#magpie’s writing adventures

[many-gay-magpies]

new fic posted!

Ghosts cannot feel cold, but Charles is shivering, so hard it would be sending ripples out through the water if he were corporeal. Ghosts cannot get wet, either, but Charles is positively drenched, glistening curls sticking to his forehead and sending rivulets down his unsettlingly grey face. His deep brown eyes are wide, but not in the lovely, doe-gazed way that so often sends Edwin’s undead heart into a tailspin. Instead, they are wide in the way of a deer in the headlights; stock still in the face of oncoming terror. Paralyzed, not in the present, but in some past memory of dread—so consuming it blots out everything else.

“Charles? What’s wrong?” Edwin asks. Yet even before the question has left his mouth, he already knows.

—

A trap orchestrated by a deceased wizard drops the boys into the middle of the ocean, and Charles’s fear of water makes an appearance.

AKA I dreamt that Payneland smooched underwater (with some trauma hurt/comfort first) and had to make it a reality

[hussyknee]

If you aren't reading KJ Charles's books I sincerely do not know what you're doing with your life.

[queerloquial]

day one of getting back into mod creation

i swear it used to be easier to navigate in the cell render window?? or maybe i just had a worse mouse back in ye olde(rim) days. the current mouse requires Intent to press down the wheel

because i play with the entire jk's skyrim collection and thunderchild, i want the high hrothgar dorms to not inherently conflict with either, which means we're, uh, gonna have to do some suspension of disbelief when it comes to interior spaces vs exterior building that could conceivably contain them. just don't think too hard about the architecture it's fine it's fine

trying to balance out "what's the most creative yet plausible set of npcs i could make" with "oh gd if this goes on the nexus am i gonna have to deal with people going 'um Excuse Me how Dare you [blah blah blah]'" and not pre-emptively anxiety myself out of doing fun shit

(staunchly ignoring the question of voices for now because I'll Burn That Bridge When I Get There, and not a moment sooner)

okay but is it too far if i like. wrote some lil journals or whatever that imply one or more students could be dragonborn, cause like. i have Thoughts

[justsomerandomweirdo]

so i was going to write this in the tags but i've ended up cackling over my own bullshit because this is absolutely fucking ridiculous and there's way too much to just leave in the tags or a reply so sorry for the long post but here we go

first things first: i have only ever published one fanfic on ao3, so if we're only counting published fics then yeah sure 'untitled' i know what that one is it's the dumb jasico thing i wrote in like 2015-2016 which was like five sentences long or smth, the answer is yes

if we're counting the APPARENTLY OVER A THOUSAND unfinished unpublished word documents currently languishing in my 'Fanfics and shit' folder, the answer is a resounding No The Fuck I Would Not

holy shit there's so much going on here

so I've gotten slightly better at titling fics since the days when i would just call things 'bleh', 'oop de doop', 'wtf' or 'wtf au the fuckening pt 3', and now actually call these word documents (which will at best hold my attention for about three days and more commonly less than a single day bc i can never fucking stay focused on anything long enough to finish it) things like 'archivist sasha is good though', 'no eliot then' or 'sighs in self insert'

naturally those are still pretty vague so there's still enough confusion that i have to keep them in specific folders and sort by date modified rather than alphabetically, so i can see what fic came before 'that but more elusive' or 'that but Wit earlier and less assassining' or 'more spy though' or 'more nervous though' or... yeah

but at least i have the folders organised, you say! ahahahahahaha, no, no i do not have the folders organised. these folders are a mess of fics organised vaguely by vibes and fandoms, not helped by the fact that the majority of them are crossover fics for fandoms with very different vibes

for instance: where are the Alex Rider fanfics? yeah that's a very good question let me check. okay so the non-crossover fics are in the surprisingly helpfully named 'alex frickin rider then' folder, which lives in the 'dumb thing' folder inside the 'boop' folder. The 'boop' folder is actually for Foxhole Court fics - or no, it's specifically for crossover fics where Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender joins the Palmetto State Foxes, there was another barely-used folder for non-crossover aftg fics which i think just has in it like an au where Neil was a Raven or some shit, but I was simultaneously hyperfixated on Zuko and aftg for like quite a while so there's uh. Like well over two hundred attempts to figure out how putting Zuko on this terrible fucking sports team would go. Anyways, back on task, the 'dumb thing' folder was like few OC (really SI) type things bc i decided i had made my boy zuko suffer enough (and i should suffer instead), and the alex rider folder got put in there bc vibes. it makes sense in my brain i swear

anyways so where do the alex rider crossover fics go? good question, i think i know most of them but let me check! so the aftg crossovers are in the 'back to exy' folder in the 'alex frickin rider then' folder, there's a single really dumb hp crossover idea in a different subfolder called 'aaargh' about Julia Rothman having a magical child which will never see the light of day so long as jkr remains on her bigoted bullshit, and then we have to leave the boop folder entirely to search out the remainder. oh lmao i forgot what was in that 'sigh' folder hey i just found a foxhole court/mistborn crossover idea that literally only exists bc i thought of the sentence 'Ash fell from the end of Neil's cigarette' like hot damn that references the opening lines of both books if only i had a story to go with it, wait what was i doing oh yeah alex rider fics... okay so i think all of the rest of them are leverage crossovers and uh. so uh. so okay all the leverage fics live in the 'why' folder i think, except for that one crossover i just found in the 'leverage' folder at the bottom of the 'this now' folder which is for pjo fics, and the 'why' folder isn't actually for leverage it's for mistborn, but its where the leverage fics live in another 'leverage' subfolder bc heist vibes, except that subfolder is actually for mistborn/leverage crossovers and there's a 'modern' folder in that which is where the regular leverage stuff goes, except that's only got like two things in bc why have regular leverage when you can have 'eliot worked for scorpia before moreau' leverage, like seriously you know that bit in that warehouse scene where eliot shoots the guy behind him without even looking yeah now think about that bit in the stormbreaker film where yassen shoots that guy behind him without even looking you can't unthink it just accept Scorpia!Eliot into your hearts. so yeah there's an 'alex rider crossover then' folder in that - oh lmao there's another 'exy' folder in here the aftg fics are everywhere, but like jean moreau should clearly definitely be related to damien moreau that's just common sense and if we assume stormbreaker does in fact take place in 2001 then alex is the right age to join the foxes around 2005-2006 either the same year as neil or one before and you can actually do a fun thing with The Inside Job if you say that Wakefields actually used to be called something else before a merger with Greenfields, that evil gm wheat company from Crocodile Tears, so alex could be... (i continue infodumping about this nonexistent three-way-crossover, and a camera slowly zooms out to show me sitting alone at the center of the venn diagram of aftg fans, alex rider fans and leverage fans. a tumbleweed blows past)

anyways i think the best organised folder is probably the 'spoopy' folder which is for magnus archives stuff, im pretty sure no tma stuff has actually found its way outside that, though there are more crossovers inside naturally. there's a 'pjo crossover nonsense now' folder which is reasonably self explanatory, most of the barely-started fics in there assume Jonah Magnus is a son of Athena trying to escape death by creating his own new pantheon, then there's a 'cosmere nonsense bullshit' folder which only has one thing in it bc what if Fear was a Shard like can we let Cognitive Shadow Gerry say to Jon and Martin 'so yeah remember when i said there's no gods of love or hope or indigestion yeah actually turns out i was wrong there's a whole bunch of them actually it's pretty great', and on the subject of letting Gerry have nice things there's yet another fucking exy folder, called, 'tfc folder too big so crossover goes here' because Gerry can would and should be a Fox. lmao just imagine the moriyamas trying to intimidate him, this man has seen supernaturally induced atrocities your petty gang bullshit doesn't even register for him Riko you idiot, and then the foxes are incredibly fucking confused and concerned when Mary Keay shows up and Gerry's clearly more scared of this little old lady than anything to do with Riko and wait what do you mean she's your mother-

anyways pls remind me to go ask a doctor about adhd diagnosis bc i would like to maybe be able to finish writing a single thing in my life like ever

fanfic writers: if you were shown nothing but the title of one of your own fics, do you think you would be able to remember which one it is

[magpie-the-skykid]

my notes app holds the unpolished beginnings to so many fanfics

[disorganizedkitten]

Something is wrong in the Brazilian forests. Paco Ramos recruits Jade Chan to investigate. Harry Potter isn't a horcrux anymore, but he is still a parselmouth. He figures it's about time he embraces it; and Brazil has a lot of snakes.

[emmg]

Emmrich and Lucanis are the sugar daddies of the most deranged, broke-ass group of idiots in all of Thedas. It’s canon because I said it

Bellara doesn’t even know she’s supposed to be paid for work. Like, genuinely confused by the concept

Neve takes jobs from people who are basically paying her in promises and vibes

Harding lost that sweet Inquisition paycheck ages ago and is just scraping by on pure optimism

Taash probably has money somewhere but would rather set themselves on fire than spend a single coin

Davrin has more holes than socks. Assan eats his pennies

My Rook is a certified Lords of Fortune dumbass with the impulse control of a magpie and a “mild” case of kleptomania. She’s in debt to people she hasn’t even met yet

Meanwhile, Lucanis is out here with two mansions, the bougiest assassin rates in Thedas, and Emmrich has what’s basically tenure at Mourn Watch Trump University, walking around dressed like my house down payment. These two are 100% bankrolling this lineup of freeloader chucklefucks

Manfred needs pocket money? Emmrich’s got him, we all know that. Also slipping a little extra to his girlfriend because she’s, you know, decades younger and strapped for cash

Then the rest of these clowns line up like it’s Thedas’ Saddest Payday, Lucanis included (he’s just there to see how far he can push Emmrich)

Emmrich finally sets up a budget spreadsheet, Lucanis whips out an abacus, and Mondays are officially allowance day with Emmrich and Lucanis alternating who’s dishing out the gold each week

This group of morons has turned adventuring into take your sugar daddy to work day

Emmrich and Lucanis are now writing “Weekly Allowance” as a line item in their budgets

[pluckyredhead]

…Sorry if this is a bit weird but do you have any queer romance book recommendations? I ended up finishing the last binding trilogy because you posted about it (you have excellent taste lol) and I’m a bit stuck at the moment with what to read next.

Not weird at all! I absolutely have recs! Also Freya Marske has a brand new book out called Swordcrossed if you want more of her writing. (For people who are not anon: The Last Binding is an Edwardian historical fantasy romance trilogy and it's excellent.)

Okay recs:

KJ Charles: My favorite queer romance author, hands down, and also the most prolific! She's written over 30 queer historical romance novels (and one queer historical mystery), mostly M/M, all historical and set in the UK during various time periods ranging from the 1810s to the 1920s. My two favorite things about her work: 1. It draws very heavily on the history, meaning that her characters never come across like modern people in historical cosplay. And 2. she's great at creating genuine conflict between or around characters. I have read too many romances where everything is uwu softness and nothing hurts but Charles's characters are always either fundamentally divided by politics, class, ethical perspectives, lies, and/or tragic backstories, OR they get along fine but a murderer is trying to kill them, OR, in the best of her books, both.

My favorites are probably The Will Darling Adventures (1920s trilogy all about the same couple fighting a criminal secret society), A Seditious Affair (1810s, a radical firebrand and a Tory government official accidentally fall in love while having extremely kinky sex), An Unnatural Vice (1870s, "spiritualist" con artist and the crusading journalist trying to expose him), and Any Old Diamonds (1890s, The Saddest Boy in the World hires a sexy jewel thief to rob his horrible father, kink ensues), but you can really start anywhere - Think of England is where I jumped on and it's nice because it's more of a standalone (there is a companion book but Think of England comes first). If you liked The Last Binding, you might want to start with her Magpie Lord series because they are also fantasy romance. (Freya Marske is a big KJ Charles fan and it shows, in a good way.)

Allie Therin: Sticking with the fantasy romance angle here for a moment, Therin has a 1920s trilogy called Magic in Manhattan that is all about the same couple, a prickly magic-user named Rory and the big hunky WWI vet who loves him, as they fight various evil magicians. (HUGE oversimplification but you get it.) There's a spinoff trilogy, the Roaring Twenties Magic series, which has two books out so far. I love NYC, the 1920s, fantasy, and queer romance, so obviously I love all of this.

But I'm particularly obsessed with her Sugar and Vice series (also a trilogy, first book is out already and the second one comes out next month) which is set in modern day Seattle and is about an empath named Reece and the super dangerous empath hunter called the Dead Man who may or may not be here to kill Reece, and also there's a serial killer on the loose. This one is a suuuuuuper slow burn (they don't even kiss in the first book!), so you have to be patient but I read the second book early and yeah I'm obsessed and desperate to talk to other people about these books.

Charlie Adhara: More paranormal romance! I wrote about these books at greater length recently, but the short version is: FBI agent gets transferred to the super secret werewolf division of the FBI and partnered with a hot werewolf, they fall in love, spend five books developing into The Ultimate Power Couple, I'm in love with their love. There's a spinoff series called Monster Hunt but only one book is out so far.

TJ Klune: I probably don't have to tell anyone about TJ Klune anymore and I'll admit he can be hit or miss for me but I did really love Wolfsong. As long as we're talking werewolves.

Dessa Lux: Okay these are more erotica than romance but Omega Required is a comfort read for me, which is funny because I'm not usually an omegaverse gal. But this is about a very sweet alpha doctor who offers a marriage of convenience to a very traumatized omega and it's literally just nonstop cuddling and soup. She also has a series that's just ever-growing werewolf gangbangs, if that's a thing you're into. Like. A cartoonish amount of werewolves at the gangbang. It's delightful.

Cat Sebastian: I will admit Sebastian is also a little bit hit or miss for me. I loved her very first trilogy, the Turner series, which is very much in the vein of KJ Charles (Regency romance, class divides, lots of conflict). She wrote some more 19th century stuff after that and then moved into mid-20th century romance (50s-70s) which is honestly very rare. She also basically...stopped writing any conflict at all. I would say a large portion of her books after the Turner series can be accurately described as "two best friends who are secretly in love with each other sit in the same house/apartment and enjoy each other's company until they get together." I know a BUNCH of people who absolutely love that and they are well-written! But I really have to be in the right mood for them.

Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy: Okay I am not a hockey person, but you must, you MUST read Him and its sequel, Us. Hockey-playing BFFs, one is gay and secretly in love with the the other, the other one is like "I don't think I'm into dudes but I'd better give you 300 blowjobs to make sure." (Spoiler: he's into dudes.) Honestly the stupidest men imaginable. I love them so much. Bowen has written a few other queer romances solo and I'm working my way through her back catalog now.

Rachel Reid: Yes it's more hockey romance but. BUT. Heated Rivalry. Two of the top players in the NHL, on rival teams, have famously hated each other for years...and have secretly been fucking since they were rookies. Reid is another one where I'm still working my way through her books but Heated Rivalry is something special.

I am SURE there are more I'm forgetting but this is long so I'll stop it here for now! Also folks should feel free to reblog with further recs, she said selfishly.

[thescarletnargacuga]

WELCOME TO MY WRITING CORNER!

My name is Scarlet and I'm a hobby writer who enjoys The Amazing Digital Circus!

BE ADVISED: NSFW CONTENT IS PERMITTED

~~~

ASKS ARE: OPEN

~~~

PLEASE READ THE RULES BEFORE SUBMITTING IDEAS FOR ONESHOTS!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT with NSFW explicit content

DO NOT harass me about when fics will be done. They will be posted when they are finished. Creativity mustn't be rushed.

NO SUBMISSION IS GUARANTEED TO TURN INTO A FIC

Please divert all Raceway related requests to @theamazingdigitalraceway

Provide as much detail as possible for other AU requests

All TADC ships are welcome

Fic lengths will vary, I don't keep word counts

I do not do asks in chronological order, I do them in inspirational order

WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE:

Non-consent/SA

Underage shipping/proshipping

ANYTHING racist/transphobic/homophobic/etc

Gross/Extreme Kinks (you are welcome to DM me to ask)

Crossovers (it's a lot of work my brain can't handle)

~~~

TADC FANFIC MASTERLIST BELOW 👇👇👇👇👇👇👇

THE AMAZING DIGITAL RACEWAY

SHOWTIME

Creative Liberty

Date Night

Can't Help Falling in Love

Operation Breakup

Where Do Humans Come From?

Stay With Me

Sleep Mode

Digital Realizations

Breakdown

Love Language

Will You Ma-

Wedding Night (NSFW)

Lover's Quarrel

Magic Touch (NSFW)

Sniffles

Practical Effects

Possession

Green Is Not Our Color (angst)

Goodbye (angst)

Don't Say Goodbye (angst)

As Above, So Below (angst)

Mental Purgatory (angst)

Digital Hallucinations (angst)

BUNNYDOLL

Play Pretend

[%$!#] Me Yourself, Coward (NSFW)

Movie Night

Misery

BUTTONBLOSSOM

Toy Box

Haunting

MISC

Beach Day (fun adventure)

Nightmare's End (spooky adventure)

Don't Be Suspicious (some showtime and Circus shenanigans)

Chrysalis (Kinger angst)

Strength in Tragedy (Ribbun)

Romance (Ribbun)

Expression (zoomni)

Frenemies With Benefits (abstrabbit)

My Turn (funnybunnyshow)

Shadowed Admirer (SweetTooth)

Shadowed Love (SweetTooth)

Bubbling Interest (KingerxBubble)

Unwanted (Caine angst)

Abstract (Queenie poem)

The Unrendered (spooky scary)

BOXER AU

Knock Out (showtime)

DREAMLAND AU

I Wish... (Showtime)

Dreaming in Monochrome (Showtime)

KINGDOM AU

The Royal Gala (showtime)

My Hero (showtime)

ADVENTURE AU

Campfire Stories (all ships)

Adventure AU (showtime)

Adventure AU Cont (Showtime) (NSFW)

CARNIVAL AU

Trick or Treat (showtime)

Flirtation Frustration (Showtime)

Game Over (Showtime)

Light of the Carnival (Light!Caine)

HUMAN AU

Ladies Night (multi-ship)

Bath Time (Showtime)

The Flu (Showtime)

The Flu....Again (Showtime)

The Gift of the Magpie (showtime)

Expecting (showtime)

Guardian (Gummigoo)

TIME CAPSULE AU

Bullseye (Canon)

The Anniversary Ball (Canon)

Bushwhacked (Showtime)

Choice (showtime)

Pendulum (showtime)

Pendulum Epilogue

Worst Kept Secret (showtime)

Last Resort (Caine Songfic)

No Man's Land (showtime)

Aviation Enthusiast (showtime)

HARLEQUIN AU

Finality (Pomni angst)

Blooded Skies (Pomni soft canon)

The Bull (Caine Angst) (Songfic)

Chandelier (Showtime)

Defying gravity (Showtime) (Songfic)

Just Kiss (Showtime)

Say That Again (Showtime)

Down Boy (Showtime) (NSFW)

Soul Bearer (Showtime)

First Born (Cade Fluff)

Cade Canons

Half Siblings, Full Family (Cade and Anya Fluff)

Runaway (Cade Angst)

The Way Of The Combat Harlequin (Cade hurt/comfort)

Monster (Showtime)

Reach Out (Cade fluff)

THE UNSEEN SERIES (Harlequin AU fan series)

The Unseen (oneshot)

Seeing the Unseen (pt1)

Blade of Shadows (pt2)

Unseen Fragments (pt3)

Shadow Puppet (pt4)

I Am Seen (pt5)

Golden Soul (coming soon)

[blakbonnet]

Fic Recs For Getting Over Writers' Block:

To me, the only way to get over the writing horrors™️ is to read some good fucking prose. Even if the summary of these fics doesn't appeal to you, I'd suggest reading them purely for their tactile prose that somehow gets the brain working again.

General Block Breakers:

Magpie by yellowmustard

Skirts and Barbells by @petrichorca

Malleability by jazzxdaffy

The Nest That Hope Builds by @red-sky-in-mourning

Grounded by @forpiratereasons

So Long Seabird by @adamarks

Find Your Stede Voice:

Adventures of a Leggy Blonde by @palavapeite

Find Your Ed Voice:

You Belong in that Home by and by by @alchemistc

Stealing Romance by skrifores

[mrs-lockley]

Reach for the Moon | I. The Breaking

PAIRINGS: (Slow Burn, Romantic) Jake Lockley x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, (Platonic) Steven Grant x Southeast Asian!Fem Reader, (Unrequited) Marc Spector x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, no use of Y/N, no physical description of the reader

WARNINGS: Unrequited love (Reader is in love with Marc, Marc is oblivious but means well), first love and heartbreak, Reader knows limited Spanish, italics in dialogue indicates Reader and her parents speaking a foreign language (unspecified), mentions of divorce and a brief mention of the military 

WORD COUNT: 7.5k

SERIES SUMMARY: Inspired by the 1954 film & 1995 remake of Sabrina, No Moon Knight AU. 

To heal your broken heart from your unrequited crush on Marc Spector, your family sends you to Singapore to help establish your cousin’s bakery. You return to New York two years later as a more confident woman, but you find yourself picking up the pieces of your broken heart (again) after seeing Marc still holding onto his first love. Sensing the pain and heartbreak between you and Marc, Jake steps in as a white knight to create distance to help both of you heal, but he was never supposed to fall in love with you. 

Author's Note: Many thanks to @soft-girl-musings, @v4mpires0ap, @callingmrsbarnes for supporting me with this fic. It's been a long time coming 🤍 Special thanks to @flightlessangelwings for your guidance and advice on making writing more inclusive! Today is my birthday, and I wanted to share this to my dear friends who never gave up on me when I gave up on writing.

Tagging (but no pressure to read!): @writefightandflightclub @venting402 @musing-magpie @themarcusmoreno

THE BREAKING

You remembered your last night in New York— it was near the end of summer when you were set to leave to help your cousin establish her bakery in Singapore. While your friends and family were excited for your new adventure abroad, you had run away, letting your feet guide you to an all too familiar apartment building before you collapsed on the steps. Your heart was filled with dread, splintering into two like an old tree bending to the howling winds of sorrow and heartbreak. 

How foolish you were, you thought to yourself as you sobbed on the steps, your face buried in your hands as the tears continued to pour out of you. Your heart held no contempt for your cousin or the beautiful country of Singapore; you loved your cousin dearly and always wanted to visit her there, but living in Singapore for two years would mean leaving him behind.

Marc Spector, the man you loved for so many years. The man who didn’t even know you existed, the man who didn’t love you back. 

He was beautiful, handsome. Dark brown eyes and curly black hair, strong brows and the whisper of a five o’clock shadow kissing his jaw and cheeks. A smooth voice with a bit of a drawl that you found comforting and uniquely Marc. Broad, wide shoulders and sun-kissed tan skin, it did not take long for you to fall in love with him.

Like scenes from an old film, you replayed your cherished memories of him in your mind. His nose scrunching when laughing at one of your jokes, his proud smile when you showed him your college degree, his gentle lips on your forehead as he comforted you after a rough night. 

As much as you love him, shards of guilt tore through you. Deep down, you knew he was still reeling from his divorce, and that he still harbored feelings for his ex-wife. A few nights after the two of you had too much to drink, Marc would recount the memories he shared with her that were near and dear to his heart. Each time he mentioned her name, daggers were impaled through you. How could you let yourself fall for someone who only saw you as a friend and still had feelings for their first love? 

You had set yourself for heartbreak, and you had no one to blame but yourself as you tried to pick up the pieces and forget your feelings for him. Perhaps living in Singapore for two years would be for the best. You would make yourself forget about him and the distance would ease the pain and remedy the inevitable heartbreak that was soon to follow.

Before you could draft a plan, a pair of dark boots appeared in front of you, followed by the sound of a familiar voice calling your name in concern.

Your heart skipped a beat. 

“What are you doing out here so late? What’s wrong?”

You pulled the sleeves of your shirt over your wrists as you hastily wiped your tears, using your sleeves as a makeshift tissue. “I’m fine, Jake. I just got lost in my head, please do not worry about me.”

Your lips quivered and your voice trembled as soon as you spoke, a sob threatening to escape from your throat as another wave of tears pricked the corners of your eyes. How silly of you to fall apart on the steps outside of his apartment building- have you no shame?

To your surprise, a thin cloth was offered to you, pulling you out of your thoughts before you could spiral into self-degradation and pity. Hesitantly, you looked up at him to find his brown eyes softening in empathy. When you didn’t accept the kerchief right away, he gently gestured it towards you again, urging you to take it.

With a quiet thank you, you accepted it, dabbing your eyes and steadying your breathing as you heard him take a seat on the steps beside you.

“Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, but kept your gaze fixed on the cloth in your hands. Even though Marc and Jake shared the same face, Jake was different. You couldn’t bear to look at him— one look, and he would see right through you.

Instead of answering him, you observed the scene in front of you. Across the street, two lovers exchanged sweet words and loving promises. Down the sidewalk, children screamed as they chased each other down the block. Cars, buses, and taxis drove by in a blur with only their flickering tail lights indicating their passing presence. You thought back to the nights you spent with Marc, your arm linked with his as he walked you home after you finished your night classes at the university. He would listen as you vented about the assignments your professors piled on you in the middle of midterms and other projects with similar deadlines. 

“We’re proud of you, you know,” Marc said once you finished crossing the street. “Going to school to get your degree. I went straight into the Marines after high school and was discharged after …”

His voice trailed off, but you caught the stony expression on his face and the darkness that clouded his eyes. Your heart began to ache. 

“I’m proud of you, too,” you nudged him lightly. “You’ve been through a lot, but you’re still here. I think that’s something worthy and important to celebrate.”

You grinned as you watched a smile form on his lips. How rare it was to see Marc smile, but how sweet it was to be the reason behind it.

After a moment, you answered him. 

“I’m just sensitive, that’s all.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a minute as you both listened to the bustling sounds of the city. That was the thing about Jake Lockley– his actions spoke louder than words, and him sitting here with you, letting you cry and stain his handkerchief with your eyeliner and mascara was enough to pull you out of your downward spiral. 

“That may be true,” Jake hummed from beside you, “but it’s okay to be sensitive. It means that you care and feel things deeply.”

Perhaps a little too deeply, you mused as you folded his handkerchief. It was your parents’ idea for you to live in the Lion City for two years as a way for you to not only apply what you learned in college to the real world, but to keep you away from Marc. 

“You need to forget about him. Pining after him will do you no good,” your father lectured one evening after Marc dropped you off at home. “He does nothing but bring you heartache.”

“He is a good man, Papa,” you reasoned. 

Your mother sighed as she pulled you onto the couch to sit between her and your father. “We never said he was a bad person, my child. But we don’t want to see you heartbroken over him. You are young and have your whole life ahead of you to fall in love with someone else.”

Suppose they have a point, you reckoned. All your life, you fantasized about falling hopelessly in love with someone and that they would reciprocate your feelings in return, but life is not as colorful and sweet as the romantic novels you read. 

“Have you ever fallen in love with someone you weren’t supposed to have feelings for?” You asked quietly. 

Jake smiled softly, but you caught the pain in his voice as he spoke. “A long time ago, yes.”

You were not close friends with Jake, not to the same level as you were with Marc and Steven. With Jake, he was more private. Much like the cabbie that he was, it often felt like there was a window between the two of you. He was in the front seat, but you were in the back seat, only seeing rare glimpses of him through the window in between.

His brown eyes fell on yours, and he raised a curious, but amused, eyebrow at you. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, your cheeks growing warm. “I don’t know you as well as I know Marc and Steven, so it’s a little strange for me to picture you as a man who was madly in love. You are always so quiet.”

To your surprise, Jake laughed, and you could not help but laugh along with him as you noticed how the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed. It was not often you heard him laugh, but it was a delightful sound that you wanted to hear again. 

“You’re a funny girl,” he chuckled, but you were not offended by his words. “But you do have a point. How about this? I’ll promise to show more of myself when you return from Singapore?”

You smiled at him as he extended his gloved hand to you. “I’d like that very much.” 

His smile was kind in return as he shook your hand. Then, he stood, gently helping you up from where you were seated on the dusty steps. 

“It’s getting late, conejita (little bunny), let me drive you home before your parents worry about you.”

You could not help but chuckle at the nickname he had given you as you followed him, barely catching the fond smile on his face as he helped you down the steps. Your tears had dried by then, your heart a little bit lighter while he guided you to his car. 

Like a true gentleman, he opened the door for you, making sure you had your seatbelt on before heading to the other side. Inside, everything was uniquely Jake with the smell of leather and his cologne, the seats spacious and free of clutter. As he turned on the engine, the comforting melody of a Spanish love ballad played from the speakers, and you slowly closed your eyes.

The first few nights in Singapore were rough. You were miserable and heartbroken as you absentmindedly helped your aunt, uncle, and cousin clean up the new shop. Concerned as they were, they insisted that you rest, convinced you were exhausted from the jet lag and adjustment to the new time change. Of course, you should have known better that they would contact your parents. Not wanting to keep secrets, they told them about your unrequited crush on “a handsome boy back home,” and that you were heartbroken that he could not tell you goodbye. 

The first few months, you wrote various letters to Steven. From tourist postcards to long handwritten letters, you poured your thoughts, feelings, and emotions into the letters, hoping that your best friend would offer you some solace and healing to your heartache. 

I have never fallen in love so deeply, not even when I was a teenager. Isn’t it childish? My parents were worried, and now my aunt, uncle, and cousin fear I may not be helpful in establishing their bakery because of my “broken heart.” Growing up, I wanted to fall in love like in the movies, but I never expected it to be this painful and tragic. You would think that a smart girl like me would have fallen in love with someone else. Instead, I fell for a man who is still in love with his first love. I might as well be reaching for the moon. 

It would take weeks, sometimes a couple months before your letter would reach him. You would anxiously check the mail each day, hoping for comfort from him. When you finally received his letter, you excused yourself to the kitchen where you sat with your face covered in flour, your apron already painted in various colors from testing different icings as you unfolded his letter. 

You are still young, and you will find love again. The first love is always so painful, but do not fret, love. Have you forgotten? We already built rockets to reach the moon. It is a matter of finding the one that gravity pulls you to. 

You cherished each letter you wrote him. Even in today’s digital age, you and Steven preferred pen, wrinkled papers, and postage stamps. You would collect the most colorful and vibrant postcards to send to Steven so he could add it to his collection, and you could not help but smile when he sent a picture of all your postcards taped to Gus’ fish tank.  It felt a bit old-fashioned to wait months for a letter overseas, but more intimate as you shared stories and memories with each other.

The first few months were a bit painful, but as it turned into a year, your heart did not ache as much as when you left New York. Your cousin’s bakery took off during the first year, and soared to higher heights in the second with lines trailing out the door, but you were quick on your feet to bring out all the delectable treats and desserts that the city loved. One eventful night, your cousin brought you with her college friends to the local bar to celebrate, and you forgot that Marc broke your heart as you both sang to your favorite songs until your lungs ached and your throat ran dry. 

You stumbled into the kitchen that night with your cousin, the two of you giggling as your aunt and uncle merely laughed at how affectionate the two of you were with each other. You quickly ran to your room to pull out a pen, your body filled with warmth as you sat at your bedroom window with your cousin’s cat curled at your feet. 

Oh Steven, I haven’t felt this happy since leaving New York. I just got back from the karaoke bar with my cousin, and although I might be a little tipsy, I’ve learnt so many things here in Singapore. The night is young, but rich with dreams, wishes, and hope as I write underneath a full moon. Come what may, my heart will be open to new possibilities and adventures, for I am not the same person as I was yesterday. And before I forget, don’t tell my parents that I will be coming home a few weeks early; I want to surprise them, and I want to surprise you with how much I have grown. I would like to think I am not the same college girl who left with a broken heart, because I will return as a hopeful young woman who still dares to dream.

Before you knew it, you were packing your things and ready to return home. Your aunt, uncle, and cousin embraced you tightly with tearful smiles as they dropped you off at the airport, and soon, you were flying through the clouds. Your heart fluttered in excitement at seeing your family and friends again, and for once, you were not too worried about facing him again. You remained hopeful as you reminded yourself of how far you’ve come as you carried your dreams with you. 

But perhaps you spoke too soon. 

You called Steven a few nights before to plan for your arrival. Steven promised that he would pick you up at the JFK airport, but as you made it down the escalator, your heart nearly stopped. Waiting at the bottom was Marc Spector, holding up a sign with your name and a bouquet of flowers. His face is partially hidden by the shadow of his cap, but you could see the growing smile on his face as you approached. 

“I know you were expecting Steven,” he explains as you stop in front of him, “but he remembered he can’t drive, so I offered to step in-”

Your heart swells as you take him in. It has been two years since you saw him last. You did not keep in touch with Marc as closely as you did with Steven, but seeing him hold a sign with flowers for you, you suddenly feel like that college girl again. 

Before he could finish his sentence, you wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly.

“Thank you for coming for me,” you whisper. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Your heart skips a beat as he returns your embrace. With your head on his shoulder, you close your eyes. His arms are as strong as you remembered him, and the scent of his cologne brings you back to those nights he would pick you up after class to walk you home. 

“It’s good to see you. We missed you.”

You ignore the sinking feeling in your chest as he pulls away. He looks down at you, and you could not help but smile at the warmth and softness in his brown eyes.

“I almost didn’t recognize you. You look different.” 

“Different?”

Marc smiles softly. He smoothes a loose strand of your hair, and you pray in that moment that he did not feel the sudden heat rising to your cheeks from the contact.

“A good kind of different,” he answers, “you’re glowing.”

Butterflies flutter in your tummy at his words. It was true- you were a different woman now, and you were not the same college girl with an unrequited crush on her friend. 

But in that moment, it seems all you could think about is his gentle smile. If you weren’t careful enough, you would slowly turn back into that lovesick girl. 

Before you delve too deep into your thoughts, Marc smiles fondly at you again as he hands you the bouquet.

“Let me get your things, and then I can take you home.”

You smile at him as he gathers your belongings. As you follow him out of the terminal, your fingers absentmindedly trace the soft petals of the daffodils. They are a soft white and delicate between your fingertips, and you are already thinking about what vase to use and where to put it in your bedroom once you get home. 

The ride home was quiet, and as much as you wanted to ask him about everything that you missed in the past two years, you were exhausted from your trip. It took some time, but Marc was able to persuade you to sleep, only lightly tapping your shoulder to wake you when he pulled up to your parents’ driveway. It was after dinner when you saw their silhouettes moving across the kitchen, and you could not wait to surprise them with your early arrival. 

And surprised they were. Screams of joy and laughter echoed throughout the neighborhood as your family embraced you with overjoyed tears streaming down their cheeks. Much to your surprise, they were civil with Marc as he and your father helped bring your suitcases in, even offering that he could stay for some coffee before he politely declined. Whether he knew that your parents did not favor him as much compared to Steven, you didn’t know, but you were happy that he brought you home. 

As he walks out the front door, you excuse yourself and call his name as you quickly follow after him. 

“Thank you again for picking me up and taking me home,” you tell him as he turns around. “I wouldn’t have gotten here without you.”

He smiles softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so. “Anytime, I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

You smile shyly. This wasn’t the first time he brought you home, and it reminded you of the nights he would pick you up or walk you home after class. Just like old times.

Your mind was reeling, your heart soaring as you placed the bouquet of daffodils on your desk. Despite your parent’s disapproval (and much to your dismay, too), all the feelings you thought you moved on from Marc quickly resurfaced after seeing him again. You did your best to not think about him too much while you were in Singapore, but seeing him smile at you and having him take you home, you could feel yourself falling for him all over again. 

It took a couple weeks to adjust to being back in New York, but it was wonderful to be home. You told your parents everything about your time in Singapore and the success of your cousin’s business. Every now and then, you would call her, your aunt, and uncle to see how popular their bakery became since you left. In the background of your video calls, you would see your uncle tending to a customer in the front, or your aunt reloading a tray of green tea mochi in their display case. You missed the hustle and bustle of Singapore, but you were glad to be in the familiarity of the Big Apple with your friends and family again. 

Steven met with you first after you settled back into your routine. It was a Thursday afternoon as the two of you sat in your living room and exchanged gifts. You beamed at all the stories and anecdotes he shared with you. 

“That’s amazing!” You told him. The two of you were cross-legged on the floor as you poured him another cup of tea. “I just know the kids are going to love having you as a tour guide in the King Tut exhibit at the Smithsonian.”

Your best friend grinned, a soft red dusting his smiling cheeks. “You think so? I start on Monday. I’m so nervous! I don’t want to mess it up or bore them with all the details, but you know how much I love Ancient Egypt.”

“You’re going to do great. You make history sound so fascinating and entertaining.” You smiled reassuringly at him. “I missed hearing all your stories while I was in Singapore.”

“Well, that just means I have to do some more research for you to get you up to speed,” Steven countered, and the two of you laughed. “I’m so happy that you’re back and that I get to meet with you again. We missed you so much.”

Once again, your heart skipped a beat at the thought of Marc missing you. But you quickly dismissed the thought as soon as it came— you and Marc were friends beforehand, after all. You already spent two years away from him, surely you should have gotten a grip over your unrequited crush on a man who had no romantic feelings for you whatsoever. 

Your face must have fallen. Before you caught yourself, you found Steven’s brown eyes washing over you with concern. “You know, love, Marc told me he missed you too. I know you didn’t keep in touch with him frequently like you did with me. Are you doing okay?”

You swallowed hard as the other shoe dropped. As much as you hated to admit, it was true. Compared to the handwritten letters and postcards you sent Steven, your communication with Marc paled in comparison. You reasoned with yourself that the distance would do you good, and the only times you shared any correspondence with him were through some texts and pictures you sent via email. Like Marc, you did not have much social media, and you preferred to keep your private life private. But in the texts you both shared, they were straight-forward. You knew Marc was not fond of communicating through texts, and it was difficult to keep track of when he fronted with the time differences between New York and Singapore. Naturally, he fell through the cracks. 

It’s been a few weeks since you saw Marc, and the last time you spoke with him was when he took you home after picking you up at the airport. You weren’t avoiding him, but you also did not trust yourself around him. One look at him, and all the feelings you tried to repress would suddenly rush to the surface. 

“Does he know?” You asked, your voice quiet and hesitant. “About my feelings for him?”

You watched as Steven’s eyes softened. Whether your best friend was telling the truth, or telling you what you needed to hear to avoid hurting you, you did not know.  

“No, he doesn’t.”

You nodded, but kept your gaze on your mournful expression looking up at you through your reflection on the glossy surface. The mug grew cold in your hands, and you no longer felt the warmth and comfort of your favorite tea. 

Sensing the change in demeanor, you heard Steven clear his throat and set his mug on the table. Pulling you out of your thoughts, you glanced over at him to see a sheepish smile on his lips, his curls slightly askew. 

“If you don’t mind, can I practice my first tour with you? I have my speeches ready, and I think I need to get you caught up on what you missed.”

You vaguely felt the sting in your cheeks as you smiled at him and nodded. “I would love to hear it. Tell me everything.”

As Steven practiced his first speech and tour with you, thoughts of Marc began to fade away. All you could do was smile as you listened to your friend recite the great history of ancient civilizations over your favorite cup of tea. Your heart ached as the afternoon bled into the evening, but it was not as painful as it was before. Things were different now— you were different— as you looked at your reflection in the mirror, reminding yourself that you had to move on, for your sake.

The days went by slowly, and soon it was summer. You smiled as the sun shined longer and the nights grew shorter, painting the sky vibrant hues of golds, oranges, and reds like a sparkling fire. You did not see Steven as often once he started his museum tours, but you always smiled at his texts. 

It was a Thursday morning when you were at home when you heard your phone chime from across the room. Expecting it to be Steven gushing about his latest tour to elementary school children, you picked up your phone without a second thought, only for your heart to stop. Marc.

You did not mean to ignore him, but your communication with him was limited in the months you returned. It was for the best, you reasoned with yourself. The distance would do you good, and for a while, you truly believed that you moved on from your unrequited crush on your friend. But just a simple text and call of his name brought you back to the sleepless nights of staining your pillow with tears. 

The rushing sound of your beating heart echoed in your ears as your fingers over the text. You couldn’t ignore him forever. He was your friend first, your heartbreak second. 

Which led you to wearing your favorite dress with your arm linked through his as the two of you walked through the busy town square of a night market. Much to your parents (and Steven’s) concern, you agreed to meet with him. 

“I haven’t talked to him since I left for Singapore,” you argued with your parents over dinner. “He was my friend first. I can’t ignore him forever.”

And honestly, you couldn’t, even if you tried. Marc was too observant, and the last thing you wanted was for him to think he hurt you. Even if your heart was breaking.

“I’m sure the food was better back in Singapore, but I thought that I could bring a part of it to you.”

You laugh softly as Marc turns to you. Seeing there was an Asian street food market in town that weekend, Marc invited you to come along. It was a way for you two to catch up since you had yet to have a full and proper conversation with him since you returned home. It was casual enough, and surely, no harm could be done. 

“It’s still home,” you assure him, and your heart swells as he smiles at you. 

How could you hate him when he still brought you joy?

“I researched what I could, but I’ll need your opinion since you’re the expert,” he teases, and you laugh again. “There’s so many choices, it’s almost overwhelming. Where do I start?”

You look around at the different vendors, booths, and trucks around the square. Even at this hour, there are so many people trying new things and enjoying the night. There really is no place like home. 

“I’ll show you one of my favorites,” you tell him. “Have you had mochi donuts before?”

“It will be my first time,” Marc smiles at you, and you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as he extends his arm to you. “Show me.”

With a pounding heart, you link your arm through his as you guide him to the booth. Thankfully the line was not long, and you had food to temporarily distract you from the emotions rising to the surface. 

The conversation began to flow into a steady rhythm as the night continued on. Two years have passed since you last stood by his side, but tonight, the memories gathered in your mind as if it were only yesterday. You found yourself laughing over the shenanigans that Marc and Steven found themselves in while you were gone, and in return, you shared stories of creating recipes and painting the town red with your cousin and her friends on sleepless nights. 

For a little while, you fooled yourself into thinking it was the two of you, just like old times. 

You sit on a bench as the night draws to a close. With his jacket around your shoulders, it takes everything in you to not pull it closer towards yourself. It may not mean nothing to him, but it means everything to you.

Across the promenade, a local college band begins to play as the strings of their guitar tunes out the noise of your beating heart. If you listen long enough, you would not have to hear your heart ache. 

After a moment, Marc takes a shaky breath beside you, his dark brows furrowed. “Can I ask you something?”

You turn to face him. “Anything.”

You watch as a soft smile spreads across his lips, but you know him long enough to know that it did not reach his eyes. 

“You’ve been different since Singapore,” he begins, and you swallow hard, fearing his next words. “You’ve been distant. Things just aren’t the same or what it used to be. I need to know—”

Your breath catches in your throat as he turns to look at you. His brown eyes were dark, filled with emotion that he seldom showed. 

“Was it something I did?” He asks, his voice shaking. “Have I hurt you?”

Marc Spector was many things— observant, perceptive— but a heartbreaker? A heartbreaker was not one of them, even if he held your broken one in the palm of his hands.

“No, Marc—” you swallow the growing ache in your chest as you reach for him. “Please don’t ever think that. You did nothing wrong.” Gently, you squeeze his hands to comfort him. 

You could not lie to him. You could not hurt him, not when he was like this. 

“Things may be different, but I haven’t changed. Not really.”

But you have, in your own way. You would like to believe you have changed and grown into a young woman, but as you smiled at him, you wondered how much you really changed when your heart fluttered at his smile. 

“You seem more grown up,” he whispers softly as he smoothes a strand of your hair. “Don’t grow up so fast that you don’t need me, kid.”

You blink, ignoring the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes at his words. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With a comforting smile, he stretches his arm and places it around your shoulders to pull you close as his lips gently place a soft kiss on your forehead. Your heart skips a beat from his touch as the scent of his cologne envelopes you. It is so tempting to close your eyes and fall deeper into his embrace, but you fight against the heartstrings being tugged at your heart. 

In the promenade, the band transitions to a softer, romantic song with a few slow strokes of an acoustic guitar. One by one, couples gather with their partners to sway and dance along. A soft smile graces your lips as you recognize the tune. 

“This is one of my favorite Hozier songs,” you remark fondly as you remembered discovering his music for the first time. “Do you like his music—”

You look over at your friend, but stop. It was as if he was frozen in time, eyes wide as if he had seen a ghost. 

“Marc?”

He did not answer. He remains frozen, paralyzed and rooted to the spot as if he was ensnared by invisible hands. You call out to him again as you grasp his hands in yours, trying to bring him back to reality. 

Finally, his eyes meet yours, filled with nothing but pain and sorrow. 

“This song—” he stammers, his voice hoarse. His gaze flickers between you and the band as the couples in the courtyard embrace one another to the lyrics. “This song was played at my wedding.” 

Your heart sinks as you realize the significance. Layla. 

“It was your song,” you breathe as the pain in your heart begins to splinter deep inside, tearing it in two. How insensitive of you to think that he was over his first love. 

As if he was burned, Marc pulls away from you. He turns his head away, his voice low and trembling as he speaks. 

“I’m sorry, kid, but please excuse me—”

Before you could say a word, he was already walking away, leaving you alone at the bench with his jacket around your shoulders. 

Slowly, you pull your hands toward yourself. The tears that threatened you from before finally had the chance to fall, staining your cheeks with heartbreak and woe. Your heart twists as you watch the couples cradle each other as if they would fall apart without their touch. You were foolish to think that could be you and Marc one day. How could you fault him for still being in love with his first love when you still had feelings for him?

You should have said no, you scold yourself as you pull his jacket tighter around you, trying to comfort yourself with the lingering scent of his cologne and imagining that he was holding you in his arms. Tonight was a mistake, and you should have kept your distance from him. You should have listened to your parents and Steven’s words of caution, but here you were, crying alone on a bench. 

Marc saw you as nothing more than a younger sister. He was never yours. 

As you wipe the stray tears on your cheeks, you are pulled from your thoughts by a familiar handkerchief crossing your line of vision. 

Stunned, you look up and find a pair of deep brown eyes washing over you in concern. He shares the same face, but you know the difference. 

“A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t spend her evening shedding tears, conejita.”

A dry laugh escapes your lips as you accept the handkerchief. As you brush away your tears, he takes a seat beside you and whistles a low tune. 

“Marc,” you clear your throat, trying to control the wave of tears that threatened to spill over. “Is he alright?”

“He’ll be fine, he just needs some time,” Jake answers. He looks over at you with a sympathetic gaze. “I’m sorry he walked away.”

You shrug as you look down, your fingers twisting the ends of his handkerchief to numb the heartache. Even when it hurt, you could not find it in yourself to be upset with him. 

You echo his words. “I’ll be fine.”

He clicks his tongue with a shake of his head. 

“We can’t have that,” he reasons as he stands and offers his hand to you with a gentle smile. “Let’s end the night on a good note.”

You ponder his words as you look up at him. Jake shares the same face as your best friends, but is different in his own way. Steven’s eyes were bright and doe-eyed while Marc’s were darker with a storm of emotion, but Jake was different.

Looking at him now, they are deeper, but filled with a sense of warmth and familiarity that you could not explain. It bewilders you, but at the same time, it was as if you were greeting an old friend. 

Yet, there is so much about Jake that you did not know. You try not to let your worries get the best of you, but you remain hesitant and guarded at his intentions. You prefer not to know, and you would rather delude yourself into hoping he was not aware of your unrequited feelings for Marc, too. It seems everyone knows how you feel about him except the man himself. 

As if he read your mind, he reaches forward to caress your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that falls from your eyes. 

“I promise I have no ill intentions, conejita,” he comforts you with a gentle smile. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Your cheeks grow warm. “I don’t know you very well.”

He chuckles softly at you. “I promised I would show more of myself to you when you returned. Let me fulfill that promise.”

You remembered that night when he found you crying on the steps outside of his apartment before you left for Singapore. It felt so long ago, but it also felt as if it were yesterday. 

With a sheepish smile, you accept his hand. “Lead the way.”

You allow him to guide you to the promenade with your hand in his. After a moment, he pulls you close with one of his hands settling on your back, the other holding yours as he begins to sway to the music. You follow his movements with one hand on his shoulder as the other was laced with his, keeping you connected to him. 

You were not much of a dancer. For most of high school, you opted out of homecoming and only attended prom during your senior year, but even then, you were with friends. You never slow danced with anyone except your father whenever he played the old romantic love songs from his homeland in the kitchen on Saturday mornings.

An apology immediately falls from your lips as you accidentally step on his feet. “I’m so sorry—”

He tucks a finger under your chin, guiding you to look at him. 

“Eyes on me,” he whispers. “Follow my movements. Pretend it’s just the two of us.”

Slowly, you nod, keeping your eyes on him as you follow his steps. Your cheeks feel warm from the contact, but you elect to ignore it. You could only imagine how you looked. 

“When did you learn how to dance?” You ask him curiously. You did not want to say it, but you were surprised to see that he was a natural dancer. 

“I’m a man of many hidden talents, and I am not one to reveal my secrets.”

You could not help but laugh at his answer as he grins playfully at you. He was always an enigma. 

“Well, whoever taught you must have been a wonderful teacher,” you compliment him with a small and shy smile. “And whoever you danced with had a lucky partner.” 

Jake laughs softly as he twirled you. Once you face him again, he smiles. 

For the first time, you feel something foreign tug at your heartstrings. In the glimpses you have seen of Jake Lockley, you knew very little about him, but you knew enough to know he only revealed his true self to a select few.

Perhaps this time, you would finally meet the man in the front seat through the window in-between.

The ride home was quiet, but the silence was not suffocating. The city lights blurred past you as Jake hummed and whistled along to the Spanish melodies that played on the radio. Some songs you were familiar with from the playlists that Steven and Marc would often share with you. There were times when you asked them to teach you the language so you could better understand the songs they would sing, and in return, you shared the music from your family’s homeland. You did not recognize the songs that Jake played on the radio, but even in your limited understanding of the language, you found comfort in the harmonies. 

Like a true gentleman, Jake walked you to your front door once he dropped you off at home. The lights were still on in the kitchen when you arrived, and you knew your parents were still awake and waiting for your return. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you turn to him as you stop at your front door. “I had a good time with you and Marc.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Marc. There was so little he shared about his divorce with Layla, and from the little you knew about it, you knew he loved her deeply. The wound in his heart had yet to close and heal, much similar to yours. 

Sensing your worry, Jake offers a reassuring smile. 

“He’ll be alright,” he reassures you. “He just needs some time to himself, but I promise you he’ll be okay. Steven and I will look after him.”

You nod. You’ve seen Marc withdraw at times, but not like this. You could still see the fear on his face— he looked as if he had seen a ghost, and you wonder if he will be able to come back.

“Did you want to come inside? I made some mochi earlier that you could take home.”

He shakes his head, but still offers that comforting smile at you. “I’ll be alright, but thank you. Can you tell your parents I said hello?”

You smile weakly at him, feeling a bit comforted by his reassurance. “I will.”

As you watch him walk back to his car, your heart begins to ache, a dagger digging into your chest and you could barely breathe. 

For a moment, he looked just like Marc. Slicked back dark hair, olive green jacket over his shoulders, and that soft, gentle smile. 

There was a time when Marc would bring you home like this, right after your night classes. He would walk you to the front door, his jacket over your shoulders, a protective arm around you as it was already dark once the sun had set. 

“Whenever you need me, you can call me,” he comforted you the first night you completed your night class. It was already fall with the days growing shorter and the nights growing darker, and you often called him to take you home since you felt unsafe walking across campus and waiting at the bus stop by yourself. 

“You don’t need to take me home every Thursday because I’m scared of walking alone to the bus stop at night. I can call campus police for an escort,” you told him as he opened the car door for you.

Marc shook his head and took your bag from your shoulders as you stepped in. “The buses aren’t always reliable, and I need to make sure you’re home safe.”

You began to protest, but he smiled at you as he leaned down and kissed your forehead. 

“No one can hurt you when I’m around,” he whispered. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easy, kid.”

But you did not have to do anything for Marc to leave you. How could you lose someone you loved if they were never yours?

You ignore the ache in your heart as Jake drives away, disappearing into the darkness like a dying star in the night sky. With a deep breath, you force a smile and step inside to find your parents waiting for you in the living room, eager to hear everything about your date. 

It went well, you lie. We are just friends, and my feelings for him have faded. I am no longer in love with him. 

I am no longer in love with Marc Spector, you repeat to yourself as you sit in your room, your fingers tracing the daffodil petals that you saved from the bouquet he had given you. You cherished the flowers he gifted you, but they have withered and died, their petals pressed into thin pieces you would have saved and kept near to your heart. 

You remembered sitting in the field as a schoolgirl with flowers in your hand and giggling with your friends as you sang, he loves me, he loves me not. 

You loved him, but he loves you not.

I am no longer in love with Marc Spector, you whisper, dropping the petals into the wastebasket. 

I am no longer in love with Marc Spector. 

Another petal falls, followed by the other. 

I am no longer in love with Marc Spector. 

A tear falls from your eyes as you drop the last petal, your hand empty without any trace of him. 

It was time to let him go. 

PART 2: THE FALLING

[many-gay-magpies]

WIP Word Game

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of that word.

Thank you so much for tagging me @babyseraphim!! These are always so much fun <33 The word I have is ANGIE

A - from my still-unnamed post-canon casefic, where the agency goes to inspect the house of a small-town witch who’s seemingly been magically luring and then destroying all the ghosts in town.

As Eloise told it, she’d gone to visit her mum up in Ireland for a few weeks and returned to find the ghostly population of her town severely depleted, with more disappearing every day.

N - from a very soft and domestic little oneshot, set in @/dontoffendthebees’s “something i can turn to” universe! I’m currently playing around with titles, but it’s for sure going to be a lyric from Amber Run’s song “The Weight” (which also inspired the oneshot)

Normally, it’s the sort of chill Charles doesn’t like—the sort that puts him in the mind of lakes, and bullies, and a couple hours spent freezing near to death in a dingy old attic—but Edwin is delightfully warm beneath their thick comforter (another blessing, scrounged up cheap from the bins at a thrift store a couple months back), and all Charles feels is content.

G - also from the post-canon casefic. I could not find anything starting with G, so here’s the closest I could get

“[Well,] good that you left us behind, then,” Charles said, mirroring Edwin’s internal monologue. “I would not be chuffed to get stuck in that thing, that’s for sure.”

I - from You’ve got Me in Your Pull (Please Don’t Release), a most likely shorter sequel to The Curious Tongue

It’s a chaste kiss, at least compared to most of the kisses they share in moments like these, but Charles is still dizzy with it; the firm press of the leather into his nape, the smooth slide of Edwin’s fingers back into his hair.

E - from Reach Out and Touch, my artist!Crystal/Crystal-Niko friendship oneshot

Earlier, they painted each other’s nails—Niko’s a bubblegum pink and Crystal’s a deep, metallic purple—and put on the anime to watch while waiting for the polish to dry. It’s been a couple hours now, though, and Crystal doesn’t think her nails are in any danger of smearing anymore.

The word I choose is GRACE, and I’ll tag @williamvapespeare, @blusandbirds, and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it! As usual, no pressure if I DID tag you; just consider it a notification that I’m thinking about you <3

[litnerdwrites]

Headcanons- Euphemia

A/N: I'm working on the next chapter of Clandestine affairs, but I also have other stuff going on, like exams coming up, so it's slow going. Until then, have some Demon family headcannons, mostly centred around Euphemia, and her relationship with her uncles. If any of you have any prompts you want me to write some short headcannons for, send them in, and I'll answer them as between fic updates. They could be about either Euphemia, the demon princes, Emilia, etc.

TW: None. Just fluff.

🎀 Sloth pretends he doesn't like looking after Euphemia, but secretly adores curling up in a cozy arm chair and reading her fairy tales.

🎀 Euphemia, as we find out in 'Want it' is like a magpie. As a child, she got easily distracted by anything that glittered, and tried stealing her father and uncles' house daggers, and succeeded, on more than one occasion.

🎀 Euphemia doesn't like the crescent Shallows. At all. Emilia tried taking her there to teach her to swim, since it felt like the safest place to do so, only for her begin wailing. It took hours to console her, and she wouldn't sleep in her own room for weeks. She also clung closer to Wrath during this time, scared Emilia would take her back to the shallows. This still hurts Emilia a lot.

🎀 She painted Camilla a picture of her and Envy as a present, and while it was about what you'd expect from a children's drawing, Camillia got teary at the sight of it. She hung it in their chambers and refused to let anyone touch it, even insisting on cleaning the frame herself.

🎀 Adriana is secretly very sweet to Euphemia, when nobody else is around. She even sneaks her a treat or two from the desert table before dinner, when nobody else is looking. It makes Gluttony feel betrayed.

🎀 Euphemia wasn't allowed to visit House Lust, Gluttony, or Greed for a long time, for obvious reasons. As she grew, and as his brothers pestered him, Wrath relented and allowed Eupheima to visit House Gluttony, and Greed, on the condition that anything inappropriate for her age was to be out of sight during her visit. Lust complains about being the odd one out.

🎀 Eupheima's a daddy's girl. Through and through.

🎀 People say that The Devil, and seven demon princes rule the underworld from their houses of debauchery and sin, but those who reside in the Seven Circles know better. The young Princess of House Wrath is the one who has the real power.

🎀 Euphie was first given her nickname by Sloth when she first called him by name. Her first word was 'Mama' but her second was 'Lo'. Wrath wasn't pleased by this.

🎀 She calls Anir her Uncle, and he secretly takes her into town sometimes. He gets her anything her little heart desires, even if it drives Emilia up a wall to see her drowning in sweets before dinner.

🎀 The quality Euphemia loves most about herself is her hair. She loves having it styled in all different ways, with ornaments, tiaras, cuffs, and clips.

🎀 Euphemia read one of her mother's romance novels once, and the character in it had a braided coronet. It's since become her own favourite hairstyle.

🎀 Euphemia came across a Church Grim by the gates of Hell while visiting The Sin Corridor with her Celestia, and decided to keep it. She named her Frost.

🎀 Speaking of Frost, there are three thrones in House Wrath's Throne room, and one large, lush pillow from House Lust, beside the smallest throne. The perfect size for a wolf to lay on no matter how much she grows.

🎀 Frost also has her own box of ribbons and collars, which she loves. Frost is as much of a girly girl as Euphiemia is, only she turn up her nose at the thought of getting dirty, while Euphie, despite loving frills, ribbons and dressing up, has an adventurer's heart, and often comes back from playing outside scraped and covered in dirt.

🎀 Sometimes Euphemia worries that Vittoria doesn't like her, since she doesn't allow her to visit House Vengeance, even if Emilia comes with her.

🎀 Euphie believes that even though the don't always say it, each of her Uncles loves her in different ways. They each give her something irreplaceable. 🎀 Lust is that one Uncle who was so excited to finally have a nibling, even though he had no clue how to even hold her. Had Euphemia not been in his arms at the time, Wrath would've tackled him for how he held his newborn daughter.

🎀 Once, Euphemia tried to use her mother's make up, only to end up scaring the life out of Anir, who even unsheathed his knife before realising it was the princess. Emilia was more shocked to see that the state of her vanity.

🎀 She was even more shocked to see the things Euphemia had written on the mirror with make up. She used rouge to write out 'I am beautiful' and some kohl to add 'I am powerful'. Apparently Pride taught her to do this, to help with self confidence. Emilia had Wrath deliver Pride some Cannolis immediately.

🎀 Gluttony happily spent ages just pinching her cheeks and cooing over her when Wrath brought her to visit. His excuse was that it was his sin, and that he couldn't help but want to indulge more in her cuteness.

I'll leave it at this for now, but if you want any more, let me know. These are fun to come up with. Also, feel free to let me know if you have any headcannons for Euphie, or even the princes as uncles.

[mikodrawnnarratives]

The artino sisters! Marissa better get their asses into family therapy asap

more talking beloww

i draw maggie a lot more than I do nova, and how I've drawn the former has gotten more stylized over time, sooo i decided to try and give that treatment to nova. Mainly with the hair, i didn't wanna try altering how i normally draw their noses to match each other. Lets just say their parents have different noses and each got a different set cool? cool

I tried to draw them looking roughly the same age, bc im so confident that if we get an mc Maggie she's gonna be in the 15-16 yr spot that Marissa meyer writes a lot of her leads in.

Tho obviously i kept in a lot of differences. Magpie is meant to look a little more immature, a choppy haircut for her sharp and unfriendly attitude, and i kept the bangs bc I've always envisioned her with bangs and I can't not include them at this point.

Nova ofc looks older since well.. she had to grow up pretty quickly, tho she still got a soft side (curlly soft hair), I mainly stylized the last time i drew her which was based off of one of the posters she appeared in. i'll put some links here ltr for reference

but they still got the same hair color n eyes <3

btw something i DESPERATELY NEED marissa meyer to clear up in the next book(s) is what exactly Maggie and Nova's skin tones are. Like, Maggie is described as pale and Nova gets confirmed to be more tan in at least the Cinder's Adventure book's descriptions. I've TRIED to theorize on explanations but it would be so nice to get a reason for differences

[brb-on-a-quest]

Tumblr should really let you pin multiple things as a blog introduction. (I wish).

Anyway, hi, hello, (new friend?), I'm Brb/Birb/(real name redacted). I'm an almost graduated student from the general land of cornfields and more cornfields. There's not much around, that's why I'm here, lol. (Also I've met a bunch of cool people, so now I think I'm kind of stuck here - come join us!).

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If you happen to be a New Person Who Has Found Me (Hello!) and You Want To Talk to Me, I don't bite, I swear. I am a Birb with the heart of a Golden Labrador Retriever. Feel free to Tag Me in any tag games or haunt my inbox. <3 Come say hi! i love friends.

((Art by the amazing @mayamohini jfkfjjfkjgjgjgjfj it’s gorgeous)

(my "character sheet" that is based on my real life attributes--yes, I did roll all of these numbers. I use canva a totally healthy amount sometimes)

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Anyway, more information y'all should know: This is the main account; I do have a sideblog. I reblog a lot of friend's nonsense, post a lot of my own even more nonsense, kind of have a whole "I want to be a hobbit living my best life somewhere not here vibe" I think. You will also see posts about things I think are wholesome/sweet, writing, psychology, fantasy, whatever fandom I'm in (or a friend's fandom),....just general nonsense I suppose. I do post some amount of life stuff when relevant or whenever I find things funny. Although the pic above is an owl, I am probably more akin to a magpie with much reblogging of things I find "shiny" to add to the chaotic mess that is my tumblr dashboard.

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@brb-on-a-side-blog is also me! This was created to hopefully separate original writing content from the rest of the reblogging I do so it doesn't get buried in theory. This may not work out in theory as well as in practice, but I promise to reblog the cool writing stuff to my main blog if you don't want to have it clogging up your dash :).

There are other ones but as I am currently not using them it seems futile to put in an intro post.

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Tags to help sift through to find me in the hoard of posts!

#brb-rambles: Original thoughts about something (or at least as original as I can be).

#brb-(insert part of moots name here): interactions between me and said moot! I'm actually really not great at this but will get better and I forsee mass post editor being a BFF if I do this.

#brb-life: original content relating to my life/thoughts.

#brb-writes: original writing content (this will be potentially moved to sideblog).

#brb-memes (i make memes sometimes).

#brb-library: posts that are either really funny/really struck me so I'm going to save them to print out

#brb-adventures: the hopeful travel tag for some upcoming trips (either the grocery store or New York who knows).

#brb-learning-things: Things I have learned (although it's from my school/classes so questionably but I reason sourced; if it's not, I'll include source link/some kind of citation).

#brb needs a laugh check: I am joking. Please do not take me seriously.

#brb vs the call of the academia: school posting?

#brb-asks/#brb-report:s hopefully new ask tag if I can remember to add them.

#dear north canada love south canada (and associated tags I will not be typing out here) is a fun series I have with @igotthisaccountunderduress (she's absolutely cool, check her out). Again, that won't cover all the posts but again, vibes).

[the-orion-scribe]

New AU fic: The Fez, the Llama and the Pine Tree

Hello everyone! Presenting to everyone a new AU, with two chapters already up!

Chapter 1: An unwelcomed VIP

Stan Pines finds himself cash-strapped and defaulting on the mortgage, and so Preston Northwest comes forward with an offer: For Stan to take care of Pacifica Northwest for two weeks. It was already tough trying to raise his grandnephew Dipper Pines, much less take in a snotty brat, but did Stan have a choice? Little does Stan know, this choice will set off another chain of dominoes from a timeline already quite different from what we know.

Chapter 2: To catch a thieving magpie

As they search for Pacifica’s missing earrings, the children come face to face with the town’s strange and uncanny secrets.

Taking a break from my next-gen continuity, I decided to try a hand at an AU, an idea originally pitched by @detectivejigsawpines: “Stan, needing a little extra cash for the portal, reluctantly agrees to spend a day babysitting little Pacifica.”

I decided to combine that idea with the Reunion Falls AU… and perhaps build a bond between young Dipper and Pacifica here. Will there be eventual dipcifica? Well, the kids are too young here (only seven), but it’s definitely possible in the long run.

This story is more of a divergence of an AU by a writing friend – @theoryofweirdness One Day Reunited, which is his take on the Reunion Falls AU. So I took some details from that AU with his permission and consultation, like Stan’s explanation of why Dipper was raised in Gravity Falls.

I’m not exactly sure how to go from here, but we’ll see how far this concept will go. Some other ideas include Stan bringing her out that’s technically delinquent behavior, but is also "fun". And maybe some fun childhood adventures, through which Pacifica becomes a better person overall. Also, maybe, just maybe, Mabel would eventually enter the picture as Dipper and Pacifica discover the truth about the Pines family.