#danyal concept

[aealzx]

I spent a lot longer than intended on this X'D but at least the brain worms are gone again.

random design of Danyal Al Ghul based on the fic train I piggy backed off of earlier, and some further brain rot story idea that needed a design, btu that took too long so I didn't write it

Also vaguely influenced by some zillychu stuff. because why not a bit of creature in your ghost king.

[versias]

Demon Twins AU

- Maddie was trained by the League of Assassins and was sent back to America to pursue her theory that Lazarus water was ectoplasmic residue. She joined the only paranormal studies course in the country and met likeminded scientists Jack Fenton and Vlad Masters.

- Maddie fell in love with Jack and they pursued their research together, attempting to break into the “ghost zone”, the hypothetical in-between where the energy of death collected in order to collect pure ectoplasm samples. (And possibly capture a ghost for study.)

- They Sort-Of succeeded (sorry Vlad but science marches on) and Maddie proved ectoplasm and Lazarus water were related. LoA allowed her to stay and continue her research, providing her with funding so long as she sent reports. Occasionally she had to do a mission since she was in the area, but it was usually simple and low stakes.

- Then, when Jazz is 2 years old, Maddie is called back to the League to witness the birth of the Demon’s Heirs. The babies were grown in LW using her data so she basically has to become a physician for the babies.

- The younger twin’s heart stopped when he was pulled out of the water. She rushed to save him, using pure ectoplasm from her research and it worked. Even though Danyal is deemed the inferior twin, he’s kept alive and trained to act as a benchmark/motivation for the true heir Damian.

- Maddie falls in love with the little boy whose health she’s in charge of. Talia notes that this researcher cares for her child as if it was her own.

- When Ra’s decides to have Danny and Damian duel as a sort of initiation and trial to prove his worth as the heir (something that leaves psychological scars on both Danny and Damian, thanks Ra’s.), Damian kills Danny and Maddie is devastated over the body.

- Talia grabs her and the body and sneaks them into the Lazarus pits to bring her child back. Then she hands Danny to Maddie and tells her to raise him as her own, protect him as her own, and she will erase Maddie’s debt to the league.

- Maddie runs with her new son back to America and tells her family that the job she had is completed and “hey Jack sorry I forgot to mention our son I was so caught up in my work! Yeah, whenever I visited five years ago I got pregnant and forgot to mention it! Whoopsie daisy!”

- Jack believes this because he’s forgetful sometimes and also why would his lovely, beautiful, brilliant wife lie to him. He welcomes five year old Danny into his life as his son despite him only superficially looking like him and for some reason having much darker skin. Who knows, genetics isn’t his area of expertise!

- Besides even if Maddie lied to him she probably had a good reason! He’s always wanted a son anyway!!

- Jazz is far more suspicious of this but she’s all of seven and also this poor kid looks terrified and traumatized so. She’ll let it go. And also help him settle in, as is right for a Big Sister.

- Danny has psychological and physical scars but grows up loved and cared for. He misses his brother, but he wasn’t worthy to stand beside him—grandfather said so and it must be so. He didn’t want to be a weight on his brother’s neck, dragging him down

- He makes friends with Tucker and then Sam who don’t judge him for strange mannerisms and who like him for who he is.

- Maybe it’s not the life he would have chosen for himself, but it is a good life. He decides he can be happy here in Amity Park, secure in the knowledge that his brother was off conquering and thriving.

- Then Maddie and Jack finish the Portal, which would theoretically allow travel into the Ghost Zone to continue their work. The pinhole fractures they can now reliably create to power weapons and technology prove the theory and this is the next step!

- Danny Dies In The Portal and a hole is ripped open between worlds. DP series takes place as normal!

- Mixed Reveal since Maddie and Jack are researchers first and foremost. They don’t want to hurt their children but they want to study! They capture a different ghost so they can learn more about how the anatomy works, because they need to take care of their half-ghost son.

- Danny is appalled and horrified to find them dissecting some struggling specter. They are so fucking earnest about it, trying to tell him that they want to make sure they understand how he’s put together so if he gets hurt they can help and it’s not like they can Kill ghosts so it’s only a temporary necessity in pursuit of knowledge!!

- Danny releases the ghost and later, steals their research and destroys the portal. He flees. He knows they won’t hurt him but he thought they wouldn’t Do That either and they did so he’s terrified.

- Danny’s friends help him escape and set up a fake id and passport. His plan is to get to Gotham and find the Bat who will hopefully be able to Adult this situation. He’s not expecting to be welcomed as his son; by all accounts the Batman has no idea Talia even made children with his DNA so he isn’t even going to mention being his son.

- Meanwhile Damian has been Robin for four years and slowly adjusting to his new normal. He doesn’t think about his dead brother; he isn’t allowed to, and though he’s left the league, the league has not left him entirely.

- He is patrolling with his father when an unknown teenager flags them down. Batman is suspicious of course but the kid seems to be earnestly calling for help. He has Robin hang back out of caution and approaches the unknown himself.

- Holy Fuck He Looks Like Damian

- He doesn’t act like a clone or anything. He has an impressively obvious midwestern accent and uses slang like a typical teen. He tells him, a little hysterically, about his parents being scientists and the fucking portal to hell they opened in their basement, about finding them experimenting on an inter-dimensional being that may or may not be an actual human spirit, and briefly details taking his sisters car across four states in a manic road trip to find the Batman.

- Batman is like, why me? There are closer heroes. Why not call the justice league hotline?

- “Hoo boy Mr. Batman see the thing is Amity Park is Dangerous and full of ghosts so I didn’t want metas showing up where they’d get overshadowed and I’d have to? Like? Fight a possessed Superman or something.”

- Why would you be the one fighting??

- Danny is impressively bad at keeping his mouth shut about secrets but to be fair, he’s meeting his father for the first time and the Batman is super cool and intimidating and also he’s remembering his mom and his brother and that’s reminding him of his new family and how everything has probably irreparably fallen apart and oh no

- Oh no he’s crying in front of Batman. Oh fuck, he’s sobbing in front of his father and this is his first impression. Oh ancients he’s never gonna want anything to do with Danny after this mess and it’s not like he was going to say anything but apparently there was this small hope at the bottom of his heart that he’d be welcomed and loved. That somehow his Father would just know this was his son and hug him and make everything better.

- Batman is awkwardly trying to decide if he wants to risk hugging a dangerous unknown, unstable possible-meta-adjacent teenager while he’s having a breakdown on a rooftop when Robin lands next to him and says something that freezes the blood in Bruce’s veins:

- “Brother?”

[medusas-graveyard]

Someone you used to know.

Concept:

an AU where after Danny's parents find out the truth about his biology, they turn their weapons against him; affectively leaving him no choice but to run away. There was no longer a 'Daniel James Fenton'; a child long dead after he was killed via electrocution. He cuts contact with everyone— and I mean everyone; only the god of time knows where he is. He turns to Gotham to start a new life there; under the guise of 'Danyal Nightingale', a homeless kid in crime alley, under the protection of the sentient city herself.

Enter: Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne was quite the enigma to him. The teen basically knew everything about self defense, but Bruce is rich rich; Danny can't really understand why he would need to be athletic as shit for "self defense" when he's pretty sure he could've just hire mercenary level bodyguards. But he doesn't pry on it too much; because Danny understands that somethings are better to not poke around at.

They both grew up. Danny still couldn't understand Bruce. They grew closer, yes; but Bruce would literally... disappear. Like— for long amounts of time. He would ask Alfred for his whereabouts, but the butler simply shook his head, insisting that Bruce would be fine.

And he was right, technically.

The (now pretty grown) man would always come back, even if he was battered and bruised. He would wave off his best friend's worries with "I'm fine"s and "stop worrying"s that just fueled his distaste about Bruce leaving.

And then Bruce left, again.

While he was slightly annoyed by Bruce's constant disappearance, he can't help but just sigh in resignation at the hard headed billionaire. Bruce will come back.... eventually, at least.

He was right; Bruce did come back.

But he didn't.

He couldn't.

He was trapped inside a neverending nightmare.

Because they found him.

Years pass by and his whole body felt numb, numb, numb. He's always either strapped inside a straight jacket in an empty room or torn open like a frog in biology class, on top of a surgery table. He doesn't remember how to speak, what he sounded like, what food tasted like— how it felt to move freely. Because all he could do over the past years (decade?) Is silently take the torture if simply existing.

On a good day, they would let him dream. He dreamt of talking, hyperfixating about stars and Greek mythology— he dreamt of playing tag and cooking messily in a kitchen; all with a boy and older man whose face he doesn't remember. On those days his life felt a little more bearable; like it gives him the motivation to just exist.

"... there's no way you're named after a bird."

"....ne. What's yours?"

"Danny is a nice name."

"Hey, wh— HEY! Get down from there!"

"Don't be such a worrywart. I'll see you soon, Danny."

".....Danny"

".....Danny!"

"Danny....?"

His dazed eyes weakly focused on the familiar voice calling his name; the sight of a dark figure by the lab door greets his line of sight.

He's strapped on the table; chest still wide open as the figure rushes over him. He could hear their heart rattling inside their ribcage and their heaving breaths.

....no. this is all just a dream.

[starry-bi-sky]

DPxDC Masterpost

Almost all of my DPDC posts have the #Danny Fenton is Not the Ghost King tags, barring perhaps my earliest aus like my Thomas Wayne Au (which will be included in the post). This tag includes art i've made, asks i've answered, and non-fic au posts I've created. This is my main tag!

DPxDC posts under the main tag that don't have their own tag: Danny's Life-Changing Cross-Dimensional Roadtrip with A De-Aged Batman Danny is also Bruce Wayne (Starry goes back to their middle school roots) Danny being the first batkid (if i can get the creative juices flowing I will expand on this. mark my words) There is a Damian clone LOOSE in Amity Park. Oh wait, Danny's got him.

My Biggest DPxDC Aus #Danny Fenton is a Clone: all my posts talking about clone!Danny.

Clone Danny Masterpost: previously my pinned post. A no-powers au where Danny is also a clone of Bruce Wayne, also includes some clone^2

#Clone^2: Clone Damian + Clone Danny au combined, explores themes like identity, found family, and growing into your own as a person. Starting post Here.

#Childhood Friends Au or #Cfau: A childhood friends dead on main au that explores grief, how it may change a person, and how growing up in Crime Alley changed Danny. Contains heavier themes like smoking and mild violence.

#Danyal Al Ghul Au: Mostly contains my au where Danny is not Damian's twin, but his older brother! An excuse for me to delve into the psychological effects that growing up in the League would have on Danny that I don't really see in other DAG aus. Putting the 'assassin' in 'raised by assassins'.

My Minor DPxDC Aus Danny Fenton is Thomas Wayne: an oldie but a goodie! An reveal gone wrong au where Danny decides to go by his middle name 'Thomas' shortly after the events of TUE, and leaves Amity Park two years later. He finds out that Vlad cloned him again and finds an infant in the lab. Danny takes the baby, names him Bruce, and ends up adopted by the Waynes.

#Danny Fenton is Jason Todd au: An au where Danny is Jason Todd! He was adopted by the Fentons shortly after the events of the carjacking.

#Older Brother Danny: contains all of my aus where Danny is an Older Brother. This currently includes only my DAG posts but it's not limited to Danyal Al Ghul.

#Changeling Danny: a half-ghost? oh, wait, no. that's a changeling. even worse! Danny's got latent fey blood from a Fenton getting freaky with a faerie some dozen generations ago, and it reactivated with a fervor when he had his accident! Instead of a halfa, he became one of the Fair Folk.

#Blood blossom au: currently the name for the time being. A Nightingale/First Batkid au where Vlad poisons Danny with blood blossom extract, and it results in Danny running to Batman! Currently only one post, but it has a lot of branching pathways in the reblogs. Batdad centered! Now comes with its own fanfic!

#tales of the passerine: the official au name for my "Danny being the first batkid" post! This au is what inspired changeling Danny. It's the idea that Danny was the first to be adopted by Bruce, and features me favoring batdad over "lmfao Danny goes fuck you bruce and adopts the other kids" au. Because I want batdad.

(Nightingale is, so far, the official vigilante name for the Eldest Batkid Danny concept on my blog.)

#mother of monsters danny: specifically its mother of monsters dan but i digress. I was messing around with my fem!Danyal au and boom! Her evil timeline self is Layal, the terrifying Mother of Monsters who raises any manner of monstrous beasts. I love her <3

#martha knight au same song, different dance! This is a fem danny version of my aforementioned "Danny is Thomas Wayne" au. Except this time around, Danny is Martha! Arguably my favorite between the two, I feel like I'm able to do more with her than Thomas. Her au's vibe is After All by Christine Ebersole

Bonus Excerpt: a ficlet I made in response to a DPxDC Dead on Main prompt! It's not under the main tag as I didn't make the post, however it can be found if you search #fem danny fenton on my blog. I actually really love this idea so I may make it its own tag in the future.

[stars-obsession-pit]

Idk what the most common tag for “danny and phantom are separate entities” is (I know “pitch pearl” is a name for something but I think that’s specifically the ship version? Idk) but I just had a thought…

What if it that concept was combined with the Danyal Al Ghul / Demon Twins AU?

Like, I can think of a number of potentially interesting ways to take it

“Half ghost twins” Danny and Damian: one is the ghost and other is the human

A teenage(ish) civilian ghost helping Danyal act like a normal civilian child

Or alternatively, a very much not civilian ghost tries to help Danny blend in but has no idea what normal teens are like either so they’re usually way off

Danny working with the ghost someone the League killed (or potentially even someone he himself killed���)

A ghost overshadowed Danny to seek their revenge on the League but then went “wait, this is a traumatized child soldier” and decides they need to help him

Danny died and was tossed in the Lazarus Pit, and when he emerged, another spirit was tagging along at his side

Danny died and was tossed into the Lazarus Pit. His body emerged, but his soul wasn’t in it. Instead, he’d swapped places with another ghost who was now controlling his body while he tried to coach them on not getting his body killed until they can find out how to swap back

[samgirl98]

Forgotten Demon Twin 9/?

Prev | Next

Danny came face-to-face with green eyes.

Damian was here.

“Hey Val, can we have that order to go?”

Tucker and Sam looked toward where Danny’s attention was and immediately understood. They looked at each other before turning toward the half-ghost, worried.

“Sure thing,” Valerie said while looking a bit confused. Curiosity swam in her eyes. Sam paid for the food, and they stood to the side, silent.

“Hey Fenturd!”

Danny sighed. He really didn’t want to deal with Dash right now, especially with Damian watching.

“What do you want, Dash?”

“Because of you, I got thrown earlier. It’s time for me to return the favor,” he said while hitting his left hand with his right fist.

From the corner of his eyes, Danny saw the man, Dick, hold Damian down. His twin brother looked livid.

“Can we do this later,” he asked, “I’m not in the mood, Dash. I’ve had a pretty shitty day.”

“And it’s about to get worse.”

Danny didn’t even try to dodge the fist. He had to keep his cover, after all. It’s not as if Dash’s hit hurt anyway. His grandfather, hell, Damian has hit him harder than Dash ever could. Danny instinctively closed his eyes.

The hit never came.

When he opened his eyes, Dick held Dash’s fist.

“I think that’s enough, don’t you?”

Dick was glaring at Dash, and holy shit did he look scary. Well, he was a vigilante.

Dash flinched a bit and then backed off. But not before giving Danny a murderous look. Great, something else he would have to deal with at school. Why did these people have to show up and mess with his life? He had been doing fine until they decided to meddle.

“Here’s your order,” Valerie said. She stared at Dick and then toward Danny.

“Danyal, how could you let trash like that bother you? We taught you better than that.”

Danny scowled and ignored his twin, “Thanks, Val.”

He got the order and walked out of the diner with Sam and Tucker following behind him. It didn’t deter Damian.

“Dami,” the man, Dick, said his brother’s name in a warning tone. Who would’ve thought the precious heir would ever allow anyone to talk to him that way?

Danny felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He didn’t think. He took the hand and flipped the person attached to it. Unfortunately, Damian didn’t land on his ass but did a flip in the air before landing on his feet in a crouch.

People were staring at him. His classmates were pointing and whispering to each other. Fuck! So much for keeping a low profile. He could imagine the gossip being born.

“What do you want,” Danny asked, “You’re just ruining the life I’ve made here.”

“I want you to come home, Danyal. You belong with father and me.”

Damian saw Danyal’s face darken with anger.

“It’s Danny. And I already have a dad. His name is Jack Fenton. Leave me alone, Damian Wayne.”

“Did he just say ‘Wayne’?” People were muttering and looking through their phones. Some were even taking pictures.

“Tt,” so much for a low profile.

“Not so fun to have your cover blown, is it akhi?”

Danyal left with his two friends, leaving Damian behind.

____

John Constantine, Hellblazer, occult detective, the Laughing Magician, was not having a good time before the Bat called. Batman told John about the Anti-Ecto Acts, and he could feel himself getting an aneurism.

Who the fuck decided that putting a hit out on the denizens of the Infinite Realms was a good idea? He knew it was against them because only creatures from the Infinite Realms produced and used ectoplasm. He didn’t know much about Infinite Realms, so he sat down with as many books as he could find.

John took a swig of scotch straight from the bottle. Then, he started researching.

Contrary to what most people thought, John spent more time in books and doing research than fighting monsters and demons. He had told Bats to give him a few hours to learn more.

What he found worried him. There were very few weaknesses that these so-called ghosts had. Some of them had never been human, to begin with, and were personifications of concepts. Dreams, time, nature. They were more akin to gods.

And the bloody US government had basically declared war on these beings.

John sighed as he turned the page to the book he was reading. It was going to be a long day.

Hmm, maybe he should call for some help. Deadman might know more about the ghosts of the Infinite Realms.

Making up his mind, John started the ritual to summon the other members of Justice League Dark. Besides, what’s the point of being part of a team if you don’t get help occasionally?

____

Danny had decided to leave his friends behind. He just wanted to be alone. After what happened in Nasty Burger, Danny felt tired.

He opened the door to his house and was met with Vlad’s smirking face.

Fuck.

“Hello, Dann-o! Vlad decided to come visit us,” his dad said with feigned enthusiasm. That was a first.

His mom came from the kitchen holding cups of hot tea.

“I can see that,” Danny said, “to what do we owe this?”

“Oh, you know, I’ve found out some interesting things and wanted to make sure secrets weren’t being spilled. Yowch!”

Danny suppressed a giggle. His mom ‘accidentally’ dropped some of the tea on Vlad’s crotch.

“Oh, I am so sorry about that. Let me go get a clean towel for you.”

“I’ll be in my room,” Danny said as the chaos unfolded. Besides, he wanted to know why Plasmius was here. He knew the moment he locked himself in his room, a duplicate of the older halfa would be there.

Lo and behold, he had been right.

“So, Daniel, or should I say Danyal? It’s time we talked, hmm?”

Danny tensed. Vlad knew.

Fuck!

@itsberrydreemurstuff @youracearocroatneighbour @imsotiredfanficlovertm @nek0mancer

[merakimelareloaded]

Another DC × DP crossover concept, specifically secret twin au:

I've seen most people pick "Danyal" or the occasional "Abidan" as Danny's OG name (absolute bangers don't get me wrong)

I think we're all missing a great opportunity for it to be "Cosmas" (stay with me people!)

As in St Damian and St Cosmas, the twin Arab physicians who were the patrons of twins! There'd be no way it wouldn't cross Tahlia's mind after already coming up with Damian, right? PLUS, when you look at the meaning of the name, it's "universe". Who do we know who's obsessed with space? 👀

Honestly, it works perfectly in my eyes. I fully plan on including this in the fic I'm writing, but I definitely wouldn't be mad if I saw others using it too!

[bluerosefox]

Danyal, Danny, Phantom.

Part 1 (Where the idea came from, very bare bones)

Okay wow, wasn’t expecting so many people wanting a part 2 tbh, also thank you for the follows as well (although IDK why you’d want to follow me, I’m random and rarely post sometimes.)

So before I get into this part 2, I just wanna make a few things clear.

I’m still new to DC/Batman most I know if from the animated series and I haven't seen it in ages, I have been able to get bits and pieces here and there though.

ANYONE is welcomed to use these ideas/concepts, just let me know, send me it, allow me to read it please. If anyone wants to draw some the ideas too that’ll be amazing, just let me know! I wanna see!

Also, I might, keyword MIGHT, actually write this idea into a story too, idk yet maybe. its been years since I wrote an actual fic tbh so I’m a little rusty. (You can actually see I used more of my writing style on this one compared to the last one tbh)

Also the reason I split these idea/concept into parts is the fact I tend to ramble and I knew if I wrote it on part 1 it would had gotten so long so here’s a fresh page with the rest of the ideas...

So the reason why I had this idea is because I read some fics where Ra’s always knows about Danny being either the Ghost King or a Halfa, or can fight him cause he has knowledge, I wanted a story where even Ra’s can be surprised and realizes there will ALWAYS be a ‘bigger’ fish even for that old ‘immortal’ (especially if Danny is Ra’s “failure of a heir.”)

Sorry this took a while, I wrote Part 1 at the end of me being sick by Covid, had to catch up on a few RL things, and legit a few days later my AC unit upstairs broke during a CA heatwave and it was pure HECK being in my room.

Danny is a little out of character but this is how I feel he'll be like with a year of being the Ghost King could be, along with the fact he has help from his friends and ghost friends as well. He's learned how to rule and has grown.

Oh be prepared, this is what happens when I’m allowed to ramble on ideas. This... This got rambly. (You should had seen this and part 3 together, it was so rambly)

So, a few things to note about Danny before we begin.

His name was is Danyal al Ghul (Wayne) Daniel “Danny” Fenton.

He was also known as (Ghost Boy, Ghost Child, Ghost Punk, Halfa) Danny Phantom

He also had other names as well such as The Great One, or Savoir of the Ghost Zone

But... for the last year he has been known as...

Ruler of the Infinite Realm, His Royal Highness King Phantom. Or as he would rather be simply referred to as (when he’s forced to have/use a title)...

The Ghost King.

...King Phantom also worked.

Simple yes, but Danny preferred it. (Again only when he’s forced to use a title, which sadly since being crowned the new King is most of the time now and only those close to him still call him Danny or at the very least Daniel (coughClockworkcough).

SO.... Its had been a year since Danny had been crowned the new Ghost King, sure he was still a teen and it was honestly very hard in the beginning. Learning the ins and outs of the royal courts, setting up his inner court (aka those he trusted), dealing with entitled nobles, and how to handle the the weight of the crown he now wore but he knew he didn't have to face it by himself. Well not all of it, there was a few things he did on his own in order to prove he's a fair King, but Danny honestly loved it when he could get together with his inner circle (more like family) and discuss the recent news of the Infinite Realm (which Danny learned was the actual name of the Ghost Zone, he long since switched to using that name over the one his parents coined), problems needing to be addressed, and upcoming important festivals or days (Danny knew of the Holiday Truce but he didn't know of any other Ghost holidays/festivals until his ghost friends explained them to him) along with a number of his Kingly duties. This was just barely touching the surface of what Danny had to do nearly daily and again it took a while but he eventually was getting the hang of being a King.

Funny enough one of those duties turned out to be healing the oozing scars the old Ghost King left on the Mortal Realm during his reign... because those scars eventually became the Lazarus Pits and had they been causing harm in the Mortal Realm.

By the Ancients, the Lazarus Pits.

That was something Danny hadn't been expecting to hear so soon after regaining his memories from before living with the Fenton’s. And when Clockwork explained it to him, a small smirk on the always age changing beings face, that all the Pits would eventually dry up thus they would no longer be able to revive the dead once Danny started healing them...

Danny had laughed when he had been told this information.

He laughed until he had started to cry. He had even laughed so hard he changed back from his ghost form to his living one and then back again because he lost breath from his laughter. (It actually concerned his friends, Dani and Jazz when this happened tbh) It took a while but when Danny’s laughter finally trailed into hiccups, light coughs, and deep breaths, Clockwork merely floated over and asked with all-knowing smirk on his face “Quite done Daniel?”

You see the reason why this was funny to Danny was the fact that he was finally getting revenge on his ex-grandfather for... well for everything. And he was going to enjoy ruining Ra’s al Ghul treasured little Lazarus Pits with pure glee. The amount of pure joy he felt knowing this even surpassed his feelings for when he’s able to mess up Vlad’s evil plans for the month.

As mentioned before, Danny had no memories upon waking up in a hospital after nearly losing his life from wounds no child should ever have on their bodies. It wasn’t until the night after his crowning that as he dreamed of his past, it was in these dreams he had finally remembered everything. When he had woken up he had instantly went flying to Clockwork’s lair to speak with the time keeper, especially when he had remembered the last thing he had saw before waking up in the hospital.

[“Why?” that was all Danny would ask when seeing the ageless ghost, not bothering to say hello or even small talk like they normally would do, if he had been his living form he would had been breathing heavily from the speed he flown to get there.

“It hadn’t been your time, your Highness.” was the only reply before the ticking of clocks in the room filled the silence between them.]

He had been Danyal al Ghul, the second heir to the Demon Head Ra’s al Ghul, the League of Assassins leader and his grandfather, son of Talia al Ghul, and twin brother to first heir Damian al Ghul.

Talia, his mother, was a stoic woman. A true Assassin. Beautiful yet deadly.  Someone Danyal could see now who would do anything to stay in power if he was to be honest with himself. But she did love him and Damian in her own way, only showing them this parental love when they were alone, away from servants and other assassin’s eyes. Some of his fondest memories of the woman had been her cupping his face and speaking softly of how much he looked like her “Beloved”, their father. His eyes, and hair (and his 'soft' heart) were the only things he knew about his father, the only thing he has been allowed to know.

Damian, his twin brother, both of them mostly sharing the same face with small differences and build at the time, his other half, the one that he had came into this world together had, was, is the one Danyal would die for. And he did. His brother was the prefect heir, the prefect budding assassin in the eyes of the others in Nanda Parbat. Much like their mother he tended to try to hide his emotions behind an emotionless mask, he always carried himself stronger than Danyal would, despite them both being five years old they had been born into this life and learned very quickly how to survive that place. But behind closed doors the two would often talk in whispers, of the what ifs of their lives, how their day was, etc etc. Danyal’s fondest memories of his brother was them sneaking out to watch the stars late at night and making a promise to always face any problem together as they held hands and lightly tapped each with their fingers.   

His grandfather, Ra’s however was a ruthless and cold man. An ‘immortal’ due to the Lazarus Pits that always brought him back to life, and he had always hated Danyal. No matter what Danyal would do it was always a failure to his grandfather, it didn’t matter if he tried his hardest to be a ‘perfect’ little assassin like his brother, everything he did in the older man’s eyes was a mistake. Any mistakes Danyal did was often met with punishment and pain. He had no fond memories of the man, only a deep seeded mutual dislike if anything.

And it was with this hatred for Danyal, that had caused Ra’s to summon both his grandchildren one night to the combat room and demanded for them both to fight for heir ship. A fight that would end in one of them dying, something all of them in room knew it would lead to. A fight two five years did not want to do but had no choice. Not even Talia’s disbelieving single protest to the fight could not stop Ra’s command.

As the Demon Head, his word was law.

In the end, Danyal couldn’t wouldn’t harm his brother (his grandfather always hated how ‘soft’ his heart was, "to much like his father" was often said with a tsk). They were both only five years old, they were brought into the world together, they told secrets behind closed doors and whispered dreams under the endless sea of stars they would sneak out to see, they would lightly tap messages with their fingers when the other would have bad days and didn’t wish to speak about it but wanted some sort of comfort.

He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t harm his brother but Damian... Danyal knew Damian would follow the order to fight despite not wanting to as well, Damian always followed orders with little to no fuss unlike Danyal who always second guessed with whys and questions, Danyal also knew Damian would believe he would fight back in defense at least...

But he didn’t.

Some of the few things he remembered was Damian’s eyes widen in horror, his mother’s uncaring mask and body twitch for a moment, and his grandfather ‘tsking’ at him before he fell onto the cold stone floor. After that his memory became hard to remember, foggy but he knew of this.The pain he felt hurt and he tried so hard to stay alive for a few moments more, he could barely hear anything over his own harsh and deep breathing, his body felt heavy and his hands felt wet from the blood seeping out around him. Danyal could barely hear his grandfather’s voice, and could barely make out Ra’s leaving while his mother guided Damian out of the room, she did not look back and Damian moved like a puppet on a string being pulled away. Danyal barely registered hands lifting him up and carrying him out of the room, his vision slowly fading as he was carried in the dimly lit halls of his ‘home’. His memory became very spotty after that, barely noticing he had been left outside the compound to die and as he took in a harsh breath in an attempt to get air, he could hear two words as clear as day.

“Time Out.” and the only sound following those two words was the ticking of clocks while the last thing he saw was the always changing form of a ageless being.

After that Danyal would be found outside of a random hospital in America, far from his place of birth, far from his mother and brother, barely hanging as doctors rushed to save this five year olds life. He would awake weeks later, with no memories of his own to speak of, and then one night a strange star plush/pillow would be gifted to him with the name Daniel on it. He would be bounced around foster home to foster home after he was cleared to leave the hospital and the cops had no leads on who or where he came from.

Daniel would eventually meet Jazz at the park and later her parents and worm his way into their hearts, he would later be adopted by them and live a somewhat normal life (as one can be with ghost hunting parents but at least he got Jazz as an older sister, even with Jack and Maddie’s rather unhealthy... obsession with ghosts he knew they loved him)

Ra’s failed second heir was no more, his name and life no longer mentioned in Nanda Parbat, Danyal al Ghul (Wayne) was by all intents and purpose dead to the man and to the League.

Now Daniel “Danny” Fenton lived in his place...

Up until that fateful day when he was fourteen, after that he was only half alive and once again became someone kind of new. A halfa this time. Danny Phantom.

And who would had guessed (not Ra’s that's for sure), he later would become The Ghost King, the Ruler of the Infinite Realm.                   

So imagine Danny’s surprise when as he had left his house for school one morning, he may be a King but hey he still needed his education according to Jazz (and Clockwork), when he had been ambushed and attacked by some assassins from the League and knocked out... (Shush his own assassin training was rusty and he hadn’t had time to practice them too much, his last major battle had been that all out brawl a week before his coronation with him vs his enemies, fun times. He also rarely got kidnapped since his crowning, half awake due to his Kingly duties and studying for Mr. Lancer’s 70% final grade test (Fun fact I had an actual teacher who did this) that Friday and honestly Danny wasn’t expecting assassins from the League to show up since the whole being pretty much declared dead to them thing)

Only to later slowly wake up on the familiar rough stone ground in Nanda Parbat (the smell, the sounds, the stonework. He often saw them in his dreams and memories but knew it was real this time) his hands bound and his body aching from laying motionless on the hard ground for a while. He put on a confused look on his face as he slowly rose and groaned in pain as he subtly took a moment to look around.

Thank the Ancients Danny still knew how to fake an injury, and play dumb/confused from his time tricking some of the his more annoying ex-enemies? (Skulker, Walker, etc.) even though it had been a year since he last had to do so with them (besides Vlad, he’s still his enemy no matter what and still seemed really salty Danny was a King now and was treated like an outcast by most ghosts, none wanting to be the opposite side of their King so hey perks). It had been a good way to make them drop their guards if they thought Danny was still at his ‘weakest’ when they caught him by surprise. It still pretty funny when Vlad tries though, this act always catches that fruitloop off-guard no matter how many times.     

It was a Lazarus Pit room judging by the smell/feel of it at first and later confirmed when he noticed the green toxic ooze nearby. Ugh just being on this side of the Realm and sensing that stuff was disgusting, it wasn’t as bad in the Infinite Realm due to the fresh and clean ectoplasm around it masking most of the bad smell but boy did it reek on this side. 

Danny blinked a few times to sell his acting, whispering a confused “Where am I?” under his breath, and looked around before his eyes landed on someone in front of him and flinched back a bit, no acting needed this time.

Ra’s was in the room sitting on a throne chair staring at him with that ever burning hateful glare yet Danny could see another emotion, an emotion he was very used to Vlad having on his fruitloop face. His ex-grandfather had a plan and it was gonna be painful or annoying for Danny to deal with, he knew it...

And...AND was that knocked out Batman and Robin also tied up in chains and guarded by few assassins in the room as well?! WHY IS THAT A THING?!

-x-x-

Heyyyyy so... umm I decided to split it into another part cause it was getting mega long again when all together and I was like roughly halfway done with it and just... I wanted to write out so much, also Tumblr almost made me loose the WIP of this many many times so I’m being careful. Good news almost done with it (and it won’t take as long as this part did promise)

This is basically Danny’s side of things of being King, his inner thoughts, his past relationships with the al Ghul’s, and snippets how he had grown into his King self tbh. Probably didn't need to do this but as an old school writer I wanted to make a base so to speak. The best and fun part is up next. and to prove it, here’s the title and a sneak peek for it.

Summoning a King (Or alternatively: It was at this moment, Ra’s knew he F’d up.)

Yeah as said before it took ALL of Danny’s training not laugh in hysterics. Oh the irony. Sacrificing the Ghost King... to summon the Ghost King.... Danny honestly wanted to say something, the words on his lips being a sarcastic “You sure that's gonna work out for you, you moldy old fruitloop?” but Danny bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from doing so.

TAGLIST:

Also I’m starting a tag list so if anyone wants on it for the next part please let me know asap so I can add you.

[EDIT: Taglist now closed until next update! Sorry!]

@sxnkisses @thenerdycupcake @sealover89 @remydumb @moonscat @fuck-you-too-world @hecate-hollow @ae-vixrose

[medusas-graveyard]

Letting this out of my system before I fall asleep;

Danny developing D.I.D. because yk what. Basically there's 3 (or 4 if it's a Danny/Damian siblings AU) with one being the host aka Danny, one being the protector aka Phantom, one being the Persecutor aka Daniel (and if it's a siblings au one is the gatekeeper aka Abidan/Danyal depends on which you prefer)

Adopted Wayne au again, yes, except: Danny doesn't know he has DID. He just thinks that after he died his memories are blotched, even after doing something he sometimes doesn't realize he's doing it. Cue Danny overthinking stuff one day while talking to his adopted siblings about how he's not sure if they could come to understand him even though he doesn't understand himself (very weird thing to say, huh?) But they reassure him that they're all doing their best and he needs to give himself a break.

BUT the catch; they don't know each other's double life. Danny doesn't want to be a vigilante— he doesn't want them to KNOW he was a vigilante. Batfamily isn't spilling their night endeavors with the normal child in the family that grimaces everytime they 'discuss' about heroes.

ANOTHER CATCH: Danny is the only one that doesn't know the Waynes are the bats and birds. His alters though, does. Daniel and Phantom isn't too pleased about ANOTHER rich man. Cue Phantom antagonizing Batfamily, saying that if something were to happen to Danny he would just take him away (considering they don't even know what Phantom is, safe to say they're paranoid)

Sorry, I listened to me and the devil for like an hour straight and this suddenly popped out. Also I just think it's funny how Danny and Waynes all civil and basically caring for each other and then night turns, Bats and Birds ready to bash fists with Phantom.

On another note, I'd like to push the emphasis that Danny is constantly missing his memories in this concept. For reference, imagine Duke walking up to him in the Kitchen (Daniel was about to make coffee) and greeted him. Danny just spaced out for a while, blinked, look at what he's holding, and blurt "what am I doing again...?"

As you've might guessed, Alfred was the one who found out first.

[starry-bi-sky]

DPXDC Idea: Mother of Monsters Dan(yal)

Specifically Fem!Dan because I made this in mind with my Fem Danyal Au bUT. The best part about Dan is that I get to play dress up with her, and Fem Dark Dany is gonna go by Layal (pronounced lae-el) because it means "the nights" and it sounds similar to Danyal, and I think she'd choose that name to mock Dany. ANYWAYS

Mother of Monsters Danyal. She may be evil but she's an Al Ghul at her core (even with vlad's soul merged with hers - however, considering that Layal looks and sounds like Dany, she considers that soul to be the more dominant one.) and loves animals. And she might be heartless, but she adores the monsters of the infinite realms.

Mother of Monsters Layal who hates everyone but utterly dotes and adores on every manner of beast she comes across. Stealing the eggs and infant young beasts of the Infinite Realms to raise as her own because she wanted them. Her own island full of monsters, a monstrous menagerie of her own. She steals most often from poachers or exotic pet keepers and other menageries -- the full grown beasties can keep their young.

And with every monster she raises, she can shapeshift their features onto herself, allowing her to change her shape from humanish to any matter of monster or hybrid creature. She calls herself their mother, and them her children. Her precious little babies, capable of incredible mass destruction and mayhem.

From little griffins the size of kittens, to stymphalian vulture chicks, and leviathan young hatching from eggs the size of her pinkie, to creatures native of the ghost zone that didn't even have names in the living realm. There really wasn't a limit to what or who she would take in and she didn't limit herself to any form of mythology. If they were beasts and they were unwanted, she wanted them. And as such, amassed her own mini army of "children" willing to listen to her any command.

Earth doesn't know what hit it when she attacks them.

There are many monstrous forms she could take on, the first one I've thought of is a combination of various serpentine/reptilian features. The body of a naga -- her lower half long and serpentine, her upper still human -- with spiked fins connecting from the bottom of her arms to her sides, ever seen Sinbad where Eris goes "you might have seen my likeness on the temple walls" and her arms do that fin thingy? Same concept. Her hands are webbed and taloned, perfect for slicing through the skin of the living, and her teeth are needle-sharp and shark like. Her hair can either be spiny and feathery-like like the spines of a lionfish, or frilled like a frilled-neck lizard. It's perfect for dealing and doting on her reptilian and amphibian-inclined darlings.

I'm more of a fan of aus where Dan is a sibling of Danny's rather than their kid, so Layal's redemption(..?? probation?) proceeds with her legally becoming Danyal's "twin" sister, who had been lost to the foster system before the Fentons adopted Dany, and was only recently reunited with her. The two of them look so alike that the lie is easy to take root and spread.

Layal is very indignant to the fact that she's now ten years in the past and has to restart her menagerie all over again. Do you know how much blood and sweat went into raising those children? How dare you separate them from their mummy. Although she'll admit she does miss their juvenile years, so she won't mind (too much) needing to raising them again. Dany is helping her retrieve all of them though, dammit.

long story short: epic the musical's "Scylla" has a CHOKEHOLD on me and this is the result of it

Unlike her Dan counterpart, Layal's voice is dancing and sirenic. It's purposely alluring and motherly, in order to lure people into a false sense of security until she feeds them to her "children." Echidna doesn't have shit on her. She almost seems friendly and reasonable, until you get too close and realize it was all an act and she drops it to metaphorically swallow you whole. She's like an anglerfish that way. She and Dany both sound like Scylla from Epic.

[suohenki]

some vampire oc doodles/ Louis, Danyal, Lilya (and another Louis)

[starwrighter]

So I'mma just make this worse real quick

So sticking with the concept of Damian and Danny having a terrible relationship as kids with Danny being the weaker twin. The whole 'fighting to be the only living heir' thing really fucked over whatever relationship the two of them could have had.

Here's where I'm diverging from the prompt. Instead of Damian being the one who's angry and bitter over what happened in the league, it's Danny who's (Rightfully so) upset about everything that happened. They haven't seen eachother in years; both boys have had the chance to unlearn behaviors and grow as people in a semi healthy environment.

Damian has had so much character development since he came to live with his father and has come to feel guilty about the things he did when he was apart of the league. Damian is now apart of a relatively healthy family relationship and grieves for his brother. He now thinks of Danny as someone he was supposed to protect and not only did he fail to do so, he at times was the one who hurt him. Damian remembers his twin as a sweet and snarky kid who was way too kind for the family he was born into and regrets not being the brother Danny deserved to have.

When the batfam comes rushing into the cave panicking about Damian having a clone Damian has a breakdown because his twin is alive somehow??? He knows it's Danyal because he spent his early years despising his brother's eyes and later spent a good chunk of his teen years desperately trying to picture what those eyes would look like if he was still alive. He knows those are Danyal's eyes because he's spent countless hours drawing them.

It's a total punch to the gut when Danny ignores/hides from the batfam. I mean finding out your dead twin is alive and in danger but won't let you help them because you hurt them so badly in the past would have to be devastating.

That's really all I have for this idea, just Damian trying to reconcile with his brother and Danny wanting nothing to do with him. (Hits harder if Danny is the younger sibling)

What if in the Damian and Danny twins au instead of them having a loving close relationship Damian Hated Danny, if Danny was weaker and more emotional Damian would push and get agressive with him for not 'living up to the Al Ghul name' if he was stronger than Damian he'd be filled with jealousy and constantly be trying to knock Danny down. When Talia sends news of his twin's death Damian is pleased he no longer has to fight for the title of Heir.

Danny appears in Gotham and when they get past the whole 'hes not a clone' the whole Batclan is expecting a heartfelt reunion with lots of tears but instead Damian snaps and demands to know how he's alive, that he is to leave Gotham, and how dare Danyal come and try to take his place as his Father's heir. The bats are all in shock of how Damian regressed so fast.

Danny in this could be taken two ways, he always loved Damian but never could seem to gain Damian's love, when reunited he stares into Damian's eyes and is so hopeful, it's been many years they've both matured, maybe Damian will welcome him in open arms? He's absolutely crushed when another family member disowns him, his own twin of all things.

Or B. The feeling was entirely mutual, when he left the league he was so relieved to finally be free of his grandfather, mother, and especially his twin's expectations and anger. He never expected to see Damian again and he's not happy about it. When Damian snaps at him he spits insults and years of pent up frustration right back at him. This could lead to a physical fight they both need to be torn from by the bats.

Angst, enemies to brothers(?) And some hilarious reactions from outsiders.

[absolutefuckingsqualor]

I am incredibly soft for Danyal when he sees Rezan take off her headscarf. I,, fhffjb can’t quite word it, but I’m soft and mushy and I’m very here for the idea

She’s not any sort of devout, it’s actually since she’s become used to wearing it out and partly uses the hijab as an excuse to hide the scar along her throat but stiLL

It’s wrapped loosely, so already there’s hair poking out and curls framing her face, but it still hits him right in the heart when she’ll get back to one of their apartments, tug the thing off, and the rest of her hair poofs out. Being from Iraq, of course he’s used to seeing veiled women, but the concept of one of them taking it off in front of him never really lost its effect on him

He’s just,, stunned really. There’s that initial awe for him mixed with that adoration of seeing her like that, and to be fair — especially since he is a bastard man — I’d be lying if I said Danyal didn’t obsess over how he’s some of the few people to see her without the headscarf on

A bit extra, but he absolutely adores her hair. It’s this thick, curled mess only a tad more unruly than his and he constantly finds himself fawning over it

[tachtutor]

Does Capitalism Contain the Seeds of its Own Destruction?

Does Capitalism Contain the Seeds of its Own Destruction?

[ad_1]

Ahmed Danyal Arif, UK

©Shutterstock

Today more than ever, our civilization is based on the domination of Chronos, the God of time and clocks, constantly reminding us that life is short, that it is a race against time, a countdown that will end with death. 

More particularly, the conception of time plays a fundamental role in economic life. Indeed, human nature can at times be insatiable…

[modosphere]

and the story of us...: a dara drabble

The third (and penultimate) of the Dara wedding drabbles! Apologies for the delay, but I really didn’t want to cut this up further and I wanted to do it justice... Hopefully the ending will make up for it :)

Let me know what you think! Remember, I’m like Tinkerbell. I need applause to live. 

- hen_bee xo

PS. riddled with errors, as I didn’t have time to proof read. I’m sorry!!

Dorothy & Michael Hintze Sculpture Gallery The Victoria & Albert Museum, London 2041 3 Days to Go

“You’re late.”

“I broke my phone.” Danyal murmured, shrugging on his blazer. If he noticed the outrage on Mara’s face, he didn’t show it… And as Mara continued to stare at him, she realised he wasn’t going to.

“And it didn’t occur to you to use any other device to let me know-”

“I’m here now.” Dany interrupted - and although he glanced up at her, it was only for a second, and paired with a brief, polite smile that let Mara know the conversation was over… If it had ever been one. “Shouldn’t we be outside?”

Before Mara had even opened her mouth to respond, Dany was already gone; through the smart, black double doors of the gallery, and beyond; into the square surrounded by beautiful, red-brick buildings with arches and carvings, the gallery pool in the middle.

The garden had been transformed for this; their registration-party-cum-brunch, the event marking the beginning of their wedding week. All of Danyal’s parents’ important business associates were in attendance and, as Mara had been reminded a million times (deliberately and not), acted as an introduction for Dany into the business life. He would start working with his father soon and, well, the Zafars’ business was a family affair, in every sense - and every one of the guests present were being reminded of that, notified of Danyal and Samara Zafar’s arrival onto the scene.

Samara Zafar. Mara’s stomach curled, nausea twisting and slithering its way up her throat in disgust.

Dany’s stag had overrun. He had been due to leave Vegas two days ago, at leisure, without cause for stress - and instead, for some dumbass reason or another, hadn’t left until the late hours of last night. Mara had been making excuses for him all morning - when she hadn’t even been given the courtesy of being told by Danyal what was going on in the first place.

“Dany-” Mara called out quietly - and though there was no way he couldn’t have heard her, he walked on, as if she’d never spoken.

Mara stood as still as she could for a moment, centring herself. She held her breath in her throat and, pretending she was looking idly at the pleasant scene before her, complete with classical music and the tinkling of glasses and polite conversation, rooted herself to the tiny spots on the floor where her heels connected to the ground.

That was the first time she and Danyal had spoken since… Everything. Since before he’d even left Pakistan.

Mara felt stupid for expecting anything different, for thinking he’d do anything but look right through her - and it hit her, then, that as much as she thought she’d accepted it, maybe she hadn’t. Maybe Danyal had heard her message and just… Not really cared.

She felt hollow.

Three more days and he won’t be allowed to make you feel like this anymore, Mara tried to tell herself.

Except feeling it wasn’t the problem. It was the fact Danyal had somehow snatched that opportunity from her in the first place, under the guise of friendship.

But so what? Right now, Mara had a role to play - and she was in too deep to back out now, and they both knew it.

So with a subtle shrug of her shoulders, Mara made sure her pleasantly neutral mask was fixed - and went back out to the crowd guests.

. . .

It was suffocating.

She felt like she was living in a dream; as time wore on, everything felt cartoonish. The smiles of the guests, the forced laughs, the… Excess of it all. The walls of the museum, enclosing the garden, felt like a wall - not to keep them in, but to keep everyone out, and Mara wondered whether, if people who wondered what kind of people hired a museum garden and gallery, who wore fancy designer clothes at brunches, would actually be able to stomach it at all.

Mara had never thought about it like that before. But she couldn’t unsee it - and now, she felt… Glad, to know that she wouldn’t be exposed to it for much longer. In fact, as Mara continued to talk so another faceless banker and her wife about honeymoon destinations and the stock exchange, Mara felt a surge of… Disgust at those around her.

It was a blessing, really. She just wanted to be… Away. And it was good to remember that, remember why she’d come up with this (admittedly) stupid plan in the first place - to find a way to be free. Because - and it as a whole concept, as a fully-formed sentence in her mind - hit her like a ton of bricks; this was her mother’s world. Maddie Kay’s world, filled with fake people and lies and clouds of perfume.

And yes, Mara didn’t think the Zafars were like that. But they were the exception, the strange exception, to an overwhelming rule; and they still belonged in this world. It was theirs, truly theirs, moulded how they wanted and that was… Too much, Mara realised. It was too uncomfortable, to know one family could do so much.

As Mara watched Dany from across the garden, speaking quietly in the corner with his father… She realised that he didn’t even know. Danyal Zafar existed in a world totally separate to 99.9% of the population, and Mara was on the other side of that fence. Her uncle wasn’t in this league. And even if he was close to it, Mara was his… Charity.

Maybe… Maybe if things were different. Maybe if they were both away from this all, things would be easier - Mara bit back a small smirk -, maybe they’d be doing as Dany’s family wanted, maybe they’d fall in love and everything would fall into place. But they wouldn’t. They… Couldn’t. Even when they were standing side by side, like they had been back inside the gallery, Mara realised that the hollowness she’d felt was a world still standing between them.

Mara felt a pang of satisfaction, though, as a small voice reminded her - Divya doesn’t belong here either.

A pang of satisfaction immediately followed by a fresh surge of resentment and then… Surprisingly… Hurt. Because Divvy Kapoor, a girl whose mere name had Mara instinctively rolling her eyes, that was who she was losing to -

Mara blinked, her mask slipping for a moment. Losing to? Losing what, exactly…?

She was tired. She was losing her goddamn mind. And so she made her excuses and, pretending to continue to talk to those on the peripherals of the red-bricked square, made her way to the doors; before slipping into one of the double doors leading back into the gallery.

Mara felt an overwhelming urge to run as she did - but, giving one of the wait-staff a quick, polite smile as they made eye-contact through the glass, Mara figured it wasn’t exactly subtle. She needed a breather. She wasn’t going to get that if the entire garden thought she was getting cold feet.

There it was again - that surge of… Negativity, the overwhelming feeling of being trapped.

Mara took a deep breath - before looking at her surroundings. The chequered floor, the beautiful mix of sculptures, the well-lit museum shop, filled with books on design and art and fashion, tucked away at the top of the small set of stairs in the corner.

There are worse places to be trapped, she reasoned.

Glancing out to the party again, Mara realised that the tents acting as a stock for the canapés and drinks obscured some of the gallery from view - and, with a quick sigh of relief, Mara quickly moved further down the gallery… Until the tents were all but obscuring her from view.

Sighing in relief, Mara leant back and closed her eyes, her bare shoulders brushing the pillar behind her.

She enjoyed that solitude for a few moments. The sudden quiet of the gallery, the peace of only seeing the darkness of her eyelids.

When she finally opened her eyes, looking straight ahead, Mara found herself raising her eyebrows at the sculpture in front of her.

Well, if it could be called that. It was more like some sort of… Carving, but clearly more than that, set up on the wall above a fake fireplace. On the edges, crowds of people watched, aghast, at the figures in the middle; a naked couple, kissing passionately.

Intrigued, Mara pulled her earphones and phone out of her pocket (which she’d had the good sense to keep on her) and slowly walked over, already drowning out the sound of her heels by the time she had reached it.

The first song to start playing had immediately been loud and upbeat - and, irritated at the disruption, Mara quickly chose another song from her playlist; slow, based on the piano and a duet.

She looked back up at the sculpture, before glancing over at the plaque beside it.

‘Harry Bates - 1850-99 War 1887’

She didn’t bother reading anymore. Although it wasn’t exactly cool to admit at dance practice or during business classes, Mara loved art. She loved the subjectivity of it, how you could feel the raw emotion put into something real that you could see and touch and still feel. An annoying plaque telling her about technique or historical context just ruined the initial magic.

They were both barefoot, the couple - and hopelessly entwined, almost desperately so, in a way that had Mara tilting her head and feeling slightly… Sad. One of his hands cupped her neck, the other under her arm, keeping her twisted to face him; and as one of her hands motioned for the crowd behind them to go away, to be ignored, the other clutched onto the arm holding his neck, keeping them locked together.

There was something… Brutal about it. Desperate. Angry.

I hate you, I love you, I hate that I want you, you want her, you need her, but I’ll never be her…

Mara flinched slightly at the song in her ears - and she quickly blinked away the embarrassing tears that suddenly threatened to spill down her face for no reason, as Mara realised that she was… Jealous of the woman in the sculpture. A figment of someone’s imagination. Someone not even real.

But the woman in the sculpture was wanted. It didn’t matter about the crowds jeering, how she was motioning for them to keep away - because there was also something nonchalant about it, like she didn’t care, because she was too caught up in that kiss. Because that man was her anchor, and she was his, and they were constant and Mara didn’t have anyone, not anyone, in her life who felt like that to her. Or, who felt that… Right.

And yes, her daddy issues were not the same as the issues of the couple in the sculpture in front of her, but it was… Resonating, somehow. Changing the song, Mara stepped closer, looking up at the couple; and it was truly beautiful, the detail - she could feel it, feel how much they needed each other, how it was about survival and love and feeling the need to be safe, more than two naked people engulfed in lust.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds - but to Mara, it felt like hours, and she stared so long and so hard at it, something aching inside of her at the scene before her, that by the time she turned away, it felt like if she hadn’t, she’d have burned.

Mara swayed slightly as soul began to play in her ears, and she looked at the two options before her - the part of the gallery she’d already glimpsed, by the doors, or this other side - slightly darker from the tents covering the window and with less traffic. When she’d stood with Dany she’d caught busts and marble casket coverings, as well as large, impressive sculptures of struggling men and beautiful women… But looking to the other side, Mara felt her eyebrows raise at the fewer, scattered sculptures in front of her… Including a naked male torso, caught in the corner of Mara’s vision.

Intrigued, Mara walked over.

She smirked to herself once it was in front of her. It was a torso, a very nice, male torso, lacking a head and forearms and cutting off suggestively a few centimetres down from the top of the thighs - just enough to see the beginning of an, erm, important anatomical feature.

The torso was lean, and muscular, and ripped in a way that boasted a six pack of abs without being vulgar; and as Mara’s fingertips traced the bumps on the severed neck, along the shoulders and down the bicep (there weren’t any signs saying she couldn’t), and Mara genuinely applauded the smoothness of the stone (yes, just that! Artistic appreciation!), she couldn’t help but find it… Familiar.

It hit her, as her fingertips reached the jagged edge of where the arm cut off - it was familiar.

The morning after the night they’d spent at Sean’s party at the water-park; when they’d woken up, half asleep, in Samara’s bath-tub with her uncle knocking at the door. Once Mara had managed to convince him everything was fine - and there definitely wasn’t a boy, let alone the likes of Danyal Zafar, in her room -, Mara, too lazy to do much else, had turned on the taps despite where they still sat. Mara had still been wearing a neon bikini underneath her denim shorts and the baggy white tank top; so she’d sleepily fumbled out of them. Dany, on the other hand, had still been fully dressed - and, dozing until it was too late, had stayed that way in resignation. His white T-shirt had clung to his chest, sticking to the hollows that seemed to follow… A very similar outline to the chest Mara was currently looking at.

Of course, she’d pretended she hadn’t noticed. To him, or to herself.

Her fingers curling slightly in… Discomfort at the thought, Mara pulled her fingers back. Before she could help it (and as much as she didn’t want to see it), a flurry of mental images launched themselves into her mind. Confusing mental images, ones she didn’t want to see.

Ones that made her feel sick. Ones of Divvy caressing Dany’s naked chest - and then of the two of them, entwined back in New York, Dany falling in love while Divvy screwed with his mind… Amongst other things.

Mara glanced around, her eyes desperately looking for something else to focus on. She didn’t have to look for long; because slightly further down, near to the sweeping staircase at the bottom gallery, was another sculpture.

“Someone was feeling frustrated.” Mara muttered to herself, smirking slightly - before walking over.

It was a butt, a nice butt, and seemingly a woman��s butt, judging by the curves of the rest of her body. Like the previous one, it was headless, and only showed a small part of one arm; but it was less… Raw than the other. More seamless, more perfect.

It was one of the larger sculptures and, unlike the other, left little to the imagination - it showed from midway down the thighs, and everything that included, up to the neck. Mara smirked slightly as she saw the male torso, its muscled back and the beginning of a very cute butt of its own, now facing her - before shaking her head and glancing up at the other. Mara was genuinely impressed. The curves were so smooth.

The model must have also been super hot.

… Both of them.

But her smirk faded as she began to appreciate the art for what it was; for the adoration she could feel behind it, the love she could feel for this woman from the sculptor, even if just her body.

This time, she wasn’t sad, or overwhelmed by it. She liked it. This sculptor probably hadn’t even loved the model in that way. Maybe there hadn’t been a model at all. But the magic had worked, the lie had worked, and in a weird kind of way, Mara took comfort from everyone’s lies feeling like a universal truth.

That was how Dany found her. Looking pensively up at the sculpture, a small smirk playing on her lips and her hips swaying slightly as she listened to music from her old-fashioned wired earphones.

Dany hadn’t wanted to look at her.

Vegas had meant blissful ignorance; Vegas had meant peace of mind in the form of distraction; Vegas had included millions of excuses to not face it all, including Danyal’s phone being lost during a nasty paint-balling accident. And yes, he could have called anyway - through a million different channels. But he hadn’t wanted to.

He’d thought that the two of them not speaking would provide him with clarity. Less worrying about her feelings, less taking on responsibilities that weren’t his.

But as each day had gone on without hearing from Samara, without any further bids from her to contact him… Dany had found it… Harder. And all of a sudden, as he watched her look up at the sculpture - looking… Beautiful in the muted daylight of the gallery -, Dany realised it wasn’t Mara who was the problem. It wasn’t her emotions that were forcing him to feel guilty.

He was doing that all on his own.

He hadn’t wanted to see her when he’d walked in, late. He’d wanted her to be angry at him, to ignore him, because, Dany realised, deep down he knew he couldn’t ignore her on his own. But the moment his plan had worked… Dany had found himself at a loss, seeking her out in the crowd at every opportunity.

Maybe he was just starved of female attention, after Vegas. Maybe…

When he’d seen her in the gallery, quickly slipping out of sight of the windows and behind the tents, Dany had found his feet moving before he could stop himself. He wanted to talk to her. Be around her.

It’s what you’re used to. That’s all, Dany tried to tell himself - but even privately, it didn’t sound convincing.

Although it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, to Dany, it felt like longer, and, enjoying Mara’s obliviousness at her audience, he enjoyed the view. She really did look beautiful - and even to Dany, it was shocking, to hear the… Sincerity, in his own thoughts.

Mara was in a white, tapered jumpsuit that, aside from the off-shoulder detail and knot-type pattern on the front, was plain white and lacked sleeves. Her dark hair fell past her bare shoulders in loose waves and to a layman, her face looked almost natural - but Dany knew her eyebrows didn’t really look that dark, and that her lips - her mouth, a small part of Dany’s brain fell to the gutter again - weren’t such a dark, neutral pink. In silver strappy heels, showing black nails on display, she was practically the same height as Dany.

I want to kiss her, Dany thought suddenly - and he swallowed loudly, his eyes widening, as he heard it inside of his head. I want her to want me to kiss her.

That was when Mara’s eyes met his own.

For a second, Dany actually felt… Terrified, because, for a moment, it was like she’d read his mind.

But then it was gone, and she couldn’t have, and the quickly neutral expression only confirmed it - because Dany knew Mara too well by now to think that expression was truly neutral.

“We should be outside.” Dany suddenly blurted.

… What?

Mara wrinkled her eyebrows in confusion, before yanking one of the earphones away. Even from the distance between them, Dany could hear a distant rhythm.

“I’m sorry?”

“We should be outside.” Dany repeated, swallowing and deciding to stick to his convictions - even if they were completely random and stupid. Mara shook her head slightly - why?

Dany simply stared blankly at her.

“I’m looking at the art.” Mara finally said simply, rolling her eyes slightly as she turned away from him - and paused, before walking over to a small sculpture in the corner.

Dany walked forwards slightly to take a look, still a fair distance away; but his eyes immediately zoned in on how Mara seemed to stiffen as she reached it - a small, nondescript sculpture of what looked like a mother and her baby, the mother holding the baby close.

Dany watched, confused, as Mara’s eyes seemed to… Glisten, for a moment - but then she was turning angrily on her heel and about to walk straight past him, her eyes trained on the ground - and it was at that moment that, again, on impulse when impulse wasn’t something Dany really understood, he grabbed her wrist before she could.

“Let go of me.”

Dany frowned. “What’s wr-”

“I said let go.” Mara hissed - but Dany didn’t. He didn’t and, even though his grip wasn’t very tight - it was gentle and loose and easily broken - Mara glared up at him, unmoving, his fingertips grazing against the inside of her wrist.

What happened next was… Odd. For both of them.

It was… It was something neither one of them had felt before or, if they had, it was the first time they knew it. They were pulled towards one another and even though there was an entire gap of space between them, it felt as if they were only millimetres away - and although Mara’s wrist writhed, it was all an act, and, unable to help himself, Dany’s fingers only tightened; but his grip was still soft, as were his eyes, as the two stared at each other.

Something… Unnameable flickered across Danyal’s expression.

Mara tried to hide her fear.

Quickly, in the hopes it would be too quick for Danyal to notice, her eyes dropped to her wrist; and then to her surroundings, for something else to look at other than Dany’s dark eyes and thick, black eyelashes.

So her eyes followed the chequered floor to the wall; and then up the wall, to the nearest piece of artwork she could find… The couple. The couple twisted towards one another, their limbs entwined.

She felt like a statue. Like one of the pieces of art on display.

You’re that vulnerable, a horrified voice inside of her head told her. She thought of the naked busts behind her, too, the ones she’d admired. You made yourself that vulnerable with one phone call and it’s all your own fault.

How could she blame her parents for not wanting her? For not wanting to even give her a chance? Every time she thought she had a situation under control… She screwed up.

Mara began to feel that familiar tingle in the tip of her nose, felt the slow build of pressure behind her eyelids. No. She would not cry in front of him. She would not give him the satisfaction of appearing… Weak. Desperate for attention, like every other girl who threw themselves at him. That’s probably what he thought. That the phone call had been some lame attempt to - to -…

Because he didn’t see them as friends. Dany had made that abundantly clear before leaving for Vegas. She was just… A means to an end, a cog in his grand machine to own the entire world and everything in it, to put everything in his perfect little bubble of life - a perfect bubble Mara didn’t belong in because she wasn’t perfect, she was some sort of defect in that little world, broken and messy and wrong whereas Divvy Kapoor got a pass because she’d been the first inside his pants.

… And just as Mara’s face began to redden slightly from anger, mixed in with other feelings that were too tangled for her to try and understand, Dany swallowed loudly.

Mara in heels meant that her mouth was… Closer, than usual.

I want her to want me to kiss her. That’s what he’d thought. Was that wrong? Was that just him being… Danyal Zafar, in the way everyone expected him to be? Dany didn’t know. He’d never had to before.

“We should be outside.” Mara finally murmured, after what felt like a lifetime - and as she gently pulled her wrist away, Dany opened his mouth to speak, only to find that he didn’t have the words.

He had no choice but to let her go.

Danyal almost cursed out loud as he felt that horrible knot in his stomach and chest again as he watched her go; and it stopped him from speaking, from forming coherent thoughts, even as he saw Mara hesitate by the doors… Before squaring her shoulders, and walking out without a second glance.

For a moment, Dany just stood there. Completely gormless, just… Standing there, not sure what to do or say or think.

He slowly turned, sighing to himself - before pausing, upon his eyes falling on a sculpture on the wall.

A couple, kissing amidst a crowd.

Dany rolled his eyes slightly - before following Mara back to the crowd.

. . .

The rest of the day passed Mara in a blur.

She just wanted it to be over. She wanted it all to be over - this stupid facade, the lies, the ones she told herself. That Dany was her friend. That somehow, they’d become close enough for him to really care about how she was.

At least, she kept trying to tell herself that. Over and over; as she sat in her brightly coloured finery, her makeup as suitably black as her mood; as she glumly placed her chin on her knees between forced, polite smiles at all of the guests who were important enough to be a part of the wedding, but not really important enough to gain an invite to the main event; as she and Danyal managed to play the perfect, in love couple from across the room without looking at each other at all.

*

The Ham Yard Hotel SoHo, London 2 Days to Go

Mara grit her teeth, using all of her strength to pull herself upwards towards her knees - and then again, as the beat of an old techno-pop song played obnoxiously loudly in her ears.

She kept going, not caring how she’d wince and grunt with each push. Sweat trickled from the base of her thick hair, down her neck and past her collar bone, into the valley in her sports bra. She was red and sweaty and out of breath; but still, she kept moving, even as her body ached.

Good. She wanted it to ache; to make her wince every time she moved by tomorrow. She wanted to be so sore that it was all she could think about - that the days after the wedding would no longer be related to this whole, stupid charade, but just be another random day that just so happened to mean her muscles would stop working… And she wouldn’t be around the Zafars any longer.

One of them in particular.

Scowling at her reflection, seen between her legs with each push-up, Mara scowled.

Today was her day off; no more couple-y bullshit, for at least another twelve hours… Because Danyal had a fancy dinner with his friends this evening - his Oxford friends, the oh-so-important and busy ones that hadn’t made it out to his stag. A Goodbye Dany dinner, Raj had called it.

Mara rolled her eyes, hissing, as she completed another push-up.

Technically, she too was having some sort of… Event. Honestly, it was becoming… Suffocating. Ari was being so nice and even if she’d explained why, it made Mara feel uncomfortable.

They’d done so much… Nice stuff. Cool stuff. Stuff Mara enjoyed. Baking classes at Cordon Bleu, movie nights at rooftop cinemas that came with gourmet meals, late-night exhibitions. Pixie had managed to get them backstage tickets to the Royal Ballet, the one type of dance Mara had always wished she could master but had never had the guts to try. It had been great. A secret tour of London at night, a retro-themed party atop a capsule on the London Eye, in homage to Mara’s love of all things vintage.

It was suffocating.

Whether Ari was grateful or not about Mara helping her brother, it was too much. Too much. In a few days, Mara was going to walk away from Ari and her entire family and, according to Dany, never to be seen or spoken to again. How was Mara meant to pay them back?

Of course, Ari’s argument was probably that it was all a gift. But Mara had never exactly been around giving people - and so it just felt like a debt, hanging over her head.

Mara was just shaking her head at the amount of money she probably owed the Zafars - the use of their jet, their trip to Monte Carlo, Ari’s lavish bridal party - when she paused, puzzled, to find a pair of expensive blue Nikes between her black workout ones.

Mara jerked her head back in surprise as, following the trainers - ones she recognised -, Ari yanked out her earphones.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Ari huffed - before, much to Mara’s confusion, she proceeded to hoist Mara up from the floor. Too stunned to do anything else, Mara automatically steeled her legs to take some off some of her weight.

“It’s not even six in the morning.” Mara muttered, glancing at the clock… And shaking her head again, as she registered Ari’s outfit. Sports leggings, a T-shirt sporting the inspired slogan of coffee not toffee and no makeup, her hair scraped back into a bun.

“Exactly! We still have time to get dressed and I brought you fresh clothes, in case you were in the pool.” Ari said happily, thrusting a pink duffel bag in Mara’s direction. Mara simply stared at her blankly. “Come on! At least you’re all warmed up, any longer and we’ll be late!”

“For what?” Mara demanded. “It’s not even six-”

“I heard you the first time, would you just please get changed and we’ll discuss it later?”

The two girls stared at each other.

“You’re so like your brother sometimes.” Mara sighed, rolling her eyes - and taking the bag.

“Thank you!” Ari told her cheerfully.

Turning away, Mara sighed.

“It wasn’t a compliment.” She muttered to herself.

. . .

An hour later, and Mara found herself at… A rave.

A very specific type of rave.

It was called a morning rave; consisting of clean, green breakfasts and a smoothie bar, wherein one would start their day with a yoga class and following dance party. It was insane. Mara had walked into a nondescript city building during the dim daylight of the morning… And found a room stuffed with bright colours, large balloons, too much confetti and pounding dance music.

It wasn’t fancy, or expensive, or a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But it was completely mad.

And that was exactly what Mara needed… Especially when the DJ announced it was a 2010’s music throwback.

“How did you know?” Mara tried to shout over the music, as the beat began to kick up.

Ari shook her head, motioning to her ear.

“How-” Mara shook her head, before pulling out her phone and tapping out the message - How did you know?, before showing Ari the screen.

Pixie snatched it before Ari could reply.

Because we’re not as stupid as Dany, her reply read.

Mara knew Pixie meant that in a million ways - and possibly Ari, too. But in that moment, she didn’t care. She allowed herself to not have to worry about what anyone thought, or what anyone was thinking - and that was when she realised that that was their little morning trip’s whole point.

*

Dany was just finishing his run, when he saw Raj exiting from the front door. He seemed to be watching something with grave concentration - a video, Dany could hear loud music even with the distance between them - and did not at all seem amused.

“You look happy.” Dany commented as a way of greeting. Raj grunted. “What’re you looking at?”

“You haven’t seen it?” Raj mumbled, not looking up. Dany shook his head - but realising Raj wasn’t looking, quickly explained.

“My phone’s meant to arrive this morning.”

The prospect of being without technology somehow managed to steal away Raj’s attention.

“You’ve been without it for this long?” He muttered, aghast. Dany shrugged - before Raj handed him his own phone. “Here.”

Dany’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at what he saw.

Pixie, Ari and Mara; the three of them only, Mara’s cousins nowhere in sight. Of course, that wasn’t necessarily the surprising part.

Pixie held the camera as they danced; Pixie in yoga pants and a jumper, Ari in leggings and a T-shirt and Mara in leggings and a white-tank top, one where Dany could still clearly make out her black sports bra underneath, even under the flashing, bright lights. Mara’s face was red, as was the others’ - and aside from neon markings dotted across their faces (light splashes on Ari’s face, bright lips on Pixie and neon stripes on Mara’s cheeks), they wore no makeup, and were red and slightly sweaty. They were dancing - the camera shook as Pixie’s hand did - and singing loudly. The music was so loud that Dany could see Raj’s phone vibrating slightly as it played.

There were three clips - the first of the three of them dancing goofily at the camera, laughing, as the song began to play; another as Pixie and Mara downed what looked like shot glasses, captioned ginger shots and Mara gagging as Pixie laughed, unfazed by the burn; and a third that, once over, Dany immediately replayed.

It was Ari and Mara; Ari dancing and singing with her eyes closed, looking somewhat melancholic, and Mara, raving hard - trying to follow the movements of her high ponytail made Dany slightly dizzy -, with what looked like a… Smoothie cup in her hand.

The music started slow, before picking up to a loud, angry beat.

Where were you? ‘Cause I can’t see, but I feel you watching me… Dilated, falling free, in a modern ecstasy…

Pixie appeared at the bottom of the screen, laughing and singing along as Ari and Mara began to yell the lyrics at each other - Mara almost angrily, Ari almost sadly, but both of them full of energy and screaming.

I’m over the show, at least now I know - it wasn’t love, it was a perfect illusion…

Dany snorted, snatching Raj’s phone - and immediately texting Mara’s phone, paying no mind to the conversation clearly shared between Raj and Mara above the typing section.

If I were more insecure a fiance, I’d be worried - D x. He hit send.

Dany continued to smirk slightly as Raj hit replay, frowning beside him - but it quickly disappeared as Dany noticed something at the end and, before Raj could open his mouth to comment, hit replay again.

“Yeah.” Raj muttered absently, as they both leant in, concentrating on the screen. “Exactly.”

Dany was about to ask what Raj was talking about - until his words stopped in his throat, as he realised Mara wasn’t wearing her engagement ring.

Up until that moment, Dany had been fine. Amused, even. Mara was having fun, he knew Ari was safe. Ginger shots were not the most dangerous thing the girls could’ve been drinking. Even seeing the two of them dance; Dany knew Mara would get more attention, simply because of that… Energy (and the form-fitting, yet somehow effortless effect of the tank top) that she had, and that didn’t matter because… Well, it hit him in that moment. It hadn’t mattered, because Mara would’ve been wearing her engagement ring.

At first, Dany quickly became annoyed. This video was available to anyone who knew the three of them on social media. It was reckless. Why would a happy bride-to-be go out two days before her wedding, without a wedding ring? Although a small part of Dany’s mind had immediately reasoned that there were a plethora of sensible reasons for Mara to not wear it to… Wherever she was (sweat, the dark, etc), he quickly ignored it. He didn’t like it.

… And then Dany realised why.

And then Dany realised why Mara would be so reckless - even if she’d thought he’d not see it, with his lack of phone - and, as if struck by lightning, remembered the voice message he’d tried so hard to forget in Vegas. Apparently, he’d been a bit too successful.

“I’ll catch you later.” Dany muttered, all but running into the house - and ignoring Raj’s protests behind him.

Meanwhile, in the middle of a song called Bad Romance - that Mara head-banged to with a particular enthusiasm - her phone buzzed in her pocket. Pausing to glance at the screen, Mara’s eyes rolled so far back into her head at the message, that for a moment, she almost saw her brain.

She turned off her phone after that - and returned to the song with particular gusto.

. . .

By the time the rave was over - and, for the rest of the city, when their days began - Mara’s phone was dead, from the stupid amount of evidence she’d taken of herself actually… Having fun.

It had probably been a good thing her phone had ran out of battery; she was likely to just stare forlornly at it, thinking of all she was going to lose in a few days. A family. Friends. People who understood it.

Except, that wasn’t strictly true. And whilst Mara didn’t blame Ari, or Pixie, or anyone else associated with or part of the Zafar clan, for the actions she’d chosen to take (… with the exception of maybe Danyal) she couldn’t help but feel… Cheated. Angry. Perhaps even a bit jealous; and those were all things Mara didn’t want to think.

Mara had been dreading it, hoping that, when the time came, she’d be able to wish it away; that inevitable moment, when she relaxed and stopped thinking for long enough… That all of a sudden, she was living in fast-forward.

*

The Sunken Gardens, Kensington Palace Kensington, London 1 Day to Go

It was happening before Mara even had time to blink.

She purposefully avoided her phone - even when it was fully charged and flashing at her, filled with messages and notifications and alerts about her upcoming nuptials. She didn’t even flick through the many files she’d sent of herself yesterday of her, Pixie and Ari having fun the day before. It was… Too much. All of it. And being constantly reminded of that wasn’t going to do her any good.

Mara was in a pensive mood as the day went on; a day where she was largely left to her own devices, as the Zafars and her own family - if she could even call it that - prepared for the evening ahead. The last event before the wedding - the mehndi, the proper one, the one for family and fun. Dany wouldn’t be there - and he would be the only one.

For that, Mara was supremely grateful. In (yet again) a super pathetic kind of way, it felt… Good. Final. Like a nice parting before everyone went to shit and either had to pretend to hate her, for the sake of Dany and Divvy, or actually hate her.

So by the time early evening rolled around, and the sun was warm and lazy in the sky, Mara felt… Okay.

And then she saw it.

The Sunken Gardens of Kensington Palace; a giant rectangle of greenery, filled with other rectangles of brightly coloured flowers, with a fountain in the middle… And giant, bright umbrellas and cushions by the fountain for shade, with petals in the pool. Fairy lights were already strung in all of the bushes, ready to be lit, as well as rainbow-coloured lanterns hanging above them - and at the head of the fountain, a small canopy with its orange curtains tied back by pink and orange bouquets; and a comfy set of armchairs, of which one was hers.

Mara couldn’t help how her eyes immediately swelled with tears. She didn’t have the incentive of ruining her eyeliner or whatever - she was bare-faced, in preparation for the stupid amount of oil and weird creams about to be smeared on her face in the name of beauty (and the amusement of her guests).

“I’m going to miss this.” Mara mumbled, smiling slightly, and more so to herself than her aunt and Danyal’s mother beside her.

“What, the excitement of getting married?” Her aunt asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

Mara hid her smile as she saw Pixie and Ari share an agitated look.

“No.” She told her aunt coolly. “Being pleasantly surprised.” Because God knew, she’d had enough unpleasant ones lately.

That was the real moment. The proper one. The one where Mara realised just how much she was leaving behind - and, as she stepped towards the bright orange armchair calling her name, Mara really, sincerely hoped that Dany thought Divya Kapoor was worth it.

. . .

By the time the sun was setting, it were as if the rest of Mara’s week had been a bad dream. The lies. The isolation. The loneliness. The helplessness, of knowing so much of it was her fault, simply because of who she was, of how she existed.

The music was obscenely loud and Mara had been impressed to find a stage of sorts had been set up, at the top of the small set of stairs leading down into the garden from the main palace entrance; and it was like a dream, as Mara laughed and cheered and made stupid jokes as her friends and family made her smile.

Even the infamously moody Tara Zafar managed to have fun; and Mara yelled so loudly in approval at her final surprise, of a small performance by Ari, Raj and Pixie in front of everyone, that her throat felt hoarse.

She also waggled her eyebrows in a very obvious way, at how Ari and Raj shared a secret smile after Raj, between both girls and loosely holding their hands, took a bow… And knew there was nothing Ari could do but subtly glower, seeing as they were both in public.

Mara ate too much, too. She didn’t think about how her clothes were white, or how she was probably burning a bit too pink from the heat, or how greasy her hair was probably going to become with everyone wanting to chuck oil into it so it’d be shiny for tomorrow - or even why she was there. She just enjoyed it. The breeze, the lights of the palace glittering up in front of them… The smell of flowers and jasmine candles mixed with samosas and mango yoghurt milkshakes and henna drying on her hands.

All of her cousins danced; some goofily, some theatrically. Even Kabir joined in; he and Ari did a small comedy skit together, where Ari pretended to be their brother and Kabir was a very convincing Samara.

Divya had meant to be doing something, a proper performance from her and TJ’s new movie - but halfway through the night, she saw Raj and TJ talking urgently with each other, where they thought they were out of sight. Even that didn’t bother her. If anything, she was more than happy to cheer her old friend on his own.

Mara loved every moment; but each one was gone too soon, until the sky was dark above them and the doors to the palace’s main hall were open, ready for everyone to move.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Mara glanced up and smiled, as she saw Kabir grinning down at her.

“I am.” She promised - before motioning with her still-wet hands for Kabir to come over. “Help me up. I just want to clear my head for a few minutes before everyone goes for my hair again.”

Kabir cackled to himself, helping Mara to stand by the elbows so as to not smudge her henna.

“You sure you won’t be long?” Kabir asked, beginning to move goofily to the loud, Punjabi party music playing from inside.

Swaying in time with him, making them both grin, Mara nodded. Kabir snorted.

“You look like a puppet.” He muttered, motioning to how Mara had to keep her hands straight, so as to avoid smudging.

Mara raised an eyebrow. “That’s because I am one.” She pointed out dryly - and although it didn’t bother her to say it, not in the slightest, Kabir frowned.

She didn’t understand why. It had just been a joke - a funny one, she’d thought - but just as she opened her mouth to somehow try and take it back, Kabir spoke again.

“Can’t you guys just get married?” Kabir pouted - and Mara felt her chest freeze, her throat closing off before she could breathe. “You know, just - ignore the fact you’d be married to him. We’d hang out all of the time!”

It hit her like a fucking double decker bus. Literally. Every bone in her body ached and her eyes filled up with too many tears for her to blink away, out of nowhere - because this person, this one person actually wanted her to stay. Wanted to be around her, for everything she already was. This… Boy. When nobody else did.

And it felt so good to just be wanted and cared for for once - but it was such a new feeling, that all of the horrible thoughts and doubts that had been plaguing her, the ones she’d managed to forget, suddenly felt like they were crushing her and Mara felt her knees physically begin to wobble. Because she just wanted to drop to the floor and cry.

One person. One person, of all of the people in her life, of the stupid, long list of contacts in her phone and the people who posted fire emojis under her selfies; out of all of those people, there was one person, one kid, who actually gave a shit.

And even that was probably wrong! He was Danyal’s brother. He was probably just being charming and a bit sentimental. But Mara allowed herself to fall for it, because - well, who else did she have to help her kid herself?

Kabir’s face dropped - and quickly became horrified - as he watched Mara wipe away a tear with her forearm.

“I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“You didn’t, you idiot!” Mara admonished, shaking her head - and beaming at him, this little idiot, who was now staring at her as if she’d just landed off’ve a flying saucer. “Listen. Forget your idiot brother - whatever happens, you call me, okay?”

It had meant to come out lighthearted.

It didn’t.

It made Mara smile through the tears, though - to see as Kabir nodded seriously.

“You’re not going to start crying hysterically or anything if I leave you out here, right?” He asked dubiously, making Mara laugh again as she sniffled. “Because I don’t feel so good about leaving you here now-”

“If you don’t live,” Mara said sweetly. “I’m going to tell everyone you made me cry. Leave me in peace.”

Kabir sighed, rolling his eyes - but Mara laughed slightly as he smiled, and nodded once, before heading back inside. A boy. A literal kid understood her sense of humour more than… Anyone in her life currently did.

With a gusty sigh, Mara squatted, until comfortably low enough to drop her butt to the floor. Pulling her knees to her chest, Mara let the tips of her shoes hover over the water, her chin tucked into her knees and her arms resting out by her sides.

She watched the petals floating in the dim water, nodding her head slightly to the song playing from inside. A duet, a party song and, of course - a love song.

It was an old song, a very old song, and Mara shook her head to herself at the cheesy lyrics - the guy was telling the girl of his affections to stare deeply into his eyes -, but nonetheless, she couldn’t help but sing along as she replied - do something to make me yours.

Mara’s smile faded again as the song continued cheerily, so mismatched to the pensive, troubled expression of her reflection.

She shuddered slightly to herself, though not quite from the cold, as the breeze wafted by.

Kabir had broken the spell. It wasn’t his fault. He’d just been… Being honest. It was not his fault that Mara was such a steaming mess.

Mara blinked slowly. Such a steaming, horrible, messy mess.

The song continued behind her and Mara just… Sat there, smelling the jasmine. She wanted to go back inside, she did. She didn’t want the evening to end.

But whether that was because she was just having fun, or because she just didn’t want to face tomorrow… She didn’t know. And even though she was enjoying the silence, even though it was refreshing to just sit uninterrupted and think without having to fake a million expressions, she didn’t want to think about what she was.

She just felt so… Unsettled! And she didn’t understand. This was what she wanted. And Danyal definitely wanted it - so why was she sitting here, feeling bad? Feeling… Lost? It was the same plan it had always been. Beneficial to them both, so why, why now, was she doubting all of it? Yeah, it seemed more stupid than it had before, but nothing had changed. How could anything have changed…?

Because now, if she was being serious, if she was being honest - and sitting there, amongst the flowers and the trees and the colourful lights, it felt like the perfect place to be -  her heart didn’t skip into a million beats whenever Danyal walked into the room. Not ever. Not once.

But she felt… Something.

Mara exhaled slowly, shaking her head - and closing her eyes.

Monte Carlo, when she’d joined the Zafars on their annual trip. It had been perfect timing to introduce her to everyone in a nondescript, but still entirely… There, kind of way. But then there had been some fancy event, a dinner, and at the last minute, Mara and Dany had managed to lose each other before their big entrance.

Of course, it wasn’t meant to be a big entrance; but it involved a staircase, a fancy staircase leading to a room full of fancy people, a staircase Mara had felt stupid and self-conscious to be walking down on her own. But she hadn’t seen him anywhere and she couldn’t just… Loiter by herself, so she’d walked down the stupid damned staircase.

It had been horrifying. Like a fairytale gone wrong, because even though she’d looked like a princess - in a flowing, light blue gown that sparkled under the light, with shimmering sleeves that joined between her fingers and thumbs and her hair tied into a neat bun -, she’d felt like she was walking into a horror movie, cluelessly walking towards her slaughter, like all of the girls Mara yelled at whilst watching them.

But she’d had to do it. So Mara had kept her head down, her hand sliding down the bannister - until she’d seen Dany waiting for her at the bottom; and when her hand reached the end of the bannister, it effortlessly slipped into his, outstretched and waiting for her.

She’d felt such a rush of… Warmth. She’d thought it was relief. And he’d looked good, too, so effortlessly dapper - Mara could still remember it, still remembering how the Hell he was pulling it off - jeans, a casual polo shirt, a blazer and a silk scarf hanging loosely from his neck, all in varying shades of grey, no less -, so she’d thought it was smugness, too. At being the one to be standing next to him.

She knew better now.

She’d kept feeling it. When, after losing him in the crowd to other guests, he’d appeared behind her - even though she’d been fine, enjoying herself, actually -, his hand on the small of her back and his shoulder brushing the back of hers as he murmured updates into her ear. How he’d stayed with her for most of the night, his breath hot and minty on the back of her neck, his hand loosely cupping the curve of her waist.

Except - and Mara’s eyes flashed open - she couldn’t trust that feeling. How could she?! She’d been along for so long. She’d been looking for validation for so long - her eyes misted over slightly as she stared grimly at her reflection -, that just… Having someone around, having someone even faking being interested in her for a crowd… And it had felt good. To be touched. Not in a sexual way, to just be touched, and touched gently, like she was soft and gentle, like she could afford to be, like life hadn’t made her the way she was and ruined all of that stuff for her before she’d ever had a chance.

Companionship and trust and gratitude were not feelings Samara could trust. She’d had them all a million times before, with the same few people who kept screwing her over. Christ on a stick, her own mother still didn’t want her! And her father never had! Was she honestly that stupid, that insecure and out of her fucking mind, that she was going to let that ruin everything? Have her desperately begging for attention from random guys, stupid and annoying guys like Danyal Zafar, entitled guys because her self-esteem was so below sea level?

Mara turned away from her reflection, shaking her head again. No. No, she wasn’t. She had the rest of her life on a platter in front of her, her freedom, and she was sitting her, doubting that? No. No. She still wanted it. No, in fact, now, she needed it. More than ever.

Everything just felt wrong.

“Samara.”

Mara groaned quietly.

“Wonderful.” She muttered to herself, tossing her hair out of her face and squeezing her eyes shut. “Now you’re hearing his fucking voice everywhere, you lo-”

The words fell apart in her mouth as, opening her eyes again, Mara saw Danyal in the water - and when she whipped around to check she wasn’t losing her mind (but hoping she was), she couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath she took when she realised he was actually standing there.

“What-” Really? Now? Underneath the pretty lights and with the breeze wafting through his fluffy, un-styled hair and with him looking all tense and worried? No. No! She didn’t want to do this now, she didn’t have the energy, or the inclination, to fight him now. As if a giant camera crew were going to hop out of one of the bushes and tell her it was all a big joke, Mara glanced wildly around. “What’re you even doing here, you’re not supposed to be here tonight-”

“Raj helped me sneak in.” Dany said impatiently. “I heard your message.”

Even though Mara knew exactly what he was talking about… She shrugged.

“If you got the message I wanted to be ignored, I don’t understand why we’re talking to each other right now.” Mara said tiredly, unaware that it made sense; she didn’t know Danyal had tried calling her what felt like a million times, how he’d text and messaged too. She just knew of the message he’d sent after seeing the video of her and the girls at the Daybreaker rave. “Everyone is inside, including your parents-”

“I’m so sorry about your father.”

Her words jammed in her throat - but Mara swallowed them back. No. She was fine. She was fine.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Mara shrugged, staring at the reflection of the bottom of her shoes in the water. Not him, standing over her behind her. Not even her own face. No, thank you. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not my fault they’re assholes, but it’s my fault I wasn’t there-”

“No.” Mara said sharply, shaking her head slowly. “No, no, you - don’t do that. You don’t owe me anything. You made it clear we weren’t to speak and I called you and I shouldn’t have-”

“Mara.” Dany sighed helplessly - and, sneaking a peek at his reflection, Mara fought the lump in her throat as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked… Good. Handsome. He wore blue jeans, a white T-shirt and a velvet, mustard blazer - and even though she couldn’t see his face and his hair was sticking up in several places, she knew he looked good. Surprisingly, mustard suited him. “Please don’t do that-”

His voice. He sounded so… Sincere.

Grow a pair.

“I mean it, Dany.” She told him - and mustering up every ounce of strength she had (which… really wasn’t much at this point), she looked up at him seriously. “I’m not being passive aggressive or anything. You told me we weren’t to talk to each other. You had a point, a valid point-” Mara faltered slightly as Dany shook his head, looking vaguely disgusted - before dropping to the floor, cross-legged, in front of her. Immediately, she began to shrink away. “It’s not your job to look after me. Don’t… Beat yourself up about it, I didn’t need you, I just-”

“Wanted me?” Dany finished, his voice dangerously… No. Mara felt sick. She couldn’t even think it. No.

Hopeful?

It was paranoia. Plain and simple. For a moment, Mara thought he’d meant… Something else, something deeper. That’s why she looked at him with such wide eyes, why she felt like a deer in headlights - but it was that, not the poor choice behind Dany’s words, that made the air between them seem heavier.

Because she saw it. She saw recognition first, then shock, then disbelief, cross over Dany’s face as he realised what she’d thought he was asking - and Mara had to look away, because what she’d just seen had been in one micro-expression, in one twitch of his eyebrow and that…

That wasn’t normal.

It was. But it wasn’t supposed to be. They were meant to know each other well, be able to read each other, but it was too much now. So much so, that Mara was worried it was never going to go away.

Mara held her breath as neither one of them moved. She didn’t mean to. She just… Couldn’t help it.

“Your parents are assholes.” Dany said suddenly - and he sounded angry now, and for some reason, that scared her. He scooted closer and Mara almost flinched away from him as she leant away slightly, feeling her heart beat sickeningly hard inside of her throat. Dany’s eyes searched her face and she felt… Exposed, because he wasn’t just looking at her, and his eyes weren’t just angry, they were more and she didn’t want to know why. “You deserve better.”

“I-” Mara tried to joke, to say she thought so too, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t, because Dany’s jaw was clenching as if he were… Emotional and maybe she was just overthinking things? Right? Maybe she was just being a total… Moron, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Samara, I-”

“Don’t, Danyal, please don’t, I can’t.” She blurted - before gasping sharply, as she realised what she’d just done.

Dany’s eyes widened slightly - and now they both knew, they knew that she’d just broken their vow of silence and she’d just acknowledged that he’d been about to.

Mara didn’t know how long they stared at each other like that for. She didn’t want to. It couldn’t get any worse.

… And then it did, because understanding flashed through Dany’s eyes and he carried on talking.

“It’s not your fault.” He said, like he’d read her mind, and Mara wanted to roll her eyes because, holy shit, whatever conversation with herself she’d been trying to ease herself into, Dany was now forcing her into a whole damn… Bog of it. “Samara,” Mara squeezed her eyes shut and moved her face in the other direction, at how Dany grabbed her forearm. “It isn’t your fault that they’re the most useless-”

“No, it’s not their fault they made me me, it’s mine!” She burst - and it was all tumbling out now, and there were tears in her eyes and holy fucking shit, this was exactly what she hadn’t wanted. “I am not enough for them, there is something wrong with me-”

“That’s not true-”

“Maybe, but Dany, that’s how it feels.” Her eyes welled again - and Dany could only watch helplessly as tears began to fall down her face. Her voice had cracked on that last word and somehow, as stupid as it was, that suddenly felt like the dumbest thing in the world. But that was what she was crying about. At least, she was telling herself that. She wasn’t wasting more tears on… Anyone, ever again. And unfortunately, every person in the world had the capability to try and force it out of her.

Frustrated with herself, Mara brushed her tears away. God, could she be any more ridiculous?

“What can I do?” Dany demanded. For some reason it made Mara laugh - though just the once. “Samara-”

“Honestly?” She interrupted - and Dany nodded. Mara shook her head again, trying to convince herself not to say it. “I could use a hug right now.”

For a minute, she actually thought he wouldn’t do it - but then the next thing she knew, he’d moved, and before she’d even turned around to see what he was doing properly, she felt Dany lifting her arms gently out of the way… And his back was pressed against hers.

Just like that, she was warm. Just like that, without giving it another thought, Mara was sighing in relief and leaning back against his chest, letting his arms wrap around her waist and hold her pressed tightly against him, her arms, still damp from the henna, resting over his jeans.

“People change.” Dany told her - and Mara closed her eyes and rest her head against his shoulder, enjoying the smell of the jasmine and the water and his aftershave all mixed into one. “Your parents-”

“That… Woman has always had a plan to keep me out of sight, out of mind.” Mara muttered, shaking her head. She looked out to the water.

Dany’s arms held her closer.

“Plans change.” He murmured - and although a statement, it came out like a silent question.

She wanted to look behind her. She knew his face was just over her shoulder, and she wanted to see him, to prove to herself later that she hadn’t imagined the hidden meaning.

But she didn’t.

“Not all of them.” Mara said quietly… Before sighing and staring straight ahead. She didn’t want to see what they looked like, like this. “Thank you, though, if I don’t get to-” Mara let out a gusty breath. If I don’t get to say it tomorrow. “I mean, you know, for-”

Words. Words, use your words!

“For?” She hated it. How calm he sounded. How collected.

It was even more annoying when it felt like he’d be able to feel her heart beating against his chest.

Mara pressed her lips together. She - if words weren’t coming out, if her mind was blank, then it was a good thing. Sometimes words were just more trouble.

… In Mara’s silence, Dany understood.

“It’s not you.” He told her. Mara fought back a fresh wave of tears - but, in a weird way, his words helped, too. She felt… Stronger for it. “It’s not… You’re not… Not wanted.”

So much stronger.

Taking a deep breath, Mara leant her head back on his shoulder - and held her breath as tightly as she could, when she saw Dany up close.

The stubble growing on his jaw. The snugness of his teeth - crooked, but in a cute way, in a young sort of way, and his gorgeous brown eyes and his long eyelashes and his mouth, parting slightly, and those eyes were on her lips too and…

Mara moved forwards.

Away from him.

She let out her breath - before balancing herself, somehow without her arms, so that she was squatting in her loose-fitting white tunic and matching trousers again. She pivoted slightly, facing him.

She looked at that stupid face.

“Bye, Dany.” She said - and it sounded wrong, for her voice to no longer be hushed. It sounded loud - and just like that, she was back in the real world. The loud music continued to play in the background, she could hear everyone laughing and singing and the wind whistling through the flowers.

Before she could stop herself, Mara leant forwards - and kissed him on the forehead.

She didn’t check his expression. She didn’t look back. She kept walking.

You’re not not wanted.

She repeated those words in her head with each step. And it… Made it easier, actually. To keep walking. To push down the sad stuff and remember that the whole evening was acting like some sort of goodbye.

She didn’t see how Dany opened and closed his mouth, how he looked for words to say in a moment that was gone. To ask why he couldn’t say what it felt like they’d already said.

That he was in love with her. That he’d known it the moment he’d heard her message, heard the pain in her voice and wanted nothing more than to be with her. That he’d known when he’d moved, he’d been moving, to kiss her just now because he couldn’t stop himself anymore, because even though they’d kissed before, he wanted this time to be different.

But he knew why he couldn’t. He knew who was the reason he couldn’t.

Watching as Mara went inside without another glance, her arms out in front of her like some sort of offering, Dany felt his mind whirl at a million miles per minute.

… But that had just happened. Right? That had been a clue, they hadn’t said it, but by not saying it, didn’t that mean -?

Dany slowly climbed to his feet, frowning at the floor.

Didn’t that mean she felt it too?

[morethanjustmediocremusings]

The Wealthy’s Concept of Wellness

Taylor Abouzeid

Dr. Seth Donal Hannah

Sociology 110-01

29 May 2018

Among my peers, the accepted definition of health more accurately reflects a modern concept of wellness. This almost glamorized ideal expressed by my companions, remains in line with our socioeconomic and racial statuses. Hailing from wealthy, white-majority neighborhoods, health was never an eminent concern, but rather a concept of personal promotion and an act of self-love. When not faced with threatening illnesses, nor any other immediate health concerns, the wealthy often busy themselves with superficially “achieving wellness.” The collision of social media and a blind enthusiasm for all things “well” created an exclusive environment flooded with different conceptions of wellness.

Among the five Cal Poly students that I interviewed, demographic variation was purposefully kept to a minimum. For this project I desired to examine how a specific sub-group, that my peers and I personally identify with, views and interacts with the concept of health and wellness. Everyone that I interviewed came from wealthy backgrounds, primarily white neighborhoods, and familial values structured around success and education. I interviewed two male-identifying students, and three female-identifying students from my community. By intentionally selecting demographically similar students, I was able to see extreme similarities in beliefs of health and value placed on wellness among the selective circle I identify so strongly with.

The origins of wellness are firmly rooted in the absence of illness. When one had no aliments, he/she was considered “well.” These ideals continued until 1948, when the World Health Organization published that health was considered to be much more than the absence of illness. Today’s perceptions of wellness have transformed into a largely commercialized market targeted at those who are fortunate enough to ignore the common threat of an unafforded illness. Many current trends permeating the elite network that my peers and I occupy, come with a heavy price tag. From green juices, chakra alignments, and expensive therapists, achieving the desired level of health, or “wellness,” requires lavish rituals that have become exclusive to those with the funds to support them.

This elusive relationship that the well-off seem to be searching for along the path of wellness is a connection to the physical, emotional, and spiritual world. A medicalization of wellness can be traced back to the eighties, but now “treatment” to the upper echelon means supplements, juice cleanses, or even crystal baths. However, traditionally one does not treat wellness. A movement in the seventies based on personal progress has now become a profitable industry targeted at the upper class. Without the presence of actual illnesses my peers and I are able to immerse ourselves in the culture surrounding all things deemed “well.”

Based in commercialism, wellness today exploits the overarching desire to be well. Seemingly inescapable, wellness has seeped its way into everyday life. Wellness shots are advertised on every corner, Starbucks offers a variety of pressed juices, essential oils are sold like candy, and the true flavor of wellness has become lost in the advertisements. A popularized dietary approach full of vitamins and supplements may help mitigate some symptoms of perceived illness, but my peers, who are healthy in regards to symptoms (or lack there-of), habitually take overpriced concoctions of vitamins and dietary protein supplements. The routine of consuming upscale supplements has created a fashionable, wellness community where my peers publicly reside. But, similar to Goffman’s “back-stage,” when out of the public eye our actions drastically change.

Shrouded by the protective cover of night, all previous conventions that governed daytime actions, melt away to reveal a rowdy clique of pretentious college students on the prowl for a good time. Inspired by East Coast characteristics of drug-addicted, social elitists, and liquor-filled Hollywood glamour, the late-night activities of my interviewees directly violate any concept of health. Superficially focused on personal wellness the elite subculture existing at Cal Poly disregards health for the sake of aesthetic-based party habits. This particular circadian shift has been prevalent since high school for many of my peers. Sneaking out of our gated communities to relish in rebellion became normalized and now, when confined to campus, my peers and I have an itch for disobedience. By disregarding conventions of health, my peers and I are able to gain the same juvenile “high” from our younger years while maintaining our daytime façade of wellness.

Health, said to come from within, is often associated with leafy greens and an organic rainbow of fruits and vegetables. But in today’s world, is there a point when eating healthy becomes unhealthy? Dr. Danyale McCurdy-McKinnon believes so; “something recently added to the nomenclature of eating disorders is orthorexia.” It is an obsession with the quality of food whereas anorexia is more with the quantity of food. The idea of “clean eating” created a trigger, as the opposite of clean is dirty, something people want to avoid. These charged words, derived from an infatuation of health, can potentially evolve into obsessional eating which is the direct antithesis of pure wellness. The mere idea of consuming fried foods nauseates my peer group. Surviving on expensive lattes, and carefully constructed salads, a fear of “dirty” foods avidly exists at the forefront of my interviewees’ minds. Ironically focused on modern ideals of health, malnutrition and other consequences from this particular pattern of eating, now have the potential to develop into the recently recognized eating disorder of orthorexia.

           Among my peers that I interviewed, astoundingly all of them relate at least part of their personal worth to social media following. Although not directly stated, questions along the lines of confidence and Instagram likes or Snapchat views reflect the detrimental correlation that my generation has between social acceptance and self-love. Today, with photographs taken in an MRI scanner, doctors are able to generate a perfect and personalized rendering of the brain. Using this kind of technology developed at UCLA, researchers are able to view the physical, real-time effects of all kinds of phenomena on the brain. From getting high off Instagram likes to easing stress with meditation, doctors see mental receptors ignite. Mental health is no longer a singular battle, in the universe of social media, numerical definitions of happiness create a toxically dependent relationship between users.

           Aristotle defines Eudaimonia as a type of preserved happiness. It is easiest to describe in contrast to Hedonia, which is the immediate gratification that comes from satisfying one of the basic urges; feeding, fighting, fleeing, and reproductive behavior. There is a system in the brain that matches up what is expected to happen with what really happens. The mental systems then secrete dopamine into the ventral regions of the brain where the “reward centers” are located. As soon as this excessive stimulation goes away, the mind is left in a state of withdrawal. Social media hijacks these systems, and addicts new generations to the feeling, falsifying one’s presence as if connected to another person. During these moments of fabricated attachment, one’s wellness begins to disintegrate as tangible relationships disappear.

Regardless of objective science, simply believing in something and acting accordingly could have a profound effect. Due to the fact that we live in such a negative society, my peers are turning to alternative means in an attempt to achieve personal wellness. Society often doubts the impressed importance of crystals, yet many have a huge diamond rings on their fingers that they impose so much worth upon and use as a status signifier. According to one of my interviewees, every crystal is a conductor of a precise frequency, but what comes out of that frequency is in the control of the beholder. We decorate our dorms in expensive rose quartz coasters, amethyst crystals, and Himalayan salt lamps from popularized centers for wellness, small boutiques and the more commercialized Urban Outfitters. This selective aesthetic surrounding perceived wellness, is a part of the elite clique fortunate enough to preoccupy their minds, and their wallets, with the necessary habits of the subculture. Despite having significantly less science behind them, crystals, and the possible placebo effect associated with them, come with little consequences, and in a world obsessed with wellness what could possibly be the harm of accessorizing with some rose quartz here and there.

A new-age wave of apps is propelling wellness to the forefront of people’s screens and encouraging mindfulness in everyday life. Former monk, Andy Puddicombe, co-founded Headspace with his partner Rich Pierson in 2010 in an effort to make the practice of meditation more accessible to the world. Meditation among my peers is as common as drinking metabolism-boosting, lemon water (extremely common). The addictive traits behind apps such as Instagram and Twitter seem to melt away in Headspace’s simple ten-minute introduction practice. The app has now been downloaded by over seven million people worldwide. Andy’s movement has started to restore the toxicity of yesterday’s understanding of wellness and revive the original connotation of the word. Now, an important aspect of our lives, my peers and I meditate daily and often find ourselves bragging about our tranquil mental states. The peace that comes with introspection has now become a signifier of the selective sub-group we identify with.

Wellness is not necessarily a selfish thing it’s about a sense of community and connecting with others. We are fortunate enough to not have to focus our time on illness, so instead my peers and I spend our days in the glamorized, and exclusive universe of those who are “well.” There seems to be one commonality through the exploration of different approaches to wellness, and that is the unrealistic message of living in the present and being mindful. The symbols associated with this subculture falsify statuses of wellness, and simultaneously unify the private community. This exclusivity surrounding the lifestyle may be caused by the necessary funds and selective locations that house this fortunate community. The journey of wellness is based in healthy practices but has also become a distinct aspect of the exclusionary group associated with upper class teens, hailing from fortunate, white-majority neighborhoods.