#and like the whole tube of the song is quite fun and light-hearted

[thormanick]

Sudden thought: Phos’s story could go very well with Taylor Swift’s “Anti-Hero”. Hear me out,

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Happy Sunday, swifties in my phone ❤️❤️🫶🏽 Last week we all had to say 'Goodbye' to the Eras Tour. What remains are the memories. So (if you want to share) what was the best Eras Tour moment  for you personally? Did you go to a concert? Win the Mastermind game? Had a special moment during a live stream? It can be anything. For me it was my eleven-year-old daughter completely losing her mind during the 1989 set (bouncing, dancing, singing her heart out, being so happy). She had been ill with a high temperature the whole week before the concert and she almost couldn't go, so it was special to see her smile again. I hope the person who reads this has a wonderful day (yes, you 🫵❤️)  Jessi 

Hi! Obviously I missed this yesterday (can you tell I don’t generally check my inbox) and what an interesting question!

I did go to a couple of shows and had so many wonderful memories. My first (and initially only) show was in the pit, and even though I was surrounded by people much taller than me, I couldn’t believe Taylor was right in front of me. Like, Blondie whose music was the soundtrack to so many memories, whose music got me through so many rough times and brought me so much joy, who inspired me to start a whole blog just talking about her and her music, was just singing in front of my face. What?! What do you MEAN the girl who sang “Picture To Burn” my friend and I used to blast in her first car, the girl who sang “Clean” I used to play on repeat driving home from said friend’s own apartment across town in *my* car years later, the girl who wrote the album I blasted in my car in 2019 to get through a difficult work situation, who wrote the albums that got me through the darkness of lockdown, what do you mean THAT girl is real and right there?! I look back at all the pictures I took at that show, even from my iPhone, and as someone who also loves concert photography, it just makes it feel so, so special. It was a trip of a lifetime. (I’ve got some other not-great memories but they’ve actually turned into funny-later-on stories in some ways lol.)

I then had the chance to go again in London thanks to my lovely friend and some incredible luck and I cannot explain the absolute awe I felt when I got off the tube and walked up to Wembley Stadium. The way it’s infamous and has so much history as a venue, and then to see how absolutely all out it went for Taylor and Eras? It was incredible. The whole show was incredible, obviously, but I have to say the surprise song sections were on another level. One memory is Taylor giving her “I never do the same thing twice” speech, only for her to play a song I heard at my first show, which made me laugh… and then when she went to the piano, she played a song my friend heard at HER previous show and we were cracking up because WHAT ARE THE ODDS. We shared quite the laugh about that! Also, the way the crowd screamed when Ed came out, and how we were all gagged at their medley. I looooooooooooved her cover of “Thinking Out Loud”! Also, getting to hear London Boy IN London and with so much joy, and Dear John which is one of my favourites off Speak Now. The way my mind clocked what was happening like “NOOOOOOOO SHE ISN’T SERIOUSLY” when she started playing the opening guitar strums on night 3 only for her TO ACTUALLY DO IT and play IDSB finally! Then the crowd doing the “ratatatas” was really fun. And then when she did the My Boy/Coney Island mashup and my third eye opened about both those songs sitting in the rafters in that stadium.

And then there are the other things. The way the sunlight hit the stadium during Paramore one night like perfect golden hour and I wish I had my camera to capture it in a way I’ll never be able to describe except lovely. Sitting in back of the nosebleeds, the way Taylor’s grandmother’s voice felt like an echo or a ghost weaving through the rafters during Marjorie. The way the lights at the top of the stadium synchronized to the sets. Sitting in the obstructed section not expecting much, but getting to see the backing singers and band hyping the crowd up before the show, seeing the dancers get onto the stage, seeing the infamous cleaning cart and getting a glimpse of Taylor taking her place, witnessing a frenzied quick change with just about six pairs of arms flailing behind the curtain, and seeing Taylor leave the stage at the end. London is my favourite city and has been since the first time I’d been there in university, so to see my favourite artist in my favourite city with a good friend I hadn’t seen in a decade (!!!), and to feel safe doing so, was such an incredible gift. There was so much joy and camaraderie and it was just such a peak experience in my life, even outside of the concerts.

I will say that one livestream that stood out was the night she did either ivy or evermore for the first time, because I wasn’t listening since I was at a friend’s sister’s engagement party and had to find out checking on my phone that I had one of the biggest losses of tour… Also I remember how nuts the dash was the day Travis snuck on stage, so that was a hoot lol. I had it on in the background while I was working, and didn’t think much of hearing people screaming, until I refreshed my dash a few minutes later and saw WHY people had been screaming and then I had to wait for the replay lol. Other memories are that said friend and I live on different continents so depending on whatever leg the tour was on, one of us would wake up the other with an onslaught of text messages about what had just happened on the show if we were watching lol.

Your daughter is so real for loving the 1989 set because IT IS THE BEST!!!! IT IS PURE JOY AND FUN AND BOPS!!!!!! 1989 my beloved!!!!! It goes so freaking hard and was one of my favourite parts of experiencing the show. I’m so glad your daughter was well enough to go to her show and experience it in all its glory. I’m glad you got to share that with your daughter and make your own memories together. ❤️ Hope you have a wonderful week too!!!!

[moonyandsaturn]

Seven

yet another dorlene oneshot based off of my favorite song on folklore <3 its also on my here on my ao3

“Hello.”

Dorcas turned around from her spot to see who might be talking to her. Summer break was coming to a close shortly and she was determined to spend it away from her disastrous family. Family as in her new baby brother who snagged all the attention.

Dorcas truly didn't understand it. Here she was the first born 11 year old daughter. Smart, bright, and beautiful, now being overthrown by a baby who cried at absurd times like three in the morning. So here she was in the nearby forest taking time to herself.

Her family lived in a small community. Her backyard was surrounded by a rain-rusted fence that was basically falling apart. Behind that was an empty and barren land, the most interesting thing she found there was a rolly polly that she gave the wonderful name of George. If you kept walking a little you would come to a small crowd of trees that ran for maybe 4 miles. It's there where a little creek ran. The last time Dorcas visited, there was a rickety swing tied with old rope to a tree branch. If you swung high enough, Dorcas was sure you could swing right across the creek. She thought about it but left the thought behind seeing how it wasn’t her swing.

“Hello? Are you deaf? That's cool, I’ve never met a deaf person before.”

Dorcas finally turned around to see a girl around her age sitting right on that swing. It must be hers, Dorcas thought.

“I’m not deaf.” She started and then continued with curiosity. “Is that your swing?”

“No. Found it here.” The blonde replied. Dorcas could guess that she was a bit shorter than herself. She had shoulder cut dirty blonde hair but not dirty blonde as in a light brown. It was quite literally dirty. Dorcas had to resist the urge to dust the dirt out of her hair. She wore long jean shorts that looked much too big for her body and an even bigger t-shirt that was in a pretty purple color. Her cheeks were splattered with freckles. Actually, her whole body was covered in freckles. Her face was sort of pinkish, it looked like she had been running but somehow it complemented her dark blue eyes that were overlapped in the middle corner. Dorcas’ eyes didn't do that, hers were simply black as was her braided hair.

“Well, why are you sitting on it if it's not yours?”

“Why not? No one else is here to tell on me.” She held her head high. “Are you gonna tell on me?”

“I don't even know you. How would I do that?” Dorcas responded.

The girl jumped off of the swing and walked over. “That's unfortunate, I’m fun to know.” Closer now, Dorcas could hear her lisp caused by braces. She went on. “I’m Marlene.”

“I’m Dorcas.”

“That's a weird name.” Marlene stated plainly.

“It was my grandmum’s name. And Marlene isn't such a pretty name, you know.”

“You’re not very nice, grandmum.” Marlene pouted.

Dorcas wanted to roll her eyes but knew if her mum was here to see her do that she’d get a spanking so instead she changed the subject. “Aren't you actually gonna swing on that.” She pointed to the swing. “You were just sitting on it.”

“No.” Marlene answered plutantly and then her face perked up. “Are you?”

“No.”

They didn't talk for a minute but for some reason Dorcas didn’t feel the need to leave.

“You should.”

“If you're not swinging on it, why should I?”

“Because I’m scared of falling into the water,” Marlene told her. “Are you scared of falling into the water?”

“No.”

“Then go swing on it!”

“... Fine.”

Marlene smiled as if this was her biggest victory ever.

Dorcs held on to the ropes on either side of her body tightly. She bent her neck forward to see how far the creek was from her. She planted her feet behind the swing and pushed herself forward.

“Go higher!” Marlene cheered.

“Shove off, will you?” Dorcas shouted back.

1 foot high.

The swing fell backwards again and Dorcas caught the ground and pushed off, surely kicking some dirt into Marlene's face. Or maybe not because Dorcas couldn't hear a reaction from her.

2 feet high.

At her highest now she was face to face with the little whole in the tree across the creek. She could feel her braids bounce against her back. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, she could hear the beads at the end of her braids clank together melodiously.

3 feet high.

“Hey!” Dorcas laughed at Marlene’s yelp after getting dirt in her eyes. She went to sit crossed legged next to the swing instead of behind it. Dorcas could feel that she was rising to an altitude that was a little shorter than her own height. She was nearing the edge of the river but wasn't worried about it.

4 feet high.

The sun broke through the leaves of the other trees. Dorcas squeezed her eyes together to block it out. It wasn't all that efficient cause when they were closed she could see the vibrant orange color searing into her eyelids. It was just her and the fading sky now.

5 feet high.

Dorcas could see Marlene resting her cheek and the deep shadows caressing her features and the sun searing its golden sheen onto everything from her dirty hair, the wrinkled purple shirt, and the shorts that were now also covered in dirt from sitting on the bare ground. Dorcas wondered if she looked half as good as she fell back to the ground.

6 feet high.

The cool air was nice but the creek threatened her with its seemingly calm presence. At her peak she was exactly above it. It was shallow with many crooked and jagged rockets on the edges. She could see the sun glittering its surface. The water was so clear that she could see all the little pebbles and coins at the bottom.

7 feet high.

“That's my limit.” Dorcas announced as she was having some trouble stopping the darn swing. It kept going back and forth and she couldnt dig her heels enough to stop it. Marlene jumped up and grabbed one of the ropes to steady and halt it.

Dorcas slowly got up. They didn't say anything to each other at first.

“I probably got to go home.” Marlene said, her head hung as if it was a shameful thing to say.

“That's okay.” Dorcas clearly didn't know what to say. “Where do you live?”

“Clairmont Road.”

“Well, that's much too far!”

“Only a mile or two in that way,” She pointed West.

“I know but it's gonna be dark soon.”

“Yeah but my dads gonna want me home to wash the dishes.” Dorcas could have sworn that Marlene would say he’d want her home for dinner but didn’t dwell on it.

“My mum makes good homemade tomato soup. We got fresh tomatoes in our front yard. Grew them ourselves. You wanna come with me?”

Marlene didn't look at her. “Maybe.”

“Up to you,” Dorcas shrugged, she decided it was about time for her to go home as well and started walking North.

Marlene jogged up to her quickly as if it was a natural reflex. “I’ll walk you there.” She said, “Then I’ll go home.”

“Okay,” Dorcas turned her head and smiled as she got one in return.

It was nine in the evening (the longest her mum has let her stay up) when Marlene left to go back to her home. And that was only after a nice bowl of tomato soup and sweet tea that Dorcas’ dad had gotten at the store that day. Marlene made Dorcas promise not to tell her dad that she stayed with them that evening. Dorcas even went ahead and crossed her heart. Her dad seemed not so great or that's what her mum said when she overheard her talking to her dad about it that next morning.

On September first, Dorcas was loaded onto a train with other 11 year olds to go to her new school. Dad told her that he had saved up for it just for her so she could get the best education out there. Dorcas promised that she’d do her very best. She left crying quietly after a kiss from both parents.

The next summer, Dorcas didn’t meet Marlene again. She was hoping to tell her all the new things she learned at boarding school and how she had turned 12 and according to her teacher that means she's a big kid now. Dorcas wanted to tell her about the weird tube thing she looked through on the school's roof in which she was able to see all the way to the Moon and to Saturn.

Two summers after that Dorcas walked by Clairmont Road on her way to her boarding school friend’s house. She could hear screaming from a large black house. One voice was a gruff one that must have belonged to an adult. She also heard a woman shriek. It gave her goosebumps on her arms. The muffled voice of someone smaller was heard after that. She couldn't tell what they said because of the strong lisp they had. When she heard both the woman and the smaller person scream was when she ran out. She swore that she’d never go past Clairmont Road again. It was clearly haunted.

Her friend from school had an annoying older sister. Though Dorcas couldn't blame her. She’d be annoying if her name was Petunia too. Lily on the other hand offered to help with her summer reading homework. Dorcas also got to meet Lily’s friend, Remus, who was quite nice even though he was quiet. She sort of felt bad for making fun of his name now and constantly calling him Wolf-Wolf.

Right before Christmas break in her fourth year Dorcas had her first kiss. It was quite awkward actually. She had no clue why they were standing in the middle of the hallway while having it at each other's lips. While that wasn’t what she wanted from her (hopefully) first romance, it told her what she needed to know. She clearly liked girls. And not always like a friend. She didn't know whether it was just girls or if it was any gender but she thought that when she finds the perfect person she won't need to worry about any of that.

In her fifth year Remus transferred over and somehow became friends with James’ group. James was the guy that had been pining after Lily since second year. Lily constantly talked about how annoying he is but Mary told her that she caught Lily staring at James while he was at football practice. Mary, Emmaline, Remus, Sirius, Peter, and herself all made a bet about when the two would get together. On the other hand Sirius seemed quite taken with Remus who was completely oblivious. It was hilarious sometimes. Who needs the telly when you have dumbass friends like these, right?

The summer before their seventh year reality hit Dorcas so suddenly. Her childhood would be over so soon. She was going to be 18 in December. Luckily the land, that was now filled with wild weeds, behind her house was a wonderful place to scream at the world. She screamed for her childhood friends. She screamed for her parents who were growing older and her brother who just turned seven years old in July. She screamed for no reason at all because there was a pent up force of want in her that she just couldn't name. Like someone's face that she couldn't recall.

James and Lily were caught in the middle of a fiery snogging session behind the greenhouses after the Christmas break. Dorcas owed Emmaline, Peter, and Mary ten dollars that night. They graduated on the 4th of June of 1978. The picture of them all in their blue gowns fit perfectly in her wallet. Mary insisted on piggy-backing on Dorcas for the picture, Dorcas wasn't so sure Mary would ever grow up. She envied her slightly because of that. Lily was resting her head on James’ shoulder. Peter and Emmaline were making finger guns at the camera with plastic sunglasses on the tips of their noses. Sirius and Remus were sitting in front of them, leaning against each other. Remus finally got the hint (kinda) after Sirius kissed him.

Dorcas smiled at the memory as she walked into her first class at the one university she got into. She took her seat in the back next to a blonde girl with hair cut to her shoulders. She was reading a book called Cheating Your Way Through College For Dummies. Dorcas laughed and the girl looked up and removed her sunglasses that were covering up her freckles.

“You saw this?” Dorcas could see that one of her teeth was missing. She hoped it was because she accidentally hit something and something didn't hit her. She thought it was cute though. Her appearance, not the hitting, of course.

“Um, yeah. Sorry about that.” Dorcas responded.

“Don't be,” she smiled. “This is how I got through high school too.” She held up the book and laughed. “I’m Marlene.” Something gleamed in her dark blue eyes as she said her name.

Dorcas smiled slowly. Perhaps she could recall her face.

“I’m Dorcas.”

[cauliflowercounty]

The Babysitter (Clyde Logan x Reader)

Warnings:  None

-----     

     A buzzing erupts from Clyde's pocket and he grumbles in return, putting down his beer on the coffee table in his trailer.  He hates his phone, to be honest.  The buttons are too small for his fingers and it takes him forever to respond to anyone one-handed, but Mellie insists he needs one, saying he’ll “never know when his back’ll be against the wall” or something like that.  He fumbles around in his pocket for the device and pulls it out, recognizing that Mellie is actually the one calling him now.  

     “Hey, Mel.  Is everythin’ okay?” he asks after raising the phone to his ear after accepting the call. He can hear music in the background and people cheering.  “I know you’re goin’ on a date now.  Need me to pick you up?”

     “No, Clyde.  The date is going great, actually,” Mellie insists and Clyde’s chest relaxes.  He hates the thought of his little sister on a disastrous date, but he’ll be there for her if it is.  “You know Jimmy is to have Sadie and this week since Bobbie Jo and Moody are out of town on vacation and the Chapman kids are at their aunt’s place, right?”

     “Yeah, Mel,” Clyde replies as he remembers how ecstatic Jimmy was when he got the call from Bobbie Jo saying he could have Sadie for longer than an afternoon.  

     “Jimmy had to go on an extra-long shift at the hardware store... somethin’ about them bein’ short-handed.  He left her with me for the whole day, but I had this date and I couldn’t cancel.  I did get a babysitter for Sadie, the one Sadie really likes- thank goodness she could come- but I forgot to leave her a check,” Mellie explains wearily.  “Hold on, David.  I’m talkin’ to my brother!  Sorry about that, Clyde.  Her pay is $50.  I’ll pay you back the next time I see you.  Could you do this just this once, please?”

    “O’course,” he says immediately.  “She at your place?”

     “Yeah.  Thanks, Clyde.  I’ll call y/n to tell her that you’re stoppin’ by,” Mellie says into the phone and hangs up. Clyde puts his beer into the fridge and pulls on one of his flannels.  Grabbing his car keys and his checkbook, he heads out the door and hops in his car, quickly arriving at Mellie’s.  He walks up to the door and knocks twice. Immediately, he hears some shouting coming from behind it.  The door swings open wildly and Sadie throws herself into Clyde’s arms.

     “Hey, Uncle Clyde!” Sadie exclaims.  Clyde smiles down at Sadie, immediately noticing that she’s got some eye shadow and mascara on with a little bit of eyeliner to match.  “Y/n and I are doing some makeup!  She’s helping me try out new things and then we’re gonna make a tiramisu!  It’s chocolate, and coffee... ladyfingers, and this fancy cheese called mar... marn... What is it, y/n?”

     “Marscapone,” you say to Sadie, coming into view from the other room with a tube of lip gloss in your hand, and Clyde’s heart jumpstarts and his cheeks flush a light rose.  Your smile is beautiful he can tell you like being around Sadie. “Found that lip gloss you were wanting, Sadie.  Do you think you like this color or do you think we should choose a pinker one?”

     “I like this one!  Thanks, y/n!” Sadie shouts, rushing over to take the tube from you then dashing to the bathroom for a mirror.  

     “Don’t go crazy, now!” you call as she ducks out of sight.  You turn to Clyde with a warm smile.  “Hi.  I’m y/n.  You must be Clyde.  Mellie called to say her brother was coming,” you say with a little blush.  You hadn’t expected Clyde to be this tall and handsome, then again he was related to both Mellie and Jimmy.  You reach out your hand to shake his.

     “Hi...,” Clyde trails off, enamored with you.  He shakily extends his hand, too.  Your grip is firm and confident, yet delicate.  As he’s shaking your hand he notices his heart is racing a mile a minute.  Nervous, he retracts his hand and he looks down to make eye contact as you smile to him.  “Well, I was supposed to come by and drop you off a check...”

     Clyde reaches into his pocket, taking out his checkbook and quickly scribbling on it with a nearby pen as Sadie comes back, skipping to his side.

     “What do you think, Uncle Clyde?” she says gleefully, doing a small twirl.

     “It looks great,” he says to his nice.

     “Hey, Uncle Clyde.  Guess what,” Sadie says in a sing-song voice.

     “What is it, Sadie?” 

     “Y/n is readin’ that book that you were a week ago!”  Sadie explains.  “Y/n likes readin’, too.  She’s read all the classics that you have.  And her favorite book is the same!”

     Clyde feels his cheeks get hot and there’s a small part of him that twinges in disbelief. He’d have expected you to be quite opposite him and it’s almost too good to be true, what Sadie is saying.

     “Y’know, y/n. My Uncle Clyde is a bartender.  He owns his own place of the highway.  It’s called Duck Tape.  Like duct tape, but what people say when they don’t know it’s for air ducts,” Sadie rambles.  His heart swelling, Clyde wonders why he never met you in the past and how good a match you two’d be based on what Sadie’s said.  “Y/n likes some of the same things you do, Uncle Clyde.  She likes her bacon burnt and good drinks.  I know that because I over-hear her and Daddy talkin’ sometimes after they think I’ve gone to bed.  She likes old country music classics, too, and Bob Seger.”

     “Okay, okay.  That’s enough, Sadie,” you smile to her.  “I’m going to get out the ingredients.  And Clyde?”

     Clyde’s ears perk up and his heart warms at the sound of his name coming off your lips.  He could definitely get used to that sound.  

     “Thanks for dropping off the check.  I don’t know why Mellie insisted it happen tonight and dragged you into this.  It really wasn’t a big issue I wasn’t paid tonight, but I’m thankful you’re here,” you say softly, disappearing into the kitchen.  As soon as you’re out of the room, Sadie rushes up to Clyde again.

    “What do you think, Uncle Clyde?” she whispers to him.

     “What do you mean, Sadie?”

     “Of y/n.  She likes all the stuff you like.  And she’s single,” Sadie adds, trying to get Clyde to say something about you.  “She had a boyfriend named Derek a while ago.  I didn’t like him.  He was a flake and left her for someone named Mary-Beth.  Aunt Mellie and I agree she deserves better.”

     “You can’t be implyin’ what I think you are, Sadie.”

     “I am, Uncle Clyde.  You should ask her out,” Sadie insists.

     “I just met her, Sadie,” Clyde replies, wishing he could ask you out, imagining you both sitting at a table in a nice restaurant.  He’d wear a suit and you’d look lovely.  You’d talk, laugh, eat, bond and at the end of the night, he’d drive you home, hold your hands and say he enjoyed the night and hopes you’ll do it again.  “I would be inappropriate...”

     “But-” Sadie begins to protest, but just as she starts, Mellie comes through the door.  As soon as Mellie sees Clyde, she sighs.

     “You were right, Clyde.  The date was a bust,” Mellie admits, throwing her keys down.  “Sorry I had to leave you, Sadie, but I see you and y/n are havin’ fun.”

     “We were just about to start cookin’,” Sadie smiles.  “Tiramisu!”

     “Welcome back, Mellie,” you say, coming back into the room

     “Thank you so much, y/n.  I owe you a favor,” Mellie smiles.  

     “It’s nothing.  Sadie here,” you say giving her a hug.  “... is so much fun.”

     You say your goodbyes and leave, closing the door behind you and Clyde is sad to see you go.  He watches through the window shades as you turn your lights on, back out, drive away.  A twinge of regret washes over him and his heart that was soaring only moments ago has hit rock bottom again.  Clyde guesses it’s fate.  It’s the Logan family curse.  

     “Aunt Mellie, he didn't do it!” Sadie complains.  “And we made it so easy for him!  I even laid it out for him just like you said!”

     “Clyde...!” Mellie laughs.  “Did we do all that work for nothin’?  We were tryin’ to set you up with her...”

     “You can’t be serious, Mel,” Clyde gasps, adamantly trying to deny his sister and his niece would ever try something like that.  It’s impossible that anyone would even think Clyde could be with someone like you.

     “Dead serious.  We’ve been wantin’ you and her to meet for months now.  Jimmy’s even in on this, too, Clyde” Mellie explains, crossing her arms.

     “I can’t believe he didn’t pick up on it,” Sadie says to Mellie, whose shoulders relax as she goes up to her brother, placing a hand on his shoulder, knowing partially why he didn’t make a move while it was so easy was because he’s still a little insecure about his arm and unable to believe pretty girls are even capable of liking him.

     “Do you like her, Clyde?”  Mellie asks, looking at her brother in the eyes, hoping he does.

     “Y-yeah...,” Clyde says under his breath, disappointed in himself.  Something good was within his grasp and he let you slip through.  “She seems kind-hearted and sweet.  She didn’t comment on my arm or stare at me like others do.”

     “And she likes reading!” Sadie interjects, making Clyde smile.

     “... and she likes reading,” Clyde grins, thinking of going to a coffee shop or the library with you and spending hours in their curled up with some good books and you.  Mellie exhales, but smiles, grabbing a pen and some notebook paper.

     “Here’s her number, Clyde,” Mellie says.  “Good luck.”

     “Good luck, Uncle Clyde!” Sadie calls as he folds the slip of paper and heads out the door, the excitement back in his heart.

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

     Five months later, Clyde wakes up, groggy from sleep.  He rolls over and wraps his arms around you, running his thumbs over your skin, nuzzling his nose into your neck.  You giggle as his facial hair tickles.

     “Good Morning, Clyde,” you grin, turning to face him, giving him a soft smile.  He mumbles a good morning to you, too, as he places a soft kiss on your lips.  ‘Clyde, I have morning breath!” you laugh, placing your fingertips on his lips.

     “So?” Clyde coos, going back in for another kiss.  “I love you,” he whispers.

     “I love you, too, Clyde,” you reply, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close, hoping you’ll never have to let go.  “Remember we’re meeting up with Jimmy, Mellie, and Sadie for lunch today, so we can’t dawdle.”

    “Mmhmm,” Clyde mumbles.  “Remind me to thank them again for settin’ us up.”

     “You always say that when we go to meet up with them!” you smile with a small chuckle.

     “Well, I owe ‘em a lot.  Without them, we wouldn’t be like this together and I would have missed out on the best five months of my life...,” Clyde beams, looking into your eyes and cupping your cheek tenderly.  

     “You can’t mean that, Clyde.  What about your childhood or your time with your military buddies?” you suggest.  Clyde only shakes his head.

     “No, Darlin’.  You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Clyde replies, holding you tight.  “and I swear to you.  I’m tellin’ the truth and I’m so grateful that you’re here in my life.”

     “The felling’s mutual, Clyde.  Promise me this’ll never end?” you ask, hoping that this risk you’re taking won’t be in vain.

     “Of course.  I’d rather relive the day I lost m’arm on repeat than leave you.”

[hypnotica-ships]

3x3

So, thanks to some A+++ enabling from the discord server, I've decided to post my BNHA self insert fanfic. I haven't really talked about my insert, but I plan to sometime in the future, but for now I"ll leave ya'll in the dark.

This whole thing was made just to make me and my friends feel good and give us some much needed self indulgence.

Word Count- 1,550

Hypnotica- My S/I

Grafight- @fictional-characters-are-hot's S/I

Slasher- @alwayslovestruck's S/I

It's been 3 hours.

4 hours since the hero team Discorded was asked to help out with a capturing some drug smugglers.

3 1/2 hours since they found the drug den.

3 hours since Hypnotica sent in Grafight and Slasher to covertly search the place.

3 hours since he's heard a response.

It was a loud, shrill scream that made his blood go cold. Expecting the worst, he decided to find some loiters and use his quirk to get some backup.

After being only able to scour up 2 shadows for his mask alts to posses, he realized the longer he spends time looking for people, the more harm could come to his friends...*family*. Dolly, taking the form of a Harpy, and Dylan taking a shape of a Lion man, will have to do for backup. Hoping that it won't be needed, he finds an open window and heads into the den.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Look! They're opening the crates. That must be how they ship the quirk enhancing drugs."

"Slasher. I can't see shit, it's too dark in here and I don't have dope cat eyes like yo-....wait a sec..."

The younger of the heroes takes out a sketch book and quickly draws our some night vision binoculars and they suddenly 'pop' out into a physical object. After giving a thumbs up, in order to stay quite, Grafight uses the goggles.

"Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit....that's a lot of powder. How the hell do they sell it all?"

Slasher just shrugs it off and continues watching the group of men, tail swaying as they do.

All of a sudden, all of the men stop moving. A few moments later they all turn to the gurder that the hero duo were perched on.

"Hey! Lookey here fellas, some new 'test subjects' to try the new mix on."

"Oh as if you'd even come close to touching us! You won't even get a chance to lay a finger on us. Right Grafight?"

"Right! Good luck fuckers!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Slasher! Grafight! What's going o-...."

"We won!'

Hypnotica was greeted by the sight of Slasher triumphantly standing with one foot on top of a human mound of passed out thugs while Grafight was looking over the crate of drugs, kicking one of the thugs that started move on the ground.

"Wha- Then who the hell screamed?!"

Grafight, grabbing the thug she kicked by his collar and threatening to punch him again.

"This guy did. I think he's like...the kingpin or something. Screams like a little bitch though."

"We managed to take these guys out super easily, like it was nothing! Can't believe they were talkin' smack like they could beat us..."

Still a bit shaken up from his worry, Hypnotica headed over to check out the crate. Noticing a strange metal box buried slightly underneath some of the drugs, he pulls it out and begins to question the kingpin about it.

"This your tracker? Is this the thing that you use to keep an eye on your 'supplies'?"

"You better answer. Grafight is pretty liberal with bodily harm."

Slasher says as she walks over to look at the box better, poking it with one of her claws.

"...it....it...he.....hehaha..."

"Punching time?" Grafight asks looking up at Hypnotica.

"Not yet. He needs to be conscious to answer our questions."

"Talk then, asshat."

"...doesn't matter....we....we were gunna..."

"Gunna what, idiot?!"

"d....die...die anways..."

"...Punch him Grafight."

Hypnotica grumbles while Dolly pried open the box with her talons.

"Gladly!"

"...I don't think he meant, like, *80 times Grafight...*"

Slasher now worriedly watches as the kingpin get's absolutely destroyed by fists.

"..."

Hypnotica seems frozen as he looks down at the box, unmoving, and holding his breath. Cocking her head, Slasher notices that somethings wrong with him.

"Hey....you alright big bro?"

"..."

Finally stopping her onslaught on the kingpin, Grafight looks over to Hypnotica.

"Cat got your tongue or something?"

Still not saying a word, Hypnotica turns the box so the others can see. In the box is a small glowing green tube with wires attached to it, there's also a countdown screen slightly below it. It's only got 3 seconds left on it.

As her tail drops, so does her heart, with only a few second to accept her fate Slasher meekly gasps as she starts to speak.

'Oh..'

'Shit'

Grafight finishes Slasher's thought, right before everything goes white.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sirens are blaring as the green mist clears from the rubble of what's left of the warehouse. Various bodies are strewn all about, policemen and EMTs were able to arrive on the scene fairly quickly. Not that it mattered, the damage was done. From the looks of everything, there was no survivors, all thugs and kingpin were either crushed by the rubble or suffered from some strange type of asphyxiation. Death seemed to encompass the area, until one of the EMTs discovered a lion like shadowy figure seemingly protecting a group of still breathing bodies. The figure soon dissipated leaving a strange mask in it's place.

The bodies were still alive, but barely, and they needed medical attention and fast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"-Sources say that the 'hero' team were incapable of apprehending the group and had to resort to extreme measures to stop the-"

"Horseshit! Why would we set off a bomb? We had it covered already, it wouldn't kill them to get their facts straight..."

"Calm down Gummybear, the doc said you shouldn't strain yourself..."

It's been 4 days since Grafight was released from the hospital, suffering from 2 broken arms, rendering her unable to use her quirk...among other things. Fatgum, her partner, had insisted to stay by her side until things healed, neglecting his own hero duties in the process.

"The doc can shove it as far I care! These newscasters have no right to spew out garbage lies like that! It's gunna hurt our rep.... Sure we might not be the nicest, safest, smartest heroes in the game, but we aren't villainous either!"

"...You...you do have a point, but don't worry about it, I"m sure one of the others will give them a piece of their mind and sort things out. Right now you and I have dinner to eat!"

Grumbling as she rose from the couch, Grafight followed her partner to the kitchen, sitting down at the small round dinning table that the family usually shared. This dinner was different though. The table had a nice white satin cloth draped over it, with 2 light candles on top. It seemed that this time these two will be dinning alone.

"Take a seat baby, I'll go grab our meal."

"It better be something good, the meals at the hospital were utter shit..."

She lets her sentence trail on as a covered plate is placed ever so gently in front of her.

"Oh? Did you plan on surprising me? ....Babe, my arms, I can't open it."

"Yeah, my bad, here ya go my sweet Gummy."

Fatgum slowly removes the cover for maximum surprise effect. Once it's off, Grafight can't help but smiley widely as she notices one of her favorite meals, but with a culinary twist. Hotdogs sliced up into star shapes, surrounded by a circle of mashed potatoes, topped with melted cheese, a dash or salt, and a glob of ketchup in the middle of it all.

"So? Ya like?"

"..."

Grafight's eye's start to tear up, but her smile still stays plastered on her face. Fatgum notices right away and goes to quickly grab some tissues.

"Oh Gummy, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you! I just...I just thought I could do something special for ya...I...I-"

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe! I love it! Omg, I love it so much, you're the best, you know that right?"

"I...yeah....no. Wait. YOU'RE the best, you're so strong and special to me, I...I"m just so happy that I didn't lose you...you mean the universe to me."

"Stop...I'm already crying, let's just...let's just enjoy this meal together, okay?"

"Okay. I"m starving anyways..."

Fatgum takes his place across from Grafight, and starts to devour his meal.

"Uh....Ahem...."

"Oh! Yeah, my bad, let me help ya."

The two enjoy their meal together, never breaking their love filled eye contact.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Slow down Mochi, you shouldn't be over-exerting yourself."

"But Kano, I want to dance! I really like this song...cough cough...it's a total....total banger, and I deserve to have some.....fun after what happened. Everyone else has been so....gloomy since then....I just....want to bring some life.....back into the house is all...."

"I know, I know...but, you won't be able to do much joy-spreading if you can barely walk to the mailbox without getting winded halfway there."

"Hmph, stupid bomb chemicals getting.....getting into my lungs...fucking up my whole system...did they ever figure out what...what was in that tube...anyways?"

"They still haven't called us back about the results yet, but they said the inhaler they gave you was working well enough for us not to worry. So we won't, right Mochi?"

"...Yeah...I guess...I just hate...feeling weak like this...I wanna cry but.... I don't want the others to...to see....they've been through enough....I don't wan them to worry about me...me too..."

Kano takes a moment to think, after a moment he takes Slasher's paw and leads her into the living room.

"Sweety...what are you doing?"

After he gets Slasher to relax on the couch, he walks over the Hypnotica's advance sound system and grabs a homemade looking CD. Putting it in he looks to Slasher.

"The good doctor said YOU shouldn't exert yourself, but....he never said anything about me."

As soon as the music starts, Kano begins to dance in a way that's all to familiar to Slasher. It's a dance they've grown to call the 'Humpty Dance', and no one else in the house can quite get it right like these two.

"Oh Kano! This....this makes me so....happy! Keep...keep going! Maybe...maybe you could...put in some...Slipknot next? Pwetty Pwease?"

"Anything for you my Mochi."

Slasher enjoys the show Kano puts on for almost 2 hours, by the time he gets done, Kano is just about as winded as Slasher has been recently. The two then cuddle on the couch, just taking in each other's slow and labored breathes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You will most certainly not."

Sir Nighteye slams his hand down on the counter to emphasize his point, making Hypntoica jump a little.

"And why the fuck not? The need to get their facts straight. I will not stand for all of this fucking slander."

Sir sighs and pushes his glasses up, trying to calm himself down.

"I understand that, but 'kidnapping the newsroom executive' is not the most ideal way to go about it. You can barely walk, even with the crutches!"

Motioning to Hypnotica's broken left leg, and the sprain in his other. Hypnotica just huffs and looks off to the side, still with an angered expression plastered on his face.

"So. Fucking. What? Okay, maybe kidnapping is a bit extreme, but..."

Sir's own angry expression starts to soften as he notices the tears that begin to fall from his partner's face. Wondering how long he's been holding it in.

"...I can't let my family take the blame for a stupid mistake that I made!"

Hypnotica's body begins to shudder as more tears fall, Sir walks over to him and embraces him in a way to try to calm him down.

"It's not your fault...all of you did what you could to try and handle the situation."

"That doesn't excuse all of the death and destruction that happened, and not to mention all the hurt my family is going through because of it!"

"No. It doesn't. But how is any of that your doing, hmm?"

"...I...I..."

"Shh, just stay, and relax. I'll make up a fully detailed report and send out a few copies to some of the stations. They'll most likely use those facts since my name does carry some weight..."

While still holding him with his right hand, Sir uses his left to tilt Hypnotica's chin up to meet his eyes. After a few seconds go by, he rests his head on his partner's.

"...Trust me dear. Everything will turn out just fine."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I saw it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"A trusted source, who has decided to stay anonymous, has confirmed that the deaths in the Discorded Warehouse accident were not the before mentioned teams fault, but the fault of-"

"Thank you! Finally, a news channel that checks their facts. Even though I'm fine with a few deaths under my belt, but whatever I guess."

"Oh! Look Gummy! That's me! Saving all of those orphans was quite the task, I'll have to tell you all about it later."

"Kano my love! Let me help you with those dishes, there is far to many for one man to clean."

"Thank you Mochi! I kinda went all out with the meal this time, it was a celebration for everyone recovering so quickly....well, mostly everyone..."

"I call bullshit. Of course right after I get healed I trip down the stairs and end up right back to square one."

"Guess that means I'll have play nurse bit longer my dear."

~~*Cue Laugh Track*~~

[tes-trash-blog]

Mycosis, Or A Slightly More Scientific Take On How The Falmer Came To Be

(Alt title: I’m Never Eating Mushrooms Again)

Yep. This is happening.

Preface: This essay/rant/overanalysis is focusing only on the theoretical physical and biological aspects Falmer devolution. Expect a shorter rant on the spiritual aspect on a later date, thanks to oyarsas.

Part 1. Just Who Were The Falmer Anyway? A Brief Primer

According to the one surviving Snow Elf in Skyrim, the ancient Falmer were a wealthy and advanced race of Elves that occupied a portion of Skyrim during the Merethic Era. A few shenanigans, some unspeakable war crimes, and a genocide later, the remnants of this race fled underground into the waiting arms of the Dwemer. They laid it down in simple terms:

“Many of your people had perished under the roaring, snow-throated kings of Mora, and your wills were broken, and we heard you, and sent our machines against your enemies, to thereby take you under. Only by the grace of the Dwemer did your culture survive, and only by the fifteen-and-one tones did your new lives begin.”

(Fun fact: If you translate the Stone using Ayleid words, it’s actually a lot more sinister!)

This wasn’t out of the goodness of their hearts, as the Dwarves were, in objective terms, dicks. While they didn’t want tearful songs of gratitude or boot-licking, they weren’t about to let a bunch of homeless and traumatized Elves, y’know, recover. No, they wanted something.

“We only request you partake of the symbol of our bond, the fruit of the stones around us. And as your vision clouds, as the darkness sets in, fear not.”

That something was their sight, and their obedience. Given what very little we know about Snow Elven culture, this looked to have been a bit of a big deal. After all, all the Prelates at Auri-El’s wayshrines implement light and sight in their blessings, much of the surviving iconography depicts the sun and its radiance, and what few surviving accounts remain mention the “dread of night” and “blessed sun”.

This wasn’t a decision made lightly, is what I’m getting at. The fact they agreed at all surely meant the Dwarves could do what they wished. Seeing some of the more elaborate torture chambers and traps, we can safely assume they did.

The Blinding happened in the Late Merethic Era, some hundreds of years before the Dragon War and the beginning of the First Era. Now comes the fun part.

And by fun part, I mean gross part.

Part 2. Can’t We Just Wrap This Up And Blame The Dwarves?

It wouldn’t be an overanalysis if I did, now would it?

There are theories abound as to how the Dwarves corrupted them, or they were part of a failed experiment (Underkiing, Lord_Hoot). This essay is going to ignore these theories, and focus on the more biological aspects of the Falmer transformation. Starting with a quote from the last surviving Snow Elf:

“The blinding of my race was supposedly accomplished with a toxin. Certainly not enough to devolve them into the sad and twisted beings they've become.”

This is further supported with the poem The Betrayed:

“Thrown into the pitch black dread of night.

Living in fear as their minds become lost.

As their eyes began dimming the light.”

This lost book also points to the slow creeping of insanity among the Snow Elves, no doubt from the unspeakable horrors seen above ground and the fancy word that made me write this whole damn essay in the first place: Mycotoxin!

Mycotoxins are a broad name for the various types of poisons produced by the Fungi kingdom, specifically those that affect animals, humans, and in this case, Elves. From NCBI’s extensive article on Mycotoxins:

“The majority of mycotoxicoses, on the other hand, result from eating contaminated foods. Skin contact with mold-infested substrates and inhalation of spore-borne toxins are also important sources of exposure. Except for supportive therapy (e.g., diet, hydration), there are almost no treatments for mycotoxin exposure”

“[...] Acute toxicity generally has a rapid onset and an obvious toxic response, while chronic toxicity is characterized by low-dose exposure over a long time period, resulting in cancers and other generally irreversible effects.”

That sounds… bad.

So, there are few if any treatments for mycotoxin exposure, and the Dwarves were not ones to use magic, so the only feasible treatment for the mass-poisoning would have been a good diet and hydration, but something tells me the Dwarves were not keen on giving their slaves either of those. From the Diary of Faire Agarwen, we can reasonably deduce that conditions were cramped, dark, and damp even among those who had political clout:

“Seventh Marking, Tenth Kulniir

[...] Often the surroundings make it impossible to dwell on any happiness. We have been locked together in such close quarters for so long.”

Keep in mind here that a kulniir was a notched basin that functioned as a simple time keeper, using drops of water. The diary also mentions there’s no real natural light, so we see the combination of dark, damp, and cramped. This was from a woman who held some social capital. We can assume that conditions for your average Joe and Sally were much worse.

Even among the best of conditions, the Snow Elves were kept in were prime real estate for molds and fungi to thrive. There is (thankfully) no evidence to support my next claim, but it’s also not exactly a stretch of the imagination.

The Falmer: A Study makes clear that the blinding was a multi-generational effort. Within perhaps two or three generations, the Snow Elves were eternally blind. Adding to the permanent blindness, there very well could have been the more unpleasant, unwanted, and unplanned changes.

I’m talking about mutagens.

To pull a real life example, Fumonisin B1 can cause neural tube defects in utero, which means that the toxin affects the development of the brain and spinal cord, as well as the central nervous system. In extreme, chronic cases of fumonisin poisoning, it can keep the brain from forming into a viable state, causing stillbirths. In a universe where dragons fly around and singing plants can make poisons, it’s not too much of a stretch to say that there is something equally terrifying growing in Blackreach. Already blinded, chronically ill, and hopeless, the next generation of Snow Elves were doomed to an ever lower standard of living without even the knowledge that things could be better. Combine that with whatever mold infected whatever flora that grew underground, similar to how say, fumonisin blights grains and how black mold is generally Really Bad For You.. Well, we can assume that there was a more subtle force that guided them to their ferality than whatever the Dwarves did to them.

In the same way the lead pipes of Rome contributed to developmental problems among their populace, I can imagine the toxic spores creating more violent, more feral Falmer, until finally their very sentience was taken from them. Seeing as all of this culminated into a war that spanned decades, something tells me the Dwarves didn’t see that coming.

Part 3: So… CAN They Be Cured?

The short answer is no. From the words of the Knight Paladin himself:

“I'm afraid that they're well beyond a cure at this point. The twisted forms you've seen didn't occur overnight. It isn't a plague or a disease that ravaged our species. The dwarves may have stolen their sight, but it took many generations for them to become what they are today.”

And as found earlier, there are no effective cures for mycotoxin exposure, and I imagine even less for chronic, multi-generational poisonings like what happened to the Snow Elves of old. I’m assuming, but I really don’t want to ever see that tested in the field.

But not all is lost. Gelebor also notes that the modern Falmer have started to re-develop their intellect. This grabbed me, as the Forgotten Vale is vastly different than the caves and ruins you normally find Falmer in. There’s fresh air and cool breezes, and open spaces for those sad little gremlins to lurk about. In short, they’re away from the poisonous influences of those dark caves and toxic spores.

It’s entirely possible that the Falmer of the Vale are developing, and it’s in part because they’re no longer confined to the dark and damp that was their prison. It’s entirely possible that with enough time, and enough patience, the Falmer could slowly undo the effects of their chronic poisoning. Not enough to become the Snow Elves of legend, those days are long since past, but perhaps enough to break their chains, and finally put a voice to thousands of years of suffering.

Sources, inspirations, and tangentially related articles:

Mycotoxins, from the National Center for Biotechnology Information. A recommended primer on the nature of mycotoxins and their effects on more complex organisms.

Toxic effects of mycotoxins in humans, from the World Health Organization, another excellent starting point if you like reading about poisonous fungi.

Repeating Mistakes of the Past: Another Mycoherbicide Research Bill, a condemnation of using mycotoxins in of all things, drug control. This article also calls the use of mycotoxins against humans for what it is: Biowarfare. An interesting, insightful, and very depressing read.

A review of the toxic effects and mechanisms of action of fumonisin B1, from the journal Human and Experimental Toxicology. Behind a paywall, but the abstract sums it all up quite nicely.

A Wikipedia article on the Mexican Tetra, because I think they’re cute.

UESP, without which I would be even more of a babbling trash gremlin.

[itsgonnabe-brian-may]

mirror, mirror p1/?

Word Count: 1687

Eventual Brian May x reader but slow burn because I'm mean

✦✧✦✧

The pubs and clubs downtown London were notorious for nasty dressing rooms & rehearsal rooms. This pub wasn't any different. The dressing room contained one rectangular mirror with a light missing the lampshade sitting beside it. A few beat up dark wood stained chairs that were at interesting heights.

Any band that was popular suffered enough until they were good enough to start demanding better gigs at bigger and nicer pubs. Eventually, they had a whole team to make them look like effortless rock stars and had a tour bus instead. Smile wasn't exactly there quite yet. Roger's attitude was though.

"You'd think they'd make this hell hole a little nicer if they want bands to actually play here" He spat annoyed as the 3 boys made their way into the room they haphazardly put a dressing room sign on.

"Well, at least they have a mirror so you can fix the disaster you call hair" Tim snapped back, just as annoyed.

Each of them carried on with their pre-performance rituals which were not limited to vigorous hair brushing, chugging a beer, maybe a throwing back a tequila shot if nerves were an issue, weird vocal exercises, hand stretches and cracking knuckles.  

Y/N knocked on the door with a tightlipped smile to tell the boys it was show time. She had been working for a few months now, slowly gaining more responsibilities with the backstage part of the gigs. Originally bartending and mixing perfect martini's. Standing in heels wearing a white button up and a bow tie wasn't the look she wanted to sport on a Friday night. So when the opportunity to wear a pair of worn out jeans and sneakers presented itself, she took it.  Even if it meant missing the opening songs, well... not if Smile was on, they always played loud enough to hear from the back.

As the music filled the air the atmosphere shifted. Dancing to the guitar solo you pulled out a gold tube of lipstick to re-apply the peachy pink shade. Just as you went to press the point to your lips a loud crash of drums startled you causing a streak of lipstick to end up on the mirror. It was a crisp line that looked something like a Myers Briggs test. The random mark sparked an idea, so instead of cleaning the mirror, you added more marks to form "Stellar Job Boys" in messy but somehow elegant penmanship. Laughing at the absurdity of what you just did, you finished re-applying and left to enjoy the band. Little did you know it would become a habit, but only for one certain group of boys.

Quite a bit after they had finished Roger went to the bar and god only knows where Tim went. So, only Brian had returned to the tiny dressing room. He was tired and upset but mostly overwhelmed. Tim had just left the band and been replaced in the matter of an hour. Letting out a sigh and sinking into the only chair left in the dim room, which happened to be placed in front of the mirror, that now contained a smear of lipstick. Looking up at himself he noticed the curly writing in peach. Letting out a laugh he looked around at the people tearing down the set for anyone sporting a peach-toned lip. His eyes fell upon you for a brief moment as you walked away, his eyes stayed on your back as you left but he had no idea that the handwriting had belonged to you.

✦✧✦✧

The next night had been almost the same, except Brian was constantly scanning for the peach lip. He had also be-lined for the mirror as soon as the band had stepped into the pub. Nothing. Letting out a shaky sigh he pushed his hair out of his face. He was nervous. For obvious reasons, but the missing message didn't seem to help. Roger soon kicked him out of the mirror to fix his own hair. The night went on to be a success, even if the beginning of the night had been rocky and met with backlash. Y/N had gone to clean up the dressing room once again as Smile took the stage. You began humming their first song before they started playing, so when they actually started playing you were bewildered and froze in your tracks. Quickly running to the stage curtains you watched as Freddie struggled with the mic and how Brian and Roger shared glances. Your heart went out for the boys since clearly, they weren't planning on replacing Tim with a man who has never been on stage before. However, as the night went on you were presently surprised at how good they were, dare you say better than before. Your mind drifted to the night before and the message you left, wondering if they saw it.

'It wouldn't hurt to say well done, would it? ' you whispered under your breath before turning to run to the dressing room once you heard the trio reach the last song.

Unfortunately, you didn't have the same lipstick as you had the night before so you dug out a cherry red lip from your purse. Pausing briefly before you wrote the message on the top corner, this time signing off with a heart.

Brian was the first in the dressing room, this time he wasn't alone and had a smile on his face. The night had gone particularly well and he had fun, for the first time in a while. Even Roger willingly returned to the dressing room. A hint of red on the mirror was the cause for the guitarists widening smile. In the same lettering as the night before "Surprising, but fantastic, keep the newbie" was written.

"Looks like we've got a fan," Brian said nodding towards the mirror.

"How are you sure that's meant for us?" Fred asked walking over to read it.

"Well, not many newbies in the band make us, 'surprising, but fantastic'" Rog laughed. "Do you have any guess on who she is?" He asked as a follow-up.

"What makes you think its a girl?" Freddie asked leaning closer to the mirror so the words looked as if they were on his forehead. "A man could also have written on the mirror"

"Nah, man. It's the same handwriting as the note last night, just a different color" Brian remarked.

The other two boys just looked at him.

"What?"

"What do you mean what? What message? And what did it say?" Roger quipped.

"Oh right, it said "Stellar Job Boys"  in a peach shade" Brian answered sheepishly.

Soon after all 3 boys would keep an eye out for the shade of red or peach that found it's way on the mirror after gigs. Even the new bassist, John, joined in the search. Especially after you had commented on how with the newbie they were gonna make it big. Nothing promising but they narrowed it down to one of the employees. However, their time to search for you was getting slimmer and slimmer. You had been right, with the addition of John, and the change to Queen, they were making it big. It had been a while since the 4 boys had been in the shabby dressing room. Nothing had been upgraded or changed but they could not wait to sit in that room. So, once they heard they had booked a gig there when they got back from tour, they were ecstatic. Setting up quickly due to excitement had caused Brian to leave behind the sixpence coin he used as a pick behind. It was sitting lonesome on the counter near the famed mirror.

You weren't working that night but you were there nevertheless. You weren't gonna lie, it was because you wanted to see Queen and leave another message. Normally you would be able to leave a message just before they ended, but you wanted to watch the whole set from the audience so going just before they started would have to work. Making your way through the crowd you found your way to the dressing room. Walking in you scanned the room quickly to make sure the boys had gone. Writing your message on the mirror and signing with a heart, as usual, you looked down. Your eyes widened as the glint of the sixpence caught your eye.

Meanwhile, Brian's eyes widened as well. He had forgotten his coin.

Fred had just walked on stage and the crowd went wild.

"I'll be right back" Brian whispered quickly in Roger's ear just before sprinting off to find his coin.

Roger was a bit confused but couldn't think about it much as Freddie introduced his name.

✦✧✦✧

You had just picked up the coin carefully as Brian skidded past the room and abruptly stopped and ran into the room. Freezing once he saw you.

"Oh, uh, looking for this?" You asked reaching out with the coin. He blankly stared at your lips noticing that it was the same shade as the message left that first night.

"Uh...um, yeah... thanks" He stuttered out, not believing that he had finally figured out who was behind the sweet words of encouragement and messy penmanship on the mirror.

You let out a gentle laugh and handed over the coin.

"Oh, right, Sorry, I'm Brian.." He said shyly after taking the coin.

"Y/N" You replied with a smile that lit up the entire room, distracting him from the task at hand.

✦✧✦✧

"And our guitarist, Brian May" Freddie had called out for the third time looking at the curtains where Brian was supposed to come through.

"Shit, I have to go, nice to finally meet you Y/N" Brian called running from the dressing room to the stage with a happy grin. He had made it just before Freddie announced his name for the 4th time. Once on stage waved while walking over Freddie and the other boys.

"I met her," Brian said smugly and turned to the audience looking for you, he began plucking the first chords as your eyes locked across the room.  

[niall-is-my-dream]

Songbird - Part Two

“When Erin decides to perform one of her favourite songs at a bar, she didn’t expect one of the singers, Niall Horan, to be in the audience. What started as an appreciation for her cover quickly turns into more than either bargained for.”

(Previously known as Fools Gold, this fic has been edited, reworked and finally finished!)

Thanks to @angryniall for being an amazing beta!

As always let me know what you think.

Em x 😘

Catch up below

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/184528124078/songbird-masterlist

2965words

Erin's POV

You caught the tube into Camden, annoyed at yourself for only putting on your short jacket considering how cold the air was tonight. It really did feel like Christmas time in London. Lights sparkling in the windows of the shops and bars, lots of people out on Christmas work nights celebrating.

You arrived at the bar, finding your work colleague's already there and starting on the gin menu. You were out with 5 work friends including Kathy and were laughing at a joke about Laura's husband when you heard your phone beep.

Taking your phone out of your bag, you glanced at the message.

"Most beautiful girl in the room. X"

You smiled, and couldn't believe he was here.

"Oh really??!!!" You replied.

"Yeah you are. X"

"You stalking me Horan?!" You replied, looking around trying to spot him.

"No, not at all! The lads wanted to come into Camden, and I may have suggested coming in here."

You were stood on tip toes looking around the bar when you saw him. He winked when he caught your eye. You smiled back.

Fuck he looked gorgeous.

He was with 6 other lads all drinking their pints and they seem oblivious to your interaction with him. The girls in your group were still laughing at jokes about Laura's husband and hadn't noticed either.

A couple of them headed off to the loo as you ordered some more drinks.

"Oh my God!" Kathy said when she came back. "You are never going to believe who I just walked passed!"

You knew what she was going to say.

"Niall Horan!" She squealed.

"Really?!" You said trying to act surprised.

"You don't look that excited!" She said.

"I am! But he's probably just having a drink with friends, we shouldn't bother him."

"Didn't you meet him last Friday?" Donna said. "Michelle said he was in The Courtyard last week, and he spoke to you after you'd sung one of his songs."

Great.

"You did??!!!" Kathy cried. "Oh my God!"

Shit.

You'd forgotten that Donna and Michelle were friends. Of course Michelle had told her about you meeting Niall. Her big mouth was the reason you'd not told her about you and Niall texting.

"Yeah, he came and said he'd enjoyed my version of it. No big deal." You replied shrugging your shoulders.

"He's not stopped looking over here at you." Said Laura.

"We are a group of rowdy women I suspect that's why he is looking over. Anyway, I need to go to the loo." You said as you squeezed passed them.

You headed into the stall and locked the door.

You let out a long and slow breath.

Why were you so nervous at seeing him?

The texting had been easy, not having to see his face and him not having to see you blush every time he said something sweet that left you swooning.

Taking a minute to get your thoughts together, you used the loo and washed your hands before making your way to the exit.

As you left the bathroom, there he was.

"Hey stalker." You said smiling, hoping a joke would ease the nerves you were feeling right now.

"Hey you." He replied moving closer to you, so you were just inches away from each other.

"You've caused quite a stir amongst my friends. One of them heard from Michelle that we'd met and now they can't stop asking me questions, said you were looking over at me."

"Well, I can't stop looking over at you. You look stunning." He said as he reached out to grab both your hands. His fingers stroked across them in circles as he looked at you. You heart was racing from his touch.

"Is it ok that I'm here?" He asked.

"More than ok." You admitted, causing you both to smile.

He leaned forward closing the gap between you. Your bodies so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin. You moved one of your hands from his and reached up to stroke the nape of his neck, running your fingers through his soft brown hair.

"Want to kiss you so much." He whispered.

God you wanted to kiss him so much too.

His eyes looked down to your lips, noticing how you were nervously biting them.

You smiled as he leaned in, your lips meeting his and he released your other hand so his were free to snake around your waist. He pulled you in closer deepening the kiss, his tongue sneaking into your open mouth. You pulled at his hair, as his hands found your bum and you let out a moan against his mouth before you pulled away.

Both of you were breathless, heaving low pants from just one short kiss.

"I have to go. They will be wondering where I am." You said smiling, wiping away your lipstick from his mouth with your thumb.

"Ok." He sighed as he released you from his grip, his lips drawn into a pout.

"Don't pout!"

"I wasn't! OK, maybe I was." He said, as he saw you rolling your eyes. "Just wish we were alone."

"Me to. But I have to go back to my friends, I'm sorry."

"Its fine, I understand. I know you want to keep this between you and me."

Pulling your hips closer to him, he leaned in and gave you one more kiss.

He watched you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you. You felt powerful leaving him there, hungry for more. Not in a nasty, leading him on way. But a power that you'd never felt before. This man wanted you, and you wanted him.

You reached your group again and they had found a large table to sit at, the drinks were flowing and you were all laughing. You couldn't stop glancing over at Niall and his friends. You saw one of them nudge him and you recognised him as one of the lads he was with at The Courtyard. A few minutes later he came walking over.

"Hello lovely ladies." He said in his soft irish accent. "I'm Deo."

Everyone said hello and asked him how he was.

"I actually have a quick question for you." He said looking at you. "Are you the girl from The Courtyard last Friday who was singing?"

"Yes, that was me." You replied nervously.

"I told him it was you. Niall said he wasn't sure it was."

"Oh right, yes definitely me." You loved the thought that Niall had played dumb.

"You were really good"

"Thanks."

"So are you ladies out partying tonight?" He said addressing the table.

"Yes, work thing." Laura replied warmly.

"Where do you work?" He asked.

"We are midwives at The Portland Hospital." Kathy said.

"Really? Bet you see a lot of interesting things!"

"Ha! Yes we do!" Donna replied laughing.

"Mind if we join you?" Deo asked, and nodded towards Niall and his friends.

"No, not at all!" Donna said smiling and everyone seemed to be agreeing.

Oh god you thought as Deo gestured for all the lads to come over. The boys all sat down amongst you all, getting chairs from neighbouring tables. Kathy had nabbed Niall and made you move up so he could sit between you both.

"Hi." He said as he sat down. "Nice to see you again."

"Yeah, you to." You replied tucking your lips into your mouth, still tasting him from your kiss.

He was such a cheeky shit and he knew it.

The lad opposite you, who Deo introduced as Willie winked at you, and that's when you realised he was the cousin that Niall lived with, and the only person at this table who knew you two were texting each other. Deo definitely didn't know, as he seemed the type to have probably already told everyone already if he did.

Kathy soon told Niall all about her daughter Lyla, and how you'd been to his gig. He offered to have a picture done with her and you'd obliged with being the person to take it. Kathy offered to take a picture of you both in return and he wrapped his arm around your waist as you leaned against him smiling. He squeezed your hip as he released you.

Such a shit you thought smiling.

The conversation flowed after that and to be honest the lads joining you had been so fun much. They were hilarious, the girls were all in hysterics as the alcohol flowed. You and Niall were sitting so close, that your knees were touching and he'd been playing footsie with you under the table the whole night.

You were desperate to kiss him again, but there was no way you'd get to do it tonight. You'd just have to wait till after Christmas when you were planning on meeting up.

Laura and yourself had work tomorrow, and had planned on leaving by 11. This was still your plan regardless of what happened with Niall, as you needed to sleep. You'd done the night shift last night, and had only had 5 hours sleep this morning when you'd got in.

You all left the bar at the same time as Niall and his cousins as they had to leave on an early flight in the morning any way. Standing outside saying goodbye was awkward, you desperately wanted to kiss him. He licked his lips as he looked at you, ducking his head down quickly to hide his smirk. You said your goodbyes to everyone and you hailed a taxi to drive you home.

You had just slipped into some pjs and were getting into bed when your phone rang. Face time Niall.

Great, you'd just taken off your make up and were wearing an old vest top and shorts. You looked like crap, but you couldn't not accept it.

You answered it smiling when you saw he had no top on and was clearly lying in bed to.

"You Horan, are a tease!" You said giggling. The 'not drinking that much' had turned out to be a load of rubbish as you and the girls made your way down the drinks menu. You were definitely feeling the effect now.

"What??!!!" He said laughing. "Ok, I'm just paying you back for leaving me hanging earlier."

"I did not leave you hanging. I couldn't stand there kissing you all night. They would've wondered where I was! Your fault anyway for stalking me!"

"Hey, I was not stalking. Deo wanted to go out in Camden and I said that someone had recommended the bar to me, so we went there to. Couldn't resist after the picture you sent me."

"You liked that did you?!"

"You know I did. I'm kind of regretting coming to the bar though."

Your heart sunk, where was this conversation going?

"That kiss was such a tease. Wish I could kiss you now." He whispered.

"You'll just have to wait 6 days!"

"6 days?! That's too long."

"Well, you're away tomorrow till the 28th"

"Wish I could come over now and kiss you, but I've got to leave at 9am."

"I'd never let you leave if you came over now." You said.

God where the hell had that come from? The bloody gin menu that's where.

"Oh don't tell me that! Jesus!" He said turning his face in towards the pillow.

You snuggled down under the covers holding your phone in your left hand and you snuck your right hand down in your knickers stroking across your clit.

"Why not? You don't want to hear how much I want you here in my bed?" You said licking your lips.

You were so turned on by the sight of him shirtless in bed, that gorgeous chest hair just waiting to be stroked.

"Fuck, where is your other hand?" He asked biting his lip.

"In my knickers."

Jesus you should not drink ever again! The alcohol running through your veins now was making you do things you would never normally do. Including rubbing yourself while on facetime!

"Where's yours?"

"Wrapped around my cock." He mumbled.

You took in a breath and gasped at his words.

"Can't help it, been rubbing across it since I noticed your hard nipples through your vest top."

You leaned your phone against your quilt cover and used your free hand to rub across them over your top, pinching one of your nipples hard. A hearty growl escaped his lips and you knew then you'd got him. You could see his arm movements and you knew he was pumping his cock for you.

"Fuck." He mumbled.

"You like that?" You whispered to him.

"God yes, Erin you are so fucking sexy." He whispered back.

"Is your cock hard for me?"

"So hard. Are you wet for me?"

His eyes were closed now and the growls and moans escaping his lips were almost pornographic, and it was making you wetter by the second. You slipped two fingers inside yourself and used your palm to rub over your clit.

"God yes." You practically mewled back to him as you pumped your fingers faster.

"Jesus Erin, wish I could touch you right now. Wish it was my fingers knuckle deep inside you." He moaned back.

You moaned out his name as you felt a familiar feeling rising below you.

"Fuck .............. Niall I'm so close." You were writhing on your bed now, your eyes closed and your back arched as you pumped your fingers faster. Your palm causing so much friction over your clit you knew you were beginning to tumble.

The only sounds now were your moans and his growls, you knew he was close. You loved hearing him moan out your name as he stroked across his hard cock. Your breathing was hitched as you got closer to your orgasm.

"Oh fuck Niall yes." You whispered as you came. You continued to rub across your clit, not wanting it to end.

His grunts and low moans of your name told you he was coming to.

You laid there, your eyes still closed as you removed your fingers from inside you. Your breathing was beginning to steady and you finally got the courage to open your eyes. Niall was moving across his bed towards a bedside table, he was obviously cleaning himself up.

"Jesus Erin, you've made me make a right mess!" He laughed.

"Sorry!" You said pulling the covers up to hide your blushes.

"Don't be embarrassed that was fucking amazing. Never done that before and we are definitely doing it again."

"You liked that?"

"Yeah was totally unexpected to. Jeez!"

"Sorry, alcohol may have helped! I'm feeling flirty!"

"You can feel like that with me anytime!"

You just laughed and smiled, a warm glow on your face.

"Erin, I really like you." He suddenly blurted out. "I can't wait to get back after Christmas and see you."

You let out a sigh.

"I know it's going to be a slow week."

You chatted till nearly 1am before reluctantly saying goodbye.

The six days that Niall was away over Christmas weren't too bad. Work had been ok, and your Dad had picked you up from your night shift on Christmas morning and taken you back to your childhood house. You'd slept a bit, before joining in with your parents, grandparents, brothers and their partners when they played some games after dinner. Your brother's were both older than you, Ross was 28 and Luke was 31 compared to your 26. Both were married, and Luke was due to be a first time Dad in the spring.

Your phone bleeped throughout the day with messages from Niall, and it hadn't gone unnoticed from your over protective brothers.

"Who is that you're constantly texting? New bloke?" Ross had teased.

"No, just a friend"

"A friend who's a male?!" He'd teased.

"Yes, it is a male friend!"

"Thought so by the besotted teenage girl look on your face!" He laughed.

You gave him an eye roll but really you wanted to tell him to fuck off! But with your parents and grandparents around you couldn't.

"Can we face time later?" Niall had messaged. "Really want to see you x"

"Yes, but it'll be when everyone's in bed. They're all upstairs and I'm downstairs in the study. My brother's are asking me who I'm texting, I'm getting shit from them!"

"Brothers? Ok I'm worried now!"

"Yep, two older brothers!"

"Def worried now!"

"You're so cute x"

"So are you x"

Your grandparents were in bed by 10:30pm on Christmas day and the rest followed in the hour after, everyone tired by all the food your mum had provided and the early start. You were buzzing to see Niall and had text him about 11:30pm saying you were free to talk now.

Your phone rung instantly.

"Hi." He whispered. "You ok?"

"Yeah, you rang fast." You whispered back.

"I know sorry! Feel a bit like my old teenage self sitting in my old bedroom waiting for the girl I fancy to message me!"

You smirked at him. "You fancy me?"

"Just a bit." He smirked back. "Been thinking about you today."

"I've been thinking about you too." You admitted.

"What time are you working on the 28th? I'm back on an early flight."

"I'm in 7 till 4."

"Do you maybe want to see me after work?" He asked nervously, biting on his lip. "Maybe get some food delivered, and play some music or something?"

"I was thinking similar actually, you busy the day after?"

"No, are you working?"

"No I'm not, I'm off. Just wondered.........maybe if you might want to stay the night, you know if you wanted?" Now it was you who was nervously biting their lip.

"I'd like that." He said smiling.

Thanks for reading!

Tag @awomanindeniall

Let me know if you'd like to be part of a tag list.

[make-it-mavis]

A Million Dreams (1998)

A NEW YEARS’ FLUFF FIC -- MAV/TURBO IN SUGAR RUSH ERA. 2718 words, rated E for Everyone thanks to @nerdygalaxy-p for suggesting “sentimental, sweet and fluffy new years” shitgoblins content (although i chose to write it)!

Summary: Turbo and Mavis (King Candy and Pyrite) ring in the new year for the first time since they “took up residence” in Sugar Rush. Read in Google Docs here!

The first hours of 1998 crashed onto Sugar Rush with all their might. It was the first New Years’ Eve that the game had seen since it was plugged in, and it was certainly not going to be forgotten any time soon. All the stops had been pulled out for the merriment that hit when the clock struck midnight. Food, games, music, dancing, fireworks -- oh, so many fireworks. They simply could not have had any less, not for the magnificent new beginnings waking in the year to come. Most beginnings of which the Sugar Rush racers and citizens were completely blind to, but all the same, they celebrated with almost enough jubilee to cover them all.

Almost.

But how could they ever be expected to fill such a quota? Could one night alone truly hold a celebration worthy of the things to come?

After all, 1998 would be Sugar Rush’s first year under its new, far more qualified management. It would be the first of what was sure to be the best years any racing game had seen for over a decade, and it was all thanks to him. He had finally taken his hard-earned place on the sugary throne, and he would lead the kingdom into greatness. This time, it really was his to hold, defend, and command. This time, it would not go down the tubes. It was more than just a trophy, and certainly more than mere refuge.

It was his home. At long last, he had a home again.

Most would argue it was a step up, disregarding any sentimental value that his original game held in his heart. A kingdom stretching for miles in each direction was better than the tiny, boxy map he started life with. And a castle with a labyrinth of chambers, corridors, and dungeons was undeniably a step up from his tiny trailer. It was big enough, even, to drive around inside it, which was all for the better, because the trek from the castle doors to the royal chambers would become tedious to walk again and again, especially after a night of vigorous partying.

So, nearly four hours past midnight, his muscles aching from all his silly jumping and bouncing, and his throat raw from all his laughing and shouting, “King Candy” drove through the castle halls with reckless speed and uncanny precision. Even in his growing exhaustion, the speed stirred a tickled thrill in his stomach, and he could not keep from cackling out loud at the distressed gasps and grunts of his right-hand-man (or ball in this case) desperately holding onto the crown of his seat behind him.

When the royal chamber doors came up on their left, King Candy slammed on the breaks. There was a hard thump against the back of his seat, and a miserable groan. He shamelessly chuckled.

“Sour Bill,” he commanded firmly, exaggerating his natural lisp as far as it would go, “get off my car and open the doors, if you please.”

The little green ball, with his strange jelly bean limbs, grunted in agreement and dropped to the floor. It took a whole-body effort for him to push the doors open individually, because they were entirely too tall to be necessary for any creature in the entire game. Once the way was cleared, King Candy cruised inside, parked at the foot of his massive canopy bed and hopped out.

“Now, I believe, by now, you ought to know the drill, Sour Bill,” he chuckled at his own rhyme as he strode back to the doors. “A king needs his beauty rest -- not that I need much help with that, hoo hoo -- and a well-rested king is a happy king. So I am going to lock these doors, and you are to ensure everyone knows that I am not to be disturbed. Yes?”

Sour Bill looked as if the words turned to mush the second they reached him. Eyes downcast, he grunted, “Mmm-hmm.”

“Hey,” the king snapped his fingers. “Listen with your eyes, mister. Turn those emerald greens up here n’ try that again.”

With a short sigh, Sour Bill lifted his droopy gaze.

“Without the attitude,” King Candy said sharply.

“Apologies, your majesty,” Sour Bill droned.

“That’s quite alright, just don’t let it happen again. Now, let’s review -- I am not…?”

“To be disturbed,” Sour Bill finished promptly.

“Under any…”

“Circumstances.”

“Except…”

“A glitch emergency.”

“And even then…”

“Knock first.”

King Candy chuckled in approval and pat Sour Bill’s rock-solid head. “Now, that’s a good ball. Goodnight, Sour Bill. And a happy new year!”

“Happy new year,” he replied morosely, “your highness.”

Once the doors were closed, and after he listened to make sure Sour Bill’s footsteps really disappeared down the hall, the king locked the doors and leaned his back against them with a sigh. At last, it was time to unwind, and his bedroom scarcely looked more inviting. The game’s inhabitants had been lucky enough that the rare phenomenon of a Sugar Rush nighttime fell on New Year’s Eve, so the room was lit only by cool, sleepy moonlight pouring in from the stained balcony windows. It was all too tempting to just cross right to his needlessly large bed and curl up in a nest of silky blankets, but in truth, his night was not entirely done. He had to wait up just a while longer.

That little while dragged on longer than he would have liked. He wandered around the room, straightened trinkets on the dressers and paintings on the walls, opened up the hood of his car and marveled at the candy machinery for the hundredth time. He was lying on his bed staring at the canopy and trying not to slip out of consciousness when he finally heard her voice begin to sing from the balcony.

“Ev’ry night I lie in bed,

The brightest colors fill my head

A million dreams are keepin’ me awake…”

He knew that song. It was one of the oldest ones she ever wrote, and hearing it again sent such warm nostalgia washing over him that he could not even be annoyed at the long wait. The fact that she was finally there was suddenly all that mattered.

Swiftly, he strode to the door and cracked it open. There she was, lying on her back across the balcony rail, fully disguised, yet unmistakable. On the outside, she was Pyrite, the whimsical and admired ring master, with her rainbow ringlets, swirly eyes, top hat, and swallow-tailed coat that was most certainly just a rip off of his own. Even her brush had been modified, looking more like a staff or a slick, silky broom, lying on the floor next to her. But that twang in her voice that she was no longer hiding, the way she held her guitar like a loved one, and the arrogant way she let one leg dangle over the edge as if telling gravity itself to shove it, were all a dead giveaway. That was the girl he spent nearly his entire life alongside.

Without a glance his way, but a growing smile, she continued her song.

“I think of what the world could be

A vision of the one I see

A million dreams is all it’s gonna take

A million dreams for the world we’re gonna make…”

Fondness swelled in his chest. She had to have chosen that song specifically, and the thought of it brought to him a sort of contentment that he had never quite experienced until he entered Sugar Rush. The feeling that they had really, truly, made it.

He breathed a short chuckle, and spoke the last line to her. “The world we’re gonna make.”

Finally, she turned those mismatched eyes his way and lit a spark of that signature naughty grin. “Hey, Sugar,” she said lowly.

“Hey, Cherry Bomb,” he replied, falling into his natural, deeper voice that undoubtedly looked weird coming out of King Candy’s mouth.

Pyrite swung her legs around to solid ground, and King Candy crossed to the ledge to stand with her. They leaned against the rail, surveying the kingdom below, all the frosted peaks of truffle mountains and lollipop forests glinting in the moonlight. It was beautiful in the most unexpected way. Partially because of the way it looked, but mostly because it was his.

Well, it was theirs.

He glanced over at her. She gazed down at the world below with admiration in her eyes, a depth of which he rarely saw her give anything. She was absolutely in love with this new world, that much was certain. But something about her silence felt a bit uneasy.

“...’98, huh?” he prompted her casually.

“Ninety-freakin’-eight,” she chuckled in that accent he had not heard in so long. “What a night. What’s your verdict? Did I ring it in right?”

He scoffed. “You?”

“Yeah, me,” she grinned. “I planned the party, the fireworks, the decor, the food--” “But I planned the games, and the prizes, and led the entire event,” he interjected.

“Come on, T, you might be king a’ the world, but I’m still the queen a’ fun.”

“Only ‘cause I let you have fun in my world,” he nudged her.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she slapped the rail in light protest. “Let’s cut the playful circling short, huh? What’s your verdict on our team effort?”

He looked back out at the forests and roads, off to the soft glow of distant merriments still dying down. As exhausted as he was, there was only one answer. “It wasn’t nearly enough.”

Pyrite was not offended. She merely hummed in agreement next to him. “Yeah. But I don’t think we could have done enough.”

He watched her again. Her face was still happy, even lit with a glow of awe. But when she spoke again, her voice, while soft and sincere, was weighed down with anxiety.

“I’ve loved this place since the day I set foot in it,” she confessed. “But tonight… Ringing in the new year together, I just… I’ve never felt this way about any place I’ve been in my life. Tonight, for the first time in my life, I… think I’m ready to call this place home.”

He was glad to hear it. He had beat her to that one, but he knew it was a much bigger deal for her. Once upon a time, he had a game he considered home. She never really did.

“It is your home, now,” he agreed. “This is where you ought to be.”

Pyrite tried to smile at him, but her face fell troubled again a second after.

King Candy waited, but when she did not continue, he prompted, “What’s the deal?”

“I just…” she shook her head. “I expected it to feel better than it does. It’s a lot to handle. I love this place enough now that I couldn’t stand to lose it. Even more so than before. I don’t like feeling that way. It freaks me out.”

He tapped his finger thoughtfully. “We were never going to lose it in the first place. We swore to that already.”

“I know, but…” she looked at him, her eyes painfully vulnerable. “Swear to me again. Say we won’t lose this one. Please.”

His smile pulled into his cheek and he placed a steady hand on her wrist. “I swear we won’t lose this one. By the Devs, by Litwak, by the very Eight Bits, I can promise you that. Nothing’s gonna take this game from me, now. And I know nothing’s gonna take it from you.”

The anxiety in her eyes dissolved into affection, and she gave a single chuckle. “And let’s swear right now… 1998’s gonna be the start of the best years of our lives.”

“The start of the rest of our lives,” he corrected with a grin.

In silent, but whole agreement, she held out her pinky finger. “Swear on it?”

Scoffing at their age-old dorky tradition, he hooked his pinky over hers. “Swear.”

He had to resist the impulse to kiss her. Kissing Pyrite was strange, and she was never shy about how gross it was kissing King Candy.

There was real warmth in her smile for a moment, but that look of mischief made a sudden reappearance. She glanced out at the kingdom, then to her brush lying at her feet. Releasing his finger, she said, “Okay, okay, now watch this--” and took up her brush in her hands.

With a single slash across the air, she sent a crackling red firework hurtling into the sky, where it exploded into glimmering crimson embers. It was pretty, but it was nothing he had not seen from her before.

He looked at her quizzically. “I don’t get it.”

“Wait,” she held her hand out.

After a moment passed, he began to hear distant, muffled whistles, and with a great chorus of cracks and booms, the night lit up with fireworks scattered across the world below. The rainbow of lights shimmered off the shapes of hills and trees otherwise hidden in the dark. Just when he expected them to stop, the brilliant explosions kept on coming. It took him a shameful amount of time to realize the significance of the sight. He had seen her fireworks hundreds of times. But this time, she was not the one lighting them off.

When he looked at her again, she was grinning with a wicked sort of pride. She did something.

“What…?” he squinted.

“I taught the kids to use fireworks,” she shrugged with a smile.

“You taught the kids,” he echoed slowly, “to use fireworks.”

She just nodded.

At that, he could not help but break into laughter. That was so quintessentially her, it just filled him with so much affection that he could barely stand it. “And you had them on standby?”

“Yeah,” she grinned, “I told ‘em we had to give the king a proper goodnight to thank him for the awesome party.”

That just tore it.

Disguises be damned, he pulled her into a hug hard enough to squeeze a squeak out of her and gave a swift spin. Apparently, hugs were still okay, because she squeezed back just as hard, laughing all the while. He wheezed against her shoulder, “You’re just somethin’ else.”

Before too long, he pulled back enough to look at her. He was just about ready to go inside and finally slip out of their disguises, but the song she sang was stuck in his head, and it stirred up a pressing question.

“Hey,” he raised a brow.

She scoffed. “What?”

“How many a’ those million dreams does this place check off, huh?”

Pyrite looked caught off-guard, but to his surprise, she looked out at the night still sparkling with her lights, and pondered. Then she looked at him again, with a peculiar shine in her eye. Before he could respond, she pulled him away from the ledge. Her body crackled with red binary as she willingly glitched away her disguise, revealing that beautiful blue-eyed devil he fell in love with. Make-it Mavis.

Her hands raised to his face, and she sent a jolt of glitching through him to tear his royal disguise away. Finally, it was time to be Turbo again for a while.

“One,” she answered, smiling coyly.

He scoffed. “One?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, brushing her gloved thumbs over his cheekbones. “Just the one.”

With a firm tug, she pulled him into a real kiss, the sort that they had gone far too long without. The whole night’s joy swelled up in Turbo’s chest and he crushed her to him, lifting her toes from the floor just the slightest bit.

“Happy new year, loser,” she said once her lips were free.

“Hey,” he flashed a grin, tugging her along back into the royal chambers, locking the doors and pushing her back against them. “Night ain’t over yet.”

The fireworks outside still pounded jubilantly as they held onto each other. They were both exhausted, but could not bear to sleep and waste the time they had to be themselves, to be alone. If ‘98 was truly going to be the start of the rest of their lives, they had to keep doing everything they could to begin somewhere good.

‘Together’ was the best place they knew.

[all-the-love-harold]

The Daily Anna- Chapter 12

It’s here! and there’s no way it would have happened without @lovesmelikebrandnewstarlight and her endless support. 

There’s only three or four more chapters left of the story, so please let me know how you’re felling about it! 

Master Post 

Cheshire.

 When I was 18 I picked my life up and moved it to London, I even took my best friend with me, but my favourite part about moving away has always been coming home. Not because I hate living in London, that’s far from the truth, it’s because when I go home everything is calm and part of me feels like a kid again.

 Conveniently, Harry is also from Cheshire, in fact we grew up not far from each other and somehow our paths didn’t cross until we both lived in London. Funny how fate works.  

 We’ve been spending the last few weeks sharing ourselves between both of our families and it’s been really nice to hear Harry share stories about his childhood here, it’s funny how we both have such different experiences attached to the same places.

 It’s been nice to escape everything. I haven’t been to a single doctor’s appointment in the last two weeks and Harry hasn’t been in a studio. We don’t have any responsibilities when we’re back here and it’s nice to have that time together, without the stress of our real lives.

 We head back to London tomorrow though and our two weeks of Knutsford ice cream and afternoon snuggles will come to an end. I’ll go back to having a doctor's appointment every second day and Harry will go back to spending almost all of his time in the studio.

 Our little Cheshire adventure has come to a close, but next we head to Australia with our families, in honour of my little brother’s 18th birthday, so ‘The Daily Anna’ will once again become a travel blog.

 ***

Since her diagnosis Anna had been poked and prodded like there was no tomorrow, but it wasn’t for nothing, her kidney functions had improved tenfold since she started her treatment and she was starting to get her appetite back again although he diet was limited to clean foods that wouldn’t cause a build-up of toxins between treatments.

 She was on dialysis now, which meant that every second day she would go into The Royal London Hospital and sit there while a machine did her Kidney’s job for her. It wasn’t all bad though, The NHS had assigned her own nurse who she got along with very well. Her name was Beth and she was just about the sweetest old lady that she’d ever come across.

Beth’s entire job was to make sure that Anna was comfortable and sometimes that just meant sitting with her if Harry couldn’t. They talked about almost anything under the sun, Anna gave her the rundown on what it’s like to date a pop star and Beth told Anna about her time as a midwife and she was completely fascinated by it.

 The treatment started almost as soon as they’d arrived home from Cheshire and Harry made sure he went to all the appointments that he could. With the tour over now his main focus was his second album but that could wait for Anna to get better. Anna was beyond grateful for all the support that she was getting from her friends and family during all this. She was never short of company, there were even times when she had to tell people not to visit. Ronnie had developed a habit of hovering since he found out, and that was fine, until one day, it wasn’t.

****

Anna’s Dialysis took around three hours. Three hours of sitting in a chair and staring at a wall, so she was happy to get a text from Ronnie, saying that he was going to come and see her. Harry was already sitting there quietly responding to some emails and keeping quiet conversation with Anna. That was the beauty of their relationship, they could talk about anything and they could do it for hours but sometimes it was nice to have some other company.

Ronnie stormed into the Dialysis centre of the hospital, camera bag halfway unzipped with the camera hanging out of it, his glasses about to fall off his head

“Christ Ron, you look like you’ve been hit by a bus” Anna giggled

“So do you” he remarked back to her eyeing off the dialysis machine “What the fuck is that?”

“My robotic kidney’s” she giggled

“She’s basically the terminator now” Harry said, putting his phone away in his pocket.

“Right” Ronnie nodded unable to make eye contact with Harry. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get along with him, it was more that Harry was exactly where he wanted to be. He brushed it off as best he could and sat down next to Anna, opposite Harry.

“Busy day?” Anna asked, trying her best to keep the conversation going with the two of them.

“Big shoot” he nodded “with Mabel actually”

“Ahhh” Harry said fondly “How is she?”

“She’s great, fun to work with” Ronnie admitted “She got in contact with me after your gig actually”

“You’re welcome” Harry shrugged, a little arrogant smile appearing on his face. Anna cringed knowing that Ronnie would interpret that the opposite way to what Harry had intended. If he had though, he didn’t say anything, he simply shrugged and moved on and Anna had to admit she was quite impressed. She’d always known Ronnie to be the petty type, always overreacting to the smallest of triggers.

Anna’s nurse Beth, who would sit with her on the days that Harry wasn’t able to make it, made her way over to them the second she saw that Ronnie was sitting there.

“How are we going my dear?” She said warmly

“Feeling squeaky clean” Anna smiled

Beth shuffled behind Harry and checked on the machine that was currently attached to Anna with two big tubes in her left arm, one for the blood to go in, the other to take it out.

“You’ve still got a few hours left dear, can I get anyone anything, tea or coffee for the lads?”

“No thanks” Harry said with a charming smile on his face

“I’m ok” Ronnie nodded

“Is the famous photographer friend that took you to meet Prince Charming over here?” It was no secret that Beth thought Harry was wonderful and if she was thirty- or forty-years younger Anna might be worried about it, but she just found it endearing.

“Sure is” Anna nodded “this is Ronnie”

Ronnie shook Beth’s hand “nice to meet you” he smiled

“You too dear, I’ve heard a lot about you” she turned back to Anna “feeling alright dear?”

“Yeah” Anna nodded

“Great we’ll give me a buzz if you need anything, I’ll just be doing some paperwork over at the nurses station”

She left them sitting in silence and Harry reached over and put his hand on top of Anna’s in a comforting manner and she suddenly felt awkward. It was weird enough having Harry and Ronnie in the same room, but it was even weirder for that room to be in a hospital where she was having a machine do what her body couldn’t. It felt too personal. Too intimate having Ronnie there.

 “You guys can still have sex, right?” Ronnie asked out of nowhere

“Ron!” Anna said, taken aback by his forwardness

“Our sex life is just fine”. Harry’s voice was calm and unaffected by awkwardness that had just filled the room.

“I heard it took you awhile to put out for him though An”

“Drop it Ronnie” she glared at him with fire in her eyes

“Didn’t take you that long with me, did it?”

Harry blinked a few times, staring at Anna and then Ronnie. Did he hear that right?

“You should leave now Ronnie” Anna was blunt with her words and Ronnie knew that he’d crossed a line. He stood up and packed his things properly, before he turned and left the ward. Neither Harry or Anna spoke for a few minutes once he was gone, they both just started into space, not knowing what to say, but it was Harry who broke the silence.

“When?” is all he said

“Years ago,” Anna said quietly “It meant way more to him than it did to me. It was one time, but he hasn’t been with anyone since”

“So, he’s in love with you?”

“He’s not” she shook her head. “We’re just friends H”

“He definitely is” he said, “why else why would he still be around?”

“We’ve been friends since nursery Harry, he’s still around because it was one night”

“It’s a little strange An” he was still holding onto her hand so she knew he wasn’t mad but she could tell it bothered him, the way she guessed it would bother her if had had slept with someone he was that close to.

“Have you never slept with one of your friends?” she asked curiously, not to cause an argument but so that they could see eye to eye.

“Nope” he shook his head

“Never?” Anna sighed, in disbelief.

“Not even a kiss” he added

“It didn’t mean anything H”

“I know” he said, bring her hand up to his lips and kissing it softly “might have to thump the guy next time I see him though, so he doesn’t get any ideas”

“You wouldn’t do that” Anna smiled, making light of the whole thing “Please don’t hate me” she sighed

“We both have a past An, mine just isn’t my best friend”

“I know it’s complicated, and maybe he is in love with me just a little, but that’s where it ends”

“I trust you” Harry smiled “But I don’t know that I trust him”

“You don’t have to, you do have to tolerate him though”

***

Harry put his studio time on hold where he could to make sure that Anna was getting the care that she needed he wouldn’t be back into song writing mode until October.

As far as she’d come since starting her treatment, Anna wasn’t fully recovered and not yet able to miss three weeks if dialysis while they were gone, so Harry had taken on the responsibility of making sure that there was always a hospital close by and he’d even been in contact with a few specialists to make sure that Anna was getting the best care possible.

Everyone was going, Anne, Gemma, Debbie John, Gabby, even Ronnie had agreed to make the trip. For Timmy, of course.

Anna didn’t know if she was excited or nervous at this point, on one hand she was thrilled to be taking the trip with everyone she holds close to her heart, in honour of her brother, but on the other she wasn’t sure how it was all going to play out having everyone that close together for three weeks. Harry felt almost the same, he loved Anna, he wanted to do this all for her, but the thought of spending every day for the next three weeks with Ronnie made him cringe. He’d taken this flight only a few short months ago, but he’d forgotten just how long it took. A whole day. On a plane. With Ronnie. No wonder he was exhausted when they landed. But so was everyone else.

“I think we should just get dinner at the hotel restaurant tonight” Anne said, in the taxi on their way there “We can go exploring tomorrow”

Debbie nodded “Sounds good to me, Anna, Harry? Is that ok?”

“Sounds great Mum” Anna nodded with her head rested on Harry’s shoulder. Driving along she could see out the window and her heart fluttered as Sydney Harbour came into sight. She’d dreamt about this for years, of stepping off that plane and honouring her baby brother but she never thought it would be real, she never though she would get here. The sun was about to set over the harbour as it came into sight and Anna was taken away by its beauty. She’s seen it from the plane as they’d landed, but with the sun glistening off the water she really fell in love with the city that she’d been in for less than an hour.

Checking into the hotel was chaotic to say the least, it was already hard enough trying to get everyone sorted with so many of them there but then Harry was spotted by a few fans and what was already chaos turned into a disaster. It was Anne and Gemma that noticed them first, saying a quick hello in the hopes that that would be enough for them to leave. But of course, with Harry that close to them they weren’t going to leave without getting a picture. And in the middle of it all, Anna started to feel light headed. She knew the flight was going to knock it out of her, and she was due for another dialysis session in the morning, but right now she couldn’t stand up. She was standing out in the open, so she took a few deep breaths to centre herself and she leant up against her suitcase.

“Are you alright Anna?” Gemma said, a look of concern on her face

“Fine” Anna sighed, trying not to appear rude.

Ronnie’s arm snaked around Anna and all of her weight lent on him.

“I got you An” he said softly, “Hot shot over there just gave me the room key, let’s get you some proper rest”

At that Gemma dropped her suitcase and wrapped her arm around the other side of Anna so that she didn’t fall.

The rooms were stunning and as much as Anna wanted to stare out the window, she needed to lay down. She passed out almost immediately and she didn’t know how long Gemma and Ronnie hung around for, because when she woke up they were gone, and she could hear the shower running in the bathroom. She was feeling much better now, although dinner did feel like the least appealing thing and she was sure that’s why Harry was in the shower. The room was dark now, light only by the faint light coming from under the bathroom door and the city lights that surrounded the building. Anna sat up and rubbed her eyes while she searched for the glass of water that she vaguely remembered Ronnie putting next to her.

“You’re awake” Harry’s voice echoed around the room

“I am” her voice was still croaky with sleep

“How are you feeling?” His towel was wrapped around his hips and he made his way over to sit next to her on the bed.

“Much better” she smiled

“Good” he kissed her on the top of her head “I called the hospital while you were sleeping, we can go in any time after 8 am tomorrow”

“Thanks H, we should aim to be there by 8:30 so we don’t waste the whole day” Anna said, finally finding the water and taking a sip. She hated that half of this trip was going to be spent in a hospital, but she knew that there was no way she’d make it through three weeks without treatment.

“Sounds good,” he nodded “Dinner's at 7 so we should get ready”

Anna looked over at the clock and it was already 6:45 which meant that she didn’t have time to shower. Grateful that she’d packed face wipes and deodorant in easily accessible areas of her luggage she was able to get ready with five minutes to spare and manage to look half decent. Naps really were wonderful things, she thought to herself as her and Harry stepped out of the room and into the lift.

The hotel restaurant was quiet, the only table reserved was their own, but Anna had a sneaking suspicion that harry had paid to have it closed to the public tonight, so that they could have a little peace and quiet. They were the last to arrive and everyone else had already decided what to order.

“What are you going to have An?” Harry asked scanning over the menu

“I’m not that hungry H, I’ll just pick at yours if that’s ok?”

“That’s fine” he said, although he was concerned that her appetite had disappeared again “I think I’ll get the seafood basket”

They ordered, and conversation remained light between all of them. Harry and Ronnie were sat at opposite ends of the table, so there was no reason for them to start bickering and Anna had the chance to properly talk to her dad for the first time since they got on the plane yesterday.

 When everyone’s  food arrived Anne raised her glass, “To those we’ve loved and lost, and to good health” she winked at Anna.

Everyone followed suit and raised their glasses in a toast and then they started eating, silently for the most part until someone would occasionally speak up about how delicious their meal was.

Gemma broke the trend and dove in deep “Tell us about Timmy” she said sweetly

“Bravest eight-year-old I’ve ever known” Anna said quietly. This was something that had only dawned on her since she started her treatment, when he was sick she remembered everyone always telling him how brave he must be, but she never really understood just how scared he must have been, fuck, she was scared, and she understood everything that was happening to her, there was no way that he did.

Gabby nodded in agreement with Anna “He never let on that he was in pain”

“He was more than his illness though” Debbie added, “He was the sweetest little boy in the playground, always there to make sure everyone was ok. I was so proud of who he was” tears were filling her eyes and she picked up her napkin to wipe them away. Anna did the same and Harry hovered his hand over her lap, under the table until he found her knee and gently squeezed.

“He would have loved this” Anna said “having everyone together like this would have made him so happy”

“I’m sorry that we never got to meet him” Anne said “he sounds like an angel”

“Our little superhero” Gabby smiled

“Why Australia?” Anne asked sensitively

“He was fascinated by the animals, and I promised by fourteen-year-old self that I’d get here one day to see what he never got to” Anna said with tears forming in her eyes. It was strange to be feeling sad about Timmy’s death again, for years she’d been numb to it and then after months of therapy, she chose to remember only the happy things. Timmy as her energetic eight-year-old brother, rather than Timmy as her dead baby brother.

Gemma could sense the tone of the conversation becoming less than happy and raised her glass again

“To Timmy” she smiled “Our superhero”

[hypersensitiveheart]

Questions for fun

All about me  1: Full name: Duchess is the only name I give online 2: Age: 30  3: 3 Fears: Men, Pigs, bugs 4: 3 things I love: JJBA, sweet foods, Soda 5: 4 turns on: Intelligence, Common sense, Well Read, Sense of Humor .6: 4 turns off: Arrogance, Rudeness, Drug use, Drinking  7: My best friend: He-man ( My husband), And Wonder Woman (My mother) 8: Sexual orientation: Demisexual 9: My best first date: My first date with He-man, at our local mall 10: How tall am I: Tiny. Three inches over five feet. 11: What do I miss: My grandma. 12: What time were I born: 11 am. Which is weird considering I hate mornings and mostly sleep through them.  13: Favourite color: Blue  14: Do I have a crush: He-Man, Jotaro, Sabretooth, And many other fictional characters.  15: Favourite quote:  16: Favourite place: My sisters house.  17: Favourite food: Tacos  18: Do I use sarcasm: So often that I am always asked if I am serious or not.  19: What am I listening to right now: Motley Crue .20: First thing I notice in new person: Eyes. Height.  21: Shoe size: 9  22: Eye color: Greyish Blue 23: Hair color: Now, light brown, natural Blonde.  24: Favourite style of clothing: Comfy, or punk.  25: Ever done a prank call?: No.  27: Meaning behind my URL: Simply, my name for my blog.  28: Favourite movie: I have many so I’ll just pick one this time and say Boo York, Boo York.  29: Favourite song: True Colors- Cyndi Lauper, My idol.  30: Favourite band: Blondie 31: How I feel right now: Not great.  32: Someone I love: Opal.  33: My current relationship status: Married 34: My relationship with my parents: Great. We all love each other and live together.  35: Favourite holiday: Christmas.  36: Tattoos and piercing i have: 3 tattoos, 3 piercings. 37: Tattoos and piercing i want: I don’t want any more piecings, but many more tattoos.  38: The reason I joined Tumblr: My friend showed it to me, back in like 2009? 39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?: He didn’t love me, like at all, but I was crazy about him for years. I should have the word idiot tattooed on me.  40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?: No.  41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?: Considering it was He-man, yes I did.  42: When did I last hold hands?: Walking with He-man Saturday 43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?: I’ve never timed it. I wake up, Brush my hair ETC. I don’t wear make up and usually just put my hair in a pony tail.  44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?: No.  45: Where am I right now?: My home.  46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?: I don’t drink.  47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?: I do both depending on what mood I am in.  48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?: Yes, and we couldn’t be happier to be together.  49: Am I excited for anything?: No.  50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?: He-man.  51: How often do I wear a fake smile?: Not very often. I’m not the best at hiding my emotions.  52: When was the last time I hugged someone?: Like 30 minutes ago.  53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?: Probably immediately die from a broken heart.  54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?: No. I barley trust anyone. There’s a reason I don’t ever put my photo on the internet, and it is not what people would think it is.  55: What is something I disliked about today?: Everything. But I’m trying to turn a negative into a positive.  56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?: A respectable Pastor, who is not a snake oil salesman like all the ones I’ve met, who I could actually talk to.  57: What do I think about most?: He-man, and Wonder Woman. Also I’m haunted. So that takes up a lot of time.  58: What’s my strangest talent?: I can bend my toes backwards.  59: Do I have any strange phobias?: Pigs. Bugs. Water, all sea life.  60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?: Behind. I refuse to have my photo taken.  61: What was the last lie I told?: I’m okay.  62: Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online?: Neither. Texting or instant messenger.  63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Ghosts, yes I’ve seen them. Aliens, I have no clue, and don’t honestly care. 64: Do I believe in magic?: Certain types of it yes.  65: Do I believe in luck?: YES! And I only say this with such assurance because I have the worst luck in the entire universe.  66: What’s the weather like right now?: Sunny. It’s disgusting. Where is the rain, and dreary days I love so much.  67: What was the last book I’ve read?: Mara Wilson’s book.  68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?: No.  69: Do I have any nicknames?: Yeah.  70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?: I’m having a complete hysterectomy, with removal of the ovaries and tubes so I’m assuming that will be it.  71: Do I spend money or save it?: I don’t have any to do either.  72: Can I touch my nose with a tounge?: The very bottom.  73: Is there anything pink in 10 feets from me?:Yes 74: Favourite animal?: Swan 75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?: Reading 76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?: Sample.  77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?: Heart of glass- Blondie 78: How can you win my heart?: It belongs to He-man. Sorry. 79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?: Finally Free. 80: What is my favorite word?: Pamplemousse  81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr: I don’t know.  82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?: Love each other. Be kind. Stop all the hatred.  83: Do I have any relatives in jail?: Yes, I also have quite a few that belong there, and have been in and out their whole adult life.  84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?: Flight.  85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?: What do you look like.  86: What is my current desktop picture?: Monster high 87: Had sex?: Yes 88: Bought condoms?: Yes 89: Gotten pregnant?: No 90: Failed a class?: Yes91: Kissed a boy?: Yes 92: Kissed a girl?: Yes 93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?: Maybe? It wasn’t anything romantic.  94: Had job?: Yes .95: Left the house without my wallet?: Yes 96: Bullied someone on the internet?: No.  97: Had sex in public?: No 98: Played on a sports team?: yes 99: Smoked weed?: Yes 100: Did drugs?: No 101: Smoked cigarettes?: Yes 102: Drank alcohol?: I have before, but I really don’t like the taste 103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?: No. I don’t like meat, but there is some certain types that I will eat.  104: Been overweight?: Yes.  105: Been underweight?: no. 106: Been to a wedding?: Yes 107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?: Yes, I’m a writer.  108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?: Yes 109: Been outside my home country?: No 110: Gotten my heart broken?: Yes 111: Been to a professional sports game?: A college basketball game. 112: Broken a bone?: Toes 113: Cut myself?: Yes 114: Been to prom?: Yes 115: Been in airplane?:no 116: Fly by helicopter?: No 117: What concerts have I been to?: I saw ted nugent play at our county fair. 118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?: No 119: Learned another language?:no 120: Wore make up?: Yes 121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?: no 122: Had oral sex?: Yes 123: Dyed my hair?: Oh god yes.  124: Voted in a presidential election?: Yes 125: Rode in an ambulance?: No 126: Had a surgery?: Yes 127: Met someone famous?: Locally famous, yes.  128: Stalked someone on a social network?: No 129: Peed outside?: No 130: Been fishing?: Yes 131: Helped with charity?: Yes 132: Been rejected by a crush?: yes 133: Broken a mirror?: Yes 134: What do I want for birthday?: I already had mine this year.  135: How many kids do I want and what will be their names?: None. 136: Was I named after anyone?: My grandmother and my aunt suzi and I all share the same middle name. 137: Do I like my handwriting?: no 138: What was my favourite toy as a child?: Polly pocket and my little pony toys 139: Favourite Tv Show?: Matlock 140: Where do I want to live when older?: Who knows. 141: Play any musical instrument?: No.  142: One of my scars, how did I get it?: I have one scar on my leg from when a dog ripped me open and took out a big hunk.  143: Favourite pizza toping?: Extra Cheese 144: Am I afraid of the dark?: Sometimes. 145: Am I afraid of heights?: Somtimes 146: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?: Yup 147: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?: Story  of my life yo.  148: What I’m really bad at: Math 149: What my greatest achievments are: A happy Marriage.  150: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me: There’s too many of these to pick. I get told something like this every single day of my life.  151: What I’d do if I won in a lottery: pay debt, buy a house.  152: What do I like about myself: I have good hair.  153: My closest Tumblr friend: Taima.  154: Something I fantasise about: Flying.  155: Any question you’d like?: No thank you. �㫲���kS�}

[evescole]

So It Goes... // Peter Parker

word count: 1,421

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: flirty flirty flirty (like wow), cursing, i didn’t proof read lol

summary: you’re fed up with peter’s excuses and lack of presence so you decide to get his attention the same way you did the first time.

a/n: so i’m sorry, again, that i disappear off the earth. i’m a busy nugget right now so i’m doing my best to keep up with everything. this is kinda a part two for End Game but can be read alone. also, with the reputation series, they’re each kinda their own story. it’s not like each one follows into the next, if that makes sense. idk how to describe it. hope this is good! 

part of the reputation series

masterlist

ask me stuff

--

A few months into your relationship with Peter and things started falling apart. You didn’t want to admit it, but it was crumbling to pieces right in your hands. You had grown tired of the constant excuses, missed dates, and the obvious lies. Peter wasn’t the same kid anymore and it broke your heart.

You threw the apartment door shut after another failed date before stomping into the kitchen. You couldn’t even bother crying anymore. You had expected it as soon as you walked in the restaurant so you couldn’t say you were surprised. There wasn’t a text, wasn’t a call. He just, as usual, ditched.

You ripped a carton of your favorite ice cream out of the freezer and left it on the counter to thaw for a bit as you changed. As soon as you walked into your bedroom, you froze. MJ thought it would be funny to buy you a new outfit, quite a revealing one, after you took her on a shopping trip for her birthday. It was laying across your bed, the black, skin tight fabric taunting.

Smiling to yourself, you grabbed the clothing from its spot while yelling for Siri to call MJ. You went into the bathroom and flicked the light on as your phone started calling MJ in your hand. Looking across the counter, you grabbed a tube of red lipstick, smirking at the color.

“Y/N, what’s up? How was your date?” Michelle’s voice crackled through your phone speakers.

You kept your eyes on the tube of makeup in your hand. “MJ, how fast can you get over here?”

You heard her hum in thought before she responded, “Ten minutes, tops. Why? Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” You chuckled, setting the lipstick down. “Just get here quick. Oh, and bring the hair dye.”

“Hell yes! Y/N Y/L/N, I fucking love you!” She shouted into the phone before hanging up on you.

Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you nodded to yourself. “Time to end this game, once and for all.”

--

MJ made it to your apartment in record time -- “See Y/N, I only took nine minutes!” -- and she was more than ready to jump on board with your plan. It wasn’t long before the apartment smelled like hair dye and various candles you dug out from the closet.

Some song by The 1975 blared from the bluetooth speaker MJ had grabbed, the sound echoing throughout the whole floor. She hummed along, shouting lyrics here and there, as she began curling your hair. You did your best not to move as you started on your makeup, trying to keep everything precise and even.

Thirty minutes later, Michelle was throwing her stuff back in her bag as you looked over your appearance in the mirror.

“I owe you, yet again, MJ.” You smiled at her as you leaned against the wall.

She looked up, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. “It’s my job, Y/N. You don’t owe me anything.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, twirling your hair around your finger. She gave you a reassuring grin before looking back at the ground to make sure she had everything. You glanced over the bathroom counter to make sure you cleaned everything up from the rushed makeover. Your eyes landed on the familiar object resting in the corner.

“All ready?” Michelle asked as she stood up, watching you through the mirror.

A smile formed on your face as you picked the black tube up. “One last thing, actually.”

And with that, the red lipstick cap was off.

--

Peter Parker had been through a lot of tough situations. He was a superhero after all. He’d battled countless villains, given hundreds of elderly directions, and received plenty of churros for his favors.

Despite all these events, Peter could verify that he was terrified, more terrified than he had ever been in his life, as he walked up the stairs to your apartment. He knew he messed up and he knew it was bad. He kept running every situation through his mind and they all ended up with you leaving him.

His hand was absolutely shaking as he knocked on your door. He knew there was a key in his pocket that you had given him but it just didn’t seem right at the moment. You were going to be through the roof.

Peter stood there for a good thirty seconds, maybe more, without an answer. He knocked again, this time leaning against the door. “Y/N? I know I messed up, okay. Will you please let me in?”

If it weren’t for his stupid enhanced abilities, he wouldn’t have been able to hear the click of the lock, yet he did. He took a deep breath before twisting the knob and pushing the door open to let himself in.

“Y/N? Are you in-” Peter lost the ability to talk as soon as the door shut behind him. No, he didn’t wimp out. He just wasn’t ready for the sight in front of him.

You had your boyfriend right where you wanted him. Leaning against the wall, you bit your lip as you took in his appearance. His normal science t-shirt stuck to his sweaty body, leaving you to guess that he ran here. The way his hands shook at his side told you he was nervous. You were the cat and he was the mouse. Unfortunately for him, you were hungry.

“Peter,” You kept your voice steady as you pushed off the wall. “Glad you could finally make it.”

Peter’s eyes scanned your body, drinking in every detail. He notice the tight, black dress covering your skin, the black heels on your feet. What his eyes really focused on, the deathly red lipstick that painted your lips.

“You dy-dyed your ha-hair again,” He stuttered, trying to start a normal conversation.

You nodded, pursing your lips. “You noticed.”

Peter nodded dramatically. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Taking the initiative, you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the couch before forcing his body on the furniture. He gasped at the action, eyes darting to meet yours.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He asked shakily.

You smirked, leaning closer to his ear as you straddled his hips. “Just making sure you’re okay, babe.”

“You’re making me nervous, Y/N,” He admitted, looking over your shoulder. “I know I messed up but-”

You shook your head, pressing a finger to his lips. “Ah, ah. Don’t talk. You don’t get to talk.” You pressed your lips against his neck as you spoke. “You ditched me again, Peter.”

Peter’s muscled form tensed beneath you as you continued your assault on his skin. “I-I know. I’m so-sorry.”

“You better be,” You mumbled, whispering against him. “You’re hiding secrets, Parker. Why can’t you tell me?”

Peter fought to whimper beneath your touch. He knew his cheeks were bright red as you teased him but he didn’t dare stop you. “B-because. I can’t.”

“Aw,” You pouted, sitting on his thighs completely as his hands grabbed your waist. “You know, it’s not fun to keep secrets.”

“Y/N.” His eyes widened as you tilted your head. “What are you doing?”

Your hand moved forward, caressing his cheek lightly. “You know, I’m not a bad girl but I do bad things with you.”

And then, Peter understood. This was you getting back at him. You were fed up, frustrated, and just wanted some attention. He had done a number on you, whether it was missed dates, forgotten calls, or left-on-read texts. He deserved the lipstick littering his skin, the harsh remarks. He knew he did.

“You’re mad at me,” He mumbled, grabbing your wrist to finally stop your actions. “I know you are.”

You shrugged. “So it goes. If you want me to be yours to keep, yours to lose, you better start acting like it, Parker. I deserve to be fought for.”

Peter watched you get up, leaving him with pink cheeks and short of breath. He watched as you moved towards the hallway, the sway still in your hips as your curls swished back and forth against your shoulders.

The teen stood up from his spot, licking his dry lips slightly. He had to make it up to you, he knew that. Kicking his shoes off, his hands practically tore his shirt off his head as he slowly started after you. He had to make it up to you, and he was going to start right now.

[ienveeus]

namgi high school au

Part of my ongoing, non-linear  High School AU series

- 5th June, 2011   -          2nd December, 2010   -     21st October, 2011 - - 20th June, 2011       -        1st January, 2011       -       7th July, 2011 - - 18th February, 2011  -

HAVEN’T POSTED ANYTHING FOR THIS IN AGES BUT IT IS STILL IN FACT A THING HRGUIDHU

Here we go with part seven! 

18th February, 2011

‘Truth or dare?’

Yoongi can’t help but snort at Namjoon’s question. Can’t remember the last time he heard it, perhaps a couple years back in middle school, when everyone was a lot more interested in who likes who. Or perhaps when they were just a whole lot less subtle about it.

‘Truth or dare?’ Yoongi parrots back, tossing Namjoon a look in his peripherals. He sits with his back pressed against the side of the pick up truck’s trailer, Yoongi’s opted to lie down, feels a lone screw digging into his back but he doesn’t shift to remove it. ‘That’s what you’re going for? Pictured you more as the kinda guy to lie back and make up a bunch of constellations and all the stories to go with them.’

‘There’s no stars out tonight,’ Namjoon shrugs. ‘And even if there were, I don’t know any constellations.’

‘Really?’ Yoongi sits up, flicking the screw aside as he does so. ‘Figured you were the type.’

‘Always one to assume.’ Namjoon’s teeth glint in the moonlight. ‘Truth or dare?’

Yoongi shrugs. What’s the worst that could happen? ‘Dare.’

A low whistle splits the air between them, Namjoon looks positively delighted, cocking his head to the side as he surveys Yoongi’s face.

‘Brave of you.’

A seed of doubt wedges into Yoongi’s mind, increasing when Namjoon shuffles off to the side retrieving his bag and digging through the contents. When he turns back, he's got a wide grin on his face and something in his hand. Yoongi has to squint, and can't help but scoff when he sees the contents.

'And what are you planning on doing with that?' Yoongi cocks his head at what looks like something his mother would have in her ensuite, a purse of sorts, open so Yoongi can see that the contents are all various types of make up.

Namjoon's grin widens. 'Let me do your make up.'

'You're joking.'

'Nope,' Namjoon pops the 'p.' Wanna see what you'd look like.'

Yoongi watches Namjoon's fingers like a hawk, eyes narrowed in skepticism as they come across what Yoongi pins as mascara or something equally black and garish that won't come off easy.

'You're just gonna draw a giant dick on my face or something aren't you?' Yoongi mutters, beginning to regret this whole picking dare business.

Namjoon snorts and pulls out a little tube of something that Yoongi can't place. 'You picked dare, you're gonna have to bare the consequences.'

Out of fear of being labelled a wimp, Yoongi presses his lips closed and leans forward, allowing Namjoon to cup his chin and lean close into his space. He squeezes the little tube and squirts out a dollop of the liquid onto his finger, dabbing it on Yoongi's cheeks and under-eyes, the bridge of his nose and all the rest. It's a wonder Yoongi manages to hold himself together. The proximity between them non-existent and he has no idea where to put his eyes with Namjoon this close, sharing his airway, closer than he's been to any boy that isn't family.

'Not the best lighting,' Namjoon mutters to himself, pulling out a bottle of something and dabbing a fair amount on his hand. He's got a brush out, and begins painting the liquid over Yoongi's face, instructing him not to scrunch his nose at the chill.

'Don't blame the lack of lighting on your inability to do this.'

'I'll have you know I know my way around this bag of goodness.'

Yoongi huffs out a sigh, closing his eyes as Namjoon nears them with the brush. 'Shut up and get this over with.'

'Of course, your majesty.'

The closeness doesn't get any easier to handle. Yoongi keeps his eyes closed the majority of the time and hopes whatever substance Namjoon's painted his cheeks with is enough to cover the pink tinge that now permanently resides there. He goes over his work with a powder, brushes something across his eyelids and forces Yoongi's eyes open when the mascara finally makes an appearance in the way it's meant to be used as opposed to what Yoongi's ass friends might do.

There's a small argument when Namjoon comes at him with tweezers, insisting that plucking Yoongi's eyebrows is part of the dare but Yoongi is having none of that bullshit. When Namjoon huffs he blows his cheeks out and Yoongi refuses to think about how cute that is when Namjoon mutters about putting him in black lipstick now due to him being a shit.

When that's done and Namjoon's made him smack his lips together, touching up some little things he pulls out his phone, turns on the front camera and makes Yoongi look.

'Shit,' Yoongi hisses, not recognising the person staring back at him. In this lighting he looks so dark, like he imagines a twin sister of his might look like if she went through a goth phase. 'You actually did this seriously.'

Namjoon shrugs. 'Told you. Wanted to see what you'd look like. Now let me take a picture.'

Yoongi stiffens, glaring at him. 'No fucking way.'

'You're no fun at all.' He points a finger at Yoongi, eyes twinkling in the scant light. 'Your turn, sweetheart.'

Yoongi huffs, thankful his dignity is preserved for a little longer at least and there shouldn't be any remnants of this come morning. 'Truth or dare?'

'Truth.'

'Why do you have so much make up in your bag?'

'It was a thing I bought for Seokjin when he was in the school play last year, liked me doing his make up for him before shows. Now I just keep it around in my bag for times like this.'

'You're weird,' Yoongi says.

'And you're pretty,' Namjoon says without missing a beat. If he notices the struck look Yoongi gives him, he ignores it in favour of asking, 'Truth or dare?'

It carries on like this for awhile. Yoongi flicking between the two, whilst Namjoon takes a liking to dares. Namjoon asks about his most embarrassing moment, dares him to dance to a girl group song (this takes a lot of convincing) asks him about his first kiss. Yoongi gets Namjoon to text Seokjin a love confession, gives him a moustache with the mascara and has him do his own make up without the help of a mirror.

'Have you ever been in love?' Yoongi asks when Namjoon picks truth. He'd been running out of options, exhausting himself with trying to come up with something and in the end, curiosity had won out over appearing cool. Not like Namjoon gave a shit about images anyway, that was his whole thing.

Namjoon blinks at him, caught off guard by the question.

'Hard to say,' he says. 'I think I might've been. Been in a few relationships and I always get like, really involved, y'know? And I like them a lot. I told them I loved them and I think at the time I believed it but then looking back.' Namjoon shrugs. 'I don't know. It's really hard to say.'

Yoongi nods, biting his tongue from asking more questions. He tries to see if Namjoon looks uncomfortable with the intrusion, because it feels like it might've been. But Namjoon looks more thoughtful as he draws patterns into the dust. When he looks up, his eyes pierce straight into Yoongi's and Yoongi tries not to jolt in time with his heart.

'Truth or dare?' Namjoon asks.

Yoongi swallows hard. 'Truth.'

'What about you?'

'What about me?'

'Have you ever been in love?'

It's Yoongi's turn to wear the struck dumb expression. His eyebrows shoot up, face feeling strange under the cake of make up he feels like he's drowning in. Namjoon stares at him, a challenge in his eyes and Yoongi frowns.

'That's cheating.'

'How so?' Namjoon says. 'No rules against it. Pretty sure you just have to do the dares and answer the truths truthfully. Straight forward.'

'It's boring then,' Yoongi says with a huff. He doesn't even know why he's making a deal out of this. It's a simple enough question, the answer not all that incriminating. But he thinks, anything relating to the subject of sexuality, or romance are the danger areas. He can't help but squirm at the mention of them.

'I haven't been,' Yoongi says, 'if you have to know. Haven't even dated a girl before. And I'm not really the type to waste time pining.'

'Never dated a girl you say?' Namjoon says and there's a very thin veil masking the amusement in his voice. 'What about a boy then?'

Yoongi flinches as if Namjoon's thrown a punch his way. He brushes it off quickly, scoffs, but really he doesn't know how seriously Namjoon can take him considering the very definite pause before his response and the shit Namjoon's pulled on his face.

'Very funny, asshole.' He wonders if Namjoon can hear the strain in his voice or hear his heartbeat from the short distance between them. A distance Yoongi wants to increase in the passing seconds. Maybe. His head feels a tad fuzzy, 'What the fuck is this sneaking another question in shit? That's cheating.'

'Okay, okay, fair enough. I'll give you two goes for me then. Happy?'

Yoongi pulls his lips into a thin line. 'Peachy.'

'Then go ahead. I pick truth.'

Yoongi wracks his brain, mind flitting about in search of something. Namjoon watches him closely, still so amused, eyes twinkling as if to replace the lack of stars up in the night sky. Yoongi feels out of his depth suddenly. Isn't quite sure why but it feels like he's stepped into some territory that he might have a challenge navigating through.

'Is it true you had a thing with Mr. Kwon?'

Namjoon lets out a loud laugh. 'He's like. In his fifties.'

'Rumours say you don't care.'

'Rumours are wrong I'm afraid. God the things people come up with... Did you really believe it?'

Yoongi shrugs. 'You're something of an anomaly, Kim Namjoon. I can never be sure what to believe.'

Namjoon hums, looking contemplative. He turns so he's looking at Yoongi face on, rests his head on the edge of the trailer. 'Round two then, pretty boy, come on now.'

The name has electricity zipping up Yoongi's spine but he brushes it off as the chill in the air, clears his throat to keep his voice from shaking.

‘Truth or dare?’ he asks.

‘Dare.’

Namjoon has shuffled close. So damn close that Yoongi can feel his breath on his cheek and shudders like there's insects crawling all over him. He wracks his brains for something, but Namjoon's proximity has rendered him incapable of forming a coherent thought.

'My dares are lame. I can't think of anything.'

'I can think of a dozen things.'

Namjoon's coming onto him. Yoongi was fucking right and Namjoon is coming onto him. Does he do this with everyone he spends time with? All the boys and girls and whatever other people Namjoon is into.

'Are you only into guys?'

The question comes unbidden, Yoongi's voice a squeak of a thing. Namjoon's shoulders lift as he snorts, shuffling back and giving Yoongi room to think.

‘I picked dare.’

‘I told you, I couldn’t think of anything.’

Namjoon takes his time staring, trying to read through the cracks in Yoongi’s annoyance. Yoongi’s sure it can’t be too hard, Namjoon has the eyes of a hawk and those cracks are as wide as chasms.

'No,' he says. 'I've dated a woman, kissed a few girls before and liked it. I don't really have a preference I think. Just met more guys that caught my interest is all.'

Yoongi nods, feeling heat in his cheeks as Namjoon’s eyes flick over to him again. He can’t hold the gaze for too long and is all too aware of the fact that it’s Namjoon’s turn to ask now.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Yoongi suppresses a shudder. He’d been quick to label the game stupid and juvenile, but it’s crossed into dangerous territory now. When Namjoon asks the dreaded question this time, all Yoongi can think about is their proximity, the ease in which Namjoon said he could think of a dozen things for a dare in that damn low voice of his.

Yoongi picks truth, out of fear, because maybe there is something here and Namjoon knows it, but he’s in no way ready for any of it. Can't even put words to what this is.

Namjoon smiles and Yoongi can see the dimples in his cheeks even in the scarce lighting.

‘Tell me a secret you’ve never told anyone.’

Oh no.

Yoongi likes to think he’s blunt and some would say that that leans more towards being a weakness. Yoongi disagrees, he likes being blunt, likes that he’s the kinda person that can speak his mind and people come to trust that’s his truth.

Yoongi is also a liar, something that contrasts a lot with the former characteristic, something he doesn’t like all that much about himself but knows is sometimes necessary. This is one of those scenarios in which he could be a liar. One where he could lie and come up with some bullshit thing about how he shoplifted when he was twelve or snuck soju from the fridge at his mother’s New Year’s party.

He could even tell a half-truth. Pretend that he hadn’t told his brother about the time he fooled around with Sujin and she’d let him feel her up under her shirt. He’d leave out the part where it did nothing for him, tell Namjoon that it had felt good and he'd been super into it and he hadn't told anyone to be respectful to her. Another half-truth. He knows the sorta shit that spreads about girls who let guys do things like that, how she'd be downcast and he'd be applauded for being such a man. Namjoon would probably respect that.

But Yoongi looks up at Namjoon and he feels his heart thump with the tell-tale signs of fear. Has the overwhelming urge to start running in any direction to get as far from Namjoon as he possibly can. So he does the one thing he can think to do and closes up.

‘This game is stupid,’ Yoongi says.

‘Oh shit,’ Namjoon laughs, ‘you must be hiding something big, huh?’

‘I’m not hiding shit, alright? This game is just stupid. I'm over it.'

'You're making this a way bigger deal than it has to be,' Namjoon says with that same carefree attitude that Yoongi is beginning to resent. 'You asked me all sorts of things and I answered. Come on.'

‘Why do you care so much?’

‘Because you’ve got me intrigued. What is it? Surely it’s not that bad.’

Yoongi ducks his head, using the back of his hand to swipe all the makeup from his face. ‘Would you drop it already?’

Namjoon’s grin is lost in the darkness, and Yoongi can’t help but imagine a cruel twist to it when he says. ‘No way.’

'You're being ridiculous.'

'Says the one literally avoiding a very simple question. C'mon what have you got?'

'Nothing.'

'Bullshit. C'mon some kiss and tell thing? Got some dirty pictures hidden under your pillow? Got drunk last New Year's and kissed someone you wished you didn't?'

Yoongi clenches his fists, feels the urge to tighten in on himself or swing at Namjoon or something. 'Namjoon, seriously, drop it.'

'You realise it's me, right? I couldn't give less of a shit about what you get up to and this is too good to let up so you might as well just--'

‘I’m gay, alright?’ Yoongi hisses, and then without warning, he bursts into tears.

It's mortifying and that realisation only makes the whole thing so much worse. Yoongi isn't in the habit of crying. Doesn't want people to see him like this, especially not Namjoon, the dumb fearless asshole that Yoongi's just confessed his biggest secret to. He shuffles into the corner of the tray, curling in on himself as best he can and hiding his face. He doesn't want anyone to see him like this. He doesn't want Namjoon bare witness to his stupid stupid meltdown.

In the silence that follows, Yoongi feels small and vulnerable, sick with the entire situation. He can't help the way he shrinks when Namjoon reaches out to him, the stupid noise he lets out like Namjoon's moved to punch him or something.

‘Please don’t touch me,’ Yoongi says, can’t be sure whether he’d lash out or melt into it and sob all the harder. Isn’t sure which would be worse.

‘You’ve never told anyone before?’ Namjoon asks, gently broaching the silence with all the teasing mirth from before gone from his voice. Yoongi shakes his head, face still buried in his arms so he won’t have to see whatever look is on Namjoon’s face. 'Hey it's okay. You're alright. I get it, it's scary saying it out loud, huh?'

Yoongi nods weakly, shuffling further into his miserable little corner.

'Shit, hyung,' Namjoon winces. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed like that.'

There's a snappy response there, right for the taking, but Yoongi's too messed up to take it. His breathing's evened out a little at least and he no longer feels like he's gonna choke on his own vomit at any given moment.

'You're okay,' Namjoon says. 'I mean it, I really don't care what you are. I mean it's me, I'm not straight either. Not that it's about me but. Shit, Yoongi, I'm really sorry. Please don't cry.'

'I'm not crying,' Yoongi says, in a voice that perfectly indicates how hard he is lying right now. He sniffs, wiping his face in the crook of his elbow before looking up and over at Namjoon's face screwed up in apology.

'I really am sorry, hyung,' he says.

The world has not imploded on itself. No-one is screaming at him. Namjoon isn't looking at him with all the disgust Yoongi's felt towards himself ever since he discovered how to delete his internet history years back. It's not going how he thought it would, and granted this wasn't the way he wanted to come out but on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst imaginable scenario, this is about a four.

Even so, Yoongi feels drained and despite the apologies, he can't help but feel a slight grudging feeling towards Namjoon. Doesn't want to be out here anymore.

'C'mon,' Yoongi says, shuffling out the back of the truck, nudging Namjoon on his way. His feet hit the ground and he walks around, throwing the door open. 'I'll take you home.'

'Yoongi--'

'Namjoon.' Yoongi sighs through grit teeth, fingers clenching around the door. 'I don't wanna talk about this right now.'

Silence hangs between them before Namjoon nods his head, beginning to shuffle out. 'Alright, hyung, alright.'

On the way home, the truck is silent except for the dull murmur of music dribbling out from the car radio.

[neelimasadanand]

What Is Up With Me

A year since medication began. And in its wonderful and weird ways, the universe has brought more mental health soldiers into my life this past year than ever before. And if there’s one of thing I’m more sure of now than ever - it’s the sheer power of being in an environment that shows you empathy. A few interactions I’ve had and a few I’ve watched my mutual have, push me to say this upfront – if you’ve been a part of my life and you have only ever seen my pixie level energy and my smiles and my love – know that this doesn’t mean I couldn’t come to you with my issues. In fact, it means you’re a constant source of happy to my pixie heart. And that Neelima is very real. She’s just not all there is in this tiny person.

I’ve been diagnosed with chronic anxiety and depression with dissociative tendencies. Now I wish I could condense what that means about me as a person but I’m still figuring out my patterns, so just stay with my while I blabber, yes?

I’m a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. And it happened between 4th-6th grade by the hands of a trusted family member. So I had no idea what had happened. My first exposure to mental health disorders was as a psychology student in 1st year college. This means between primary school and college, I went from not knowing something had happened, it had affected my personality and that I had developed coping mechanisms; to suddenly having my jigsaw pieces put into place. Unfortunately, I have faced harassment and sexual assault in multiple degrees, at multiple ages and in various places held ‘pure’ in my naïve mind post primary school as well. But I’d formed a default resilience to it so I never really did anything about any of it. So this and the resulting dramatic, bad relationships and stupid decisions is maybe broadly why I’ve come to be a patient of these disorders.

As time passed since school, I had visual reminders of the abuse. They’d pop up randomly and not in the right order. Just flashes of things happening. It’d be followed by confusion and anger that physically caused my head to ache. Kid me turned to the one thing she loves the most – music. I would put on earphones, listen to music and picture something completely different. And it always worked. Whether it was being angry through Chester and hurting through Cobain, Cornell and the works or partying with 50 Cent and Jay-Z or picturing my crush and I in a Signal Fire song :P This soon turned into my method of coping with pretty much anything drastic that happened. After a couple of years, I’m not sure when, I didn’t need the music to be able to do this anymore. Sit in one place, function in that place but have my mind operating elsewhere so I could block out my abuse or my anxiety.

With age, the lack of addressing my abuse caught up to me. From small panic attacks to full blown rage for reasons I could and couldn’t justify – a whole flurry of patterns began. And for the longest time I spoke to nobody about it. I’d have attacks in the hostel rooms, office loos, outside a gig, in the middle of a party – and I either choked on it or I distracted myself till I could ‘schedule’ a breakdown. When I say attack – it’s either uncontrollable crying or uncontrollable rage as a reaction to the thoughts my mind was throwing. While being able to control it and suppress it to that extent was a good thing back then, around 2 years back I lost my ability to do that. Neither could I control when I’d be triggered nor could I control my reactions. And the happy visual reels I’d put my mind in began to fall apart too. I caught myself not being able to control where they go and how bad they get and the more anxious I got – the line between what I was seeing in my head and how I was behaving started to blur. So there it is. A 24-year-old who can go out, do her job, meet her loved ones and be there for them – for whom the bad days meant vividly reliving her abuse while being wide awake, hallucinating in the middle of 300 people or just plain nightmares that made her feel like she couldn’t get up again.

I’m not sure if it was this lack of control over my once great coping mechanism or just all of the ‘not dealing with’ that has sprouted 3 distinct energies that are a part of me but the fact is – I’m in a place where I can call them my friends now. I could’ve just said voices in my head but too cliché no? So Ms. Question Mark, Ms. Bleu and Ms. Extra.

Ms. QM has been quite the jackass over the last 3-4 years. Convincing me that everything I say or do (sometimes even while I’m saying or doing things) is mediocre or somehow painting me as a fool. She refuses to go anywhere without her “I’m not good enough’ cap. It’s like waking up one day and everyone you ever knew is now on a higher pedestal than you, better in every way and deserving of company better than yours. She had me petrified of asking superiors at work for clarification, afraid of hanging out with my best friends and also sabotage perfectly fine dates. It’s like being on red alert with your guards up not knowing if there IS a problem but being sure that there CAN be one. Fun, real fun. She also does prove useful when the lady I will next speak of isn’t around – in making sure I’m more careful of surroundings, in picking up every cue in a room, in marking human red flags (yet I do not claim to not run after them, I am but a W.I.P.)

Then there’s Ms. Bleu. Who just shows up uninvited and you’ll never know if she’s leaving till she does. She brings along a general lack of affinity towards anything and everything I would usually enjoy, takes away all my motivation to take care of myself, keeps replaying the worst moments of my life and makes me feel like I’ve been running for weeks despite barely having gotten out of bed. She’s been a part of me for so long that my mind is now programmed to processing emotions late and not as and when the cause takes place. The most recent example would be crying over whether I’d make a good life partner – what with the maniac that I am, a week after my wedding so that I could finally feel joy about having met the gem that I have.

So one lady that makes me as good as a fused tube light and another that is a special-ops analytics team for absolutely no reason – you see how they make the most ironic team? One side keeps saying “are you sure it’s okay to do this?” and the other says “It doesn’t matter coz you don’t matter” for every third task of the day. Having anxiety and depression is being audience to a daily ping-pong match in your head, where you wait for the ball to be misplaced. Guilt, shame, self-loathing – ah the perfect sad song.

But there’s also the third lady who pops up every once in a while, and I quite like her - Extra. She makes me feel good and beautiful and energetic but also brings with her the risk of the ‘too much”. Drinking too much, taking too many impulsive decisions and recently - shopping for a whole load of shit I don’t need. Going overboard with meeting people and then not knowing where all my energy went. But I’ll take her over the other two any day.

So this is what is up with me. Any given day of the week, I’ll be handling one of the three while going about the rest of my life. The real assignment starts with my next rant about how I’ve gotten to make peace with these energies and am currently taking my life back, bit by bit. But till then – HEY! I’m Neelima Sadanand and I deal with all of this and if you are too – I’m here for you in whatever capacity the universe allows :)

[pagesoflauren]

Weddings with Jack (Jack Lowden x reader)

Moodboard credit: x x x x x 

“He’s just around the bend,” the photographer says as your bridesmaids help you navigate through the garden with the train of your dress and bouquet with white roses and blue rice flowers. A gold ribbon keeps the bouquet together, keeping with the colors you and Jack picked for the big day. Once you turn the corner, you see Jack standing in his kilt with his back to you.

You’d seen him in a kilt before and been to plenty of weddings with him, but seeing him today, in his kilt sends a new feeling of elation bursting through your chest. You want to run to him and jump in a taxi to get away now, just seeing, hearing and thinking about him. You laugh when the groomsmen exclaim in excitement when they see you, Calum’s face lighting up particularly bright when his eyes dart from you to his brother. 

Jack on the other hand feels his heart pick up when he hears his friends cheer, knowing he could turn around right now and see you. He’s already smiling, and his fingers begin shaking. You stand back to back with him, your bridesmaids fixing your train and the hairstylist fixing the strand framing your face. 

“Alright, Jack, go ahead and grab Y/N’s hand,” the photographer says.

Jack reaches his hand out, not turning around, but feeling his breathing hitch when your delicate hand grabs his. He squeezes and runs his thumb across the back of your hand.

“Hey, lass,” he greets. “Hi, Jack,” you almost whisper.

The photographer takes a few pictures of you two like this, you looking at your joined hands as Jack tries his best to compose himself. When she’s done, she instructs the bridal party to count down from five. At one, you guys can look at each other. Your friends have fun counting down, causing a proper ruckus in the otherwise quiet garden. Some birds even fly away when they yell the numbers. At one, you quickly turn, your eyes meeting his.

He’s absolutely beaming until his face crumbles with so many emotions: joy, excitement, love, adoration and everything in between.

“Oh god,” he sighs, tears spilling over his eyelids as he covers his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes appear to be darting around, but he’s looking at you. All he sees is you. The eyes he had spent hours looking into, the lips he had pressed his own against, the way your hair falls to frame your face, how your veil floats behind you in the slight breeze that blows. You look completely ethereal, and he wonders how on Earth you breathe the same air he does, how your heart beats like his does.

You laugh, your chest inflated with affection as you reach up to cup his jaw with your free hand, “Oh gosh, you look so handsome, Jack.”

“Jesus, forget about me, you look absolutely stunning,” he sputters out, wiping tears from his face and laughing as well.

“Thank you,” you say as you blush, looking down at your dress, “Do you like it?”

“Yes, I love it, it’s gorgeous, you’re gorgeous,” he babbles, his emotions getting the best of him.

You laugh again, thinking that there is nothing and no one on this Earth more adorable than your fiancé at the moment.

“As much as I hate to break up this beautiful moment,” the photographer interrupts, “but we’re due back to the Hedsor House in less than two hours if we want to take pictures there, so we only have so much time before we’ve gotta be back at the venue.”

Everyone laughs and the makeup artist rushes to you to fix your foundation that had smudged from your tears. The photographer shouts out directions for everybody to pose, everyone changing positions and walking around as you can Jack remain in the center.

Some photos you take as you and Jack walk hand-in-hand or walking as Jack helps you carry the train of your dress. Other photos are candids of you two laughing together or the entire wedding party as everyone dances and skips from one location of the garden to the next. You favorite photos are the ones you can Jack can take together, looking into each other’s eyes with beaming smiles and looks of adoration.

After pictures are done, you all spend time in the bridal suite as you wait for the ceremony to starts. You’re thankful you finished taking photos early, giving you time to rest your feet. Jack squeezes your hand to bring your attention to him.

“Have I told you you look beautiful?” “You have,” you say as you laugh. “Well, I haven’t said it enough,” he says. “You’re an absolute vision. Can you wear this everyday?” “I’d rather not,” you laugh, “I’d have to do my hair and makeup like this everyday and deal with the train. Could you imagine this getting caught in the door of the Tube?” “Fair enough,” he says, kissing your temple.

Suddenly the TV’s shut off and your wedding planner, Candice, is rushing in, telling everyone to get ready to go downstairs and get into their positions. The photographer snaps photos as you walk down the stairs, Jack holding your hand to help steady you and your bridesmaids carry your bouquet and dress train. You and Jack practically skip to the door, ready to run down the aisle to marry each other.

“Alright, Jack, come on,” the wedding planner says, gesturing for him to come and stand next to his mother. “I’ll see you at the altar,” he says, hands holding onto your left with your engagement ring. He bends at the waist to kiss the back of your hand before letting you go to hook his arm with his mum.

You’re too busy shaking your jitters off to notice when your parents come in, your mum accompanied by her brother, your godfather, who’s going to walk with her down the aisle. Jack’s father appears as well with one of Jack’s godmothers and suddenly it’s all real. Candice scolds you, telling you you need to be around the corner so that no one sees you when the doors open.

“You ready?” your dad asks, offering you his arm. “Promise you won’t let me trip,” you say, your voice shaking. “Never,” he replies, smiling and kissing your cheek.

You hear the doors creak open and you hear the familiar tune of the Beauty and the Beast instrumental theme. Candice says a series of “go”s and “you’re up”s as the line grows shorter and people walk down the aisle. Your maid of honor and Jack’s best man smile at you before heading out the door. The doors shut and Candice calls you to come forward as the officiate instructs your friends and family to “Please stand and greet the bride.”

The bride. That’s you. And Jack is your groom. Your fiancé. He’s going to be your husband in twenty minutes.

The doors open as the music swells and you almost forget how to walk. You step forward and walk with your father. You know everyone’s looking at you. There’s about 200 eyes on you, but you’re only thinking about one pair. The bright blue ones, the ones that are watering and crinkling at the corners as you look into them. You want to drop your bouquet, detach yourself from your father and sprint down the aisle. You want to jump into Jack’s arms and have him take you away to your honeymoon. You want, you want, you want…

Jesus, has the aisle always been this long? Wasn’t it shorter yesterday?

You reach the altar just as the song is ending, your father kissing your cheek and whispering how much he loves you with tears in his eyes. You watch him stand next to your mother, and the officiate signals for everyone to sit down.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to bear witness to the union…”

You zone out, looking at Jack. He’s smiling his close-lipped smile, his dimple on full display. You’re itching to reach out to him, to just hold his hands and weave your fingers with his. You wish now you hadn’t chosen to have readings for your wedding; your own ceremony is taking too long.

“And now, Jack and Y/N will exchange vows. Ladies first,” he says, handing you a microphone.

You turn to your maid of honor, who hands you your vows. There’s a small part of your mind that’s worried they’re not good enough. You had spent weeks on them, writing and rewriting, typing and backspacing, reading and groaning when words didn’t fit quite right.

You unfold the paper with some difficulty; the microphone was quite clunky in your hand. “Um, okay,” you start, laughing at yourself a bit. “My dearest Jack.”

You huff another laugh, pressing your vows to your chest as the realization that you’re reading them to him hits you.

“My dearest Jack, I’ve spent my whole life reading and watching love stories. I read about Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy’s pride and prejudice, watched Wesley and Buttercup share the most passionate and pure kiss, and cried over the power of Noah and Allie’s love. I had idolized these and so many other couples in fiction, because I had convinced myself that a powerful, beautiful, captivating love is something that’s left to be fictitious. When I met you, I was so confused”—you hear scattered laughter throughout the venue—“I was so confused because I felt something in my heart, something I thought was only reserved for pages in a novel or the silver screen. You made me believe that the powerful, beautiful, captivating love was something I could own, and you’ve given it to me. And I’m forever grateful for that.

“In return, I promise to be a steadfast source of support and loyalty. I will be there to run lines with you and kiss you goodbye at the airport or train station. I will be there to kiss you when you come home and take care of you when you’re sick or hurt. I promise to tell you when a role doesn’t suit you, like when you turned down the role of being the antagonist in a film because, let’s face it, you’d be the worst villain ever.”

Jack bellows a laugh, wiping away a tear, and others laugh with him.

“I promise to stand by you when your days or weeks get long and to provide you with detailed grocery lists so that you don’t get lost in the supermarket. Above all, I promise to love you forever and ever and even a little bit after that.”

You exhale, tears in your eyes, as you hand the microphone to Jack. He’s absolutely beaming. Light from the sun pales in comparison to how he’s looking at you right now.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he says, his groomsmen laughing, hooting and whistling. Jack reaches into his jacket and digs around before pulling out the folded up piece of paper with his vows, his hands shaking as he sniffs and takes a deep breath.

“Y/N, my love. When I moved to London, acting was the most important thing in my life. It was my career, and it was all I wanted to do. That night in the pub, I went because an audition didn’t go well. I saw you with your friends and suddenly acting didn’t matter anymore. Any…any tricks I had learned to suppress my nerves had all gone out the window and I panicked, because I knew I just had to talk to you. I had one shot to talk to you and I knew I couldn’t blow it because you were just so immaculate. I watched you walk up to the bar and I tripped over myself to get there. When you agreed to go out with me, it was like gravity no longer had an affect on me. Rather, it’s you that keeps me held to the Earth.”

Your head tilts when you realize he hadn’t unfolded the piece of paper in his hands.

“I had…spent years acting in school, but within a matter of minutes, you became the most important thing in my life. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you, making you happy, taking care of you, coming back home to you and growing with you. You have made me into the man I am today, and I am a better version of myself because you deserve nothing less than my best. I love you. And I will spend the rest of my life reminding you and proving it to you.”

Jack blindly hands the officiate the microphone, eyes completely focused on you.

“The wedding ring is a symbol of married love, the precious metals show that your love is your most precious possession, and the unending circle symbolizes that your love may never cease. May I have the rings, please?”

Calum steps forward to give him to two plain silver bands you and Jack had picked out. He hands Jack yours.

“Jack, please repeat after me. ‘Y/N, take this ring…’” “Y/N,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear before his voice softens, “take this ring…”

You realize what he’s doing. He’s creating a sphere around the both of you, where it’s just you him, the rings and your promises to each other.

“…as a symbol of my love and fidelity … I pledge to you all that I am … and all that I will ever be as your husband. With this ring, I thee wed.”

He slides the ring to rest above your engagement ring, giving your hands a small squeeze before the officiate hands you Jack’s wedding band.

“Y/N, please repeat after me. ‘Jack, take this ring…’” “Jack, take this ring … as a symbol of my love and fidelity … I pledge to you all that I am … and all that I will ever be as your wife. With this ring, I thee wed.”

Once the ring reaches the bottom of his ring finger, he grabs your arms, looking at you with pure elation.

“I know pronounce you husband and wife, you may now signify your marriage with a kiss.”

You hear cheering erupt, but it sounds like it’s far away. You can’t even see anything else except Jack. His hands travel to your waist and bring you closer to him as your hands cup his jaw. He presses his lips to yours in a soul searing kiss, holding you unbelievably tight. You feel tears spill from your eyes when the kiss breaks and you open your eyes, Jack continuing to stamp kisses across your face, stopping at your temple.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Lowden!”

You bounce on the balls of your feet and take your bouquet from your maid of honor. You and Jack walk back up the aisle and into the mansion.

“We did it,” he says once you’re inside, “We did it. I’m…I’m your husband.” “My husband,” you echo, you say as you caress his cheek and look into his eyes, “And I’m your wife.” “My wife. My wife. Y/N, my lass, my wife.”

The photographer calls you for more pictures of you two with your families and close-ups with your wedding bands. The sun sets, lights flicker on and candles wicks become ignited. Music blasts and you dance around with your friends, laugh with your cousins and happily kiss Jack at the sound of silverware clinking against glasses.

The night comes to a close and your guests trickle out. Your wedding party is the last to leave, hooting and hollering as you and Jack ascend the stairs to go to the bridal suite.

“As much as I can’t wait for our honeymoon,” Jack starts, shedding his coat and replacing it on the hanger in the closet, “I’m so glad our flight is tomorrow night.”

You laugh, standing in front of the mirror to take off your veil and undo your hair. “Me too—ow,” you wince when a hair pin pulls a couple strands out. “Need some help, Mrs. Lowden?” Jack asks pointedly, coming to stand behind you. “Yes, please,” you say.

You chat mindlessly, recounting the day from your own perspectives and telling each other what you had done the previous night before Jack’s groomsmen whisked him away for a night on the town, as Jack fishes pins out of your hair.

“How many of these are there?” he says, watching a pile accumulate on the dresser. “I have no idea. But at least I won’t have to go to the shops for them anymore.” “C’mon, lass, I know you. You’ll lose half of these in Italy,” he says, pulling the last pin out as you sigh in relief. That one had been unpleasantly pressing against your scalp all day. “Thank you.” “Mm,” he hums, running his fingers through your hair, untangling the strands and kissing your temple again.

You take off your bracelets and necklace, setting them next to the pile of bobby pins. Your earrings are next and you pull your hair over one shoulder. “Jack, will you…?” “Of course, Mrs. Lowden,” he says, beginning to unfasten the long line of buttons on the back of your dress. “Thank you, Mr. Lowden.” “S’not the same,” he sighs, continuing to work, “You’ve always called me Mr. Lowden.” “Maybe you should’ve taken my last name instead. Or I can just call you ‘husband.’ Thank you, husband.”

Jack bellows in laughter, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades as that area of skin exposes when enough buttons have become undone.

When the buttons have all been undone, you exhale comfortably. Jack finishes discarding his own clothes and you grab his shirt, buttoning a few buttons and crawling under the duvet. Jack follows, pressing his chest to your back and kissing behind your ear.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Lowden.” “Goodnight, Jack,” you whisper, intertwining your fingers with his and falling asleep next to your husband for the first time.

:D

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THIS SERIES GUYS!!! I can’t say this is the definite end, but it’s the ending for now. 

This series means the absolute world to me; it’s allowed me to meet and interact with so many wonderful people that I love so dearly and I’m so glad you guys all love it (so far).

Again, thank you so much for reading, I love you all so much! 

tagging: @albionscastle

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

130lb of Ukrainian Courage (pt 10)

Mickey goes to collect Yevgeny at 5pm and Ian spends the fifteen minutes it take for them to get back staring anxiously in the bathroom mirror and attempting to cover the worst of his bruising with a mostly used up tube of foundation that Debs must have left the last time she came over. Mickey looks beat up too, though his nose is healing well and the bruising is starting to fade, the state of Ian’s face is still pretty dire and the thought of Yev shrinking away from him is awful.

Ian refused to let Yev in to see him when he was in the hospital. Mickey said he had come by once but Ian had been asleep so Yev hadn’t gone into his room and after he woke up, when his mind was still a blur, Ian had told Mickey not to let Yev come in when he arrived. He hadn’t been able to remember what had happened to him exactly but he knew it was dreadful and hadn’t wanted their son exposed to it so Mickey had taken Yev for post-soccer pie instead.

Ian sort of wishes Mickey could take Yevgeny for pie again now. He wants to see the little guy but a horrible part of Ian’s mind keeps imagining Yev turning his face away, hiding himself in Mickey’s side or asking to be taken back to Svetlana, unable to stand being around Ian.

He hears the front door open as Mickey and Yev arrive in a rush of childish chatter about school and deeper grunts of either agreement or disapproval, it is hard to tell the difference with Mick sometimes. The smell of pepperoni pizza float up the stairs and Ian hastily dabs one last bit of creamy paste onto his left eyelid, plasters a smile on his face and bounces down the stairs

“HEY! Where’s my boy?”

“DAD!”

Yev sprints from the kitchen and skids to a halt at the bottom of the stairs looking up at Ian in absolute shock. The welcoming smile on his face falters and then dies completely.

“Dad, your face!”

Panic flutters in Ian’s throat making his voice waver but he keeps his smile determinedly

“I got in a fight. It was dumb. I’m okay though.”

“A fight? With who?”

The bright blue eyes looking up at Ian hold a small glint of menace, brows lowering just a fraction. Yev is a proper mini- Mickey Milkovich and Ian wonders if his heart will ever get used to the rush of love the two of them can produce with just a look.

“No one you know, Mini Milk. Don’t worry about it.”

Ian makes a decision and pushes the fear of rejection away. He stubbornly ignores his busted ribs and aching back and swoops down on Yev, boosting him up in his arms and tossing him in the air and grinning up at the perfect little face.

Yev shrieks with delight at the unexpected play and locks his arms securely around Ian’s neck as he catches him, settling him on his hip. Yev is a little small for his age but even so Ian notices that the chubby features are beginning to harden into the promise of strong adult bones. His little snub nose straightening to match the knife-edge of his fathers and Ian squeezes him a little tighter, wondering how many more times Yev will let himself be held this way.

“Papa is gonna stomp the pants off whoever did that to you.”

Yev says earnestly peering at Ian’s bad eye sympathetically as Ian chuckles, nuzzling the little boy’s dark hair with his nose.

“I already did. And be careful of your Dad’s face.”

Mickey smiles, coming out of the kitchen drying his hands on a tea-towel. He can see the effort Ian is making for Yev and matches it, endeavouring to fit his mood to be what his family needs him to be.

“You guys wanna choose a movie? I can plate up.”

Ian glances at Yev and quirks one eyebrow before looking back to Mickey

“Didn’t you just get pizza?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Who eats pizza off a plate? Eat it out the fricken’ box!”

“Yeah Papa! Eat it out the fricken’ box!”

Yev choruses cheekily, giggling as Mickey eyes him with both brows up to his hairline, tongue caught between his teeth and head bobbing as if to say ‘Oh yeah, Tough Guy?’

“You two animals can’t keep the food in your mouths and it ends up all over the sofa if I don’t give you your own plates.”

“Not the sofa! Not our perfect, pristine sofa!”

Ian cries, faux dramatic, gesturing with the arm not wrapped around Yevgeny to the sorry, battered old two-seater. It’s once vibrant red dulled and worn with age, stuffing leaking out of a whole in the arm nearest them.

Mickey is grinning as well now, bulging out one cheek as he takes his teasing about as well as he is ever able to take it.

“Yeah, OK, well when you get a mouldy pepperoni stuck to your ass in a week or two, I don’t wanna hear about it.”

“We won’t say a word. Scouts honour.”

Ian holds up his middle three fingers, snapping to attention and Yev tries to do the same but can’t quite coordinate his hand and ends up just kind of waving at Mickey.

“Fine. We’ll eat it out the box.”

Mickey rolls his eyes as Ian cheers triumphantly and Yev joins in, cackling like a mad thing as Ian takes him on a victory lap of the room.

Everything feels almost normal. They eat on the sofa, Mickey slouched back with his feet on the coffee table, in charge of the remote because of course he has to be, Ian lounges diagonally at the other end, giving his longer legs a bit more room to spread out and Yev is tucked between them, the pizza box on his lap.

They watch the Addams Family, and Ian mouths Gomez’s best lines at Mickey over the top of Yev’s head, annunciating the lip-synced words with lascivious precision and Mickey grins widely at him, wetting his lips with no pretence of cool and taking a sharp intake of breath through his nose.

After the movie, they play board games, not Monopoly because Yev is already yawning but several intense rounds of Connect 4. In a moment of sulk, Yev releases the catch beneath the game, spilling the red and yellow discs across the table moments before Mickey can win and Mickey chases him around the sofa, both of them laughing until Yev dives behind Ian and yells

“GET HIM, DAD!”

And Ian joins the fray, quickly reversing the chase. Mickey bolts into the kitchen and ducks behind the counter, arming himself with left over pizza crusts that he pelts his assailants with, prompting Yev to quickly switch sides again, purely for the fun of hurling food across the room.

“What … what about … the … beautiful sofa?”

Ian laughs, gasping for breath and clutching his aching ribs

“Fuck the sofa!”

Mickey yells back, tossing another crust, and Yev echoes him which only makes both of his father’s laugh harder although Ian makes a half-hearted attempt to rein his boys in because Mickey is in full playful mode now and likely to encourage Yev if anything.

In response to his gentle reprimand, a piece of dough bounces off Ian’s forehead and he holds up his hands in surrender

“Okay, truce! I give up! You win!”

Mickey and Yev reveal themselves, both looking ridiculously smug, Yev faithfully copying his Papa’s swagger. Mickey brushes a few stray crumbs from Ian’s hair and pats his cheek lightly, his fingers lingering on the smudged make-up gathering in the laughter lines beside his eyes.

Blue eyes search across the depths of green, and whatever Mickey finds seems to please him because he gives a small contented sigh.

“Love ya.”

His voice is pitched low, but there is a warmth to his words that carries over and Ian breathes it in, storing it away to add to the small mental fortress he is building. Yev’s laughter, Mickey’s smile, Gomez’s lines, Mickey’s words.

“You too, Full Pint.”

Ian smirks, scrunching his nose a little and grinning. Mini-Milk and Full Pint. His boys, his family.

Yev is diligently picking up the pizza crusts, happily saying ‘Five second rule!’ and munching on the bits that have sauce on them, despite it being far longer than five seconds. Mickey glances down and frowns

“Hey! Don’t eat off the floor. Jesus. You still hungry? You ate like half the pizza!”

“He’s a growing boy!”

Ian laughs, picking up a piece himself and chewing it defiantly, giving Mickey a flash of chin and teeth. Mickey pulls a face and snatches Yev’s latest find from his hand before he can eat it.

“Ugh. You two are gross. Shit. Everyone in the car. If you gotta eat I’ll take you for ice cream.”

Mickey makes it sound like a chore but his eyes are shining as he grabs his keys and cigarettes and tosses the stolen crust into the trash.

The evening air is warm and a little sticky, the promise of rain hanging heavy in the atmosphere around them, but for now the sun is setting casting beautiful pink clouds across the sky and Ian glances over at Mickey as they buckle up, aware that this is South Side at its most beautiful.

Mickey has his window rolled down and his hand dangling out, cigarette between his fingers. He doesn’t smoke in the car with Yevgeny unless he can aim most of the smoke outside. He developed the habit after seeing a commercial about children passive smoking years ago, although if anyone asks, Mickey just says he prefers it.

Ian puts the radio on and a generic pop song about kissing boys fills the car. Mickey’s eyes flick toward the radio, a defensive habit born of years of repression. Ian notices him do it on the rare occasions they have visited Boys Town together, a quick glance at the people around them, an appraisal of their safety and obscurity in the crowd. Protecting a secret that is no longer there.

Mickey tucks the cigarette between his lips and switches hands on the wheel, reaching hesitantly toward the dial. Ian wants to still his hand but doesn’t move, watching Mickey discreetly to see what he’ll do.

“I like this song, Papa.”

Yev calls from the back. The tattooed fingers that had been hovering uncertainly quickly punch the volume button, and Mickey nods to his son in the mirror.

“Yeah, me too.”

Ian lets out the small breath he has been holding and closes his eyes letting the music wash over him, another brick added to his fortress.

*

Yev falls asleep on the drive back and Mickey carries him inside. It is beginning to rain, a light drizzle that sets crystals in Mickey’s hair and across the cuff of his sleeve as he raises his hand to shield Yevgeny.

“Jeez. He gets heavier every week.”

“Yeah he’s not a baby anymore is he?”

Ian sounds a little wistful and Mickey grins at him over the top of Yevgeny’s unruly dark hair as Ian lets them into the house.

“Don’t worry, he’ll always be your baby. Me personally, I’m looking forward to him being able to tie his own shoelaces without a fuckin’ pep talk.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Ian pats Mickey’s ass fondly as he leans down to kiss Yevgeny’s temple.

“You gonna take him up?”

“Yeah, you coming? It’s early but I feel wiped out, man.”

Mickey looks it too and Ian nods, he isn’t tired really and it’s silly, but he doesn’t want to be on his own when his family is so close by.

“Yeah. I’ll be up in a minute.”

He watches Micky go and then pads over to the kitchen to take his meds. As always Mickey has arranged them for him and Ian finds himself unusually appreciative of that small familiar gesture. He washes them down and checks the back door is locked, then does the same for the front door. He checks the windows and begins to walk upstairs before doubling back and checking the back door once more.

He glances toward the front door but shakes his head firmly, planting his feet solidly. This is not a habit he is getting into. No way. He forces himself to head upstairs and push the lingering trepidations from his mind.

Yev’s light is already off so Ian brushes his teeth and pads through to Mickey.

“Oh…”

Ian pauses at the threshold and smiles wetly at the sight of his boyfriend and son both curled up in the big bed. Yev has rolled into Mickey’s chest, his head tucked under his father’s chin and Mickey is holding him close, one arm slung protectively across Yev’s middle, his bedtime story dangling loosely from curled fingers.

Mickey’s eyes flicker open as Ian slides into bed beside them.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Ian whispers back, settling on his side so that his is facing them both, lightly propped on one elbow

“You brought him in?”

“Yeah, figured one night can’t hurt.”

Mickey’s lip curls up in a sleepy smile as Ian brushes his hair back

“No it can’t hurt.”

Ian agrees. Mickey is silent for so long that Ian thinks he has fallen asleep and is slightly startled when he murmurs

“Will you read to me?”

“Huh?”

“The book. Yev’s asleep but I saved his place.”

“You want a story?”

Ian grins and Mickey bits his lip, frowning slightly

“No … I mean, not really. I just like your voice, the way you tell it … Forget it, I don’t …”

“Hey, no, Mick, of course I’ll read to you.”

Ian takes the offered book from Mickey’s hand, sitting up, careful not to jog the bed too much.

Blue eyes blink up at Ian uncertainly. Mickey seldom asks for little things like this, he has got better at doing so over the years but there is still an air of vulnerability about him each time and Ian makes a point to always do his best to comply, building Mickey’s confidence one small step at a time.

“You want me to start at the beginning?”

“Yeah.”

Mickey nods laying his hand on Ian’s thigh, stroking his thumb back and forth over the soft red hair. Ian makes a small show of finding the first page of story and running his finger down the page, clearing his throat softly.

Yevgeny takes the preparation of story time very seriously, and Ian would have bet his last dime that Mickey would be the same. Sure enough, he can feel Mickey’s eyes on him now, following his movements and there is a small shift as he gets into a more comfortable position to listen.

“Until he was four years old James Henry Trotter had had a happy life. He lived peacefully with his mother and father in a beautiful house by the sea …”

There is a comfort in those familiar words that goes beyond measure; like taking a warm sip of tea from a favourite mug. Ian balances the book in one hand and reaches down to rub his fingers lightly over Mickey’s knuckles.

Ian keeps reading, smiling to himself at the mumbled comments that come from the pillow beside him.

‘…fuckin rhino…’

‘…fuckin’ old bitches…’

‘…you think we should get Yev a cat?…”

Ian loves reading to Yevgeny but reading to Mickey is so much more entertaining and he can tell just how much Mickey is enjoying being read to by the unnatural stillness that has come over him. As Ian keeps going the comments become less frequent and Mickey’s breathing starts to become heavier. Ian wouldn’t have credited it as possible and most people in the neighbourhood wouldn’t believe him, but when he glances to his left, he realises that he has just read Mickey Milkovich to sleep. Ian turns off the lamp and carefully folds the corner of the page over, before sliding back down the bed and wrapping his arm protectively across the two loves of his life.

*

Glass shatters outside and Mickey is crouched beside the bed, butterfly knife in hand before he is even fully awake. The sound of drunks laughing fades into the night and Mickey draws a deep breath through his nose, coming back to himself as the last hazes of sleep leave him.

The room is dark but he can make out the twin forms of Ian and Yev and he takes a moment to draw the sheets he threw off back over them before padding downstairs, flicking the blade back and forth absentmindedly. The doors and windows are locked, the yard is undisturbed. Everything is as it should be but Mickey’s heart is thudding in his chest and sweat is prickling under his armpits.

He checks each room until he is satisfied that no one else is in the house and then wearily makes his way back upstairs. He doesn’t try to get back into bed because Yev has used the opportunity to spread his arms and legs out ‘starfish’ style and Mickey doesn’t really want to move him.

He had tucked Yev in with them for Ian. Taking care of things is a vocation for his boyfriend, the sort of need that Mickey always thought of as kind of self-indulgent until he got to see it close up. Yevgeny is a bold little guy but he is still Ian’s kid and nurturing him has always given Ian a focus away from any other horrible shit that is going on. He takes care of Mickey too of course but it isn’t the same and Mickey knows it. Ian needs him, but for his first night back in this room, after all that he has been through, he needed Yevgeny more.

Mickey sighs and lays down on the floor beside the bed, the hard wood familiar even after years of sharing a comfortable mattress with Ian. Mickey can hear the rain, heavier now, pattering across the roof and swilling in the guttering. He closes his eyes but opens them again and shudders, haunted by the vision of iris’ the colour of murky puddles.

He lies there until pale sunlight begins to filter through the windows and then carefully budges Yev over, slipping back into the warmth of the bed. His legs are cold and Yev curls away with a huff that makes Mickey grin.

By the time Ian wakes up at 7am to take his pills, Mickey and Yev are once again flopped across the bed, both in a deep sleep that Ian’s gentle forehead kisses do nothing to rouse them from. Ian sighs, stretches, and begins his day.