#is that one year an empty store in the town centre where I used to live got rented out and became a temporary discount store

[chaosintheavenue]

We should set up a Spirit Halloween in Buckingham Palace in Llundain. Everyone inside disappears until November 1st and no one tell them why they disappeared

If I had Photoshop abilities, I'd add in the Spirit Halloween banners in place of the union jacks.

[human-still-developing]

Gold and Brown: A Short Story

After so long of not posting my writing on here, I'm super excited to share this short story I've been working on for the last 3 months!!! It's a long one but settle back with a cuppa and watch the story slowly unfold!

Thank you so so so much to my beloved beta readers @oneofthewednesdays and @itsliterallysophie who gave such insightful comments and helped shape this story into what it is now <3 Also a huge thank you to my cheerleading team @peakogreen and @peggy-sue-reads-a-book who read this story first and hyped me to keep going!

Anyways that's all from me here, text only version beneath the cut <3

“If there’s one thing I promise you,” I remember my best friend telling me all those years ago, “It’s that someday we’ll make it out of here”

It is an early spring day, one of the last times that we can sit in the back of Kate’s ute to watch the sunset before the heat kicks in. Each day the blue of the sky seems more polluted by backburning smoke which striates across the horizon like ashes streaming in a running river. Even at night, when the colours are leached out of the world, its heaviness remains. 

Roiling. Waiting. 

It is hard to liken this field to the one we knew before the fires, when the endless rolling hills of green were marred only by the infrequent bursts of buttery-yellow fireweed. Before, when Kate and I would catch butterflies in our chubby palms while my brother Jake and his friends worked at the mines. Before, when we would climb out to the top of the hill and watch the endless field fold into its own corners at the horizon, golden in the dying sunlight. Before, when the wind would skid and yelp, tear through my dark hair like it once did through my mother’s and her mother before that and all the mothers who have ever existed in this landlocked, forgotten town. 

Now, there is just silence. 

I kick my legs against the red-rimmed tires as Kate pulls herself up to sit beside me. The thin, corded muscles of her arms ripple, the scrape of her sneakers against the mutilated road the only sound for miles. She used to be all soft curves and smooth skin but the relentless sun has brought out the hard corners and sharp edges of us all. We are at that delicate point in our lives where the balance of childhood and adulthood has just begun to tip irreversibly towards the latter. The edge of the cliff just before the fall to the bottom. 

“Jake’s back from Vietnam.” 

She raises her golden head and the contours of her face are cut out of the darkness by early starlight. When we were younger we used to play soldiers in these fields, pressing our rough summer tunics against the undergrowth as we raised our cardboard bayonets at each other. And one summer, Jake taught us how to shoot for real as well. He would ring steel every so often, cast bullets disappearing in the long grass as the sound rang on for miles and miles into the emptiness. 

It is the face that Kate made then that she makes now. Eyes narrowed but unfocused. Lips twisted and slightly pursed. 

“For good?” she whispers. 

I hesitate. 

Even when we were both children, Kate was always a better shot than me. Jake’s stolen revolver would dip and waver in my frightened grasp but in Kate’s confident grip it seemed like an extension of her. Steady hands, Jake would grudgingly remark as the swoop of her bullet sliced through the heavy, heated sky. Even now, the steadiness and grace in her movements is remarkable as she sits unflinching in the smoke. 

We have always lived in this tiny town a day’s drive away from Broken Hill. Drive ten minutes in any direction from the city centre and our little patch of houses and stores disappears into the barren red-soil that threatens to consume us. Our land is too sandy for agriculture of any type and while the newspapers will coin us a mining town, most families make their meagre dollars through their husbands and sons fighting in the war. 

My brother enlisted with his friends on his twentieth birthday. I remember ironing out his new uniform as the smell of Brasso wafted and hovered in the thick air. Back then he would only be drafted out to other cities for training, Bathurst and once all the way to Sydney, but that must have been a long time ago because for the last few years he had not written a single letter home. No sound from him until he showed up last week, battered by the sun in the five minute walk from the road to our front door. 

“I think he’s here to stay,” I begin but Kate scoffs and climbs over to her rucksack. 

She pulls out her heavy-duty torch, banging it against the side of the ute. It clicks and slowly shudders into a harsh white light that floods the field. Once, before the fires, Kate had found a brown coiled underneath her front tire and it has left her with a lifelong fear of snakes. Jake used to tease her about it and once after he hid a rubber snake in her school bag, she almost blacked out his eye. Even now, after the droughts and fires have pushed the snakes into deep country, she surveys the land around her car with the brilliant light. 

She does not have to worry anymore. Nothing can survive in the ashened, twisted remains of the paddock. 

Long ago, before Jake was deployed to Afghanistan and Kate’s mother abandoned her for the city, we had devised a great escape plan that involved us driving to Mildura overnight and hitch-hiking to Adelaide. We had almost carried it through; Jake’s beaten-up SUV packed with freeze-dried fruit from the corner store and winter jackets that had gone stiff from disuse. No-one knows exactly what went wrong in the plan but we never even made it out to the highway. 

Kate claims that we didn’t have enough fuel to last us the five hours down south. Jake insists that the floods had put too many potholes in the road for us to drive down. The truth was that it was the first time that any of us had truly considered the idea of leaving and it frightened us. The idea of pulling out the bricks in the foundation that had held strong for so many years.

After we drove home, I stood there on that road that seemed to contain my entire existence and stared into the nothingness for a long, long time. 

The idea of leaving is something that Kate and I talk about quite often, even though we are both careful to never mention the time we almost did. Everytime we drive out to this same paddock. Kate insists that she is leaving tonight but is quick to reconsider when I bring up the logistics. Sometimes we will contemplate where in the world Jake might be. Sometimes we will sit in silence and try to stare far enough into the horizon to see the ocean. 

“We’re leaving tonight,” Kate says like clockwork, “I’ve got a full tank and enough cash to fill up on the way. If we leave now, we’ll hit town before daybreak.”

Over the last week, none of us have gotten much sleep. 

It doesn’t help that on good nights Jake wakes up screaming and on bad ones sits on the porch with his rifle aimed out to the road. He doesn’t say much during the day either and spends most of his time sitting outside in silence. Only since yesterday, when they started the backburning for fire season, has he come inside during the daylight hours. 

Mum thinks that a part of him is still on the battlefield in Afghanistan but once he spends enough time out here, he will go back to the way he was. 

“Our land is harsh but it heals,” she said last night over dinner, “That’s how we have survived for so long.” 

Kate hits my knee with the handle of her torch and I look up at her again.

“We’re leaving this time, Jane,” she puts her coat over her sunburnt shoulders and fumbles for her keys, “Or we’ll never end up going.”

“Just wait,” I turn away from her and accidently kick her back tire, “Just a minute.”

As she takes out her keys, a rare wind blows from the south. We turn away because if we do not our eyes will be pierced with bits of ash and dry grass that pepper the air like shrapnel. My exposed skin, galvanised from years of standing tall against the world, stings until the wind dies out into nothingness. 

After the wind, the night air has turned warm and acrid. The white smear of the milky way stretches across the star riddled sky in between smoke patches. When I was sixteen, Jake taught me how to find due south following the constellations in the sky. It seemed pointless in a world where my entire life circled around these handful of criss-crossed streets but watching the southern cross rise above the plains brings back a familiar comfort. 

Two years ago, I had cut through the roof in the yard to watch the stars shift above me. The rotten planks gave way easily to the dark blanket that had shrouded civilisations. Holding the old rifle Jake had left behind, I had pressed myself into the floor as if I were a figment of him.

Waiting.

I climb into the shotgun as Kate starts up the car again. It does not take long for the main road to appear, a dark expanse that sinks into the blackness of the country.

“Let’s drive out a bit,” she says to the emptiness. 

Kate and Jake learnt to dance over one summer break. It was the Pasa Doble (the ‘Strictly Ballroom’ scene playing on loop on the television behind them) as they drew closer together and further apart. Sweaty from the late summer sun, I watched them sweep across the timber floors in cyclic motions like the wind-up dancers in mom’s music box. For a moment, there had been an energy between them. Something that made Jake’s fingers tighten around her waist. 

A beaten truck drives past us and Kate flashes her blinkers at him. With no street lights this far out, every vehicle drives on full beam after sunset. A crash out here is almost certain to go unnoticed until the next morning, by which time most drivers are dead from blood loss. 

When Jake had returned, Kate had bought him flowers. Real red roses, the tips at the verge of wilting from their long journey out here. She had given them to him out in that same field, where the bullets we shot in childhood lay like dormant seeds in the untouched soil. 

He had been quiet then. 

It was the next morning when we had woken up to find the roses smashed against the front steps. In Jake’s eyes there had been a mute haunting. As if all of us had cornered him until he was standing with his back to the front gate and the endless country behind him. But still he said nothing, although I could see the anger and anguish and hatred shifting like storm clouds behind his eyes. 

“I’m going to take the highway,” Kate says, “Or I know you’re going to turn me back around again.”

Almost before she finishes her last jibe, I know she is sorry that she has pushed me too far. It is like when you attempt to rev up an old truck out of heat-cracked pothole, accelerating slowly and letting the engine groan and scream as it tips you forward to where hole meets sun-softened road knowing all too well the rough skid of the tire as you inevitably fall back to where you started. 

But like Jake, I say nothing. Kate’s fingers barely touch the steering wheel. 

“You know we could just leave this time,” she whispers with surprising gentleness, “And they’ll never know the difference until morning.”

On the highway, there is the eerie stillness of night. Signposts occasionally pepper the rear-view window, speed limits and once bright-coloured advertisements that have long gone grey. Was it this same road that we tried to escape down last? Where my broad-shouldered brother was at the wheel and Kate in my place and me in the back trying to make sense of it all? 

The night is warm and still and silent for the country has not changed at all. 

And then my mind is drawn with sick fascination to the differences between that time and this. The dregs of affection for my brother that remain seem to swell inside me as I fill out the hollow that Vietnam has left of him. The way he used to roll down the windows and laugh into the trees as if they were old friends he had almost forgotten. The sturdiness of his step when he found me shooting in the grassland long after he and Kate had shot the bullseyes clean out of the targets. His calloused hand on my shoulder contracting into a rough squeeze. Try again tomorrow. 

As if a door is jerked open, Jake from the present blends into him from the past. His clothes are still dusty from his hitch-hike through the country and his fingers are white from being pressed against the doorframe of my mother’s kitchen. He lifts the bayonet higher, my mother’s cowering figure blended into some ghost from his past but I am transfixed as if the events in front of my eyes are just reflections in a puddle of water that I am unable to touch. It is Kate, roughened and emotionless, who pins him to the floor in some gross reincarnation of their dance here so long ago. 

I think in some way I have begun to realise that I’m no longer standing on the cliff at the end of childhood but on the ravine on the other side. For, in some unreasonable part of my mind, I have always imagined Jake coming home to be the sunlight that brushes away the storm clouds from Kate’s face or the first yellowish rain after almost a year of drought or any kind of reason to stay back, to stay here, to stay at all. 

But even as I am thinking this, I know inherently that nothing has changed at all. That the drought will come again this year and the year after that and every year this deep in the country. That I will grow older and my parents will grow old until one day all of us will grow no more and the land will stay the same, not forgiving, not remembering. 

“Let’s go home.”

Kate hesitates. 

She is a person of action, shooting bullet after bullet into the dryness with the ringing of steel moulding into an endless sound that one sees rather than hears, the momentum turning her eyes dark for a moment with a viciousness that is not uncommon out here. Of hitting the accelerator until the engine threatens to give out and the smell of fuel fills the ute as if we are in the middle of a fire rather than a banged up getaway on these old broken roads. She is a person of movement, of moving forward rather than stepping sideways, of defying rather than powering through. 

She hesitates. 

It is only then that I realise that we are standing still. The night is full and glossy as the last striations of smoke are cleared away. In the middle of it all, Kate sits like a ghost, ashened with tears streaking down her face like the rain that continues to evade our parched lands. The dust has already begun to settle on her cheeks. 

I am almost sorry for stopping us when this is the furthest we have ever got from home. A part of me is still waiting for Kate to argue, to say something cruel she almost does not mean but wishes she did. But a larger part of me remembers her face that evening with Jake, that secret smile she tucked into his neck as they swayed back and forth to some old song on the radio. 

As we drive back from the empty, expansive road, the wind cuts in from the plains with a renewed anger. It tears at you, threatens to crush you against the scorched gravel as pieces of the land rip into and harden every soft and delicate part of you. Unless you turn away or close your eyes, it is impossible to keep going forward for the air is thick and dry and weighted and turns to dust in your lungs. You cannot look past it, into endless acres that have bowed and yielded to the temper of the land since eternity. 

You feel so much that you can hardly feel anything at all. 

Almost. 

For by holding your breath and squinting open your eyes, you can start to visualise. You will not have much but what you do have is now shrouded in the galaxies that have protected civilisations for millennia. As the wind dies, I turn to Kate who grips my fingers from when we were blown together. The land outside moves but for once we are not moving. Her calloused fingers have slotted into mine and now both our hands are white and indistinguishable from each other. The anger that I expected from her has mellowed into a brazen expression that I cannot understand. 

Perhaps, like my mother once told me, it is the healing of the land. The way that the same land that produces fires and floods and droughts also creates butterflies and sunsets. We lean close enough to each other that a soft breeze tangles our hair together in a swirl of gold and brown, light and darkness. I think it will be a long, long time before we drive out onto this road again but there is a stillness that pushes us forward towards home. I think I will try to find Jake, that maybe this is a world he may understand.

[niamhsnationalproject]

Week 4

Monday

Due to damage on the overhead line at Coventry, all trains were cancelled towards birmingham from Northampton. This meant i was unable to travel in to uni. As soon as i knew i wasn’t going to make it, i informed Lara and my group. Asking if they would keep me updated throughout the day and if they could call me on teams if there was any group discussion being made.

Once i was back at home, i read through the narrative PowerPoint on Moodle, and tried to brainstorm some ideas for a narrative/ theme for our installation. Just so that if the group were to call me or for the next time i was back at uni, i had something to contribute. Here are a few of my ideas:

- Landmarks (express lift tower, greyfriars bus station etc.)

- shoe factory

- Great Fire of Northampton (1675)

-Everest (Northamptonshire made the shoes of Everest summiters Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay)

-DNA/ double helix themed space

I also found a BBC article on how northampton proposes to save its dying town centre (from May 2019). Conservative councillor Mr Nunn was quoted in this article warning against quickly filling empty shops by selling off land and said does not want “a mediocre thing that does not actually achieve anything for the town.” This should suggest the local government would be in favour of a proposal such as ours as its aim is to bring the community together and to bring more footfall back to Northampton’s town centre. Hindsight is also interesting as a lot of the empty high street stores in northampton have been converted into casinos within the past year which would indicate that this aim was unsuccessful.

I also looked into what type of exhibitions were currently on display in Northampton’s museum and art gallery. They have a punk exhibition and their permanent shoe exhibit. Both of these could be good to go and see when the group come to visit the location. I then also remembered 78 Derngate is another artistic landmark in the town centre as it is Charles Renee mackintosh’s only house designed by him. I forwarded this to the group to see if it was of any interest to them.

Other than this, I didn’t really get to talk to my group about our ideas. They only offered to call when they were going to present their ideas on narrative to the group at the very end of the day and by this point I had to start getting my things together for dance as we were having a class competition in the evening and my dad had kindly agreed to drive me to Sutton Coldfield so I wouldn’t miss it.

There was no progress on what our next steps are to move forward within our project, only a message at 6pm from Lewis suggesting we reconsider having our project based in Birmingham. I found this slightly irritating as we had the whole day to discuss our ideas yet he chose this time of evening to message the group. I also think that changing our idea four weeks into the project would be detrimental to the quality of our work. Therefore I did not respond to the message as I would rather speak to the whole group in person and see what the whole group thinks instead of coming up with a response just from one persons message.

Tuesday

I spent most of this day converting my website to have a section for my portfolio. prior to this, I had tried to create a digital portfolio using a different website however all of the sites used to make a portfolio type of website required a subscription. there do seem to be limits with using big cartel as a portfolio. I seem to only be able to have my images displayed singularly in a top to bottom aspect, unless they are items being sold. this makes it a lengthy process to navigate through my work and its different categories.

Here are images of where I am currently with my CV, website/portfolio and instagram:

Wednesday

The morning began with our feedback from David. I presented to him my CV, website and instagram. He seemed to like what I had in terms of branding and contents. His feedback was mainly for my website. we discussed whether or not I should separate myself from my shop brand, marketing myself in two different manners. this clarity was great for myself to understand how I will market myself in the future. as we decided my art shop is more of a side hustle, rather than my main career goal, I should create a LinkedIn profile for myself, that mentions my shop as one of my projects. from this, I have decided to add "by Niamh Greene" to the description of Badass Cow across my instagram and website. this also confirmed that I should keep my portfolio on my website as it may bring me other commission type of work.

For my website, we also discussed having the categories of my work displayed on one page that would link to collections of my work that could then be enlarged with a description of each piece of work. I will have to do some more playing around with this possibility as I'm not sure big cartel would allow this internally. David also mentioned having more text on my website. I feel I could include this as a welcome to my site/shop, as well as each section/page of the site.

I will also add more highlights to my instagram so that people can quickly navigate through my different categories of work, and potentially upload carousels of different projects that are featured in my portfolio.

I found this day to be the most difficult with my group. The way we originally decided between Birmingham and Northampton was by having a vote and majority ruling because this was the most fair way of deciding. Northampton had the majority yet I feel a lack of engagement from some of the group members. While I understand Northampton is further away and most of the group cannot pop down regularly to the town centre just to have a look around, we are doing a national project and there are copious amounts of online research potentials to make up for this. Not to mention I would be more than happy for them to send me to go check anything out for them. We are also planning a visit to Northampton anyway so that everyone in the group can get a feel for the town and the possibilities.

sunday

more potential narratives:

the high street was mare alive when we were children, the space could mimic the feeling of being a child again, transporting you to a different time.

Northamptons love for theatre (taking design inspiration from the circus?)

dystopian death of the high street, artistic representation of what the current high street looks/feels like.

fireworks/ gunpowder plot

During our group discussion on Wednesday, the others mentioned that they were visual people who struggle to understand a concept unless they can see it. to help display these narratives, I put together some Pinterest boards. We said we would make some designs for the space over the week so I have opted to go for collages to propose this.

here are the mood board/ collages I put together:

^childhood

we could also use charity shop shirts/ garments to make a more sustainable exhibition as well as highlight the high levels of consumerism that takes place in shops on the high street.

^gunpowder

this narrative could be tied with the Northampton landmarks too.

^circus/theatre

^dystopian

this reminded me of the nature lab in first year, specifically joe's group and their "nature will prevail" ethos.

[earaercircular]

This is how cities and municipalities deal with climate protection

At the district conference in Taufkirchen[1], the town halls should take a position on how far they are with their efforts. While some municipalities want to be CO₂-free by 2030, others like Ottobrunn[2] and Haar[3] are taking it easy.

The climate protection conference in Taufkirchen[4] was already well advanced, various lectures were given, for example about the photovoltaic bundle campaign in Grünwald[5] and the wind power project in the Hofoldinger Forest[6], when Annika Gehrmann took the floor and it suddenly became dead quiet in the hall. "When I imagine our future," says the mother of two, "then I get sick." Floods, heat records and streams of refugees - what do you feel there, throws the lawyer, who is involved in the Neubiberg initiative "Climate Neutral 2035"[7], as a rhetorical question in the hall. "Anger at the far too hesitant climate policy in this country?" She doesn't go that far after all. But Gehrmann says: "The responsibility lies with the mayors, the parliamentary groups and the administrations."

This is exactly what the first climate protection conference of the district of Munich in the culture and congress centre OPF Taufkirchen is aimed at. Last year, the district sent the town halls data sets and the software to develop climate protection goals and to store them with actions such as a wind power project. In Taufkirchen, the oath is now being taken: 22 of 29 municipalities will state how high their CO₂ emissions per citizen should be in 2030, when they want to be climate-neutral in terms of heat and electricity and when overall. Are missing: Baierbrunn, Ismaning, Kirchheim, Unterschleißheim, Planegg. Ottobrunn and Haar do not have a stand in the foyer either. The approximately 400 visitors, who gather information and exchange ideas between the lectures in the hall, see empty pinboards under the names of both municipalities.

Many mayors are there. For example Harald Zipfel (SPD) from Neuried[8], who is standing in front of the information board on which the climate protection activities of his community are presented, and is on fire when it comes to whether the town hall or the individual can make a difference. "Either I start," says Zipfel, "or I don't." He started it himself. Zipfel is a passionate cyclist, without an auxiliary engine. He cycled from Neuried to Taufkirchen. And he says that the day before he had cycled to Unterföhring[9] for his appointment and will do the same thing in Unterschleißheim[10] on Friday. Colleagues often looked at him in amazement, says Zipfel. But it hardly takes him any longer than others by car. And he is outside and moving.

Neuried wants to achieve emissions of 1.2 tons of carbon dioxide per citizen by 2030 - and be completely climate-neutral by 2035. This makes you one of the ambitious communities. The district has set itself the cross sum of the municipal targets at 2.8 tons per citizen in 2030, energetic climate neutrality by 2040 and absolute by 2045. This cannot be achieved with mayors cycling alone. Zipfel knows that too, and says that Neuried is pushing ahead with the plans for a wind farm in Forstenrieder Park.[11] "You can do a lot," says Zipfel. Neuried lies between large geothermal projects in Pullach[12] and Graefelfing[13]. You could connect there. Zipfel sees potential in the use of waste heat from the data centre at the Max Plank Institute[14] in Martinsried[15].

Similar projects will be discussed at many stands. Putzbrunn's[16] mayor Edwin Klostermeier (SPD) talks about the expansion of district heating in the forest settlement, where heat is obtained from the geothermal power plant of Stadtwerke München in Kirchstockach.[17] The expansion is progressing, the new high school will be connected. A location for wind power is relatively safe. Klostermeier is counting on 3.2 tons of Co₂ per inhabitant of Putzbrunn in 2030, which also has something to do with the motorway, whose emissions have an impact, as he says. According to Zipfel, the nearby motorway does not cloud the balance sheet in Neuried. She is not part of the community.

Again and again it is a question of how sensible it is to set goals that are also challenging. Oberhaching's[18] key figures are 1.9 tons for 2030, limited climate neutrality in 2035 and full in 2040. Mayor Stefan Schelle points to the display board at the Oberhaching stand on the project mentioned there, 58 percent of the sunlit roof areas by 2040 with photovoltaic modules to equip and asks if that is realistic. He doesn't seem sure of himself. The demand for energy has also increased enormously. Earlier generations would have heated a room with a small oil stove, which was not a problem. Looking ahead, Schelle says: "Everyone has to get involved here." Not with pressure, but a change in consciousness is needed.

In any case, the climate nerds are now officially sitting in the Unterhachinger[19] town hall. According to the board he is holding up at the conference, Wolfgang Panzer is making every effort to be completely climate-neutral with his community in seven years. Photovoltaics, wind turbines in the Perlacher Forest[20] and geothermal energy should make this possible. But is that realistic? Many warn against window dressing. Planegg[21] has not yet named any goals, but is represented with a stand in Taufkirchen, and climate manager Jörg Degen says that they do not want to name any dates out of the blue. A concept will be presented at the end of 2023. Planegg's second mayor Judith Grimme says: "We are on the way." She speaks of wind power and agri-photovoltaics. She describes the conference as a "great format, a great get-together of the district municipalities".

Some are conspicuous by their absence. The municipalities are by no means obliged to participate in the district initiative. You can ignore that, like Ottobrunn, where Mayor Thomas Loderer has stated several times in advance that he thinks little of goals and all the more of concrete projects in his community. And as far as that is concerned, you are at the forefront. Haar is also committed to climate protection. Mayor Andreas Bukowski  has made it into the town hall with a black-green agenda and works relatively closely with the Greens, who are deputy mayor Ulrich Leiner. Bukowski emphasizes that Haar wants to become a circular city, meaning that sustainability and the circular economy are to be studied through to the end.

"The calculation of the climate targets falls short"

But why is the climate conference being hidden? A Greens local councillor is present with Henry Bock, who says: "It's a shame that we don't participate." He's puzzled about the reasons himself. The head of the environmental department in the town hall, Lukas Röder, does not want to comment at the conference and refers to a press release the next day. It then says: "In our opinion, the calculation of the climate targets according to the specifications of the climate conference falls short." Climate-friendly energy supply is one of several important levers. The municipality wants to use all levers in the transition to a circular economy and go one step further. A "detailed and concrete milestone plan for the expansion of renewable energies and climate protection" will be presented in autumn.

In any case, the climate conference makes it clear who is doing what and why - or not.      's mayor Dietmar Gruchmann says bluntly: "We all want it. It's a shame if we aren't allowed." And in an interview he once again complains about the brakemen at the German air traffic control (DFS), which prevented the construction of three wind turbines in Garching[22] due to specific conditions at the Oberschleißheim[23] airfield. Gruchmann says that the Technical University is planning a 25,000 square meter photovoltaic system on roofs. In addition, the city could get a chance in the new tender by the TU for the heat supply with geothermal energy.

Like the other seven mayors of the Northern Alliance municipalities, Gruchmann sees himself as a driving force in wind power, for example. Unterschleißheim Mayor Christoph Böck, whose city has a stand in Taufkirchen but does not name any climate targets, will announce a concept in the course of the year. "We do this thoroughly." 23-year-old Bernhard Schüßler finds this disappointing. The Green City Councilor in Unterschleißheim and "Fridays for Future"[24] activist would have expected, in his own words, that the largest city in the district would be a pioneer. You have more resources for this in the town hall than others. It is high time to actively fight the climate crisis.

Source

Bernhard Lohr, So halten es Städte und Gemeinden mit dem Klimaschutz, in Süddeutsche Zeitung, 26-05-2023, https://www.sueddeutsche.de/muenchen/landkreismuenchen/taufkirchen-klimaschutzkonferenz-klimawandel-kommunen-klimaschutzziele-1.5883648

[1] The 1st municipal climate conference of the district of Munich was a complete success! Over 250 participants came to the congress centre in Taufkirchen. The main goal of the conference was for the county and each county-affiliated municipality to announce their greenhouse gas reduction goals and the year by which carbon neutrality will be achieved. The communities had set up stands in the foyer where people could find out about the respective plans and exchange ideas.

[2] Ottobrunn is a municipality southeast of Munich, Bavaria, Germany, founded in 1955. Ottobrunn consists of mainly semi-detached and detached houses, as well as extensive garden areas. The municipality is the second-most densely populated in all of Germany, trailing only Munich, and ahead of Berlin.

[3] Haar is a municipality in the district of Munich, in Bavaria, Germany. It is 12 km east of Munich (centre). As of 2017 it had a population of more than 20,000.

[4] Taufkirchen is a small community south of Munich, near Oberhaching and Unterhaching in Bavaria, southern Germany.

[5] Grünwald is a municipality in the district of Munich, in the state of Bavaria, Germany. It is located on the right bank of the Isar, 12 km southwest of Munich (centre). As of 31 December 2020 it had a population of 11,303.

[6] The Hofoldinger Forst is a forest area south of Munich. It was unincorporated until January 1, 2011, when it was incorporated into the surrounding parishes. Since then, 88.5 percent of the forest has belonged to the district of Munich and 11.5 percent to the district of Miesbach.

[7] The goal of the Climate Neutral 2035 initiative is a climate-neutral community in Neubiberg in the areas of electricity, heat and mobility in 2035. The core concern of the initiative is the creation of all necessary framework conditions for the realization of climate neutrality in the private, commercial and public sectors. https://klimaneutral2035.de/unsere-ziele/

[8] Neuried is a municipality in the district of Ortenau in Baden-Württemberg in Germany.

[9] Unterföhring is a municipality in Upper Bavaria. It lies adjacent to the northeast side of Munich, and is one of the nearest suburbs to Munich's central district.

[10] Unterschleißheim is a town in Bavaria, Germany. It is located about 17 km north of Munich central, and has a resident population of 29,464 (December 31, 2021).

[11] The Forstenrieder Park is a large forest area southwest of Munich. The state forest, of which it mainly consists, is located in the district of Munich, mostly on unincorporated territory, which has an area of 37.09 km². Together with the Forst Kasten, which adjoins seamlessly to the north-west, and the Fürstenrieder Wald, it forms a 49.12 km² large landscape protection area.

[12] Pullach, officially Pullach i. Isartal, is a municipality in the district of Munich in Bavaria in Germany. It lies on the Isar Valley Railway and is served by the S 7 line of the Munich S-Bahn, at the Großhesselohe Isartalbahnhof, Pullach and Höllriegelskreuth railway stations.

[13] Gräfelfing is a municipality in the district of Munich, in Bavaria, Germany. It is located 1 km west of Munich.

[14] The Max Planck Society for the Advancement of Science (German: Max-Planck-Gesellschaft zur Förderung der Wissenschaften e. V.; abbreviated MPG) is a formally independent non-governmental and non-profit association of German research institutes. Founded in 1911 as the Kaiser Wilhelm Society, it was renamed to the Max Planck Society in 1948 in honor of its former president, theoretical physicist Max Planck. The society is funded by the federal and state governments of Germany.

[15] Martinsried is one of Munich's two science suburbs. It is a section of Planegg municipality in the district of Munich in Bavaria, Germany.

[16] Putzbrunn is a town in the district of Munich, Bavaria in Germany.

[17] Kirchstockach is a district of the municipality of Brunnthal in the Upper Bavarian district of Munich. The Kirchdorf is about one and a half kilometers north of Brunnthal.

[18] Oberhaching is a municipality in Bavaria, Germany, with 13,638 inhabitants (2020) on an area of 26.6 km2. It is located 15 km south of Munich city centre and has a 1,250 year history.

[19] Unterhaching is the second largest municipality in the district of Munich in Bavaria, Germany, located to the south of Munich city centre and easily accessible via two federal motorways.

[20] The Perlacher Forest is a 13.36 km² large, unincorporated forest area south-east of Munich. Together with the Grünwalder Forest and the Forstenrieder Park, it belongs to the "Southern Operational Class" of the Munich forestry service of the Bavarian State Forests and is of great importance to the population as a local recreation area, as it offers a close-to-home experience of nature and the opportunity for biological and environmental education. It is part of Munich's green belt.

[21] Planegg is a municipality in the district of Munich, in Bavaria, Germany. It is located on the river Würm, 13 km west of Munich (centre).

[22] Garching bei München (Garching near Munich) or Garching is a city in Bavaria, near Munich. It is the home of several research institutes and university departments, located at Campus Garching.

[23] Oberschleißheim is a municipality in the district of Munich, and a suburb to Munich in Bavaria, Germany. It is located 13 km north of Munich (centre). As of 2005 it had a population of 11,467.

[24] Fridays for future…or FFF, is a youth-led and -organised global climate strike movement that started in August 2018, when 15-year-old Greta Thunberg began a school strike for climate. In the three weeks leading up to the Swedish election, she sat outside Swedish Parliament every school day, demanding urgent action on the climate crisis. She was tired of society’s unwillingness to see the climate crisis for what it is: a crisis. https://fridaysforfuture.org/what-we-do/who-we-are/

[peachhyychenle]

bloom bloom, heart | h.rj

'bloom bloom pow! the moment i met you, i felt like i'd explode. my heart fluttered. i hope it's not a dream' - bloom bloom, the boyz

pairing: florist!renjun x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.6k

for the nostalgic melodies event hosted by @knet-bakery

playlist: bloom bloom the boyz, life still goes on nct dream, dive into you nct dream, cherry kisses chungha

a/n: my first fic for an event!! i hope you all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. also,, go check out everyone else that participated in the event!! oh, i also haven't had the time to proof-read this so, sorry lmao.

summary: flowers held many different meanings, and renjun loved that. from giving someone a baby's breath to giving them peonies, he loved how up front the message was, yet how hidden it was to someone that didn't understand their true meanings. You had always adored flowers, the colours, the scents, the meanings. And so, every week, you would go into Floral Dreams, to buy new flowers to draw, however Renjun would always throw in additional flowers to express his ever-growing crush on you, unbeknownst to him you understood every word.

If you had told Renjun this time last year he would be working part time as a florist, he would've simply laughed. But yet here he is, adorning a black apron, rearranging the plants in the display cabinet.

Floral Dreams was a great place for Renjun. It was never too busy, it was a five minute walk to his apartment and, thanks to Donghyuck, he has learned far more about flowers in the past month than he has learned about art history at his uni classes. He would never admit it to him, but Renjun was intrigued by the meanings each flower held.

From the bluebell to the yellow carnation, every flower held a different meaning. At first, Renjun couldn't care less. They were just flowers after all, their only job to him was to sit and look pretty. However the longer he spent in the floristry, the more his curiosity and his passion grew.

And now here he was, currently wiping down the counter he had just used to arrange a bouquet for somebody's birthday.

As he returned behind the till, the soft chime of the shop door bell rang. He glanced over and locked eyes with you. You seemed to be a regular. always popping in on a Wednesday afternoon, no matter the weather, to buy different pre-made bouquets. At first, Renjun found it odd how you would only buy one particular colour palette of flowers or even just a singular flower, however as you came in more often than not with a camera bag over your shoulder along with a sketchbook poking out the top of the tote bag you carried, it started becoming clear why you would buy them.

His current theories are that you are an artist that just really liked to paint flowers (specifically pink and yellow varieties) or you're a plant mum that just has an apartment filled to the brim with colourful flowers and plants.

His first hunch was correct.

A few months ago, you had moved into Neo City in order to attend the local university and study fine art. It was an interesting place for sure. It was a quaint town yet there was always something going on, whether it be different celebrations for certain holidays or events, to small annual carnivals and parades that would happen.

During your first week of moving in, you had explored the town centre, natural curiosity getting the better of you. That was when you stumbled upon Floral Dreams. The forest green painting on the window frames along with several broad leafed plants sat outside the shop, charmed you.

You remember when you first met Renjun. It was a rainy Wednesday about a month after you had moved. Your classes had just finished and you decided to buy a small bouquet. Something to brighten your dreary dorm room. And so you headed to Floral Dreams. When you stepped into the shop, instead of the cheery greeting you would usually get from Donghyuck, you found that he was busy talking to another guy, Renjun.

Both boys had briefly glanced towards the door, with Donghyuck giving a small wave, whilst the other boy shot you a smile. He was cute.

Returning the wave with your own, you continued into the shop, looking at all the flowers, taking in their colours and scents. Five minutes had gone by and you had chosen all the flowers you had wanted and walked up to the counter to place your order.

You rang the small bell placed on the countertop and after a few seconds, the new guy from earlier emerged from the back room and properly greeted and introduced himself, Renjun.

To say he was pretty was an understatement. He had a soft smile, kind eyes and long hair which made him look ethereal. His voice was melodic. So melodic that you only snapped back to reality halfway through his sentence.

You purchased the flowers and had another look around the empty shop, this time to admire the blossoming flowers. Back at the counter, Renjun would glance at you, whilst he wrapped the bouquet, his mind thinking about your smile and vibe whilst his hands carefully wrapped the bouquet up.

When he was finished, he rang the desk bell to catch your attention. He handed you the flowers and you were on your way. Not before turning back to Renjun and shooting him one last smile with a cheerful goodbye.

From the moment you walked in, Renjun knew his heart had exploded and his slightly dull world would never be the same again.

Week after week you would come back to the shop. It was always at 4pm and it was always an hour into Renjun's shift. You guys had managed to acquaint yourselves and make small talk, with the weather and how both of you had been, being the usual topic of choice.

Today Renjun was determined to make a move. Whether it was changing the topic to be something more in depth, or giving his number to you, he was definitely going to do something. And so when you walked up to the counter to place your order, Renjun made his move. He asked the question that had been on his mind. Why in the heavens did you buy so many flowers? The laughter that followed made Renjun's heart flutter, it was beautiful.

You then proceeded to explain the reason you moved and why almost all the store's sales were from you. Upon hearing that you went to the same university he did, Renjun was enthralled and began talking about his passion for art and the history behind famous pieces.

Much to his dismay, his hands had a mind of their own, and had wrapped up your selected bouquet far too quickly for his liking. Just as you were about to grab the bouquet, Renjun let out a 'wait!' which made you pause.

He ran into the back room and came out a moment later with some ribbon along with a couple of gardenias and blue salvias. 'It'll make the bouquet look amazing, trust me' he said with that smile you had fallen for.

Once he was done, you took the flowers, bid him adieu and left, ready to take photographs of this masterpiece.

As soon as you left, Renjun let out a sigh of content and his heart started to calm down. He had a crazy idea to use what he had learned from Donghyuck, and to confess to you in the form of flowers.

It was a bold move, one that made him feel happy with himself.

Over the next couple of months the same routine would occur. You arrived, picked out flowers, ordered the bouquet, Renjun would wrap them up, you would take them, then leave.

However, as time went on, you began noticing flowers that you hadn't picked out.

For example, you had ordered a bouquet with mainly red flowers, with a couple of white ones to make it more visually appealing, however you don't really remember picking up the white camellia. Or that time you noticed a couple of yellow jasmines mixed with your sunflowers.

You eventually thought of looking up what these flowers meant. You knew one of your old high school flowers loved gardening and would often talk about flower meanings, but you had never paid any mind to them. Oh how you wish you had.

And so that's how you spent the evening on different websites looking at different meanings for all the flowers you could remember buying, and the definitions.

The morning after, you had a brilliant idea.

That next week, you came in at the usual time with a list on your phone of all the flowers you had never actually bought. You suspected that a certain someone kept slipping different flowers into your bouquet, which was actually quite sweet to you, however you were going to surprise him.

You picked out various flowers that were composed for a yellow, blue and white theme. You included the yellow jasmines and gardenias, along with the white camellias and blue salvias. Additional flowers were added and made a stunning bouquet, the best you had imagined yet.

For how quiet the shop was, your heart was thumping a lot louder than usual, despite this you walked to the till with a small smile. The normal routine went on, Renjun making conversation with you. The topic for today was conspiracies and aliens, which would usually be quite interesting to you, but your mind was in a different place.

Just as Renjun was tying the last ribbon up, a 'wait!' escaped your lips. A slightly startled Renjun paused to look at you. Dashing away to the front of the store, you picked out a red rose and walked back to where he was waiting.

Much to his surprise, you added the rose to the centre of the bouquet, pushed the bouquet towards him and then pulled out a letter that had been in your coat pocket and pushed it across the counter in his direction.

He froze. Almost everyone knew what a red rose meant.

He opened the letter. All the flowers he had given you with their meanings were listed, along with the red rose.

I love you.

Underneath was a small paragraph. His already racing heart began to explode as he read the words 'let's go on a date tomorrow' followed with your number underneath.

He looked back up to you. You were currently looking everywhere and anywhere that wasn’t Renjun.

Placing the letter down, he came around from behind the desk and hugged you. He could feel you tense up under him, however in a matter of seconds, your arms were around him, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

From the moment he met you, his heart had exploded, the colours in his world seemed to be brighter whenever you were there.

He loved hearing your laugh, seeing your smile, being in your presence.

Time felt non-existent with you.

He loved you, as much as you loved him.

And that was all he needed.

[holidaywishes]

It’s Just Sex

  Requested: 👍

  Summary/Request: So I was hoping for maybe a bi reader and her and Fred have kind of like a sugar daddy/dom kind of relationship but not very intense more of a soft caring dom with real feelings there as well. anyway, before the reader met Fred she was in a kind of friends with benefits relationship with a woman and that relationship was also very dom/sub centred and maybe her old lover comes to Toronto for maybe a business trip or something (I’m imagining powerful businesswoman vibes here) and asks the reader to meet her for drinks and when she tells Fred and explains their relationship to him somehow Fred ends up joining them for drinks and maybe her ex lover suggests something and it goes from there 👀

  Warning: smut as requested, drug use, maybe some fluff, maybe some angst or jealousy?

  Author’s Note: Gonna be honest, my experience is limited in, like, all aspects so I don’t know how this will turn out or if it will really be what you’re looking for, anon, but I’m taking my best shot. I hope you still enjoy it! I also want to apologize if I took any missteps in the way I talked about bisexuality — my intention is never to offend and this was my first time writing a bi reader so please feel free to let me know if/where I went wrong. Stay Golden loves <3!

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

  You grew up in Antigonish, a small town in Nova Scotia, so you were used to more of a slow paced life. You got good grades, never broke the law and the only form of rebelling you did came in the form of stealing a five cent candy from the convenience store on the corner of Main Street. So when you moved to Boston for University, you expected to be overwhelmed but you didn’t expect to meet anyone -- but then she showed up

  “Hi there” a voice said confidently behind you, leading you to turn around slowly to see who she was talking to

  “Me?” you asked, surprised when she nodded with a smile, “oh, hi”

  “I saw you order a Manhattan and I thought to myself, ‘now that’s my type of girl’” she joked

  “Honestly, I hate it,” you admitted, playing with the base of the glass, “I thought I was ordering a Cosmopolitan but Manhattan sounded more familiar so I ordered that but now...”

  “You’re cute,” the woman said, taking the empty seat next to you, “I love Manhattan’s so I’ll happily take yours but let me get you your Cosmo”

  “You don’t have to...” you blushed

  “I know” she replied confidently, earning a shy smile from you

  “I’m (Y/N) by the way”

  “Adrianne,” she smiled, “but all my friends call me Roxy”

  “Why Roxy?” you chuckled and she gave some wrap around answer about it being an inside joke from middle school. You were mesmerized with her the entire night. The way she spoke. The way she took small sips from her drink and licked her lips. The way her dark hair would brush across her exposed skin of her back as her smile hypnotized you. The way her hand grazed your knee when she made a joke or the sound of her laugh when you didn’t know she was flirting with you. She gave you her number at the end of the night and you spent the next week trying to think of exactly what to say, “she’s way too good for me” you sighed, pushing your phone across the counter

  “Why?” Your best friend, Nicole, asked. You two went to high school together so she had a habit of hyping you up when she thought you needed it most

  “If you had seen her, you would agree with me, Nic. She just has this way about her,” you gushed, “she’s just cool and charming and way too good for me”

  “You are amazing. Who cares if this girl is ‘cool,’ we’re not in high school anymore so you just need someone who is going to see how amazing you are”

  “Nic, I don’t even know if she wants to start something...”

  “You said she gave you her number right?”

  “Yeah...”

  “So she obviously wants something”

  “Yeah but is all she wants sex? Because I don’t know if I’m the hook up type”

  “Text her. Call her. Find out what she’s looking for” she smirked, filling up a glass of water from the faucet to drown out any argument you tried to make. You scoffed at her ability to brush you off before you grabbed your phone and sent Adrianne a text

  “Wanna go to dinner?” you asked simply

  “I could eat” she replied. Later that night, you found yourself standing outside the restaurant, taking a deep breath before stepping inside, knowing she was waiting for you. It was an effortless night; you laughed, you told her some of your weirdest childhood stories, she told you about her family and what she was doing in Boston. The night was rounded out by following her back to her apartment and letting your bodies take over. You thought that the date went well but you didn’t see her for a few months when she randomly texted you, an occurrence that would happen every two weeks or so from that point on, and it became very clear to you that she was looking for a ‘friend with benefits.’ You weren’t a huge fan of it but you couldn’t get Adrianne out of your head so you went along with it but she didn’t seem to take it well when you said you had gotten a job in Toronto

  “We’ve been doing this for years, Roxy,” you whined, finally able to call her by her nickname, “I’ve graduated, we’ve graduated. I have a chance to start my life with a really successful company and I don’t know why you wouldn’t want me to take it. It’s not like you need me to stick around for anything. You're the one who didn’t want to have any commitments so this shouldn’t cause any problems for you”

  “I just don’t get why you wanna go back to Canada” she said with a tinge of disgust on her words and you felt a rush of rage roll through you

  “Because it’s home” you said plainly, scoffing before turning on your heels

  “(Y/N)” she sighed

  “Adrianne,” you replied softly, “I really hope we can see each other again someday. You will always be such an important part of my life but I need to take this step”

  “I understand,” she smiled, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean anything about--”

  “I know,” you interrupted with a smile, “I’ll see you.. when I see you.” As soon as you landed in Toronto, a giant grin spread across your face because it finally felt like home. You walked into e=mc2 on your first day anxious to get started and they did not waste any time putting you to work

  “Alright, (Y/N), so we’ve got a wedding on Friday, a conference on Wednesday, a sweet sixteen next month that we have to settle all the details for next week, a gala in about 3 months -- give or take -- that is going to take a lot of work and a lot of time,” your boss explained, rambling slightly as the two of you rushed around the office, “and then there’s all the smaller events that we do. You’ll be very busy. Are you okay with all of this?”

  “Of course!” you exclaimed, struggling to keep up with her footsteps

  “We know it can be a bit jarring at first, because it all happens so quickly, which is why we put a clause in your contract that states you have a 30 day trial period. Like a subscription to Netflix,” she laughed, “to see if you can handle it or if you want to drop it”

  “Smart,” you smirked, taking a breath when your boss finally stopped in the break room and got himself a glass of water, “but I don’t think I’ll need it. I love the fast paced environment”

  “Good,” she smiled in return, “I think you’ll fit in really well here.”

xx

Freddie’s P.O.V

  You had noticed her once before. She was running through the building, clearly stressed about something, when you were walking back to your apartment with Auston. You saw her again a few weeks later, having lunch in the café across the street; you found yourself waiting for the next time you’d see her would be.

  “Shit shit shit” you heard someone whisper from down the hall, finding her rushing down the corridor with an arm full of papers. You tried to move out of her way, not wanting to cause her undue stress when her shoulder connected with your arm sharply

  “Oomph” the two of you said in tandem as her papers went flying

  “Ow,” she groaned as she rubbed her shoulder, her eyes still not looking up at yours while she tried to collect everything that you’d made her drop, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m just in a bit of a rush...”

  “That’s alright” you said softly and she finally looked up at you

  “I... I really am sorry. I’ve been told I need to be more careful” she smiled

  “Really, it’s fine. No harm done,” you replied, “do you have time for a drink?”

  “Uhm,” she hesitated, fixing the bag on her shoulder, “I can’t... I have a lot of work to do. I’m sorry”

  “How about tomorrow?” you called when she hastened down the hall and she looked back at you, not saying anything, “I’m Freddie by the way!” she stopped where she stood before turning around and letting a smile grow on her face

  “(Y/N)!” she returned. The two of you eventually met up for lunch and, after that, couldn’t stop talking to each other; you couldn’t stop thinking about her. “I want to be very clear...” she started one day, after months of day dates, midnight snacks and weekly hookups. You furrowed your brow at her words, “I don’t want to just mess around. I did that once, with my ex, and it wasn’t right for me. If you don’t want a relationship, that’s fine, but tell me now because I don’t wanna waste my time.” Her bluntness was a breath of fresh air and you couldn’t help but be more attracted to with every word she spoke

  “I wouldn’t want to waste your time...” you smirked, wanting to keep her on her toes just a little longer. “I don’t want to mess around either. I’ve done that before and I don’t want to do it anymore either. I want to be with you” she jumped into your arms and crashed her lips onto yours. From then on, the two of you were almost inseparable, learning new things at every turn, “I’ve never heard of Antigonish” you said when she told you about her hometown

  “It’s small but it’s cute. It’s a good place to raise a family...”

  “What about that?” you asked, “a family? You want one?”

  “Are you asking if I want kids?” she teased

  “Maybe”

  “Do you want kids?”

  “Yeah,” you laughed, “I want a big family. Lots of kids”

  “How many is lots?” she asked seriously

  “As many as you’ll give me”

  “Aww aren’t you cute”

  “I know” you joked and she pushed your shoulder playfully. After nearly two years, she had never really opened up her exes, no matter how many times you asked, and it was starting to really get on your nerves

  “Why are you getting so mad?” she yelled

  “Why won’t you be honest with me?”

  “I really don’t have any ‘exes’ so there’s nothing to talk about”

  “You said that your ex just wanted to mess around, so obviously you had at least one ex” you argued

  “I.. I called her my ex because it was easier to explain than we were ‘friends with benefits’ because it was more than that to me but it wasn’t to her but I hate the term ‘complicated’ even if it’s what it was,” she countered, still trying to argue her point but you were caught up on the fact that her ex was a girl that you couldn’t focus. “Freddie?”

  “Sorry,” you shook your head, “you said her. Your ex is a girl?”

  “Yeah...” was all she said, earning a scoff from you

  “That’s it?”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Was it like an experiment?”

  “An exper-- no it wasn’t an experiment,” she scoffed, “I’m bisexual”

  “And you never thought to tell me?!”

  “It’s not a big deal so I.. didn’t think to mention it”

  “It is a big deal!” you shouted

  “Why? Why is it a big deal?”

  “You dated a woman!”

  “And I’ve dated men... plus, I told you, I didn’t date her. We just hooked up”

  “Look, I don’t care the bisexual thing. I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me about it?” you asked, sitting down on the couch

  “I don’t know... I guess I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Not everyone accepts it, my grandparents sure as hell didn’t” she sighed

  “I love you,” you said, “I’m not your grandparents. You love who you love and that shouldn’t be helped. I’m just happy that I’m the one you love this time”

  “I do love you,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around your neck, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner but thank you for not... overreacting.”

  “Let’s just make this the last secret for a while okay?” you chuckled

  “I can make that work.”

xx

  “I’m in town” a number you didn’t recognize texted you and you racked your brain about who it could be

  “Sorry... who is this?”

  “Ha ha very funny”

  “Nicole?” you sent, thinking that your best friend changed her number

  “No?”

  “Charlie?”

  “Seriously (Y/N)?”

  “I’m sorry. I really don’t know who this is. I don’t recognize this number...”

  “It’s Roxy” your cursor blinked in the empty space of your text box while you tried to think of something to say. It had been almost five years since you last saw her but seeing her name on the screen still made your heart race. Without even trying, she’d begun messing with your head all over again

  “Oh. Hi”

  “Oh. Hi?” she repeated your message before quickly sending another, “really that’s all I get?”

  “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you...”

  “We said we’d keep in touch. That didn’t happen, clearly”

  “You’re a busy woman. Last I heard, you were well on your way to being a CEO at some Fortune 500 company”

  “Ah yes. That planned changed”

  “It did?” you replied quickly, intrigued about what she could be in town for

  “It did. It was fun while it lasted but I’m still busy, I like it that way”

  “What are you up to then?”

  “Well... I think we should meet up and talk about it. I would love to see you” You could picture her lips speaking those words. The way her tongue lingered on the back of her teeth as if she didn’t want the ‘L’ to escape her mouth before her breath could reach it. The way her grin would shape the sound of ‘you’ to make it sound more like an invitation than a word. You saw it all in your head and your fingers responded before you could stop them

  “Sure! What about Friday?”

  “Sounds good. I heard of a bar called The Cloak Bar that has a great vibe. I’m excited to try it”

  “Yeah I’ve heard of it. Do you mind if I bring someone along?” you asked, biting the inside of your cheek nervously

  “Not at all”

  “Great! See you Friday!”

  “(Y/N)?” Freddie said when he saw you staring you at your phone screen in silence, “babe?”

  “Huh?” you said, still frazzled by the conversation you’d just had

  “Everything okay? You look a little distracted...”

  “Wanna go to a bar on Friday?” you blurted out

  “Sure..” he scoffed

  “Good. Great. Good,” you stammered, “that’s good. You’ll get to meet an old friend of mine.. from Boston...”

  “An old friend?” he asked before you finally met his gaze, “an old friend.. your ex...”

  “She’s in town and wants to... catch up”

  “I’m sure she does” he teased, sitting down beside you

  “Don’t be like that. She texted me... I could’ve not invited you, she knows you’re coming”

  “She knows your boyfriend is coming?”

  “She knows you’re coming...”

  “(Y/N)...” he scoffed with a smile, dropping his head, “you didn’t say ‘my boyfriend is coming’ did you?” your silence said everything it needed to and Freddie fell back into the couch

  “I’m sorry!” you tried, embarrassed about what happened, “everything happened so fast! I didn’t know what to say. I don’t know why I didn’t say something about you, why I didn’t mention your name, I’m so sorry! But I do want you there!”

  “Relax,” he smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist and kissing your cheek, “It’s fine. I get it and you know what? I’m excited to meet this ‘Roxy’“

  “Good. You’ll like her!” you exclaimed, “but don’t call her Roxy... it’s an inside thing. I just wouldn’t want her to like hate you before getting to know you”

  “Okay,” he chuckled, “I promise, I’ll behave.” When Friday came along, you had changed your outfit countless times and you couldn’t calm your breathing; Freddie was finally able to calm you down enough that you could pick an outfit but your nerves were still getting the best of you. You showed up early and found a booth near the back and waited for Adrianne to walk through the door, watching your boyfriend’s reaction whenever you took your eyes off the entrance. “Babe... stop. You’re gonna be fine,” you laughed as he pressed a kiss to your lips, “I’m here for you.”

  “I’m just so nervous... I know I shouldn’t be but I am” you said before taking a deep breath and training your eyes back on the door

  “Is that her?” Freddie asked, nodding to the crowd of people who just walked in and you searched to see if she was among them. When you finally saw her, your first thought was she hasn’t changed a bit

  “Yeah... that’s her” you sighed, watching as her smile went wide when she found you. She was wearing, what looked like, a pin striped suit -- tapered legs with the highest stilettos you’d ever seen topped with a one button blazer, low enough that both you and Freddie could tell she was only wearing a bra underneath

  “Holy shit” you heard him gasp and you hit his chest before Adrianne got to the table

  “(Y/N),” she said in a sultry voice, the same one she’d used that night you first met, “it’s so good to see you again. You look great”

  “Me?” you blushed, “look at you! You look.. wow, just... wow”

  “Thank you” she smiled, her eyes moving to Freddie slowly

  “Sorry, this is my boyfriend. This is Freddie, Freddie this is Adrianne”

  “Nice to meet you” Freddie greeted politely, outstretching his hand to shake hers but Adrianne only smirked in return before taking a seat beside you, tucking herself quite close to you

  “It’s nice to meet you as well, Freddie...”

  “So.. tell me. What’s new? What brings you to the City?” you asked, moving closer to Freddie and his arm draped over your shoulder

  “I’m working on something. A merger, more or less, with the company I’m working for in Boston and one based out of Toronto. It appears the Canadians are not too keen to share with us Bostonian's” she laughed and you felt her hand land on your knee

  “Let’s get some drinks!” you said, clearing your throat, “they have great cocktails here!”

  “Don’t mind if I do” she said in the same sultry tone as before, peering over at Freddie, her hand still stationed on your knee and you could tell she was planning something; what that something was, remained to be seen.

xx

Adrianne’s P.O.V

  You weren’t expecting her to be in a relationship. Not that she wasn’t the type, just that she didn’t give you the impress she was dating but you could see why she was with him. He was big and he looked strong, she probably loved his hands on her body, his fingers inside her; god you missed having your fingers inside her. The way that she sunk into him told you that she felt safe with him and the way that he looked at her told you that he loved her and would likely do anything for her. You bit your lip as you watched the two of them interact, asking questions when you felt like it, keeping that ere of mystery about yourself that you’d always liked to. After two rounds of specialty cocktails and an extra old fashioned you ordered for (Y/N), the group was starting to loosen up a little

  “Babe, I need to get out,” she whispered to Freddie, leaning against his chest as she spoke, “can you move a little?”

  “Where’re you going?” he smirked

  “I have to pee” she giggled

  “Why don’t you just crawl over him?” you teased, half-expecting her to challenge you but wanting to see what she’d choose, when she squinted her eyes in mild annoyance before straddling her boyfriend, pecking his lips gently and shifting her body to the open space beside him.

  “You really bring out a different side of her, don’t you?” he smirked

  “I guess I just know a different version of her” you replied

  “So.. what kind of person handles mergers? What’s your job title?” he pried

  “Technically, I’m an Investment Advisor. That’s what it says on my business card but if you ask my bosses they’ll tell you I’m the badass who manages their portfolios so they don’t get fired or arrested for fraud” you replied proudly

  “Shit,” he scoffed, “sounds important”

  “What do you do?”

  “Nothing nearly as important,” he laughed, “I’m a goaltender. In the NHL”

  “For Toronto?” you asked, genuinely intrigued and he nodded, “well damn. That’s pretty cool. I’m starting to get a better idea why (Y/N) likes you”

  “I mean.. she’s not with me because of my job” he clarified but you could tell you had shaken him

  “Are you sure?” you teased, the situation moving more and more in your favour

  “I--”

  “I’m back!” she interrupted, a grin wide across her face as she slipped back into the booth, reaching across Freddie to grab her drink

  “So..” you continued, ending the conversation between you and Freddie, “what are the plans for the rest of the night, you two?”

  “Fred’s got practice tomorrow afternoon so we probably shouldn’t be out too late” she admitted, draping her arm over his shoulder before kissing his cheek

  “We could go somewhere,” you added, noticing Freddie’s head snap back to you as a glare pierced through you, “just us girls. Catch up some more, dance a little? Like old times?”

  “Rox..” she laughed, climbing onto her boyfriends lap, “I’m not really up for dancing tonight. I kinda miss our bed. All this alcohol is hitting me at once and I just wanna lay down”

  “Hold on,” you mocked, “are we not young? Are we not healthy? Are we not vivacious?”

  “Vivacious?” she chuckled

  “Are we not sexy?” you added

  “I don’t wanna dance tonight, Roxy” she countered

  “I have something for you,” you smiled, glancing at Freddie, “for us”

  “What’s that?” he asked

  “Ecstasy” you said plainly, laughing as (Y/N) choked on her drink

  “Hey!” she squirmed, “that’s illegal!”

  “Relax,” you teased, “we’re not gonna get caught. I only have two tablets, so you each can have half”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea...” (Y/N) hesitated and you shrugged, swallowing the small pill quickly

  “What?” you asked, “I’m not gonna waste a perfectly good pill, a perfectly good night, just because you’re not going to or because your boyfriend here as to stand around on ice tomorrow afternoon”

  “Roxy, don’t be rude!” she yelled before Freddie threw the pill in his palm down his throat, taking a swig of (Y/N)’s old fashioned to chase it down, “FREDDIE?!”

  “Babe, come on. It’ll be fine. Nothing bad will happen, I promise” he assured her

  “We’re here for you” you added

  “It’ll be fun” he said, nuzzling her neck with his nose and kissing her collarbone. She looked at the pill in her hand then back at you and Freddie, “why don’t we try something?”

  “I don’t know what else you guys want me to try?” she whined, earning a small laugh from the two of you, “what?”

  “No babe,” Freddie whispered, taking the pill from her palm, “let me take this and you just...” he leaned in, placing his fingers under her chin to bring her close to him, kissing her slowly and you watched as their tongues danced together, exchanging the pill. You noticed her hands tug at the fabric on his shoulders and you suddenly wondered how fast he could make her cum and if you could do better.

  “Maybe should we get out of here...” you leaned in between them, catching (Y/N)’s stare while her puffy lips pouted and her breath began to build. She looked back at Freddie, biting her lip as she tried to gauge his reaction. When he looked over at you, you raised your eyebrows as if to say ‘come on’ and he nodded in return; the three of you took a car back to Freddie’s apartment, you and Freddie unable to keep your hands off of (Y/N). You sat behind her, hands on her hips, before you pushed her hair away from her neck, planting kisses along the side up to her ear while Freddie messaged her thighs and kissed her shoulder and her hand snaked to the back of his neck. Her moans filling the car let you know that the Ecstasy was kicking in, her hand falling from Freddie’s neck to your leg told you that tonight was going to be exactly what you hoped for.

xx

  You didn’t know how it happened but when the three of you stumbled into Freddie’s apartment, you were hypnotized by the sensations covering your body. Roxy kept her hands firmly on your waist as her lips continued to softly kiss your neck while Freddie directed the two of you to his bedroom, the windows covering the room in an amber hue.

  “Lay down” Roxy whispered. You looked at Freddie before sitting down on the bed, not losing eye contact with him. Roxy was the first to take off any clothing, unbuttoning her blazer to expose the lacy bra she had underneath; you forgot how amazing her body was and you couldn’t control your hands reaching out to touch her. She smiled before leaning in to nip at your lips, placing her hands on either side of you as she hovered over you, making sure you were laying flat on the bed. You noticed her and Freddie exchange a look as if they could read each other’s minds; Roxy moved behind you while Freddie took her place in front of you. They started peeling of your clothes before their hands roamed your body, Roxy pulling you up gently to rest you in her lap before she leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. Freddie was taking his time with you, slowly kissing your thighs and teasing your core as he traded his lips from one thigh to the next, his breath cascading over your skin and driving you mad the more time that went by

  “Oh god” you whined at the lack of connection you were getting, catching Freddie’s smirk as he pulled back to pull off his shirt and Roxy began massaging your scalp. You saw the two of them glare at each other before your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of Roxy’s fingers tangling in your hair

  “You wanna fuck her?” you heard Freddie say, feeling his body hover over yours, “huh? Is that what you came here for?”

  “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Roxy returned

  “This was your plan wasn’t it? When you texted her, you just didn’t think I’d be here” Freddie grumbled

  “I had no idea you existed” she challenged, forcing your eyes to open

  “What the hell is going on?” you yelled to them, sitting up so you were between them. Neither of them answered you, they only glared at each other before continuing to kiss either side of your neck, Roxy’s hand trailing down your body until she found your clit; circling it until you let out a raspy moan, “fuck!” Freddie continued kissing down your body, stopping to kiss your nipples for moment before he stood up to take off his jeans

  “Sit up” Roxy whispered in your ear and you obliged, wrapping your arms around Freddie’s neck to pull him close to you, pushing your breasts to his chest while his hands grabbed your hips and Roxy removed her pants before taking her place behind you once more. “You’re so wet, baby” she smirked as your back began to arch at her touch

  “You look so sexy” Freddie added lowly and you dropped your head against Roxy’s lap until she moved back to lay your head onto the mattress, placing her legs on either side of your head, encouraging you to begin working at her orgasm. You felt Freddie push your legs apart before he guided himself into you, eliciting a loud moan that rippled through Roxy, forcing her to curse into the open space. You pressed your tongue flat against Roxy’s folds as Freddie rocked into your hips, allowing your ministrations to reach Roxy without you trying too much but when she ground her hips down a little, you brought your fingers up, curling them inside her as Freddie’s hands gripped your waist and ground himself into you, harder and harder, you had to stop what you were doing

  “Fuck!” you screamed, reaching out for him with one hand while your other remained where it was, your fingers pumping in and out of Roxy until she reached her climax. She sat back against the pillows as Freddie continued to fuck you, eventually swinging her legs to the side and making her way behind Freddie. You watched as she traced her fingers up his arms, kissing his shoulders while he crashed his hips against yours

  “How tight does she feel?” you heard Roxy whisper to Freddie

  “So tight” he moaned, Roxy continuing to glide her fingers across his body

  “Such a beautiful pussy isn’t it?” she smirked, kissing his neck in the process

  “God yes” he growled, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you up

  “Make her cum” Roxy whispered once more, her hands moving to push his hips into yours. Their breathing synced with each other as they brought you to a mindless state of bliss

  “Fuck” you breathed, the two of them crashing on the bed beside you, your chests rising and falling in sync.

  “Well shit” Roxy laughed

  “That was great” you smiled

  “We’re not done yet...” she said before your hand fell into Freddie’s chest. He brought it to his lips and you felt him smile against your skin before they moved you up against the pillows. You were exhausted, and you couldn’t say you were surprised; a threesome seemed like a lot of work without the drugs and alcohol and just as much with them. You lazily danced your finger across Freddie’s arm as you caught your breath, letting your free hand glide up Roxy’s leg before she smiled at you. She cupped your face with her hand and pressed her lips to yours, parting your lips with her tongue, allowing you to melt into her body; you felt Freddie’s erection push into your ass before his lips connected with your earlobe. His hands pulled your hips into him while you continued to kiss Roxy, your fingers now tangling in her hair, before you felt Freddie thrust into you from behind. You hummed at the sensation but couldn’t break the kiss you were sharing with Roxy, letting Freddie fuck you as hard as he could.

  “Fuck baby, you feel so good” he moaned

  “Fuck” you moaned in return, catching Roxy’s eyes before she kissed down your body until she reached your centre. Circling your clit with her tongue as Freddie fucked you from behind, your body becoming overwhelmed by sensation. It wasn’t long before you reached your second high, letting out a squeal as both Freddie and Roxy found the exact right spot at the same time, Freddie biting your shoulder as he kept himself inside you until he came. You fell back into his chest, panting as you calmed down, smirking when Roxy didn’t come back up from where she was. “What are you doing down there?” you laughed

  “I’m just catching my breath” she replied

  “I’ll be right back” Freddie said, kissing your temple before getting up and heading into the en suite bathroom. He came back with a damp face cloth and began cleaning you up, turning your body gently to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Roxy scoffed when he left without doing the same for her, “I thought I’d get a clean cloth for you” he said as soon as he came back in the room, doing the same for her as he did for you.

  “Well aren’t you just... perfect” she said, “prince of aftercare”

  “He’s pretty great” you smiled

  “Thanks,” he chuckled, “can I get anyone anything from the kitchen? Water?”

  “No I’m good, thanks babe”

  “I’ll take some wine if you got it. Wine always helps level me out after E” Roxy said

  “You got it, Adrianne” he smirked, making his way downstairs quickly, leaving the two of you to giggle and gossip about him

  “You really love him don’t you?” she said, pushing herself up onto the pillows where you were

  “I do” you confessed

  “You guys are good together” she replied and you could tell there was something she wasn’t saying

  “Thanks...” you furrowed your brow, “what’s wrong, Rox?”

  “Nothing,” she scoffed and you tilted your head, “no really. I just.. didn’t think I’d find you so domesticated”

  “Domesticated?” you laughed, “what about this night says ‘domesticated?’”

  “Not this night,” she smiled, “just how you are with him. It’s sweet. It’s just not what I expected”

  “What did you expect?” you questioned

  “I guess I thought you’d be independent. Being a boss ass bitch, like me,” she laughed, “and not wanting to settle down so you’d be f—”

  “Filling my time with random hookups?” you interrupted and she shrugged like it was obvious, “you know I’m not like that. I’ve never been like that.”

  “I’m happy for you” she added just as Freddie came in with her wine, nearly filled to the brim, “he’s a keeper” she whispered. She made quick work of the wine, finishing it almost immediately after she got it, and decided it was time she head out, “this was fun. Like really fun, but I think it’s time for me to go”

  “Adrianne...” you sighed, using her full name to try to convince her to stay

  “No really. I’ve got an early morning, you’ve got a busy day,” she replied, gesturing to a still-shirtless Freddie, “I had a great time but let’s just let it be that. It was nice to see you again, (Y/N), and it was nice to meet you, Freddie”

  “You too, Adrianne” he smiled sweetly

  “Oh please,” she laughed, “you’ve seen me naked. You can call me Roxy”

  “Why is it Roxy? You never really told me...” you asked with a smile

  “I went as Roxanne, or what I thought Roxanne would look like, for Halloween one year. You know like the Police song?” she explained while you and Freddie nodded, “well anyway, everyone got tired of singing the song to me, real quick, and Roxy was born”

  “I like that story” you smiled, noticing the shyest smile creep over Adrianne’s face; it was the first time she’d really been truly vulnerable with you

  “Take care of her, okay?” she said to Freddie

  “I will” he replied

  “Take care of yourself, Adrianne” you said softly

  “I will” and just like that, she was gone. You tucked yourself into your boyfriends chest and fell asleep; mumbling that you loved him before everything went dark. You weren’t sure if or when you’d ever hear from her again but, if one thing came from this night, you were pretty sure nothing was just sex anymore for Roxy.

[chilling-seavey]

Seasons Change (d.s.) - TWO

↳  A/N This one’s a little long but will give you a good insight into daily farm life at the Seavey residence! 

↳ Summary: Everyone knows everything about everyone in this small rural town in east Connecticut and the handsome single father who owns the farm down the main street seems to always be the talk of the town. Balancing the care of his acreage, raising his school-age son, and coaching the local boys’ hockey team keeps Daniel busy; but his mind never strays far from the expansive and vibrant flower gardens planted outside his farmhouse.

↳ Word Count: 2901

↳ Warnings: This story touches on topics such as loss of loved ones and grief. Nothing too detailed but read at your own discretion x

Every morning at 5:30, Daniel’s alarm rang loudly from his bedside table. It was routine now to pull himself out of his far too empty queen size bed and get dressed by the light of the bathroom sconces alone. The sun was rarely over the horizon this early but he opened the curtains in his bedroom and headed downstairs in jeans and a t-shirt, opening up the rest of the house in preparation for sunup. Lennox was still fast asleep in his bed when Daniel stepped out of the front door and trekked down the front porch steps, along the foot path, and across the gravel drive towards the barn.

The first hour of every morning was spent there; milking the cow as well as tending to the horses and the feed troughs. This used to be his favourite time – sitting on one stool with Marigold on the other, each tending to a cow as she quietly sang them into the morning. No one was more of a morning person than Marigold. She always made waking up early easy. But Daniel now milked the sole cow in silence, sometimes letting a small whistle come to his lips in the process as he worked, a tune that would follow him back down the path to the farmhouse.

On the opposite side of the house from the gravel drive was a small hallway that held the laundry room and mud room and in there was where the two buckets of milk went first thing. Daniel would pour the fresh milk into glass jugs and bring them right into the kitchen, leaving them in the freezer to cool with a timer set for one hour. All his work was precise to the minute.

By then, the sun would be rising and his hands would be scrubbed and it would be just about 6:30 when Daniel would take the stairs back up to the second floor to wake Lennox. This morning was no different and, like usual, the small Jack Russel Terrier greeted him with a wagging tail when he opened the door. Daniel bent down to give him a quick scratch behind the ears before stepping into the blue-painted room and he pulled open the curtains.

“Morning, Spud.” Daniel called to his son who was waking from the light that had suddenly been let into his room.

Lennox rolled sleepily onto his back and rubbed his eye with his fist, the small dog jumping up to join him on his single bed like he hadn’t been by the boy’s side all night. Daniel stopped by the side of his son’s bed and pet a hand over his hair, watching his same blue eyes flutter open to look up at him.

“Morning, Daddy.” Lennox yawned.

Daniel smiled at his sweet son and nudged his cheek with his finger, “Up and at ‘em, buddy. The chickens are waiting for you.”

Lennox giggled lightly and sat himself up, watching as Daniel pulled out an outfit for his son and draped the pants and shirt onto the end of the bed.

“I’m going to shower. Eggs on the kitchen counter, okay?” Daniel reminded the seven-year-old like he did every morning.

Lennox only replied with, “Yes, Daddy.” and watched his father leave.

While Daniel hurried to shower in the masted bedroom ensuite, Lennox got himself dressed and hurried down the stairs to tend to his morning chore. The dog ran at his heels out the front door and around to the side of the house on the edge of the fence just before the barn where the chicken coop was built. He wished the chickens good morning and gathered the eggs from the nesting boxes in the small basket he carried with him.

By the time Lennox had collected the eggs and returned inside, Daniel had just finished his shower and was prepping breakfast in the kitchen with wet hair and fresh clothes to start the day. The two of them had a good routine down between farm work and getting ready for the day, and while Daniel cooked up the eggs, Lennox brushed his hair and washed his face and brushed his teeth for school. They ate together in the breakfast nook just off the kitchen with windows on three sides of them directed right to the rising sun and glasses of perfectly fresh milk to pair with their eggs, bacon, and fruit.

The school bus came for 7:45 and Daniel always walked Lennox down the long driveway of their property to wait with him at the road for the bus to come. When it stopped at the end of their driveway, Daniel hugged and kissed his son goodbye and watched him get on the bus with Jack’s daughter from the next farm over.

Daniel spent his days alone on the farm, tending to the animals and testing to see if the ground was ready to be ploughed. After lunch, he drove down to the general store to pick up a few things, greeting Corbyn behind the counter with a friendly hello.

“What can I get you?” Corbyn asked.

Daniel took off his hat and set it on the counter, “Bag of chicken feed and the order that I put in the other day, please.”

“Of course.” Corbyn disappeared into the back of the store to gather the order and Daniel waited at the counter. He scanned the ice cream freezer near by but stopped himself from ordering a cone.

“Daniel!”

He turned at the sound of his name being called above the ring of the bell above the door to face an older woman rushing down the soup aisle towards him.

“Thank goodness! I was hoping I wouldn’t have to come knocking on your door.” she said, slightly breathless in her rush and he held out a hand for her to hold onto as she calmed herself down. “My front step is broken again. My husband walks far too heavily and it snapped right down the center. Would it be too much trouble for you to come take a look?”

“Not at all, Lydia.” Daniel chuckled politely. “I’ll have Corbyn grab me a piece of plywood with my order and I’ll stop by.”

“Oh, you are an angel, Daniel.” the older woman sighed, clutching onto his hand thankfully. “I don’t want to trip myself up those blasted steps.”

“Of course not.” Daniel agreed.

“I’ll pay you for it this time-”

“Oh, no, that’s-”

“I insist, Daniel.”

“Lydia, you don’t need to pay me.” Daniel said strongly. “Maybe just bring another one of your delicious cherry cobblers to next weeks brunch, alright?”

“Oh,” she flushed bashfully, “I suppose.”

“Alright.” Daniel smiled, giving her hand a pat. “I’ll be over in as soon as I pay for this order.”

Daniel seemed to be known as the handyman of Lincoln as well as the best hockey coach; he had built the chicken coop in his backyard himself and fixed up their farmhouse porch within the first month they had moved to town. Now everyone seemed to appreciate his attention to detail and his generous offers to help fix a broken step or a leaky roof…and he never once accepted payment. Daniel’s days were filled with helping out around the town and tending to his land until Lennox would come home from school around 3:00. Lennox would tell Daniel about his day while Daniel finished up the day’s work and then they would head inside together to start dinner. While dinner was being made, Lennox did his homework with the dog sleeping under his chair, and once they ate – always at the dining room table like Marigold always insisted – it was time to get changed for hockey for 6:00.

Both hockey bags were stored in the laundry room and once they were changed into sweats and t-shirts, the boys each grabbed their own bag on the way out the door. They made sure they had filled water bottles and all their equipment in a hurry as they rushed down the path to Daniel’s old forest green pickup truck. It wasn’t a long drive to the community centre – Lincoln was a very tiny town after all – and once parked, they headed inside together. Daniel always made sure he was early since he was the coach. Lennox led the way down the single hallway of the community centre, hockey bag over his shoulder (and almost the same size has he was) with his good luck t-shirt he always wore tucked proudly over his small body.

‘Love and luck from my Mommy in heaven’ was printed in black font over the back and although it was originally made for him when he was six, Lennox insisted they made a new one for each season as he grew. It truly was his good luck charm and nothing made Daniel prouder than seeing his son still wanting to wear that shirt to every game.

“Hurry up, Dad!” Lennox called from the doorway of the change rooms, his young voice echoing down the near empty hallway.

The team room seemed to always have a lingering smell of sweat and ice that had accumulated over the last few decades but it smelt like home to the boys. Daniel and Lennox got changed into their jerseys and equipment and Daniel helped him lace up his skates and took off the skate guards from the blades before they were ready to go. By the time they were changed, the other junior boys had started to arrive to get changed and Daniel headed out to the rink with his keys to greet the few parents and set up for practice.

Lincoln Lightning uniforms consisted of white pants and jerseys with dark blue stripes and light blue accents and although the boys had to wear full padding and gear for practice, Daniel usually just wore skates and socks, pants, and his jersey. He helped himself to the supply room with his set of keys and grabbed a few extra sticks and the crate of pucks to bring over to the bench. A few parents always stayed back to watch the practice – mostly the mothers honestly – but Daniel never minded. Marigold always liked to watch her boy play too.

Once it hit 6:30, Daniel draped his whistle around his neck and called the boys onto the ice. Living in Lincoln for their whole lives, the boys were already very good on skates so weekly practices were just for game technique. With the whistle balanced between his lips, Daniel let his skates glide him backwards as he greeted his team,

“We’re practicing slapshots today. Or…shots in general. I know a few of you need a bit more practice with this.”

Daniel turned towards the one net set up at the end of the rink, showing off the dark blue print along the back of his jersey that read Seavey 99, and he pushed off towards the few pucks scattered over the ice. He moved gracefully and pulled his stick back to slap a perfect shot right into the goal net, the sharp sound of the stick hitting the ice echoing through the arena. The boys ‘wow’ed.

“We’re going to get you there, okay?” Daniel said as he skated back over to his team. “Do we all have our mouthguards in?”

There was a chorus of, “Yes, coach!”

“Lemmy see.”

The lineup of boys gave him big grins so he could see the thin curves of soft plastic between their teeth.

“Alright, good. Let’s see what you got. Get in two rows.”

Practice lasted an hour and by 7:30 the boys were huddled up for their last little pep talk before they were ushered back into the change rooms. Daniel stayed back on the ice to get a bit of his own practice in that was up to his skill level and by the time the few parents had left and complimented Daniel on his work, it was just Lennox and Daniel and Jonah’s boy left at the rink.

Daniel changed back into his sweats and t-shirt and packed his bag while the two boys waited on the bleachers and ran up and down the aisles together, playing. Daniel locked up the supply room and turned off the arena lights and herded the boys out into the cool spring evening air.

“So sorry I’m late.”

“No problem.” Daniel said honestly as Jocelyn hurried over from the parking lot. “I was just going to drive him home for you.”

“You’re far too kind.” Jocelyn chuckled, taking her son’s bag for him and then his hand. She looked back up to Daniel, “I called my family friend…she’s going to come down by the end of the week and she’ll stay with us for a few days…longer if you want to hire her of course.”

“Oh.” Daniel almost forgot about the offer for a gardener and he hiked his bag higher over his shoulder, “That’s great. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m sure Jonah will shoot you a text when she’s settled and we can drop by.”

“Yeah, for sure.” Daniel agreed.

They said their good nights and Daniel watched them walk off to their car before looking back down to his son. With messy sweaty post-helmet hair, Lennox looked up at him through the dim light of the parking lot.

“Who’s she talking about?”

Daniel led him back to the truck and tossed their bags in the bed of the truck before helping him into the front seat, “I’m thinking of hiring someone to help around the farm.”

Lennox pondered his father’s statement as he waited for him to get in behind the wheel. When they started off towards home, the young boy answered, “Why?”

“It’s hard to take care of everything just me.” Daniel said.

“You already sold Spot and the sheeps and most of the chickens.” Lennox argued. “And you have me. I can help.”

“But you’re also in school…and you’re seven.”

“Almost eight, Dad.”

“Almost eight.” Daniel corrected himself. “But I need someone to help me take care of Mommy’s flowers.”

There was a silence that fell over the truck as they drove down the dark two laned road out of the main intersection and towards their farm. Lennox turned and looked out the window.

“What do you think?” Daniel asked after a moment.

“I don’t want someone to touch Mommy’s flowers.” Lennox answered softly.

“I know, Spud. I’m not crazy about the idea either…but we’ll lose the garden completely if we don’t have someone tending to it. That’ll be even worse.”

“I guess.” Lennox mumbled.

“I’m just going to meet her later this week and see…she’s a friend of Jocelyn and Jonah’s…she might not be a good fit anyway…I don’t know.”

“How do you know if it’s a good fit?” Lennox asked as they turned into their long driveway and up the dirt drive past the few trees lining the way.

Daniel took a deep breath as their farmhouse came into view, the porch light illuminating a few of the flowers that were starting to bud with the incoming spring, “I don’t know.”

He parked the truck and the boys got out and carried their bags right to the laundry room – a habit Marigold instilled in them to prevent the main house from stinking up. Daniel started the laundry while Lennox went up to bathe, leaving his sweats and his lucky shirt with his father to wash for their next practice. When laundry was started and the cat and dog were fed and Daniel got himself showered free of hockey sweat, the two Seavey boys cuddled up on the living room couch to watch some TV before bed. Lennox had a glass of milk and two cookies like every night and Daniel had his arm around him the whole time, feet kicked up on the coffee table and cat asleep on his lap.

When it was bedtime, Daniel made sure the dog was settled on his bed – with a snap of his fingers and a stern ‘lay down’ – and then he tucked in his boy under his quilt and brushed his damp hair from his face.

“Comfy?” Daniel asked quietly.

Lennox nodded up at him. Daniel leaned down to kiss his forehead and then switched off the bedside lamp.

Through the dark, Lennox spoke softly, “Daddy?”

“Yeah, Spud?”

“I want only Mommy to take care of her flowers.”

Daniel paused a moment, ignoring the pain that clutched his heart as he bent down to kiss his little boy again, “I know. So do I. But we’re going to keep her garden looking nice for her…so when she’s watching down on us, she can see that you and me are very good at keeping a nice house, right?”

“Right.” Lennox sniffled.

“Okay.” Daniel tucked him in snugly. “Sweet dreams. I love you, Spud.”

“Love you, Daddy.”

With his son put to bed, Daniel helped himself to the back porch, lingering by the railing by the light of the outdoor LEDs and overlooked the garden of green that turned into a blossoming overwhelming forest of colour every summer. It had been a little forgotten about the last year with Marigold having just passed so the garden was now in desperate need for some TLC. Daniel sighed and headed back inside to head to bed himself soon, only hoping everything would work out. He hoped Marigold was watching out for him.

 Seasons Change Taglist: @stuffofseaveyy @randomlimelightxxx @jonahlovescoffee @hiya-its-amber @hopinglimelight @midnightpsychic @sbrewer21 @bessonsbxtch @viamiasoncrack @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​ @bessonbae​

Please click the link in my bio to be added to the taglist!

[user-2-electric-boogaloo]

A Comparison of RTD and Steven Moffat: Saving The Day

So for this analysis I’m going to compare when Moffat and RTD save the day well and when they save it poorly. There are a few bits of criteria I need to explain.

 First I will only be including main series, no Torchwood, no spin-offs, and no mini episodes.

Second, I have to define what makes a good and a bad ending (my examples will come from episodes written by neither of them): 

Bad endings include when the sonic saves the day (see The Power Of Three) (there are exceptions, see below), when a character spouts some useless technobabble that doesn’t make any scientific sense/when it doesn’t make logical sense in general, when the Doctor invents/presents a machine/equipment that miraculously stops the baddy and is never referred to again (see Journey To The Centre Of The TARDIS), and any other ending I deem to be bad (see The Vampires of Venice)

Good endings include when the sonice activates a device that has been well established to save the day, when technobabble is used that actually makes some scientific sense, and just generally when the baddy is destroyed in what I deem to be a creative manner that makes sense with all the things that had been set up in that episode (see The Unquiet Dead).

There will also be cases where there isn’t really a day to be saved, however this happens more often with Moffat.

Let us begin (obviously there will be spoilers but the last episode in the list aired nearly 4 years ago so what you doing with your life).

RTD:

Rose: Bad

What even is anti-plastic?! Like seriously, he’s faced the Autons loads of times and has never thought to use it any other time.

The End Of The World: Bad

The Doctor just goes up to the appearance of the repeated meme (ha meme) and rips its arm off. He then just summons Cassandra back by twisting a knob which apparently everyone can do if “you’re very clever like me”.

Aliens Of London/World War Three: Good

Just nuking them all was a bit dodgy but I’ll give it to him purely because it had been set up earlier in the episode and it is a genuine option that could have been taken.

The Long Game: Good

The heating issue was set up within 2 minutes of the episode starting. It’s always good to see the Doctor using his enemies weakness against them.

Boom Town: Good

Only just. It’s technology that hadn’t been showcased ever before and came out of nowhere, but I’m allowing purely because it was setting up The Parting Of The Ways.

Bad Wolf/The Parting Of The Ways: Good

See above. It was set up the story before so it works.

The Christmas Invasion: Bad

This was so close to being good. If RTD had just let the Sycorax leader be honourable then everything would have been fine. Instead he had to let him be dishonourable and then the Doctor through the Satsuma at a random button that for no apparent reason caused a bit of floor to fall away.

New Earth: Bad

It only makes sense if you think about it for less than 10 seconds as just pouring every cure to every disease ever into a giant tub and then spraying said supercure onto them all, then having them hug each other to pass it on. That is suspending my disbelief just a bit too far.

Tooth And Claw: Good

Everything is set up in the episode so I’ll allow it but I fail to see how Prince Albert had the time to ensure that the diamond was cut perfectly.

Love And Monsters: Bad

It’s Love And Monsters. Need I say more?

Army of Ghosts/Doomsday: Good

It was very clearly set up throughout the episode.

The Runaway Bride: Bad

I don’t like how a few bombs can supposedly drain the entire Thames.

Smith And Jones: Good

All the events were well established

Gridlock: Good

It’s a fairly bland way to save the day, just opening the surface to all the drivers. But how else could he have done it?

Utopia/The Sound Of Drums/Last Of The Time Lords: Bad

As much as I like the idea that he tuned himself into the archangel network, he basically turned into Jesus. It is arguably the least convincing ending in modern Doctor Who history.

Voyage Of The Damned: Bad

Why was he the next highest authority? If he’s the highest authority in the universe why didn’t they default to him in the first place? If not then why not default to Midshipman Frame? And if he’s somehow in between them then why? Also Astrid killed herself for no reason when she easily could have jumped out of the forklift.

Partners In Crime: Good

It works in the context of the episode, but I don’t see why they needed two of the necklace things.

Midnight: Good

It’s human nature, you can’t get more well set up than that.

Turn Left: Good

It works logically

The Stolen Earth/Journey’s End: Bad

Donna just spouts a load of technobabble whilst pressing buttons and then the Daleks are magically incapacitated.

The Next Doctor: Bad

Why do the infostamps sever Hartigan’s connection with the Cyberking? As far as I remember it ain’t explained.

Planet Of The Dead (co-written with noted transphobe Gareth Roberts): Good

A good couple scenes are dedicated on getting the anti-gravs set up.

The Waters Of Mars (co-written with Phil Ford): N/A

The day isn’t really saved cause everyone still dies anyway.

The End Of Time: Good

Using a gun to destroy a machine is much better than using the sonic to destroy it.

Summary for RTD:

Out of 24 stories written by him, I deem 10 to be bad endings with 1 abstaining. That’s 41.7% of his episodes (43.5% if we don’t count any abstaining).

Steven Moffat:

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances: Good

You’ll see this a lot with Moffat, he knows how to explain things without stupefying levels of technobabble. “Emailing the upgrade” is a perfect example of this.

The Girl In The Fireplace: Good

Some basic logic, the androids want to repair their ship, but they can’t return to it, they no longer have a function so they shut down.

Blink: Good

Always loved this one, getting the angels to look at each other, however they do look at each other sometimes earlier in the episode.

Silence In The Library/Forest Of The Dead: Bad

This is more of a problem with the setup of the episode, I don’t like that he can negotiate with the Vashta Nerada. I’d rather see them comprehensively beaten, but I guess it’s good for the scare factor that they can’t be escaped from.

The Eleventh Hour: Good

He convinced the best scientists all around the world to set every clock to 0 all in less than an hour. In the Doctor’s own words “Who da man!”

The Beast Below: Good

The crying child motif pretty much ended up saving the day (well for the star whale, life went on as normal for pretty much everyone else).

The Time Of Angels/Flesh And Stone: Good

The artificial gravity had briefly been set up earlier so I’ll allow it.

The Pandorica Opens/The Big Bang: Good

Everything had been set up perfectly, the vortex manipulator, the Pandorica’s survival field thingy, the TARDIS exploding at every moment in history.

A Christmas Carol: Good

Literally the entire episode is the Doctor saving the day by convincing Kazran not to be a cock.

The Impossible Astronaut/Day Of The Moon: Good

The silence’s ability to influence people is their whole thing, so using it against them is a good Doctory thing to do.

A Good Man Goes To War: N/A

The day isn’t really saved, Melody is lost, but River shows up at the end so is all fine? I love the episode it’s just the day isn’t really truly saved (yes I know Amy was rescued but she still lost her baby).

Let’s Kill Hitler: N/A

There isn’t really a day to be saved. They all get out alive but no one is really saved other than maybe River but we all knew she was gonna live anyway.

The Wedding Of River Song: Good

Whilst opinion is divided on the episode, the ending still works. the Tesseracta was established in Let’s Kill Hitler, and the “touch River and time will move again” was established well in advance.

The Doctor, The Widow And The Wardrobe: Bad

I don’t like how the lifeboat travels through the time vortex for no reason but to rescue the dad. It don’t make no sense and I don’t think it’s explained

Asylum Of The Daleks: Good

Oswin had access to the Dalek hive mind so of course she should be able to link into the controls and blow everything up.

The Angels Take Manhattan: Good

Paradoxes really do be something powerful, and they even acknowledge how nobody knows if it’d work so I’ll let it slide.

The Snowmen: Bad

Lots of people cry at Christmas, why are the Latimers anything special?

The Bells of Saint John: Good

The whole episode is about hacking so why shouldn’t the Doctor be able to hack the spoonheads

The Name Of The Doctor: Good

It was the story arc for the season pretty much, so of course it was explained well in advance.

The Day Of The Doctor: Good

Both the storing Gallifrey like a painting and the making everyone forget if they’re Human or Zygon works in the context of the episode.

The Time Of The Doctor: Bad

Since when were the Time Lords so easily negotiated with?

Deep Breath: Good

I like the dilemma over whether the half-face man was pushed or jumped.

Into The Dalek: Good

It’s set up well with this new Doctor’s persona of actually not being too nice of a guy (at first).

Listen: N/A

There isn’t a day to be saved. It’s just 45 minutes of the Doctor testing a hypothesis and I low-key love it.

Time Heist (co-written with Steven Thompson): Good

It works logically so I’ll allow it however it isn’t very well set up at all.

The Caretaker (co-written with noted shithead Gareth Roberts): Good

The machine to tell the Blitzer what to do was set up well in advance so I’ll allow it.

Dark Water/Death In Heaven: Good

The fact that Danny still cares even as a cyberman is set up fairly early on after his transformation.

Last Christmas: Good

He does use the sonic to wake up Clara but he convinces the others to wake up through talking so I’ll allow it.

The Magician’s Apprentice/The Witch’s Familiar: Good

It’s set up well with that little scene from actually inside the sewers.

The Girl Who Died (co-written with Jamie Mathieson): Good

IDK why the vikings would randomly keep electric eels but they’re set up well so I’ll ignore it. 

The Zygon Inversion (co-written with Peter Harness): N/A 

Not including this one as it’s only the second part and I’d argue the ending is most likely Harness’.

Heaven Sent/Hell Bent: N/A

Again there isn’t really a day to be saved, yes Heaven Sent really is amazing but it’s only the first part and, being completely honest, he dies several billion times before finally getting through the wall.

The Husbands Of River Song: N/A

Again there isn’t really a day to be saved here.

The Return Of Doctor Mysterio: Good

He gets Grant to catch the bomb which is good. But he does just sonic the gun out of Dr Sim’s hand and says UNIT is on its way which just sort of wraps it up very quickly.

The Pilot: N/A

No day to be saved here.

Extremis: Good

You could technically call it the sonic saving the day, I consider it to be the Doctor emailing the Doctor to warn him of the future.

The Pyramid At The End Of The World: Good

The fire sanitising everything makes sense and it’s in character for Bill to love the Doctor enough to cure his blindness in return for the world

World Enough And Time/The Doctor Falls: Good

Yes it is the sonic just blowing the cybermen up, but it’s blowing them up with well established pipelines so I’ll allow it (also the story is amazing).

Twice Upon A Time: N/A

No day to be saved here. Just Doctors 1 and 12 getting angsty about regenerating.

Summary for Steven Moffat:

Out of 39 stories written by him, I deemed 4 to be bad with 7 abstaining. That’s 10.3% of his episodes (12.5% if we don’t count any abstaining).

Conclusions:

Moffat was much better at saving the day than RTD

Moffat liked telling stories where the day didn’t actually need to be saved

I’ve spent way too long on this and I need to sleep

If I spent as much time on this as my coursework I’d probably pass

If you’re still reading this, you probably need to get a life

[canonicallysoulmates]

🎃Halloween themed wincest fic rec🎃

This fic rec is, primarily, Halloween themed but you’ll also find some horror as well as just in general autumn themed fics all to, hopefully, get y’all in the spirit of the spooky season!

There’s all sorts of ratings, some weecest, a non-related Hocus Pocus AU, hopefully you’ll find something to your liking among all of these fics.

As always please head all warnings and tags as some of these fics do contain graphic and heavy topics. 

Happy reading, and Happy Halloween my fellow wincest shippers! 🎃

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Halloween 

Eight-Legged Freaks. by anniespinkhouse

Sam/Dean (Wincest) Outsider POV. Takes place early in season 8 but no particular spoilers except for Sam’s hair. Biddy owns a candy store. She also talks to spiders. When FBI agents Sam Smith and Dean Jones investigate a possible haunting, on Halloween evening, the consequence of Dean eating too much candy is disturbing. It’s a race against time for Sam to find a way to return Dean to normal.

The Rocky Horror Sam Show by RockSaltandCherryPie *

Sam goes to a Halloween party and dresses up like Frank N. Furter but ends up looking more like a girl than anything else.

the one that lives behind his heart by Addie_D_123 *

Dean is the spark, Sam is the fire.

The Witch's Dance by brimstonegold and virtualpersonal *

It's either coincidence, or irony, but Sam and Dean find themselves hunting for a witch at The Witch's Dance, a party being given at the local haunted mansion on Halloween. What they find is not the kind of dance they expected.

hell is empty; all the little brothers are here by bellaaanovak

Dean just wants to make the rundown house they’re squatting in look cool for Halloween, but Sam isn’t so excited about strangers in corny costumes knocking on the door for candy. Not when there’s a gang of ghouls wreaking havoc in the neighborhood, anyways.

Greaspaint and Fairy Dust by Syls Darkplace (sylsdarkplace)

It’s Halloween. Sam’s least favorite holiday, and what should be the investigation of a simple salt and burn goes awry when Dean gets caught with his hand in the candy cauldron.

Here is where you’ll stay by belyste

Sam, Dean, and haunted hayride. Halloween!fic. 

A Winchester Halloween by ello_kitty *

 A short story about how the brothers spend the holiday.

Triple XY Or The Hunter, His Bitch And Their Offspring by mpregloveranon

This is the answer to this Halloween!Prompt over at the spnkink_meme. Without reveal to much already I’ll just keep the summary really short. After being cursed Sam is knocked up by his brother. On Halloween he is heavily pregnant with triplets and completely miserable. Dean feels sorry for his baby brother, especially because he pissed the witch off who cursed Sam, and takes good care of him.   Throw in raging hormones, some schmoop, some angst and cute little kids and you’ll get the idea what this fic is about. ;)

Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) by Ignited *

It’s Halloween, and the locals aren’t clued in to the fact that those things going bump in the night are much more than fabric and latex. Sam and Dean learn this fact the hard way as the clock winds down and a town’s about to be overrun by monsters.

The Witches of Salem by Revenant 

There's a legend in Salem, of three sisters accused and hung for the crime of witchcraft, but not before they had killed several of the local children and placed another under a terrible curse. It is said that on Hallowe'en night, when the moon is full, the witches will rise again when a virgin lights the Black Flame Candle.

A little over three hundred years later, Sam Winchester is passing through town trying out his newly awarded independence on what he suspects will be a simple salt-and-burn; why can’t things ever go like he plans?

Why not stay and be caught? by deirdre_c *

Sam wishes to go to The Palace.

Pretty Princess by orphan_account *

Sam is excited to go to a Halloween Party… And then his first heat hits.

Take a Good Look by BewareTheIdes15 *

Sam, Dean, and a haunted house with a mirror maze - sounds like pwp to me!

Kids These Days by Magz (sparklepocalypse) *

Halloween parties are never simple when there are Winchesters involved.

Thy Back to the Forest (and Thy Front to Us) by PetraPan *

For the last three years in Stillwater, Oklahoma, children have disappeared—always five young girls, always on consecutive days, and always during the week of Halloween. By the day the Winchester's pull into town, Sam is enrolled for school, he’s stuck once more on research duty, and Dean already has a date. Sam juggles his new schoolwork, the case, and the ever-growing bitterness at the desire he feels for Dean as best as he can, but at some point he can no longer manage all three. With their father constantly absent and a nasty time constraint, Sam and Dean struggle to figure out who—or what—is taking young girls, just as they struggle to find the balance between brothers and something more.

Sugar Sweet by fallingintodivinity

“What’s all this stuff?” Sam asks warily. He gingerly picks up a bottle of red fluid and squints at it.

“Fake blood!” Dean says cheerfully. “It’s cherry-flavored,” he adds helpfully.

“But why,” Sam says, bewildered.

“Dunno,” Dean says. “It was on sale. Tastes pretty good, actually. Here, lemme show you.”

Halloween by EasyTiga *

Sam and Dean go to a Halloween party for a case and at least one of them can't keep their mind on the mission because of the outfit choice.

Hush Little Baby by hellhoundsprey *

Together with his friends, Sam visits a haunted house. It's Halloween. (Sam is 16, Dean is 20.)

Halloween and High Schoolers by onesillygoose *

I'm realizing how bad my summaries are. Anyway... Sam gets invited to a Halloween party. Dean tags along. Things never go as they should for the Winchesters.

Pumpkin Patch by KissingWinchesters

It's Halloween and Dean decides to steal a giant pumpkin.

VII - One candy left by KissingWinchesters

There’s a piece of melting, sticky caramel pressed into the centre of Sam’s back.

Candy, Pumpkin Spice, And Orgasms by KissingWinchesters

Dean takes Sam to a quaint town on Halloween. Their relationship develops.

He Never Saw the Look by orphan_account

Sam's got a secret. He's in love with his big brother. Little does he know, Dean shares the same dirty little secret.

Pretty Little Thing by Miss_Lv *

Teenager Dean goes to a Halloween party for some fun, he spots a pretty little thing and chases her all evening, flirting, and eventually cornering her. Once his got his hands on her though he realizes she is actually a he, but he's fine with that. Sam snuck out after Dean just because he could, he picked a costume he knew Dean would never recognize him in. After spending the evening being chased by his brother Sam ends up in a semi public place with Dean all over him. Sam's stupid crush on his own brother is not helping matters either.

this way comes by estrella30 *

Written for spn_halloween based on prompt #127: Sam goes to a Halloween party his first year at Stanford and gets dragged off by a guy in a mask who makes out with him. He discovers it's Dean, and the making-out continues with a vengeance.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Horror

Diamond Dogs by kassidy *

Prompt: Supernatural, Sam/Dean, werewolfism - one turns and takes the other down (interpret as you will) for dark_fest LJ comm

A Silent, Creeping Killer by lily rose (annabeth) *

Not long after Dean picks Sam up from Stanford, Sam and Dean go undercover as an engaged couple to investigate the murder of a lesbian hockey player in small-town Connecticut. Along the way, they meet dedicated lovers, frightening ghosts, and the possibility that their ruse might be becoming all too real. How will they handle their changing feelings for each other? Who will protect the lovers and tenants of the Windsor boarding house? And what does all this have to do with the play 'Arsenic and Old Lace'?

darling by allwellandgood 

Dean is dead. Sam has a theory that nothing will ever hurt again.

I Wonder as I Wander by dollylux

Bobby sends Sam and Dean to investigate a strange town.

Let Me Take You Far Away by orphan_account *

Season 10. It's exactly what they need. A vacation. That's how Dean can make everything else go away. Cas was right. That's all they need. A nice, little vacation.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Fall/Autumn themed

Death of the Petals by doctor__idiot

Dean has always thought that fall held some sort of magic.

Where You Are [Is Where I Belong] by non_tiembo_mala

Sam is stuck in class on a beautiful fall day. His mind wanders and it always ends up on Dean.

Hazy Hunter's Moon by GhostlyVoid *

Sam saves a hunter who got attacked by a werewolf, knowing exactly what trouble he's inviting into his home. The hunter, Dean, is predictably less than thrilled owing his life to a witch.

Delicious Autumn by sammichgirl

Dean just wants to give Sam a great day full of some favorite things.

Autumn Leaves by dragonspell *

In the weak light of early morning, the autumn leaves are starting to paint the woods in reds and golds and a burning orange. On some level or another, Dean knows that it’s beautiful; he does. He's just got to find Sam first.

[virtueangel]

limitless.

chapter fourteen.

wc: 2,345. original publish date: october 30, 2020. 

Van Gogh wakes up with the comforter tucked around his shoulders, one arm bent underneath his pillow, his fiery red hair spilling out from his head. He blinks against the white light, rubbing his eyes into focus. He's alone in the bed, the covers on JFK's side folded over to expose his empty spot on the mattress.

"Jack?" Vincent asks. A couple seconds go by with no response. He sits up in bed, adjusting the bandages around his head. They'd come a bit loose in the night, probably from being nestled up so close to JFK. Van Gogh never knew he was such a protective sleeper -- he vaguely remembers clinging onto the taller boy, his hands wrapped around JFK's arm and his fingernails digging into his skin defensively. "Jack, where are you?"

Panic starts to build in Vincent's stomach when he doesn't get an answer. The ripping heat climbs up his neck, stealing his breath away. He rolls out of bed, throwing the covers over until the mattress is just an exposed sheet and some strewn-about pillows.

He hops down the stairs, the hardwood cool against the bottoms of his bare feet. "Jack?"

Van Gogh runs through the sitting room and then the living room, and finally through the archway to the kitchen. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees JFK standing at the pantry.

"Oh, you're awake," John smiles.

Vincent can't help but smile back. "I didn't know you were a morning person."

JFK shrugs. "I go to bed late and wake up early. The sacrifice is that I don't get enough sleep."

Van Gogh crosses the kitchen to stand next to Kennedy, peering into the pantry from around his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

JFK stops, holding a can of tomato sauce in either hand. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm cleaning out the pantry."

"All of that stuff is expired."

"Exactly why I'm cleaning it out."

Vincent turns around and nods toward the kitchen table. The taper candles are gone, but they've been replaced by a large wicker picnic basket. "Are we going for a picnic?"

John grins. "Yes."

Van Gogh turns back to the boy. "Kennedy, don't play."

JFK shakes his head. "I'm not playing!"

"We can't have a picnic in Marshtown. Have you seen the weather?"

Kennedy laughs. "That's why we're leaving Marshtown."

Van Gogh shakes his head, folding his arms across his chest. "No. I told you, I don't want to leave!"

JFK places the cans of tomato sauce back on the shelf in the pantry. He turns to Vincent and puts a hand on either shoulder. He looks into the boy's deep brown eyes, his face relaxing. "We're just going out for the day, Vinny. I promise. We'll be back."

Vincent waits for a second before dropping his arms to his sides and softening his glare. "You promise, huh?"

John nods. "Yes. I promise."

Van Gogh sighs, thinking over the boy's proposal. He looks past JFK to the picnic basket. "You found all that food in here?"

Kennedy nods. "Yeah. It's mostly preservatives, like honey and jam. We'll need to get some bread, though."

Vincent twists his lips pensively. "Well, I guess we'll need to go back out into town for that anyway..."

JFK's face lights up with a grin. "So... yes?"

Van Gogh smiles. "Yes."

***

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Van Gogh asks, an eyebrow raised. He and JFK are sitting side by side in the red convertible, their matching orange and white Clone High letterman jackets zipped up to their chins. The sleeves on Van Gogh's are too long, which he's grateful for right now because he can ball his hands up in the extra fabric. His fingertips are always freezing. No one has ever been able to explain why.

"Yes! I have a GPS on my phone," JFK reassures his boyfriend.

Vincent stares out the windshield. The fog has lifted now that they're out of Marshtown. The roads are made of soft black asphalt, and there are lively plants sprouting out of vibrantly green grass on either side of the street. "I thought we weren't going to use GPS for this trip."

"Yeah, but that was back when we didn't have a plan. We have one now. We're going to a grocery store, on purpose. But I won't use my phone to get us to the picnic location."

"You've already got one picked out?"

JFK laughs. "No. You overestimate my ability to plan."

Van Gogh laughs in return. "How silly of me."

Kennedy pulls into the parking lot of a Safeway before stopping the car and unbuckling.

"Wait," Vincent says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. The screen protector is surprisingly intact. "I made us a list."

Van Gogh opens his notes app and scrolls through it before landing his thumb on the grocery list. JFK peers over his shoulder, trying to read what the boy scrolled past, but Van Gogh snatches his phone away and turns his body so JFK can't see his screen. He clears his throat dramatically before reading out the list.

"One: bread. Two: orange juice. Three:-"

"Are you going to number each item?"

Vincent gives the boy a blank stare and continues. "Three: cream cheese. Four: bagels. Five:-"

"How long is your list?"

Van Gogh shushes the boy. "It'd be a lot shorter if you stopped interrupting."

Kennedy takes the phone out of Van Gogh's hand and begins scrolling through the list himself. Vincent reaches for the phone, but JFK holds him back with an arm as he reads. "Yeah, okay, this is fine. Twenty items shouldn't take us long if we split up."

Vincent's face falls. "I thought this was quality boyfriend time! Especially since you left me alone in bed this morning."

"You left me alone in bed last night! With your sneaking to the kitchen at three in the morning."

Van Gogh sighs. "Fine, then we'll call it even."

"You wanna stick together?" JFK asks, handing the phone back to Vincent.

Vincent grins. "Yes please."

Kennedy leans across the centre console to kiss the boy's forehead. "Whatever you want, Minivan."

"I still hate that nickname."

"But you don't hate me."

Van Gogh shrugs. "Maybe just a little bit," he says with a smile.

JFK pinches the boy's cheek. "That will go away, darling."

Vincent swats his hand away. "You're such a flirt!"

Kennedy grins. "I thought that was one of your reservations about me."

Van Gogh shrugs, busying himself by unbuckling his seatbelt. "Yeah, well. Evidently, it's also what sparked my interest in you."

JFK and Van Gogh get out of the car, slamming their doors behind them in unison. They walk up to the Safeway doors side by side, Vincent's hand fumbling for John's. He interlaces their fingers and Vincent smiles, previously feeling unsure about public displays of affection, especially as a gay couple. JFK's hand is warm against his, and his palm is rough, but in a comforting way. He's something tangible, something Van Gogh can hold to feel grounded.

"I'm really lucky, I think," Van Gogh says without realising he'd spoken aloud.

JFK smiles, blushing the slightest bit. "I think I'm the lucky one, Minivan."

The boys step into the grocery store, dropping hands awkwardly, overwhelmed by all the people inside. They've only been gone from Exclamation! for three days, but that's still a long time to be with only each other. Time feels skewed in Marshtown as well -- Van Gogh could swear they've been living there for a whole month already.

"Maybe we should split up. We'll get out of here a lot faster," Van Gogh suggests.

"So... you take the first ten items on the list, I'll take the last ten?" Kennedy suggests.

"Yeah... I'll send you the list so you don't have to memorise it." Van Gogh looks down at his phone, quickly sharing the note with the boy. A second later, JFK's phone chimes.

"I got it, thanks," he smiles before starting to walk away.

"Wait!" Van Gogh calls out. JFK freezes. "We should establish a meeting place."

John looks around the store, scrunching his nose up in thought. He points to the freezer aisle, right before the self-checkout counters. "How about right over there?"

Vincent follows the boy's finger. "Okay. See you in a couple minutes."

"See you in a couple minutes," JFK agrees.

***

Van Gogh and JFK sit on the grassy banks of a stream, the sun shining down on them through the trees. They've managed to find their own pocket in a forest, full of lavishly green grass and spritely flowers. They don't know where they are, but it must be far from Marshtown; April isn't winter here.

Van Gogh took the liberty of adding a few things to the shopping list, knowing JFK probably wouldn't have thought of them on his own. Now, Vincent spreads out a blue-and-white checkered picnic blanket for them to sit on. He crosses his legs and unties his shoes.

"No muddy feet on the cloth," he says simply to JFK when the boy gives him a look. Kennedy shrugs and unties his sneakers after sitting down, his sock feet clean against the blanket.

"We sure like the middle of nowhere, huh?" John says, spreading some strawberry jam on his bagel. It won't be as good toasted, but there aren't exactly any outlets around to plug a toaster into.

Van Gogh looks up from his own bagel, only half of it slathered in cream cheese. "We're making it the middle of somewhere."

"I don't know what that means."

Vincent smiles. "It means it's our world," he says, JFK's words warm on his tongue.

"What was it you said?" John says, setting his bagel down on a napkin and pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Plastic cups and napkins are also two of the items Van Gogh decided to pick off the shelves at the last minute. "'It's our rollercoaster, and we get to build the track?'"

Van Gogh nods, taking a bite of his bagel. "Mhm," he dabs at some cream cheese smeared across his lips with a napkin. "That's exactly what I said."

"I liked it. You should be an author. I'm sure thirteen-year-old girls on the internet would eat that shit up."

Vincent rolls his eyes. "I'd like to think that if I were to ever become an author, my target audience wouldn't be thirteen-year-old girls on the internet."

JFK laughs. "I'm just playing. But I really do think you could make it."

The shorter boy shrugs, avoiding eye contact by looking down at his food. "Can I have some orange juice?"

John hands the boy a plastic cup and the bottle of orange juice. He'd made sure to get the pulp-free kind, because he knows Van Gogh won't drink it otherwise.

The forest warms up quickly under the sun, and pretty soon, both boys have to take off their letterman jackets. Vincent had almost forgotten what JFK looks like in just his striped red sweater and khakis, his threadbare white tube socks disappearing into the cuffs of his pants. Kennedy had almost forgotten what Van Gogh looks like so simply, in his yellow shirt and jeans. He's wearing his navy blue windbreaker still. It's very rarely warm enough for him to take it off. The boys mostly eat in contented silence, admiring the way the rays of sun drip through the tree branches and the quiet dribbling of the creek behind them. When Vincent finishes his bagel, he wipes his mouth with a napkin and rests back on his hands, his arms extended as he looks up at the trees. JFK stops eating just to admire the boy, to smile at the way his hair falls back when his head is tilted upwards, to bask in the uncomplicated presence of him. Kennedy blows a strand of hair out of his eyes, and Vincent tilts his head forward slowly, almost as if he's returning to reality from a far-away dimension.

"Vincent," JFK breaks the silence.

"Hm?"

"I think you're pretty."

Vincent blushes and looks away. His stomach churns, and he wonders how he could possibly still feel nervous around JFK even now that they're boyfriends.

"I think you're pretty too, JFK."

"Minivan," John smiles.

Van Gogh inhales deeply, trying to steady his breath and calm his heart rate. "Johnny Boy."

"You know what's really special about calling someone your boyfriend?" He asks, leaning forward onto his hands and knees and crawling across the picnic blanket to Vincent.

"What's really special about calling someone your boyfriend?"

JFK waits until he's sitting down next to Vincent to speak again. He wraps his arms around the boy's chest from behind, pulling him in. The smaller boy positions himself between Kennedy's legs and presses his head back, listening to the boy's heartbeat. He closes his eyes, drowning himself in John's familiar scent.

"This," Kennedy whispers, his eyes closed as well. He rests his head atop the boy's, giving his hair a kiss.

"What's it like?" Vincent asks after a couple seconds, his eyes still closed. The sun burns kaleidoscopes into his cheeks, warm against his skin. "Being in love."

John takes a deep breath. "Like this."

"Does that mean...?"

"Shh..." JFK gives the boy another kiss on the head. "Don't ruin it."

"John?" Vincent asks after another second, opening his eyes now.

"Hm?"

He wriggles out of the boy's arms and turns around, sitting so they're facing each other. He slips his arms out of his navy blue windbreaker. He forces himself to look up at Kennedy now, who pulls his sweater off over his head. They sit in their t-shirts, one a soft yellow and the other a plain white, gazing at each other nervously. Vincent moves forward to kiss JFK first, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

"What is this like?" Van Gogh asks, kissing the boy harder than he ever has before.

JFK returns the kiss and lays on his back, pulling the boy down with him.

[byunsboyz]

Jamais Vu - Part One

Exo Fanfiction

Baekhyun x Female Reader

Warnings: some light swears.

Genre: Fluff/Angst?

W/C: 2560

Part Two Part Three

_____________________________________________________________

Everybody has that ‘what if’. The one who got away....not quite regret, but thoughts that would drift by late at night when insomnia has set in and you’re deep into your latest existential crisis.

What if things had been different? What if you had said what had been on the tip of your tongue that day?

Byun Baekhyun was your what if. 

He had been your best friend in college and the only person you had truly loved.

You had no reason to run into Byun Baekhyun. You didn’t share classes. You an Accounting major and him Architecture. 

You didn’t run in the same social circles, he was part of a frat house and you opted to remain in dorms with your small group of friends. 

But what had brought you together was music, meeting in your second year while working at the campus radio station.

You had applied for the role of Production Director on a whim, looking for a hobby outside of classes and studying and also benefited from the extra credit of managing the finances of the small college club. 

The first time you met you were positive you’d never understand him. After all, you were complete opposites. He was loud and outgoing; always the centre of jokes and a far cry the quiet loner you were perceived to be. 

But from the first show you ran with him, he has surprised you. Baekhyun was the On-Air Presenter for the Sunday night Jazz & Blues segment and as soon as the light would turn red he’d take on a completely different persona.

His voice would become soft and melodic as he’d whisper sweet nothings into the microphone about the classics of Miles Davies and Frank Sinatra. 

You’d often be on the same late-night shift together; downing coffee after coffee, discussing your favourite artists and organising records until the early hours.

He wasn’t exhausting like the rest of your extroverted friends, his presence giving you a warm sense of comfort. 

Without noticing you became joined at the hip for the rest of your college days. 

Not to the point that you were a regular at his crazy frat parties but you’d hang out at the radio station, would marathon movie after movie at each other’s dorms on the weekends and crammed for all your major test’s together. 

You hadn’t even realised you were in love with him until you’d just graduated, you even had the crazy idea to confess.

Then the news broke that he was moving to a different country.

He had been in two minds on whether to go. You’d always talked about living and working in the same city and he’d been concerned about you being alone and him going back on his promise.

Honestly. Who achieves their dream job at a globally famous architecture firm and worries about their dumb friend during the happiest moment of their life?!

You remembered that day vividly.

‘“Of course you should go! It’s your dream, Baek” you forced the enthusiasm into your voice.

Inside, you could feel your heart tearing at the seams. You weren’t selfish enough to show him just how much you would miss him, as much as you had wanted to.

He was always too considerate of your feelings. 

This wasn’t some Rom-Com TV show, where Baekhyun would suddenly declare he couldn’t live without you. He wasn’t like Rachel choosing not to get on the plan for Ross.

You’d cried so hard the night he’d left. Almost texting the words you’d be aching to tell him for the last three years. 

‘I am in love with you’. 

But the alcohol had knocked you out before you could hit send.

He’d promised to keep in touch but over the years you drifted. As life and work became more and more hectic it devolved from video chatting on the weekends, to texting occasionally. 

Fading into receiving a generic happy birthday post on social media and then nothing at all.

You’d pushed him to the back of your mind as you told yourself over and over that this is what happens as you get older. 

And with that ten years had passed.

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

You wake with a start. Back aching from where you’d fallen asleep in an awkward position while watching a random ASMR video the night prior.

*Clatter*  

Your sleep-filled eyes search the room, trying to locate the source of the noise. 

*Thud Thud Thud*

It appears to be coming through the wall behind your headboard.

Could someone be moving into the apartment next door? It’s been entirely empty the whole time you’ve been living here, about seven months now.

You've enjoyed the quiet solace of not having to share the walls with another person. Especially being one of the only two apartments on the upper floor, it was one of the reasons you love your apartment.

It’s also located near the subway and tucked far back enough on the outskirts of the city that it’s almost peaceful. There’s also a small cafe bar and a couple of small stores that remind you of the town where you grew up.

*Bang*

You groan again at the loud noises as you stretch your arms over your head and wonder about the people moving in next door.

Maybe a couple? Or a young family. It could even be a cute guy. You snort at the thought. Yeah right. What kind of a psycho moves into an apartment in the early morning anyway?!

You reach under your pillow for your phone to check the time. 8:30 am! SHIT. You overslept and if you don’t leave your apartment in the next ten minutes you’ll miss your train to work!

With no time for a shower, you rush to your bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth.

As you drag a brush through your hair and pull it up into a simple, neat ponytail you start forming a contingency plan…

‘Skip the usual to-go coffee at Dunkin’ and settle for the instant stuff at work’ you think to yourself, ‘As soon as I get to work, throw on some BB cream and mascara with the time I’ll gain abandoning my daily vanilla latte with coconut milk…’.

You sniff sadly at the thought as you step into one of your tailored dresses, fumbling with the awkward zipper in the back.

Within 10 minutes you’re flying out the door and straight into the elevator. Using the short amount of time to button up your sweater and glance through your bag to check that you’ve got everything you’ll need for the day.

You’re in your own thoughts as you stride towards the lobby doors, and almost walk straight into your building manager.

“Oh! Good morning, Mr Sato!” you gasp in surprise.

“Good morning!” he smiles obliviously, not realising that you almost knocked him flying. You move to step around him as he continues. “There’s a package of yours with Ralph” (the doorman) “and I also wanted to let you know about a new tenant moving into the place next to yours...”

“Uh-huh,  of course, that’s great!” You cut him off, waving your hands apologetically “I am so sorry. Please excuse me, I’m late for work!” you call out behind you as you make a mad dash out of the building to the subway station.

You make your train by the skin of your teeth, panting from the final sprint from the ticket gate to the platform. Feeling glad you skipped the makeup as you would have surely sweat a good portion of it off by now.

You currently work for a large accountancy firm Kim & Partners. You could have worked within a finance department of any company as most qualified accountants tend to do but you love the challenges and variety of working with different industries and clients every day.

You manage a small team of four and specialise in bookkeeping for small to medium enterprise, one of the smaller departments in the company but you have a pretty large client base and enjoy the satisfaction of helping others and providing a clear and efficient service.

“We are transferring you to manage corporate accounts,” your boss Mr Kim announces in the morning management meeting. You feel like someones just pulled a step from beneath your footing.

You were aware that your manager Mr Choi had wanted to transfer you out to provide more specialised management accountancy for larger corporate clients but so far you’d been convincing enough from the commission and reputation you’ve built for Kim & Partners to be able to continue as you were.

“Uh, thank you for the opportunity, Mr Kim, I-” you begin shakily, looking for the words or a reason to decline the transfer.

“Fantastic! You’ll handover to Jaehyun for the rest of today and you’ll start in corporate accounting tomorrow!” your boss claps his hands together enthusiastically and with that you chicken out of any further protest and nod your head.

Jaehyun is your second in command and honestly, he really deserves this promotion. You couldn’t think of someone more diligent and detail-oriented.

The rest of your day is uneventful. The handover goes incredibly smoothly despite a very surprised Jaehyun but the more things are explained, the more you realise that this progression will be good for everyone.

You’ll still oversee Jaehyun and his team but allow him more room to make decisions and develop while you work on the larger corporate accounts that keep your company in business.

There was even a hint at the opportunity to become a junior partner, which by your calculations would make you one of the youngest in the company.

You leave work feeling excited, passing up on celebratory drinks with your (old) team so that they can have more fun without their boss present.

“COME ONNNN” Hani, your junior accounts clerk had whined when you announced that you wouldn't be joining “You’re not a regular boss, you’re a COOL boss!”.

You appreciate the sentiment but everyone likes to complain about work and management when they drink and you wouldn't like to take that away from them.

You sit on the train heading back to your apartment feeling optimistic, texting your best friend Aria about the day and making plans for your own celebratory drinks.

You’re walking through the lobby of your apartment building, heading towards Ralph’s desk to collect the package Mr Sato mentioned this morning. Probably the new nutribullet you’d ordered while drunk Amazon shopping a couple of weeks back.

Normally you’d cancel the delivery but drunk you was really onto something this time. You giggle at a dumb vine quote Aria sends you and as you finish typing up your response-

 THWACK! You hit a wall, falling ungracefully backwards onto your butt.

You grunt as the air gets knocked out of you when you make contact with rough carpet of the lobby.

“Seriously!” another voice snaps you back to reality as you realise you didn’t walk into a wall but another person.

 A now very annoyed person, carrying what you assume was their groceries as you glance over at the produce and cans rolling around on the floor between you.

“I- oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” you stammer as you scramble to your knees and start frantically picking up some of the items in front of you. A can of beans, a bag of pasta and a lone orange trying to make its escape. 

“I wasn’t even looking, I promise I’ll pay for anything dama-”, You begin as you look up, expecting to see Mr Sato or one of the other tenants of the building.

The rest of your sentence dies in the back of your throat.

“Baekhyun?...”

His name leaves your lips as a whisper, heart thumping against your chest as you almost drop the items in your hands.

He’s not looking in your direction, you hear him grumble something under his breath that you can’t quite make out as he scoops the remainder of his groceries into a battered paper bag.

Is it really him? Did you hit your head and you’re actually unconscious and hallucinating about a guy you used to know and haven’t seen in ten years?

It sure looks like him. A few extra lines crease his forehead, his hair is a darker shade of chocolate than you remember with a few flecks of silver glinting at the centre of his parting.

You glance to his left hand searching for the mole that sits beneath his thumbnail but it’s not there. Maybe it was on his right hand?

He finally looks up as if finally registering that you’re kneeling on the floor next to him, his lips part slightly in surprise as he looks you over. A tiny mole sits just above the corner of his upper lip. It really is him!

Before your mind has time to catch up you’re throwing your arms around him, allowing your excitement to overtake all of your other senses. You feel him instantly tense up.

“H-hey!” he shouts, pushing you off him abruptly. “What the hell are you doing!”

You shoot to your feet, shaken by the sharpness of his tone you take a step back to create some space. Your throat feels dry all of a sudden. His eyes look you over but there’s no familiarity in them, they’re so cold you almost shiver.

He takes a step towards you, “How do you know my name?” his tone sharp and accusing, “Are you some kind of stalker?”.

Your cheeks start to burn as the realisation set’s in that Baekhyun has no idea who you are. You struggle to swallow the lump forming in your throat as you search for a response. Words seem to fail you right now.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” you hear the worried voice of Mr Sato, by the time you remember to blink he’s already standing between the two of you. You look up at him, dumbstruck as you fight back the sharp prickles in the corner of your eyes.

He looks back and forth between you and Baekhyun, trying to piece together what has taken place. You realise you’re still holding Baekhyun’s groceries, practically hugging the bag of pasta to your chest and your cheeks burn even hotter. 

You hear your name spoken again but it’s not Mr Sato’s voice this time, and you don’t have the nerve to look at Baekhyun again.

So you do the only thing you can think of and thrust the items you're holding at Mr Sato. Run as fast as you can to the stairwell, and find the nearest hole to jump into, aka your apartment.

Your knees ache as you force yourself up each flight. You can’t even remember the last time you used the stairwell and when you finally reach the threshold of your apartment you collapse against the door.

What on earth were you thinking?

What gave you the right to assume anyone would recognise you after ten years?

What was he even doing here? As that final thought crosses your mind someone knocks at your door.

You jump at the abrupt noise, chest still tight from the anxiety (or the running). But there’s no way you’re answering the door.

Your legs still feel like jelly and you really fear that Mr Sato has come to scold you or worse Baekhyun has followed you.

But he wouldn’t know which apartment you lived in. Would he?

You pull yourself to your feet and glance through the peephole.

You watch as Baekhyun turns away from your front door and disappears towards the next apartment.

No way.

*Slam*

Shit.

[1-1snailxd-art]

Sanders Sides oneshot fic - Magic Beans

Type: Magic au (kinda...like my own magic universe)

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remy/Sleep, Virgil (Patton and Roman are mentioned)

Relationships: I’m tagging losleep put it’s mostly platonic cause they’re roommates (oh my god they were roommates) and analogical because that’s the bit, implied royality.

Warnings: Remy swears...he said b**ch.

Words: 2032

Summary: Remy steps in when his sleep deprived roommate wants to quit magic school before even attempting to learn magic. A visit to his favourite coffee shop seems like the best way to snap Logan out of the funk he’s in.

Authors note: Look, I was sad, I watched @blinksinbewilderment stream on instagram and they mentioned a losleep/analogical magic coffee shop au (no angst) and I tried something. 

General Taglist (let me know if you want on or off): @thequeensphinx @ollyollyoxinfree @celeste-tyrrell @pumpkinminette

Bonus: @aowrot did some art of Remy (click to see). I approve of his style and floating hat. Honoured to have fanart done for this little tale. 

———————————————

“Girl, you know there is a bed right there for a reason.”

Logan sat up stiffly when the sound of Remy’s voice filled his tired ears, along with the crinkling of paper as he moved.

“I am…aware.” He said, squinting up at the man highlighted by his desk lamp. “I did not intend to sleep here.”

“Well, you did, and if that schedule is correct, you have class in an hour.”

Normally that comment would have caused Logan to bolt upright, but instead he slammed his head against the desk and groaned in frustration. If Remy’s statement on time was correct, he’d probably managed a maximum of 2 hours of uncomfortable sleep and was nowhere near ready to give his presentation on wand construction.

“You learning through osmosis now?”

“If it were possible, I would.” Logan mumbled into the paper before sitting up to rub his forehead. “I shouldn’t even bother. This whole thing is pointless. I’m not going to get into the magic course anyway, so I might as well give up and go to sleep.”

“Right, bitch, we’re out!”

Logan gasped and fumbled over his words as Remy suddenly pulled his chair back and pulled him up by his arm.

“Wha-where are we going?”

“We need a magic elixir to find my annoying, magic obsessed, roommate because that ain’t you right now.”

“That is ridiculous.” Logan huffed, unable to pull out of their friends firm grip. “Even if some personality changing elixir did exist, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

“True, but you don’t gotta bring it up.”

Remy was kind enough to at least grab Logan’s satchel as they left their tiny dwelling and headed into the town centre; leading the conversation so Logan could walk in reasonable silence. When the pair had first moved in together, they had hardly interacted beyond cleaning and rent day. Remy was either working or out at someone’s party until the early hours, while Logan filled his daily schedule with work, class and study. At one point, Remy questioned if the man ever slept or understood the meaning of free time. However, over the past month, Remy noticed a shift in Logan’s behaviour that he couldn’t ignore. Dishes were left piled into the sink more often, curse words penetrated the thin walls at all hours and he found an empty jam jar left on the count with a spoon in it. The jam was the final straw for Remy because it was too weird to be considered normal for his formally perfect roommate.

 “May I ask where exactly we are going?”

The further they walked into the busy centre, the more Logan wanted to return to his room and forget the real world existed.

“I told you. To get an elixir.”

“That was a joke, so what is the truth.”

A sideways glance with a raised eyebrow was the only response Logan received as Remy took his hand and quicken their pace down the street. Rounding the corner Logan groaned as he saw the painted sign for ‘The Magic Beans’ and understood what his black jacket clad mate had meant by elixir.

“Coffee? Seriously?”

“Serious as a heart attack, babes.” Remy said, holding the door open for Logan to walk inside. “Trust me, this will perk you right up.”

“You’ve been partying with Patton again haven’t you?”

“I will not apologise for appreciating Roman’s poppin’ parties with that puffball dancing around. That kid has more energy than 100 shots of espresso.”

Shuffling awkwardly around the couch in the stores centre, Logan watched as empty cups levitated their way into the kitchen and laughter echoed from full tables and booths. Jealousy gripped his gut as he watched how effortless some of the workers made magic seem. Clearly, they had been blessed with strong magic in their families, unlike him. Remy may have been perfectly content with a magic-less existence, but Logan wasn’t. He wanted nothing more than to point his finger at a book to guide it to him, or even just be able to use a wand. Anything that would make him more than what he was.

“This way bookworm,” Remy guided Logan to a secluded booth in the far corner of the store and ushered him into the seat. “Let me introduce you to my magic elixir of life.”

“I don’t understand the allure of a beverage brewed from bitter tasting beans.”

“You’ll understand soon enough,” Remy beamed, hiding his face behind a menu.

“Doubtful. I’ve tasted coffee before and it was far from an enjoyable experience.”

“Haven’t tried magic beans then, have you?”

Suddenly Logan understood why Remy was hiding his face, because he was sure he was trying to compose himself right now. The voice belonged to a man that made Logan’s brain come to a sudden halt; eyes lined black, purple highlights peeked through black hair, and glossed lips were pulled into a half smile that Logan couldn’t take his eyes off.

“He hasn’t.” Remy cooed, lowering the menu and leaning back now he could maintain a cool expression. “Logan is a hard one to coax away from study hall and your parents don’t allow take away.”

The worker chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, giving Logan a peek of his hip as the black uniform lifted behind his apron.

“Yeah, they are very protective of our recipes. Better safe than sorry though. You just want the usual, Rem?”

“Cheers, babes. You know how I like it.”

“Sure thing. And what can I get - ah, Logan, was it?”

Worry danced across the server’s eyes when he was met with only a stare in response. Upon releasing he had been asked a question, Logan cleared his throat and forced his mind to function enough to grab a menu without showing just how shaky his hands were.

“Ah-um-yes. Logan is, well, me.” Cheeks burning, Logan cursed his sleep deprived brain for being unable to form coherent sentences and tried to read the jumble of letters in front of him. “I’ll have a���um…”

With a sigh of defeat, Logan dropped the menu on the table and hopped he didn’t look too ridiculous smiling up at the other man.

“I don’t know what to have. I’m sorry. This isn’t really my…”

“Cup of tea?” He offered, seeming to immediately regret the comment as Logan blinked back.

“…ironically, I’m not a tea fan either, um…my apologies, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, sorry. Virgil.” Quickly scrapping his hand down his pants to dry it, Logan shook the hand Virgil had extended. “So, you’re a real newbie to this scene then. How have you survived studying?”

“He isn’t surviving, which is why I’ve brought him here.” Remy offered before he had to watch another awkward pause.

“Right.” Virgil let out an awkward chuckle and ran a hand through his fringe as he thought out loud. “So, coffee noob, not a tea fan, study-aholic. Do you prefer sweet or savoury flavours?”

“Oh, Logan is very salty.” Logan’s head snapped round and glared at his friend opposite him. “Girl, that look only cements my point. What do you recommend, Virge?”

“I think I’ve got an idea. I’ll be back.”

“Take your time,” Logan called after him as he watched Virgil walk back towards the counter.

 “You’re so gay-ow!”

Logan kicked Remy under the table and spoke in a hushed tone.

“What the heck was that?”

“You’re smitten, kitten, that’s what.” Remy said, rubbing his shin under the table. “Thank Mama Remy when you get his number.”

“Falsehood. I’m going to kill Mama Remy while he sleeps.”

“Good luck with that, you’ll be too preoccupied to even think about me. So, what’s the most powerful wand core?”

“Phoenix feather strands with northern tree sap.” Logan replied without thought; resting his elbow on the table so he could comfortably massage his left temple. “What exactly is your plan here?”

“To find the nerd that wants to put magic into the Sanders name despite what his parents say. Should I buy a wand or make my own?”

“I seriously doubt I will ever be able to learn magic at this rate… and if you’re born with magic, and the wand is just for show, buy it; but you’ll need to make it if you’re not.”

“I think you’re gonna blow them away when you pass this course and get to make a wand. I can see you now;” pushing his glasses up onto his head, Remy gestured an invisible wand out to the side. “Wielding a wand crafted from a fallen elm.”

“Based on previous encounters, I’d say that is more likely Roman’s style. Given my birth is in the later part of the year, and my reduced sight, oak would be a much better fit.” Yawning, Logan fiddled with the corner of the menu until he froze at Remy’s laugh. “What?”

“Girl, you are going to ace that test.”

“Falsehood.” He said with more force than earlier. “With an infinitesimal amount of sleep and limited knowledge, it will be impossible for me to achieve a passing grade.”

Leaning onto folded arms, Remy locked eyes with his friend and smiled. “You just answered 3 key wand questions without batting an eye. I think you’ll be fine.”

Logan raised a pointed finger to rebut the statement, before realising what Remy had done.

“You are one bad elixir away from an evil genius.”

“I was born without magic because I would have been too much for this world to handle.”

“I will concede to you this time, but even if I do go to school, I will still need to stay awake for the test and practical examination. I don’t think I can function for another 3hours.”

“I’ve got you covered,” Virgil beamed, placing a tall dark mug in front of Remy and holding another out for Logan. “Chilled to help you wake up. Mild bean blend with a salted caramel mix; extra salt to balance out the sweet. All the buzz of Remy’s coffee, without the bitter bite and some cream on top just for show.”

“That hasn’t been on the menu,” Remy grumbled as he reviewed it one more time just in case he’d missed a new addition.

“I know.” Logan noticed Virgil shift nervously on his feet after placing the beverage down before him. “Thought I would make something special for the beginner.”

“You never did that for me!”

“Don’t act so offended. You were already a veteran drinker when you first came here.”

Tuning out the other voices, Logan glanced sadly between the clock on the wall and the personalised drink in front of him. He considered what Remy had just demonstrated and made a decision before speaking again.

“Thank you, Virgil, but unfortunately I can’t stay.” Two sets of eyes snapped to Logan as he carefully shuffled out of the booth. “Remy believes I can pass this test, but if I don’t leave now, I might not be able to even take it in the first place. I’m sorry.”

A smile crept back onto Remy’s face as Virgil grabbed Logan’s hand when he turned to leave.

“Wait…you said you needed something to help get you through the exam, though.”

“I-I-I’ll just have to…push through it I guess.”

“No. Here.” Grabbing the cup from the table, Virgil held it out for the other. “Take it with you.”

“But… you don’t do take away, here. What about your family recipes?”

“Yeah, well…this is my recipe a-a-and I want you to take it.” Cautiously, Logan took the cup and Virgil released his other hand. “Besides, when you return the cup…I’ll get to see you again.”

Logan almost let the beverage slip through his fingers in shock but nodded and hurried out of the store. Remy chuckled before carefully taking a sip of his own drink.

“The only thing that would have made that gayer, would have been if Pat and Roman were here sharing a rainbow unicorn.”

“You planned that whole thing, didn’t you?” Virgil breathed, not taking his eyes away from when he last saw Logan.

“Not entirely,” he sighed and dug into his back pocket. “I thought for sure the bitch would have paid.”

———————————————

What else have I done?

Writing masterlist / master post thingy

Check out my main blog @snail-giggles for random fandom reblogs and stuff

[swanslieutenant]

an extravagance of candy hearts (1/1)

Happy Valentine’s Day! My turn for posting for the @csrolereversal​, with the art by @kmomof4​. Hope you all enjoy this short fic for Valentine’s Day, set in the six weeks of peace during S4. 

Read on AO3

Summary: As Killian's first Valentine's Day in Storybrooke approaches, Ruby and Henry take it upon themselves to make sure that both he and Emma have an incredible, extravagant time they won't forget.

Emma and Killian walk hand in hand down the main street of Storybrooke, headed towards Granny’s diner. It’s a quiet Saturday in early February; in fact, it’s been peaceful since Elsa and Anna returned to their land and since Gold was banished from Storybrooke. The absence of the Dark One seems to have lifted a cloud over the small town, freeing it from the darkness lurking in every corner and in the now shuttered pawn shop.

While Emma has returned to her day-to-day activities as sheriff, Killian spends most of his time trying to help Belle in figuring out a way to rescue the fairies from the Sorcerer’s Hat. It’s frustrating and fruitless work, and so when Emma had dropped in to take him to Granny’s for lunch, he was only too happy to oblige.

Just outside of Granny’s, Leroy and one of the other former dwarves (whose name escapes Killian’s mind) are in the midst of a shouting match.

Emma sighs as they approach, shaking her head in irritation. “Best go and see what that is about,” she mutters, before stepping on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “See you in a minute. Order me a grilled cheese, yeah?”

He nods, and steps away while Emma moves to confront the arguing duo. Inside, it’s the end of the lunch rush, most of the tables littered with used plates and cups instead of patrons. Instead of cleaning up the tables, however, Ruby is perched precariously on a tilted chair at one of the front windows. A string of scarlet cartoon hearts dangles from one edge of the window as she leans over to pin it up on the other side. From the centre heart hangs a strange looking blonde baby on a string, a bow and heart-tipped arrow clenched in its hammy fists.

“What the devil is that?” Killian blurts out, unable to stop himself at the sight the monstrosity.

“It’s a cupid,” Ruby replies, pressing the string firmly into place with a pin. She hops down to admire her work, and chuckles at Killian’s expression. “It’s for Valentine’s Day.”

She says it as if it’s obvious, but as with many of the parts of Storybrooke – cellphones, cars, the internet – the words are empty to him. “What’s Valentine’s Day?”

He glances around the rest of the diner, and realizes that it’s not only the front window decorated with the strange little cupids. Ruby has been busy – strings of hearts adorn the bar’s overhang, large heart decorations and cupid babies are splattered on the windows leading to the kitchen, the white napkins at each table have been swapped for scarlet, and the tables are covered with plastic tablecloths instead of their bare tops. Even the usual plain pastries have been replaced by ones with pink icing and colourful sprinkles.

“It’s a day for lovers,” Ruby explains, and at that Killian’s interest is piqued.  A day for lovers, is it?

“Indeed?” he says slowly, his tone of voice making Ruby laugh and swat at him with a cleaning rag as she steps behind the counter.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. There’s more to it than that; it’s all about love and romance and sweetheart candy and mushy valentines’ cards. You give your partner something cute and romantic like chocolates or a piece of jewellery that they’d like, and then go for dinner or do something fun that you both like. It’s every February 14th.”

“Hmm,” Killian replies, thoughtfully. He glances out the window, where he can see Emma’s cascading blonde curls down her back, still dealing with the arguing dwarves. Is she going to be expecting something from him on this day?

“Is that something… everyone does in this realm?”

“Oh yes,” Ruby says earnestly, her eyes sparkling. “If you’ve got a significant other, it’s a must. It’s like New Year’s or Halloween or July 4th, something that everyone celebrates.”

Killian doesn’t know what those other things are either, but he nods. He’s trying to adapt to this world the best he can … if this is something they always do, then he’ll participate too.

“Right. Okay. What day is it again?”

“It’s the 14th,” Ruby replies, grinning before twirling away to pick up a new order of food. She returns a few minutes later after delivering it to the next customer, chatting more about Valentine’s Day and what it is, while Killian takes a seat at the bar, ordering himself and Emma lunch and coffee in the moments Ruby takes a breath.

As he waits for the food and listens to Ruby about the romantic day, half-watching Emma outside to see if she is almost done, his eyes drift back to the hanging hearts and the ugly baby Ruby had called a cupid. He’s not sure what a demented flying baby has to do with a holiday supposed to be for lovers … unless it’s a warning to be careful with the long-lasting consequences of a romantic night.

“And Ruby? What does that thing have to do with this Valentine’s Day?”

She follows his eyesight, and through a laugh, does her best to explain to him what a cupid is. As far as Killian understands it, the little babies with wings are a bastardization of ancient mythology about a god of love who shot arrows at people to make them fall in love with each other. Emma often mentions how strange and foreign she finds the Enchanted Forest, with its ogres and chimera meat, but he must say �� her land is just as strange as she claims his is.

The door to Granny’s swings open then, a tinkling bell ringing out to announce someone’s entrance, but instead of Emma, it’s Henry instead, bounding in with a wide grin.

“Hi Killian,” he says, swinging into the bar seat beside Killian. “My mom said you were in here. She’s still trying to figure out what Leroy is so mad about, but said she’d be here as soon as she can.”

Killian sighs, and shakes his head. Typical dwarves.

Ruby, who had stepped away to fetch the coffee, returns and grins at Henry, winking conspiratorially at Killian.

“I was just telling Killian about Valentine’s Day, Henry.”

“Right! It’s your first Valentine’s Day with my mom, right?” Killian nods, before noting that it’s his first Valentine’s Day ever, and Henry’s grin widens. “I’ll help you get some things for my mom! I bet she hasn’t had a good Valentine’s Day in a while.”

“You’ll help?” questions Killian, abruptly. He doesn’t think Valentine’s Day is very appropriate for a child – a day for lovers, hadn’t Ruby said?

But Henry nods eagerly. “We celebrate Valentine’s Day at school,” he replies, oblivious to Killian’s train of thought. “So I know what I’m doing. And plus, I know my mom – I know exactly what type of candy and treats she likes too.”

At that, Ruby and Henry begin listing off different items that he absolutely needs to get for Emma at rapid fire pace, so quick that Killian can barely keep up. Chocolates, all different types. Candy hearts with words printed on them like sweetie and love and romance. An expensive bottle of wine. Red and pink flowers, with loose rose petals to scatter around. Candles that smell sweet and strong, a delicate gold or silver piece jewellery in the shape of a heart, small teddy bears holding hearts or their arms open for a hug. They’ll have to make sure his ship is appropriately decorated too, with heart and cupid decorations, glittery and bright.

He opens his mouth, ready to cut them off – they are not hanging a cupid up anywhere on his ship if that’s the last thing he does. But before he can speak, the doors open again, and Emma finally steps in.

Her face is flushed with annoyance, and she marches over to them, blowing out a hard breath of air. “If I have to hear Leroy’s voice for one more minute today, I will lose my mind,” she mutters. She pauses, taking in Killian’s expression (which he is sure one of pure bewilderment) and then the grins on Ruby and Henry’s face, and frowns. “What are you all talking about?”

“Nothing,” Ruby and Henry say quickly.

“Just getting your lunch ready,” Ruby adds. “Killian knows your order by heart now.”

Emma smiles at him, the tension between her brow easing and her eyes softening. “Thanks.”

“Of course, love.”

Grinning, Ruby flitters away to get their food. As she brings it back and they start to eat, Killian enjoys his lunch with Emma, as he always does. Henry and Ruby retreat to the other end of the diner, and Killian can’t help but notice their grins and the list they are starting to make between them. He may not know a thing about this Valentine’s Day, but Killian is sure about one thing – he is going to regret getting Ruby and Henry involved in it.

xxxx

The night of February 14th, Emma finishes her shift at the sheriff station and heads over to Granny’s to pick up some takeout. She and Killian have settled into a routine in the last couple of weeks of having dinner together Thursday nights on his ship. She ducks Granny’s, a takeaway bag in her fist, waving in departure to Ruby’s wink and suggestive comment to have fun with Killian tonight.

Before reaching the docks, Emma makes a short stop at the corner store to grab some snacks for after dinner. She’s made it her mission to introduce Killian to the food of this world, and that, of course, includes junk food. His palate is still mostly rooted in salted fish and hard bread, and there are some processed sweets that absolutely do not agree with him. But they have found a few things that both of them can agree on other than Granny’s takeout, which seems to satisfy the taste buds of anyone from any realm.

Emma picks up some chips and a bag of cheddar popcorn – a new favourite for Killian, they’ve discovered – and then heads to the front desk to pay. However, she pauses by the greeting card section, bright red cards for Valentine’s catching her eye.

At breakfast this morning with Henry, he had reminded her, in his blunt and not so subtle way, that it was Valentine’s Day today and had she gotten Killian anything yet? She’d laughed and ruffled his hair, telling him to mind his own business, though it had gotten her thinking.

She hasn’t got him anything, because, well, she’s never had anyone to buy a Valentine’s Day card for before. It just wasn’t on her mind as something she should do. She’s only been in one serious relationship during the month February before, and her and Neal weren’t really the couple to get each other mushy cards with funny animal puns or an elaborate poem that would take up multiple paragraphs.

Besides, she doubts Killian has any idea what Valentine’s Day is or that they even had an equivalent in the Enchanted Forest. She’s noticed him staring at the decorations around town, his brow furrowed, and she keeps forgetting to explain it to him.

(Okay, that’s not quite true; Emma has thought about explaining it, but she doesn’t know how to, not when it’s a day about romance and that could mean mentioning the word love or feelings or something along those lines and Emma does not want to go there.)

Emma turns away from the cards, but then pauses, Henry’s words echoing in her mind.

Have you got anything for Killian yet? It is Valentine’s Day, Mom! He is your boyfriend, right?

Well … she supposes he’s got a point. While Henry’s idea of Valentine’s Day is still mired in innocence, mostly of candy and mandatory valentines’ cards exchanged between classmates, the sentiment behind the holiday finally feels like something she can get behind. Getting something for some you lo-care about, a day to show how much someone means to you? Alright, fine. She can do that.

Especially seeing as he almost died a few weeks ago … nothing like a brush with death to put things into perspective.

So, with her arms full of chips and popcorn and praying no one like Regina or her parents pop in to see her and make some knowing or snide comment, Emma turns back to the greeting card section.  

The Valentine’s Day cards are the most prominent given the current date; the cards are mostly glittery and pink and truly revolting if she’s being honest with herself, but she forces herself to look through them, searching for the least offensive card she can find. There are many that make her anxiety soar or cringe with second hand embarrassment – no cards with the word love, she thinks firmly, or ones that profess undying devotion (nothing with the word dying either, not after the incident with Gold and Killian’s heart a few weeks ago).

Finally, one catches her eye. It’s pale pink, devoid of glitter or the dreaded L-word. Emblazoned on the front is a boat floating through a sea of crimson hearts, the inscription inside reading You Float My Boat underneath a picture of the same ship, its sails unfurled to that the main sail is a bright red heart.

She snorts, but it’s perfect. Not too cheesy (compared to the some of the others, at least), maritime related, no mention of anything too serious, and if anything, hopefully something will make Killian laugh.

After paying for her items, and borrowing the clerk’s pen to sign her name on the card and write Killian’s name on the envelope, Emma heads out to the docks. It’s a cool evening, and as she approaches the ship, all is quiet on deck.

“Killian?” she calls as she boards. “Are you here?”

“Down below, Swan!”

She slips the card into her jacket’s large inner pocket before she moves to join him in his cabin. As she climbs down the ladder, unable to see the cabin until her head clears the deck, she says, “I got us some chips, and that cheddar popcorn you like – what the hell happened in here?”

The cabin is utterly unrecognizable. The lighting is dim, as usual, but instead of being lit by lanterns, there are countless candles around the cabin, low and flickering. The neat collection of maps and books on the centre table has been replaced by several bouquets of scarlet and pale pink roses, bowl upon bowl of candy hearts, a stack of chocolate boxes, and several bottles of wine. There are more flowers and rose petals around the entire cabin, with heart streamers wrapped around the chairs and taped to the bookcases. It looks more like a cabin you’d see in one of those cheesy love cruises than the sleeping quarters of a dreaded pirate captain.

“What – what is all this?”

Killian, who is standing at the bottom of the stairs, extends his hook to help her down the last few steps of the ladder. In the dim light it’s hard to see his expression, but when he speaks his voice is tinged with embarrassment.

“I was told this is the norm for Valentine’s Day in your land, but now I see that Henry and Ruby have certainly taken advantage of my naivety surrounding your realm’s holidays …”

At once, it all falls into place. That day at the diner, Henry and Ruby’s strange behaviour then and today, Killian’s bewilderment. She should’ve known that they were up to something, especially with Henry’s pressure this morning. It’s a little over the top, and she can definitely see Ruby and Henry’s influence in this, but the fact that Killian allowed the pair of them to bring all this stuff into his ship and make it up in this way, without knowing anything about the holiday, well … it’s seriously one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for her.

Killian is still talking, something about how Ruby and Henry are responsible for all this and he’s sorry if it’s too much, when Emma steps forward, interrupting his rambles by pressing a firm kiss to his lips. She drops the chips as she wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly to her as he does the same.

“I love it,” she says against his mouth, and then pulls away to look at it all again. They move towards the table together, admiring the chocolates and the candy, and Killian’s expression shifts into one of mischief, his eyes dancing.

“Even the extravagance of candy hearts?” he asks teasingly, gesturing to the numerous bowls. “I must confess, I had one earlier and nearly broke a tooth.”

Emma laughs and presses a kiss to his cheek, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Even the rock-hard candy hearts.”

He grins, and then picks up one of the loose roses from the table and hands it to her, bowing his head slightly in reverence. “For you, love. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

She takes it from him, smiling at the memory of when he’d last given her a flower, at their first date, and then pulls the envelope from her jacket pocket, thankful that she listened to Henry and got him something too. It’s far less than all this, but she hopes he’ll love it anyways.

“I have something for you too. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Killian’s eyes brighten, and he quickly opens the card, delicately ripping the top of the envelope with his hook. He laughs as he sees it, delighted, and he kisses her again.

“Thank you, love. I take it ‘float my boat’ is a good thing?”

Emma grins and nods. “The best.”  

They wrap their arms around each other, and Emma glances back to the cluttered table, grinning, her earlier apprehensions around Valentine’s Day and what it means and feelings and all that put to rest – maybe this holiday isn’t so bad after all.

[crystallinecrimsonmoth]

Small Town Killers [ongoing]

Chapter 1

MASTERPOST     NEXT [IN PRODUCTION]

The small town of Phoenix Creek had always been quiet. Not a sound came from the sprawling empty fields and the block of buildings that they surrounded. Not a peep, not a squeak. It was one of those places with that peculiar quality of nothing having ever happened. Simple, quaint, boring. Nothing like this has ever happened there before, never in the one hundred and fifty-two years that it had existed.

 At least, that’s what Daphne’s Auntie Piper said she was told on the phone. The young deputy sounded like a nice man, the woman made sure to mention, earning a snort from her niece and a promise that she’d give him a look just in case her matchmaking skills were getting better.

 ‘I hope you didn’t interrogate him on the phone, Auntie.’

 ‘I don’t interrogate, mi amor, I investigate. I just asked his age, and you know, his height and eye colour.’ She replied with a light-hearted tone, causing the younger Caivano to laugh again.

 ‘I’m sure that didn’t make him uncomfortable at all, Auntie. What colour are his eyes?’

 ‘A very stuttered blue.’ The woman chuckled into the phone, moving the topic of conversation onto the Russo case Daphne was already working on.

 It was lucky the young detective just happened to be in Cornelia, the town an hour away from and just slightly bigger than Phoenix Creek. She had to admit the infidelity cases were much less interesting than the murders so she was glad she could sink her teeth into the new crime. She was thankful for any juicier crime scenes; it kept her mind ticking over with fascinating facts about the human body.

 The more gruesome the case, the less her nightmares plagued her at night. An abnormal coping mechanism, for sure, but it worked for her.

 With the knowledge that her Aunt Piper had booked her a hotel room in advance, the young PI bid farewell to the Russos, offering the photos to the local police station so that they could finish the job now that she’d determined the facts they needed to proceed.

 ‘Be sure to thank your aunt when you get back home, won’t you, Daph?’ Mrs Russo smiled at her when they shook hands, Daphne already standing by the front door of the woman’s house to leave.

 The redhead did her best not to be blunt or inappropriate with her newest former client but did put on a rather cynical smile, tightening her grip on her hand just before she let go and moved onto the step behind her. Bitches like her, the ones who still treated her like a child, were the clients she hated the most, and they appeared more often than she would like.

 ‘I will thank her, yeah, Mrs Russo. Even though it was me who figured out your scum husband was cheating on you with the nice lady from the Rose House. I suppose you’ll be divorcing him, so you’ll be Miss Neill again soon, what a shame. You’re welcome, by the way.’ She gave her a salute before walking away and leaving her to react to what she’d said.

 By the time Daphne reached her Buick’s door, the blonde bitch had finally caught up to her words enough to react, her sour glare forcing the young detective to cover her mouth to keep her laugh inside.

 ‘You rude, insolent child. Does your aunt know you speak to people with such sarcasm and disrespect?’

 ‘I think she stopped caring when I turned twenty-one, ma’am. Lovely to meet you, I hope your husband keeps sleeping with that woman, maybe it’ll help you remove that stick from your ass and move on.’ She chirped, offering the woman one more bright smile before stripping off her jacket and climbing into the car.

 Saluting the soon to be former Mrs Russo once more, Daphne drove off in the direction of her Cornelia hotel, determined to pick up her travelling case and get the hell out of the town before she did something stupid and got herself in a difficult situation by paying another visit to Freya Russo. She wasn’t worth the struggle.

  ‘Please think of the Whiteoak Inn the next time you’re staying in Cornelia.’

 ‘I won’t be coming back to this town, no need to worry. Lots of clients in lots of places, I don’t often come to the same place twice.’ Daphne replied to the receptionist as she paid her room up, her eyes going a little wider when the young man leaned over the desk to speak quietly.

 ‘You’re investigating the murder of that Robs woman, right? I heard her throat was sliced open and they cut out her tongue.’

 Leaning forward and resting her elbows on the counter, Daphne tapped his cheek in a gentle gesture, giving him a smirk.

 ‘I can’t confirm or deny those details, though I’m curious where you got them from. The Robs death hasn’t been released to the newspapers yet.’

 The receptionist, who she could decipher was no more than a high schooler based on his acne-ridden and exhausted appearance, backed off and gave her a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his greasy neck awkwardly.

 ‘My buddy’s dad works in the Phoenix Creek police station. He overheard him talking about it with some of his work friends.’

 Daphne nodded, running a hand through her hair as she took her credit card back and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. Sliding on her shades, she spared the teen one more look, offering him a slight smile.

 ‘Nice to meet you, Dylan. I hope your big mouth doesn’t get your buddy’s dad fired.’ She hummed, pulling her case along behind her and getting lost in the trundle of the wheels until she was packing up her car.

 The drive to Phoenix Creek was a quiet one after rush hour, though the young detective suspected the road between the two small towns always stayed silent bar the few tractors and little number of cars that drove it. Farming fields whizzed past her as she headed for the new case ahead of her, but the hushed air felt like it heralded something dangerous, something coming into the town that would spell trouble.

 It didn’t bother her too much, Daphne shrugging off the feeling with a smile when she saw the sign proclaiming:

 WELCOME TO PHOENIX CREEK! THE TOWN PERFECT FOR THE QUIET ONES! ENJOY YOUR STAY, WON’T YOU?

 She let out a little snort at the caption on the sky-blue board, tapping her fingers on the top of the steering wheel. For a town with a murder case about to break, they had quite the angelic opinion of themselves. Her smug smirk didn’t last long though when she reached a fork in the road, no idea which way to go.

 It occurred to her that it could be a loop, both roads going in and out of the town, but she couldn’t take that chance. She really didn’t like being lost, especially not in an unknown place. It would only lead to trouble.

 Driving a little bit further up to the junction, Daphne breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw a man standing out by his driveway, the only house she’d seen for miles. Slowing to a stop beside him, she waved the guy over and gave him a smile, tucking her hands into her pockets.

 ‘Hi, can you tell me which way to go to get to Phoenix Creek? The welcome sign was back there but I don’t want to take the wrong road.’ She laughed, rubbing the back of her neck, and brushing her hair away from the nape.

 The old man nodded, turning to the fork in the road and pointing at both roads.

 ‘Depends on where you’re going, darlin’. Go left for West Creek, the trailer park and Harbour Bar are on that side. You look like a nice girl though, so I assume you’re looking for the Red Herring Hotel, that’s in East Creek, that side.’ He explained, smiling when she nodded in response.

 Daphne, far more confident about her trip and the new job now that she knew where to go, smiled back at the man.

 ‘Thank you so much, sir.’ She turned back to her car, opening the door, and stepping into it but stopping when the man spoke again.

 ‘What’d you say your name was, girl? We’re a tight knit place so I like having a name to put to a face. I’m Gregory Balk.’

 The youngest Caivano smiled brighter at that. She liked nice people like Gregory Balk.

 ‘Daphne Caivano. Nice to meet you, sir, have a nice evening.’

 ‘You as well, Miss Caivano. Welcome to Phoenix Creek.’

 Starting the drive down the route to East Creek, Daphne looked around at the main road of the town, gazing at the small stores and few other establishments that lined the centre. It looked quiet, just like her Aunt Piper had said, like a pin dropping on the road would cause chaos. It should have been reassuring but it wasn’t.

 Daphne knew that peace only lasted so long.

 As she drove further on, looking for the police station she wanted to visit before settling into the Red Herring, a flash of purple caught her eye amongst the red brick main street, gaze settling on a small coffee shop when she focused on it. It looked friendly, somewhere she would have to visit while she was in town.

 ‘Basking Blends… interesting.’ She murmured to herself, turning back to the road when she returned her attention to the police station search.

 Luckily for her, the signage for the plain red brick building was big enough to notice before the turn in to the parking lot. Flicking on her turn signal, Daphne swerved into the space by the station’s front door and got out, watching a few of the people wandering by eyeing her brightly coloured hair.

 She ignored them, used to the staring after her hell on earth fortnight in Cornelia, and pulled on her mother’s old flight jacket to look the part of the fancy Delaware private investigator of Caivano’s Cases. Adding her black fedora once she’d run a hand through her hair, she stretched her arms out in front of her and then headed into the building.

 ‘Here you go, ma’am.’

 ‘Oh well who ever said misogyny was dead, here it stands before me. Am I too feeble a woman to open the door for myself?’ Daphne gave the man who held the door for her a grin, shrugging when he muttered “bitch” under his breath and continuing her wander up to the front desk, smiling brightly at the woman on the other side.

 ‘Finally, a lady officer.’

 ‘You look like you’ve had a hell of a day. Long drive? And do you have an appointment with someone at the station?’ The officer smiled at her, offering the sign-in book to her to log her arrival time in.

 ‘Not too long, thank god for that. I’m here to speak with Sheriff Monroe, I wasn’t given a time.’

 ‘Okay… Can you tell me your surname?’

 ‘Caivano.’

 ‘Okay, I just need to check the timetable-’

 ‘When the boss said the Robs’ hired a private investigator, I didn’t think it would be a high school kid.’

 Daphne spun on her heel at the sound of a man’s voice, evaluating his appearance while he scrutinised her with his gaze. Clean uniform but the scruff on his face and neck was a week old at least, and the nicotine stains on his fingers didn’t make him look very professional. Smoking habits were a sickness but that excuse only went so far in a work setting.

 She smiled at the man, tipping her hat to him.

 ‘Sorry, I’m here to see the Sheriff. I only presume it’s not you because doesn’t the man in charge always have the biggest dick? Yours doesn’t look too impressive.’ She commented, hearing the officer behind the reception desk laugh and trying hard not to giggle herself.

 She kept her gaze set on his, challenging him until another voice spoke up behind her back, lighter footsteps walking towards the scene.

 ‘Move on, Davids. I think the lady has done enough damage to your ego now.’

 ‘Yes, sir.’ The asshole disappeared with a grumble, leaving out the front door.

 Probably going to smoke again, she thought to herself, before turning to smile at the Sheriff, sticking out her hand.

 ‘Nice to meet you, Sheriff Monroe, I’m-’

 ‘PI Caivano, yes, we spoke on the line. You sounded older on the phone…’

 ‘You spoke to my Auntie, sir, Piper Caivano. I’m Daphne, I take care of the out-of-town cases which this certainly is. And I can assure you, Sheriff, that while I am young, I do have my full private investigator license and nine years under my belt working for my Auntie.’

 The older man nodded, shaking her hand with a quirk of a smile on his lips and gesturing towards the rooms behind him.

��‘I’ll show you the set-up just now then. I’ll try and be quick as I’m sure you want to get settled into the Red Herring. It’s a long drive from Delaware to Indiana, I can only imagine how tired you are.’

 Daphne shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ears while she followed him into a room with a murder board set up by the wall. She approached it as she replied to him, running her fingers over the photo of the woman with her tongue cut out.

 ‘No, sir, I was in Cornelia when my Auntie told me to come here so it wasn’t long at all. I could use a recommendation for some place to eat though, haven’t had food since breakfast.’ She hummed, distracted by the gruesome scenes in the pictures.

 They all depicted Mrs Cassandra Robs in various positions of pose, her tongue cut out and a gash lining her throat where she had bled out from the deep stab in her artery. Multiple cuts on her arms and hands indicated a struggle as well as the bruises that surrounded them and-

 ‘Why would they take her hand?’

 ‘The others in the station think the killer might have had a fetish of some sort.’

 ‘Based on the missing hand alone? I don’t think so.’

 ‘All due respect, Miss Caivano, but we don’t have a lot to go on. My guys are just stabbing in the dark with anything right now.’

 ‘Shouldn’t stab in the dark. Conclusions require substantial evidence and I don’t see that for a fetish assumption on this board.’

 Sheriff Monroe sighed, approaching until he was beside her and staring at the board too.

 ‘Then what do you see, Miss Caivano?’

 Daphne hummed to herself, rubbing her hands together as she peeked closer at the pictures.

 ‘I don’t see anything but a murder, not yet anyway. I need time with the photos, and I want to conduct interviews on whatever suspects you have right now. Also, calling me Miss Caivano is going to get old fast so just stick to Daphne. What’s your first name?’ She turned on her heel to look up at him, stepping back a bit so she wasn’t putting as much strain on her neck.

 She could see that the Sheriff was amused by her, a little smile on his face as he stared back down at her with curiosity in his gaze.

 ‘Elias, my name.’

 Daphne nodded, taking off her hat briefly to run a hand through her hair and then placing it back on.

 ‘Well good to finally meet you, Elias Monroe. I am going to head out and try and find a place to eat my hunger away now that I’ve had a look around the workplace. I’ll be in at half past eight tomorrow, I think.’ The young woman told him with a smile, walking around the other end of the table in the room so she didn’t have to squeeze past the officer in question.

 Her hand touched the door handle to pull it open just as Elias spoke again.

 ‘Clementine’s Diner is good for dinner, on the right-hand side of the crossroad in the middle of town. The Ship’s Deck is decent too, but you’re better going there at lunch. Avoid the West Creek folks that way.’ She turned to see him nod to her, nodding in return with a brighter smile.

 Another nice person like Gregory Balk.

 ‘Thanks. See you tomorrow, Elias.’

 ‘Let’s hope we can find this killer.’ He replied as she headed out of the room and the police station with every intention of going to Clementine’s Diner to see if it was as good as Elias said.

[spilledinkstories]

‘Round the Mountain

She’ll be coming ‘round the mountain when she comes…

We’ll go out to meet her when she comes…

☀︎

“Have you ever seen it before?” Little Emma asked her grandmother. 

“When I was about your age,” her grandmother said with a soft smile. 

“I can’t imagine a world without the moon,” said Ben, a few years older than Emma, forgetting to try to be cool about the upcoming event. 

It had been ten long years of night. The world was lit by the glowing moon that never waxed or waned, turning the landscape of the small town nestled between the feet of three mountains into world of blues and purples and greys.

“When I was your age I said the same thing about the coming of the moon,” Ben and Emma’s mother said. They were seated around a scrubbed wooden table in their family home, Father and Mother at each end, and the children facing the large picture window with eyes wide.

“I’m going to be at work a lot more,” their father said. 

“Why?” Ben asked.

“We have to make sure the solar factories are working perfectly. We need to be able to store as much sunlight as possible before the next lunar season. It’s what powers the city.” 

“Not having to constantly have the lights on is going to be a nice change,” Mother said. 

“I can’t wait to plant my roses,” grandmother said, a wide smile splitting her face. 

In the kitchen off to the side of the dining room, a thin screeching started. Mother got up to take the kettle off the range and pour the hot chocolates, Emma racing into the kitchen behind her and grabbing the whipped cream out of the fridge. 

“I’ll go downtown to buy sunscreen tomorrow,” Mother said. 

“If there’s any left,” Father said with a dry chuckle, coming into the kitchen to help carry the full mugs. 

“I know, I should have gone last week. But it’s coming sooner than any of us thought.” 

“We all thought we had more time,” grandmother agreed. 

“What’s sunscreen?” Ben asked, taking gulp of the cocoa and licking the whipped cream moustache from his face. 

Emma clambered back into her chair, and stared with wide eyes as her father described how your skin can burn and sting and even peel off if you don’t protect yourself from the sun. 

“So the sun is bad?” Emma was too young to picture any world other than the one she knew. She wrung her tiny hands, pulling her nightgown over her knees that were curled up to her chest, as though hiding under the covers. 

“No, no. It isn’t evil or dangerous. You’ll love it. The sky will be bright, and the evenings golden, but it will never be perfectly dark. Not for a long time. You’ll be able to feel the warmth of it on you, just sitting outside.” 

“One thing I haven’t missed, the heat,” grandmother grumbled. 

“I can’t wait to not have to pile sweaters on,” Ben said excitedly. 

“Well, it shouldn’t be long now, we might as well hit the road once we’re done our drinks,” Mother said. 

Father looked at the clock that hung on the wall behind his head, and was surprised to see that it was nearing six in the morning already.  

They finished their drinks, dressed, turned all the lights off in their cozy home for the first time in the children’s memory, flicked on some flashlights, and made their way to the streets. 

Despite the early hour, the streets were packed with the residents of Canyon Springs. Everyone was wearing light jackets, and children were talking excitedly of what they imagined a golden world would look like. 

Grandmother was looking around her, committing everything to memory. The way the pavement was a dark and sombre grey, the deep indigo of the sky, the smattering of stars that twinkled merrily. The owls that could always be heard hooting, the silver light of the moon through thin, veiny leaves. The way houses themselves seemed to sleep. She would miss it, indeed. 

“I think a golden world would be magical,” Emma was saying. “If everything was gold, you could cut it up and buy things.” 

“It won’t be real gold, idiot,” Ben said, exasperated. 

“Benjamin,” Father said, though he was smiling. 

“Everything will be bright and colourful, like your picture books,” Mother said warmly. 

As they walked, passing the houses and entering the downtown where small shops and restaurants sat, windows unlit, their neighbours joined them, and they paraded in the dark down to city hall, in the centre of town in the heart of the mountains. 

“Here, live at the scene, we will broadcast the rising sun, for all you sleepyheads who couldn’t make it down here yourself!” A camera man was saying, clearly thrilled that he’d been chosen for the prestigious job of introducing the sun to the world of morning news television. 

“Ready to work like slaves, Paul?” A man said to Emma’s father, slapping him on the back.

“The overtime will be killer, but the money will be nice,” Father said bracingly.

“I heard they want to try a new storage method, gonna have a bunch of engineers come in to build it,” the man said. 

“Course. Their motto is ‘if it ain't broke, fix it anyway.’” The two men laughed. 

“How will we know where to look?” Emma asked, looking up at her mother. 

“You’ll know. The sky will get lighter, on one side of the mountains.” 

“That’s weird,” said Ben. 

“It’ll get all yellow and light blue,” grandmother said. “I should have brought a chair,” she added with a sigh, folding her thin arms across her chest. 

Ben and Emma wandered over to the large, round fountain at the centre of town square. It had been empty their whole lives, and so really just looked like a large cement basin, with a statue of some important man sticking out of the middle. The local children were running around the ledge and playing.

“My dad said since it hasn’t rained in a a while, the sky might look scarlet,” one of Emma’s classmates was telling her. He was an obnoxious little boy, with a turned-up nose, and seemingly permanent jam stains on his cheeks. 

“That’s silly, how could a sky be red.” 

“He said red skies at morning are a sailor’s warning,” the boy said defensively, as though this were an obvious truth. 

“We haven’t got any sailors,” Emma said, glaring at him. 

But as they bickered, an anxious murmur broke out, rippling across the crowd. 

“Why is it doing that?” Hushed voices were saying.

“Have we angered it?” A woman said, fear making her voice high and constricted. 

“It isn’t a person. It’s a ball of gas,” said a tired, bored sounding man. 

“Here at the scene of the Rise, locals wonder what the odd colour could mean,” the news-reporter was saying in harsh, quick tones, as though he was reporting a robbery. “Here with me now is Brenda, who thinks it’s angry. Tell us about this, Brenda.” 

“Well, Tom, I’ve read that if the sky burns red it means that we’ve angered the gods. It means that we’ve been evil, we’ve sinned, and punishment shall reign down upon our heads.” 

“That was Brenda, with a religious outlook,” said Tom, the camera following him away from her to find someone else in the crowd, a smirk tugging at his the corners of his mouth.

“Hello, Sir, how are you? Do you have a theory?” Tom the newsman thrust the microphone into a man’s face. 

“Well, my dad, he was a sailor, see…”

“That’s my dad,” said the jam-faced boy to Emma. 

“…and he always told me that if the sky was red, ‘specially at dawn, there’d be rain.” 

“Rain isn’t red,” someone from the crowd shouted, and people tittered and jeered. 

“Could be, could be,” Tom said, trying to comfort the man who now looked embarrassed. 

“Angry gods, rain, anyone else think they know why the sky is red?” 

As this commotion had been going on, Emma hurried back to her family. She stood with her back pressed against her mother’s legs, her brother close on her right. They exchanged nervous glances. This was not the golden surprise they had been promised. 

Above the peaks of the mountain the sky was blanketed with clouds that rippled and swayed, and were turned the colour of burning embers and ash. In contrast, the face of the mountain was deep, angry black. The world the children had known their whole lives as blue and purple and silver, as friendly and sleepy, had morphed in a matter of minutes. It was as though someone had lit the mountains ablaze, and the flames were licking over the town. 

“Daddy said it could burn,” Emma squeaked to Ben, as hot tears made her eyes itch. She scrubbed her knuckles across her face. 

“What’s that, little girl?” She hadn’t noticed that Tom was standing behind them, and he’d heard Emma’s shy comment. He squatted, and she looked at the crusty makeup caked on his face for the camera, smelled the old coffee and cheap cologne, and did not like Tom the newsman. She pushed back against her mother’s knees, ducking her chin to avoid looking at him.

“Don’t be shy, do you know about the sky?” She peered over his shoulder and saw the camera trained on her. She swallowed nervously, and leaned forward. 

“My dad told me the sun could burn you if you’re not careful. It looks like the sky is on fire. I’m scared we’ll burn.” 

“Goes well with the angry gods theory, I guess,” Tom said as he stood, apparently having heard enough out of little Emma. She was relieved not to have to say more. 

“Look!” Came a shout from someone on the other side of the fountain. Again, whispers and mutterings ricocheted through the rapt audience as they all watched the sky, for at the very peak of the mountain, what appeared to be the bottom of the sky, the angry red was giving way to a bright orange peppered by warm pinks. 

“The fire’s goin’ out, little girl,” said Emma’s father’s friend from work, smiling down at her. She said nothing, continuing to stare. 

The strip of orange and pink seemed to be getting higher and higher, and the red clouds morphed to purples and yellows, as though a foggy rainbow was engulfing the whole scene.

The orange got less foggy. It grew sharp, and bright, and yellow, and Emma thought of a searing yellow blade cutting through the clouds. Tears burned her eyes, and she squinted, determined not to miss a second. 

“Here we go, folks, are you getting this?” Tom said, his hand shielding his eyes. 

“She’ll be coming ‘round the mountain, any second now,” said the man who’s father was a sailor.

With bated breath the people of Canyon Springs watched as the sun pulled itself into the sky, up through the clouds from behind the mountain. The black face of the rock slowly turned from ebony, to graphite, to light grey, and for the first time ever Emma realized that there was snow at the tops, which immediately glistened from the heat of the great golden orb. The sky was still transforming, purples and oranges giving way to bright, happy blues. The moody, dark clouds became fluffy white, making Emma think of the whipped cream on her hot chocolate that morning. She looked at Ben, and was shocked to see that he didn’t look happy. 

“What’s wrong, isn’t it great?” Emma asked. 

“Where did the stars go?” She blinked, and looked back up at the sky, and realized he was right. They were gone. They’d always been there, and while everyone had told them the moon would be missing, no one had warned them about the stars. 

“They’re still there, next to the moon,” grandmother said, smiling a little sadly at them. “They’ve earned their rest.” 

“I’ll miss finding pictures in them,” Ben said, though he looked reassured. 

“You can do that with the clouds,” his father said, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Everyone stayed in the square for about a half an hour, making sure the sun was good and steady, before slowly dispersing to go back to their lives, flashlights hanging uselessly by their sides, some of them taking their jackets off and slinging them over their shoulders. The years of night had come to a close, and as they bathed in the new warmth radiating down on them, none could help the smiles spreading on their faces.