before Anthony realised he didn’t know what he was fighting for. Everything she’d been saying was true.

Maybe it was just because he was the one that was usually doing the breaking up. And that’s what this was. A real breakup. Not some lover’s quarrel that would inevitably end with them making up, fucking in some ridiculous place like his mum's garden during a dinner party or her dressing room at Smythe-Smith Dramatic Society.

“Right.” He looked down, around, anywhere but at her, feeling like a twat, holding the roses he’d brought to her place, the bouquet she ignored as she wasted no time getting into what had obviously been weighing on her for some time. “Um, so, I’ll go.”

Her eyes were wet with unshed tears. His eyes weren’t, which probably said something. Siena put a hand up to his cheek, which was thick with stubble that one could almost call a proper beard.

“I really wish you all the best, Anthony.” She sounded… tired. So damn tired.

“Thanks, um…” He took half a step back away from her touch, telling himself he didn’t need any comfort. “You, as well.” He turned to leave, but stopped. “Would it–You’ll probably still see me at shows. You know, for Ben.”

Siena nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ll keep my distance, though. At wrap parties and things like that.”

“I’m not worried about it, Anthony.”

“Right.” He stepped out over the threshold. “OK. Bye. Um–Yeah, bye.”

“Bye.”

Anthony had made it halfway down the hallway before realising he was still holding the damned roses. He tossed them in the bin at the top of the stairs without a backwards glance on his way out to the street.

—

The next morning, Siena sat up in bed and turned to her bedside table, where she kept her "I Woke Up Like This" kit: A brush, floss, bottle of water, mascara, and lip stain. Once she was armed for the internet, she posted a quick video to her feed.

"Good morning, guys! I'm gonna level with you. I'm going through some personal stuff right now but I just wanted to hop on here to let anyone who needs to hear this know: You are worth it. No matter how hard it may seem, stand up for yourself. You are your biggest advocate. Love you guys! I'm off to SSDS for rehearsals. Make sure to buy tickets for our upcoming show! It's a revue of Shakespearean comedies! It's gonna be so much fun. Link in my bio! Check in with you later today. Mwuah!"

—

"OK, guys, I think we can call it a day! Thanks for everyone's hard work! Now, let's go drink!"

Benedict's dismissal was met with cheers and applause by the cast and crew, scattered onstage, in the audience, and backstage at the Smythe-Smith Dramatic Society. As everyone gathered their things, most preparing to walk down the street to the pub, Benedict caught up with Siena, who was moving slowly, putting her bag strap over her shoulder.

"Hey."

"Oh, hey, Ben."

"You were great today, as usual, but I just wanted to check in because you seem a bit down. I don't know, low energy? Anything I can help with? Are you unhappy with the show or–"

Siena scoffed and shook her head. "You haven't spoken with your brother?"

Anthony. Of course. Benedict rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, no. What did he do this time?"

Siena paused thoughtfully. "Nothing, really. It was just time to finally… I don't know, free ourselves, you know?"

Benedict didn't know. He narrowed his eyes. "So… You guys broke up."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, an indication that this didn't seem like news. They fell out all the time. But Benedict knew better than to point that out.

Siena sighed. "Yes, we broke up. But this time is different.”

Benedict smiled a little at the cliche.

“No, Ben, really. I sort of had an epiphany a few weeks ago. How can I claim to be all about self love and respect while being in a relationship with a guy who has made self-loathing his entire personality? If he doesn't think he deserves anything good, what does our relationship say about how he feels about me?"

Benedict's face sobered. He opened his mouth to respond but nothing seemed right.

"Sorry, I know he's your brother–" Siena waved a hand and made to turn away but Benedict stopped her.

"No, no, it's fine. I do understand what you're saying. I just… I’m sorry he made you feel that way."

Siena shrugged, “I appreciate it.” A small smile formed on her face. “It’s weird. When I woke up this morning, in some ways, I already felt better than I have in a year and a half. I hope it's the same for him. I think it will be. I'll always care about him, you know?”

Benedict nodded slowly. “Come here, babe.” He pulled Siena into a bear hug that made her chuckle. She backed up and put her hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

“But, really, we don’t have to talk about your brother. We're meant to be drinking, right?”

Benedict relaxed and took Siena’s bag off her shoulders to carry for her.

“Right. And yours are on me tonight.”

—

Three weeks later, on a Sunday evening, the members of SSDS were celebrating a successful run of “The Comedy of Errors, and Then Some” backstage at the theatre. As always, Benedict made sure the wrap party was catered well and had an open bar. Such was one of the benefits of having a trust fund baby as the most active member of your drama club.

Once Siena had changed, she cautiously entered the gathering, scanning the room for who else may be here in addition to the players and crew.

“He’s not here,” came a voice from behind her.

“Jesus, Ben! Do you need to start wearing a bell?”

“Sorry, honestly didn’t mean to startle you. You just looked… worried?” Benedict raised his eyebrows

Siena nodded reluctantly. “Thanks.. I… Yeah, I was wondering if he was here,” she admitted. How has he been? I haven’t really seen much from him online or anything.”

“To quote the man himself,” Benedict dramatically pulled out his phone, took a deep breath, and uttered, “‘I’m fine.’” 

“Ugh, fuck off.” Siena gently pushed his shoulder as they shared a laugh. “He’s always fucking fine,” she lamented, rolling her eyes.

Benedict shrugged. “Yep. Haven’t seen him much. He came to a show, of course. Left a donation. Same as ever. Mum was complaining that he hasn’t been at the house, citing work every time any of us even hints at a family get-together.”

“Same old shit.” Siena ruefully shook her head.

“Same old shit, indeed. Anyway, we don’t have to talk about him, remember? Can I get you a drink? Some food? You have to eat something. This place I ordered from is fucking excellent.”

Benedict offered Siena his arm, and after she took it, he led her to the buffet table.

“Every place you pick is always excellent, Ben.”

—

Kathani sat on one of the folding chairs at the edge of the party, thinking it was probably time to say her goodbyes and head out. She was opening the art supply shop she managed in the morning, and had already had too much to drink, if she was being honest. She needed to pack for Bridgwater so she could catch the train right after work. Mary and Edwina always insisted she didn’t have to visit every week, yet every time she made the trip, there was a laundry list of things with which they needed help. And lately there was the ongoing conversation of where Edwina wanted to go to university. Ultimately, Kathani wanted her sister to pick anywhere she wanted. But if Edwina stayed in Somerset, she could live at home with Mum, which would be great not only for Mary but also for their family finances. Edwina had spoken excitedly about the aspect of coming to London. Kathani had been careful not to discourage her–not yet, at least. However she always found herself in a spiral about everything that would need to change to make that happen–without contacting Mary’s parents. Mary can’t stay three hours away from her daughters by herself. How would they pay for Edwina’s tuition? If Edwina lived with her, that would help, but her flat is tiny. Could she afford a bigger place? She could leave SSDS and have time for a proper second job. Maybe put more effort into marketing her paintings?

“Hey, mind if I sit here?”

Kathani’s thoughts were interrupted by Siena Rosso, gesturing towards the empty chair next to her.

“Not at all. Brilliant job tonight. The whole run, actually, as always.”

Siena settled into the chair and smiled as she took a sip of her drink. “Thanks. It’s Kate, right? Beautiful work on the sets. Likewise, no surprise there.”

“It’s Kathani, actually, and thank you.”

“Oh. Sorry, I could have sworn–”

Kathani waved her off. “It’s fine, I went by Kate for a while. Decided to go back to my given name. I realised I actually couldn't be arsed to care too much about making white people more comfortable with me.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

“On behalf of all white people?” Kathani teased.

Siena held up her hands. “Just me, I’m afraid.”

“Well, apology accepted.” The two women shook hands in mock seriousness, laughing. “I’ll just have to collect my reparations one at a time, then.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before Kathani spoke again.

“Isn’t Benedict’s brother usually following you around at these things?” Kathani’s voice was a little tight as she asked the question, falling short of her goal to sound only mildly interested.

“Ah.” Siena shook her head, resigned. “Nope. Not anymore.”

Kathani's eyebrows shot up, something like longing awakening within her and making her heart stutter. She schooled her features before tentatively offering, “Sorry?”

“No, it’s good. I mean, thanks, but… I ended it. It was the right thing to do. Um–” Siena suddenly looked away, sheepish.

Kathani narrowed her mirthful eyes. “But…?”

“What?” she responded innocently.

Kathani held her hands up. “Hey, you don’t have to tell me, I can just tell there was more you were going to say. And I’m a neutral-ish party.”

“Ish?”

“Well, Anthony isn’t here to defend himself, is he? So, I’ll gladly ‘yes and’ any shit you want to say about him.” Hearing how terrible a partner Anthony is sounded like exactly what Kathani needed.

Siena laughed, “Ha, no. Actually, it’s nothing to do with him. Not directly, anyway.”

Oh, well. “No?”

“Yeah, I’m just… I don’t know…” Siena struggled to articulate her thoughts, gesturing vaguely at her own body.

Kathani smiled as realisation hit her. “Lonely? Missing a warm body in your bed? Getting tired of your vibrator?”

“Jeez, yeah. Yes, OK?” Siena looked around as if anyone might be paying attention to them. No one was, of course.

“Hey, no judgement coming from this direction,” Kathani said. “Actually… I think I may be able to help with that.”

Siena raised an eyebrow, amused, but perhaps also intrigued. “You think so, eh?”

Kathani shrugged, biting her lip. “I, um… I was actually about to head out.” She looked over at the exit before meeting Siena’s gaze, holding it.

“OK,” Siena said softly before swallowing.

Slowly, giving Siena time to stop her, Kathani raised her hand and pushed a lock of Siena’s hair behind her ear and smiled at her, her eyes dropping to Siena’s mouth.

“Smooth,” Siena whispered, her eyes similarly trained on Kathani's lips.

“Thank you,” Kathani replied under her breath before leaning in and kissing her.

Siena was still for a few moments, but right before Kathani took the hint and pulled away, she felt Siena’s lips move against hers. Kathani cupped the back of Siena’s head and deepened the kiss once Siena opened her mouth to allow Kathani’s tongue to mingle with hers. Once they pulled back for breath, Kathani stood and held out her hand. After Siena took it and stood as well, she said, “Let me get this out of the way now. I actually do have work in the morning, and I’m going to visit my family afterwards.”

“Two tried and true excuses? Impressive.” Siena's eyes twinkled.

“I know. But if tonight goes well, maybe we can catch up next week?” She ran a thumb over Siena's knuckles

They shared a grin before Siena nodded. “Yeah, take me home and let’s see how we fare.”

—

The following week, SSDS met up to discuss their next show. Benedict noted that Kathani and Siena were sitting together and tried to remember if he’d ever seen them looking so friendly. Of course, all the members knew each other to some degree. But it was a pretty big group, and Kathani tended to stick with her fellow props and set design crew. But the twosome were certainly friendly tonight, smiling and whispering throughout the meeting and then finally, once everyone was dismissed, leaving together, hand-in-hand.

—

Anthony was leaving a date’s townhouse when he received a video call from Benedict.

“What?” he huffed as he jogged down the front steps.

Benedict looked to be trying to make out Anthony's surroundings. “Well, well, well. It’s only 9 o’clock. Couldn’t even stay for tea?”

“Right. Hanging up.”

“Wait, wait! I have news,” Benedict announced in a singsong voice.

"Sure, you do. Go on, then."

"Seriously, though. I'm only telling you this because I work with them and if something comes up on Siena's Instagram or something, I know you're gonna feel betrayed or some shit."

"Siena can do whatever she wants," Anthony said, defensive.

"I know that. But does that mean you don't want to know if she's hooking up with someone I know?"

Anthony slowed his steps. After rolling his eyes and running a hand over his face, he relented.

"Fine. Who is it?"

"You remember Kathani Sharma, right? She does the sets."

Kathani Sharma. Kate. Of course Anthony remembered Kate. Last year, Benedict dragged him to SSDS bowling. Well, more like his brother casually mentioned he was going bowling, and Anthony grabbed his bowling bag and declared, "Fuck, yeah, I'll come show you theatre kids how it's done!"

A couple of hours later and he was as frustrated as he was mesmerised by the woman he ended up on the same lane with. Anthony would never say she was better than him. Never. But facts are facts, and she blew him out of the water on that particular night. And with such unabashed glee, as well. "That's not even my highest score!" she had crowed, a grin gracing her striking face. As far as Anthony was concerned, he was playing against Kate and Kate alone. And she seemed to be on the same wavelength. That night had been shaping up to be the most fun he'd had in a long time before it was suddenly cut short when Siena, who had been playing several lanes away, sauntered up to him and started whispering in his ear about how much she missed him. Before he knew it, he was in the back of a car with Siena, a thought circling in the back of his mind about not giving Kate a proper goodbye–and a quieter yet more persistent thought that he shouldn't have left at all.

"Ant?"

Benedict's smug smile greeted Anthony as he was pulled back to the present, a stranger jostling passed him where he'd stopped on the sidewalk.

"Yes, I remember her. Like I said, Siena can do whatever she wants. No need to keep me updated. I've gotta go."

"I'm sure you do. The night is young and all that."

—

Back at his penthouse, Anthony felt like the worst cliche, and a bit of a creep, if he was being honest. What bothered him most was that he didn’t know why he was behaving this way. In the history of his on and off relationship with Siena, he’d never been particularly interested in who Siena spent her time with when they were “off.” Sure, he got a little jealous when he happened to see a social media post featuring her and someone else looking cosy, but it passed quickly. He had his own company to keep him plenty occupied. And, anyway, he always took comfort in the assumption that they would eventually resume the exclusive fuckery that they called a relationship. But that door was finally firmly closed, and here he was, googling “Kathani Sharma London” and sorting through the results.

[bonesandthebees]

Hey, just wanted to check in on you. I know a lot of your fics center around cwilbur/ctommy. I hope you’re doing ok with the news. I’m so proud of the community not tolerating this.

I feel kind of guilty though. I listened heavily to love joy as I related to it and it’s been helping me get through rough times. But now I’m sitting here wondering “does that make me a bad person?”. I stopped listening to Lovejoy YCMGA and MSR but am I a bad person for relating to those songs?

I can’t listen to them anymore without feeling sick, knowing something that once brought me so much comfort was created by a man doing the same thing I’m trying to escape from.

I still want to listen to them sometimes though, but I refuse to support a man like that. I’m also a little nervous about fics. Me and my brother would read your fics together as a way to bond even through long distance living. cwilbur was one of my brother’s favorite characters and he loves your fics.

I haven’t talked with him about it yet, though I probably should. I feel like all in all I just need time to plant my feet and get it back together.

But in the meantime I am so endlessly proud for seeing how everyone has been encouraging and supporting Shelby. I know how scary it is to speak up about what has been done to you and I’m so proud of her. I’m also proud of how the community has refused to support him at all.

Shutting down accounts, turning the Wilbur subreddit into a Wilbur Wright subreddit, I’m proud that so many people have taken action while the rest of us are still reeling

Thank you for letting me vent, I hope you are taking time and space to care for yourself during this as well

thank you anon, I spent the last week talking extensively with people in my inbox about the whole wilbur situation and it really helped me process a lot of my emotions at the time so I'm doing alright now. while I'm not taking any of my old fics down, I'm still figuring out what I'm going to do with my ongoing fics that center around c!wilbur, so we'll see where I end up landing with that

I'm also so incredibly proud of the community for not tolerating this. like, you gotta admit, this was one of the most cohesive ways I've ever seen a fanbase dissolve. sure there are still some freaks sticking around, but the vast majority of us got up and left.

now, don't ever feel like you're a bad person for relating to the lyrics wilbur wrote. although many of the songs feel different now with this new information about him as a person, he wrote about mental struggles in a way that MANY people connected with. there's nothing wrong with having those kinds of struggles. what's wrong is when someone dealing with those kinds of things is hurting other people, is made aware they're hurting other people, and then refuses to do anything to try and change for the better. wilbur refused to try and be a better person. he chose to keep abusing his partner and hurting the people around him. that's what makes a bad person.

I do think separation of art vs artist is possible, but it gets trickier when financial support comes in. that's why I suggest if you want to keep listening to lovejoy, piracy is always an option. the mp3 youtube downloader is your best friend there. MSR is a bit trickier though given that we know MSR was entirely written about wilbur's perspective of his and shelby's relationship, and now we know the truth of what that relationship was actually like. his own narrative that disregards the abuse is what makes up the album itself. personally, I don't think I could ever listen to MSR again without feeling gross.

that makes me really happy to hear you and your brother bonded while reading my fics. like man that's so sweet, I really hope you two will be able to keep enjoying the same things. whether you're both able to separate character from cc and continue reading c!wilbur content, or finding another interest to share in the future. take your time though. there's no rush to talk to him. let your feelings settle.

and yes I'm also incredibly proud of shubble as I'm sure we all are. coming forward like this is a terrifying thing to do but I'm so grateful she did, because now we all are aware and aren't unintentionally platforming a dangerous person like that. I'm so proud of this community. we really all came together in the end.

take care of yourself <3

[bobby-r2d2-floyd]

Life Goes On (REUPLOADED)

Rhett Abbott x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: 18 year old reader spends her last night in Wyoming with 21 year old Rhett Abbott before leaving for art school

Warnings: None? Two idiots in love not telling each other

might cross post this to ao3, not entirely sure yet but not posted anywhere else.

read part 2 here!

-----------

Freshly graduated from high school, the summer before you left to go to university had flown by. Days were packed full of riding, roping, moving cattle with the Abbott family whenever they needed, spending time caring for your younger siblings when your mom worked day shifts. You and your best friend Rhett Abbott barely had hung out at all, spare moments here and there in the hay loft when Royal wasn’t needing you two to do a chore around their property. Before you knew it, it was your last night in town. 

You were perched atop of your roof, staring at the stars as you took slow drags from your cigarette, you missed the sound of your bedroom window being open and boots padding across the shingles. You don’t need to turn around to know who it was that was joining you, you already knew. 

Rhett dropped his flannel over your bare shoulders, the strings of your tank top doing nothing to keep the chill of the Wyoming night time air from sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Can’t believe this summer’s already passed by” he says, sliding up behind you and hooking his chin on your shoulder. You let out a small hum and take another drag, the only noise between the two of you being the burn of the paper. 

“I can’t either, and I have no idea when I’m gonna have time to come back and see you again.” you say before exhaling the smoke that was in your lungs. “I saw you every day this summer and I still feel like I never saw you.”

He takes the cigarette from your hand, taking his own slow drag before exhaling after a few beats, “you could always not go.”

“Rhett.. I have to go. I have to get out of this town, I can’t stay here.” you tell him for what felt like the millionth time. “This is going to be good. I can go out there and I can get an education and make a name for myself that isn’t the girl who cried wolf.” 

“You didn’t cry wolf, that guy.. He was no good.” Rhett says as he rubs your arm.

“Tell that to the rest of Amelia County.” you take the cigarette back and take the last hit of it before putting it in the old water filled coffee can.

He squeezes your midsection a little tighter and you lean back against him, “as much as I hate it here, I don’t want this night to end.” you say as you exhale the smoke from your lungs, watching it swirl amongst the stars before dissipating.

Tomorrow you would be headed east to Chicago, a 16 hour drive, mostly on I-80 before a stint on I-88. It was a drive that you had mapped out for weeks, even alternate routes should you need them. You weren’t expecting to get into the Art Institute straight out of high school but you were honored nonetheless to be accepted. It was something that Rhett didn’t understand, he knew you were artistic, you did murals all over the town, He just didn’t understand why you felt like you needed to go to school for it. 

“Are you going to keep working with your dad?” you ask, staring at the moon rising in the distance.

“Yeah, work with him, move the cattle, now that fair season is over I'm not gonna be on the bulls as much anymore unless I do well this next time.” he says as he admires the partial view of your face in the moonlight. He knew that there wasn’t a lot of money in the bull riding at the level he was competing,or in the ranching, so the odds of him ever making it out the city to see you would be out of the question unless he picked up another job or you were able to fund his visit. 

You inhale with a shaky breath and before you know it there’s a rogue tear running down your face and landing on his arm.

“Let’s get outta here. Go for a drive, pretend we have more than just a few hours.” he mumbles and you nod your head. He stands up before offering a hand to you to help you stand. When you stand, you’re a little too close than you were planning on being and you look up at him, your breath catching in your throat. He looks down at you, his dark aegean blue eyes boring into yours and for a second you wish that he would tilt your chin up and kiss you. When he doesn’t, though, choosing to step back instead you give him a small smile and a thanks as you make your way back into your room and down and out of the house, putting his flannel on properly as you make the way to the front door. Rhett kicks himself for not kissing you, but he still follows you out of the house and to his truck, putting his hat back on as he shuts the front door behind him. He opens your door for you like the gentleman he was raised to be and you smile softly as he shuts it once you're settled in the cab. 

Rhett drives for what feels like hours, heading out of his own personal hell. There’s a small road up the mountain about 45 minutes from your house where as a child you always felt like you could touch the stars. Neither of you say a word as he drives, neither of you wanting to break the comfortable silence with the impending heartache of tomorrow. 

He drums his fingers against his steering wheel, bringing you out of your thoughts, “haven’t even left yet and this place already feels so different.” 

“Sucks we had to grow up, that you’re leaving…” he leaves the leaving me out.

“This’ll be good, right? ‘M makin’ the right choice?” you question, finally looking over at him and he looks back at you.

“Darlin’ I want nothing more than to keep you home where I know that you’re safe, but I also know that if either of us were gonna be makin’ it out of this place it would be you. You’re gonna be great wherever you end up.” he tells you, hoping that you don't hear how his voice cracks at the end.

You give him a sad smile before opening your door to climb out. He follows suit and when he makes it around the hood of his truck you wrap an arm around his waist, his own arm finds its home around your shoulders. 

You make the small hike up the mountain to where there's a lookout, taking a seat in the grass you look up at the stars where they seem even brighter than they were from the roof of your home. "I'll miss this view the most, I think."

"Lookin' up at the stars definitely won't be the same tomorrow night." he responds, taking the opportunity to sit next to you this time so he can really commit your face to memory. 

"It's beautiful." a smile makes its way across your lips and you miss the way he's looking at you when he replies.

"Yeah, it sure is." his eyes trail your face, quickly looking away when you finally look over at him.

At some point you fell asleep in Rhett's arms, awaking slightly damp from the morning dew and when the first rays of sunshine were finally making their way into Wyoming. You smile at the way you were curled against his chest, his arm wrapping around your hip and resting on the exposed skin there. He stirs when he feels the arm you had draped across his torso move and he looks down at you and offers a gentle smile. "Good morning, darlin'."

You return his smile with a sad sigh, "mornin'."

You both sit up, and as always he's hopping up before you so he can offer his hand to pull you up to start the walk back to the truck. 

"What time you headin' out?" he asks, packing tobacco into his lip, an action that shouldn't be sexy but is coming from him. 

"Uh, well.. I wanted to be leavin' now but I won't say no to breakfast?" you say with a smile and he chuckles, starting the vehicle and heading back towards town as you shoot your mom a text that Rhett and you are grabbing breakfast out so she doesn't need to worry about fixing you a plate. 

He pulls into town and parks outside the dinner, both of you take your time making your way and inside. The silence is comfortable as you sip your coffee, speaking only when the waitress comes for your order. 

The coffee sits like a hot coal in your stomach, nervousness for the drive and leaving your entire life, the man you fell in love with. Sure, he's three years older, 21 to your 18, but that never stopped him from being there for you. Everyone at school called you "Rhett's girl", they all knew not to mess around with you or he would be on their case. Despite all the buckle bunnies throwing themselves at him, he only ever had eyes for you.

It was easy to love him. 

The food arrived and only then did you two make small talk. He asked pretty basic questions:

Where are you staying? In the dorms. Do you have a roommate? No, I don’t think so. What courses are you taking? I don’t know yet. 

How long are you going to be gone? You hesitated on answering that, unsure of how long you were going to be gone and if you were even planning on coming back. “I don’t know, Rhett.” 

He nods his head and puts cash down on the table, enough to cover the bill and leave plenty extra for the tip. He slides from the booth and offers his hand to you to help you stand up, you smile at the gesture and take the outstretched palm as you rise. “Well, guess we better get you back home so you can say your goodbyes and whatnot to your family.” 

Rhett dropped you off at your mom’s house, his eyes following you inside as he walked over to your car, opening the unlocked door to pop the hood so he can check your oil and top of any fluids that needed it. Your mom watches him from the kitchen window as you say goodbye to your younger sister and brother, holding them both maybe a little too tight before you leave.

“It isn’t too late to change your mind, baby.” she says turning to look at you and you stand up and look over at her.

“Mama I can’t stay here, you know that.” you walk up behind her and watch as Rhett double and triple checks everything, even turning your car on and making sure you’ll have enough gas to make a good chunk of the way through Nebraska. 

“Did you tell him?” she asks as she rubs your back.

“Tell him what?” you play oblivious to her question.

“That you love him.” you stiffen at her words and she lets out a small chuckle, “sweetheart the only person in this world who is too blind to see how much you love Rhett, is Rhett himself.”

“I can’t tell him.. If I told him I would want him to leave with me and you and I both know that he isn’t going to leave behind the bull riding and his family’s ranch.” you tell her and fill up a travel mug of coffee.

She sighs and goes to say something when the front door opens and not wanting to track mud throughout your mothers house from his boots, Rhett stands in the doorway, “your car’s all good to go darlin’. Ma’am” he says as he addresses your mom with a small smile. She shoots you a pointed look and you send back a glare. Rhett shuts the door and stands on your front porch, waiting for you to come out after saying a long goodbye to your mom. 

“I was in your position, and I regret it every single day that I didn’t beg him to come with me. I know how it feels and you’re going to regret it too.” she tells you as she holds you tight.

“You did?” you ask and she nods.

“Yeah, I mean, granted I came back and married him, but your father and I lost years of what our relationship could have been, and then he passed away in that bull accident. Don’t make the same mistakes that I did.” she wipes her thumbs over your face and you shake your head. 

“I can’t tell him.. He probably doesn’t even feel the same way.”

“You never know unless you say something, so say something or risk losing him forever.”

Rhett looks back at you as you open the front door and he holds it as you step outside, “you ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be moving 15 hours across the country.” you laugh and he gives you a small smile before walking with you to your car. He opens the door and you throw your small bag inside that contains your wallet, cellphone, and charging cord. “Hey Rhett-”

“So listen-” he says at the same time as you, “you go first.”

You shake your head, “no, you can.” 

“Be safe, please? You’ll have to stop for an oil change along the way so I left some money in the glovebox for you and there’s pepper spray in there as well should you need to use it, on the drive or in the city.” he tells you and you nod, opening your mouth to say something and he takes a step back, cutting you off. “It’s almost noon, you should be headin’ out.” 

“Yeah, I uh, I guess I should.” you say, gripping your car as he walks back up to pull you in a quick hug, kissing your head before pulling away.

You inhale as much of his scent as you can, trying to commit it to memory - the tobacco and coffee of his breath as he exhales across your face, the cedar of his cologne, and the mint of his aftershave that’s barely clinging to his skin.

He climbs into the cab of his truck, head leaning back against his seat as he watches your car pull out of your driveway, tail lights fading down the road with the dust trail you leave, he pounds his steering wheel, cursing himself for not kissing you or telling you how much you meant to him and that he loved you. 

You looked back in your rearview, your childhood home and Rhett’s truck fading into the background as you headed towards your future, your new life in the big city.

Life regrettably going on for the both of you, without each other.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Five

After a morning of frantic creativity in the studio, I head down to the shop with a head buzzing with thoughts of Christmas motifs. Petra is comparatively calm, sitting behind the till reading a crochet magazine in her lap and drinking a hot chocolate from one of the sachets she keeps in a drawer with the excess breast shaped candles. “Oh hello.” She says serenely. “Have you come to do the window?”

“I have.” I go into the storage closet next to the employee bathroom and start yanking bits of blue roll off the holder, wrestling my way through the clutter and piles of empty postal boxes for a squeegee and a bottle of industrial window cleaner. 

“I can’t wait to see how it turns out.” She flips the page while I start spraying the window and buffing off the dirt and streaks. It’s a smaller window than the café I worked on back home, but tenfold more intimidating, seeing that this is an actual art shop with actual artists working upstairs who will no doubt notice things like crooked ‘o’s or asymmetrical ‘m’s. Recalling the mistakes I made the last time, I first sketch an outline on the outside of the window. The sun is hot on my hair. 

The muscles in my arms ache from the gym as badly as I expected they would. As I work I silently curse Shane Healy and his wicked exercise regime, and every time I lift a paint pen to the glass and my biceps groan I curse him harder. I am tired too, my eyes feel dry and heavy after a poor night’s sleep, tossing and turning in my bed with a head whirring with thoughts of Izzy’s gig. I think about it now too. Of Jen especially, and how different she was, but of Jude too, and the strange rift between them. I can’t help but recall all of those little details like the purple skin under his eyes, the nicotine stains on his fingers. Jen’s thin body, the vacancy in her stare. It was freaky to see them both like that, to witness their distance when all I’ve ever known of them was their closeness.

I start sketching out the lettering for ‘mezzotint’. I have a design in an open notebook at my feet, and I refer back to it again and again, trying my best to mark out the shapes as symmetrically as possible. It starts off well. I’m careful, I’m precise, and I realise that focussing as hard as I can upon the task makes it harder for me to dwell on other thoughts. I don’t notice the time passing me by, the shadows moving across the pavement, I even drown out the sound of the tram as it passes, and it’s just me and this window and these pens and…

“Um, hello?” I get such a fright that my marker slips across the window, sending a slash of white through my meticulous lettering. “Shit.”

“Fuck, sorry.” It’s Jude. He’s reaching for a damp cloth so he can help me to erase it. I never even heard him coming. 

“Oh, God, Jude, don’t worry about it, it’s just the guide.”

He pulls the cloth over his finger and uses the flat edge of his fingernail to carefully remove the offending mark from where it cuts right through one of the Zs. “Sorry I scared you, I was trying to catch your attention from across the street for like, a minute. I thought you’d heard me.”

“It’s okay, honestly.” I take his wrist and lift the cloth out of his hand. “I’ll fix it later. Like I said, this is just the guide bit. I’ll erase it later anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, it’s fine, it’s just a stupid white line, nothing to get upset about.”

He looks up at the window. “It’s looking good though.”

“You think?”

“I do.” He smiles at me. “Nice job. I’m glad I caught you in time for lunch.”

“It’s lunch?”

“Yeah it’s like five past one.”

“Oh.” I frown. “I swear to God, sometimes I seem to just switch my brain off when I’m working.”

“I know the feeling. Do you have time to get food? If not it’s totally fine, I probably should have texted you or something, I couldn’t remember if we actually made a plan to get lunch or if I just ended up being vague with you.”

I smirk as I start bundling up my art supplies. “You asked me if I take lunch, and then you walked away.” After brushing my cheek with his thumb in a way that made my stomach bottom out, but I don’t bring that part up.

“Ah, sounds like me.” He holds the door for me as I carry my things into the shop. “If you’re not free it’s fine, by the way, I can get lost.”

“No, we can get lunch.” I smile at Petra who is eating a sandwich at the till, and we give each other a quick wave as I leave my supplies on the floor and head back outside. “Where’s Astrid today? Are you meeting her after lunch to do the big tourist round of Dublin?”

“Ah.” He says as we fall into step next to each other. “She’s not feeling well. She doesn’t want to do anything today.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Mm.”

“Do you think you’ll go tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure, she, well, she kind of wants to just go back to Berlin at the moment, I’m trying to convince her to stay for the rest of the week but-” He shrugs. “I dunno. We’ll see how it goes.”

“Not a fan of Dublin City?”

“Something like that, maybe.”

“I don’t blame her.” The Liffey still stinks as we cross it. A man leans over the railings and hawks up a mouthful of spit to launch into it. I shudder. “It’d be a pity to cut the holiday short all the same.”

“I’d bring her back to Berlin if I could, it’s just with the things I have to do…”

“That family stuff you mentioned?”

“Yeah. My mom is away on business this week, she needs someone to take care of Ivy. Like, bring her to school, cook dinner, laundry, all of that stuff.”

“Oh, damn. Is your dad away too?”

“No.” He kicks a coke can into the road and it goes under the wheels of a passing bus. “He just won’t- can’t do it. He’s not a big fan of, uh, parenting her.”

I frown. “Like, at all?”

“At all.”

“So what does he do?”

He exhales a laugh. “He’s very busy.”

“Right.”

“He’s rarely home for dinner. He works a lot. Late hours, paperwork, you know the drill.” I don’t know the drill. My dad only ever worked steady, predictable hours in the medical factory, and my mam, well, hasn’t worked since she gave up her secretary job in 1993. I can’t remember a time that she wasn’t at home, potatoes boiling in the pot while she scrubbed every corner of our tiny council house. She was always there to look after me.

Jude asks me what I want to eat, and I tell him that he can choose, so we head east along the river. “I know it’s weird,” He continues defensively, even though I haven’t said anything “that my mom would rather get her adult son to look after their child than her own husband, who like, you know, fathered her, but it’s just the way the situation is.”

“Yeah it’s not great, obviously, but I suppose this is an exceptional circumstance. One time is inconvenient but manageable.”

He gives me a sideways glance. “Yes. One time.”

The conversation shifts to Ivy as we venture into the Liberties, and he tells me about her. She’s almost thirteen now, she’s in first year of secondary school, she’s still bad at piano and has to be forced to go to her lessons. She still never practises. I like watching Jude’s face when he talks about her, he gets very animated. It’s like he’s a bit proud of her, like he finds her funny, like he genuinely likes being around her. I consider his relationship with Ivy in contrast to Shane and Kelly, siblings who would have beat each other to death with remote controls, fighting for the teddy bears with the hardest plastic eyes, the biggest battery packs so they could cause maximum damage to one another when they smashed each other across the backs with them. I often counted my blessings over the fact that I was an only child when one of them started up a battle, but now, for a brief moment, I catch myself mourning the absence of the sibling I never had. 

He takes me to a food van that sells coffee and Italian sandwiches at the foot of an apartment complex. I grab a chicken and pesto panini, which he pays for, and we take a seat on the grass in a nearby park. Jude stretches his legs out in front of him and leans on his elbows. He’s wearing shorts and a fleece, green and white runners and tube socks that have fallen down a bit on one side to reveal a strip of pale skin right up against the deep tan of his legs. He’s away in his thoughts again, eyes turned glassy as he stares out across the park to somewhere among the young trees planted by the fence. My eyes automatically follow the lines of his profile, from his forehead over the slight roman curve of his nose and down to the long line of his throat before I realise I’m staring too much, reading his visual language like a painting at a gallery, so I examine my sandwich instead. 

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him. 

“Oh.” He says. “Nothing, I don’t even know.”

“Mm.”

He gives me a half smile. “Maybe I was thinking about how I’m glad we could meet for lunch today.”

He definitely wasn’t. “Of course. It’s been nice, you know, to see you again.”

“I missed talking to you.”

“Did you?”

“I did.”

I nod. “Well, I missed that too. I’m sorry-”

“No more sorrys.” He reminds me. “It’s all water under the bridge, and like I said, I have more to be sorry for than you do.”

I smile, then he smiles, before getting distracted by a nearby dandelion. He plucks it, and instead of blowing away the seeds he rather barbarically picks them off with his fingers and flicks them into the wind. I wonder if he made a wish. “I hope everything was alright last night with Michelle.” I say, hoping my prying doesn’t seem too much like, well, prying.

“Ah, yes. It was fine she just had to tell me about something that happened.”

“Hope it was nothing bad.”

“Well, I don’t know. It was just… well, nothing.”

He isn’t going to tell me. “Is it a bit weird,” I pivot “That Michelle and Jen are friends? Like I’ve wondered before. I saw them together in a bar a couple of years ago and I was surprised that they seemed close. Do you ever feel, like, a bit put out that your best friend stayed close with your ex?”

He shakes his head. “No, because they were friends first. They went to primary school together, and when I moved to Ireland I started hanging out with them. We were a trio of friends.”

“Really? You and Jen and Michelle?”

“And some other people here and there, on and off at times, but yeah, we were.”

“And then…”

“And then one day I ruined it and kissed Michelle.”

“Oh.”

He splits the stem of the dandelion with his thumbnail, opening it up to flatten against his palm. “I seem to have this weird impulse issue where I can’t stop fancying my friends and then inevitably destroying everything.”

“Harsh. Surely you’ve had a female friend that you haven’t tried to kiss.”

He thinks about it. “Sure, but not as many as I’d like to admit to. When I really get to know people it’s hard for me not to blur the lines, to think that everything about them is beautiful, or whatever.”

“But Jen?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” He rolls his eyes at himself. “I kissed Jen too. When we were thirteen. She called me a fucking freak and went off crying.” His mouth quirks up at the corner. “And then a month of no contact later she approached me in the school yard and said she was sorry, that she actually realised that it wasn’t I specifically who was disgusting, it was just that she didn’t like boys.”

“She sort of came out because of you?”

“Yeah, well, because of my bad habits.”

I mirror him and start picking the grass. “I hope that she’s doing well.” I say. 

“Yeah, me too. Things aren’t that great between us at the moment.” 

“I’m sure it’ll get better.”

He sighs. “Friendships do this, you know, especially long ones. People kind of eclipse in and out of your life, and it’s easier for it to happen when you’re in your twenties. I guess she’s just, like, eclipsed out right now. I think I should have tried to be a bit more understanding over Pamela. I think I was a bit full on when she started confiding things to me. Jen doesn’t often get into relationships so I can see why she’s been pouring all of her time into this one, it’s just, well, I suppose it’s whatever. It’s not worth getting into it.”

“I think things always get complicated eventually.” I remark. “The longer you’re friends with someone the more likely it is that there’ll be conflict, and then when there is it’s so bad, like they know how to hurt you more than anybody else.”

“A bit vulnerable.”

“Very.” I say. “Back in first year I had a big fight with Claire.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It was because of… well, basically I just lied to her by omission. It wasn’t very wise of me to think that she wouldn’t find out on her own, but I don’t really like conflict, in case you didn’t notice that.”

“Who, you?” He grins. 

“But I was so used to always just taking on everything, like, blaming myself for being wrong and for ruining everything, but actually, when we finally got to talk about it and try to fix things, she admitted that she felt the same. She felt like she’d been in the wrong, and that she shouldn’t have reacted the way that she did. I suppose it was healing, or something, to realise that we both hurt the other, and it was okay because our friendship was stronger than that.”

“And now?”

“Now we’re great, we’re perfect. When I fell out with Kelly I thought about it all the time. I still think about it, honestly. I think about the things I wish I’d said to her instead of the things I really did say, and I imagine scenarios where I win and I make her look so stupid. And sometimes…” I wonder if the next part is too insane to admit. “…I think about mowing her down with my bicycle or shoving her into a massive thorny hedge and she gets all scratched up and has twigs stuck in her curls that she can’t get out for hours, and maybe they’ll get so tangled that she’ll eventually have to have them cut out-”

Jude lets out a loud, surprised cackle. “Specific.” 

“-and everyone points and laughs at her, and she runs off crying, and I know it’s so stupid and those things would never actually happen, but I’ve never stopped being angry with her, or actually, angry with myself for being weak for our entire friendship.”

“You weren’t weak.”

“No, it’s okay. I think I was.”

“And now? What about with Claire?”

“With Claire I don’t feel that way at all. I handled it so differently, it felt mature and fair, like, I was upset while the fight was happening and for the month that we didn’t speak, but after that, yeah, it was fine. We’re good. I don’t even care about the fight because we fixed it.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Well, that’s lucky then.”

“Whatever it is with Jen, I’m sure you’ll fix it too.”

He sighs. “She’s complicated. It really goes back further than just this year, there’s things I should have done the whole way along, ways I should have been there for her but wasn’t. I’m kind of coming to terms with being a bit of a shit friend.”

“It’s not like you to talk yourself down so much.”

“Hm, well I’m trying out this new thing where I’m more honest with myself.”

“How’s it going?”

“Horribly. It feels very bad.” He smiles weakly. “I think I’ve had a lifetime of being a bastard and it’s all manifesting this year, like I turned twenty one and it decided to come and bite me.” he suddenly sits up straighter and shudders, like he’s physically shaking the self deprecating thoughts from his head. “I don’t mean to be so miserable right now, Jesus.”

“You can be miserable all you like.”

“No.” He gently tugs on the cuff of my jean leg. “I want to hear about you. Tell me about this fancy internship. It was too loud in the bar last night to really get into it.”

I grimace. “It’s really not that interesting.”

“Tell me everything.” He insists. “Don’t leave anything out. When did you apply?”

I sigh and I lie back in the grass so that I can watch the clouds drift past. “Okay well…”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[amessageonthewind]

New Horizons

Pairing: Connor/Hannah 1 year after being married.

Word Count: 1360

My half of my art trade with @nerdstreak

Skylines had quickly become a favourite of the Anderson household. Well, more accurately the love for them had been reignited once new life had taken residence in the household that had been previously haunted by the natural oppressive presence of grief, blame, and guilt. The solitude only amplified the suffocating nature of such a haunting.

The home was plagued by solitude no longer, now that Lieutenant Hank Anderson had acquired (though, more accurately adopted) two androids. Something he never thought he’d ever do.

Not until he’d met Connor and Hannah. It was a strange set of circumstances he’d found himself in and he had no choice but to deal with them, though Connor was way more of a pain in the ass. Actually…Hannah was nothing but a sweetheart, to be frank. The fact that she was his android for a while did make him a bit uncomfortable, but once she had deviated and still chose to stay with him in his home, he’d felt not even an echo of that discomfort in quite some time.

Now, these two were like family. They’d only been a part of the lieutenant’s life for a comparatively short time, but their inclusion in it left nothing left to be desired for someone as weathered as he was. For a while, the Anderson household was completely devoid of community. And now, community was all it ever saw.

Case and point, Riverside Park. What was once a painful reminder of the loss that Hank had suffered had now become a place of new beginnings. Hannah was standing by the railings of the park, easel set up and painting the skyline. She was experimenting with painting a picture using one colour in various shades and saturations while including whatever fleeting thoughts pass through her mind during the painting process. She may have been an android designed to copy art pieces by the man who previously owned her, but her artistic merit could not be understated…and she had only grown more and more skilled every day.

It had been roughly a year since Hannah and Connor had gotten married, Markus having officiated the wedding and Hank being proud to be asked to walk her down the aisle. Androids were just starting out, developing their own distinct culture, customs, and traditions all on their own. Some of them borrowed from human culture – after all, humans did create them and maybe over time, androids would become more and more divorced from human culture as they began to properly evolve and grow on their own – while others adamantly refused to.

Hank couldn’t possibly keep up with all of it, interesting though it was, but he was perfectly content supporting the pair of them.

On the bench, Hank and Connor were both contentedly observing Hannah while she painted. He was enjoying the atmosphere and the sounds of the hustle and bustle of the park and the bridge in the distance. Meanwhile Connor’s eyes were squarely on his wife. He was a man who valued details, as per his function and his naturally curious personality. It was hard not to take in every detail of his wife, the furrow of her brow and the focus in her eyes, every deliberate stroke of her brush delivered through avenue of her delicate hands.

And, of course, the art piece itself, a picture pulled from her mind’s eye so complex and unknown even to herself, like many androids who were living in this new world of deviancy and free will. Every detail and fleeting thought depicted on the canvas told him of everything that went on around and even inside Hannah.

Even without speaking, his world expanded every time he even so much looked at her. It was easy for Connor to sink into it as he gazed at her. So much so that he almost didn’t realize that Hank was speaking to him. “I’m sorry?”

“Jeez, I’m not used to you actually getting distracted. But it’s been a long time since I’ve seen people look at each other the way you two do, so I can’t really complain.” Hank gruffly joked, a jovial tone in his voice as he chuckled in affectionate amusement at the android he’d come to see as a son. “I was just asking if you and Hannah thought about maybe going on a late honeymoon or something since you two got hitched.”

Connor tilted his head a bit. He heard of the concept and he was aware of it, but he had never really considered it personally. It sounded pleasant, upon reflection. It just simply hadn’t crossed his mind until now. “We haven’t discussed it previously, why?”

Hank simply shrugged, pursing his lips underneath his grayed beard for a moment before he leaned back against the bench, pale eyes reflecting the colour of the sky cast back to it. “Just wondering. It’s not important or anything, it’s just…a nice thing to sorta go off on your own somewhere with your partner and not have to worry about any responsibilities or work and just be with them. Away from the rest of the world, y’know?” He replied. It had been a while since he’d even thought about his ex-wife and she’d been out of his life for so long that she was nothing more than a neutral footnote in his mind.

But, it was nice to actually have something of a reason to think about stuff like this. Hannah and Connor deserved to know all the nice parts of being in a relationship and being married. He just figured he’d float some options to them if they were interested. There weren’t a lot of travel options for androids, still, but they could probably plan something if they wanted to go for it. Hank could handle being alone better now than he used to, now that his house felt like a home, again.

Ruminating on the covert suggestion that Hank had offered, though hesitant to interrupt his wife, Connor got up from his seat and discreetly made his way towards her, hands folded neatly behind his back, thumb fiddling with the wedding finger snugly fit onto its respective finger. The very same one that glinted in the light on Hannah’s hand as she painted.

He was about to speak up to get her attention when he paused to observe her painting. Amongst the hues of blue were little shapes and silhouettes of everything that was going on around her – children running and playing with their families, birds, dogs, and of course…planes.

One of which was followed by a trail of little bright blue hearts that dotted the canvas brightest among all the hues and shades. Hannah, of course, was neither blind nor deaf. She had overheard Connor’s conversation with Hank on the park bench and a soft warm smile was gracing her lips as she set her brush down, turning to meet her beloved husband’s soft gaze.

Naturally, he knew instantly that she’d overheard him and patiently waited for her response. “I haven’t really thought about it much, myself. But…I think it’s a great idea. Just going off somewhere, you and me, and not having to worry about anything else. Just us for a little while. Don’t you?”

Gaze flitting between the beautiful azure canvas of the Detroit skyline dotted with all of the immediate experiences around her, he gave her his signature lopsided grin, reaching for her hand and bending down to kiss her forehead, a contented hum accompanying the affectionate and loving gesture. “I think so, too.”

Chuckling in satisfaction, Hank leaned back and crossed his arms, eyes grazing the skyline again. Man…this placed used to be somewhere so painful. Somewhere that reopened old scars. A place he used for the same purpose he used alcohol.

Now, it was a place that bandaged those wounds and allowed them to heal…and he owed it to these two. He might not live nearly as long as they would, especially at his age, but he had every confidence that they would live a long and happy life together.

So finally, he could say without a doubt that Hank Anderson would die a happy man.

[toasted-valentine]

Analysis of the song “Choker” by Raincloud Halo

(Note: I do not own any of these characters, I am just very intense about artists I like, and my adhd is very unmedicated right now so I’m on my hyperfixation bullshit. All characters belong to @cynopter / @tobyisave, I am but a humble nerd who needs to let my energy out somehow.)

Cw suicide, strangulation, general violence, OCD, and intrusive thoughts.

Linking to the creator’s post about the characters, I’m just gonna go more in depth and speculate about specifics within the song and what each lyric could be alluding to. Again, send this dude bro all the love, motherfucker deserves it for scratching at the adhd parts of my brain and having such crunchy looking art. Anyways, if their art had a flavor it would be salty and spicy, and that’s my favorite, so go check them out.

Gonna go bit by bit, lyrics in orange, my notes in white.

“Veering off the path

With the devil on my shoulder”

Townsend went as far into the middle of nowhere as they could get to hang themself, they’re going off the already established paths to make sure no one finds them. People who kill themself will sometimes go out of the way to make sure their loved ones don’t find them. This is most likely what Townsend is doing, not realizing that it’ll trap her as a ghost. The devil line is a reference to the fact that their family and community blamed their OCD on the devil, so Townsend’s religious trauma is showing it’s hand.

“A sturdy branch that won't snap

And Baby's jacket dangling at my waist

'Cause he won't miss it when he's older”

First part is just referencing Townsend finding a branch that’ll hold their weight so that they can hang themself, the second bit is what I’m more interested in. Townsend stole her baby brother’s jacket to take with her as a reminder as to why she’s doing this, and I believe the line has a duel meaning. Townsend’s brother won’t miss the jacket when he’s older, sure, but he also won’t miss May. He’s a baby at this point, he hasn’t been hit with the consciousness beam yet, he won’t remember the older sister that died if she does it now.

“It gets really bad

I don't know why they're not scared of that

I only dream of hurting him

Now images of wringing him out”

Townsend is terrified of her intrusive thoughts, she had OCD and is suffering from violent compulsions. She wants someone to hold her accountable, to hurt her, to keep their distance so she doesn’t hurt them. It’s why she commits suicide, in her mind it’s the best possible way to keep her from hurting her brother since she loves him. She’s sort of hyping herself up in this moment, once more reminding herself as to why she’s doing this.

“No one ever tell you not to nurse the wolf pup?

Now I've gone and tied the ends off on this strife

Sorry, that's just what happens when you trust me with my life”

May sees herself as a dangerous creature, therefore is comparing her family keeping her around to keeping a wolf around. In her mind she’s just going to maul someone, so she needs to be put down for the greater good. She finishes tying the noose, apologizes one last time, and dies.

“The city

Good people passing through me everywhere I go”

May wakes up as a ghost, she’s officially the ghost at the towns end, and Townsend is figuratively born. The thing is, since she’s a ghost, no one can see her. Everyone around her seem like “good people”, better than her, and she’s stuck alone having to watch them. It’s like living in hell, seeing “normal” people just living their lives, and none of them seeing the supposed demon standing right by them. It’s why she lives in the edge of town, she can’t stand to see them.

“And I hate that you found mе

Don't want to have to say I told you so”

Enter stage left Phượng, she can see ghosts and finds Townsend. And Townsend fucking hates it, not because she necessarily dislikes Phượng, but because it means she could potentially hurt someone. As much as Phượng reassures Townsend that she’s not dangerous, she doesn’t believe it and is waiting for the “I told you so” moment. She’s anticipating the moment she snaps and hurts Phượng, and is fucking terrified of the thought.

“"Don't touch me, I'll kill you"

The devils will slip through”

Townsend is trying to keep Phượng and her brother as emotionally distant as humanly possible, it’s safer that way after all, at least it is in Townsend’s mind. Along with that she’s trying to get Phượng to lash out and exorcise her, to kill her and get it over with. It’s a fucked up way of trying to protect the two. The devils line is once again referencing Townsend’s religious upbringing and her belief that Satan himself is fucking with her brain and making her want to kill.

“But still you hold me to yourself in bed

Like it’s all in my head”

Phượng has full knowledge of Townsend supposedly being an evil ghost, and in spite of that, she still wants her. She still loves Townsend, she loves May, and still is completely comfortable sleeping next to May. Phượng knows that May would never hurt her, May can’t event stomach the idea of hurting someone, let alone hurting her partner. Phượng keeps telling May that it’s just in her head and that that there’s no way May would hurt her, pulls her close at night so there’s not the kind of distance May thinks is safe for Phượng, is insistent that May isn’t dangerous or evil. Specifically having it be when Phượng is sleeping next to May is something interesting to take note of, because she trusts May at what could be considered a person’s most vulnerable state. People can’t defend themself when sleeping, so it’s a big sign of trust and security in May.

“But it gets so bad

I don't know why you're not scared of that

I'm thinking of your broken body

Reaching in and squeezing softly”

Townsend’s worst night has started pulling itself out of the hellscape that is her OCD, the intrusive thoughts and homicidal compulsions have transferred onto Phượng. She’s started thinking about killing Phượng, and it’s hell. What’s worse is that the compulsions have gotten more gorey and violent, which scares Townsend. Even still, after presumably telling Phượng about her compulsions, Phượng remains a devoted partner and isn’t scared of May. It confuses the hell out of May, Phượng knows damn well what May is thinking about, and she still loves May.

“No one ever tell you not to play with fire?

Somehow got to hang me higher than your knife”

(Going to be so for real, I’ve got no clue what the knife line is referring to, so gonna focus on the other one. )

The line about fire has a larger meaning, May is comparing herself to fire, something dangerous and deadly. Thing is, Phượng isn’t scared of fire, she burns stuff often as offerings to her sister. May saying she’s deadly, that Phượng is playing with fire, but it’s a double meaning that helps show why Phượng isn’t scared of Townsend. Phượng can see the good in fire, the good it can do for her sister, and is completely fine around it. Townsend is fire to Phượng, but in the sense of the warmth and safety it brings, and more importantly the love.

“I swear to god

Stop saying that you trust me with your life!”

Phượng keeps trying to reassure May, tell her that she trust her, but it’s just cold comfort to May. May couldn’t even be trusted with her own life, how is she expected to be trusted with her partner’s? It’s the racing thoughts of not being able to keep a loved one safe, and all their reassurances not making May feel better. Sometimes loved ones say the wrong thing and can cause people suffering from a mental illness to spiral or lash out, being told this just makes May feel like she got handed a loaded weapon with a hair trigger on it.

“ "Choke her" Fuck Him" "Devil"

Why would I do that?

Why would I do that?

Why would I do that?

"Choke her" Fuck Him" "Devil"

Why would I do that?

Why would I do that?

Why would I do that?”

May is full in her own mind at this point, she’s scaring the every loving hell out of herself, and questioning why she’d even want to choke her loved ones to death. It’s scary, and she just is repeating the question over and over again in her mind. The three most common intrusive thoughts she has are full swing, the thought of choking Phượng, the thought of harming her brother, and the thought that keeps calling herself the devil due to her religious trauma. It’s bouncing back and forth between the compulsions and questioning why she’d ever even think of doing that. The bridge is basically just one extended panic attack May is having in her mind.

“Choker!”

Roll credits.

But seriously, this is just May calling herself choker, and the compulsion of “choke her” morphing into an insult in her mind due to the stress and similarity of pronunciation. Townsend has managed to find a way to turn her compulsion into a title/self loathing term by meshing the two words together.

“I lover her

And I love my baby brother

Love her (Devil)

Love her (Devil)

Lover (Devil)”

May is reaffirming her love for her brother and for Phượng in her mind, along with accepting the fact she is in love with Phượng. She accepts Phượng as her lover and is willing to have that vulnerability, even tho her own low self esteem keeps causing thoughts that call her the devil. She’s trying to comfort herself with continued remembrance that these are the two people she loves most in the world.

“I’d never do that

(Choke her)”

I think this line can be read two ways,

•May accepting that she’d never actually hurt Phượng because she loves Phượng, even if the compulsions are still ringing in the back of her mind.

•Townsend having a crisis of conscious and desperately trying to cling onto the last bit of self soothing she can find when she feels like the intrusive thoughts and OCD are consuming her.

Personally I like the first one more because it leaves the door open for hope and the possibility of May being able to life a happy life with her lover. The mental illness may never go away, but she still knows that she loves Phượng and her little brother, and at the end of the day she’d never hurt them.

Moral of the story, intrusive thoughts don’t make you a bad person, there is no such thing as thought crime, and the Catholic Church should never be trusted with mental health issues.

This is just my own interpretation and analysis, I could be completely off the mark with this one, I just am having fun.

Again, please go check out the original creator, his work is amazing and he deserves more love for it. Their work really resonates with me, especially Choker with the fears of how intrusive thoughts could harm loved ones, and I think there’s a lot of good to be had in someone making stuff like this. Plus, the dude is just generally really skilled, and you can see the amount of effort it took to get to this point in his various artistic endeavors. I pray for that man’s wrist, the carpel tunnel must be so bad.

[dicaculus]

Title: A Pile of Hot Metal and Dirty Dishes

Artist: Crankyfossil

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Magnus Bane/ Alec Lightwood

Wordcount:42,462

Summary: Magnus Bane is the Head Chef at Encanto and doing just fine. Or that’s what he tells Simon the therapist, his boss Raphael, orders him to go to. Magnus is a genius in the kitchen, his food is art, but if he starts a fight with one more disrespectful customer, he’s gone. Simon is useless though, going on about Magnus using work as a means to distance himself from meaningful relationships, and emotional walls that could rival a fortress. What does he know? Magnus is fine. Then everything goes wrong. His best friend, Catarina and her daughter get into an accident. His eight-year-old niece, Madzie, is the only survivor and Magnus finds himself going from cool uncle Magnus to the only parent Madzie has left. To make matters worse, Raphael has replaced him while he’s on leave. Alexander Lightwood is a menace. He’s careless, breezy, and annoyingly good at everything he does. Magnus can’t stand him, but with Madzie refusing to eat his cooking and his hands full, Magnus needs all the help he can get. Along the way, Magnus begins to realize there’s more to life than seared cod and lemon dressing, and maybe, just maybe, it’s a life that he wants Alexander Lightwood in.

This fic was created for the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2023.

READ ON AO3

CHAPTER THREE

The rest of the week is spent the same. Every morning, Magnus makes Madzie’s lunch then he takes Madzie to school and spends the rest of his day looking and thinking about meals she might enjoy. He picks her up from school, helps her with her homework and spends the evening trying to get to know her.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Magnus asks one night,

“Red,”

“Red is a great colour. Do you have a favourite animal?”

But much too soon the week is over, and Magnus has to go back to work. Despite Madzie’s protests, Magnus hires a babysitter for the night. He’d gone through an agency that Clary recommended to him, claiming she’d never had a problem with any of the sitters. 

“I told you, I don’t need a babysitter. I’m not a baby anymore.” Madzie protests when Magnus hugs her goodbye.

“I can’t leave you here alone, Madzie,” He sighs

“Why not? I’m perfectly fine.”

“Madzie, you barricaded the door last week when you alone and heard sirens, remember?” He puts his arms around her shoulder and squeezes it. “I just want you to be safe, okay sweetpea?

“I charge from when I get her, you know”

Magnus glares at the sitter, interrupting their discussion “Yeah, okay” He kisses Madzie’s forehead, whispering at her to behave herself, and he’s out the door. “I’ll see you tonight, okay”

“Okay. Have fun at work”

Magnus arrives while lunch service is in full swing, he’s late but Raphael has Alec in the kitchen now so it shouldn’t be a big deal and he definitely doesn’t deserve the stern glare he gets from Raphael while he’s on the phone taking a booking.

“I know, I know,” he says, bristling past the man.

Magnus ignores the chorus of ‘Hi chefs’ and completely avoids contact with Alec, who he can feel staring into his back. He takes his time changing into his chef’s whites and finally ties his apron around his waist, looking at himself in the mirror.

“You need this job, Magnus,” He tells his reflection. “It’s not just you anymore, you have Madzie to take care of.” Magnus takes a few calming breaths, looks into the sink, then looks back at his reflection. “Alexander isn’t worth the prison time and you wouldn’t do well in prison.”

Another deep breath and Magnus leaves the bathroom, walking down the hall with his head held high as he steps into his kitchen. The very first thing he does is turn off the opera, coming from Alec’s phone.

“You don’t like music?” Alec asks

Magnus can feel Alec’s eyes on him, but he keeps his eyes on the plate in front of him. “It’s distracting my staff, and put your phone away. The last thing I need is for it to fall in my saffron sauce.”

Thankfully, for the rest of the lunch service, Magnus manages to stay away from the other chef. He works on his own, adding the finishing garnishes and and makes sure every dish that leave the kitchen is up to his standards. But unfortunately at staff lunch it’s impossible to avoid Alec. Every day between lunch and dinner service, the staff would have a potluck lunch, a chance to eat, but also a chance to ask questions and go over the menu for the evening. Per usual, Magnus sits at the far end of the table, phone in hand. He’d never joined in on the meal. Eating in the afternoon always made the chef feel tired, sluggish and in need of a nap. Plates of food get passed to him, but he keeps passing them down to his left without looking up from his device. He hears the other chefs and servers praising the various dishes, especially Alec’s pasta dish.

“Chef?” 

Magnus looks up at the plate of pasta being offered to him, “Oh, no, thank you.”

“Only a full cook can judge food. When you’re hungry, everything tastes better than it really is.” Alec points out the other chefs around him nod in agreement.

“I never eat in the afternoon.” Magnus says firmly, hoping Alec will drop the subject.With his coworkers looking at him, Magnus feels put on the spot and he hates it. He’s about to accept a plate to get Alec off his back but doesn’t get the chance.

Alec, who is seated at the other end of the table, stands and despite working with him, it’s only now that he notices how tall the chef is. He walks from his end of the table all the way over to Magnus and leans down, putting himself into Magnus’s space. He can smell his spicy cologne and the spices he’d been cooking with earlier invade Magnus’s nostrils. He can feel Alec’s warm body against his. Alec is firm with muscles and Magnus hates himself for how he stares at Alec’s biceps, his shirt stretching over the muscles. 

“My grandmother whispered this recipe into my ear on her deathbed. She brought it over from the Old Country,” he pauses to directly at Magnus, “And I made it especially for you today.”

Magnus shoves a forkful of pasta of the dish in his mouth, feeling the pressure with all the eyes on him. Of course, it’s delicious. Magnus hates how much he’s enjoy the one bite he’s taken. The pasta is a perfect al dente, the tomato sauce is made with chunky blistered cherry tomatoes, it’s sweet and rich with basil and garlic. The parmesan adds a needed salty element balancing the sweet tomatoes and much as he’d love to take another bite; he puts his fork down, not wanting to Alec the satisfaction.

“Happy”

“Very happy.” Alec says with a smirk on his face and walks back to his seat at the other end of the table.

“I thought your grandmother lived in Miami.” Raphael mentions

Magnus fumes in his seat while Alec stutters, trying to explain himself.

“Well, we all thought she wasn’t gonna make it. It was like a miracle.”

Magnus pushes himself from the chair and decides he’s better off in the kitchen before he says something he’ll regret. He’s fuming, angry at Alec for lying to him, angry for being put on the spot by his coworkers and embarrassed he fell for it.

“It was a miracle!” Alec calls after him.

A miracle? It’ll be a miracle if Magnus lets Alec survive the dinner service.

Dinner prep goes by, thankfully without incident. They stay on either side of the kitchen working on their own task, Magnus realizes how well this work for them and quickly makes a plan for dinner service. Magnus calls Alec over to the office. He takes the menu pinned to the corkboard and rips the piece of paper in half, handing one half to Alec, who leans against the door frame.

“You take care of those dishes and I’ll take care of these. We’ll stay on different sides of the kitchen.” He stands and goes to leave the office, “Then we won’t get in each other’s way.”

“Wait, yours is bigger than mine!”

Magnus huffs a laugh “Let’s not go there, Alexander” He stops beside Alec, clapping him on the shoulder, leaning into his space much like the other chef had at lunch, “It doesn’t matter how big the list is, Alexander. What matters is what you do with it.”

Alec chokes and his cheeks turn pink at the innuendo. Magnus, pleased with himself, continues into his kitchen, eventually hearing Alec’s feet following behind him.

“Okay,” Magnus claps, “Showtime, folks! Let’s have a good service.”

They do have a good service with the menu split in half, Magnus on one side of the kitchen and Alec on the other. Dishes fly from the kitchen and it pains Magnus to admit that Alec does fit into the kitchen. On his side, the chefs listen attentively to his orders. He dresses his plates beautifully despite Magnus looking for any flaws to pick at. 

Fifteen, two terrines, one Dover sole, two lambs.

Seven carpaccios.

“I’m still waiting on the carpaccio!” Magnus barks, “How long does a raw meat dish take!” 

Magnus wanders past his half of the kitchen, checking on the other chefs, ignoring Alec’s eyes as they land on him. When their eyes do meet Magnus sees the pot he’s stirring, he immediately recognizes the curry sauce that pairs with the sea bass.

“Have you seasoned that right?” Magnus asks, already grabbing a teaspoon 

“Yes, chef.”

He ignores the spoon Alec takes for him and dips his own spoon in the sauce. Magnus swirls the sauce in his mouth and fuck, of course, it’s perf.ect. The perfect amount of heat, the perfect amount of acid, but of course he won’t tell Alec

“It’s okay.” Magnus lies, refusing to admit just how perfect the sauce is. His voice a pitch higher than normal with a shrug then spins on his heels going back to his side of the kitchen. 

“Okay, carpaccio, now and where’s my lamb?”

Magnus spends the rest of dinner on his own side of the kitchen, but he finds his eyes wandering to the other side of the kitchen. Watching as Alec effortlessly laughs with the other chefs, cracking jokes, putting smiles on all the staff’s face, but his heart pinches the most when he sees how he makes Clary laugh. Magnus tries to ignore the laughter and continues on with the service. He takes the first four desserts of the night, two millefeuille with vanilla bean pastry cream topped with berries and chocolate raspberry tarts with a raspberry sorbet. Magnus is leaned over on the metal table using kitchen tweezers to top each piece of pastry with an even number of berries with focus. Magnus is so focused on the berries and not cracking the very delicate pastry, he doesn’t notice Alec scoot in the space behind him to grab dessert plates of his own. So when he stands up, Magnus is chest to chest with Alec, their bodies so close they’re nearly pressed together.

“Sorry,” Magnus says in a breathy voice.

Magnus moves to the right so Alec can squeeze past, but Alec also moves right so they’re still chest to chest. Then they both move left and they both laugh nervously, a blush rising on Alec’s cheeks. Alec puts his plates down and puts his hands on Magnus’s biceps and physically turns them around fixing their problem. Magnus shakes his head, collecting himself with a deep breath to get back to desserts.

“Pardon me.” Alec says, reaching over Magnus to grab the bottle of raspberry coulee.

“I need that.” Magnus groans.

“And you’ll get it right back.”

Magnus sighs and takes the bottles of chocolate ganache instead, dotting it on the chocolate raspberry tarts, then taking the raspberry coulee from Alec when he’s finally with it. For a bit, they’re quiet as they plate the dessert. It’s not awkward, but actually comfortable, and Magnus is okay with it.

“Can I ask you something?” Alec asks, breaking the silence.

Magnus sighs. “Do I have a choice?”

“Where did you learn to cook so well?”

 “My mother.” He says placing a quenelle of raspberry sorbet on the tart. “She taught me everything I know.”

“Seriously? I thought you were gonna say you studied under Ragnor Fell at Ravenscar Manor or something.”

“Oh, I did.” Magnus laughs “But my mom was better, and she didn’t throw plates at me.” He pauses plating and looks at Alec as he remembers his mother. “She had me in the kitchen with her from a young age. She’s the reason I fell in love with food and cooking”

The finishing touch is on the raspberry tart is a sugar cage which covers the entire tart made of spun sugar. Magnus takes a deep breath and leans over the plate, focusing to the point of holding his breath as he places the cage. Out of the corner of his eyes, he notices Alec watching him. He stands, giving the other chef a look he’s hoping says ‘back off’ and leans back over the plate. Magnus feels Alec’s warm body leaning back over near his own and really tries his best to ignore it, but when he feels Alec’s warm breath against his neck Magnus loses focus and the sugar cage shatters in his hand, breaking all over the plate.

“Shit”

Magnus cleans the sugar shards off the plate and gently grabs another one, putting it on an empty plate.

“God, I need more space.” Magnus exclaims, taking his plates to the other side of the metal table, which he thinks is a good idea so the chef can’t come up behind him until he realizes they’re almost face to face.

“Why are you so mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you, Alexander,” he says decisively. He turns putting his desserts on the pass for the server waiting, “Raspberry tarts for table 4”

“You’re very mad,” Alec insists once the server leaves

“Look.” Magnus places his hands on the metal table and looks Alec in the eyes, ignoring the bright smile on the man’s face. “ Alec, this is my kitchen. I’ve worked really hard to get here and I’m not gonna let you take it away from me.”

“What makes you think I want to take it away?”

Magnus rolls his eyes at the chef and glares. “What else could you possibly want?”

Magnus leaves the table before Alec can reply.. He goes to his safe space, the walk in to cool off, kicking out a waitress practicing lines for an audition so he can be alone. He leans his back against the cool shelf and takes a few deep breaths, imagining himself smacking the smirk off Alec’s face like he really wishes he could do in real life. But someone would definitely fire Magnus. The walk in opens again and Magnus groans when he sees that it’s Alec. 

Alec walks in, letting the door slam shut behind him and immediately walks right into Magnus’s space. As he walks closer, Magnus stands up straighter against the shelf he’s leaning on.

“Look, I don’t need this job.I can work wherever I want. I’d like to work here because it’s an honour to cook with you, but I’d rather work somewhere I’m welcome. So if you want me to go, you just say the word.”

The walk in opens for a third time and it’s Raphael. “Want to tell me what’s going on in here?”

“Well?” 

Alec looks at Magnus for an answer, but Magnus is silent. He can admit the kitchen has run smoothly with him there, but Magnus doesn’t trust him. No one had ever thought it would be an honour to cook with him. Most people ran at the thought with his high standards and the strict way he ran his kitchen, but Alec, Alec insisted on being here.

Alec unties his apron and Raphael’s eyes widen in shock. “Wait a minute. Where are you going?”

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to find someone else,” He says handing the apron to Raphael then leaves the walk in.

“Magnus, what have you done?”

Magnus rolls his eyes, then pulls two more tarts from a cart in the fridge. “I didn’t do anything.”

Raphael follows Magnus out of the walk in. While Magnus goes back to his station to fix up desserts, Raphael continues after Alec. “Alec, please. We need you.”

Magnus rolls his eyes. They didn’t need him. They were more than okay before he showed up messing with his kitchen.

“Well, I’ll have to hear that from him.” Alec says, packing up his things from around the kitchen.

“It’s my restaurant!”

“It may be your restaurant, Raphael, but it’s his kitchen. Without Magnus, all this would just be a pile of hot metal and dirty dishes.” Alec stands with his arms crossed and looks at Magnus. “So, he decides.”

“Magnus.”

Magnus turns around and looks between Alec and his boss. From behind Alec he makes eye contact with a very pregnant Clary, with tongs in one hand and her hand on her stomach. She looks at him and makes ‘come on’ gesture at him and he sighs, knowing the redhead is right.

“Seems you’ve left me no choice.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Alec says, a smile appears on his face.

“Didn’t I just say that?” He bites

“I didn’t hear those words.”

Alec put Magnus in a corner and judging by the now smirk that covers the other chef’s face, he’s fully aware of it. The kitchen is silent and everyone has their eyes on him making Magnus feel small and embarrassed. A blush covers his cheek from the situation but also how Alec looks at him and he only hopes the heat of the kitchen covers it up or Clary won’t let him hear the end of it. Magnus wants to turn around and ignore him, go back into the walk in or even leave the kitchen altogether but he knows there’s no way around this so he sighs and looks Alec in the eyes.

“I want you to stay.”

“Love to. Thought you’d never ask.” He says with a wink. Alec takes back his apron that Raphael hands back to him and ties it around his waist. “By the way, you have ganache on your cheek”

Magnus quickly wipes his cheek and sighs when his hand comes back with a streak of ganache. He doesn’t want to think about how the ganache had been there or why not a person mention it to him figuring, it would only upset him more than he already was. 

Magnus arrives at his apartment much later than he means to. The babysitter from the agency is nowhere to be found, which means they had left Madzie alone for who knows how long now. Tomorrow he’d give the agency a piece of his mind, but for now, he had a niece to find.

“Madzie” He calls out.

Magnus finds his niece in her bedroom but instead of on her bed under the covers, sleeping, he finds her underneath her bed with Chairman curled at her side, purring. 

“Well, don’t you both look cozy under here?”

“It’s a fort Magnus!”

“I see that,” He says, noticing all the blankets and pillows she’d shoved underneath the bed. “Why don’t we get into the bed to sleep?”

Magnus helps Madzie out from underneath the bed and pulls his fluffy cat from underneath the bed. At first he protests with a meow but calms down, curling up beside Madzie on the bed again. “He’s really taken to you,” Magnus says with a small smile.

“I like cats, “ She says with a shrug. “I always wanted one but mom was allergic”

Magnus nods, remembering all the extra cleaning he’d have to do whenever Catarina was coming over.  

“Let’s get you to sleep,” he says with a kiss on her forehead. “You have school tomorrow”

Madzie nods with a yawn. “Will I have another babysitter tomorrow?”

After tonight, Magnus is going to cancel for tomorrow. “Actually, I thought you could come to the restaurant tomorrow instead of a sitter. How does that sound?” He asks “You can see the restaurant and see what I do so late into the night. Maybe have a nicer dinner”

Madzie nods slowly, her eyes closing from exhaustion. “That sounds nice”

Magnus tucks her in one more time and pats Chairman on the head before heading to his own bedroom.

The next day Magnus leaves during dinner prep, leaving Alec in his place despite Raphael’s protests.

“You can’t just leave, Magnus”

“I won’t be gone long,” He says continuing to the door, “Besides you have Alec, what does it matter if I’m gone for half an hour?” 

He lets the door slam behind him and walks to his car. Magnus picks his niece up from school, waiting at the entrance, squinting his eyes, looking for her face in the crowds of children piling out of the building. It’s Madzie who finds him, taking his hand in hers with a tired smile on her face. The moment she walks through the restaurant door, her eyes widen, taking the grand dining room in. 

“Wow” Magnus hears her gasp.

Magnus bends down to her level. “You like it?”

The girl nods “The lights look like crystals”

Madzie points to the large chandelier in the middle of the dining room. She wasn’t wrong; it was made of crystals and was quite the centrepiece of the restaurant, but according to the staff, but was a bitch to clean. He’d been told numerous times how you had to nearly take apart the light fixture, unhooking each individual strand of crystal to clean them properly before putting them all back on. It was tedious and Raphael would accept nothing less than perfection, forcing you to redo it until it was right. 

“And there’s plants on the wall”

Magnus follows his niece as she goes to the wall to get a closer look. The plant wall is a section of the black painted wall filled with greenery and multiple colourful plants, one of the few parts of the dining room that had any colour other than black. There’s moss, snake plants, and even some flowers growing out of it. When Raphael had it put in, he claimed it ‘purified the air’ along with some other benefits Magnus didn’t believe, but it was beautiful not that he’d ever tell his boss that.

“But Magnus, In my science class we learned that plants need sunlight to grow, but it’s dark in here, so how are they alive?”

“You see those three lights that shine on the wall?” He gestures towards the ceiling. Madzie’s eyes follow Magnus’s arm and she nods as she spots them. “They’re a special lightbulb that mimics the sun’s rays. Think of them like pretend suns, sweetpea”

Madzie nods, and Magnus hopes he’s eased her curiosity.

“But why is the restaurant so dark, Magnus? Do you not want people to see what’s right in front of them?

Another great question, he didn’t understand the dark colour scheme either.

“I don’t know, sweetpea, I only work here. I didn’t design it.” He stands, hoping to end the conversation. “Now come on, I have to get in the kitchen”

Magnus sets Madzie up in the far corner of the kitchen where they can still see one another, but she’s out of the way of any staff and not in dangerous of getting anything spilled on herself. She sits at the table with one of the extra dining chairs Magnus pulls from Raphael’s office and starts on her homework. She keeps to herself, but she does make sure to greet every person who walks by her and if they introduce themselves, so does she.

“Your niece is adorable Magnus, how old is Madzie again?” asks Clary 

One thing Magnus hadn’t prepared for was the bombardment of questions staff would have about her or the amount that would come into the kitchen specifically to meet her.

“She’s eight, and everyone in this restaurant thinks she’s adorable.” He says with a sigh as he chops carrots, “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought her. What if everyone is distracted?”

“So River’s age.” She says with a smile, “No, it’ll be fine when dinner starts. How is she adjusting? Have you gotten her to eat anything yet?”

Magnus pauses his chopping and looks at the redhead, launching into his attempts at making her eat the fishsticks, which she did enjoy a then meal after meal of food she’d either pick at or simply not want to eat. 

“I’ve tried everything. No matter what I make, she doesn’t eat it.”

“Why not try giving her some regular kid food?” Clary suggests, “She probably misses her mother’s cooking and I doubt Catarina cooked crab cakes with katsu curry sauce or a cod fillet with a poached egg and jersey royals.”

Magnus raises an eyebrow at her. “Have you been talking to my therapist?”

It’s Clary’s turn to roll her eyes at Magnus. “I’m just saying you’re overthinking it. Madzie wasn’t raised with this kind of food, so of course she won’t eat it.” She stirs the pot of sauce in front of her, thinking for a moment. “What about French dip sandwiches? I’m assuming you can make an incredible roast beef. Cook it rare, caramelize some onions, melt gruyere cheese on some buns and she can dip in the au jus. Kids love dipping things.”

French dip sandwiches. He could try that. What did he have to lose at this point?

Dinner prep goes by smoothly, Alec walks in and Magnus is sure to ignore him and continue with his work. Madzie finishes her homework, then busies herself with watching the chefs prep things and asking them many questions.

“What that?”“What does it go in?”“Does it taste good?”

“Madzie,” Magnus interrupts at one point. “I know you’re curious but Viola has a lot of work to get through”

“It’s okay, chef,” Viola says, looking at Magnus. “Hey Madzie, do you want to see something gross?”

Madzie nods excitedly, and the chef takes Madzie by the hand, pulling her into the freezer. It’s only moments later before he hears Madzie’s giggles and shrieks of delight from that direction. Madzie comes out of the freezer with a smile still on her face. She goes back to the table Magnus had set up for her earlier, but sits on top of it instead and watches the chefs with curiosity for the rest of their prep time.

When dinner service begins, Madzie only watches more intently. When Magnus brought her in tonight, he hadn’t anticipated her becoming so interested. Magnus takes note and wonders if maybe, like his mother had, he should bring Madzie into the kitchen. Perhaps helping to make and prepare a meal would excite her enough to eat.

“All right, two foie gras, one tartare, two bisque, and a goat cheese.”

Throughout dinner prep and now into service, Alec had notices Madzie watching with interest as the dishes come together. He thought she was the sweetest thing, asking so many questions, showing such a high level of interest in food at her age and given the chance, Alec would answer every question she could think of, even if it took them all day. Alec had heard all about Madzie, the death of her mother, adjusting to this new city and new life. It was more than anyone her age should have to go through, and he truly felt for her. He notices when it’s nearing seven o’clock that the young girl still hadn’t had something to eat, so without asking Magnus so he wouldn’t get told no. He makes dinner. 

Alec crosses the kitchen to the other steel table Madzie had moved to at one point to get a better look at the kitchen during service. He nods and smiles at her in greeting, going to the shelves behind and picking up a metal bowl which he sets beside Madzie and a bunch of basil. Alec begins picking the leaves off them and putting them in the metal bowl. When he notices he’s caught Madzie’s attention, he brings the bunch closer to her face.

“Breathe in.”

And she does, taking a deep inhale of the basil plant.

“It’s basilico, one of my favourite herbs”

Alec tears off a few stems and hands them to Madzie, and together they tear off the leaves in silence, placing them in the bowl. At one point, he notices Magnus watching them. Alec can’t read the chef’s expression, but that’s nothing unusual with him. Alec was never sure if Magnus was angry and ready to stab him or simply focusing on his job. When Magnus doesn’t immediately stomp over to them, he assumes that they’re alright. He continues handing Madzie more stems of basil until all the leaves are in the bowl.

“You know what we’re going to do with these?” Alec asks Madzie, holding up the stems.

“Throw them out?”

“You could, most people do. But these young basil stems actually taste like the leaves we picked. So we’re going to save them and add them to pestos, salads and sauces.”

“Are you making a pesto now?” She asks, her eyes wide with wonder.

“I’m afraid not Madzie,” Alec takes the bowl of basil leaves from the table “And I’m afraid that ends our food lesson for the day, I must get back to work before your uncle yells at me” Alec says it jokingly to Madzie but silently he doesn’t want to be yelled at or be on Magnus’s bad side.

“Bye Alec”

Alec heads back behind the line as Magnus leaves the kitchen to greet his biggest fans. As he watches the duck cook skin side down, he begins dinner. He grabs tomatoes, dicing them with garlic and the basil from earlier and grabbing the nice olive oil. About half an hour later, when the tomatoes have cooked down, he blends it using a hand blender until smooth and then adds the basil leaves, adding salt and peppers as he goes. Finally, he adds in his pasta, stirring it in the sauce and adding a generous amount of parmesan before pouring it into a bowl.

“Clary, finish the duck on table five? I gotta take a break.” 

“Yeah, sure.”

Alec walks around and sits on the steel table beside Madzie, twirling a forkful of the pasta and eating it. 

“Mmm, good.” He says to himself before taking another forkful of pasta. 

Alec notices Madzie looking between him and the bowl of pasta and he knows his plan is working, but he pretends not to notice her and looks straight ahead.

“Table 12’s getting a little antsy. Will it be up soon?”

Oh table 12, earlier they’d been passed a note from one customer saying they intended on proposing to their partner that night and wanted something special done with the dessert. Alec had completely forgotten. He puts the bowl of pasta in Madzie’s lap.

 “Hold this.”

Alec leaps back into the kitchen, taking the squeeze bottle filled with chocolate ganache and attempts to right ‘Will you marry me?’ as neatly as possible on their plate with a chocolate pistachio dome. Alec watches Madzie from the other side of his station as he works, and then, when she thinks Alec isn’t watching, she takes a small forkful of pasta into her mouth. And then a much larger second bite, slurping up the noodles, and spreading tomato sauce all over her face.

“Save some for me,” He smiles

Madzie smiles as she eats the pasta and Alec knows Madzie won’t save him a bite.

“You know,” Alec says as he jumps back into cooking, “In ancient Rome guys used to chew basil before the prom to get rid of bad breath.”

Madzie looks at Alec in wonder, continuing to shovel pasta into her mouth.  

“It’s true.”

It’s at that moment Magnus walks back through the kitchen doors. He grabs his apron he’d tossed aside before leaving and reties it around his waist. He looks up and notices with shock that Madzie is eating; he looks to Clary who shakes her head that it wasn’t her. Instead, she points her tongs at Alec’s back. For the first time, warmth fills Magnus’s chest when it comes to Alec. As if he knew someone was talking about him, Alec turns around and smiles a soft smile when he makes eye contact with Magnus. Magnus smiles a warm smile back at the chef, surprising Clary, who looks between them but also at himself. He mouths a thank you to Alec and he nods in response.

“They didn’t have proms in ancient Rome!”

“They didn’t? Are you sure? I thought they did.”

It’s late when Magnus finishes and all the chefs start head home. After the pasta was long gone and she got tired of watching, Madzie fell asleep on a couch in one of the back offices. Magnus picks up her bag, shoving her coat and mittens inside, then picks Madzie up from the couch, carrying her on his side. He turns around and pushes the kitchen door open with his back when he notices Alec standing there putting his own coat on. Magnus once again smiles at the man and whispers a goodnight to him.

“Goodnight, Magnus”

His tone is soft, and it warms Magnus’s chest, then his heart thuds in his chest as the man walks closer to him. He stops and pets Madzie’s head, whispering a goodnight to her as well before leaving through the other door, leaving Magnus standing alone, his heart beating in his ears.

The drive home is silent, leaving Magnus alone with his thoughts, and for the first time Magnus thinks maybe, just maybe, he and Alec could work together. 

Perhaps they’d make a good team.

Magnus’s alarm clock goes off disgusting early that morning. Originally he’d given the fish monger and produce merchant job to someone else, but with Madzie seeming to adjust Magnus decided he wanted that duty back. He showers, and dresses quickly and quietly so he doesn’t wake Madzie in hopes she’ll sleep in after her long night at the restaurant. But all Magnus’s hopes are shattered as he puts his coat and boots on.

“Where are you going?”

Madzie peers around the door frame, teddy bear in one hand and Chairman at her ankles.

“The pier,” He replies. “I order fish to the restaurant from the mongers down there and produce from the farmer’s market. Go back to sleep Madzie, it’s early”

“Can I come?” She asks 

Magnus agrees, of course, and together they go to the pier. Normally Magnus wouldn’t wander but with it being Madzie’s first time seeing anything like this, he slows his pace and watches as his niece’s eyes widen at the produce and all the fish. Magnus buys her breakfast from one farmer, a probably overpriced fruit salad and a muffin the farmer said his wife makes. While Madzie eats on a nearby bench, Magnus bargains with the fishmongers.“What you got, Steve?”

“Fresh bluefin.” He says, pointing to the fish, “Just came in like five minutes ago.”

Magnus shakes his head. He’d had bluefin on the menu too recently.

“I got baby mollusks over there.”

He shakes his head again. “What’s behind you there?”

“Swordfish.”

Swordfish, Magnus can’t remember the last time he’d put that on the menu. He thinks about the black garlic he knew was coming today. Garlic and ginger rubbed swordfish…and a fruit salsa on top, maybe a mango salsa?

“Yeah, I’m gonna take some of those. Have them delivered by noon.”

When the pair arrive back at Magnus’s apartment, he decides a nap would be good for them both as they still had a few hours before Madzie needed to be at school. But Magnus should’ve known better or at least set an alarm on his phone because the moment he closes his eyes, he falls into a deep sleep dreaming of hazel eyes and spicy cologne, only woken up by the ding of a text message. The moment Magnus realizes it’s 9 am, he’s suddenly awake and panicked.

“Madzie” Magnus shakes her shoulder, “Madzie, come on, we overslept. You’re gonna be late for school.” Unlike Magnus’s hurried pace, Madzie slowly stands up and stumbles to the front door. “Here are your boots, sweetpea.” Once Madzie is finally dressed with all her things, he opens the front doors and shoos her out, leading her down the stairs. “Come on. Let’s go, let’s go.”

Magnus easily breaks multiple traffic laws as he drives Madzie to school, but thanks to his somewhat reckless driving, she’s only half an hour late.

“Tell them it was my fault, okay?” He says as Madzie climbs out of the car, “Have a good day sweetpea,”

He waits until Madzie walks through the front door of the school before he speeds off again, this time to the restaurant. Running late with Madzie should have been a warning to Magnus that today wasn’t going to be a stellar day. Every delivery that was scheduled for that day was late, throwing Magnus’s schedule off. The wrong fish gets brought to the restaurant.

“I told you I wanted swordfish this morning, so why is it that I’ve just been given salmons!”

Then when their truffle guy, who Magnus thinks is super sketchy, comes by to sell them white truffles for $2200 a pound. Clary’s water decides it’s the perfect moment to break and his best friend is suddenly in labour. The salesperson suddenly panics at a coworker’s suggestion to call an ambulance heightening Magnus’s suspicion of the man, but Magnus declines and instead says he’ll bring her himself, leaving Alec in charge. The drive to the hospital is thankfully fast, with Magnus only breaking a few minor traffic laws despite Clary’s squawks of displeasure from the passenger seat.

“The doctor warned me she’d be early, I should have listened” Clary laughs “River was late, so I didn’t believe him,” She suddenly turns to Magnus with wide eyes “Jace, we have to call Jace! Magnus, give me your phone!”

“Let’s focus on getting you to the hospital biscuit and I’ll call him,”  Magnus squeezes his friend’s thigh in a comforting gesture, “I love you, but if you give birth in my car, I will never forgive you.”

Clary had met her husband, Jace, at the restaurant. Jace worked as a farmer, and his farm was one farm they got their produce from. Clary was new at the time, only working there for a month the first time she set her eyes on the blonde man. 

“It was love at first sight,” she’d say, which always made Magnus roll his eyes at her.

While Magnus didn’t believe in love at first sight, he did agree they were immediately attracted to one another. Clary suddenly wanted to help bring in deliveries, especially the produce deliveries, and Magnus often caught them speaking and flirting nervously with one another. After months and months of terrible flirting, Clary giggling at Jace’s terrible jokes and hopelessly pining Jace finally asked for Clary’s number and on a date, which of course Clary quickly agreed to. Their romance was a whirlwind marrying only eight months late.

“When you know, you know Magnus,” she’s said to him at a bridal boutique as they look at dresses. “Someday someone will come along who will tear down those walls you’ve built around your heart. And when that love comes back to you, you’ll do everything in your power to fight for it, because you’ll finally understand what I feel with Jace.”

Of course, Magnus didn’t believe her then, but a small part of him did secretly long for what they had. Jace was a good man who worshiped the ground his wife walked on, and Magnus knew he would do anything to make Clary happy. Magnus wanted that. He wanted someone to look at him the way Jace would look at Clary when she wasn’t paying attention. He wanted someone who loved him as is and wouldn’t try to mould him or change him into someone he wasn’t. He wanted someone to love and care for, cook their favourite meals and see the smile on their face when the plate was set in front of them. But he wasn’t sure if that was ever going to be in the cards for him.

As promised, after Magnus walks Clary into the hospital and he wheels her into her room where a nurse helps her into the bed, he goes outside for a moment and calls Jace.

“I can’t leave yet!” He panics into the phone. “Magnus, please stay with her until I get there. I don’t want her alone.”

And Magnus does. He stays by her side, helping her stand when she wants to walk around a bit and letting her squeeze his hand when she’s hit with a contraction. A few hours later, Jace rushes into the room, still in his work clothing, and leans over Clary’s bedside, giving her a gentle kiss.

“I’m Clary, I got here as fast as I could–”

Clary stops him with a finger to his lips. “You’re here now, that’s what counts…although I wouldn’t have minded if you’d changed from those dirt stained overalls.”

Jace blushes, looking at his dirty overalls. “You’re more important.”

Feeling awkward, Magnus quietly stands and attempts to leave the room without much noise. He shouldn’t be here, this is a special moment in the couple’s life. They didn’t need Magnus.”

“Magnus, where are you going?” Jace asks, noticing Magnus

“I should get back. I left Alexander in charge, so who knows what he’s up to? Besides, this is a private moment. I shouldn’t be here”

Clary reach her hand towards Magnus as if she could reach him from across the room. “I want you here, Magnus,” she looks at her husband, “We want you here to meet your goddaughter.”

God daughter?!

Magnus clears his throat, holding back the emotion in his chest and walks back into the room, taking back his original seat on the other side of Clary, taking her other hand in his.

“Well, let’s make a birthday biscuit.”

Clary does great. She squeezes the men’s hands throughout her contractions and apologizes to them and any nurse or doctor in the room when she curses. Many hours later, Jace and Clary’s daughter are born. They name her Rekha and she’s perfect. With all the excitement of the day, welcoming a new life into the world, holding his goddaughter Rekha and if that wasn’t enough, an exhausted Clary asks him something important.

“Magnus, Jace and I have been talking and we want to know if anything were to happen to us would you take care of Rekha and River?” Magnus’s eyes widen but Clary continues, “With Catarina’s death and Madzie it made us think..you don’t have to answer us now and I get it if you don’t want to you have Madzie—”

“Clary, of course I would.” He smiles down at his goddaughter as she yawns. “But nothing better happens to your mom and dad. I can’t lose another best friend.”

Magnus leaves the hospital that afternoon with a smile on his face, but it’s short-lived when he notices the time on the clock in his car. It’s 3:45 and Madzie’s school lets out a 3. With all everything going on, he’d completely lost track of time. Thankfully, the drive isn’t long and soon he’s turning the corner with the familiar school is in his view. Magnus quickly spots his niece sitting on the front steps of the school. He slams his car to a stop and throws open his door, not bothering to turn the vehicle off, and jogs towards her small figure.

“Oh, Madzie.” He coos, noticing her red cheeks from the cold, “I’m so sorry.”

“You forgot me.”

“It’s not what you think–”

“You forgot me!” Madzie yells again.

“Clary had her baby, I had to take her to the hospital–”

“But you still forgot me!”

 Magnus sighs in defeat. “Okay, I forgot you. And I’m sorry, come on let’s go home.”

Madzie says nothing, instead crossing her arms, looking away from Magnus.

“Madzie, come on, it’s freezing out here.” He says, losing his patience.

When Madzie still doesn’t move, Magnus crosses his own arms, “Madzie, move it!”

Madzie lets out a loud sigh but stands from the stairs with her arms crossed over her chest as she stomps towards Magnus’s car on the road. The car ride to Magnus’s apartment is silent and full of tension. Madzie had her body turn towards the window and stare out of it the entire ride. Up to the apartment, she walks ahead of him and waits impatiently at their door when she arrives first. The second the door opens, she kicks her shoes off, and throws her coat on the floor before stomping to her room and slamming the door shut with a bang.

“Madzie, I’m sorry. I totally blew it.” Magnus leans his forehead against her closed door. “I know I’m doing everything wrong, but I’m doing my best, okay?”

When Magnus hears nothing from the other side of the door, he decides to go in, regardless. Madzie is allowed to be upset with him. He did screw up, but there has to be a way he can make it up to her. He slowly opens the door and in front of him Madzie lays in her bed curled up with her back facing to the door and Chairman laying at her head on one of her pillows licking her head.

“Why don’t you think of something I can do to make it up to you, sweetpea?”

Madzie turns her head and to look at Magnus, “You mean like a wish?”

“Yeah.” Magnus sits on the edge of Madzie’s bed. “Yeah, you wish for something and I try to make it happen. And in return, you forgive me.”

“Can I save it for later?”

Magnus nods “Of course. I’m going to start dinner. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

Magnus pats her shoulder and stands from the bed to leave the room.

“Magnus,”

He stops, looking back to Madzie from the doorway.

“You’re not doing everything wrong.”

[burntotears]

Fanfic Origin Story

Tagged by @bekkachaos 💕

What was your first fandom (reading and/or writing)?

Popslash RPF - NSYNC

What was first story you ever wrote.

My main ship was Lance/Chris (Trickyfish), so it was most likely one for them. I wrote some Justin/Chris (Timbertrick) and Justin/Lance (Lamblove) too. I was 12 and everything I wrote was basically crack-fic or dark-fic where people were dying and shit. It was awful.

What's a piece of advice you would give your younger fic writing self?

Everything doesn't have to be devastating to be interesting. You can write something with a happy ending and it can still be interesting. But also, keep writing, because you'll get better.

What’s an early fandom interaction that stuck with you (be it a nice comment, a friend you made, a fic that got a lot of feedback)

Back in the Merlin, Legend of the Seeker, Lord of the Rings days I met this one Australian graphic artist who was super sweet and made a TON of stuff for me. She did all the banner work for us in the Merlin Slash Awards (which I ran), made us little banners when we participated in the fun little team contests for Disney, LotS, and LotR AND made me banners for my LiveJournal accounts. Just unbelievably kind and I am so sad that we fell out of touch.

The one amazing thing that really blew me away was the cover art she made me for my first multi-chapter long fic, Unsuitable, for the Merlin fandom. She's soooo talented and I still think about her.

Post a sentence or two from an older fic and a sentence or two from a newer one (if you want).

My first Sterek (and TW) fic, Be the Overflow

“A guy like you? That’s a load of bullshit and you know it. Erica said she had a crush on you for quite a while and you never even noticed her until she turned. For someone who knows what it feels like, Stiles, you sure are a huge fucking hypocrite. There are plenty of people who--” but Derek didn’t finish that sentence. Whatever it was he was about to say, he no longer wanted to say it.

“People who what? Who want to be my friend? Who want to laugh at my jokes but make out with the guy who’s hotter and a lot more mysterious? Someone more like Scott? Yeah, I know all about that, Derek, and I’d rather you didn’t call me a hypocrite before having all the facts, alright? How’s about we all just shut the hell up and stop talking about my non-existent love life because that would be really fucking swell right about now,” Stiles spat with a bit more venom than even he knew he possessed. He looked back down at the pipe and the rope and decided the task definitely needed his undivided attention now.

“You are completely full of it. You’re going to keep blaming other people for the fact that you can’t see the things that are right in front of your own goddamn face, so you know what? You deserve what you get, Stiles.” There was a hardness in Derek’s voice that Stiles couldn’t really place.

The Teen Malex AU, The Answer is Always "Okay."

Michael seemed better when Alex glanced up again. “Guerin… you wanna tell me what the fuck just happened?” Alex held up his wrist to indicate.

“I don’t - I don’t even know how to do that,” Michael said. He was afraid. Terrified, even. Alex couldn’t just see it on his face, though—it was something viscous seeping into his veins from inside Michael. He could feel it.

Alex stood up, moving the short distance across the shed. “Oh-okay, Guerin, you need to start talking. I know you’re freaked out or whatever, but so am I.”

Michael blinked and looked up at Alex as though he just realized he was there. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit.” Alex rolled his eyes. “Rationally, I understand that my wrist is fixed. I get that you did something. So what I’m sorta gonna need you to fill me in on is how the fuck that is.”

Tagging these lovely folks if they would like 💕

@portraitofemmy @haloud @jule1122 @im-the-punk-who @angrycowboy @beautifulcheat @thesquidkid @bydayornight

[spicywhenspeaking]

If I'm There: Chapter Twenty

you're stronger than me Nat, I'd be jumping on him like a freaking jack rabbit

read from part one here!

summary: Noah and Natalie met in high school and developed a relationship through their love of music and art. Falling in love, innocent and young, they think nothing can keep them apart. However, sometimes in the pursuit of your dreams the things we love the most get left behind.

this is a complete work of fiction, some characters while based on real people are totally made up. :)

word count: 2.4k edited by me ....soooo if you see something spelt wrong no you didn't.

taglist : @lma1986 @cookiesupplier @notingridslurkaccount @blackveilomens @thisbicc @thebadchic @jessitpwk @samanthasgone @laurpartyprogram @myownthoughts12

I walk Noah through the rest of the house, I show him some of the art I made that we have hanging and he looks closely at all of the family photos I have lining the walls. “Is that Maggie and your brother?” he asks in surprise.

“Haha um yeah, they got really close after I left.” I tell him and pick up the scattered clothes I find littered in the hallway. “And then he joined the marines and they stationed him overseas. To stay together they ended up eloping so she could be with hime when he was stationed. They have a little girl, she's five. Her and Erin are so cute together. They'll actually be here in a few days.” I can feel myself starting to ramble and I stop abruptly and smile awkwardly. Noah laughs softly, “You look different but you’re still the same Natty.” he remarks in a small voice.

“Jeeze, your brother could kick my ass before joining the army, can’t imagine what he’d do to me now.” I laugh to break the awkward stale tension and move to the outside of Erin's room. Her walls are Yellow and she has a pink bed with a princess canopy hanging over it.

Along with a bunch of toys, books and stuffed animals all over her desk and shelves. “She’s really into the Percy Jackson books, you know I never read them when I was a kid but they’re pretty good. She loves reading.” I say while I watch him taking everything in. On the floor of her room are several notebooks and sketchbooks open and sprawled out. “Wow, she's an artist. Like you” he says softly. “She also has quite the little voice on her. You should hear her, kids got range.” I say and move to grab what I came in for, Erins photo book.

We move back into the living room and sit side by side on the couch. I open the book and it starts with a picture of Erin as a baby along with her birth information sheet, detailing length, weight and other important facts for newborns. There are a lot of pictures in here, one of the firsts is me holding her after we got home from the hospital.

I look so young. He gently touches the edges of the photo and I see fresh tears gleam in the corner of his eyes. “Nat, I’m- I just can’t believe this.” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry I wasn't there.” he says again and I have to swallow the lump forming in my throat. “I know, Noah. I know, I wish things had been different. I should have tried harder.” I softly place my hand on his shoulder as I whisper out my words and he looks at me with a sad smile.

“This isn’t all on you Natty, I left. Gave up everything I loved to make this dream come true. I should have thought more about all I left behind.'' His voice is hoarse and I don't know if it's from singing just a few hours ago or all of the emotion that's behind his eyes right now.

Lost in his eyes again I feel like a teenage girl again. The girl that was so ridiculously in love with a boy, the boy that’s now a man sitting in front of her and in this moment they share it’s like the last ten years didn’t happen and slowly the distance between them disappears and they’re just a breath apart. Lips hovering about each other in a delicate balance of temptation. The clattering of the photo album falling off Noah's lap reels us both back into reality.

Shaking my head and sitting back further onto my seat I brush my hair back out of my face and grab my cup of water to adjust to our situation. He coughs awkwardly and I try to get focused on what we were doing. Kissing would be a horrible idea. After all of these years he’s still the most attractive man I’ve ever met. But, this confusing situation would only get even messier if we started something romantic again. That would be stupid. Erin still doesn't know about Noah andI have Kyle coming in a few days to worry about. Also, I don't really even know Noah anymore.

Can you still know someone after so long. Coughing to clear my throat and to disrupt the silence I offer an awkward smile as Noah leans down to collect the fallen book. We continue looking through the pages and I tell him about some of the important stages I have documented. “Oh her first birthday, we had it at the park, just me and Haylie, she has been with me through it all, the pregnancy and all of Erin's life.”

He nods silently as we flip through more pages. “Ah, this is after she got her tonsils out, she was so silly off the anesthesia, kept asking me when Pooh Bear was getting dropped off for daycare.” I laugh at the memory and Noah smiles sliding his hand over the page. A lot of the photos are of Erin and I and he looks at those very closely, they also show my change over the years. My hair gets darker and my skin becomeçs more and more covered in tattoos.

“A lots changed since we last saw each other.” he sighs offhandedly and turns the page again to a family photo of another birthday party, but this one while being a great picture includes Erin laughing over her Barbie cake and me, with the arms of my ex-boyfriend Gavin wrapped tightly around me. Talk about awkwardness.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Noah asks softly and I just about fall off of the sofa. “Oh no, um that guy, Gavin? We broke up a while ago. It was pretty mutual, we're just better off as friends.” I rush out in explanation and feel my neck start to sweat.

“Oh, yeah. My schedule is pretty crazy with touring and us trying to make this next album. It's hard to commit to a relationship.” There's a short pause before he finishes in a quick fluster, “that is of course, now with everything I will make time for Erin, I want to be as involved as you’ll allow. I want to be in her life, I want to know her. You as well” the last part comes out much quieter and I can’t help the redness that takes over my cheeks.

“There is a lot that we need to work out, I want you to be in her life too, I know she will want to know you. You said you would be done with the tour soon? What is your plan?” I ask, what does almost done with tour even mean if you tour all of the time? He continues flipping through the book while he answers. “Just a few more weeks and then we will have a long break through the new year, then we will head to Europe. How would you feel about us taking our break here?” he asks and I look around the house, wondering where he’s planning on having four full grown men stay for months. He notices my eyes scanning the house and he laughs, “Not here, Natty. I mean Austin. We will be working but I would have time to get to know Erin.” I let the breath I didn't know I was holding out.

“Oh, that sounds great Noah, and you’d be here for her birthday. It’s in September.” He flips back to the first page, “yeah the 17th? I’m gonna put it in my phone” as he says it he pulls out his phone and I see the blank front page aside from a few apps, “wow, you’re pretty boring Noah,” I joke and he laughs. “Oh yeah, I deleted everything a little while ago, It was just a lot haha, I mean seeing my face everywhere and reading everyone's psychoanalysis of me was too much.” Whatever I’m about to say dies on my tongue when Hailye bursts through the door with Folio’s arm tight around her for support.

“Ohhh Honeyyyy I’m hooome!!” she calls out and I laugh getting up from the couch to take her from Folio. “Honey, you're coming  home with another man? I’m shocked.” I take on the fake role of husband quickly as we begin are dumb little routine. “Well honey, you’re home with another man so I think It’s only fair.” she replies swaying in my arms and I work to steady her. “Thank you for getting her home safe, Foli, I appreciate it” I say to the man standing in my door.

“I’ll watch her anytime, she's a great gal,” he says and I can sense he’s being genuine. “She’s a maneater, but we love her.” I say to him as a slight warning. I love Haylie but she doesn’t stay held down for very long in relationships. Calls herself a lone wolf. Folio winks at me and nods to Noah, I’m assuming to gesture he will wait for him outside. “You’ll find that me and my friends work really hard to get the things we desire.” he says before exiting and heading down the front steps.

I turn to Noah whos waiting patiently on the couch, “just give me a second?” I ask and he nods while I help Haylie to her bed, quickly stripping her. I throw an oversized shirt on her and place her water bottle on her nightstand along with the bottle of ibuprofen she will definitely need in the morning.

Heading back out to the living space I sit next to Noah. “So yall leave tomorrow?” I ask and he shakes his head. “No, we have a few days off actually. Our next show is in three days.” I think on it for a moment before responding. “Okay well, Erin will be home tomorrow and I’ll tell her. I’ll see how she feels but maybe we can meet for lunch the next day before you leave?” A look of nervous excitement crosses his face and I almost want to cry again. “That sounds great Natty, here, put in your number so we can plan things later.”

He hands me his phone and I quickly send myself a text from his phone and just like that we're back in each other’s lives. “I know I can’t make up for these last ten years but I want to try. And Natty. I know that you and I-” I cut him off.

“I think all you and I need to worry about is being the best people for Erin we can be, you and I? I don’t know if that's anything we need to dive into right now.” His jaw tightens slightly but he nods in understanding. “So I’ll reach out tomorrow to see how it goes?” He stands and I follow him to the door. “Okay, I will let you know.”

Before reaching for the door knob Noah turns quickly and wraps me in a surprising hug. “I won’t let you down Natty, not this time.” he says and I barely have time to react before he lets me go and says goodbye and exits. I lock up and rest my head against the cool metal door. “What the fuck.” 

Noah POV

My mind is whirling, here I thought Natty and I were going to talk and after the concert she was going to want to talk about life. Just how much we’ve both changed and how our lives are so different. I thought life was bringing me the miracle of a second chance. I guess in a sense it did, but in a way I never expected. A kid. A child. A daughter.

I have a daughter. “I have a daughter.” I say out loud, and I think it’s the first thing I’ve said since Folio and I got back to the hotel. It’s late and we’re all exhausted but we all gathered in Jolly and Folio’s room. Folio spits his drinks out and coughs, “the fuck?” Jolly shares an equal look of surprise and Nicholas looks like his shoulders sag with what I think is relief. I’ll definitely ask him about that later. “You got someone pregnant? Damn. That could seriously mess up your chances with Miss Natalie," Folio says and I laugh at the irony, as does Nicholas which solidifies my curiosity about him already knowing.

That doesn't even surprise me and I just hope he hasn't known longer than we’ve been here or we will have bigger problems. “Well actually. Natalie is her mother. She’s ten.” I tell them and It’s like saying it outloud makes it so much more real.

“She was pregnant after I left her and just never managed to get to me. She just told me, tonight.” Jolly is the next to ask questions.

“She just never told you? How do you feel about that?” I know he’s considering my feelings but I don’t want to set it up that she intentionally kept me away from my child.

“Well at first when she told me I was pissed and then we just talked about it all. She explained herself and there were a lot of things that I have to accept. She felt abandoned and I did leave her. She tried to tell me and fucking Alex stuck her nose in it and then Kevin said some fucked up shit. It’s not at all what I wanted my life to be with Nat, but, this is happening.” I stand up and move to  grab a sparkling water from the mini fridge.

“Do you still want a life with her?” Nicholas finally speaks up. “I don’t know if I’ll ever fully move on from her, she was the first girl I ever truly loved. But, she doesn't want anything like that with me, especially now. She said all she wants is for us to be there for Erin. So that's what I’ll do.” Folio smiles and grabs me into a crushing hug. “Congratulations Daddy!” he calls out and the other guys laugh.

“So does win baby momma's heart back start now? Or…” Folio asks and I roll my eyes and wrap my arm around his head pulling him into a headlock to ruffle his hair.

“Why don’t we start with trying to get my daughter that probably thinks I abandoned her to like me and then I can start to think about trying to win the love of my life back?”

thank you for reading besties!!

next upload won't be for about a week! working on some other wips an building out the outline for future chapter! love youuuuuu :)

next chapter ->

[s3899602]

Blog #10 - Week 10

Wednesday

Upside Down People

Today Mai Han and I showed Sara and Helen our progress in the Capitol. They thought the colours I chose worked well, I thought they fit with the colours in the video so that was a relief that they thought so too. Sara and Helen said the colours that I used were fantastic even though the purple on the ceiling was a little mistake, so that was extremely lucky. 

Mai Han and I will also be working on the Dragon Tree Story scene, which is a low flickering candlelight. This should be pretty simple, I have already created a few different states already which I didn’t show Sara in the space but showed her after and she thought they were good. I think it would be best to avoid the arch throughout the whole scene and just focus on the walls. I’ll see how I go with improving what I have so far.

Thursday

Kingdom Dance 

I’m not sure that I liked it when it played in the Capitol and I’m not sure if it was actually bad or if I was just imposter syndrome and I wasn’t watching it right. I was really excited to see it in space so I don’t know why I wouldn’t think it was good if it was so I’m confused. Darrin and Nik didn’t seem to dislike it (apart from the music and a few colour choices). I’m going to have a look over it this week to see if there’s anything to change. I recorded another work in the capitol that I thought was exhilarating, they used a lot of techniques that I hadn’t thought of before so I will watch that again and see if anything inspires me to change what I already have. 

Jo’s Project 

Light’s Project 

Light and I had a long chat about his project and the kind of feeling he wants the sound to evoke and what he wants the sound to highlight in the video. We decided that I can just go crazy and do what I want with the sound which, admittedly, I am slightly afraid of, but Light has given me a lot of direction and has sent me a lot of inspiration from games and movies that he thinks I can draw my own inspiration from. We have very similar tastes when it comes to sci-fi movies so that’s a relief because I know I can make something that not only will fit the video, but that he will enjoy. 

We had a talk about surreal and how Light’s other project is now very Surreal and we could chage up the word in this project. We settled on uncanny, but depending on how the sound design goes, Light says I can change it again if need be. I think with the visuals we probably can’t go very far from surreal or uncanny because the stop-motion AI is so out-there that no matter what the audio is, the video would still have surreal elements. We were also talking about movies and both thought the soundtrack to Arrival (2016) was spectacular and really fits the eerie, uncanny feeling that we are going for. There’s also Coraline and a few other movies that fit the essence of the video so I will have a deeper look at all of them and see what ideas emerge. 

I had a listen to the Arrival soundtrack and really liked Sapir Whorf https://youtu.be/m87uapjnvKU?si=p4T4K9-K6JmnFtLf and Transmutation at a Distance https://youtu.be/swD1eqFSdYQ?si=AvKczhmvViMRgs0x because they both have a very otherworldly ethereal sort of feel to them which is what Light really wants the audience to feel. I love the use of vocals throughout the soundtrack as well. The whole soundtrack is honestly genius. Another great track was One of Twelve, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8adiipvZTRg&list=PLff_8M2LCnlCP3deJhXdYJCxlqCIJjItL&index=18 I really loved the use of (what I’m pretty sure was) distorted string instruments to create a sense of realisation and a heightened sense of danger. 

Research

https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/s/surrealism

Surreal artwork is about artists finding ‘magic and strange beauty in the unexpected and the uncanny’ 

As we settled on the work Uncanny, I thought I would do some research on surreal and uncanny. They’re have very similar meanings and sometimes used synonymously. Something uncanny is strange and unexpected, and surreal artwork is the celebration of that. AI is something that is widely considered to be ‘uncanny’ because it’s new and is not something we have seen before. Especially when talking to chat AI’s, it can feel as if you’re talking to a real human being and that can be jarring for a lot of people. What Light is doing with the AI generated images is quite uncanny and surreal already so so far it hasn’t been difficult trying to match that feeling. 

[seal-writes-stuff]

My Muse

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: F!Reader, pining with a capital P, mentions of arranged marriage and period-accurate misogyny, mostly fluff with a dash of angst

Summary: When Katherine Lester meets you, she becomes a part of your art and your life faster than either of you could’ve imagined.

A/N: Hello everyone! Treading on a bit of new territory here since I haven’t seen any fics for “Lady Macbeth” (Florence is sooo good in it though). Please tell me if you’d like a part 2 because… Let’s say I have ideas. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Katherine's thoughts are interrupted when she notices you.

The days got colder with summer coming closer to an end, but that never bothered her. These secret walks quickly became the only breath of fresh air in Katherine’s life - after the wedding, after she arrived in that dreary house. They’ve always reminded her that she is still young, still alive, still lives in the world filled with beauty and peace. The wind rustling her hair, the sun kissing her skin, the smell of rain and fresh flowers enveloping her…

In these moments, Katherine’s worries left her, if only for a little while. She was free and she was happy. What’s more important, these moments have always given her an opportunity to be away from her husband’s control, to daydream.

However, your presence brought her back to reality.

The same can’t be said about you. You’re sitting in front of an unfinished painting, staring off into the distance. As if you’re trying to find some kind of answer in the dark woods on the horizon, some kind of key. A palette you’re holding has tilted, staining your hands, your dress and a woolen shawl wrapped around your shoulders – you don’t seem to care. You’re far, far away, lost in your own little world.

Katherine stands still behind you – barely breathing, mesmerized. She knows she should say something, or maybe she should just leave altogether, letting you be, but she can’t. The sudden feeling swirling in her chest is overpowering. She wants to know more.

She wants to know what you’re working on. She wants to know what about your work makes you frown. She wants to know what’s on your mind.

She wants…

Finally, some subtle shift in the air alerts you to her presence. You jump up and drop the palette, your eyes wide.

“Oh!” you steady the canvas, trying to prevent it from falling over as well. “Sorry, I didn’t see-”

“No, don’t apologize! I should be sorry,” Katherine’s face heats up, like she’s been caught in an act of... What? “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You aren’t interrupting anything,” you settle back, inviting her to join you with a friendly gesture. “Come here. Maybe you’ll help me figure out what I’m doing wrong here.”

You don’t have to ask twice. For a second, Katherine’s overwhelmed; your warmth, the smell of the oil paint mixed with your perfume, the way your fingers hold the brush … She wants to remember it all. She wants to carry it around like a lover’s picture hidden in a golden locket.

Yet she can’t. She must compose herself, Katherine thinks, she must pretend. After all, it’s all she’s been doing lately.

“I must warn you, I’m not an artist…”

“Neither am I, apparently,” you bury your head in your hands with a groan. “Any decent artist would’ve known how to fix this thing by now.”

“You’re hard on yourself. I think it’s beautiful.”

You pause, looking at her intently. You take her in – all of her, uninterrupted.

“Ah,” you look away hastly, as if forced by the rules of decorum. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“It’s the truth.”

You hum, staring at the canvas again. This time, however, you aren’t as engrossed by your work as you were mere minutes ago.

“I didn’t quite catch your name, Lady..?”

“Just Katherine, please.”

“Katherine…” you roll her name in your mouth, as if you’re tasting it. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

Y/N, then... You don’t look at her, yet your eyes shine with some complex emotion, which Katherine can’t quite describe.

“Tell me, would you be offended if I kept working while we talk? I know it’s terribly rude, but-”

“Oh, of course not! Do as you please. I don’t mind at all.”

“How lovely,” you pick up the brush, adding a few broad strokes. “Again, I apologize. Believe me, if it was up to me, I’d much rather look at you.”

For once, Katherine is glad you’re looking away. She doesn’t think she could hide her blush if she tried.

Quick, she must change the subject somehow. If anything, she must hear you talk.

“Do you come here often?”

“From time to time,” you narrow your eyes in concentration. “The landscapes aren’t among my… Stronger suits, as you might’ve noticed.”

“Trust me, I don’t see what you’re seeing.”

“You flatter me. I can copy the nature, I suppose, but it lacks the heart. It lacks…”

All of a sudden, your eyes widen in realization.

“Would you pose for me, Katherine?”

“Wh… Me?”

“I won’t show your face, I promise, just your back. A lady with dark copper hair, looking off into the distance...”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not dressed for a-”

“No-no-no, you are, your dress is perfect!  Your dress, your eyes… They have such rich, warm colors! It’s like you’re a part of the scenery.”

As the last words leave your lips, you cover your face in shame.

“Oh my God, I… Forgive me, please. What am I even saying? Part of the scenery?!”

“It’s alright!” Katherine laughs as you peek at her through your fingers. “It’s… Rather sweet, actually. Might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“You must love these places, then.”

“As much as I can. You see, my house feels…”

She pauses to find the right word, just in time to catch your discreet glance. Your face remains neutral, yet your eyes a full of quiet compassion.

You finish her sentence before she does.

“Suffocating?”

Katherine’s breath hitches in her throat. How do you know? Do you feel the same?

“…Yes. Exactly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. And the fields aren’t?”

“Aren’t…?”

“Suffocating.”

“Oh, not at all. They make me feel… Like I belong. Like I’m meant to be here.”

For the first time in a long while, Katherine is sincere – she’s giddy and light. She’s rewarded with a big smile from you in response, a smile that makes it impossible for her to refuse you. Katherine leaves your side to settle in front of the canvas.

“Should I turn around?”

“Oh, no, it’s perfect! Please, sit like you’re sitting now.”

Both of you are quiet. You’re lost in your work, and so is she, in a way. Most of the time, the silence Katherine found herself in weighted heavy on her: just like her marriage, just like the rest of her new life.

This silence is soft, inviting. It makes her comfortable. It makes her feel at home.

She’s not sure how much time has passed by the time you speak up.

“Do you live nearby?”

“I do,” she points in the vague direction of her house. “Well, my husband and I. His father, too.”

“I see,” there’s a hint of sadness in your words, but it disappears before Katherine can even note it properly. “Who’s the lucky gentleman, might I ask?”

Gentleman. Katherine closes her eyes, trying to keep her agony at bay.

“It’s okay, Katherine, I was just wondering. If you don’t want to-”

“Mr. Lester.”

“Lester?!”

You blink, realizing what you’ve just said, how you’ve said it. You look down, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t…”

“No, it’s fine. I…I see what you mean.”

You give her a long look. Katherine assumes you’re pitying her at first, but realizes that she’s wrong almost immediately. No, that’s not it, she thinks, your gaze is filled something else. Something she recognizes only because she knows it so well.

It’s filled with longing.

“Oh,” you shrug. “Love changes people. Perhaps…”

You don’t finish the sentence. Katherine knows that you don’t believe in it – and that, unlike her, you can’t pretend. Still, you’ve tried to comfort her, which is a comfort in itself.

“What about you, Y/N? Are you married?”

“Oh, no,” you laugh, almost relieved. “No husband, no children, just my paintings. A disgrace to my family’s name all around.”

“I’m sure you aren’t. You’re so talented.”

And sweet, so very sweet.

“My parents would disagree, unfortunately.”

“They’re wrong, then.”

The harshness of her words surprises you; it surprises even Katherine herself. You open your mouth to reply…

Just in time to be interrupted by the roaring thunder in the distance.

“That’s not good,” you frown before reaching out to Katherine, helping her get up. “We must go. The storm is coming.”

“Right... Can I see the painting when it’s done?”

“Of course. I’ll send it to your house.”

“How much?”

You pause, looking at her in surprise.

“Huh?”

“For your work. How much does it cost?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“Please,” Katherine grabs your hands, earning a soft gasp from you. “My husband has more money than I could ever spend. I want it. Just name the price.”

You don’t respond, lowering your gaze to look your joined hands. Your touch is gentle; as if she’s the most precious work of art you’ve ever held.

Katherine swallows, just as the fluttering in her stomach threatens to become unbearable. You’ve met mere hours ago. Truth is, you don’t know her and she doesn’t know you – yet it feels like she does, like you’ve been close your whole lives. If everything she’s been through were meant to lead to this moment, Katherine thinks, she’d do it all again.

“Well,” you run your thumb over her knuckles, your voice barely above a whisper. “If you insist… I’ll think about it. Not everything can be measured in money, after all.”

A gust of wind sweeps your both. Katherine shivers, which snaps you out of your thoughts immediately.

“Oh, you must be freezing!” you take the shawl off of your shoulders and wrap it around Katherine’s frame. “Here. Don’t mind the paint stains.”

“I’m thick-skinned. You don’t have to-”

“Please. I’d never believe that.”

Katherine’s face heats up; her skin burns under your touch. Before she can answer, though, you’re already running off, trying to keep all of your art supplies in place.

“Wait! What about you?”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry!” you shout, fixing your hair. “Just keep it ‘till we meet again! Will we meet again, Katherine?”

“I… Yes, o-of course!”

Happy with her answer, you wave Katherine goodbye, leaving her alone in the field. The sky is dark above her head, yet she barely notices it. She wraps herself in soft fabric, taking a deep breath.

Of course.