#bc i thought of this when i was washing dishes just now but i hadn't thought past the first 2 paragraphs

[fangirlingatstuff]

Ronin and reader headcannons (w/ romance if thats fine I couldnt find ur rules page sorry) , you and MK had shrunk together, so maybe sometime after the movie, Nod and Him become "stomper" size and MK's like: "nah dude you gotta go to Y/n's house" and they go to your large slightly dysfunctional loving family to regroup and stuff. You have become my new favorite account bc i found no one who writes Epic, especially Ronin. <3 You have been followed and will be loved aggressively

Yay! Welcome to the club lol the fandom may be slightly dead but that doesnt keep some of us from making content XD Hope you like this hun! Haven’t written much for Ronin so this is fun!

This is definitely not based off of my family nooo why would you think that??? (Tho I only have one brother lol)

When you had first shrunken down and met Ronin, you hadn't been as trustful as MK was.

Given, you went with MK as emotional support so she had someone to fall back on if things didn't go well with her dad, and after being shrunken while stressing about helping out your friend, you were a lot more on edge than she was.

When Ronin made it his job to escort the both of you to Nim's, you weren't as receptive of the idea as MK was, but hey, MK was kind of in need of a strong figure in her life and you weren't going to argue with that.

Over the period of that day, seeing Ronin, talking to him, noticing his own grief, even though he was pretty attractive and it made your heart skip a beat when he pulled you in by the waist to get you away from MK's crazy pug, you told yourself "we just met” and left it at that.

So imagine your surprise, several months later, when MK shows up with both leafmen while your youngest siblings were causing mayhem in the kitchen, your eldest brother wrestling with your dad over the last couple pizza rolls, and your mom stuck in a standoff with the cat since it kept trying to eat the bills on the counter.

MK explained what happened and why Ronin and Nod were suddenly big now, but you weren't able to say anything before she was like “Ok bye! Take care!” And left them with you

You were SO going to get her back for this

Honestly, you were surprised that your family didn’t mind them showing up, but you also lived in a loft above the garage so that you had some privacy from the rest of your family.

After introducing Nod and Ronin as “some of MK’s friends”, you moved them up to your small “apartment”

Nod was already a hit with your youngest two brothers, showing off his sword skills by slicing fruit in the air as they tossed it at him

Ronin took a while to adjust

But slowly he started to talk to you and you two actually had the longest conversation you’ve ever had between the two of you

Ronin didn’t want to intrude or be a burden, so he picked up doing chores (your chores) around the apartment and house while also getting Nod to do your brothers chores

You told him it wasn’t necessary, they were your chores for a reason, but Ronin argued and said that this was thanks for letting the two of them stay

He’s already a big hit with your mom and dad, but they were at work and didn’t see much of him

You were washing dishes after everyone else left the house, either for school or work, when Ronin came in

He was wearing a white henley shirt with rolled up sleeves, something that SHOULDNT have looked that good on him, and immediately stopped to look at you from across the house

“Nope, uh uh,” he hip checked you out of the way and took the plate you were washing

“Hey!” You said

“Let me wash the dishes,” he didn’t even bother letting you argue, to him it was “his duty” to show appreciation by helping around the house

“Ronin,” you whined while trying to take the rag back from him, “c’mon, it’s literally my one chore.”

“You don’t have to do it, I got it,” he said

You huffed and groaned

“How about you wash them and I’ll dry and put them up?” You offer, hand on your hip

He looked at you and thought for a moment

The two of you worked in sync with each other in the small kitchen, you putting up the dishes as Ronin washed them

Occasionally, his hand would linger for a moment longer than usual while handing you the next dish, or you’d glance over to see him quickly looking away

Even when dressed so casually he looked so in charge and strong, it was so weird

It was weird in general to see him out of his armor but you digress

When the last dish was put up, you stretched and wiped down your slightly wet hands before turning to walk out

“Hey Y/n-“ you turned as Ronin reached out for you but hesitated

“Yeah, Ronin?” You raised a brow

He stopped and drew back his hand, brow furrowed in thought

“…thank you. For letting me and Nod stay here. Your family is…very kind.”

You snorted, “Yeah, well you havent seen ‘em on a bad day.”

Ronin chuckled a little at your joke and it made your cheeks turn pink

“But really,” he said, “I don’t know how else to thank you.”

“You don’t have to-“

“No, I do,” he added as you hopped to sit on the counter behind you. “I…I think we got off on the wrong foot, before.”

You blinked in surprise and looked away with a hint of shame, “Yeah, I—that day was a lot for me.”

He sighed, “It…was a lot for me too.”

You lowered your gaze, thinking about the woman who he had ran to as she died, the late queen, Tara

Ronin shook his head and snapped out of it, “Uh, well I-“ he stammered and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m happy MK took us here. It’s been…nice, actually getting to know you.”

You told yourself you were imagining the blush on his face

“Really?” You smiled. “It’s been nice getting to know you too.”

Ronin smiled as you hopped down and opened up the fridge, taking out a gallon of iced sweet tea

“Come on!” You chirped as you passed him and grabbed two glasses, “It’s nice out.”

The two of you sat out in the backyard on the porch, chatting and drinking iced tea, laughing at stories, talking about anything and everything, enjoying the nice spring air late into the evening

When Nod eventually came back with MK after a trip around town, they found the two of you passed out on the porch swing, a thin blanket over the both of you

MK laughed but Ronin never looked so peaceful

Okay it took me a while to come up with this and it isnt immediately romantic but now Im like “…oh? Oh, ok, am I invested in this now???”

So if you like it I can DEFINITELY do more, it took everything in me to NOT just write an entire short fic for this one prompt, it ended up being so much cuter than I expected!!!!

Hope you like it! Its awesome having more people interact with the fandom!!

[rexaleph]

thought i was fully out of my sample of Serge Lutens De Profundis, but no, got a generous spray out of it to compare to Bas de Soie and La Religieuse. and it's so good, just as i remembered. opens very spicy green, i can really distinguish the chrysanthemum. and then it quickly becomes a sweet pollen-y lily. wet and plant-like but still distinctly a perfume, not a nature scent, sweet and attractive. i wish i hadn't sprayed it on my wrist, i need to wash dishes soon.

La Religieuse is just sweet jasmine to me, De Profundis minus the interesting elements

Bas de Soie, upon heavier application, smells strongly of clean bathroom for the first half hour, i think this is what people mean when they criticise sth as soapy. dries exquisitely delicate powdery-fresh though, and lasts and projects fairly well in that stage.

now. given that what i want is to find a soft floral perfume to own a bottle of, the choice is in fact not simply De Profundis my beloved. bc while i think i prefer the scent, Bas de Soie comes with a clear mood, the lingerie fantasy perfume literally called silk stockings. and De Profundis is not straightforwardly pretty like that. it's more sweet, sharp and effervescent, while the name and bottle are very gothic obviously. but maybe affectedly tragic and playful is actually more my version of pretty femininity and i don't need to be getting into deep silk stocking coquette drag. in the drydown they are fairly similar, De Profundis has more woody sweetness and Bas de Soie projects a laundry detergent freshness that expands fuzzily in the sinuses.

what i would like is another sample of De Profundis to wear out and see how it does maybe. but also there is ofc the price for either, unjustifiable

[fallingfromdepression]

10/14/20: something i wish i could post on my personal IG but never will

back in april of 2019, i watched spiderverse for the first (and so far only) time. it was also the first time since middle school i considered seriously a career in animation, in character-focused stories. i admittedly have not consumed as much western animation as i should have before making this next claim, but spiderverse was one of the first western animations i had seen which felt similar to the animes i watched that i felt pushed the boundaries of the medium (namely, mob psycho 100); growing up, i had seriously (but maybe not as seriously as some of my peers who did go on to schools specializing in the arts) considered growing up to be a manga/anime artist, but manga/anime as a career had always felt distant since it was based in japan, an entirely separate country and far away from me (yes i was aware western comics and animation were a thing but i didn’t care about /their/ aesthetics at the time even though in retrospect some of them do have very dope styles and animation). spiderverse was one of the first times that i felt maybe the style i grew up consuming and wanting to create myself was possible in the west where i lived, accessible to me and not unreachable in a faraway land (theoretically. it is only a plane-ride away and manga/anime very much do influence current western media/animation).

the rekindling of my interest in art as a career also came at a time when i was entering grad school for an industry i was not really sure i actually wanted to pursue (public policy). i had already had doubts about even going to grad school for this from the beginning of deciding to apply for the program, but as i had done no job searching or had any job offers waiting post-graduation, grad school seemed to make the most sense (as other people told me. and honestly i believed too as someone who had gone through college and yet never found my “passion”). i hoped that i would somehow fall in love with public policy, or at least learn to like it enough to drive me through the next 2 years. back in april, i had just recently either submitted my application to grad school or had just received my acceptance offer (i don’t remember which), so this rekindling did not come at a great time since i had to start priming my mind for a policy career rather than an art career. i’m writing this as me who is currently in my 2nd year of the public policy program, and i’m sorry to say to my past self that i still haven’t fallen in love with public policy as i had hoped (in fact, i had imagined being able to drop out of the program but it could only be in my imagination as it was ridiculous to quit after only 1 quarter in grad school. and a potential waste of time and money despite literally my microeconomics professor in that first quarter saying ‘if, theoretically, someone here were to regret coming to grad school for public policy ... it’s better to quit now rather than slug through the next 2 yrs in a program you don’t like’). in the past year, i have continued to struggle with the idea of pursuing art as a career... and with my own art.

this latter is a completely new struggle, as i have enjoyed drawing for, the most part, my entire life. while i did try to wean myself off of this interest in high school in preparation for my (assumed) future career as a medical doctor, i still went back to it at the end of high school/beginning of college and have been drawing on and off ever since. it really is just a hobby, as i do it in my free time and i don’t make money off of it. however in the last year, i have really struggled with keeping my art as just a hobby, especially with my desire/dream to do art as a career. despite my excitement in april 2019, i don’t believe i can ever make it in the art industry and this is a belief i’ve had since high school: i don’t have much creativity or unique new ideas to bring to the table (most of my current creative endeavors usually include fanart or being inspired by memes/someone else’s work that my own work is then based off of) and i don’t have the drive that i feel like i’ve seen from actual art professionals. depression and mental health issues that influence this drive aside, the reason i never pursued art seriously back in high school was because i didn’t think i had the ability. the people i know who did end up going to school for art had styles different from mine -- admittedly leaning on the photorealistic side, which now i consider a separate style from manga/anime and both are just as valid as art. but back then i didn’t think of it like that -- and they were thinking about art and creating almost all the time. (admittedly again, they did have more art classes in their schedules but i had my hands full trying to keep my grades and motivation up for science and math classes. obviously other things were at play here from that very sentence alone, but moving on.) all in all, i don’t think i have what it takes even though admittedly the drive i keep mentioning is kind of something i need in /all/ industries, regardless of whatever i’m producing for it... so time and time again i keep coming back to square one. i want to pursue a career but also i don’t/can’t. but well, you don’t have to go to art school; i’ve seen people online who manage to side-gig or get by by just posting online while doing other things academically/professionally full-time.

but in a recent attempt to do a month-long drawing challenge, i realized ... i don’t know what i want to do with my art. my frustration with my art during that challenge (which i only ended up doing a full week of before i stopped) coupled with me reading write-ups of artists talking about their inspirations to create made me ask myself ... what am i drawing for? what do i want to ultimately create? at this current point in time i’ve realized those reasons again, but during that challenge i thought that i didn’t have any reasons. i was just drawing just to draw... which is fine as a hobbyist but as a professional who is creating character-driven/focused stories? now, i said i’ve realized those reasons again, and they revolve around me wanting to create stories about mental health, stories with representation. except for the former i have never successfully drawn anything pertaining to my own mental health story bc i find it impossible to put down tangibly, and the latter i feel like i don’t feel as strongly about it as some other artists i follow (namely a specific artist who had talked about how important it was for them as a malaysian singaporean to represent muslim malaysian culture well. and you could tell through their writing how strongly they felt about it. it’s a level that i am not at admittedly with my own representation goals). and not having a strong sense of direction with my art is the same problem i have with public policy, in which i don’t know what exactly i want to do with it. i have a concept, ideas of what to do but i have no idea what it actually looks like in practice to execute. as someone who is most comfortable coming up with ways to execute other people’s ideas and not coming up with and executing my own, trying to figure out my own life trajectory for myself with a limited time frame (i’m in my 2nd year of grad school for christ’s sake) is a Feat to say the least.

in spiderverse, in the mangas i used to read and still do today, characters with problems like me get to see them solved linearly and with good endings. they struggle to get to that ending though, and so i should expect to struggle too. but as someone who has not maintained friendships through any period of my life (separate can of worms to open) nor has any concrete idea/desire for what i want to do in the future ... i’m already missing 2 major factors that the fictional characters i read about usually have to help guide them. i’m still struggling with this desire to pursue art as a career as i currently take classes on public policy, and with my motivation to draw. i’m struggling to draw now because i feel that there is no future in my art, that even if i keep it as a hobby it isn’t worth it. i get it, you don’t have to monetize your hobbies, and if it’s just a hobby you can go at it at your own pace and not compare to others. but being on social media more recently and looking at more art has been really damaging lately, even if i keep reminding myself that these artists are good because they’re either 1. younger and have more time to draw and churn out art to practice more or 2. have literal careers in art and have studied art and drawn repeatedly for essentially years ... it still hurts to see art and realize how much work you have to do yourself to get to that level. this fear of that amount of work is almost an entirely different issue than just a struggle on whether or not to pursue art professionally though... 

recently, in a fit of frustration, i considered just not drawing ever again and to try to forget about art and attempt to more seriously pursue public policy. but the idea of just not drawing ever again literally brought tears to my eyes, and i feel it’s because drawing has been a part of my life for so long (it was essentially my identity in middle school, and maybe that’s why i have such a complex with art) that i don’t know what i would do if i gave it up. drawing and my confidence in my ability to draw has been there for me through decades now, and i still like being able to visually depict others’ and my ideas. but sometimes i look at my art and i’m like ‘wow i’ve improved a lot since back then’ but sometimes i look at my art and think of everything i’m lacking compared to what i want my art to be like.

[in-superbloom]

did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.