#it was pissing it down with rain the whole bloody weekend

[thisisyourdriverspeaking]

Yes it is Franco's 3rd crash in 2 races but I feel people are forgetting the conditions in Brazil. That was a complete nightmare weekend, I think we can forgive a rookie for crashing in borderline undrivable conditions

[harrysweasleys]

a dream is a wish // f.w

Summary: for @pit-and-the-pen’s writing event! 

Reader can’t stand Fred Weasley, but what happens when a dream changes that?

Prompts: “do you have to be that painfully beautiful?” x “well, if you saw yourself how I saw you, could you blame me?”

Warnings: injury, maybe like one swear word?

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: this came out much later than i intended but ah! here it is! enjoy :) 

——

It was safe to say you were not a fan of Fred Weasley.

Never have been, and most likely never will be. He was always loud, boisterous, arrogant, annoying, and most of all, found pleasure in disrupting the educational system any chance he could get. I mean, who does that, right?

Whether it be causing distractions with his equally-arrogant twin during class, or setting fireworks and other shenanigans loose in the hallways, you wanted to try and avoid both of them as much as possible. 

But, it was Fred that you disliked more. He was the louder one, the one who knew exactly how to get under your skin and piss you off in all the wrong ways. The one that despite how much your friends thought him hilarious and charming, you’d never be able to get on the same page with. What was charming about someone who chose to disrespect all rules and live a carefree lifestyle?

That was not for you.

You were glad, on this day, that you could escape the confining castle walls and the hustle and bustle of the school on the weekend and make off to Hogsmeade with your pals, the cool autumn air a refreshing awakening as soon as you stepped outside. The leaves were changing colours and collecting in piles on the ground, the skies were gloomy and cloudy, and somehow, the smell of cinnamon was always in the air in the small Wizarding village.

“Can we head into Honeydukes’s afterwards?” your fellow Gryffindor, Megan, turned to ask as you guys entered the Three Broomsticks, the tip of her nose looking pink and her cheeks pale. It was rather cold for November.

“Sure thing,” you nodded, smiling in comfort at the familiar cozy atmosphere of the dingy pub. Students all around were crowded around in bundles, drinking hot butterbeer. You couldn’t wait to have one yourself.

Megan led you to the table where Ginny was sitting, a large cup of hot cocoa in her hands as she waved you guys over.

“Been waiting forever,” she grinned, “You guys go order, I’ll save your seats.”

You turned around and headed back towards the bar with Megan, the two of you catching the bartender’s attention and ordering yourselves each a nice hot butterbeer. You hadn’t felt so cold outside, but now that you were in the warmth, you could feel your fingers begin to burn as they thawed.

After a few moments wait, you grabbed the butterbeer mug between your already warm fingers and began to walk back to the table. You had to scooch around other tables and chairs, but eventually, you spotted Ginny’s red hair once more in the same table by the window.

Unfortunately, though, you spotted two other heads of red hair as well. Fred and George were crouched over their younger sister, a large Zonko’s bag on the table as they showed off their latest purchases.

“Bloody fantastic,” you groaned, causing Megan to chuckle as the two of you arrived at the table.

“Well, afternoon, ladies,” Fred grinned, taking his eyes off of his products to look at the two of you, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Is it, though?” you rolled your eyes, sitting down and placing your mug on the table, “This is a school outing. There are students everywhere.”

Fred let out a laugh, “Well, not everyone decides to participate in such festivities.”

You let out a loud sigh and frowned, looking down to your drink to distract yourself from rebutting his comment. George had run off to go see Lee and another group of Gryffindors, so at least that was one down. If only Fred could leave as well.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, you felt Megan kick your leg under the table and so you shot her a look, asking her what was up.

“Well, guess I’ve best be off,” Fred said before she could reply to your glare, “Have a lovely afternoon.” As he passed by you, he placed his hand atop your head, “Especially you.”

“Don’t touch me,” you pulled your head out from under his hand, furrowing your eyebrows and mustering up your best scowl. 

“Ah, intimidating,” Fred smirked, “I’m shaking in my bloody shoes.” Ginny and Megan stifled their laughter but you could hear them anyways. They were hardly being subtle. 

“Get out of here, Weasley,” you turned way from him and faced your butterbeer once again, trying not to let him get to you. You had to fight a blush at Ginny and Megan’s laughter as Fred walked away, his chuckle fading into the loudness of the pub.

“Anyways,” Ginny grinned, pulling her hand away from her mouth, “Let’s change the subject before Y/N explodes.”

You snapped your head up to face her, your cheeks becoming rather warm, “I’m not going to explode, thank you very much. I just can’t stand your prat brothers.”

Ginny tossed her hair behind her shoulder and leaned forwards on the table, resting against her elbows, “You do a terrific job of hiding it.”

“Sorry, Gin,” you gave her a sheepish grin, “Tell them to stop being assholes. But I can try and be civil.”

Ginny wiggled her eyebrows and her and Megan exchanged a look. You ignored it, knowing they were probably thinking of something that you didn’t even want to know about, and took a long sip of butterbeer, letting the soothing, warm liquid calm you.

After sharing a nice long chat, Ginny having downed two whole hot cocoas, the three of you walked over to Honeyduke’s. The sun was gone and a thick layer of clouds covered the sky.

You really hoped it wouldn’t rain. You were chilly enough as it is. The last thing you wanted was to also be soaking wet.

Ginny held the door open as you and Megan climbed in afterwards, the warmth from the store immediately making a difference.

Megan took off to check out the latest line of sweets, her head disappearing within the busy store. Students were everywhere — eating, chatting, filling up bags of candies for long classes.

You noticed you had also lost Ginny. Where she had gone off to, you had no idea. But you took advantage of the fact that she was gone and made your way to the nearest shelf. It was incredibly tall and stacked with loads of different types of —

“Chocolate, a good choice,” a smooth voice said from behind you, causing you to jump and spin around, ready to knock over whoever had stepped close enough to speak in your ear.

You frowned as you faced Fred’s grinning figure.

“Oh, it’s you,” you rolled your eyes and turned back around, “I’d like to shop in peace. Bye bye.”

To your dismay, Fred pretended not to hear you and came to stand by your side, “As a resident expert on anything sweet — like myself — I recommend these guys.”

Fred reached up and grabbed a chocolate frog, placing it in your hand. You stared down at it, eyebrow cocked. You heard these were quite nice, honestly, but that didn’t mean you wanted to accept one from Fred.

“Why should I trust your opinion?” you glanced back up at him, a blank look on your face. 

“Because,” he replied, grabbing another one for himself, “I know my stuff.”

You glared at him before walking away, the chocolate frog still in your hand. You couldn’t reach up to put it back and there was no way in hell you’d ask Fred for help. So, to keep your pride, you’d just buy it.

“I’m just taking this,” you finally arrived at the cash, placing the single chocolate frog down in front of the young cashier.

“And this one,” Fred was somehow still behind you, placing his own chocolate frog down next to yours, “On me.”

“Oh, charming,” you sassed, turning to face him with your arms crossed, “I can afford it myself, you know. I don’t need your help.”

Fred grinned at you as he removed his wallet from his back pocket, paying for the two chocolate frogs, “I know you don’t. I’m just being sweet.”

You ignored the wink he gave you, grabbing your chocolate frog off of the counter and placing it in your coat pocket. The cold outdoor air would prevent it from melting, so you figured it was safe there.

“Well, stop being sweet,” you smiled sarcastically, re-adjusting your scarf and beginning to walk away from him. You heard him call your name, but luckily for you, Ginny and Megan found you before he could. They both had a bag each — how they had managed to each buy their own stash of candies in the short amount of time you had found one chocolate frog, you’ll never know.

“Ready to go, ladies?” Megan asked, grabbing a lolly out of her bag and unwrapping it, sticking it into her mouth as she led the three of you back into the fresh November air.

You sighed as you stepped outside, shoving your hand into your pocket, feeling the chocolate frog box sitting there. You absentmindedly fiddled with it, not even noticing you were doing so.

This would make a lovely midnight snack.

——

You know that saying; when you have a romantic dream about someone, you can’t see them the same way anymore?

Well, you usually didn’t believe that. You thought people just got too attached to their subconscious and wanted to feel things that weren’t there.

You especially didn’t want to believe it when you woke up that morning, last night’s dream crystal clear in your head. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were with anyone else — the idea of cuddling and kissing any other person on the planet would have been fine.

But no, no. Your dream decided to pair you up with the one person you didn’t want.

Fred goddamn Weasley.

It was probably only because you ate the chocolate frog he bought you. So, due to that, he was in your mind. That’s the only reasonable explanation. There was no other reason for such a dream to occur.

You hopped of bed, shaking your head every few minutes to rid yourself of the disgusting images from your head, and rushed down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, Ginny and Megan still sound asleep in their four poster beds. They’d never find out you just dreamt of yourself in a relationship with Ginny’s older brother. They’d never let you live it down.

The Great Hall was silent as you walked in, the candles lit and the tables rather empty. You spotted a few familiar faces at the Gryffindor table, but chose you’d prefer to sit alone and stew in solemn silence.

Why had your mind decided to pair you up with Fred? Why?

As if the Devil himself was playing a game, Fred, George and Lee made their appearance in the Hall doorway with loud laughter. You groaned, letting your hair fall into your face as you poured yourself a cup of tea, wishing more than anything that they wouldn’t spot you.

“Mornin’, Y/N!” Lee sat across from you, a big smile on his face. You couldn’t muster the same expression, your lips curved downwards into a scowl. Of course they’d come sit with you. Everyone else at the Gryffindor table was either a first or second year. Clearly, the universe was testing you.

“Hi, Lee,” you gave a forced smile, taking a sip of your tea and keeping your eyes away from the twins that sat on either side of him.

Although you were fine with George sitting across from you, you couldn’t bring yourself to face Fred. Whether it was due to your dislike of him or the fact that you just had a dream where you had been in love with him, you couldn’t tell. But your heartbeat was starting to quicken — and you were not liking it.

“Awfully silent this morning,” Fred smirked, resting his elbows on the table.

You stood up abruptly, gulping down the last bit of tea in your mug, “Maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh — you wound me,” he placed a hand over his heart, “Are you bothered by me?”

“Well, if you saw yourself how I saw you, could you blame me?” you scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, “My morning was going fine until I saw you. Time for me to leave.”

George and Lee snickered as Fred’s smile faltered, his eyes glued to you as you scurried quickly out of the Great Hall, wishing more than anything that Fred didn’t get you as huffed and flustered as he did.

Damn him.

You couldn’t stand him. Him and his bright hair. Him and his freckled cheeks. Him and his warm eyes.

Yep, the dream didn’t change anything.

——

You were rather glad the sunshine continued to peak throughout the day — especially as you walked down to the Quidditch pitch. Playing in rain and snow was fun, sure, but there was nothing like playing on a clear, fresh day.

“Glad the weather is nice,” Ginny said from next to you as if she were reading your mind, “Should make finding the Snitch easier.”

You grinned, “Always glad when the sun’s out.”

She chuckled and opened the tent flap, letting you head in before her. The rest of the team hadn’t arrived yet which you were thankful for. It would give you time to get changed and mentally prepare before the rowdiness began. You loved most of the team to bits, but they could be quite loud. Especially the one person on the team that you didn’t like.

You seized your Quidditch robes and promptly changed into them, stepping out of the private room and immediately slouching your shoulders.

Your peace and quiet hadn’t lasted long. Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia, Harry and Ginny were huddled together, laughing loudly as they each began to prepare for the game.

“Oh, Y/N, we’re going over today’s plan!” Angelina waved you over, motioning for you to join. You did as the captain said, standing close to Ginny and as far from the grinning twins as you could.

“Now, this one here,” Angelina pointed to a badly drawn diagram on a crumpled piece of parchment, “Is called Bollocks, and it’s when—,”

“Sorry,” George snickered, lifting his hand to cut her off, “You named a play Bollocks?”

“Problem?” Angelina placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow, challenging him, “It was one of Wood’s old plays and might I add, it always worked brilliantly.”

You rolled your eyes at the immature reaction from the twins, wishing they’d pipe down so you could actually focus.

Fred was next to speak, “Course it was Ollie. Lad always had such wonderful names for everything.”

“Excuse me,” you found yourself speaking up, not even sure where your voice came from, “Can you stop being immature for three seconds so we can listen to Angie and maybe win this game?”

Narrowing his eyes at you, Fred scoffed, “And what exactly is it that’s set you off today? Always something, isn’t there?”

You blinked rapidly, “What?”

“You’ve always got something to say,” he continued, “Bit annoying, really.”

The tent was silent, the team stepping back slightly as if trying to avoid being caught in the crossfire. You felt your blood being to boil. Fred had never actually snapped back at you before — and for some reason, you genuinely disliked it.

“I—” your voice trailed off as you realized you didn’t even know what to say. You almost felt bad. Which was rare. You never really felt bad for telling Fred off. He usually always deserved it. Why did you feel that way this time?

“Anyways,” Angelina took her place once more, trying to cut a knife through the palpable awkwardness that was now floating around the tent. 

You were still looking at Fred, who was now facing away, his jaw clenched and his cheeks flushed. Never had you seen him this put off.

Angelina continued to explain the game plan, but you were too consumed with unwanted guilt to pay attention to every word. Why had this argument left you with such a bitter feeling? You weren’t normally left feeling sour after any sort of encounter with Fred. Was it because he actually looked upset? Was it because you felt bad? Did it have anything to do with your stupid dream?

No, no. Can’t be the dream. It was just a dream.

She finished up her speech and you took your place behind Alicia, grabbing your broom and ready to make an entrance onto the pitch. But, after your standoff with Fred, all excitement that you previously had was gone. If anything, you would much rather run back to the castle and hide away in your dorm room right about now.

“You alright?” Ginny leaned over, “He’s not actually mad, y’know? Just loses his temper sometimes.”

“I feel bad,” you whispered back, your grip on the broom tightening, “I’ll apologize later.”

Ginny smiled at you, not able to say much more as the lot of you walked out onto the field and came face to face with your opponent. The loud cheers from the crowd helped lift your spirits slightly, but you couldn’t help sneaking another peak at Fred. He was laughing at something Angelina had said, all traces of his previous anger gone.

Maybe Ginny was right, perhaps he wasn’t angry. You felt you needed to apologize anyways, but hopefully it would be forgotten and things could just go back to normal. Whatever normal was.

The whistle blew to signal the beginning of the match, causing you to kick off the ground and take off, ready to bring to life your game plan with your fellow Chasers. You pushed past your bad feelings and focused solely on the match ahead, causing Gryffindor to take an early lead.

Ten minutes in and you were up thirty to zero, two of those goals scored by yours truly. You celebrated both with the rest of the team team, noticing, however, how Fred didn’t come to join both times. He seemed rather thrilled when Alicia scored, though.

Why was this bothering you?

You shook your head and continued the game. Another ten minutes in and Angelina put another one in, leaving you guys up forty to nothing.

You were ready to execute another play — Bollocks, specifically — when you heard your name being shouted.

“Look out!” Ginny’s eyes were wide as she called out to you.

You gave her a puzzled look, ready to turn around and see what she was pointing at, but you didn’t have the chance to do so.

The Bludger knocked into your arm, causing you to completely lose balance and topple off of your broom. Unbearable pain spread throughout your body, the point of contact on your arm throbbing violently as the world around you spun out of focus. The entire audience gasped as you began to plummet towards the ground.

Sixty feet? Seventy, maybe?

You could hear people shouting your name but you couldn’t open your eyes, bracing yourself for impact. Your head felt heavy, your heart skipping beats.

You tried to squint your eyes open, but all you could see was the blue of the sky and something orange and red flash by.

That was the last thing you saw before your vision went dark.

——

The Hospital Wing at night was usually deserted. The moonlight would shine through the windows onto the empty beds and Madam Pomfrey would retire to her room early. But not tonight.

Tonight, they were all gathered around you.

“Are you sure you feel okay?” Megan asked, seated by your side and holding your hand tightly in hers, “It was really scary to see you fall.”

“I’m fine, Meg,” you replied with a low chuckle, your voice coarse from having been asleep — or passed out — for a few hours, “I don’t even remember hitting the ground.”

“That’s because you didn’t hit the ground,” Ginny sat down on the other side of the bed, arms crossed and a light smirk on her lips, “You got saved before you made impact.” She looked tired, but you were incredibly glad she was here.

“She’s right,” Megan piped up, now wearing the same smirk, “Madam Pomfrey say you passed out due to the Bludger impact and the speed in which you feel. Hitting the ground had nothing to do with it because you didn’t hit the ground.”

You looked between the two, your eyebrows furrowed and your mind not fully wrapping around their words. You had to have hit the ground, right?

“How did I not hit the ground?” you coughed slightly as you spoke, reaching over to the small table next to you and grabbing your glass of water, taking a small sip to hopefully soothe your throat.

“Fred caught you,” Ginny replied tentatively.

You spat the water back out, spraying the bedspread and probably Megan and Ginny’s faces as well, “I’m sorry — what?”

Megan answered, wiping at her eye, “Yep. He caught you right as you passed out.”

You stated at them, your eyes feeling as if they were as wide as saucers. There was no way Fred saved you, was there? Was he the flash of red and orange you had seen?

“Why’d he do that?” you asked with interest, placing your glass of water back down to avoid spraying anyone else with your shocked spitting.

Ginny was about to speak, but the doors to the Hospital Wing opened and she muttered a sly, “Ask him yourself.”

You looked over, and sure enough, Fred was walking in. Accompanied by the rest of the team, yes, but your eyes went to him and only him. Clearly, he could sense your stare, as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck once arriving at the foot of your bed.

“You caught me?” you asked, ignoring whatever it was that Angelina had just asked you.

Fred’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he shrugged, “Yeah. But it’s not a big deal.”

Angelina pursed her lips from next to you, rolling back and forth on the balls of her feet. The group all shared a look and decided to leave the two of you be, slowly slipping out of the Hospital Wing.

You noticed, yes, but were too busy saying, “Thank you.”

Fred cupped his ear and leaned forwards, a hint of a smirk on his lips as all traces of awkwardness seemed to dissipate, “Sorry, did you just thank me? Blimey, must be the end of times.”

You shot him a look, rolling your eyes and dropping your head back down onto the pillow, “Just accept my thanking and be on your way.”

“I actually brought you something,” he lifted his finger, reaching into the tiny pocket on his chest, pulling out a boxed chocolate frog, “Here. For you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms, “I don’t trust it. It’s coming from you.”

“I promise, I didn’t do anything to it. And the other one I gave you was fine, wasn’t it?” he smiled, walking over to the side of the bed to sit on the chair, still holding out the small box. His smile was genuine — but he still had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Fine,” you snatched it from him, “I’ll trust you just this once. Because I’m hungry..”

“I got it from Honeydukes yesterday,” he said, leaning back in the chair and lifting his legs, resting his feet atop your bed. You glared at them as you popped the chocolate into your mouth, letting the sweetness soothe you.

“See?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow, “You can trust me.”

You looked over at him, taking in his relaxed, causal state and the bright look in his eyes. You had always seen him looking as if he were hiding a dragon in his trousers — you couldn’t remember a time you’d seen him so casual.

His red striped shirt brought out the warm colours on his face. He looked effortlessly charming. It was annoying, really.

“I guess I can,” you smiled back, no hint of hostility in your voice, “Thank you.”

He took his feet off of your bed and pretended to bow, “You are infinitely welcome.” You chuckled, shaking your head and turning away from him, continuing to suck on the candy. It was changing flavours the longer it was in your mouth; it was beginning to taste like lemon.

“I can bring you some more tomorrow,” he grinned, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets, “I need to meet up with George. Do you have a candy preference?”

You blinked up at him, “You’re coming back tomorrow?”

He shrugged before nodding, “Might as well. Gotta come see my favorite grouch.”

“Oh, shove off,” you scoffed, dropping your head. For some reason, him saying he was coming to see you tomorrow sent your heart into a jolt. You tried your best to brush it off, but as you glanced back up at him, the same thing happened. You suddenly felt awfully giddy.

“What kind of candy do you like?” he asked again, giving you a more serious look, “It’s the least I could do for not knocking the Bludger fast enough.”

You placed a finger to your chin and tapped, pondering over his question, “I like chocolate. But you already know that.”

He nodded curtly, taking a dramatic bow, “Chocolate it is.” You couldn’t hold back a laugh, covering your mouth and tossing your head back. Fred chuckled too, beginning to make his way towards the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he gave you a little wave, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, you git,” you replied with a grin, laughing slightly as you watched his lips curve upwards before he stepped outside of the Hospital Wing, closing the door quietly behind him.

Your smile fell as he left, bringing up the blanket to wrap around you, suddenly very aware of how alone you were in the room. Apart from Madam Pomfrey — who was reading a rather large book on the other side of the room. The silence was unnerving and you decided to just sleep it off.

You shut your eyes and let yourself fall into a deep, deep sleep.

——

“You’re joking!” you said through a mouthful of chocolate, your eyes wide.

“Nope,” Fred grinned, “Not joking.”

“How could you do that? You traumatized poor Ron for life,” you said, finally swallowing the chocolate in your mouth so you could breathe through your laughter. 

Fred shrugged, “He deserved it.”

You shot him a look, “He was six. I hardly believe he deserved it.” Popping another bit of chocolate frog into your mouth, you raised your eyebrows as if challenging him.

He let out a low chuckle before taking a bite of his own chocolate frog. True to his word, Fred had shown up that evening with a bag of Honeyduke’s sweets, splitting them into piles between the two of you. Madam Pomfrey was not exactly overjoyed by his appearance — considering his appearance came with noise and food — but she told him he was allowed in for two hours.

You were being discharged tomorrow, anyways. There was no use moping and sulking about with only one day left here. Classes would resume and things would go back to normal.

“You have chocolate on your nose,” he pointed to his own nose as he spoke. You flushed, quickly raising your hand to try and wipe it off.

“You missed,” he smirked, sitting up and leaning forwards, reaching his hand out to touch your nose. As he made contact, you cheeks became incredibly warm. You tried your best to brush it off, but as you looked up into his warm eyes, you couldn’t help it. He was gazing down at you, fingers trailing from your nose down to your jaw before he retracted his hand.

You let out a small cough, purposefully ruining the moment, “What are you looking at?”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s just — do you have to be so painfully beautiful?”

Although you were neither eating, nor drinking, you felt yourself choking on air. You averted your eyes away from him, looking at the ground for a good moment as your head wrapped around what he just said.

“Right,” you scoffed, cheeks burning, “I think you’re the one who hit your head.”

He let out an awkward chuckle as he leaned back in his chair, “Deny the compliment all you want. Doesn’t make it any less true, y’know.”

Why was Fred making you feel like this? Obnoxious, loud, arrogant, cocky Fred Weasley. Cute, charming, funny — no.

You couldn’t think of him that way. You had practically sworn to yourself that you’d never end up liking him. You couldn’t just change your morals now. Who does that?

“Thanks,” you muttered, fidgeting with your fingers under the blanket. You didn’t know what to say, you could barely muster the word ‘thanks’ in the first place.

It was odd. Just yesterday, you had snapped at him for being childish. For making a joke. But now, only a day later, you were here. Fighting back a grin and a blush at his compliment as he smirked over, clearly pleased by your reaction as he bit into another sweet.

Considering Fred hadn’t seemed to be your biggest fan either, you wondered why he suddenly felt open enough, confident enough, to compliment you so casually. What had changed? Why were the two of you so relaxed around each other?

Too swarmed with your own confusing thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed the two hours fly by. Fred left not long after, a smile on his face as he left his pile of candies behind for you.

Candies. That’s what was to blame. The sugar. That’s why your heart was violently beating against your ribcage, why your mind was fuzzy, why you had the urge to ask Fred to stay.

The candies were to blame. That’s the only reasonable explanation.

It had to be the candies.

——

The next few days went by in a blur. You were feeling back to normal, which you were awfully thankful for. Madam Pomfrey had fixed you up in a jiffy and sent you on you way after two days in the Wing being monitored closely under her watchful eye. She wasn’t impressed with how many chocolate frogs you had managed to eat, but she was glad you were healed and ready to take on the world again.

Ginny and Megan were glad to have you back — girls night just wasn’t the same without you, they said. And you were glad to see them again too. Although it was only two nights away, you had missed their company.

However, as glad as you were to no longer be confined to your tiny single bed, you felt as if you were missing something. You knew deep down you were missing Fred’s presence —even though you tried to deny it to yourself. He had been nice company while you were being healed and you kind of wished you could get some more alone time with him.

You had seen him around, sure. He was always there during meals and you’d come across him in the common room. Each time he’d send a smile your way and if you were lucky, he’d strike up a quick conversation after asking how you were feeling.

As much as you hated to admit it, you found yourself looking for him when he wasn’t around. You found yourself looking over anytime someone entered the room, hoping it would be him. You’d scan the hallways looking for his bright red hair —

“Looking for me?” a voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

Rather ironic, you thought as you looked up into Fred’s eyes, his head peeking over yours as you sat down for dinner.

“You wish,” you scoffed, fighting a blush that would give away the fact that yes, indeed, you were thinking of him. He didn’t need to know that, though. Would only boost his huge ego and no one wanted that.

“I always wish that,” he smirked as he sat down to your right. Oh, how you wished Fred was a lot less charming than he was. Damn him.

You reached across and grabbed some food, piling it onto your plate without another word. You could feel Fred’s eyes staring at you, your whole body felt like it was burning under his eyes.

“Stop staring,” you turned to face him with your eyebrow raised.

“Sorry,” he raised his hands, “Hard not to.”

You wanted to retaliate, but your voice was lost under Lee and Ginny giggling across from you. When had they even come in? Were they here the whole time? And why wasn’t George with Fred?

“Young love,” Lee clasped his hands and sighed, looking over to Ginny, “When will these two realize their feelings, Ginerva?”

Ginny batted her eyelashes in an equally dramatic manner, “Oh, I don’t know, Lee. Maybe they just need a push.”

Both you and Fred were glaring daggers at them. You hoped the stare you were giving Ginny would cause her to drop the subject, but clearly, it only egged her on. She sent you a wink, laughing as un-subtly as possible.

“Oi, no one asked for the two of you to pipe in,” Fred shot a look at Lee, also hoping to silencing his friend, his cheeks tinted with pink.

You looked away from Ginny, picking at your plate, embarrassed by the obvious attempt to get you and Fred to talk. Would you two even be compatible? 

Would the two of you be a good couple?

“I think we would,” Fred grinned, nudging you in the side.

You turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed, “We would what?”

“You asked if we would be a good couple,” his grin was taunting, his eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

“Did I — Melin, did I ask that aloud?” you asked, horrified and humiliated. There was no fighting the blush on your cheeks now. Oh, how you wished you could climb into a hole and completely disappear. 

“You did,” Fred scooted closer to you, “And might I add, it was rather cute. We would make an excellent couple, Y/N. You already love telling me off.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that, completely and utterly shocked that your mouth had the audacity to voice your thoughts without your permission. Why? Why did this have to happen to you?

Fred, noticing that you weren’t going to speak, decided to take initiative, “Well, since that’s all in the open, would you like to accompany me to Hogsmeade next weekend? As a date.”

You looked up to him, the blush now gone as your face lost colour, completely caught off guard. Fred was blunt, yes, but you didn’t think he’d actually ask you out. You figured this weird thing going on between you two was just due both of you feeling guilty? Was this even real?

Did you ever think you’d want to go on a date with Fred Weasley? Bloody hell, no. But now, did you want to go on a date with him? Of course you did. 

“I’d love to,” you replied quietly, not even sure you had said the words.

Fred’s beaming smile alerted you that he had heard you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and brought you close to him, but you were too starstruck by the idea of going on a date with him to retaliate.

He was warm, comforting, and you really did enjoy it.

“Go team,” Ginny grinned, fist-bumping an equally pleased looking Lee.

Fred leaned over with a wide smile and whispered in your ear, “Remember when you hated me?”

You scoffed, pulling away as a smile played at your lips, “Shove off, you git.”

—

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[stellarboystyles]

Make a Move

Harry’s a bartender and she’s a waitress, a match made in heaven. That is, if they weren’t constantly pining over each other like idiots.

4.2k !

She and Harry closed almost every weekend.

Why? Because there wasn’t really anyone else that was willing, so they’re always picking up slack. They were even more short staffed before Y/N came along, and given that she was the only waitress who actually gave a shit about her job, she was always the first choice whenever someone called in sick or quit unexpectedly, which, unfortunately for her, was quite often. Not that she’s complaining, because she and Harry always work the same shifts so it’s always fun. She was so kind to every customer but as soon as any of them were crossing a line she’d be the first one to tell them to back off. Harry was the best bartender on the strip, and everyone local knows it, too. Word travels fast, and his drinks speak for themselves. They make a great team. The rest of their co workers claim that the pair always get better tips, and even though they aren’t wrong, Harry and y/n like to indulge in the private joke that maybe if everyone else didn’t do their job half ass then maybe they’d get the tips that they get every night. Their boss is lucky to have both of them working for him. 

But Harry was just as lucky to be working there. 

That’s exactly what it was. Pure luck. 

When Harry’s mum Anne told her husband that she was pregnant with him, he promised her that he was going to change and be home more often, for them. And he kept his promise, for a while. Harry was such an easy baby, easy going and hardly ever cried. However, three months later things swiftly took a turn when she quickly realised that he was going to be a colicky baby. Seeing her little baby boy in pain, screaming and inconsolable just simply broke her heart, but it just meant that he needed a little more attention. She’d quickly learned his favorite remedy was a warm bath and a comfy swaddle, followed by some cuddles and he’d be right back off to sleep. She still thinks the reason that they’re still so close now is because of that extra bonding time. 

Harry’s dad had always been distant from him. He was never home, And when he was, he wanted Anne’s full attention, and when he wasn’t getting that anymore, because, you know, she was busy raising an infant by herself, he grew selfishly jealous of the child that he created. When he hit her in front of her son, that was it. She made the split decision that she didn’t want this life for Harry, or for her. She waited until he fell asleep that night, packed what she could, took her baby and left. Moved to London and never saw or heard from him again.

Harry was six years old when his mum first got sick. It started out as headaches and a fever that would come and go, but it got worse. To be specific, an autoimmune disease that was attacking her muscles and joints. It got so bad that she couldn’t even brush her hair, let alone take proper care of a six year old. Long story short, Harry learned quickly and at a young age how to take care of himself. when Harry wasn’t in school all he wanted to do was take care of her. He’d always wake up early on the weekends and make her second favorite breakfast...waffles. Her first favorite was pancakes, but he couldn’t make those, only because he knew that his mummy said the stove wasn’t safe and that he couldn’t use it by himself, because he could burn his fingers. 

Three years go by and things are really tough. Anne could no longer work, so without her knowledge, Harry began to improvise. He started selling some of his toys to his friends at school during playtime. By the time almost all of his toys were gone he’d managed to gain thirty five dollars, and he was so proud of himself. But when he saw one of the medical bills totals on the kitchen counter, he knew he was going to have to try something else. Every monday his mum gave him five dollars to pay for lunch at school for the whole week. So instead of eating lunch, he kept it in his backpack with the other thirty five. His friends always shared their lunch with him so that he wouldn’t go hungry all day, and no one ever found out. Week by week the amount seemed to add up quickly. Before he knew it it was the end of the school year he had one hundred and ninety five dollars. He counted it twice just to be sure, but it didn’t matter because it still wasn’t enough.

He was sad, extremely sad and angry. Three more years go by and his mum is in the hospital recovering from surgery. He couldn’t help feeling so many things all at once. His mum was his best friend, why on earth was this happening to her, to him? 

One afternoon Harry was walking home from school. It was gloomy and dreary, typical London weather. He wanted to get home faster so he could get to the hospital to see her, so he chose to make a quick shortcut down an alley to his left. As he walked he noticed a group of boys older than him, maybe fourteen or fifteen, on the side of the alley. Before he could turn around or walk past them, of course, they surrounded him. It felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

He was getting jumped.

“I-I haven’t got anything.”

One of them held his arms in a tight grasp whilst another one yanked the backpack off his shoulders, dumping the contents, including the wads of cash, onto the asphalt.

“Ooh, what do we have here?”

Harry’s eyes instantly widened, struggling with all the strength in his body, desperately trying to get free. He couldn’t let them do this.

“No! Please, please don’t. I’ll do anything you want, but I need that money!”

“So do we.”

A fist landed against his cheek and before he knew it he was on the ground being beaten senseless.

“It’s not for me!” he tried, throwing his hands up in front of his face in an attempt to defend himself. “It’s for my mum, she’s sick.”

“Hey! How many times have I told you to quit causin’ trouble back ‘ere?!”

Harry was wide eyed as he saw a man, probably a store owner since he came around the back corner. They quickly ran off empty handed. The man’s face changed from angry to bewildered as he saw Harry’s face.

And as if on fucking cue, it started to rain. Pour, actually.

“No, no, no…”

Harry scrambles to his knees and crawls forward, trying to salvage the dampened green paper, shoving it back into his backpack.

“Are you alright?!”

That was the moment that Harry’s life changed forever. 

The man, who Harry quickly learned was named Joe, did more than just clean up the young boy’s bloody face. They started talking and Harry told him everything. About his father, the piling medical bills, everything—and in that moment Joe knew he had to help him. 

Every day after that, after school Harry would go to Joe’s bar and work for him. Small jobs—sweep the floor, clean the tables, things like that. He took Harry in, looked after him when his mum couldn’t and gave him advice like the father he’d never had. 

The day Harry turned seventeen was the day his mum was officially in remission. Harry had been saving every single penny he’d made over the last five years, which was enough to really help out with their situation until his mum could go back to work. He was over the moon, he didn’t think he’d ever see the day that she’d be feeling like herself again. 

Harry didn’t really plan on going to college because even if his mum was better, he always wanted to be able to visit and check on her. After he graduated, he moved into the apartment upstairs above the bar, and the rest is history.

And that leads us to now. Four years later at twenty one Harry is everyone’s favorite bartender, who's crushing hard on this truly one of a kind girl that walked into his life only a few months ago, and he can’t remember what life was like without her in it. 

Despite how the job sounds, they both loved every second of it. Especially when they worked together. When they weren’t busy, they were constantly messing with each other, usually it was him teasing her whenever she tripped over her own feet, almost spilling a plate or glass and when she’d come back behind the bar he’d be smirking “y’not drunk are yeh?” and she’d mumble a “shut up.” making him chuckle. 

But they were incredibly soft for each other, there was no way around it. 

One time, Harry called in sick, and if he would’ve seen the look of disappointment mixed with sadness on her face, he might have just said fuck it and came in to work just to make her happy or at least see her smile, despite the food posioning. 

That’s what she did to him. All rationale was lost, even if it was just for a moment. 

When he came back, his co-workers filled him in, telling him that she was all sad and pouting through the whole shift. It made his heart ache, made him want to kiss the pout right off her lips, 

because her lips were so pretty. 

But it also made his heart beat a little faster. 

He caught himself staring more and more as the months went by, their friendship torturing him day by day. It was truly a sick joke—being her friend but not being able to feel her soft skin under his touch, kiss her anywhere, anytime he wanted. 

Was this karma? What did he do to deserve this?

He’s never been a day dreamer, until now. She’s in his head all the time and he can’t stop thinking about what his life would be like if he could just muster up enough confidence to tell her that he loves the way she pushes her hair behind her ears, or how he’s been dying to kiss her since she walked in the door on her first day. 

He remembers that day like it was yesterday. 

***

Harry was wiping down the bar, cell phone cradled between his ear and shoulder as he listened to his boss tell him about his newest hire being a new waitress.

“Hope this one sticks.” he mumbled, a small smirk appearing on his face as he dried off the inside of one of the glasses. “M’not gettin’ paid to wait tables, Joe.”

“Oh piss off, I’m payin’ you more than that.” a laugh was shared between the two before he continued.

“She’s already been trained, but it’s her first day by herself, so be nice.”

“M’always nice. It’s those other vultures you’ve got to worry about.” 

Harry wasn’t exaggerating. The other waitresses were like wild animals, they’d either attack you or try to have sex with you. 

“Just look out for her, will you? Don’t want her bein’ eaten alive on her first day and then she’s too scared to come back.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, I’ll keep y’updated. Have fun on your holiday.”

“Thanks again for taking care of everything, I really appreciate it.”

“S’the least I could do after all you’ve done for me.” the humor in his voice slowly faded, his tone becoming more serious.

Don’t get soft on me now.” his response to Harry’s sentiment makes him chuckle.

“Okay, okay. But m’serious, don’ know where I’d be without your help.”

When he hung up the phone, as if on fucking cue, he hears the front door open. 

***

Everything about her was perfect. Her hair looked like silk, even if it was tied back while she was working with some baby hairs falling around her face. Her skin was flawless—he loves it when she doesn’t wear any makeup, like today. He found her rosy cheeks and naturally long eyelashes to be undeniably adorable. 

“H?” 

His head snapped up at her voice. It was sweet, like the sugar he always puts on the rim of her glass when he makes her mojitos some nights after they close up. Harry thinks he’d do anything she wanted if she asked him nicely.

“Earth to Harry.” she jokingly waves her hand in front of his face. “It’s almost two.”

“Oh, shit. Wasn’t even lookin’ a’ the time.” he chuckled. “Thanks, love.”

“No problem.” Her cheeks were splashed with pink, looking at her shoes before turning to walk away. 

To this day, Harry doesn’t know what on earth possessed him to do this. But for some reason, three words popped into his head.

Make a move.

“Hey.” he stops her from walking away by taking her hand and pulling her towards him.

“What?” she giggles as she turns her head to look at him. 

“C’mere.”

The look on his face was giving her butterflies. He blinked slowly, a small smile curved across his lips.

“Got a new drink idea, can I try it out on ya?”

She lets out a nervous giggle before nodding her head. 

She felt like an idiot because she really thought that he was going to kiss her. She wanted to feel his lips on her lips, her skin. And god, did he want to kiss her. He felt like an idiot because that wasn’t really a move. He wanted to kiss her, so fucking bad but he got nervous. How couldn’t he? She was his friend, and so, so beautiful. What if she didn’t want to be more than friends? It was a scary thought, rejection. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin their friendship, he cared about her too much to ruin that. Wouldn’t it be awkward, if things didn’t work out, or she didn’t want him in the first place, and they still had to work together? Harry just might have to crawl under a rock.

But she wore her heart on her sleeve, so she couldn’t really hide the sadness in her eyes as her gaze fell to her hands as he was mixing the contents that were going to go in the lowball glass. It pained him to see her anything but her usual bubbly, sweet self. 

“S’wrong?” Harry frowned, but she shook her head. 

“Nothin’. Just waiting on you, like always.”

His mouth fell open at your accusation. 

“Since when?” he scoffs. “M’always waitin’ on you.”

“When?” she challenges, eyebrows furrowing.

Harry playfully rolls his eyes. “When we were goin’ t’that festival, or anytime we do somethin’ outside of work, yeh always take forever to get ready.”

Because she wanted to look super cute for you, you idiot. 

“I messed up my makeup, okay? Gimme a break.”

She’s sitting on the bar stool and he’s behind the bar, leaning onto his elbows and stopping what he’s doing to look at her.

“Y’dont need tha’ stuff.” 

She gives him a sheepish smile, but Harry’s not having any of it. 

Here goes nothing. 

“Hey.” he reaches over and puts a hand under her chin, finger brushing the skin of her jaw and his touch gives her butterflies. “Look a’ me?”

Her eyes flicker up to meet his, earning a smile on his pink lips. 

“S’true. You’re beautiful and you don’t need it, okay?”

A soft smile graced her lips, making his small smile wider. “Okay, okay.”

“Alright, here.” he slid the glass across the bar top towards her. She takes a sip and her eyes light up, making his do the same.

“Mmm, it’s so good!” she looks up at him, eyes widening, making him laugh. 

She loved his laugh. 

“Know you like to start off with the fruity stuff.” 

“Careful.” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “I know how much you love those cranberry vodkas.”

“And they’re delicious. Especially mine.”

“Definitely yours.” her comment makes Harry giggle, looking at his hands and you’re positive it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. He looks at her, flicking his head.

“C’mere, I’ll show yeh how t’make one.”

Her whole face lights up. “Really?” and her excitement is so adorable he can’t help but mirror her expression with a laugh.

“Mhm, c’mon.”

She’s standing behind the bar and Harry’s standing behind her, showing her the ropes, as he called it. But when she felt his chest pressed against her back as he went through the steps, she could no longer focus on anything he was saying, which worked in his favor because he stumbled across his words quite a bit at the feeling. They were physically closer than they’ve ever been and she smelled so fucking good. He rests his head on her left shoulder, gripping the bar top in front of her. 

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, and he finally speaks up. 

“Wanna try?”

He picks up the lowball glass, bringing it up to her lips. He moves his hand, tilting the drink to meet your lips. The interaction was so intimate, and you could feel his breath on your ear.

“Good?”

His voice was deeper, sending shivers down her spinal cord. She nods and he moves beside her, (much to her disappointment) and leans one of his elbows onto the surface beside him. She turns to him, and takes the glass out of his grasp as he’s taking a sip. 

“S’not nice!” he laughs as she takes a drink, giggling as he gets in her face.

“S’your turn to make me a drink now.”

One hour later and she was three drinks in, which meant that she was on the verge of drunk. She made him two replicas of the cocktail he’d helped her make just before, and he claimed that hers were just as good, but she still wasn’t too sure if he was letting her win or not. She wasn’t drunk, though. 

“Promise me.” 

“I promise.” the smirk sliding up his lips told a different story. 

“Liar!” she giggled, and she tries to walk towards him but her legs betray her as she trips over her own sneakers and falls into his chest. 

“Okay, you’re drunk.” he confirms with a chuckle, catching her by her forearms helping her to stand again. 

“M’not drunk, shoelace is untied.” she tries to lift up her leg to show him the definitely loose laces, but she loses her balance and nearly falls onto the wood floor, and if Harry hadn’t grabbed her hand when he did she would’ve definitely had a sore backside. 

“Maybe I am drunk.” she mumbles, pouting when she hears his chuckle. “Not funny, H.”

His stomach drops when he sees that she’s looking right at him with tears threatening to spill onto her soft cheeks. 

“No, m’sorry love. Didn’t mean it, okay? Promise.” He uses his thumb to brush the skin just under her eye. “Please, don’t cry.”

The rest of the tears subside at Harry’s comforting gesture. They stood like that for a while, eye contact refusing to break before she spoke up. 

“Do you like me?”

Did she really just say that? Was he that drunk? He was definitely more than tipsy, but did she really just say that?! Was he dreaming? Please let this not be a dream. 

His heart thumped in his chest when her fingers started playing with his. 

“Now what’s not to like about you, darlin’?”

That’s sweet, but not what I asked, she thinks to herself.

She could not believe the level of bravery in her blood right now. She wasn’t even that drunk and words that she thought she would never say were spilling out. 

As she was about to respond, she lets out a yawn, her previous thoughts quickly slipping her mind.

“Tired?’ he questions as he cocks his head to the side, a grin sliding up his lips.

“Mhm. Still need to walk home.” she frowns and his eyes go wide.

“Can’t let y’walk home alone-”

“I do it every other night.” she protests, clearly getting frustrated.

The thought of her walking back to her apartment alone at 3 am, sober or not, made his stomach turn. He ignores her attempt at convincing him that she’s fine, because there is no way he’s letting this happen.

“ Y’can stay with me? S’just upstairs.” 

His voice was quiet and it took a moment for her to register what he’d said. 

“Wait, what d’you mean upstairs?”

“There’s a flat upstairs, s’mine.”

The confusion on her face made his heart want to melt.

“C’mon, I’ll carry you.” 

She feels another yawn coming and he picks her up—one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back. She lays her head on his shoulder, and he’s so warm—she can’t help but nuzzle her face into his neck and he thinks he could very well pass out, but he won’t, because he’s holding her, obviously. 

He sets her down onto his bed, and tells her she can pick whatever looks comfy from his dresser to wear as pj’s. 

“M’gonna go get some water, okay? Be right back, love.”

She picks out a stones t-shirt and changes into that because honestly, it’s one of the first things she sees and it smells like him and she’s tired.

He comes back upstairs and she’s laying down on his dark sheets, her back to him with her hair fanned out on his pillow. He walks around to the other side and sits down next to her. She feels the bed dip, opens one eye and pouts when she sees the water bottle in his hand.

“I know love, just drink some for me? Y’know it’ll make you feel better tomorrow.”

He encourages her to sit up and he doesn’t let her lay back down until she’s had at least half, and then covers her up with his blanket before 

“I’ll just be on the sofa. If y’need anything in the middle of the night let me know, alright?”

“No, stay.”

His breath hitched inside his throat. He swallowed thickly before replying.

“You want me to stay?”

She nods. “Don’t leave me.”  

She wants him to stay.

“I won’t, s’alright.”

After a small freak out episode in the bathroom while he changed, he gets into bed next to you.

Harry always had trouble falling asleep, but tonight it only took a few minutes and he was softly snoring into his pillow.

The light peeking through the curtains was what slowly pulled her out of sleep. 

“G’mornin’ sleepyhead.”

She couldn’t help the lazy smile across her lips, letting out a giggle as she stretched.

“What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. Do you want somethin’ to eat?”

“Can I have some waffles?”

So, he made her some waffles. Some for him too. Harry didn’t have a dining table so he insisted she stay put while he make them breakfast in bed. He watches her take her first bite and he swears that this is the moment when he truly fell in love with her.

“Mmmm.” she hums, eyes closed with a dopey, syrupy smile across her lips. “So good.”

The reaction made him quite literally crack up laughing, because those waffles were from his bloody freezer and she was acting like Harry had just ordered room service to their hotel room in Paris. 

He’d take her to Paris.

“So, how’d you end up living here?” she wondered out loud, breaking Harry out of his daydream.

He proceeded to tell her everything. About his piece of shit dad, his mum getting sick, getting jumped, and how Joe took Harry in and was the father he’d never had. When he’s finished, her hand is on the back of his neck pulling him into a protective hug, lightly toying with his hair.

“I’m so sorry, H.”

Her voice is just above a whisper and it makes Harry’s eyelashes flutter.

She pulls away and they instantly find each other’s eyes. He gives her a small smile, as if to say, it’s okay.

She looks at him with doe eyes and he can’t help but reach over and pushes her hair behind one of her ears, the space in between their faces becoming smaller and smaller, until his nose brushes hers. 

“Can I kiss you?”

She gives him a small nod.

He cautiously presses his lips to hers. The kiss is everything both of them have ever dreamed of and so much more. Her hand is still on the back of his neck and he’s moved to cradle her cheeks in his hands, and they fit perfectly.

Neither of you want the kiss to end, both of them breathless as Harry’s forehead is pressed against hers.

“I really, really like you, had feelings for you for a long time.” you heart flutters in your chest at his sweet words. He felt like he couldn’t breathe as he waited for you to say something, anything.

“I really, really like you too.”

This is my baby, be nice to her. I’ve pulled many all nighters to make this as close to perfect as it can be so I hope you love it <3

Thank you to @oh-honey-styles​ , @for-fucks-sake-h​ and @andwhenshesays​ for putting this Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge together, I’m so glad I could be a part of it!

BIG THANKS to my babies @goldenfeelin​ , @bfharry​ and @avhrodite​ for truly hyping me up and being so supportive, I love you. <3

[wordsintimeandspace]

Better With You (6/6)

Due to a petty feud between their respective department heads, Crowley and Aziraphale have been hiding their friendship for months. When they’re suddenly stuck in lockdown amidst a pandemic, Crowley is not coping well. Thankfully, Aziraphale is there for him - but their changing relationship means that keeping secrets from their bosses only becomes more of a challenge.

Crowley/Aziraphale, rated M (for chapter 4). Read on tumblr or AO3.

Crowley let out a long breath as he logged out of the last video conference of the week and closed his laptop. They had made it. A whole week of hiding and lying and deceiving, and all of it had paid off. They’d managed to keep their secret. Most of the week had gone by smoothly, after their rough start on Monday, but Crowley was still relieved. He hadn’t been able to shake the residual anxiety of being discovered completely, especially since Hastur kept pestering him about his secret boyfriend. Crowley wasn’t sure what pissed him off more - the invasive questions or that Hastur was actually right for once.

A knock on the door made Crowley look up, and he smiled as he took in Aziraphale standing in the doorframe.

“All done?” Aziraphale asked, answering Crowley’s smile with a blinding one of his own, as if they hadn’t seen each other all day instead of spending over an hour in an awkward video conference with Gabriel and Beelzebub earlier.

Crowley nodded and stretched his hands over his head, making his spine pop. “Yeah. Last bits of software testing done, documentation written, project successfully deployed to the client.”

Aziraphale crossed the room to wrap his arms around Crowley’s shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Very good.”

“How about you?”

“I’m on call for the rest of the day, but unless there’s any problems I’m all ready for the weekend.”

“Good. Do you still want to join me when I stop by my place?”

“Yes. If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Angel.” Crowley glanced up at him, covering Aziraphale’s hands on his shoulders with his own. “Course I do.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were gleaming, filled with tenderness. “Good. Are you hungry? We could order dinner before we leave, or wait until we’re back.”

“Not really,” Crowley admitted. He grinned up at Aziraphale. “You’re still keeping me well fed with all your baked goods. Terrible for my blood sugar, you are.”

“You don’t have to eat them, you know,” Aziraphale scoffed.

“Can’t let them go bad, can I? Would be such a waste of food.”

Aziraphale’s lips twitched. “How kind of you to make this sacrifice. Come on then,” he said as he pulled Crowley to his feet. “Let’s go water your plants before I change my mind.”

~~~

It felt strange, to step back into his dimly lit flat. It had only been a week since he’d been there, but the dark, sparsely furnished corridor was such a stark contrast to Aziraphale’s cluttered and welcoming space that it almost felt like he was entering a stranger’s home instead of his own. Crowley let out a shuddering breath, nervously fiddling with the keys in his hand before stepping aside to let Aziraphale in as well.

The door fell shut behind them with a heavy thud. Quietly, Aziraphale let his gaze wander over the blank walls. “Oh, it’s, err… nice,” he eventually said, but Crowley could see the crease on his face even in the dim light.

Crowley snorted. “No it’s not, you don’t have to pretend. Come on.”

He led Aziraphale through the corridor into the main part of the flat, his steps echoing from the walls. He ignored both the living room and the bedroom as they passed it, mind focused only on the sole thing he had missed during his week at Aziraphale’s place.

The evening sun fell through the high windows of the plant room, painting the room in golden light. Crowley smiled as he took in the comforting sight of his plants and the familiar smell of soil. He held open the door for Aziraphale, gesturing him to step inside first.

“Ohh,” Aziraphale breathed out in wonder as he slowly wandered into the room. “Oh, Crowley, they’re beautiful.”

The praise ran down Crowley’s spine like a shiver. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he took in Aziraphale, his eyes gleaming as sunlight danced over his cheeks. Aziraphale stepped closer to a monstera that grew high towards the ceiling, and brushed his fingers over a leaf with such a gentleness that Crowley felt a short, irrational pang of jealousy.

“They could do better,” he hissed as he stepped at Aziraphale’s side, squinting at the plant. “I see some drooping leaves. I will not stand for drooping leaves.”

“Oh, do be nice to them,” Aziraphale protested. “It’s a hard time for all of us.”

“There are leaf spots, angel. They know exactly what I think about leaf spots.”

Aziraphale tutted. “I’m sure they’re trying their best. Just like we all do. They just need a bit of love and support, and they will be right as rain.”

Crowley felt Aziraphale’s eyes on him, even as he couldn’t bring himself to look at him. Suddenly, he had the unsettling feeling they weren’t just talking about the bloody monstera Aziraphale was still petting. He let out a strangled sound from the back of his throat.

“Water,” he croaked out. “I’ll get some water.” And with that, he grabbed the plant mister and the watering can and stormed out of the room.

Aziraphale was still tending to the plants when he came back, murmuring something under his breath that Crowley couldn’t quite make out. Slowly, he wandered around the room to check on each plant, testing the soil and watering them, searching each leaf for any sign of damage, gently spraying them with water until they were shining in the golden evening light. Most of the plants were in good condition, as lush and beautiful as ever, but a few of them were a little limper than he’d like. He tried to swallow his bad conscience for abandoning them in such a hurry for a whole week.

“I think I’ll have to check on them a little more often,” Crowley said eventually, breaking the companionable silence between them. “Can’t trust these buggers to stay in line without me.”

“You could just move them to my place,” Aziraphale suggested, and Crowley froze in the middle of misting a ficus. He turned to Aziraphale, eyes wide.

“What?” he croaked out.

Aziraphale startled, as if he was only now realizing what he’d said. A blush crept onto his cheeks “I, oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t just presume,” he stammered. “I just thought, well, that what we’re doing might be a long-term solution. I’m sorry. You don’t have to stay indefinitely of course, I’d understand if you’d want to go back to your flat once they lift some of the restrictions, or even before that-”

“Angel,” Crowley interrupted him. “Why the hell would I want to do that?”

Aziraphale let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I don’t know. Not getting on your nerves yet, am I?”

Crowley laughed. “No. Course not. Am I?”

“Definitely not.”

Grinning, Crowley set down the plant mister and stepped closer to Aziraphale. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

Aziraphale huffed. “I was under the impression that I had already done it one week ago.”

Affection bloomed in Crowley’s chest, so sweet it was almost suffocating, and he crossed the last distance between them in two long strides. Cupping Aziraphale’s face in his hands, he pressed his lips down to Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale’s arms were around his waist in just an instant. He angled his head, making it easier for them to slide their lips together, and let out a happy sigh against Crowley’s lips.

No matter how many times they had kissed over the last week, this kind of contact still sent a thrill through Crowley. He felt utterly and completely addicted to Aziraphale’s gentle touch, to his soft lips and his strong arms around him. Crowley had lost track of how many hours they had spent like this already, kissing just for the kissing’s sake, to be close to each other and to explore each other’s lips, instead of taking it as a first step to something more. Aziraphale had been more than happy to let Crowley set the pace over the week, never pushing, never asking for more, but tonight Crowley craved more contact. Aziraphale’s body suddenly couldn’t be close enough.

Carefully, without ever breaking the kiss, Crowley steered Aziraphale through the room until his back hit the window. Aziraphale let out a gasp of surprise, but readily adjusted his stance so that Crowley could step between his legs and press him against the glass properly. Crowley groaned at the friction, pulling away from Aziraphale’s lips only to pepper kisses along his jaw and down his neck. He was just loosening the bow tie to get better access when he was startled by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

He let out another groan, an exasperated one this time, and pressed his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck as he waited for the irritating caller to give up.

“Don’t you want to take this?” Aziraphale asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

“No. Ignore it,” Crowley mumbled, once again tugging at Aziraphale’s bow tie. But as soon as he finally got it off him, they were interrupted by Aziraphale’s shrill ringtone. Crowley startled at the sudden noise, jumping a step back. A pained expression crossed Aziraphale’s face as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Let me just turn this off and we can- oh.”

“What?” Crowley frowned as he watched Aziraphale’s face turn white.

“It’s Gabriel. I need to call back.”

Before he could, Crowley’s phone vibrated again. He swore under his breath as he dug it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. His stomach dropped as he saw who it was. Beelzebub.

He raised head to meet Aziraphale’s worried gaze.

“Shit.”

“Do you think they know?” Aziraphale asked, his voice wavering.

“I don’t know,” Crowley admitted, reaching out to squeeze Aziraphale’s hand. “But it’s gonna be okay, angel. We’re in this together, yeah?”

A small smile appeared on Aziraphale’s lips. “Yes. Together,” he said, squeezing Crowley’s hand in return.

~~~

To Crowley’s relief, Gabriel and Beelzebub had not called to confront them both with their fraternizing. Not that it mattered. The alternative didn’t seem much better, Crowley had to admit. Maybe he would be transferred to Siberia after all.

“... not sure yet what the exact problem was, but the setup of our software crashed their entire server,” Gabriel explained, the tension on his face clear even through the small screen and the blurry camera. “It’s all down, even their website. They’re trying to restart the main server right now.”

“I don’t know how that could have happened!” Crowley protested, panic rising in his chest. “We did all the required software tests. Dagon approved my code, for fucks sake. This shouldn’t be possible.”

“It doesn’t matter how,” Beelzebub hissed, making Crowley flinch. He was glad he wasn’t in the same room with them, but their irritation made his skin crawl even from the distance. “It only matters that we find the bug and fix it. And hope there isn’t some irreversible data loss.”

“Don’t they have a backup? Or set up their server permissions properly? Even if there is a problem in the code, they should have security measures to make sure a stupid piece of software doesn’t just melt their whole IT infrastructure.”

“We’re not sure what their internal IT did. We’re trying to get a hold on them,” Aziraphale said. He nervously wrung his hands in front of his belly. “It’s proving to be a little difficult. They’re busy with getting things running again.”

“Even if part of the problem is on their side, it’s still our job to fix this,” Gabriel continued with a pained expression on his face. “This is one of our most important customers. We can’t afford to lose them over this, not in the current economy.”

Crowley groaned, letting his head loll back. “Great. Fucking fantastic.”

“Crowley, calm down,” Beelzebub snapped, glaring at him. “I’m waiting for a call from our system administration to see if they can help, but in the meantime, stop whining and make yourself useful. Double-check the code. Triple-check it, if necessary.”

Crowley took a deep breath. All he wanted was to sink into Aziraphale’s arms, at least for a moment until he felt calm enough to face this mess. But with Gabriel and Beelzebub watching, it didn’t matter that Aziraphale was just in the other room. He might as well be miles away. Aziraphale’s frown grew more and more concerned as Crowley struggled to answer, so he forced himself to put on a brave face.

“Okay,” he breathed out, pulling up the code to get to work.

Crowley had barely started when the ringtone of a phone sounded over the speaker, the sudden noise making him jump. He switched back to the video conference just in time to see Gabriel snatch up a phone, frowning at the screen.

The next moments felt like a dream, or a hallucination maybe, so bizarre that Crowley’s brain struggled to keep up and understand what was really happening. He watched as Gabriel let out a sigh. “System administration,” he said, and Crowley had barely time to wonder why they would call Gabriel instead of Beelzebub when both of them reached out at the same time. He couldn’t see the brush of hands, but he doubted he would believe it even if he could. He already struggled to wrap his head around the fact that Beelzebub suddenly had the phone in their hand, picking up before bringing it to their ear.

Crowley stared, his mouth hanging open. He was vaguely aware that Aziraphale stared as well. Beelzebub got up and walked away from the conference as they took the call, shortly appearing in the background of Gabriel’s video before vanishing out of sight. Gabriel seemed unbothered, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

Aziraphale was the first to break the silence. “But- I mean… what? Gabriel?” he stammered.

Gabriel looked up into the camera. “Yes?”

“How- why- I mean… are you two in the same room?”

“Of course.” Gabriel laughed, as if the idea wasn’t just completely bonkers. Crowley still couldn’t bring his face to work properly, let alone form any coherent words. “We have been since lockdown started. Didn’t you notice?”

Aziraphale only gaped at him. Crowley finally managed to regain control of his features and snapped his mouth shut. “But… you hate each other,” he exclaimed after Gabriel didn’t elaborate.

Gabriel shrugged. “Well. Only sometimes. Not generally.”

“Then what is this… this thing,” Crowley protested, gesturing wildly in an attempt to encompass the peculiarity that was Gabriel and Beelzebub. “Whatever it is that you’re usually doing? That thing where you look like you want to tear each other apart in every single meeting?”

“Oh, that’s nothing serious.” Gabriel shot them a toothy smile and, to Crowley’s utter horror, winked at them. “A little workplace rivalry can do wonders to keep a relationship exciting, let me tell you.”

“Relationship?!” Aziraphale cried out, suddenly thrown out of his stupor.

Gabriel let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do you think we’re spending lockdown together, Aziraphale?”

“But… relationships in the company are forbidden! It says so in the policies!” Aziraphale protested.

“That only applies to an employee and their supervisor within the same department. You know, to prevent any abuse of power. Have you actually read the policies?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to reply, but snapped it shut before any sound left his throat. All the colour drained from his face.

Crowley could only stare at him. He had never bothered to read the blasted policies. He’d always taken Aziraphale’s word for it. “You haven’t?! Honestly?” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“I thought you did!” Aziraphale cried. ”It was you who brought it up the first time, wasn’t it?”

“No! Definitely wasn’t me!” Crowley yelled. Only then, in the silence that followed, did he realize what they’d just admitted. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach twisting in anxiety, but instead of looking surprised, or angry even, Gabriel only laughed.

“You thought this was forbidden? Really? Is that why you’re pretending you’re not in the same place?”

“We’re not, we’re-” Crowley stammered, at a loss of words. Heat rushed to his cheeks. “You knew?!”

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are. Not with the way you’ve both been looking at each other for months.”

“But… you could have told us!” Aziraphale protested, the colour slowly returning to his face.

Gabriel barked out another laugh. “What, and disturb whatever Romeo and Juliet reenactment you had going on? Please. It kept the office entertained and the attention away from Bee and me. Do you know there’s a betting pool on when you’ll finally get together? I think I’m about to win fifty quid.”

Crowley sagged in his chair, not sure what else to say. Aziraphale seemed at a loss of words as well. They were both saved from coming up with a response when Beelzebub suddenly reappeared.

Beelzebub took in the awkward silence and Gabriel’s amused smile. “What happened?” they buzzed.

“Nothing,” Crowley said quickly, not very keen to discuss their relationship any further. “What did they say?”

Beelzebub blinked, not looking convinced, but didn’t press the issue. “The system administration people had a look at the logs, and they think it was a problem with how computing resources were allocated on the client’s system, together with a memory leak caused by a different program. The setup of our software was just the last straw for their already overwhelmed system. They’re sending someone over to help sort this out.”

Crowley let out a long breath. “Nothing wrong with our software, then?”

“Probably not,” Beelzebub buzzed, before fixing Crowley with another stern glare. “I still want another code review before they try to set it up again. But that can wait until next week.”

They finally said their goodbyes, both Crowley and Aziraphale still quiet and trying to avoid Gabriel’s smug smile. As soon as he had closed the video conference, Crowley sagged in his chair. He felt tired, all of a sudden, and angry, just a little bit, that all this worrying had been for nothing. But most of all he felt relief. He got to his feet on shaking legs to get to the kitchen, only to run into Aziraphale right in the corridor. They silently looked at each other for a moment before Crowley lunged forward.

“I’m mad at you,” he groaned, even as he buried his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Honestly. I can’t believe you.”

Aziraphale held him close, his arms around Crowley’s shoulders and his nose pressed into his hair. “It was both our fault, really.”

“Was it?! You honestly expected me to read the blasted policies?”

“Yes. Well.” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “You could at least have double-checked what I was saying.”

Crowley only grumbled in response.

“Crowley, do you realize what this means?”

“What?”

Aziraphale pulled back, enough to cup Crowley’s face in his hands and kiss him long and deep before speaking. “We’re free to be together in any way we want to, without consequences, without repercussions. I can talk about you, call you my partner, without worrying who might hear. I get to hold your hand, and I get to kiss you, without worrying who might see. I don’t have to hide my affection. I could tell the whole world how much I love you.”

Crowley’s breath hitched. Tears burned in his eyes as he held Aziraphale’s gaze, drowning in his gleaming eyes, oh so blue and filled to the brim with affection. “I love you too,” he croaked out, and Aziraphale’s answering smile was bright like a star. He pressed his lips back down onto Crowley’s, passionate and hungry in a way that made Crowley’s head swim. For a second Crowley feared his legs would give out, but Aziraphale held him close, held him upright, just like he had done over the past week after it had felt like Crowley’s entire world had crumbled around him.

“Angel?” he murmured between kisses, as they slowly moved towards the bedroom.

“Yes, my darling?” Aziraphale purred as he led Crowley inside, coming to a stop beside the bed.

“I’m just- I’m just so glad you’re here,” Crowley gasped. “That I’m not alone anymore in all this mess.“

“Like you said earlier, we’re in this together, ” Aziraphale said softly, smiling brightly as he steered Crowley down onto the mattress. And Crowley let himself fall, closing his eyes, knowing that he would be caught, would be taken care of.

[hobotalesaus]

Episode 3: A Hesitating Pulse Is Good Company

I still remember the first time I came to Melbourne; I was about 18. Everything was foreign and weird and busy and sunny. ‘People are strange, when you're a stranger. Faces look ugly, when you're alone.’ I ended up in Collingwood, another planet to me back then. I found solace in a corner pub. The porch light was on and it was the closest thing to home as I could find. 

Living in the big smoke isn't for everyone, but certain people just fucking thrive. Jay is one of those people. Totally sober in the spot he lives, figuratively speaking. When I first met the bloke, he showed me through his place in his moccasins (yeah I remember mate) and pointed out different pieces of art, memorabilia, just stuff. The stuff that we fill our spaces with because we love looking at it and it's a puzzle of what makes us, ‘us’. This was the shit that he loves and you could see it straight away. Outside, there was this faint buzz of the city, with a heartbeat and tyre noise and the smell of god knows what. Maybe a police siren or some shit. It reminded me of a song, with the line "A hesitating pulse is good company". If I was to sum up Collingwood, especially in that house on that day, it would be with that line. "A hesitating pulse is good company". 

Firstly, Jay is a bloody good bloke. My old man would always tell me the best way to approach somebody is like this: If you think you're a good fella, I do too, until you prove me wrong. Something tells me that Jay hasn't proven anyone wrong. 

Knowing this about him, we approached Jay recently about doing a story and he was more than happy to go with it, which actually sort of posed a problem; he's got so many fucking things on the go, and is equally good at all of them, that we were hard pressed to make room for it all. But we'll give it a red hot crack anyway. 

Born in the early 90s, Jay spent most of his time as a young fella riding BMX like most of us did. Outside til dark, jumping kerbs, ruining your shoes by putting them in between the forks and the front tyre. Yeah we all did it. "How do you keep ruining your shoes so quickly??" the words rang out across the house and you knew you were about to get whooped. Street Sharks on the telly, poster of Matt Hoffman on the bedroom wall. How good was that? Then the natural transition (as if that isn't the best fucking pun I've ever heard) to skateboarding. "The first skate video I ever saw was a FLIP SORRY part. That got me so pumped up to go skate, the whole soundtrack and attitude was surreal! Skateboarding basically consumed my life from then all the way up til now," he says, and yeah, it fucking shows. "I tell you what, I had a few Margera decks growing up. But Geoff Rowley stood out for me, and still influences me for sure, even to this day."

There's always been this weird connection between skating and motorcycles; we're not talking your $40,000 BMW touring bike or your Hyabusa. We're talking about Triumphs, Harleys, chopped up Honda's. Making noise and pissing people off. Literally giving the finger to anyone who gives you that greasy look. "I got into motorcycles when I was about 21 or 22, after a trip to the US. All I'd ever wanted to do was go to the U.S and skate all the spots I'd seen in the videos. I had organized with a friend from Geroa (check a map) to head over; his old lady owned a condo in Oceanside, Cali. They were kind enough to invite me over to stay." 

“We're talking about Triumphs, Harleys, chopped up Honda's. Making noise and pissing people off. Literally giving the finger to anyone who gives you that greasy look”

"I took some photos of that chopper on this 35mm Minolta 201 I got for $30 on eBay.”

"So there we are at a skate park in California, and a mate of Ray's rolled up on this bad-ass cone Shovel chopper that he built himself. I didn't grow up around parents or a cool uncle who rode motorcycles, so when I was confronted with this dirty, leaky machine, I was fascinated. No foot pegs, looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the 80s. We were in the car on highway, watching him haul ass, weaving in and out of lanes, skateboard strapped to the sissy bar. That was it for me" he says, and you know that you had the same moment at some point in your life where you went "Yep, that's what I'm all about". He continues, "I took some photos of that chopper on this 35mm Minolta 201 I got for $30 on eBay. Turned out the mechanism to eject the film was broken so I lost it all. Still have the memories though. I came home to Australia and maybe a month later I went and bought a 2016 Sporty 48; because what the fuck do I know about building old motorcycles?" But who the fuck cares what it is right, as long as it's not a street bike. 

This leads us into another jack of all trades moment with Jay; photography. "Sometimes when I'm feeling frisky, I whip out the old Nikon D700. I take 6 photos or maybe 30, and sometimes 1 will come out good. I'm not a photographer, I just take photos sometimes.", which is pretty much enough to sum it up. "I'm stoked with a whole bunch of photos I've taken, and that's all that fuckin' matters." Too right bloke. 

"Sometimes when I'm feeling frisky, I whip out the old Nikon D700. I take 6 photos or maybe 30, and sometimes 1 will come out good. I'm not a photographer, I just take photos sometimes."

"Sometimes I paint, sometimes I get angsty sitting there for long periods of time trying to figure out colour blending and all the rest. I did the Knucklehead painting and that's pretty much where that ends." I was actually lucky enough to grab said Knucklehead painting, which takes pride of place in my lounge room. It's a wicked, dusty, rusty painting that tells you that the motor is as old as sin. Just how we like it. "I can't draw to save my life, but I spent what felt like 3 months working on it here and there." That led us to a pretty significant point in the story, with what I guess I'm trying to capture with these interviews. "Expressing yourself is a great way to be heard; you can tell a story through an action, a photo, a drawing..whatever. And without self expression, the world is a pretty boring place."  

“I was actually lucky enough to grab said Knucklehead painting, which takes pride of place in my lounge room”

So, as far as the nitty gritty, I think a lot of us have seen Jay's scoot by now. That 48 Sporty we mentioned earlier was written off "trying to pull a wheelie leaving work", which is a pretty standard outcome I reckon. So the white beast is a 72 Sporty, which was stripped down and and built back up by David at Primal Garage, with some work being done by Sean at Bar-None Moto. He cut the rear fender struts, and had some solid bar machined up to look like suspension, but it is actually hard-tailed. He also lifted the tank a little, modified the seat pan that Sean made, fit a new rear fender so it tucked nicely around the tire. He also freshened up the bike by re-painting the tins pearl white, with champagne stripes fading to silver. He also chucked the Leviathan cross on the tank at my request. He finished it all off with a set of bad ass up sweeps! Sean smashed out new bars, sissybar, license plate/ brake light bracket, and gave Dave a good start on the king/queen seat pan. Now I have a sweet ass looking bike that I’ve barely ridden this year. Covid has been a struggle", he says, and those of you in Victoria can attest to the fact that this year has been a total write off. Not being able to get out, hit some pubs, roll the swag out beside the bike and sleep in the dirt; that's our lockdown. "I’ve gone damn near everywhere on that bike, I love it to bits!" 

“He cut the rear fender struts, and had some solid bar machined up to look like suspension, but it is actually hard-tailed.”

There aren’t too many ways to describe riding a motorcycle to somebody who hasn't done it. And there's a difference again between riding in total comfort, heated grips, perfect riding position, had vitamins this morning, has a go-pro strapped to his head, has every supply under the sun in his bags, middle aged dentist on a touring bike. I'm talking about being stripped down of all fancy equipment, burning your legs, can't hear anything, welts on your face, hot, cold, numb fingers, sore arse, no fuel left, phone is dead, you're still 50kms from where you think the camp spot is but you know what? You could keep riding for another 1000kms because fuck me, this is what it's about. 

“..total comfort, heated grips, perfect riding position, had vitamins this morning, has a go-pro strapped to his head, has every supply under the sun in his bags, middle aged dentist on a touring bike.”

The smell of a campfire, the taste of a bug on your teeth, the spine shattering crack from a pothole on your hardtail, losing your house keys somewhere in the last 2 days riding, unpeeling yourself from the bike and finally being able to stretch your hips as the locals stare. "Passing out in the dirt, waking up in the rain. Skateboarding was my first love, but riding motorcycles is one big adventure, and the best one I've been on in years." says Jay, as I think we all for a moment realize that from now on, whenever anyone asks "Hey, lets skip town for a night on the bikes", you're going to say yes regardless, for fear of never being able to do it again. 

"Passing out in the dirt, waking up in the rain. Skateboarding was my first love, but riding motorcycles is one big adventure, and the best one I've been on in years."

If our readers are anything like us, and I think they are, living in the city is doable if there's an escape in between the chaos. "Pre-Covid, my girlfriend (Asti) and our dog (Luna) and I would head up into the mountains every other weekend. Find a cool spot to park and just walk around for awhile, explore. We could let Luna off lead and she loved it. I like shooting photos in the forest. Nature is the best". 

"Camping holds a special place in my heart. I love the smell of a campfire, endless banter between mates, NO RECEPTION. Not showering for awhile is also a guilty pleasure. We've all had our fair share of wet-wipe showers". I'll be honest, as long as there's water near by, that's good enough for me. Winter or not. Which reminds me, little tip for painting the town brown in the bush; dig two little holes for your heels, stick a log or the shovel in the ground, hang onto it and lean back. Opens up the bowels. (You'll thank me I reckon). 

’’We've all had our fair share of wet-wipe showers"

Everyone has a favorite camping story. I think as time has gone on, they don’t stand out as much as they used to, they're all great. Even when you ended up broken down in the rain, lost, hungry, hungover. Still better than a night in the city if you ask me. 

"My favorite camp spot was something not easily forgotten.  My girlfriend and I tripped out to Wilson’s Promontory one weekend. We paid to spend the night in the camp site which was basically a grass car park with no fires allowed and we decided that it just wouldn’t fly with us. We packed a couple of backpacks with the tent, sleeping mat, sleeping bags etc. We hiked a trail for an hour or so, scouting a suitable place to set up shop along the way. We eventually decided to veer off the trail, and head down through the shrub toward the ocean. We ended up finding the most insane spot! On top of a cliff, a nice flat piece of land on some moss covered rocks. Looking over the ocean. We were even graced with a sunset, right over the water, directly in front of us. Romantic as fuck, it was amazing. Golden hour blew us away. Not a single person in sight, but us. We got a little fire going and just marveled at what we found and where we were. That was the best camp spot for sure. If it were possible to accompany that with motorcycles, shit. I could have died right there and then."

‘’Even when you ended up broken down in the rain, lost, hungry, hungover. Still better than a night in the city if you ask me’’

“We packed a couple of backpacks with the tent, sleeping mat, sleeping bags etc. We hiked a trail for an hour or so, scouting a suitable place to set up shop along the way.”

I reckon that's a pretty good image to leave this story on. I think there's something special about people who can find solace in nothing, in no-one, just being content with what's happening at that moment in time. A sunset, setting off a car alarm with your pipes, burning away from a servo with a full tank of fuel. The big picture is made up of a million little pictures.

We always ask people what their life motto is; what they stand by. Jay gave us this. "Do more of what makes you happy. Whatever it is.”

Thanks bloke, it's been a time and a half. First beer is on me once the wall comes down.

"Do more of what makes you happy. Whatever it is."

All photos by Jay except for top photo by Sean (Bar-None Moto). 

[looselucy]

July

Two noises awoke me on the Sunday morning of the festival. The first was noise of heavy rain crashing down on my fabric roof. The second was the sound of my tent opening. Neither was a good noise.

I pulled my sleeping bag over my head and groaned loudly, not sure which one of the lads had chosen to climb into my tent, and not fussed to see any of them. The only thing that made me move my cover, was the thought that maybe it was a stranger who had stumbled into my home. It was Mike. “Pippa, do you know what time it is?” He asked. “No.” “Do you want to know?” “No.” “Are you rough.” “No.” “Liar.” He chuckled. Obviously, I was lying. I was rough as hell, and not in any state to get out bed quite yet. I needed a little time to recover. Only the day before, I had been gloating about not having hangovers at festivals, and yet there I was, rough as rats. I moved my hand out of the sheets and stroked my thumb over Mikes forehead. “You caught the sun.” I sulked at his bright red skin. “Not gunna happen today though, is it?” He tutted up to the sky. The sound of rain was always amplified in a tent, but I could still tell that it was genuinely pissing it down outside. All the more reason to stay in my tent. “Where are the lads?” I asked, waking. “Louis stole a gazebo, so we’re sorted. He’s already drunk.” He grinned. “We miss you though. We want you to join the fun.” I missed them too, if that was physically possible. The sleep I’d had was obviously needed, but the more I stared at Mikes adorable little burnt face, the more I was regretting staying in my tent. “Okay.” I sighed. “Go on. Tell me. What time is it?” “It’s three.” “THREE?” I cried. “Three.” He repeated through a smile. “Shit. I need to get up.” “Yeah, ya do.” He nodded. “I’ll leave you to it. But if you’re not out in five minutes, I’m coming back to bother you.” He kissed my forehead and then shuffled uneasily out of the tent. My tent was small even for me, never mind Mike the giant. I sat myself upright, shivering in my tent as I grabbed a thick jumper and started pulling it over my head and piecing together the evening before. All I could think about was how wonderful my evening with Harry had been. How for a few hours, it was like I had completely forgotten the wreck of a situation I was in when it came to him. How for just a while, I spent time with him, and everything was normal and everything was nice and I could just be with him without over-thinking it. I hated that it all fell apart before we ended the night. The evening was going to be absolutely perfect, and the worst part was, I wasn’t sure the evening had unravelled just because I had looked into it too much, just because my damn brain was in a whir. I grabbed my little compact mirror to see my face, and in my frenzy the evening before, I had obviously forgotten to take off my makeup. I had mascara stained down my cheeks. I cursed to myself, hating the thought that Mike had obviously just seen that and could possibly be mentioning to the boys. He was more than likely out there telling them all that he thought I had been crying, and then they would start asking why. I cursed to myself again. I rushed to put my hair in a ponytail and wipe the black stains from my face and got out of the tent as quickly as I could, in the hope I had escaped before they had chance to talk about me. But as I stood up straight outside my tent, the boys were all staring at me, sympathetic little smiles on their faces, none the of them saying a thing in their stupid little chairs, beers in their hands. Why has no one ever taught the male species about faking a conversation to save someone’s face and feelings? I bent down to grab a can from my crate, rolling my eyes at the lot of them when they couldn’t see, and then sat in my chair, keeping my head down. “I stole a gazebo.” Louis pointed to the green thing sheltering us from the rain. “You’re my hero.” I replied, grateful he had started a conversation. “We’re refusing to let the rain get us down.” “How you feeling?” Zayn asked me, trying to cover the concern in his voice. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I shrugged. “I just- I’m gunna go grab some food before I start drinking, does anyone want anything?” I couldn’t stand them all looking at me like I was a lost puppy, and I figured if I just gave them five minutes to push past it whilst I went a grabbed a burger from the nearest food van, by the time I got back they would all be fine. Even Harry, who looked just as rough as I did. They all mumbled a no, except Louis, who leaped straight up to his feet. “I’ll come with you.” He chirped. “Alright.” We began darting through tents until we found ourselves on the footpath, the rain belting down on us as Louis zipped up his waterproof jacket and I put up my hood. “Mike mentioned the mascara.” He began pretty quickly. “What? No way! I couldn’t tell at all!” I groaned sarcastically. “What?” “You were all looking at me with these sad fucking eyes. Bloody hell. Made me feel like an idiot.” “Were you crying over Harry? You should never cry over boys. Boys like Harry secretly thrive off that shit. Gives them power.” “I cried over you!” I shot. “That’s because I’m a bastard, and I still feel shit about that!” He pointed out. Harry had admitted to me himself that he had issues with power, so what Louis was saying made complete sense, I just hated the thought of Harry feeling smug about my tears. I didn’t want to think it was true, but I wouldn’t put it past him. “Promise I’ll never cry over you again.” I smiled. “Promise to never make you cry again.” The nearest food van was lit up in the near distance like a lighthouse at the end of a perilous journey overseas. The yellow lights illuminated the mud around the area, warm, welcoming, and the geniuses had even invested on clear gazebos to cover the wooden tables they had outside. “You want anything?” I asked. “Nah. I’ll go sit down and wait for ya.” I realised as I ordered my food, that the place was still alive, in spite of the rain, The true heroes were still out of their tents, music on, dancing and thriving off the thunder that growled through the clouds. The ground was slippery and dangerous beneath my feet, the sky grey, but still the atmosphere and mood of the place refused to shift anywhere other than magnificent. I thanked the van-man for my food and then dashed over and sat across from Louis, who still had a beer in hand and a lazy smile on his face. “I can’t believe you’ve been drunk since before I even managed to wake up.” I said, before taking a bite. “It’s what I do. I went to my first festival last year, and I was out of control. I planned on keeping it up this year, and I have fucking nailed it!” He really had. I wasn’t sure if I had seen him sober once all weekend. I wasn’t even sure he was sober when he arrived. Louis was making the most of the whole festival thing, and how it was acceptable to be drunk at any hour of the day “You had a good time?” I chuckled. “Amazing. Have you?” “So good. Reality seems very unappealing right now.” He nodded, agreeing with me and silently eyeing me across the table, before he hesitantly approached the topic, like I knew he would. “So, why were you crying?” I knew he was going to ask, even though he knew it was about Harry. But I guess what he was really questioning, was what exactly had happened that had brought me to tears. I could barely answer. “I don’t really know.” I sighed. “I had a really nice night with him, and everything was fine and I felt fine, but… then I think it just hit me how much I like him. I’m not even sure, I was fucked. So, I cried, like I always fucking do. Have you ever known someone who cries as much as me?” “Probably not.” He laughed. “Exactly. So maybe you shouldn’t read into my tears too much. Those puppy dog eyes are really condescending.” “Apologies.” He held his hands up. I took another big bite of my burger and playfully stuck my middle finger up at Louis, which he gladly returned. I still couldn’t quite believe that it was Louis who I had decided to talk to about this, but as he sat there across from me, drunk and cheery, he seemed like the ideal guy to unleash my misery on. + + + The weather got worse before it got better, and we all ended up huddled in Mikes bigger tent once the wind began blowing the raindrops under our cover. I lay between Zayn’s legs with my head on his chest, the choice of music mine as I opted for Blur, which got a nod of approval from everyone. Louis kept checking outside the tent in the hope we could retreat relatively soon. “It hasn’t been raining as much for like, ten minutes.” He said hopefully. “LOUIS DO YOU MIND? I’M TELLING A STORY!” Mike cried. “Sorry, man. Go on.” “So I said to him, excuse me sir, I ordered a pint, and this is not full to the top, and he said, well, it wasn’t even me who served you. And that’s when I realised we were in a completely different pub, and that was a completely different pint. I went home after that because I was too drunk.” It had reached the stage where we all genuinely found Mikes terrible stories funny, because it was his thing. If Mike ever told a funny story, I think none of us would laugh, we would be too confused, but it was thanks to the lack humour in every tale that he told, that we often ended up in stitches. My head was bobbing up and down like crazy thanks to Zayn laughing. “You should write a book.” Harry told him through chuckles. “A book?” “A book of stories. Just your little anecdotes.” He grinned. Mike was flattered, probably because Mike obviously thought his stories were great, but that was for different reasons than we did. “You think?” His eyes were wide. “What would I call it?” “Talking Shit. A professional guide. By Mike Jones.” Mikes face absolutely dropped and we all laughed even more, Harry seeming very proud of himself for getting such a good reaction from his crowd, taking up an entire side of the tent as he lay on his side and stretched across, his arm propping up his head, and one knee pointed to the sky, like someone was bloody sketching him. “Harsh, man. Harsh.” Mike nodded. “Fuck. I really don’t wanna go home.” Zayn smacked a kiss on the top of my head. “I don’t miss my bed or anything.” I sighed. “I just want to be here forever. It’s like another world.” “Fuck, guys, I forgot to tell you!” Louis cried. “I heard some people talking last night, and apparently there’s a secret stage somewhere.” “That shit is a fucking legend.” Zayn snorted. “I’ve heard that for the past sixteen years of my life. I’ve never found it. It’s not real.” “No no no, man, I heard!” Louis argued. “I heard them talking about it because they’d been there! We gotta find it.” “There’s nothing to find.” “I heard them saying that there’s a tunnel! I’m telling you, it’s real.” “A tunnel?” Zayn scoffed. “Can we go find it? Please? We need to at least look.” Zayn tutted and sighed, but Louis had these glistening eyes that were definitely hard to say no to. On top of that, Zayn really loved Louis. “Alright. Does everyone want to waste their time looking for the non-existent, secret stage?” We all cried our replies at exactly the same time. Though they did vary. “I’d love to!” I beamed. “I’m down for that.” Harry shrugged. “Fuck yes, bitch, let’s do it!” Mike cried. I sat upright in an attempt to go and put on some more acceptable clothes, since it had been dry-ish for quite a while now, and I was ready to get back into the arena and enjoy our final evening, but I was brought to a halt. “Guys, there’s just one thing, before we go.” Zayn spoke. “What?” I quizzed. “Every year on the last night, everyone puts on loads of bright makeup and glitter and stuff. S’a bit of a tradition.” “You want me to wear makeup?” Harry scowled. For what felt like the millionth time, I rolled my eyes at Harry’s protection over his dear masculinity. It just made me want to plaster foundation all over his face and constantly be following him and littering him with glitter, dancing around him and singing Spice Girls songs. He needed to take a leaf out of Zayn’s book. “Honestly, mate, you’ll look more out of place if you don’t put makeup on.” Zayn said to him. “I think I’m okay with that.” “Well, you won’t be seen with us then.” Mike tutted. “Fun-sponge.” “Pip, will you do my makeup for me?” Louis grinned. “Of course.” I laughed back. “I’ll do everyone’s makeup.” All our heads turned slowly to Harry, wondering if he could drop his bravado for just one night and join in the fun with the rest of us. Though he seemed reluctant, he finally agreed. “Fine. I’ll wear fucking makeup.” He fumed. + + + There weren’t many occasions where I had been so close to Harry’s face, and the gap between us hadn’t been closed. There had never been a time I was so close to Harry, applying glitter to his face. I doubted he ever wanted it to happen again. I had done my own makeup after getting changed, then I did the other three boys, who were outside enjoying the dry atmosphere whilst it lasted, drinking and singing away, and then it was just me and Harry in Mikes tent, Harry unwillingly opting for minimal makeup. I was putting silver glitter on his temples, shaping his eyes beautifully. “Would you cheer up!” I chuckled and whined. “I look like an idiot.” He groaned. “You don’t look like an idiot, you’re just acting like one.” He was looking deep into my eyes as I shaped the lines of his face, putting light traces of the glitter beneath his cheek bones, looking anywhere but actually at him, wishing I could get through the entire process with my eyes closed. “Easy for you to say.” He huffed. “Just ‘cause you look idiotically beautiful with glitter all over your face.” It wasn’t quite a flinch, because Harry wouldn’t have ever let himself, but it was like an alarmed look on his face, like he hadn’t meant to say it, it just slipped out. The glitter was, thankfully, hiding my pink cheeks. “Don’t try and butter me up.” I tried to brush past it. “I’ll just end up putting more glitter on.” “I wasn’t trying to butter you up.” He sighed. “You need to learn how to accept a compliment.” “Hey! I know how to accept a compliment.” “Then let me say something, and just say thank you.” He said, so I nodded. “You are fucking beautiful.” It was like he knew he had been close to flinching and he just needed to change that by repeating the statement in a more confident manner, so I wouldn’t know he was human and he faltered sometimes. I looked down to the floor, not able to look at his face for another second, but Harry didn’t let me escape that easily. He took his finger and his thumb, pinched them between my chin, and lifted my face so I was staring into the headlights again. He nodded, prompting me to talk. “Thank you.” I did as I was told. “You’re welcome. Now are we done?” He grinned. “Yeah. We’re done.” “Thanks, Pip-Squeak. You’ve made me look terrible, and I’m grateful. You ready to go?” “Mhm.” I wasn’t ready to go. At all. I was very concerned that if I tried to stand up I would just go toppling back to the ground like a damsel in distress. That was genuinely how I felt. I was genuinely distressed by the whole thing. Harry scuttled out of the tent, and was greeted by the boy’s whey-ing and cheering the fact he had some kind of decoration on his face, much to his dismay, and I sat on my knees in Mikes tent just trying to control my breathing so I wouldn’t pass out. Harry had said nice things to me previously, complimented me, flattered me, made me blush, but he had never said anything that had gotten to me quite like that. It was that whole thing; how I could just tell he couldn’t help himself. That he had just told me that so honestly. It was one of the first times in my life that I felt truly beautiful, and I was too shook up to appreciate it. Then on top of that, I just started getting annoyed with myself, for only feeling beautiful because a boy had told me I was. But it was Harry. Harry had told me he thought I was beautiful, and suddenly my feelings felt more delightful than they did daunting. “Pull yourself together.” I seethed to myself. I practically ran out of the tent and re-joined the boys, because the longer I stayed on my own, the longer I gave myself to reflect over and evaluate what it meant, which was never good. Especially for me. I could overthink a cough if I wanted to. I blamed those lectures studying people and body languages, but it was something I had done for years. I guess, maybe, it was down to having a sibling. A childhood with an older brother consisted mainly of dirty looks and sly remarks and hidden messages. All those things, on top of being a pretty typical female, had made me one of those people who couldn’t just forget things. Everything needed to be looked into and investigated. I clambered out of the tent as soon as I could. As soon as the fresh air hit me, so did a can of beer. “Sorry!” Mike laughed. He had obviously predicted that I would have a speedy reaction when he chucked the drink to me, but quick reaction skills weren’t something I could claim. That’s why it hit me in the face. I bent down and picked up my can, clicking it open and looking at the boys. Zayn looked mesmerizing. He had gone for glitter on his eyelids, thin, long, striking; making every look he gave seem as though he was mid-photoshoot. Like he was a model and we were all just basking in his presence. He also had glitter all over his lips, marking how plump they were. Louis was all cheekbones, thick stripes against the already striking structure of his face, another thick stripe down the centre of his forehead. Of course, Mikes glitter was all over the place. He had requested a dot on his chin, one on his forehead, a love heart on one cheek and a star on the other. “You all look fantastic.” I smiled, and took a swig. “Yeah yeah, we know. Now c’mon, let’s go.” Louis whined. “I think I might know where this secret stage is.” “I know exactly where it is.” Zayn chortled. “In your head.” In protest, Louis began marching towards the entrance gates, shaking his head, truly believing, and also very excited, about this secret stage he had heard so little about but held all faith in. We all began following, not quite as excited, but people say it’s about the journey, not the destination, and that worked well here; because even if this secret stage didn’t exist, I was definitely excited to look for it. “You think we’ll find anything?” I asked Zayn hopefully. “I genuinely don’t. I’ve looked for it for years, and never had any luck.” “Well if it’s been a rumour for years, don’t you think it’s true?” “People have believed in the Loch Ness Monster for years, and that’s definitely not real.” “Have you explored the depths of Loch Ness?” I grinned. “I don’t bloody need to!” “No, mate, I’m serious, here’s the thing.” Mike began. “My mates mate has a cousin with a mate, who lives in Scotland, and he said he’s seen in ten times!” “Fuck sake.” Zayn groaned. “He just said he respects its privacy.” He concluded. Zayn was running the risk of ruining his makeup by stroking over his eyes with great dismay as Harry was trying very hard not to choke on his beer. Louis was well ahead of us. “With Louis’ determination and Mikes madness, we’ll find this secret stage in ten minutes.” I chuckled. But that was not that case. Hours of searching, literal hours. We stopped occasionally, to get a bit of food or to dance a little more, to buy drinks and to soak up the atmosphere of each different arena, but Louis refused to give in, and for hours and hours, we chased our tails, looking for a place that I too, was beginning to believe was just an urban myth. A few minutes before midnight, we all sat down against one of the stages that shut a little earlier in the night, all pretty tipsy, having still had a good evening regardless of our failure, and decided to relax a little bit. I’d never seen Louis look so disheartened. “I officially give up.” Harry sighed. “We’re gunna have to. It shuts at two on the Sunday night.” Zayn told us. “These are our last two hours officially at the festival, and I refuse to waste them.” “So where’d you wanna go?” Harry asked him. “It’s your call.” “I dunno, man. I like the tree arena.” “Treena.” Mike said to himself. “Okay, let’s go there.” Harry smiled. “Does anyone else need more beers?” “I’ll go see if the band left any backstage.” Mike grinned. He began crawling round from the front of the stage right to the back as we all absorbed where we were for the final few hours, so beyond content it was almost uncomfortable. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the feet that had danced and jumped on the very spot I was on, the bands that had performed their music on the very stage I was resting my head on. “Can we come back next year?” I asked. “We’re doing this every year now until we die.” Zayn smirked. “I’m totally cool with that.” Harry breathed. “I’m stuck with you guys til I die?” Louis baffled. “Meh. Alright.” “HOLY SHIT!” We heard from behind us. I bolted my head around in a bit of a frenzy, because the thought of Mike being hurt or in any kind of trouble made my heart stop. “MIKE? Are you okay?” I cried. “GUYS THERE’S A FUCKING TUNNEL.” Louis came alive. He went from slouching to being the stiffest person ever, his eyes so wide he could have convinced anyone he was on acid, which wouldn’t have been too much of a surprise at that festival. Zayn still wasn’t getting excited. “DON’T FUCK WITH ME, MAN!” Louis whelped. “I’M BEING SERIOUS! GET YOUR ARSES BACK HERE. HOLY SHIT!” Louis ran round before any of us even thought Mike was being serious, because I was expecting Louis to get to the back of the stage/tent and begin shouting at Mike and calling him a prick for leading him on. That wasn’t what we heard. “GUYS HE’S NOT LYING!” Suddenly we were all on our feet, darting around to the back of the stage, standing over all the wires and technical crap that hadn’t been packed up quite yet, and seeing that dead centre, in the back of the tent, was a small, round tunnel, leading to the unknown. Mike turned his head to us slowly. “The secret stage.” He whispered. + + + The secret stage didn’t close at 2am. When it got to 3am, I wasn’t sure it would ever close. The daunting thought of having to up and leave early in the morning, was not a thought that crossed any of our minds at any point in the evening. The lights at the secret stage were just pinks and purples, too transfixing and consuming to ever want to leave. We were pleasantly surprised by the amount of people who had managed to find the stage, because it was busy, but not too busy. Loud, but not too loud. It was perfect. We couldn’t have ended the evening any better than being in there. We were on top of the world, so much so, we weren’t really sure when to quit, when to call it a night. I guess our only signal, was that around half an hour before, Mike had been placed on a seat right next to the DJ, and he had fallen asleep. “Maybe it’s time to get him back.” Zayn shrugged. I had to agree. None of us wanted to outdo ourselves, and it turned out you couldn’t actually buy any drinks in the secret arena, so we were all actually relatively sober (bar Mike, I don’t know how he managed it) but it was good. It was like Zayn had said on the Friday morning. It felt good to be aware. It felt good to be fully in that moment, to be conscious and in the right frame of mind, to fully understand how wonderful the festival was. It couldn’t have gotten better. Crawling through that pitch black, dirty, smelly tunnel, had definitely been worth it. Crawling back through it, and trying to get Mike through it, was not quite as rewarding. Especially since a lot of the time, this being one of them, boys don’t have that maternal instinct and need to look after their friends. It ended up being me who had to drag Mike through the tunnel. “C’mon, Mike. You can do it.” “I could just sleep here.” He mulled drunkenly. “You’re in a tunnel.” “You’re in a tunnel.” He retorted. “I am indeed, Mike. I’m also ready to get out of the tunnel so, c’mon, take my hand.” “HURRY UP!” I heard Harry from behind us. “SHUT THE FUCK UP, STYLES! I’M WORKING ON IT.” I held my hand out in the darkness, hoping Mike would reach for me, and he did. I shuffled backwards out of the tunnel, thankful to get out, and then helped Mike up to his feet as soon as we were free, still the only one helping him stand upright as the rest of the lads started walking back to camp. “I love you, Pip.” He groaned. “I love you too, Mike. Now c’mon. Bed time.” I took hold of his hand, and we walked back to camp with each other, not able to catch up with the others, as Mike began listing off things that he loved. He loved me. He loved pineapples. He loved cups of tea. He loved the colour pink, but don’t tell the lads. He loved The Killers and he really loved Atomic Kitten. This list would have been fine if it hadn’t started raining again whilst we had been at the secret stage, and by the time we were finally back at camp, the rest of the lads had already retrieved to their tents, and I looked like a drowned rat. “GOODNIGHT, BOYS!” Mike screamed as he fell into his tent, Louis practically waiting with open arms. “Goodnight!” I added. They all said their goodnights, having to be extra loud over the rain as I quickly got in my tent and zipped it up tight. I took off my wet clothes immediately, and shoved them into my backpack, proud that I had been organized enough earlier in the day to pack everything away, leaving my tent almost empty. All there was, once I shoved my bag into the foot area of my tent, was me, and my sleeping bag. I tucked myself up and began thinking over my weekend, the ups and downs of my emotions, but how, even after all that, including the tears, I probably wouldn’t have changed a second of it. Nothing needed to be changed. The whole place was magical, and I hoped to take some of the fairy dust that was sprinkled on those fields, and on our faces, and bring it into my real life. I was completely still. Completely content. Then I heard a voice. “Oi. Pip-Squeak.” “Harry?” My tent started to unzip, and within a matter of seconds again, it was closed, and Harry was inside with me, shivering. “My tents raining in.” He sighed, sleeping bag tucked under his arm. “Do you mind if I kip in here?” I wanted to say no. That stupid pink tent was so tiny, having that proximity with him again had the ability to kill me off. So, of course, I decided to make a joke. “You sure you can stand sleeping in my pink tent?” I sulked sarcastically. “I’ll survive, I’m sure.” He rolled his eyes. He unravelled his sleeping bag and lay it out on my spare side and I tucked into my own a little more, very aware I was only in my tiny bra and knickers, then purposefully laying on my side so I could see him. He settled in pretty quickly. “Does your sleeping bag have a built-in pillow?” I beamed. “Yeah!” “That’s amazing!” “I know!” He nodded, deadly serious. “Can you believe the bloody technology we have these days?” “Do sleeping bags count as technology?” I quizzed, grinning. “They do when they have pillows built into them.” “Ahh. Okay.” I chuckled and closed my eyes, and it surprised me that this was the most comfortable I had been all weekend. I thought being that close with him would put me on edge, but it relaxed me. It made me so comfortable, having him there with me. It was familiar, something I hadn’t even realised I was missing. I was suddenly overwhelmed with appreciation that Harry’s tent was so rubbish.The only thing I wished, was that I had a sleeping bag big enough for two. “I’m sorry for being mean about the little pink tent.” He spoke. “The little pink tent is currently saving you from drowning.” I smirked. “I think you should thank the little pink tent.” “Thanks, little pink tent.” He obliged. “She says you’re welcome?” I giggled. “She?” Harry grimaced. “Well, this is the first time I’ve been inside a woman for quite a while.” “HARRY!” I cried. I pulled my arm out of the sleeping bag and hit him hard, which he probably expected/wanted as he sniggered, very impressed with his own quick wit, and how he was making me squeal. “That’s disgusting.” I concluded. “I aim to please.” He shrugged. As I lay there, trying to control my titters, staring at him, all I wanted to do was tell him how grateful I was that he was there with me. My weekend would have ended on a high even if I was in that tent on my own. Just having him there with me, making inappropriate jokes and looking smug, was making me so happy. “I don’t want to go home.” I whispered. “This should be a week-long thing.” He said, turning so he was facing the sky. “Hm. Yeah. I might want to go home if it was a week. Three days just isn’t long enough.” “I know, as well, that I’m going to get home tomorrow and just want to crash, and my dad’s will just be dying and screaming and asking me if I had a nice time.” “And what will you tell them?” I asked. “I won’t tell them anything. I’ll be asleep.” “Well, what will you tell them when you wake up?” “That I had the best weekend ever.” I wondered how the second year of uni would play out. I wondered if I would still be staring at him with the same longing eyes, admiring every single word he said, or if things would change, my feelings would pass and he could go back to being just Harry rather than Harry. It was just under two months, and I would be living with him, and Zayn. I couldn’t contain my excitement. I was practically wishing away those months. I just wanted to get all my things in that grotty little house, and start my new life with the two of them. I guess, in my head, it seemed like a fresh start. I was hoping I would have a fresh look on things, too. “It’s been a beautiful escape from reality.” I mulled. He turned back to face me, and shuffled towards me slightly, taking a deep breath in and seeming to calm. I felt like sleeping was crawling towards us. “It’s like a different world, isn’t it?” “Mm.” I agreed. “It’s like… nothing is real here. Almost like there’s… no guidelines. No... consequences to your actions. It’s just... a fantasy. Fiction. Like we can do whatever we want.” I definitely couldn’t do whatever I wanted. Because doing whatever I wanted would involve getting out of my sleeping bag and kissing him until my lips were stinging, until they were swollen and ugly, until there wasn’t a single chance any other girl would ever cross his mind again. That’s what I would do, if I could do whatever I wanted. I closed my eyes and looked down, trying to think of anything other than his lips. “Pip.” He whispered for my attention. As soon as I looked back up, Harry proved his desires ran alongside mine, as he threw himself at me, and kissed me. It was hard, rushed, racy. His arm captured around my back automatically so that he could pull me closer to him, practically dragging the top of my body out of the sleeping bag as I snaked my arms around his neck and moaned into his mouth. I was in heaven. His hands were stroking down my spine, his tongue was gracing its way into my mouth, my moans were real and alive as I made sure I was as close to him as I could physically be. I needed him. I kicked my sleeping bag off my body, and as soon as Harry had done the same thing, I leaped so that I was on top of him, straddling his beautiful hips and pulling his t-shirt off his body. His skin was surprisingly warm under my itching fingertips, so soft and silken. I felt like it was made to blend with mine, like only my hands could touch his skin and feel it for exactly what it was. I moved to kiss him again, running my fingers through the curls either side of his head, grinding my core against him, feeling him harden beneath me whilst he grunted into my mouth like an animal. “Fuck.” I panted. He flipped us so that I was on my back again, and without saying anything, he started to remove his jeans. That’s when I knew it was going to happen. That’s when it sunk in, that this wasn’t just going to be like the other times. This time, we were going to cross the line, we were going to explore a realm that had only been fictional before, because we were in a fictional world and we could! We finally felt as though the consequences of our actions couldn’t hold us back. Within seconds, he was totally nude, and climbing back over to me. He didn’t need to ask, but I could tell he wanted to. I decided to answer his question before he even had the chance to voice it, by dipping my fingers into the sides of my knickers, and taking them off, slowly, watching him watch me. He looked me deep in the eyes once they were off, and I just nodded. He knew. We both knew. He smothered the top of my body with his as he moved between my legs, kissing me so deeply I felt like I was going to pass out. All I could hear was the rain beating down on my tent, and our heavy breathing, and for once in my life it was all I needed. I just needed us, I just needed to be there. Suddenly, he slowed the kiss down, and pulled away, looking into my eyes like he could read every single word I had never told him. That’s when he gently took hold of himself, and slowly, pushed into me. I wanted to roll my head back, amazed by the feeling in my stomach, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. I had to look into those green lightbulbs to really let the moment sink in. Despite everything, I was finally feeling him fully. He began to move, calm and filled with ease and grace, still looking me in the eyes, his breathing all over the place, but I wasn’t sure I was breathing at all. I bit my bottom lip, and finally cracked my neck, letting out a moan of approval, and that’s when he seemed to calm down, and he really started to move. He began kissing at my jaw as he thrust his hips into me, picking up speed as his hands gripped at my waist. Suddenly he was harsh, quick, and with every peak he hit, he grunted, or groaned, or made any kind of noise that that sent my senses soaring. “I’ve needed you for so long.” He whispered. He began rolling himself into me as I pushed back up against him, gripping at the hair on the back of his head and pulling him so his lips met mine, licking his bottom lip as he granted me access again, one of his paws moving to my breast and the other gripping at one of my cheeks. He was kissing me like he had never kissed me before. I could feel his passion oozing from his mouth and seeping into me, filling me up right from my toes to the top of my head. We were so fucking close with one another, I couldn’t tell where his body ended and mine began. I’d never been like that with someone before. I’d never been so involved, so pleasured. I trailed my fingers down sweetly over his spine, enjoying the feel of his thrusting rushing through his back, the thought of how being with me was taking over his whole body and mind. He was completely mine. Once I had trailed down his whole back, I gripped at his bum cheek, my nails digging into the delicate skin, and it made him work even harder, beating into me and biting my bottom lip, before cursing to himself. “Fuck. Fuck, Pip. I need- I’m gunna- Fuck.” I knew we weren’t going to last long. It somehow felt as though we’d been taking part in months of foreplay. He moved his hand down to my clit, not losing stamina for even a split second as he began rubbing two fingers quickly against me, sending sparks of rapture shooting through my veins as I panted and moaned and writhed underneath him, losing my mind as soon as he was touching me there. “Please… Harry, I’m so close.” I cried. “C’mon.” He rambled through gritted teeth. “I need to feel you. I’ve waited so long to feel you-” He pushed deep into me, tongue buried into my mouth but never stinting the gorgeous noises that our intercourse pulled from him. He felt so good, so fucking incredible that I wanted to stay within that moment, right there in the initial stages of my orgasm, with his tongue tender and tough with mine. His fingers dipped a little lower, practically cupping some of my wet desire before he lift them back up, and rubbed those juice against my clit. I came with no more warning than that. I had been almost sure he could make me reach my peak just through certain looks, never mind when he was fucking me like I’d never been fucked before. Harry was shaking, just feeling me release myself on him like that was sending him into a state of sexual hysteria, thrusting even harder, his hand dragging up to me until his fingers wound into my loose hair and gripped onto it so tightly I cried out in both pleasure and pain. I watched the dull lights from outside light up the glitter on his face as he looked down to me, and he was just so consuming. He had pulled me into him and I wasn’t sure I would ever breathe real air again. In that moment, I didn’t want to. “Kiss me.” I called. So he did. Once our lips were in contact again, I could feel Harry faltering, I could feel him nearing his end, the way his lips were shaking, the way his thrusts were slower but quicker all at the same time. Then, when it was happening, I could feel him inside me, I could feel his body shaking as his lips stopped moving and he just stopped breathing, completely stopped. I kissed his bottom lip, and tightened my legs against his hips, watching him as his orgasm hit because of me. I just watched him, totally in awe. It was almost like a relief, when he started breathing again. It felt like it had been so long. He looked back down to me, his chest vibrating, then he nuzzled his nose against mine. I couldn’t help but show the joy that tugged upwards on the corners of my lips. He flopped down to the side after a short while, his chest still heaving after the workout, as was mine, but I felt fully unwound as I turned my head to the side and just watched him for a while, totally silent, just admiring the profile of his face, the way his jaw looked like it could cut diamonds. He was astonishing. Bewildering. “Unzip your sleeping bag.” He huffed after some time. “What?” I was still out of my head. “You think after that, I’m just going to get into my own sleeping bag and you’ll get in yours? No way. I’m staying on another planet with you.” “Okay.” I hushed. So I did what I was told. I grabbed my sleeping bag from the bottom of the tent, and completely unzipped it so that it was like a duvet, and spread it across the two of us. As soon as that was done, I turned to face away from him, hoping he would slot against my back and put his arms around me. But that wasn’t what he wanted. “Turn around.” He whispered. I groaned, but conformed, grinning because it felt so obvious, for the first time, how much he wanted me. I was willing to do whatever he requested. He ushered me into his arms, and we settled together, one of my legs draped over his hip, his butterfly against my stomach, my breasts against his chest, and his lips on my head. We lay in silence for a while, consuming our closeness, and what had just happened. I knew it might have been stupid, in the long run, but I didn’t regret what had happened for a second. I kissed his chest, silently concerned that Harry would feel differently. He soon proved I had nothing to be worried about. “This is perfect.” He gulped, holding me a little tighter. “You’re perfect.” I said accidentally. But I didn’t regret saying it, because the two of us were so caught up in the moment, I knew I could have said anything, really, and nothing could truly shock him. Then, on top of that, he was perfect. There was no denying that. “Goodnight, Pip.” He mumbled. “Goodnight, Harry.” We fell asleep like that, the rain still pelting down over our heads, the wind shaking our walls, and my feelings shaking my heart.

[allofusandco]

The beginning is not the beginning

The beginning is actually sort of in the middle.

The beginning before this one involved a lot of alcohol, though not as much as Al likes to remember there was. Not so much that he’d had trouble getting it up, or keeping it up. No, not that much. Anyway, call that the prologue.

Maybe a few years ago he would have tried to convince himself Matt had talked him into it, tricked him somehow, but Al isn’t twenty or twenty-one or twenty-three; he’s thirty-two, and he can’t actually pretend to himself that he wasn’t the one who made the first move, who’d put his hand on the back of Matt’s head and pulled him in. The fact they’d left the lights low did nothing to change the fact that Al had got on his knees, had pressed Matt into the mattress and fucked him ruthlessly, had kissed his stubbled face with an unusual passion and a fierce affection. No, the low light, those few beers, they change nothing.

The fact it happens a second time less than a week later says nothing but that Al needs to find himself a girlfriend.

Anyway, he always leaves before Matt wakes up so that was is supposed to be the end. Not the beginning.

So then there’s the beginning which is actually the middle. Al is working, it’s a slow Sunday because of the icy wind and rain, and Matt has to be a sucker for punishment to be back here. But he’s back here, sitting at the bar, smile on his face.

“What time d’you get off?” he asks, with deep dimples and pretty eyes and a mouth Al wants to fuck. But won’t.

“Ah, could be late.”

“Right.” Matt isn’t put off, not yet. “You could come over.”

“Yeah, nah, like I said, probably gonna be late.”

Matt’s dimples falter. He looks around, but the place is pretty empty, and no one is close enough to pay attention.

“So the other night…”

“Oh, man, I was wasted,” Al says, averting his eyes and reaching for a glass polishing cloth, because the sparkling schooner glasses could always use another round, if it will give him something to do that isn’t watching Matt finally get that this is not going to happen again. “Can’t remember much.”

“Oh.”

Fuck, now he feels guilty. Wasn’t part of the plan.

“Look,” he says, deciding that forty seconds of honesty won’t kill him. He leans heavily on the edge of the bar. “Shoulda done the disclaimer thing, before, but. This isn’t really me.”

“What isn’t you?”

“I’m straight.”

Matt’s face shifts. Confusion. Understanding. Disappointment. And then he just looks so fucking done that Al’s skin prickles with cold.

“Nah. You’re a fucking coward,” Matt says, counting out coins that rattle on the bar. “So it’s better I figured that out now, instead of later.”

And it’s shit, and it bloody hurts, but it’s done, and over. No way in hell Matt will come in here again, and Al is safe.

Except Matt isn’t the type to avoid a local because he doesn’t want awkwardness. He comes in with friends, plays pool, orders politely from Al without asking how he’s doing, and it’s shit, utter bollocks. He comes in with his sister for a meal and doesn’t so much as make eye contact. He’s a fucking adult, and it’s annoying.

Worst of all, he comes in to meet what has to be a date, and Al almost grinds his teeth into paste. He says hi when he comes to pay the bill, and Al grabs him by the wrist before he can even stop himself.

“Is that a date?”

Matt casts his eye toward the door, gently pulls his arm away, and nods, before he takes his card back. “Yeah. Tinder thing.”

He’s so fucking gorgeous with his black hair and his rich brown skin. No dimples just then, though.

“D’you like him?”

Matt pauses at the bar. His eyelashes catch the lights. He turns with the same tired expression Al saw that Sunday.

“Not as much as I liked you. You idiot,” he adds, but for a second there, he’s got a look on his face that says he wouldn’t be that hard to convince.

“I get off…”

“Shithead. Ask me on a date or go home and fuck yourself,” Matt says. And then he’s gone.

It turns out in the end that asking a guy out isn’t necessarily more complicated than asking a girl out, and once you get past the flop sweat, being on a date with a guy isn’t as difficult as it looks on the surface either. Nope. It’s a date, whatever, they get a bit pissed, they talk about their families. Turns out Matt’s first name is actually Maiele, but no one outside of the Lao side of his family has called him that since he was a kid. They sound pretty cool, actually, big rambling family who regularly cook and eat together, cheerfully overwhelming the quieter white side of the family with fragrant fresh spring rolls and fermented fish paste and carrot salad.

He’s a shit, though. They don’t end up in bed together until after the third date.

And afterwards, naked and sticky and a tangle of limbs on the bed, Matt manages to convince him to talk.

“How can you not know what romantic attraction feels like?” Matt wants to know. Al shrugs. Romance is a weird thing, and it’s an uncomfortable thought. “But you know what it’s like with a chick.”

“Well, yeah.” He thinks a minute. Lets himself talk, whatever comes to mind. Whatever. Wanting to know what she thinks about something. Wanting to show her something or talk to her just because it reminded him of her. Doing shit he really doesn’t want to with a smile on his face because it will put a smile on her face. Imagining what a future might be like with her.

“See, you are a fucking idiot,” Matt says, rolling over, arms around Al’s midsection, head resting on his stomach. Al’s hand falls to Matt’s hair, fingers curling between silky strands.

“I never said I wasn’t.”

“Luckily. What’s the difference?”

“Between?”

“If you saw something you thought I’d like. Could you honestly not pick up your phone and fucking text me about it? Because I have a dick?”

Could he?

Turns out, he could.

The middle is actually the middle.

The middle is the cool part.

Al is pretty sure there is never going to be a moment in his life when he can think about the word romance with a guy’s face in his head without having a panic attack but it turns out he can still sort of do it. He even sort of likes it. Matt is touchy-feely, a hand holder, kisses Al’s neck when he’s chopping veggies or whatever. They take turns being little spoon, flip over in the wee small hours. The sex is good. No, the sex is fucking great, and there’s so much of it; it comes as a shock to Al that he’s sort of a switch. But really, if more guys actually had a clue about their prostate, there would probably be a lot more… butt-stuff happening in the world.

(He actually kind of loves having Matt plastered to his back, muttering in his ear. No, he really, really fucking loves it.)

Matt’s family is a trip and the food is awesome and they call him Skippy which is such a high school throwback that it’s kind of funny.

A weekend in Sydney for a buck’s night, Al takes thirty photos of gross bin chickens and texts them all to Matt, who responds with increasingly annoyed emojis. Doesn’t stop him from texting a kiss before he sleeps on Saturday night, though. They fuck. They argue. They hold hands.

And then Matt says he thinks he’s sort of done with the whole dating scene.

And then he offers Al a copy of his house key, and asks him to move in, because they haven’t slept a night apart in four months anyway and maybe if they saved some cash they could look at buying, maybe around Carlton or Fitzroy.

And then a girl hits on Al in a bar and he says he’s seeing someone and then Matt sits down and touches his arm and the girl says, what a waste.

What a waste. This could be it. If he stays with Matt he’s never going to slip his fingers into a woman’s slick heat again, never get married or have kids or do anything normal. Fuck, he’s barely been able to bring himself to introduce Matt to his friends. Giving up everything doesn’t sound like a healthy relationship, right?

Fucking Matt.

Everything is his fault.

And then, then it’s the end.

The beginning of the end.

Al cloaks the entire thing in an air of self-sacrifice, but hates himself with every fibre of his being. It’s all true, though. Matt does deserve better. Al is a fuckup. Al prefers women anyway and Matt fucking knew it. (The fact he’s not even sure about this bit anymore has no relevance.)

Anyway, he’s been thinking of working in the States for a year or two since forever, and if he doesn’t do it soon, he’s going to be too old.

And, don’t look at me like that.

Angry tears. For a moment or two, the looming specter of violence.

When it’s all over, Al punches a wall so hard he splits three knuckles.

This end is absolutely, definitely, the end.

It’s a bit over a year later that Al sees on a friend’s Facebook that Matt has moved in with someone else, they’re planning to get married as soon as the government gets its head out of it arse.

So even if he does get over his shit, that’s done with.

The End.

[tf2-reacts]

So we went to see Rocky Horror...

Pauling here! This weekend I decided to take the guys out to a screening of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was a great time, and I decided that this would be great to jot down and share on the blog! I hope this batch of reactions will thrill you, chill you, and fulfill you!

Sniper: It took me awhile to get into it. I had a ball with the water guns at the rain scene though. (I may or may not have filled the guns with piss.)

Pyro: Hrm hum huddah hr huddah hrmph hurmph hmffhhr.

(I got kicked out for having real fire.)

Scout: I wasn’t so huge on the flick itself, but I did like the callbacks. I’ve never done this in a theater before, so I had a blast making the whole audience laugh with my awesome sense of humor!

(Pauling’s note: Only one of his comments earned a distant chuckle at most.)

Soldier: I was oddly aroused.

Engineer: I didn’t quite care for it, but I did have a hoot doing the “Time Warp.” That part was mighty fine.

Medic: I loved it! I could truly relate to Doctor Frank N Furter on every level. I think he’s going to be my next Halloween costume!

Heavy: It was not for me. Heavy does not understand these jokes or why people shout at screen.

Demoman: I had fun with all the props and shouting obscenities at the film. It was a bloody good time!

Spy: I hated most of the experience. It was insane, bizarre, and overall noisy. (Not to mention, it’s awkward hearing your son make crude sex jokes right next to you.) The only callback I ever uttered was, “Buy an umbrella, you cheap bitch!” when she used a newspaper to shield herself from the rain. I was that annoyed with the film before the third number. However, I did quite enjoy the song Dr. Furter sang about finding home on earth at the end. It almost made me care about these characters.

[berrynarrybanana]

A/N: I hope this is good enough for that anon that requested it ages ago! I’m sorry it took me so long to write and post it but I hope you enjoy! 

“The emergency contact sheet is on the counter and the restaurant’s number is on there too if you can’t get ahold of us,” Niall’s hands tightened on your waist as you talked quickly. He was trying to guide you out of the house slowly, but surely, and you weren’t budging. “Her schedule is right next to it. She shouldn’t have dinner until seven and she shouldn’t be in bed before eight thirty or else she’ll wake me up at three in the morning and she won’t go back to bed.”

“Darlin’,” Niall said softly, sliding in front of you with a sympathetic grin. “We have to go, alright? We’ll be back in a few hours, okay? Dad’s got this under control.”

“Did raise two boys, ya know?” He chirped from behind Niall, bouncing Maeve on his hip as Niall chuckled, shaking his head.

“It’s going to be just fine,” Niall’s hands rubbed up and down your arms gently as he nodded, looking back at his Dad with Maeve. “She probably won’t even notice we’re gone.”

“Niall, she’s a baby, not an idiot,” You groaned.

“Darlin’,” He warned gently. “It’s gonna be just fine. Don’t make me carry ya outta here, because I will and ya know it.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” You grumbled, hiking your purse further up on your shoulders as you huffed out, looking up at Bobby. “Thank you, Bobby. Please don’t hesitate to text us if something is wrong, okay? I promise I’ll answer.”

“Don’t text us Da’, ya have everythin’ under control and she won’t have her phone on her anyways. Call me if ya need me.” Niall, guided you towards the door as you scoffed loudly. “Love ya Da’, by Maeve! Mummy and Daddy will be back soon!”

“Niall!” You screeched. “Niall I’m not leaving my phone!”

“I’ll have it, it’s fine,” He shrugged, opening the front door as Bobby chuckled. “It’s goin’ to be just fine. He’s raised two kids and he watches Theo all the time. I trust him and you should too darlin’, he’s her grandfather.”

“I do trust him!” You cried out as he shut the door to your home, guiding you down the stairs as you drug your feet along, pouting. “I just, it’s hard to leave her Niall. I haven’t been away from her since she was conceived, that’s like thirteen months!”

“It’s fourteen,” He corrected you gently, opening up the car door with a smirk. “And she’s not even going to notice we’re gone, Darlin’. It’s a few hours, not a few days. I know this is hard-“

“Do you?” You snapped. “You seem perfectly fine to just leave her here!”

“Hey!” Niall said firmly, his face dropping as soon as you spoke. “Ya know that’s not true and it’s not bloody fair for ya to say that either. I love my little girl and I hate leaving her, but I know that I’m coming right back to her. Now get in the bloody car so we can enjoy our damn anniversary ya insane and rude woman.”

“Niall,” You said softly, sighing as he clenched his jaw. “I didn’t mean it like that. It just looks easier for you. You don’t seem phased at all and I can’t even walk out of the fucking door without wanting to break down.”

“It’s hard for me too, Darlin’ really hard,” He said softly, clearing his throat as he tried to avoid looking right at you. “She’s my baby and I love her more than anyhin’ in the whole world. But I know that I’ve gotta go away sometimes. It’s just like leavin’ ya behind. It’s never easy but it’s somethin’ that’s just gotta be done.”

“You’re an amazing father, Niall,” You walked forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you wrapped your arms around him. “I’m sorry I’m such a pain in the ass.”

“You’re my favorite pain in the ass,” He smirked, brushing his nose against yours before kissing you softly. “Now get in the car. We’ve got plans.”

//

You’d been in the car for about thirty minutes now, stuck in traffic.

Niall seemed thoroughly upset about it as he huffed and puffed, looking at the time and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. As far as you were concerned, you weren’t on a time restriction and you weren’t exactly scheduled to be anywhere. Niall really had taken your phone from you and he’d dropped it in the compartment on his door so that you couldn’t get it back while he was driving. You reached over to rest your hand on his thigh, giving it a soft squeeze as he groaned loudly, the cars creeping forward just slightly before stopping again.

“Niall,” You said softly. “It’s fine, right? It’s just a little bit of traffic.”

“We have to be somewhere though,” He mumbled, pulling his phone out of the cup holder to glance at the time. “And it’s important that we get there now because it might rain sometime soon.”

“A little rain never hurt anyone,” You smiled gently at him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Darlin’,” He grabbed your hand, smiling softly at you as he shook his head. “It’s sort of an outdoor activity, if it rains, it’s gonna be ruined.”

“It really doesn’t matter what we’re doing though, as long as we’re together,” You said as he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “Remember our first date?”

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat, trying to fight off the smile on his lips. “It was almost exactly like today, expect today I know it’s going to rain so it won’t be that much of a surprise.”

“And hopefully today I won’t get smacked in the face with a soccer ball,” You snorted, reaching up to rub over the spot on your jaw that was hit many years ago. “And hopefully our intrusive and not so subtle friends won’t be there either.”

“They just wanted us to be together,” He chuckled. “They were right setting us up, don’t ya think?”

“If they hadn’t tricked us into a first date we wouldn’t have Maeve,” You whispered, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “Guess they did a pretty good job setting us up, but the rest was all us.”

//

When you finally got to where you were going, it was pouring.

Niall was upset as he parked the rover, cursing as you smiles widely. It was the park where you’d met, the park where you’d had your first date. You didn’t care much about the fact it was pouring outside, you were touched by the fact he was bringing you back here. After five years of being together, he was taking you back to the place it all began. Niall turned the radio down as he glanced down at his phone.

“Niall,” You said. “This is so sweet of you, I can’t believe you brought me back.”

“It’s kind of ruined though, it’s pouring,” He sighed. “Darlin’, I am so sorry about this. I wanted to take ya down memory lane. I had the whole day planned out and the ending was supposed to be really special.”

“This is still special,” You said quickly. “The rain didn’t ruin it the first time, did it? Let’s not let it ruin today either, Niall.”

“I don’t know how I got so lucky with you,” He had a fond smile on his lips as he shook his head. His phone started buzzing in the cup holder, catching his attention. He snatched it up quickly so you didn’t really have a chance to look at who was calling. “Hello?....Yeah, we’re here….now ya know how it bloody feels to be rained out….well thank ya for the effort Freddie….just bring the bloody basket to the car we’ll eat here…By the oak tree….yeah.”

“Freddie is here?” You smiled as Niall hung up. “Is Sandy with him?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper recreation of our first date without ‘em would it love?” He smirked over at you, shaking his head. “They were gonna set up the picnic for us and watch it until we got here. But since it’s pissing down like cats and dogs, we’ll just have our picnic in the car before we move onto our second step.”

“Niall, you don’t have to have all of this stuff planned. I would be so happy just spending time with you, you know that?” You said softly, reaching over to grab his hand. “This is so sweet of you, thank you so much Niall.”

“I wanted ya to have a good time, to enjoy yourself on your first day out without the little one. You deserve to be spoiled and treated every now and then and I just wanted to show ya how much I love ya.” He squeezed your hand back. “So let’s enjoy our picnic before I take ya out to our second event of the day.”

//

After the picnic in the car, Niall whisked you off again.

You weren’t exactly sure where he was taking you until you turned down the familiar road. There was a little lake house back down this road, the place you’d spent your first weekend getaway. You hadn’t been back since that weekend but you absolutely loved the little cabin. You always joked to Niall that when you won the lottery you’d buy the little lake house and make it a vacation home. You wondered who owned it now, if it was still used as a rental property. As Niall parked the car, the smile on your face grew wide. The rain had long gone and the sun was shining on the wet grass.

“Let’s get out, I have something to show you,” Niall said softly, opening up his door with a toothy grin. You opened your door, stepping around as he put his hand on the handle, holding it open for you as he grinned.

You took Niall’s hand as you walked up the porch steps to the front door, Niall pulling a key out of his back pocket. You watched as he opened the door, squeezing his hand with excitement as he pushed the door open. It was completely empty inside. The hardwood floors were bare and all of the walls had been painted a stark white. You frowned, thinking about how beautifully decorated the home was before. It was all gone now and you were a little sad thinking that those memories you’d made here were gone now. Niall pulled you through the foyer towards the living area.

“Now, they’ve gutted it out and redone the walls because I wasn’t sure if you wanted to decorate it yourself,” He said softly, turning around to look at you as you stopped in the living room.. “I think we could really make this place our own, ya know? It’ll be a great little summer home for us and the kids and all their friends.”

“Niall,” You said softly. “What’s going on?”

“I bought it,” He said softly. “Ya wanted it so bad and I know how much ya loved our weekend here. I wanted ya to have this. It’s a great investment and we can really work on it together. I think it’s the perfect summer home.”

“So you just bought it?” A soft smile creeped up on your lips. “Just like that?”

“You wanted it so bad, Darlin’, and I vowed to always give ya everything ya wanted,” Niall said softly as you slipped up closer to him. “So yeah, just like that.”

“Niall,” You whispered, wrapping your arms around him. “I love you so, so much. I don’t think I can ever truly show you just how much.”

“You show me every day Darlin’,” He pressed his lips to yours softly a few times, squeezing his arms around you. “Now, we’ve had our lunch and our cocktails, you’ve seen the house… let’s get home so we can both stop worryin’ about that baby of ours so much.”

//

When you walked into your home, you could hear Maeve crying.

At first you were worried, but you could hear Bobby singing softly to her and when you finally saw her, you saw her grandfather bouncing her gently to calm her. You knew he had it under control even though it hurt to see her crying like that. But Niall didn’t feel the same. He rushed forward as soon as he could, a deep frown on his face as he grabbed Maeve from his father’s arms.

“What’s wrong my little darlin’?” He cooed, bouncing her in his arms as Bobby smiled at his son softly, glancing over at you. “I’m sorry we were gone for so long, we didn’t mean to leave you out on such an important day.”

“How was yer anniversary? Did ya enjoy yourselves?” Bobby asked as Niall continued to try and soothe Maeve, your heart aching as she wailed into his shoulder.

“It was amazing,” You smiled. “Thank you so much for watching her for us, Bobby. You were all right saying a day away would be good for me.”

“It never hurts to have a little break from being a parent,” He chuckled as you gave him a quick hug. “I’m always here to babysit when ya need me. Ya deserve to spend some time away from the little one, some time to be yerself again and not just Mum.”

“Well we won’ be needin’ ya for quite sometime Da’, that was our last break for a while,” Niall brushed his hand over the back of Maeve’s head, frowning. “Maeve clearly didn’t like it.”

“She was fine the whole time, Niall,” His dad said sternly. “She’s just woke up and she’s hungry.”

“Aww, little one,” You cooed, walking over to her to kiss her forehead. “Let’s get some dinner in you, yeah? We can cuddle up on the sofa after and watch some Peppa Pig.”

“I can feed her,” Niall said, turning slightly.

“You don’t want to give her up, do you?” You smirked, trying to contain your amusement. “Alright, you go ahead and take this one then.”

“Don’t tease me love,” He grumbled softly.

“Like you teased me earlier?” You hummed, quirking an eyebrow up.

“Alright, so I owe ya an apology,” Niall mumbled, leaning in to kiss you quickly, mumbling against your lips quickly. “I’ll make it up to ya later, how about that?”

“Deal, Horan.”

Yeah, it was hard to leave your little one at home for that long.

Spending half of a day without her made you worry and it made you stressed, but it also made coming home much sweeter than it had ever been before.

[peterkayscarshare]

Yesterday, Today & Tomorrow  By OverTheRainbow Chpt 5

Chapter 5: One Month Later....

She'd spent every weekend for the past four weeks travelling back and forth to Preston. Mandy had gone house hunting with her. Originally it had been flat hunting with the intention of one bedroom and possibly a balcony, or at least enough space for a window box but Mandy insisted she get two bedrooms to allow for regular visits and so when they widened their search and found a little terraced house in a quiet part of town with a small garden, the deal was done. The landlord was happy for her to modernise the decor, provided it stayed fairly "neutral" and having been introduced to Misty, he had no objections to Kayleigh's canine housemate. She would be earning more in her new job and with the prospect of bonuses for hitting her targets; the little house was well within her budget. She had annual leave still left to take, so she would finish up on the Wednesday and start moving in the day after. She'd bought a new bed and sofa that were due on Thursday. BT and Sky were due on the Friday. All being well, she'd have her bits and pieces in place before she started her new job on Monday. All that was left was to say goodbye. The process had already begun. Customers and reps that she'd come to know and chat to over the years, who knew she was leaving, stopped by to wish her well. Her leaving do was on Friday. It would coincide with the departure of Ted 2, or Ethan, as Kayleigh now knew him. He'd made a point of saying hello when he realised they'd both be leaving at the same time. She'd initially been flustered like a schoolgirl when he spoke to her but she soon realised the inherent stupidity of her embarrassment. Ethan was great kid but he was just that, a kid. A "Manbo" as Elsie might say. In fairness he had beautiful manners and displayed more emotional maturity than some she could mention, who had a good couple of decades on him. Still, the least said about that the better.

She'd been stunned when John announced her name for the Christmas Team. She'd just assumed she'd be replaced, after Cath Hilton told him she would be leaving soon. Instead, he'd insisted she should be a part of it. In some ways it had been cathartic. They'd been forced to be in each other's company on a regular basis over the past few weeks and slowly but surely Kayleigh was finding herself becoming more comfortable around him. The happy intimacy they'd once shared had been replaced with something else. She wasn't sure how to define it exactly, but they were talking....at least to the extent that it allowed them to function and that was the main thing. She couldn't simply turn off her feelings. God knows she wished she could. She'd concluded that it really wasn't his "fault" that he didn't love her. It wasn't exactly something you could force. She couldn't will him into it. In some ways it might even be a blessing. There could be nothing worse than being with someone who was there only through a sense of obligation. She didn't want to be another Charlotte. She'd occasionally catch him staring at her when she wasn't looking and her ideas always seemed to attract additional attention from him but she just assumed that it was simply his way of showing he wanted to make amends. She was growing tired of being sad, hurt and angry. She couldn't keep on analysing his every action. Tormenting herself with a past she couldn't change and a future that would never be. She was physically moving on. Maybe it was time she began the emotional stage of the process.

After much debate, the team had come up with a "theme" for Christmas. "Peace & Goodwill to All". It seemed appropriate given the year that had been. It would have traditional and modern elements. An indoor mini Christmas Market that would celebrate the best of British, with a nod to cultural diversity. Kayleigh had loved the idea and pointed out that it would be a great way to up sell products, by demonstrating how traditional ingredients could be given a modern twist. John had nodded enthusiastically and noted it was a "Great point that, Kayleigh." It earned him a slightly pained smile but he seemed happy to take what he could get. The part of her that still loved him couldn't help but want him to succeed. She knew there was a promotion in it for him if he did. She found that despite her very best efforts, she couldn't bring herself to begrudge him that. Maybe it would make him happy. Or at least provide one of those fleeting moments of happiness that he was content to "settle" for.

They'd gone for a traditional Twelve Days of Christmas lighting display. "I'd be chuffed if my "true love" gave me five gold rings…to be fair, I'd settle for the Lords a' leapin...but if he turned up on my doorstep with a bloody partridge in a pear tree, I'd shove it up his arse!" Elsie cackled long and loud. "There wouldn't be a second day of Christmas, I can tell ya! Bloody bird shit everywhere!" It made Kayleigh chuckle too. John simply squeezed his eyes shut tight in disgust and shook his head. "Sure I'm only havin a laugh. What would we do without laughter eh Kayleigh love!? Hey, Mr Redmond! What are you gettin your "true love"?" Elsie regretted the words almost as soon as they left her mouth. She wasn't usually one for regrets but she did like Kayleigh and she had a soft spot for John. She wouldn't seek to deliberately hurt either of them. It didn't exactly take a sensitivity she didn't possess, to know that something had gone very badly wrong between these two. As an agonisingly awkward silence ensued, Elsie did what only she could do...she filled it. "Sure don't be tellin us. I don't want my surprise ruined...I know you're lookin forward to fillin my stockin…aren't ya!?" "It'll be a bloody P45 with a big red bow on it if you don't get back to work". Elsie lent conspiratorially towards Kayleigh, "So sensitive that one...but he loves me really." With a final hearty laugh she was gone. Leaving John and Kayleigh standing there, trying to avoid eye contact. Finally, as John moved to leave, Kayleigh suddenly said, "John." He turned around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, with an eager expression, bordering on desperation, he said, "Yeah". "I wanted to give you this." He looked down at an oil stained brown padded envelope. "What's this?" "It's the 140 quid I owe you." "I wasn't expecting to get it in used notes in a brown envelope. You gonna give me my instructions and a code word next." He smiled. Kayleigh didn't find it funny. Steve and Mandy had insisted on scrapping together most of the money from their "holiday jar". Mandy felt bad about inadvertently locking her sister in and Steve felt bad about the whole phone situation, or rather, had been made to feel bad about it, by Mandy. Despite Kayleigh's pleas that it wasn't a big deal and that she would pay, they'd accept no argument. Hence the cash in hand and the oil stained envelope which Steve had forced on her as she'd left for work that morning. "I'm sorry it's not a BACS transfer. Maybe you'd have liked it deposited in your Swiss Bank Account." Oh Christ, he'd done it again. "No! I was just jokin...I, I didn't mean..." "Yeah. I'd forgotten that words aren't really your thing, are they?" With that she stormed off.

How the Hell did that happen?! He couldn't even open his bloody mouth! Aw stick this! He'd had it. He was sick of it. They're all the friggin same! The sooner she was gone the better. He got in his car at 5pm, put on his seatbelt and didn't look back. He brooded to the point of simmering fury. He hated the world and everything in it. He sat at the traffic lights and looked at the other poor sods around him, all stuck in their metal cages. Living their mundane lives....It had been raining today but the early evening sun was making an effort and suddenly, there it was, he could see it in the distance...a perfect rainbow. Radio 5 Live was analysing Prime Ministers Questions but John was miles away in another time and another place......"I have always fancied someone reading out the lyrics to S Club 7 "Reach"". "That's a bit chipper for a funeral innit?!" "Well they won't be singing it. Just reading the words out....When the world leaves you feeling blue, you can count on me, I will be there for you." "How? You're dead." "I'll be speaking to everyone from Heaven....When it seems all your hopes and dreams are a million miles away, I will reassure you." "What you on about?" "Reach for the stars, climb every mountain higher, reach for the stars, follow your heart’s desire, reach for the stars and when that rainbow's shining over you...that's when all your dreams will come true...and I'm the rainbow...so whenever anyone sees a rainbow they'll be thinkin of me." God...if only he could stop. He heard a car horn sounding somewhere behind him and realised he was still stopped, on a green light. He was shaken out of his revere, waved an apology, hit the accelerator and kept driving. He wanted to be angry, to hate her, to see her as "just another woman". To write her off as another neurotic. To say goodbye and good riddance...but he couldn't. He loved her. He'd fallen for her from the day she threw her piss in his face and he'd kept on falling. It didn't matter how hard the landing had been, he still loved her and he always would. When he got home the contents of the parcel he'd been so anxious to receive all those weeks ago, sat on his mantelpiece. He couldn't return it and yet keeping it was impossible. It merely added to his misery. There was nothing else for it. It was time to deal with it, once and for all.

The remainder of the week had crawled by at a snail’s pace but was largely without incident. For Kayleigh her days were filled with goodbyes and good wishes, her evenings with packing and planning and her nights with sadness, regret and dreams of what might have been. For John, his days were an endless slog of trying at all costs to focus on his work, his evenings, of thinking about how he'd keep focused tomorrow and his nights, with trying to focus on anything other than Kayleigh Kitson. Friday eventually arrived. It was her leaving do and Kayleigh was miserable. It was also Ethan's...and he was anything but. Jenna had come down from Scotland and he was a delighted and attentive boyfriend. Together they looked like they'd stepped off the cover of a magazine. Kayleigh mused that they were two people unlikely to ever grace the pages of HeartSearchers.com. They didn't need to search for love. Love found them. Love always found people like them. It couldn't find her if she wore a high vis jacket and stood under a flashing neon sign. John hadn't shown up. As she stood amongst the crowd in the Poachers Arms, holding her glass of Prosecco with a fake smile on her face, she'd never felt more alone. She heard Jenna's soft lilting Scottish accent next to her, "Excuse me. Kayleigh?" "Yes." "I'm Jenna, Ethan's girlfriend." "It's lovely to meet you Jenna." "Likewise. I hear you're leaving too". "Yep. Off to Preston." "Is your partner going too?" "I'm sorry, my what?" "Eh...your partner? Ethan mentioned that he worked here too...John isn't it?" "I'm sorry you must have..." "It's just that I wanted to say thank you. I'm just sorry he isn't here to say it in person." Kayleigh's curiosity was peaked, "Thank you for what?" "Didn't he tell you? Modesty. That speaks volumes about the man. You probably know that Rob, Ethan's Dad and Barbara's husband, hasn't been well lately. It's been a nightmare for them. It turns out that Rob will need further tests in London but the cost of travelling down there and overnight accommodation was going to be so difficult to manage. Rob's self-employed and without his wage and trying to make ends meet on Barbara's salary, it's just been so hard. Ethan does what he can but he's in Edinburgh during term time and his brother's still at school. It's been such a struggle. To cut a long story short, John put in a request for financial assistance to the company's benevolent scheme. We just heard that Barbara will get a grant to help with travel and accommodation costs. John also gave Ethan a bonus for his "Outstanding Customer Care". It's a couple of hundred quid. He's over the moon!" Kayleigh was stunned. "Anyway, I just wanted to ask if you would pass on our thanks.....by the way, Ethan says you're such a lovely couple." With that, Jenna wandered off, to rescue Ethan from a throng of female admirers which included Joyce Chung and Diane off Non Foods and leaving Kayleigh to pick her jaw up off the floor.

The area Manager Alan Campbell presented her with a bouquet of flowers and a cheque for £350. He called her Kylie twice, to barely suppressed laughter. She wanted nothing more than for this night to end. As the music got slower and the crowd got ever more drunk, she ordered a taxi, said her goodnights and left. She'd see them on Monday for her final three days. As she headed off into the night she couldn't help but feel hurt that he couldn't even be bothered to show up. He hadn't even tried to say goodbye. No one knew why he didn't show. Many suspected. Cath Hilton told her he was on a residential course next week. That was it then. She wouldn't see him again. It really was over. It was two days later that she decided to put pen to paper and write him a letter. There were a few things she needed to say and some things he needed to hear.

Dear John,

I'm not really one for letters as a rule. I may be a woman of many words but few of them are ever on a page. I know that probably surprises you, in absolutely no way! Joking aside, I suppose I just felt that there were some things I needed to say and in your absence, I had no one to say them to. I want you to know that I don't hate you. Genuinely, I don't. You were right. I always assume. That's my problem, well one of them at least. I let myself believe that you felt for me, the way I felt for you. It's not your fault that you didn't and that you don't. I can't blame you for that, or at least I shouldn't.

I need you to know that our friendship, for the precious time we had it, meant the world to me. You were one of the very best friends I've ever had. I can't remember a happier time in my life than sharing your car every day. Laughing and singing and putting the world to rights. I'm glad you seem to have overcome your aversion to people singing in your face. Maybe I've shown you it can be fun. If so, then my work here is done. I suppose it is anyway. I'll always cherish those times. I want you to know that I wish you everything you wish for yourself. I hope you find contentment, wherever your journey takes you. I hope you keep gigging with Compendium (you've got to be impressed that I got the name right for a change). You should never give up on your dream. Reach for the stars. Sometimes you'll miss but it doesn't mean it wasn't worth the effort. I'm sorry we never got to say goodbye. Please take good care of yourself John Redmond. I'll never forget you.

Your buddy,

Kayleigh xx

She wiped the tears from her eyes as she finished and placed the letter in an envelope. She'd leave it in his pigeonhole at work. He'd get it when he returned on Thursday. By then she'd be in Preston and starting a new life.

He'd worn his snazziest shirt, a pair of dark jeans he liked and a splash of Calvin Klein. It may be completely futile but it was worth the effort. She was worth the effort. He was going to be a grown up. Tonight was her leaving do and he was going to talk to her. Properly. He was going to tell her the truth. All of it...and then he was going to finally deliver the contents of that parcel. He picked it up, turned it around in his hand, grabbed his car keys and his jacket and set off. Tonight was the night. Tonight would change everything, one way or another. He'd been driving for ten minutes when the phone rang. It was Paul. He'd just had a call; Sophie had fallen at Beavers on Ice. It sounded like she'd broken her arm. She wanted her Uncle John. John pulled over to the side of the road and ran his hand across his forehead. He adored the kids. Sophie was his little Princess. The thought of her in pain and wanting to see him was too much to bear. "Where is she?" he asked. "They've taken her to A&E at the Infirmary. Thing is we're at a Rotary Club dinner. We're half way through a four course meal. The bloody Mayor's on our table and you know I mentioned that tender we're working on...." John put his head back and let out a long breath. "I'm on me way". "Thanks John. You're the best. Listen, tell her Mummy and Daddy love her loads and we'll see her soon. Let us know how you get on. Make sure you phone if they discharge her. We don't want to go there if we don't have to. Parking at the Infirmary's a nightmare and Angela has a thing about hospitals since that in-growing toenail thing. I'll call Nana and tell her she'll have to keep Ben for a bit." "Yeah. Fine." "Thanks again John. Try and get there as quick as you can eh." With that he hung up. No, "Did you have plans tonight"? "Am I inconveniencing you"? "Where you planning on telling someone you loved them and wanted to spend the rest of your days with them"? "Aww, sorry about f'in up your life". He looked at it. Sitting there on the passenger seat, taunting him. There was nothing he could do....he was sure she wouldn't take his calls anyway and this was something he needed to do face to face. He headed to A&E. It was nearly midnight before they finally left. Sophie, in her Elsa costume, her little arm in plaster, weary and tearful in her Uncle John's arms as he sang "Let it go" softly to her and she tried to duet. She was more upset about messing up her routine than breaking her arm, it seemed. After he'd got her booster seat out of the boot and strapped on her seat belt, he'd taken the contents of the parcel from the front passenger seat and placed it in the glove compartment. Best not to think about it now. By the time they got back to Paul's she was asleep. He handed her gently to Angela who took her upstairs to bed. Paul thanked him, asked him how things were with him and before he'd had a chance to answer, told him all about the tender and what it would mean for the company and had John ever thought of joining the Rotary? He hadn't. John said he'd call tomorrow to check on Sophie and left. The leaving do would be over now. There was no point trying to go to the Poachers Arms at this point. It was done. Over. He'd never see her again. "If it's meant to be, it'll be". It clearly never was.

She'd left her note in his pigeonhole on Monday. He'd gone to the residential in Leeds. She spent her final two days doing a handover to her replacement, a 22 year old pretty blonde called Kim. Rachel already hated her. She was attracting the attention and approval of many of the staff and customers, admittedly most of them male. She'd have no problem flogging her Dairylee Dunkers. That she was also a lovely, fun young woman would also help. Kayleigh liked her and smiled when Kim said how sad she was that she was leaving, as she thought they would have become good friends. She'd finally left on Wednesday to cards, balloons and tears. Promises were made to "keep in touch" amid pleas not to "be a stranger". She'd finished packing up Mandy's Citroen that evening and headed off to Preston for her first night in her new home, sleeping on an air mattress.

The residential had been a write off. Litchy had spent most of it trying to pick up the hotel receptionist and calling him a "boring bastard" for not playing along. His mind was literally miles away. Counting down the hours until she would be gone. He drove to work on Thursday like a zombie. He collected his mail from his pigeonhole and went to his office. He received an email from Alan Campbell. Head office liked his ideas for Christmas. He wanted to meet him at 2pm. He had some great news. He started to open his mail but was distracted by the arrival of Joyce Chung in a right flap. From what he could gather the words Elsie, Rachel and a right hook sounded ominous. It proved to be just that. They'd had an altercation when Rachel remarked on Elsie "tasting" the new smoked salmon quiche. Rachel was now wearing several quiches and an ice pack over her right eye. Elsie was missing several hair extensions and had scratches on her face that looked like she'd been tackled by a feral cat. There was some debate about who struck who first. Although that Elsie had called Rachel a "Two bit, arse kissing whore", was not in dispute. Both women were sent home pending an investigation. By the time he'd calmed everyone down, written an incident report and re-staffed the deli counter, it was lunch time. He'd also become one of the very few male members of staff to be disappointed by the sight of Kim. He was now on the list with Nick in electricals. Nick had been hoping for another Ethan. John had been hoping for a change of mind that never came. Alan Campbell gave him the news that he was in line for promotion. It would most likely mean a change of store but it was a great opportunity for him. It all felt strangely flat. A promotion in a career he never really wanted and the one person he wanted to celebrate it with was gone. It was almost 5pm by the time he got round to opening his mail. That's when he noticed the handwritten envelope. He opened it, unfolded the letter and read its contents. By the end the tears had rolled off his cheeks and splashed on the paper. He sat for a moment, trying to order his thoughts into some kind of coherent action. Finally, it all came together in his mind and a truce was called in the seemingly never ending war between his heart and his head. He knew what he needed to do and he was damn well going to do it. He dried his eyes, grabbed his car keys and left. He checked the glove compartment of his car and before he knew it, he was en route to Bury and he wasn't going to stop.

Steve was in his usual location, tinkering with his ever uncooperative bike. The sight of the familiar red car pulling up alongside him caused him to do a double take. John was out of the car like a man possessed. Before Steve could ask him what he was doing there, or give him a bollocking for ruining Kayleigh's life....or seek his advice on the compressor...he said, "Where is she Steve?" "I'm not sure she'd want you to know mate". John looked up at the window of the box room. The lamp was gone...he couldn't dwell on that now; he had more important matters on his mind. "I know that…and I understand why you might not want to tell me but listen...I love her Steve. She's every bloody thing in the world to me and I need to see her. I need to tell her that and if she tells me where to go then fair dos. I've tried. I need to try, just once in my soddin life, I need to try...please...help me mate...tell me where she is". Before Steve could reply, Mandy's Citroen pulled up. She jumped out immediately. "Oh, now I don't believe THIS!" Steve tried to calm her down, ""Mandy listen..." "Don't you Mandy me! What the hell is he doing here!?" "I know we've only met in passing and you don't know me but..." "Oh believe me, I know enough sunshine! I know more than enough. I know everything I need to know! You broke my sister's heart. You drove her from her job and from my home and you have the gall to show up here?! You can piss right off....go on, get lost! NOW!" John stood his ground for a few seconds and looked at Steve. "Mandy give us a minute please". "You what!?" "Just go inside. You're making a spectacle for the neighbours" "Stuff the f'in neighbours!" "Go inside Mandy. The kids are home. Don't let them see you shoutin the odds in the street." She considered this for a moment. Looked daggers at John, called him a "Selfish, heartless bastard" then went inside. Steve looked at John who appeared well and truly crushed. After a moment he said, "The Kitson's make tough women.....are you sure you're ready for that?" John looked up and saw the smile growing on Steve's face. "I'm ready", he replied. "Well, if you've the balls to stand there and take Mandy in full flow, I think you've got what it takes." Steve reached into his pocket and took out a small notebook. He reached behind his ear for a pencil. He scribbled down an address and handed it to him. "Good luck mate...you're gonna need it". "Thanks. I won't forget this". As he headed to the car John turned, "Maybe put in a good word for me if you get a chance?" "Listen. You make Kayleigh happy. You won't need me to give you a reference." John smiled, got in the car, set the sat nav for the address in Preston and was off. Steve watched him go with a smile. He momentarily contemplated talking to Mandy, and then said aloud, "Nah. I'll leave it for a bit."

John turned on Forever FM for the first time in weeks as he headed up the motorway to the strains of John Parr's "Man in Motion". He was soon singing along. This wasn't going to be easy but it would be worth it. If nothing else she'd know how he felt. She deserved that. The sat nav took him on a detour as soon as he arrived in Preston. Nothing new there. "I don't think you've got a clue where you're goin love...you and me both eh....this can't be right...I've been down here three times already…you're off your tits...I'm gonna stop and ask someone...bloody piece of shit!" Finally, he arrived. Number 121, Evergreen Road. A little terraced house. He reached into the glove box, took out his precious cargo, held it in his hand for a moment, and then got out of the car. It was two or three steps at most to the front door but it felt like the journey of a lifetime. He rang the doorbell. Beyonce's "Single Ladies" rang out. She must have kept that from the old house he thought. He heard her voice down the hall, "Just a second, I'm on me way!" He loved that voice. When the door opened, she was standing there in a pair of denim dungarees with one strap undone and a long sleeved white t-shirt underneath. She had a paint brush in her hand and the dungarees were splattered in white paint. Some of it was on her cheek. Her hair was tied up haphazardly in a bun with pieces falling out around the side of her face and down her neck. She looked slightly flushed...and she'd never looked more beautiful to him.

For a few seconds she stood there. Her mouth open slightly. Just looking at him. Then she regained her composure. "John!" "Yeah. It's me." "What are you doing here?!" "I was hoping I could talk to you." "Now? You want to talk to me, now? It's not exactly a great time." She looked down at her attire. "You've been painting". "Nah. I was heading out for a date." His face fell. "Really!?...oh I'm sorry...if this is a bad time…" "Don't be daft! I was being sarcastic. What kind of date would I be goin on dressed like this?!" "Paintballing". He smiled. She laughed, despite herself. He always could find a way to make her laugh, like no one else. "Well, I suppose you best come in then. I was about to make a brew. Might as well make two." "Thanks...I thought you'd never ask". "I didn't....So...I'm guessing Steve" "Steve?" "How you got my address" "Yeah. Don't be angry with him." "I'm not. I don't have to be. Our Mandy'll kill him" "Well I'm hoping he won't have died in vain then". Kayleigh went into the kitchen to put the kettle on and lay out the mugs. John looked around the little living room. Small but cute. Like Kayleigh. He liked what she'd done to it already. He looked through to the kitchen; her back was to him, at the sink. There were pretty pink flowers on the windowsill…and then he saw it...the heart lamp…she hadn't thrown it away. She couldn't bring herself to bin it. "I'm hoping the smell of the paint won't kill off me plants. It's already knocking me out and I've got every window open. Then again, maybe that's not such a good idea. The cold probably won't agree with them either. I've always loved flowers but I don't think I'm very green fingered. My Mum is though." This was Kayleigh. She was nervous and desperately trying to fill the silence, so he seized the moment, "I got your letter"....it stopped her cold. "I got your letter Kayleigh" he repeated. She closed her eyes for a moment at the sound of him saying her name once again. She turned to face him and sighed. "I really wanted it to end John. The anger. I wanted it to end. I want it to end. I'm exhausted." "Me too." "I just want us both to move on...ya know?" "What if I don't?" "What?" "What if I don't want to move on? What if I want to go back....Go back to before you left my car. Go back and say what I wanted to say. What I should have said".

Kayleigh reached behind her and grabbed the edge of the sink. She was sure her legs were going to give way. He was on a roll and he wasn't going to stop. "I want you to know that I'm sorry. More than I've ever been in my whole life. I was a coward. The thing is, you terrify me." "I terrify you!?" "Yeah. I'm Kayleigh phobic." "Don't make a joke of this John". "I'm sorry. That's what I do. I avoid things. I play them off. I deflect. Not because they don't matter but because they do. You do. You matter to me more than anything. I was so scared of losing you...and then I did. You've no idea how many times I've replayed that bloody conversation, wishing I hadn't been such a dickhead. Wishing I'd just been honest and said what I meant." "What did you mean?" "I sent a text to Forever FM....but you missed it...Nobody puts Kayleigh in the corner". Her eyes went wide as the significance of those words began to dawn. "Yeah. You got out of the car just before they read it out. They played "Kayleigh"....by Marillion, 1985.... I loved that song....can't listen to it now". "John..." "What I should have said was that I love you Kayleigh Kitson. I did then, I do now and I always will. You make me happier than I ever imagined it was possible to be and being without you, these past few weeks, have been a living hell. I know you've got this new job and this new house and this new life but....do you think you could find a place in it for me?... I can't face being without you. Waking up every day and knowing you're not there." There were tears in both their eyes now. She looked down at his right hand. "What's that?" "It's what was in the parcel me Nana was waiting in for. It was for you...it's for you...it's yours...from me…" Nervously, he passed over to her, a white box. She took it, looked at it and slowly opened it. With a sharp intake of breath, she reached out and touched a simple gold disk on a gold chain. There, etched on the front were the words..."Pure and Simple" in beautiful calligraphy. She looked up at him, "Turn it over" he whispered. On the back it read "I'll be there for you" and beneath it a J and K were entwined with a date below it. "It's the date of our first car share together...do you like it?...if you don't I can..." before he finished speaking she let out a sob, then covered her mouth. "Do you hate it?" She shook her head. "Do you like it?" She nodded. "I love it" she finally managed to say. "I really wanted to hate you, ya know? I did. It would've been so much easier to hate you but I can't and I don't and I never will....I love you John Redmond…God help me but I still do and I will do for the rest of my life." With that she put her necklace down on the kitchen counter, reached over to him, grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket, drew him to her and kissed him. At first he was wide eyed and stunned, then blissful happiness and long simmering passion overwhelmed him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and returned her kiss. Filling it with all the love and desire he felt for her. Without realising it they were soon so caught up in the moment that his suit jacket and tie were on the floor and they were heading backwards into the living room. As Kayleigh began to make light work of his shirt buttons and he fiddled hopelessly with the catch on her dungarees, there was a sudden thud, which prompted their temporary separation, followed by a curse emitting from John's previously happily occupied lips. "Oh John! Look! You've stood in me emulsion!" He looked down to see his right foot and lower trouser leg, coated in white paint. "Aw BUGGER!" She tried to stifle a giggle....then he looked up at her, smiled his very best cheeky smile and waggled his eyebrows..."You'll just have to help me get out of me trousers then...won't you" she laughed and so did he, then she threw her arms around him and they hugged each other tightly before he lifted her up spun her round then carried her across the room.

He pulled a sickie on Friday. If she could play him like a banjo fully clothed, then naked, except for her new necklace, she could play him like a Stradivarius. She jokingly thanked him for helping her test the springs out on her new bed, so enjoyably. He whispered, "I try...and if you give me time to catch me breath, I'll happily try again..." Later, he'd told her about Sophie and her broken arm. She said she couldn't wait to meet her and would get her something to cheer her up. She talked to him about what Jenna had said at her leaving do and told him it made her love him even more and she didn't think that was possible. The springs got another stress test....Eventually they ventured down stairs for something to eat. She made him a brew and a bacon butty, and then they decided to head back to his place to grab a change of clothes and some essentials for the rest of the weekend. They'd laughed, sang along to Forever FM and held hands like a couple of teenagers, on the journey back to Manchester. She admired his house, dashing from room to room before bouncing on his bed and offering to return his earlier favours...."Bloody hell woman you're insatiable", he laughed. "You're addictive", she giggled. He stopped at Big Bobs Munch Box and they had a couple of Fat Boys, before going to see his Nana. Armed with a Dairy Box, Kayleigh was an instant hit. Nana loved Corrie and the two women bonded over the latest gossip. It delighted John. As they left, Nana thanked him for the Dairy Box, which left him speechless, told him she was proud of him and his new promotion and kissed both John and Kayleigh on the cheek before whispering to John, "She's a lovely lass". John whispered back "I know". "What was that?!" Kayleigh called from the pathway. "Never you mind!" he replied and winked at his Nana. They set off back to Preston and spent the rest of the weekend together making up for lost time. He had a long commute to the store on Monday morning but he couldn't care less. It was worth every minute. Leaving her that morning had been agony but he knew he'd see her later and that was bliss. She was getting her new company car and she couldn't wait to show it off to him. They'd called each other at least a dozen times and texted almost as much with several being little more than, 😘💏 and ❤. He was happier than he'd ever been when they sat together that night eating a Spag Bol they'd prepared together. She was telling him about her day and what she'd be doing and her training and he was simply delighting in watching her. He was so proud of her. He loved her so very much. He knew in that simple moment exactly what he wanted. When she finished speaking he said, "Will you promise me something?" "Yeah...what?" "Will you promise me we won't have "Runaway" as our first dance?" A slow smile grew on her lips as she realised what he was saying, "Are you asking me to marry you John Redmond?" "You haven't promised me yet" "You haven't answered me yet". He laughed and so did she. Then he got up from his chair, got down on one knee and took her hand..."Kayleigh Kitson, will you make me an even happier man than I am right now and marry me....subject to an agreement on our first dance...?" "Yes. Yes I will." After they'd kissed he said, "I've not got you a ring yet but we'll do it at the weekend. It'll give you a chance to Google and find something you like...within reason...I may be about to become a Store Manager but I'm really not Lord Sugar." "Oh Sugar shumugger...your mine....and I love ya!" As she ran to grab the phone he asked, "Where are you off to!?" "We're engaged John! I've got to tell me Mum and Dad and Kelly and Kieron and Mandy!" With that she disappeared into the hall...only to pop her head round the door again..."Don't worry...I'm not running away". With that she smiled, winked and disappeared again he could hear her giggling as she went....resistance really was futile...

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Annie Mac shares her ultimate festival survival guide (and beauty essentials she can't live without)

https://fashion-trendin.com/annie-mac-shares-her-ultimate-festival-survival-guide-and-beauty-essentials-she-cant-live-without/

Annie Mac shares her ultimate festival survival guide (and beauty essentials she can't live without)

GLAMOUR was lucky enough to make the trip to Malta earlier this month to celebrate the fourth year of Annie Mac’s very own festival, AMP Lost & Found. It got summer off to a soaring start by kicking festival season off with the most amazing weekend of music, weather and beauty-inspo. We were totally spoilt for choice with the line-up featuring a huge variation of the world’s best DJs and acts, including Jamie XX, Four Tet, Diplo and J Hus. AMP Lost & Found makes a huge change from your standard British Festival; no wellies, no rain, no tents – just the gorgeous Mediterranean sun, an incredible castle-rave and glitter for days. We caught up with headliner, radio-hero and hair-goddess, Annie Mac, about all things, beauty, festival-survival and Malta.

What’s been your pre-festival beauty regime?

Topping up my spray tan as a priority and I’m getting my eyebrows microbladed for the first time ever, which is just changing my life. The idea of not having to fill in my eyebrows every day is just like, the best thing ever. 

This my new thing now, as I’m getting older I’d rather do stuff like that and not worry about my eyebrows for years. I’m also getting lash extensions, because it saves you having to put mascara on on a hot day and they last for like a month – so it’s just perfect.

What would you are the three most important things to pack for a festival abroad like AMP Lost and Found?

Phone charger, essential. You don’t want to lose your mates. Portable if possible, one that you can plug in a wall at night and bring with you during the day. 

Adapter. Anything like shades and stuff, you can buy at the airport. You need to have the technical essentials in order to be a happy person at two in the morning. 

You need a good face wipe situation. You know, I wouldn’t trust that you could get that in Malta.

So you’ve got your wipes, you’ve had your brows and lashes done. Are there any other beauty products you couldn’t go to AMP Lost and Found without?

Always use a foundation – MAC face and body foundation, no matter what. I mix that with MAC strobe cream and then plaster my face with it and it gives your face a really nice and subtle highlight. 

Also, my friend Jules Von Hep, who usually does my fake tan, has just started his own line of fake tan that you can get in Boots ‘Isle of Paradise’ and that’s sick. It’s got this little bottle, which is self-tanning drops and you just mix the drops into moisturiser and put in on your face. So, that gives you a really good tan base and it last like four days. I just think when you have a really good tan, it cancels out a lot of insecurities. 

17 of the best fake tans for golden holiday skin

So you’re all for the fake tan?

All for the fake tan. I’ve got more sensible in my old age. I went for a facial and this lady was like “clearly you need to deal with your sun spots”. And I was like “really, I would have just liked you to massage my face and make it feel nice”. She said that you should wear factor 50 whatever you do. So I do now, and I’m all about using fake tan.

Very sensible. So, when it’s the morning after a big night what do you do to get ready for day two?

First things first, I’ll have a Berroca. I’m a big BIG fan of electrolytes. So, I down a Berroca and I would try and eat something – I eat SO many bananas I worry sometimes that it’s unhealthy. I would bosh two Advil and just keep hydrated with loads of water and loads of Berroca. And when it’s a reasonable time, I might have another drink – maybe a Bloody Mary, just to take the edge off. But, you have to be careful with that because if you get into solid drinking again – then you’re in trouble, so I’d just have one.

Does the festival season have a knock-on effect on your skin, your body, your health, mind? How do you detox afterwards?

It’s about making sure it’s never too full-on, because I have a full-time job in the week, I have to really change how I approach it now. I do way less gigs, and if I do festivals on a Saturday, I’d always make sure my Sunday is clear.

I try not to stay over as often as I can, so that even if I’m home at three or four in the morning, I wake up in the morning and I feel like I have a full day and a night at home before I feel like I have to go again.

What would you say is your best festival memory?

OMG, that is SO hard. I did a gig at the Silver Hays stage Glastonbury about three years ago and it was kind of against all odds. I hadn’t had any sleep the night before, I was parked right behind a tent and had no sleep all day. But, it was really REALLY emotional and amazing because it felt like the entire crowd was really behind me. I actually shed a real tear (probably because I hadn’t had any sleep) but it just felt overwhelming in a positive way and it was just one of those gigs where everything went right, everything worked really well and positively.

So, I have to follow that up with… what’s your worst festival experience?

Years ago, when Global Gathering was still a thing, I played on the main stage and it was my first gig back after having my first kid. I was still kind of big and still wearing my pregnancy wear, so I was wearing this tent dress I’d got from ASOS. I was behind the decks so you could only see from my waist up. But, halfway through the gig a biblical storm happened, and in about ten minutes, the sky was black and there were just buckets of rain. I probably lost about two-thirds of the crowd because they all just ran for shelter. The rain was coming down so hard on my decks that we were having to wipe down each deck with a tea towel whilst the other deck was playing.

The worst thing was that it got really windy and my dress kept blowing up. So I was trying to hold my dress down with one arm and DJ with the other and there were loads of people behind me so I was totally aware that my knickers were on show. My manager ran onto the stage and was holding my dress down and then my tour manager came round with gaffer tape and had to tape my dress to my thighs while it was pissing rain and the whole crowd were running away.

13 festival hair ideas that make the flower crown look dated

What are your anthems for Summer 2018?

There’s a track by Denis Sulta who played for us in Malta, a Scottish guy who is becoming really popular. His track is called D.K.Y and it was something I actually played all last summer but it’s only just come out now and I feel like a lot of people are just discovering it. 

A guy called DJ Koze has a track called Pick-up, which is the ideal sunset, cool party track, it’s gorgeous string, it’s got a Gladys Knight sample – that’s the hottest record I’m really excited to play.

We’ve seen a rise of female DJ’s over the last few years, who are your favourites and who should we look out for?

I love a girl called Jayda G – she is so fun to watch, she plays everything from old R&B records, to disco and house. She’s one of those DJs that gets so into it, she dances like a crazy-woman; she’s really fun to watch and infectious.

A DJ called Peggy Gou plays amazing music and is also a wonderful producer. The Black Madonna is a firm favourite, she has insane breaths of knowledge when it comes to music; she will play anything from vintage hip-hop to classic jungle to the latest unrelated techno. She is one of these people who will take you on a journey, she’s really unpredictable in an exciting way and can totally flip the mood.

Monki is a long term friend – someone I’m a big fan of. I’m excited for Monki’s future as a DJ.

Tickets are now on sale for AMP Lost & Found 2-5th May 2019 www.lostandfoundfestival.com

Want more festival content? Check out our guide on the perfect festival clothing to make you stand out from the crowd.

How to… dress in festival clothing without looking like you’ve tried too hard

[dreamalittlebiggerhoney]

This blog is coming from a very naive point of view due to the lack of travelling prior to this holiday and but I’ll try to include more than ‘I went to Barcelona and it was warm’. However saying that, ‘I went to Barcelona’ and it blew my mind. It’s literally like visiting an art gallery except the gallery is an entire city. The architecture is insane which is unsurprising considering the city’s history of artists with Gaudi, Picasso and Miro at the top of the list.

It was Kien and I’s first holiday away together and the first that was more than just a long weekend. I think also the first one where it wasn’t raining in Cornwall or the Lake District. It was a kinda big deal finding out whether we would kill each other in the heat for an extended period of time but also super exciting to do our usual exploring in a different country.

The first thing we did after checking our bags was head down La Ramblas because that’s what everyone told us to do, but I wasn’t really interested in shopping at H&M and Zara when that’s a standard weekend in Birmingham and we were in BARCELONA on a Monday and not at work! The markets on the way down were so busy and full of colours and oh my, the fruit selection was vegan heaven. Then (after getting lost but insisting I knew the way) we arrived at the beach, had a paddle and had tapas by the sea.

Continuing to insist I knew the way we plodded, developed blisters, then hobbled back to the hotel, as Dan began to doubt me we stopped at a bar, because I liked the look of the terrace with dried lavender in beer bottles, for a cocktail – and to reluctantly look at the map only to realise 4 cocktails later that the hotel was at the end of the street but the bar played Nirvana and served free chillies and grilled artichokes in place of where you would normally get peanuts as bar snacks.

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To anyone thinking of visiting Barcelona, it goes without saying, as all of the travel guides and reviews have said it for me, that you absolutely 1000% have to visit la Sagrada Familia and bloody please book in advance. I am not an arty person. I wish I was, but I am not. Dan is. He is the person that reads every single plaque next to every single painting at a gallery, whereas I skim the room and maybe get caught on one piece and decide it means something completely opposite to what the artist intended. But this basilica will blow anyones mind. We stood outside it on our first day, repeating ‘wow’ as we noticed new details and intricacies of the building. Then had to pause our wow’s until a couple of days later because that was the soonest we could get in and see the absolute spaceship that should be the home of the elves in middle-earth that has been 130 years in the making.

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We did a whole ton of other touristy stuff and managed to fit in almost everything and some extra fun stuff. Although using the metro is way easier than London, I was still super proud of myself so we got to take a trip out to visit Castell Montjuic and caught a cable car up there for an extra €25 (and bought the €10 photo they take of you on the way up) instead of walking because the views were insane (and we did 26,000 steps the day before). There is also Montjuic cemetery which is a bit further out and off the tourist route slightly but really worth visiting if you plan it properly and don’t need a wee and aren’t hangry (which unfortunately was not the case for me). By the time we got up to the top of the castle it was misty but you could tell the panoramic view would have been ridiculous if it had been a clear day.

Surprisingly, it took 3 days to have my first ice-cream, but post ice-cream we did the Picasso museum. We didn’t have to book in advance, we queued but not for long. Again, for a non-arty person, it was still incredible to see this incredible portraits and landscape paintings, then seeing the dates and realising he was 14 and that made the paintings even more incredible. Then, you see him stop seeking approval because he knows he’s great. He barely did any commissions in his lifetime and painted abstract pigeons for a year because he could. He ALSO did the artwork for his favourite hang out, Els Quatre Gats (4cats), which is where he had his first exhibition and we had our first dinner of the trip!

The food was lovely and the perfect ease into spanish cuisine (and wine – Albarino while actually in Spain tastes SO much better). But the best meal of the holiday was at El Chigre, a teeny tiny restaurant that sits about 40 covers max. The menu was in spanish which is my favourite thing – I hate it when restaurants make it easy for you and give you an english waiter and translated menu, the struggle and risk of getting something weird is the best part of eating in a different country. Our waiter showed us the fresh catches of the day (so fresh that they still had the hook in) and offered to create a taster menu for us. Six courses, a couple of octopus tentacles and the most ridiculous cider machine later and our minds were blown by the catalan dining experience. This meal, plus the coffee, sealed the deal that Dan and I could move to Barcelona with ease, bar the language barrier but how much more do you really need to say other than ‘dos cortado, por favor’?

The last place we visited, also Gaudi related because the man was a genius, was Park Güell which was originally intended to be a housing development of 60 houses, only two were built and due to a lack of buyers, it is now a public park. It’s free to enter but you need to pay to enter the ‘monumental zone’ (it’s still pretty cheap). Even though it pissed it down and I was in Birkenstocks without a jacket, it cleared up just in time to get awesome views, again, of Barcelona and the park. Set aside a long afternoon because there is so much to see here, including the Gaudi museum (also his former home), but by 6pm in the evening with dinner plans at 7pm, we were totally cultured out and our feet were sleepy.

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Oh hey, we went to a chocolate museum and also got tattoos at @sta.demonia_tattoo_barcelona.

Then we came home and it was pants…

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Extra tips: 

Don’t be as scared of pick pocketing as people who have visited will try to make you, but…

Don’t be any less aware of your surroundings than you would in London or another city you don’t know. Just be a sensible person and don’t whip out €50 bills in front of everyone.

A macchiato in Barcelona is a ‘Starbucks Macchiato’, not the espresso with a dash of foam most of us have grown to love. A cortado is the closest you’ll get.

Some sights need booking 3 days in advance, if not more, so plan your time and stick to the time slots you are given!

When given the option to pay in euros or your currency, pick euros! The exchange rate is better.

Has anyone else done Barcelona recently? Leave comments and tips if you have any! 

The first european city break: Barcelona This blog is coming from a very naive point of view due to the lack of travelling prior to this holiday and but I'll try to include more than 'I went to Barcelona and it was warm'.

[dwestfieldblog]

UNNECESSARY WORDS

Unwanted advice, cautionary tales and Strange things in different systems....

Good evening...but I'll soon change all that...This is a song of hope....hope you like it... (Arf arf arf, etc)... get ready to learn the answer to the famous Zen koan: 'What is the sound of no audience clapping?' A living joke, well worth the price of submission, er admission. It's only a stage on the journey. I know why the bird cage sings....19 new songs (82 minutes) with all lyrics and tracks, recorded over 25 hours (so far...There is afierce savage joy in having an idea from nowhere and manifesting it almost complete within a day or even ten minutes after writing it. Almost like magick. The heart wants what it needs. And I WANT.

Surfing high on a crest of pure Gonzo adrenalin, anticipating the wipe out....'Discipline, discipline, we need some discipline in here'....Too right... Just on the off chance.....Voiding the Subject, ha ha....fire of the heart. Blessed Be. Amen, ahem.

In Prague this month (end of April) the next Million Marijuana March...arf again... A march?? A loopy shuffle perhaps. 'What do we want?'  Errrr... Cakes and chocolate? When do we want it?  Giggle giggle giggle.... Why are we here?  Oh, wow..... wow..... Ohhhhh...... err... what? Legalize it, you know it makes sensimilla. Bonfires on the lawn...Yum yum.... Psyche-delicious. Try three glasses of dark ginseng wine with fine powdered October mushrooms and a certain deep breathing exercise for a minute. The aeons open, time dilates and cries: 'Use your teeth!'.

'It never got weird enough for me'. (Hunter S Thompson.) 'Virgin Mary was tired, so tired'... of all the vanilla guerillas and the weekend warriors. Either go away or go all the way...(as Grace Slick used to sing). This wouldinclude rebelling against your own self, you weakling plastic amateurs. 'Persistence is all'. Crocodile tears from 'Onion Peelings'. The wolf is outside the door and has the key...and Satan will save your soul...for his private collection. But the devil has all the good tunes eh?

Anyway...God blessed Dr Eric Pearl by gifting him with The Reconnection. Precious few 'healers' deserve to be rich. Conduits all.... Hmm.. 'I think if you have therapy, it can have the effect of making you less productive but more creative'. John Cleese.  'What I like about laughter is that when people laugh, they can have new ideas' Dalai Lama from the same interview.

Some recent heart melting moments walking around in Spring rain, watching little creatures in small boots... one small boy, holding his grandfather's hand, scientifically stamping his foot in puddles. Or a girl alone alone, sitting thinking in waterproofs outside a circle of her schoolmates at a bus stop. I still deeply regret not having had a child of my 'own'. The Easter Oestrogen kicking in. Deep sigh. Too late old one, the end of your line of DNA. A good thing too... But the sadness hurts. It hurts and pain makes me angry. Wounded and damaged... go for a walk in the woods, lie down and die eh? Good to have a backup exit plan.

Meanwhile, some real news... Erdgogan the Turkish gargoyle assumes complete control, anyone with a mind and heart of their own over there is going to have even more serious problems from now. Cracks me up with a pure evil delight that the good folk of England, seeking to stem the brown flow of refugees from Muslim countries have now signed a contract with Turkey, part of which hinges on lifting the need for visas for their citizens to travel to the U.K. Meaning...yes, you get it....

NEVER trust the mass, NEVER follow them...or those with a cult of personality. Follow yourself. When making mistakes, make sure that they are your OWN mistakes. Speaking of which...

Early election in England. Ho Hum. A mandate for bloody Brexit. As said last month, one of the main reasons I am against it (other than the immense gullibility of the masses who have allowed their emotions to manipulated by opportunists who could not give a flying one for their country (note for English students, the expression is'not to give a flying f**k, meaning not to care at all.) is that 'we' are doing more and more BAD deals with scum swine to make up for the debt paying and coming shortfalls in revenue etc. Not just with Duck Fart and the Gargoyle but with Saudi Arabia too...last year, they were elected to the UN Human Rights Council. Think about that for less than ten seconds and cry a little inside. A country who refuse to evendiscuss their Rights record with anyone.

Speaking of which again...North Korea blah blah, let's hope China can bitch slap some sense into that pudding boy before the missiles start. Be a good test of their famous on-line capabilities if they could disarm all Kim Wrong Un's weapons before they can be fired.

Nationalism and xenophobia being encouraged and pushed along down the danger roads... Europe swells a little more each month with pregnant fascism. Notice how much Putin is smiling in photographs in the last few years? Cover his face and read his eyes. The master agitator.

Meanwhile, back again closer to home with the poor little middle aged ghost boy... the cold turkey is freezing me out...Trying to rail against all of my negative addictions at the same time, not because I enjoy suffering but because I demand to be a control freak of what I can be. Being controlled by that which I cannot/ do not really want to stop doing is not a good way forward for long. Many things are not a useful distraction. Sooner or later, physical control is taken away from us and all we are left with is our Inner Will. Spirit itself cannot be broken but the mind which believes in it, can.

 I surrendered to music decades ago. Give yourself to that which you consider beautiful.But fuck, the darker sides are sexy eh? Inhale the ether and pick up a quill pen by candlelight.

 Certain things should NEVER be mixed (would you like a list?) My recent alchemy was more twisted than I am. Throw caution to the winds but don't be surprised when it blows back (or up) in your face. Be certain of your chemical sources and never ignore the warnings written in memory. Just change the prescription and the scenery. And never get involved with crazy people unless your sense of fascination and love is stronger than the fear and doubt... And blackouts do not count as sleep. When the mind feels like rotating helicopter blades, the heart like a celestial lighthouse and the synaesthesia takes over again, channel the mania or fall.

Everyone is an artist, an architect, an engineer on the astral, aware of it or not. The imprints shift in waves, the waves shift an imprint and the accumulation constructs a reality for similar minded/vibrating types to visit. Heaven and Hell are self fulfilling prophecies, states of existence in dimensions of fluid Light. Once yet again, for the 23rd time, the map is not the territory. Frequencies resonate....

Pretended ignorance is no defence. Unless one is truly a moron. Hello friends! Lack of knowledge of the basics is a dire weakness after a certain age, all else is lie.  A meeting mask to mask. Un-censor yourself. Be real. Arf.

Occasionally though, you meet one of those whose level of intellect just makes them arrogant. At that point you start to think that various despots had the right idea...

Can't seem to stop writing 'songs' (he says, thus removing the blessing) The Westfields have been fallow for two or more years of desolation, seedless, drained, barren and now the whole damn farm is fecund and raring to go...it will all end in tears of one kind or another. Haven't bled for two weeks, so that must be good eh? Unless all the solid blood is now inching its way to my heart or brain. ...................................................................................(One day later I bleed onto a handwritten song I spent some hours on, rendering half of it illegible forever. Looked good though. A couple of weeks ago, I sent an sms saying 'I feel amazing' ... a couple of hours after that, had collapsed on a park bench and then blacked out in the bathroom. Dave, STOP tempting fate. Grow up boy. Who in time and space do you think you are? A drop inside the reservoir...

Studio fun...trying to play the piano...forget it...the well tempered klavir meets the bad tempered pianist. Perhaps better to stop trying and just play it. If I could actually write music I wouldn't go to bed until I collapsed. Why sleep? Way too many fans and critics seem to believe that musicians et al take drugs as mere recreation. The majority of musicians take drugs to be able to WORK, stay awake to record a thousand ideas, chase a riff, a sequence, a verse, play gigs, travel in crap vans, on crap buses, unwashed with permanent red eyes and aching bodies...and more drugs to make sure they get some sleep when too much adrenalin is still burning. Some of them take drugs to 'escape' themselves but this often has the effect of being surrounded by mirrors of the inner self. Which can lead to pure horror.

Still, stretching the perception is always useful. Up to a point. Of no return. All together now... 'We cross the Rubicon'....' Serenity is a problem when you get this close to Heaven'....Still in Coilworld two months later and loving it...'out of light cometh darkness'...

Next female T shirt seen in Prague (after the 'Special/Unicorn'one last month...'Change doesn't scare me...staying the same Does'....and a third girl wearing 'Goodnight Male Pride':-)

An hour ago (and sober/straight) I laughed so hard about Hairy Pothead and the Philosophers Stoned that I triggered yet another nose bleed, my own thought police won't even let me laugh now. ARF. Cynics often sound like realists but they really aren't. Never trust a cynic. And never trust anyone who says 'Don't trust anyone'. Get pissed, destroy? Get kissed beneath a May tree and ignore the news,read the energies...

Next batch of answers to my random sms... 'What advice would you give to ANYONE in the world'?  Been sending these to all ages and sexes....

Don't Lie 

Do things you will not regret

Look for your Honour

BeHappy.**************************************

And don't forget kids: 'Eternal damnation and suffering await all those who question God's infinite Love'. So sayeth Bill Hicks.

A ladder up to the stars, the old Tree of Life

Follow the flow of theheart

Spheres they will open by Grail and by Knife

The snake sends you back to the start....           (DW)