#that the world is so beautiful actually.. it was autumn and sunny and the leaves were so brilliant!!!

[ihavealavalamp]

Never Quite Free, The Mountain Goats [x]

[strangegreen]

I almost fell over looking up take these photos but it was worth it. This tree always catches my eye when I get off the bus there, and this year i didn't miss the chance to take photos

[thoughts-on-music-tm]

Top 10 Songs of 2022!!!!

2022 is over, and that means it's time for year-end list!!! Without further ado, here are the 10 best songs of 2022!

You can find a spotify playlist with each song on it here.

Honorable Mentions: Prester John – Animal Collective Hypothermic – Goodnight, Texas God Is a Circle – Yves Tumor

10. That's Where I Am - Maggie Rogers Genre: Pop, with a hint of Indie rock Vibe: A bright and sunny morning                Maggie Rogers combines a beautiful yearning with an unending hope to make the romance she describes feel almost inevitable. Every time she sings, "It all works out in the end," it starts to sound less like a prediction and more like a manifestation.

9. Curse of the Blackened Eye - Orville Peck Genre: Cowboy Country Vibe: Heartbreak is a warm sensation                To me, a lot of Orville Peck's music has felt like it was more about the idea of a relationship rather than an actual experience. This song, through all his usual flamboyant cowboy aesthetic, feels incredibly personal. The deep melancholy in his voice during lines like, "It ain't the letting go, it's more about the things that you take with" create a poignant sense of self reflection. This makes it his most personal song and also his most universally relatable.

8. Go Slow – Jordana Genre: Bedroom Pop (Though any room with a nice couch will do) Vibe: Chill vibes all the way down 🐢                If self-care was a song. It's as much about avoiding responsibility as it is about realizing the stress-inducing things we're told are vital are so rarely as required as they seem. A deadline missed here or there and a day off now and then won't be the end of the world - but that break may mean the world to you.

7. That's Our Lamp – Mitski Genre: Ethereal Indie Pop Vibe: Happy memories for when it's over                When I first heard The Sound by The 1975, I misheard the following lyrics "I said that I love you / What does it matter if *[I like you too]?" (The actual line is "What does it matter if I lie to you"). I thought this was an interesting lyrical idea to explore: that loving someone and liking someone are different things, and one does not necessarily imply the other. To be honest, I was a little disappointed to learn I had misheard the lyric.                Then Mitski dropped That's Our Lamp, a fantastic, joyful closer to her album full of her usual brand of heartbreak, and in it is this line:

You say you love me, I believe you do But I walk down and up and down And up and down this street 'Cause you just don't like me, Not like you used to

And Mitski uses this idea to its full potential, as a beautiful way to explore an ending relationship.

6. Every Heart Is True - Little Mazarn Genre: Finely Aged Folk Vibe: A warm mug of tea on a cold day                I spent a lot of this year getting into folk music; this was the song convinced me I should stay. Finding this song felt more like uncovering something that had always been there, an ethereal bit of beauty and grace nestled in a patch of freshly fallen autumn leaves 🍃. Each plucked string of the banjo, ringing chime, and ethereal word sung serves to set right the world once more.

Also, if you've never seen live folk music like this, check out a video of their live performances. One of the members plays a hand saw - like, the woodcutting tool - with a violin bow and it sounds like an acoustic theremin. You can hear it clearly at the beginning of this song, and it sounds heavenly.

5. the angel of 8th ave. - Gang of Youths Genre: Dad Alt Rock Vibe: Laying on large rocks, being warmed by the sun                One musical niche I love is the recent works of older rock musicians - I’ve listened to a lot of the new Tears For Fears album and The War On Drug's album from last year recently. I find they bring a richness of wisdom that is often not present with younger musicians. Because of that, I was genuinely surprised to find out that this song was written by someone in their mid-twenties. It draws from a rich well of experience, and that brings it a depth that I rarely find in younger musicians. The song embraces the struggles of relationships between imperfect people in unfamiliar places, but it's thesis is that love is fundamentally stronger than any of that. And that's not an abstract idea - lines like "And when my old man was near to the end / You loved his broken body in the same way that I did" show the how personal and everyday acts of love are far more resilient in this song than the pain that love existed in response to.

4. Don't get the deal – beabadoobee Genre: Alt Rock Vibe: Brightly rekindled old flame                Beabadoobee's effortless meshing of quiet, bedroom pop ballads with all-out alt-rock bangers make this song feel both like a peek inside a personal conversation and a joyful, public celebration. Both the acoustic duet that begins this song and driving rock jam that ends it feel so wholesome that, when she sings "It feels like we'll stop eventually / For now I guess we were meant to be" over either, it's hard to imagine her romance as anything other than meant to be.

3. The Loneliest Time - Carly Rae Jepsen ft. Rufus Wainwright Genre: Pop For The Pop Connoisseur Vibe: Light rain romance                It's no secret I'm a big fan of Carly Rae Jepsen, but it took me a while to realize how much I loved this song (and I won't lie, a good part of that was the TikTok where she sings the "I'm coming back for you baby!" part to her cat over facetime). But this song is just infectious. The impeccable duet, The swooning string section, and groovy hooks at every turn!

               If you haven't listened to Carly Rae Jepsen since Call Me Maybe took over the world in 2011, this is an excellent showcase of why she's so beloved amongst pop connoisseurs. Like all her music, it has some of the best songwriting and production you can find in pop music. But what I love most about this song is how incredibly endearing it is. Her and Rufus Wainwright each reminisce about their half of a relationship, each incomplete without the other. Through her charming rose-colored perspective, all the loneliness of the past few years was like reaching the moon - just a bit too soon. But that loneliness ends with each other, and not even lunar distances could separate them. And as the song ends the dance beat fades, it leaves only their voices nestled together amongst the strings. It sounds like a Californian beach sunset, captured in a song.

2. Venomous Dogma - Fantastic Negrito Genre: Blues. Gospel. Rock. And all of them done better than most artists can do one. Vibe: Righteous anger, Righteous release                This song starts and album about the singer's seven-greats grandparents, a white indentured servant and an enslaved Black man during the 1750s in what would become the United States of America. He uses their story of love to discuss the history of racism in America and the various systems of racial and economic oppression that have plagued the country since. It is one of the most optimistic albums of the year. If his grandparents' love was stronger than racist laws and slavery itself, then there may be hope for us yet.               As the start of that journey, this song showcases America caught between racial crisis and reconciliation. What I really love about this song is how varied it is - it opens with an excellent Gospel section, then transitions seamlessly into a gruff blues section, yelling in anger. Each of these sections has a deep, tangible respect from the genres they draw from. The histories of these genres is intertwined with America's struggle with racism, and this song's traditional-but-forward-looking take on them sets a powerful musical precedent on how the country can start to reconcile - only with both a knowledge of history and a willingness to move past it. It's easily the most immaculately crafted song of the year.

1. When You Know You Know - The Beths Genre: Indie Rock Vibe: Pure joy distilled into a love song                At first look, this is the year's most effortless love song. A closer look reveals that this song focuses on the daily work required for a healthy relationship - apologies, comforting, and care - that only seem effortless in couples with both partners willing to commit themselves fully to each other. The "meant to be" this song describes isn't some destiny, it's what each person is going to repeatedly work for until it happens. It's a beautiful, mutual effort, and every bit of that - the toil and the joy - is so apparent in every part of this song.

Thanks for reading and here's to a great 2023!

[wickedfang-sso]

Maybe this is a hot take, maybe not, but one thing I dislike about games is when different areas of the map are always different seasons. Usually it's one area is always autumn and another is always winter, and the whole rest of the map is spring/summer all the time.

Or when you get autumn exclusively for halloween and then it's back to summer, and then it's winter exclusively for December and then it's back to summer again.

Just give us actual seasons.

I don't care if the seasons change throughout a real life year on their own or through an in-game year, or if it's an optional, client-sided thing you can/have to change on your own. I just want to physically see different times of the year outside of holidays. Something, anything but just sunny summer weather.

Give me fog, rain and gloom, blizzards, barren trees and frosted fields. I hate so much that games (and tv shows and other media, where it's only snowy for christmas and only autumn for halloween) often seem reluctant, if entirely unwilling, to acknowledge that weather and seasons do exist and happen when a holiday isn't going on.

It's understandable if it takes place in a location where the different seasons don't look all that different (or the occasional mountains where it's always cold and snowy, but that still feels like an excuse to have a 'winter area' instead of implementing actual winter that affects the rest of the world), but don't make one chunk of the map an entirely different season than the rest of the map, it makes no sense. And it makes me feel disappointed, because I can clearly see that the devs are capable of making a beautiful autumn/winter, but that I won't see it beyond this one designated area.

It's so frustrating how very few games ACTUALLY implement any proper weather and seasons, and it's just always lush and green and sunny.

The world feels so much more natural and alive when it changes throughout the year, and I think a lot of game devs don't realize the extent of this, and that makes me sad. It's SO much more engaging to log into a game and immediately see that something is different, even if it's just 'Oh, it's raining today' or 'Omg the leaves are turning :o'

Of course I'm thinking mostly of horse games here, because that's what I play, but I don't see much in way of seasons in other games either. 🤷‍♀️

[glassessence]

Modern Soulmate AU | Watanabe

M O D E R N   S O U L M A T E   A U   |   W A T A N A B E

-- You see in black and white until you meet your soulmate. --

There have been violent protests for days now and this morning graced us with a magnitude 5.9 earthquake. Suffice to say I’m feeling a little ~shooketh~ (pardon the pun; I’ll show myself out haha). 

Anyway, I’ve been writing a lot of angst lately and wanted a change of pace. I love the idea of soulmates, so here’s an AU featuring university professor Watanabe. I’m super tired at the time of this posting so grammatical tenses are all over the place. I’m sorry. I zoned out so hard during this that it’s half stream of consciousness lmao.  

Also, it’s in dot-point format because I have no time to write it into an actual oneshot *cry* Also, if anyone cares, here’s what I have planned for future instalments in this series: 

CEO Lee | Secretary Reader

Pop singer Kamui | Backup dancer Reader

W A T A N A B E   |   U N I V E R S I T Y   P R O F E S S O R

Watanabe has seen in faded colours since the start of the semester. He knows his soulmate is a student, but doesn’t know who.

It’s not until you stay behind to ask him a question that it happens. He turns to you and his world bursts into riotous technicolour. Your world explodes into colour, blues and greens and yellows beyond your wildest dreams.

For a moment, both of you just stare at each other. Watanabe is speechless, blown away by the colour in your cheeks and the light in your eyes. You’re backlit by the soft afternoon sun and all he can think of is how beautiful you are.

You’ve always considered Watanabe handsome but unattainable. You’d always figured someone like him would be taken. All the good ones were. 

But now, he was your soulmate. The knowledge feels impossible and knocks the very breath out of you. 

“It’s you,” Watanabe breathes, so quietly you barely hear him. His hand reaches out. Long fingers are inches from your face when he seems to remember himself. He drops his hand. Clearing his throat, he asks you how he can help.

You’re so shocked at the blazing colour of the world that you’ve forgotten your question. “N-Nevermind, professor. I’ve gotta go.” Heart hammering and face flaming, you rush from the room as fast as you can. 

The next few weeks are super awkward. You’re not sure how to talk to Watanabe and he seems to be avoiding you. He rushes out after every lecture and doesn’t meet your eye. Even though your world looks so beautiful now, it feels grayer than ever.

Watanabe feels miserable and impossibly conflicted. He wants to get to know you, to hold you and kiss you. Knowing you were out there alone was a pain he could hardly bear. 

“You’re kidding,” Bruce says over beer one day. He eyes his lonely friend. “Keep it secret, Watanabe, but you have to do something. This doesn’t just happen to anyone, you know.”

You stopped going to lectures, unable to stand the reality of Watanabe purposefully ignoring you. Was it because you were a student? Or… did he have someone else? The very possibility of another woman filled your heart with envy. 

Noticing your absence, Watanabe grew concerned. He was a university professor, after all. Regardless of whatever bond connected the both of you, you were still his student. 

He reached out to you via email. Y/N, I haven’t seen you in lectures lately. Is everything okay? 

Your response was curt. Thank you for checking in, professor. I’m fine, just been feeling a bit unwell lately. 

Guilt shot through Watanabe. It seemed it was your turn to avoid him. He knew he deserved it. His heart ached. Bruce was right. Something had to be done. I see. I don’t want you to fail the subject.  I think we should have a catch up over coffee to discuss your progress.

Your heart skipped a beat. Was Watanabe asking you out on a date? Or were you reading way too much into it? Regardless, you dressed well. The day was bright, warm and sunny. You’d grown used to the brilliant colours, but still took immense pleasure in seeing the autumn leaves fall. 

He was dressed in a casual button down and slacks, long hair knotted at the back of his head. Handsome without trying, as usual. You eyed him warily. He’d made his intentions clear so far. You didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot. Still, something in you ached for his touch. You tore your eyes from his lips. 

Watanabe admired you. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you, but seeing you again up close, he was taken aback by your eyes. “You came,” he says simply. “Of course,” you reply casually. “I don’t want to fail the subject, after all.”

Watanabe quirks a smile. “I’d certainly hope not.” The two of you sit down. The conversation is initially focused on your academics and all the content you’d have to catch up on. However, it soon spirals into something else. You make him laugh, a deep rumble that kindles something in your soul. He possesses a sharp intellect that you’re desperately attracted to. Time passes in the blink of an eye. 

“I should go,” you say, gathering up your things as the sun is setting. The sky is overcast, pregnant with heavy clouds threatening rain. “Yeah,” he agrees. “My bad.”

“No,” you counter boldly. “My pleasure.” His eyes widen, but he looks away. He says nothing, but the disapproving frown tells you enough. Your smile fades. “Watanabe...What is this?” His answer is bitter. “Wrong,” he says.

Hurt and anger burn in your chest. “Wrong?” you echo. You point to your eyes. “You think this is wrong?” You slap your palm to your chest. Your voice breaks. “You think this is wrong?”

“No,” he growls, frustrated. “Never. But I’m a professor and you’re a student. I can’t take advantage of you.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me! This is meant to be! I-Is there someone else?”

He stares at you in disbelief. “No, of course not. I just...can’t.” You bite your lip. “I can’t bear to be around you,” you say softly. Raindrops splatter onto the pavement. “I’m going now.”

You turn from him and walk into the pouring rain. Watanabe runs after you. “At least let me take you home. You walked here, right?” You keep walking, trying to ignore the magnetic pull of him. “I’m fine.”

“Dammit woman,” he says, voice low. He grabs you by the arm and forces you to face him. You have to look up to see his face. “Why are you being so difficult?”

Something in you cracks. “Because,” you say heatedly. “I can’t bear to be around you! To want you so much it hurts. To want to touch you and kiss you and be beside you. To know that you’d rather be alone than with me!”

“That’s not true!” he roars back at you. “I want you. So much. I want to leave my marks on you and make you my woman. But I can’t! People will judge you and I won’t allow that.”

“Fuck them,” you reply. “You’re just a coward, Watanabe.”

His hold on you loosens in shock. You take the opportunity to break away. The sky was black now and the rain showed no signs of relenting. You hated how brightly the moon shone and how beautiful the night was under her silver touch. 

Suddenly, a hand pulled you back. Lips touched yours, warm and velvet soft. Watanabe kissed you deeply. His tongue snuck into your mouth, twining with yours like long-lost lovers. His hand curled into your hair. The other encircled your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. His breathing was heavy. “I’m not a coward,” he whispered in your ear. “I just don’t want you to suffer because of me. Others might not understand. They might attack you. I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I could never,” you answer softly. “Never, Watanabe.”

The two of you made it back to his car. But it was a good deal later into the night that you returned home… 

[lonleywriters-blog]

Hello love! 🖤

I know we've talked about it, but if they're too many fandoms, maybe you could just choose the one where you think it fits the most (I would prefer depth more than quantity)? And if it's too much information, that's okay as well! Thank you so so much! 💕💕💕

Could I please ask for a Slasher, DC villians, Titans, Avengers, Stranger Things, iZombie, Gotham matchup?

I've got really pale skin (which I love), white blonde shoulder-length hair with the tips dyed dark purple on one side and dark green on the other, a few ear piercings, I'm somewhat curvy (which I'm not insecure about), around 5'5 high and I'm always wearing only black clothing with a gothic/punk/metal/alternative style.

My own love language is words of affirmation and acts of service and from others it's physical touch and quality time. I'm female, interested in men, but I'm also open for women, so it's kind of both.

Meeting new people, being in crowded places and in the center of attention makes me really anxious and uncomfortable. Although it's easier if I can rely and concentrate on someone really close to me.

I have deep emotions, but they tend to overwhelm me and I struggle with communicating and procressing them alone, which leads me to sometimes relying on others but also understanding others and the world around me on a deeper level. I believe that's also why I'm so accepting, supporting and open-minded.

I love to help others, I tend to always put their well-being before my own and try anything possible to make it easier for them and take some weight off their shoulders, to lighten up someone's mind and make their worries less overwhelming. To put it simply, I hate to see others suffering and will do anything to help them.

I'm the happiest when the people I love are happy, when someone truly listens to me, my thoughts and feelings.

I'm a very loving, warm and passionate person. I care about the people who're close to me and I will go to great length to help them. Furthermore, I'm ultimately loyal and would never betray or let people I love down!

I don't like leaving the house more than necessary, especially during sunny or hot days. My favourite season is autumn, closely followed by winter.

I hate when people believe they can define or generalize what's normal or beautiful, boring or annoying, typical or effective. All these are personal views and usually I find beauty where others don't, enjoy unusualness and uniqueness and despise mainstream and stereotypical things. Being like everyone else or fitting into some kind of box annoys me so much!

The nightsky inspires and fascinates me, just as much as rain calms me down and fills me with serenity, passion and happiness. My biggest passion is music and I could never live a day without it, it's like the air to breathe. I especially love (symphonic-,heavy-) metal!

I'm extremely shy, insecure and self-doubting, always believe that I'm annoying those around me. That's why I tend to distance myself and don't speak/act at all, in fear of embrassing myself even more. It helps if there's someone who helps, grounds and understands me in these times! With the right person, I can be quite sarcastic and a bit goofy.

I firmly believe in the power of honesty and wish to be respected and accepted as much as I do show others.

My senses are pretty strong and my surroundings, especially combinated with my high social anxiety, sometimes lead me to anxiety and panic attacks, which I obliviously hate and am ashamed of. I struggle to get out of them on my own, but to someone really close to me it's actually not so hard. But that's why I also love the smell of the people closest to me, for example the person themselves, their home and clothes. It's like being wholly engulfed in it? I know that probably sounds strange...

I love watching movies and TV shows! To be honest, I prefer living in fictional worlds and daydreams over the real world. I'm especially enthusiastic about horror and fantasy.

I'm living vegan and I'm really passionate about it. I wish to never ever harm an animal and to treat them with all the love my heart is capable of! If I could, I would help and adopt every single animal and care for them lovingly.

I'm quite clingy and like to be surrounded by everything that's even remotely that of someone who's close to me. If I could, I would spend every minute with them and feel as (physicially and emotionally) close to them as possible.

I'm longing for someone to fall in love with me, accepting and supporting me just as I'm. I'm not easy to get along with and I'm used to feel like a outcast and weirdo, I believe that putting up with me is quite a burden, which I also don't wish to put upon someone. I don't need a lot of people around me, just one fully by my side is more than enough!

Okay darling the reasons may be shirt because of how many characters I am doing

For dc vilians/gotham I think

He is also very shy and doesn't like to go out of the house unless he has too. He doesn't have "normal" opinions about basically anything. He is super clingy too he also doesn't like the idea of animals in pain so he may be vegan with you.

iZombie I think

Now he may seem arrogant and mean but he is actually very sweet and caring. He understands what you like and dislike and he can respect that. He loves when you are clingy and with give you the same energy.

For slashers

Oh he is also vegan after seeing so many dead animals it made him super sad and he decided he would never support anything like that. He is also very anti social and has anxiety so he understands. He is very firm on what he believes just like you.

For stranger things

He totally understands being anti social and not wanting to be near to many people. He loves how strong you are about what your opinions are. He is super sweet and caring.

[flower-demise]

⋆⁺ 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯| 𝖐𝖙𝖍 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

They say that when you are looking at the stars, you’re actually looking into the past. Many of the stars we see at night have already faded away.

And yet I found you

A bts au inspired by hotarubi no Mori e, howl's moving castle and stories without a linear concept of time

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚⁺˚

✦𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 : 𝔗𝔞𝔢𝔥𝔶𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯, 𝔜𝔬𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔦 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

✦𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊 : 𝔉𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔶𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔲 ,𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔱, 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱/𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱, 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢

✦𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱�� 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢, 𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔲𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔡/𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔲𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰.

✦𝕬/𝖓: 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔞 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔶/𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔬𝔯 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔢.

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊 | 𝖈𝖍.1 | 𝖈𝖍.2 | 𝖈𝖍.3 | 𝖈𝖍.4 | 𝖈𝖍.5 | 𝖈𝖍.6| 𝖆𝖔3

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚⁺˚

Chapter 1: In the heart of the labyrinth, he waits..

‘I had the same dream last night’ you exclaimed with a pout on your face as your grandma prepared the tea to start of the day.

It was almost autumn now and the chill in the air sparked an excitement deep within you, soon you’d be able to see all the orange leaves decorating the trees. But even that didn’t lift your moods today. It didn’t help the fact that she took her time making it and that her only response was to smile kindly to you and simply say:

‘Again?’ ‘Oh dear please remind me’

‘Grandma!’ you exclaimed betrayed and she laughed at your overreaction. ‘You never listen to me when I tell you’ you fake cried but she simply hummed a quiet lullaby. She was too used to your morning temper, there was a reason she made the tea after all.

‘Here’ she said finally and filled the cup in front of you with a steaming light red liquid as she did with her own. Then she took the seat opposite to you and after taking a long inhale of the fragrance of the tea she said:

‘There now, I’m all ears’

‘Finally’ you mumbled and you mirrored her, taking a sip. Your eyes lit up immediately and she laughed at your reaction.

‘When did you gather the flowers?’ you asked, a new excitement settling in you.  

‘Oh, I went early in the morning, the summer is ending and I thought I’d pick my favorite grandchild’s flowers to make tea before she leaves’

‘I’m your only grandchild’ you mumbled again but felt grateful. This scent and this warmth between your hands was what autumn felt like to you. Another sip and the realization that you didn’t want to leave settled in.  

You were twelve now and you would have to go to a new school in a couple days, the thought only made you want to stay here with her more. Here, in the quietness of her cottage next to the sea and the meadows. Here, with the lullabies and the warm milk and the clear night skies. The world outside of this appeared as a scary place.  

‘Tell me about your dream dear’ she reminded you, maybe even to distract you.

‘Oh right’ another sip ‘I saw that boy again, the one with the mint hair’

‘Oh, your boyfriend’

The look you shot her made her laugh out loud once again.

‘Anyway’ you continued’ it was a sunny day and he was laying on the field. But he was frozen, I called his name a couple of times but he didn’t turn around’

Your grandma’s gaze shifted at that but you didn’t notice.

‘I was very worried only then I noticed how flowers were growing around him, almost covering him like a blanket. It felt..weird’

‘Weird how?’

You looked at her, sipping her tea untroubled.

‘Ah well..the worry left when I saw the flowers and I became sad but also hopeful. I don’t know how to explain it.’

‘It's not an easy thing to do, trying to explain feelings’  

‘But this isn't about that, it's about the boy.’ you emphasized and she watched amused ‘I knew the boy in my dream, I knew I knew him but now I can't remember how’.

She took another sip.

‘You said you called his name’

That surprised you, was she paying attention to you after all?

‘Did I? Ugh I can't even remember that. Why can't I remember?’

‘It's okay dear one.’ she said and you stopped your frantic motions to listen to her.

She smiled at you.

‘It was just a dream’

‘Yeah, I know’ you admitted halfheartedly.

‘But it was a beautiful dream’.

‘It was?’

‘Of course,’ she said.

‘Well, what does it mean?’

She looked at you for a few seconds and then after making up her mind and taking another sip, her eyes fell on the big clock on the wall behind you.

‘Look at that, it's almost noon. I’ll tell you another time, okay? When you are older.’  

‘Grandma’ you complained but the woman offered a pat in your head and started gathering your cups.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚⁺˚

(12 years later...)

‘I saw the weirdest dream last night’ you announced as you were preparing for the bookshop’s opening. A strange sense of déjà vu washed over you, like you had had a conversation like this before.  

There were some new arrivals you needed to stack in the shelves and clear the way of the little open space left. Your antique bookshop was exactly that, little. Taking the corner of a hidden street, it was a traveler's lucky discovery as some blogs have called it. And you would agree, you wouldn’t call this place mainstream at all, you knew well enough that it didn’t have the latest number one bestsellers although some second hand harry potter ones were laying on the fantasy section. It was basically a mixture of hidden gems of all genres, all of them second hand and some old tarot decks and postcards. That was one of the reasons you liked it this much, it felt like your own little magic shop. You cringed at the childish thought.  

And continued on your work.  

‘I was walking in a dark path.’ you explained as you opened the curtains and the morning sun slipped from the window throughout the wooden floor to the vintage paintings covering the walls.  

‘I knew someone was watching me, following me. I knew they were there but I couldn’t turn around, I just kept walking and walking’ you looked at the titles and hard covers of the new arrivals. Your hand instinctively travelled through them.  

'It felt as if I turned around to face whoever it was, I would be hypnotized, unable to leave’. Your gaze flickered on the title of the largest one with a dark red velvet cover and you knew it would be an instant tourist favorite. The title read: ‘The Story of Orpheus’ and you felt a strange tingle inside you. If you recalled correctly the tale spoke of his descend to the underworld to save his lover, you couldn’t pinpoint though how it ended.  

You ignored the feeling and uncovered more books.  

‘And then I heard my name’ the reminder alone made you shiver. 'But it was a beautiful voice that spoke it, I remember it being beautiful, because that’s why I turned around’.  

‘Very climatic I know, and do you know what happened then?’ you turned around to face your listener’s reaction, only to see your cat lick its paw completely ignoring your rumblings.

‘Please don’t be so invested’ you joked and the cat stopped when it realized you were staring at her.  

‘I woke up’ you signed and the ginger furball walked in front you like it was her runaway, her fluffy tail falling under your chin and tickling you. A small smile appeared on your face.  

‘What if they were my soulmate or something, calling out for me?’ you swear the look she just gave you along with her little growl was one of the ‘don't be such a pathetic bitch’ kind. You shallowed your pride.

‘Yeah, you are right’ you admitted defeated ‘Soulmates aren't real..what a childish notion’.  

A familiar sound pulled you out of your little conversation. You instinctively turned towards the door to greet the new costumer that the bell had announced. Only to find the door closed and the ringing still echoing in your ears.  

‘Am I hearing things?’ you questioned out loud and turned to face the cat, only to see her strangely alarmed, her tail straight up and her attention fixed towards the entrance.

‘The old thing must be broken’ you decided. ‘I don’t even know when grandma last replaced it’ you tried to calm your little friend and you went on to check it for yourself when she growled again, halting you.

‘What’s wrong?’ you questioned, slowly retracting and starting to get creeped out.  

That’s when the music faintly reached your ears, a familiar melody like an echo of a distant place, a forgotten dream.  A sad piano playing from deep in the underworld, you were consumed by its sweet sound. Most of all because you had heard it before. Like a plea to someone, an invitation, one you’ve been waiting for all your life, the sunlight blurred in your side vision and your eyelids became heavier and heavier, surrendering to the delicate notes. Now you could almost follow it, the music would lead you to him.  

Then a loud noise of something falling covered everything, the music vanished into whatever realm it came from and you stared in horror at all the books your cat had scattered all over the floor. You stood there for a couple of seconds trying to center yourself, knowing that the little devil had just gotten you out of whatever state you had slipped into.  

The rest of the day passed uneventful, only a couple of teenagers wearing their school uniforms came by to check the shelves and an old man who was particularly interested in an old edition of a book. Unfortunately, you had to inform him you didn’t possess the said edition and he only mumbled a ‘people these days chose eBooks over hard covers from the beginning of the 20th century ' and left without saying a simple thank you.  

Uneventful entirely.

Your mood was getting lower and lower, you knew it was a weekday so not many costumers would come but still, you were well aware that if you wanted to keep the place running you had to start marketing it somehow. Just because it was your grandma’s shop and it held sentimental value, it didn’t mean it could sustain you. It did what it was supposed to though, reminded you of her.

It didn’t lift your mood either as you were closing now, making sure you locked twice, that you were overly on edge the whole day, jumping from the slightest sound and shadow on the walls. You were a scared cat no surprise there, but even you knew that something odd had happened that morning. Something you were eager to wash away with a hot bath.  

You bid you little neighbor farewell for the night, making sure her bowl was full before you took your way home. But the night was beautiful and the air not overly chilly so you took your time exploring the rest of the antique shops that covered your street. You were in a very particular mood, under the full moon, walking the pattern lid streets and spotting all sort of odd objects in the shop windows, you felt like you had entered a fairytale.  

You stopped in front of the old bakery that you used to get those chocolate biscuits you loved when you were a kid and even though it had closed long now, you swore you could smell the fresh baked goods under this moon. You passed a few people covered with their scarves and bennies signaling that winter was almost here taking autumn’s place, and made-up stories about where they were going and who they were.  

Lost in your imagination you didn’t realize you had found yourself on a street you’d never been before. You saw the slate engraved with the words ‘Acheron'. You hadn't even heard of this street. But it was so beautifully lit under the dim lights you were eager to find where it led. You were so excited in fact that you didn’t notice when the music started, it had come naturally like the first snow, fully fitting the environment around you. And so, when you turned on the corner and started walking down a circular staircase you didn’t question it at all.  

Like an enchanted mouse you obeyed the hand who hovered melancholically over the keys of an old piano.  He played them so skillfully, like he had done a hundred times, not missing a single note and you couldn’t help but be moved by him, quite literally.  

The ground from below your feet changed from the stony road to a heavy carpet and when you looked up again you found a long corridor staring back at you. It extended as far as your eyes could sea and when you looked to the ground again you saw green smoke had covered your feet.  

shit

The music became deeper and richer as you kept walking, but the corridor kept extending like it had no end. No end and no beginning. The only thing that changed, was that the smoke had risen higher.  

where were you?

You sensed something behind you shift and you turned towards it. The same endless corridor extending in all its silent glory, only now you knew someone was there. Hidden in the dark.  

‘Who are you?’ you whispered, finally breaking the silence, only to realize the music had long stopped. The only sound now was your own heavy breathing and the beating of your heart, which got quicker and quicker by the second. Everything was beginning settling in and the all the question were bubbling from the back of your mind. Like..

how the hell did you get here? Wherever here even were...

It’s a dream. You decided. This couldn’t be real. You had gotten home long now and you were dreaming, carefully stuck under a million blankets.  

then why were you so aware of a dream?

A sound like wings unfolding had you turn around again. You were trapped like a mouse but between what you didn’t know. Only that it was everywhere, behind you and in front of you, in the walls around you, in every little corner where shadows could reach.  

if this was a dream, then why didn’t you wake up?

A scent of something sweet like night flowers reached your nose and you inhaled it like opium.  

if this were a dream, could you shape it to your will?  

You stopped. Took a deep breath and turn to face the wall. This is a dream you kept repeating as you concentrated on the hard solid material, you touched it gently and imagined a path, a way out. The material obeyed to your will and shifted to thin air, another corridor appearing in front you.  

A laugh echoed. A laugh that made every little hair on your neck stand up.  

‘Look at you, clever little mouse’ the voice was deep and ancient and run down your spine. Your feet shaked at the power it held, like it could move the very earth, or like it came from it.

You kept walking, you had to. You ignored the creature which you sensed to be closer than before, as if to limit its power, its spell on you.

And yet, dread washed over you as soon as you stared at the same path, it was as if you never had strayed from. He was playing with your mind. He must have. No matter where you went, which turn you took, which doorway you opened you ended up in the beginning, with the presence of someone following you closely, like a guardian.

shit, shit, shit

You stopped in your tracks, your breath frantic. No matter where you run, he had the upper hand. It was like he was one with this place. Your pride gave you a newfound strength though, as you didn’t want the creature to enjoy your desperation, your pointless tries. You were scared to the bone, petrified in fact but refused to die hunted. You tried calm yourself, wherever you were..

you found your way in, you’d find your way out  

‘Defeated?’ he purred close to your neck ‘already?’ you could feel a sharp smile at the words that cut your skin like knives.  

‘You mortals are so predictable’. Disappointment and arrogance coated his voice now. And now more than ever you wished to defy his predatory aura.

‘You aren’t real’ you spoke with a newfound strength, as to believe it yourself.

The laugh echoed in the corridor darker than before and you got a glimpse at the smoke that had rose almost to your waist.  

fuck

‘Isn't the anxiety running hot in your blood real little mouse? Or the way my voice brings forth a primordial fear in your belly?’ you felt his breath in the back of your neck. The scent from before filling your senses. His scent.  

‘I’m real. You are not’ you said again, decisive and turned around to see only darkness. A small victory.

‘Such scary words from someone who is afraid to face me’ you teased, pushing your luck, but you didn’t care. You knew you had won over something, over the fear of the unknown, over sharp claws and hearts made of stone. You had stopped running.  

The same sound of wings.

‘Oh’ he said with a chuckle. 'I will enjoy this. I'm here little girl’ his voice was almost lyrical ‘I’m here in the dark, can you see me?’

You stared at the abyss ahead of you and your human eyes could only register something twist in the dark. Your stomach followed shortly.

Through the darkness, surrounded by smoke you saw a beautiful man,  

no..  

A creature with the face of a man with eyes that could read your very soul. Dark wavy hair fell messily above his shoulders, he was so breathtaking that the sight of the black wings hovering behind him didn’t startle you as much.  

‘Now you see me’ he said lower. He rested his head on his palm and gazed at you.

‘Now I see you’ you spoke quieter but you knew he heard you.

‘Yet you aren’t the one who guided me here, the one who played the beautiful music’ your gut feeling could tell you this. The man who observed you had the face of an angel, of a forgotten god, but he hid emptiness behind it, like the abyss itself but the music ..the music didn’t remind you of the dark, it reminded you of sunny days and childhood loves.

‘Clever indeed’. He spoke as you figured it out. ‘I wonder that myself. Which of my dear guests called someone like you to this cold forgotten place?’ he had moved closer to you, eyes not ever leaving yours. And you felt exposed, the hidden darkest part inside you felt exposed to his lingering gaze. You’d never forget his eyes, like two dark oceans, they held the colors of dreams in their depths.  

Here, in a place like this, you met his gaze back and your eyes roamed from his dark attire covered with jewels to the rings of gems adorning his fingers and the silver necklace hanging from his neck. They stayed there and the man felt you had seen past his exterior as he had seen past yours. An equal match, one he never expected.

It wasn’t long before your eyes were closing though and you felt a hand delicately brushing your hair.

the smoke!  

You had forgotten about the smoke and it was too late to care now.

It was strange but your heart had slowed down and before you surrendered to sleep you didn’t feel fear but an odd wonder had begun to settle inside you, birthed out of all you had seen and out of the unworldly man with the black wings who caught you sweetly in his arms when you fell.

{To be continued...}

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This chapter’s moodboard.

Ps: I’d love to read your thoughts about the story

[gusu-emilu]

Wangxian: The Autumn Chrysanthemum

Post-Canon, Rated G, 1.5k - read on AO3

Background Info: The Chongyang Festival, or the Double Ninth Festival, is a lucky date for longevity, celebrated with customs such as climbing mountains and drinking chrysanthemum wine. The word for 'nine,' jiu, sounds like the word for 'long (time),' creating a link between the meanings.

* * *

Wei Ying raised the jar of liquor to his lips. The sweet, floral liquid swirled inside him, sending a rush of heat, then coolness through his chest. A small, sticky dribble slid down to his chin. He wiped it off.

“The chrysanthemum wine is good,” Wei Ying said. “Very rich.”

He turned to the man beside him. The sight of the gentle curves of his face, his tall, steady frame draped with light blue robes—this image filled Wei Ying with warmth that met the unique coolness of the flower’s liquor, the currents flowing into each other and relaxing his entire body.

He smiled. “Lan Zhan, do you remember the first time we shared a drink?”

Lan Zhan stirred a bit. His lashes lowered as he glanced toward Wei Ying’s feet, raised as their eyes met for a brief moment. Then he looked back out to the landscape stretching before them, a vast green valley beneath the mountain they had climbed, dots of the autumn’s scarlet and golden colors reflecting in his eyes.

“I remember that you used a talisman to coerce me.”

Wei Ying choked on the wine a bit, until his coughing melted into a syrupy chuckle. “Of all things you could’ve chosen to reminisce about, you had to pick that.” He drew in a breath of crisp air and sighed. “Why must you incriminate me so? Tell me that you secretly felt exhilarated by breaking the rules, or that you wished you had let me play with your headband, or that you liked calling me Wei-gege. Don’t leave me to say all the sappy memories myself.”

A flock of geese flew overhead, their wings stroking the morning sun and blending with the sound of the mountain breeze.

“All these things, I remember fondly,” Lan Zhan said.

“So do I.” Wei Ying swirled the jar of liquor, watched the pale, honey-colored liquid encircle itself. “You know, the Chongyang Festival is the only time I would drink chrysanthemum wine over Emperor’s Smile.” He shot a grin at Lan Zhan. “Otherwise, I would always prefer this one splendor I know from Gusu.”

The corners of Lan Zhan’s mouth crept upward. “Flattery will not bring you more to drink.”

“Aiya, you see right through me.” In one swift movement, he locked arms with Lan Zhan and nuzzled his cheek into Lan Zhan’s shoulder. Lan Zhan’s breath slowed, a comfortable swell against him. “I already have too much of one certain splendor from Gusu. Better not to have more.”

Lil’ Apple hummed quietly behind them. The donkey was tired after long months of wandering with Wei Ying, until finally meeting with Lan Zhan at the halfway point to Gusu. And actually, Wei Ying was tired too, for they had only returned from their travels a few days ago.

He sank deeper into Lan Zhan’s side.

“When I was traveling with Lil’ Apple, I kept dreaming about our days in the Cloud Recesses. I…I miss it. Back then. How we were all so young. Not even as old as A-Yuan is now.” He lifted the jar up to eye level and shook his head at it. “You know, I think this wine is making me a little too nostalgic.”

Lan Zhan’s arm softened in Wei Ying’s hold. “Chrysanthemum blooms in autumn when other blossoms are fading.” He tilted his chin up slightly, looking out over the trees changing colors in the valley. “Naturally, upon drinking, one would remember moments passed.”

“Mm, you’re right.” Wei Ying lifted his head from Lan Zhan’s shoulder to join him in admiring the scenery. “I shouldn’t forget the meaning of Chongyang, should I?”

“Jiu yue, jiu ri,” Lan Zhan said.

“The ninth day of the ninth month.” Wei Ying waved the jar farther out in front of them, lifting it higher, as if offering it to the valley. He called out loudly like a proclamation. “Two nines—two jiu’s—two long times—just like the two long lives we will share together!”

He smiled, his eyelids feeling heavier as he lowered the jar and leaned against Lan Zhan once more.

“I am happy you have returned,” Lan Zhan said, his voice quivering a bit, like a pond suddenly overcome with ripples at the final entrance of a skipping stone. “Wherever your future takes you, I am happy for it.”

Lan Zhan had never been one to repeat himself. But this sentiment, he had said more than once in the days since Wei Ying returned from his travels, always with that slight tone of turbulence. Listening to these words might have done more to move the soul than drinking chrysanthemum wine.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying chided. “My future takes me to you, and nowhere else.”

A warm stillness spread through them, passing from one man to the other through their intertwined arms.

“You’ll have to help me with that, though,” Wei Ying added. “I need to build up Mo Xuanyu’s golden core so I can cultivate to immortality with you.” He chuckled. “Who would’ve thought that after everything, I’d wind up as a student at the Cloud Recesses yet again?”

Lan Zhan’s bangs blew in the breeze, waving gently over his cheeks. “At last, you come back to Gusu with me.”

Comfort bubbled inside Wei Ying at those words. He let it fill the cavern of longing that time had dug deeper and deeper into him.

“I am. I am so, so glad to come back to Gusu with you.”

They watched the morning sun rise higher over the valley. A splotch of golden color from a small field of chrysanthemums lay below them, glowing brighter, almost caramelizing, as the sun’s rays strengthened.

“Have you heard of the poet Tao Yuanming?” Wei Ying asked.

“Tell me.”

Wei Ying paused, suspicious that Lan Zhan knew of the poet already and was just pretending. But perhaps he would be content to listen anyway.

“Well, he wrote a lot about the beauty of chrysanthemums. He appreciated their noble nature, their power for healing.” Wei Ying swirled the jar of wine again. “He was a lot like me, really.”

“You have written chrysanthemum poetry?” Lan Zhan said with a small smirk.

Wei Ying laughed sheepishly. “Ah, no, no, I haven’t. Sorry to disappoint.”

Lan Zhan gave him a fond look that said, I know. Continue.

“Okay, let’s see.” Wei Ying stroked his chin, making a show of thoughtfulness. “As Tao Yuanming was growing up, he was surrounded by hardship. Clans were fighting with each other, overthrowing each other, wreaking violence and betrayal at every turn.

“He joined the civil service to help his people, but all he met was hypocrisy. Scheming, thievery, wars.

“Then, his sister died.”

Lan Zhan’s frame grew tense, as did Wei Ying’s own body.

“The death of his sister was too much for him, and the government officials had only ever abused his good intentions, so he decided to flee public life. He went to the countryside to become a meager farmer, and started a new family.

“Generals came by and asked him to rejoin the civil service, but he refused. He could not compromise his principles by returning to that world. Instead, he lived in poverty, for the single richness in his life was the ability to admire nature and write of its beauties.

“Sometimes he felt lonely.”

Wei Ying breathed in the mountain air, along with the calming scent of tea leaves and pine. This scent usually filled the Cloud Recesses, but now it hung from Lan Zhan beside him, steadying him.

“However, there was a visitor who would come to Tao Yuanming’s farm. This visitor would bring him liquor, and simply sit with him, enjoying his company.”

The faint surface of a low wooden table seemed to grow in the space between them, the chatter of guests at a restaurant, the sting of spicy peppers on soft tongues, the crinkling sound of A-Yuan playing with a toy butterfly.

“So Tao Yuanming grew fond of liquor, and he drank it in front of the chrysanthemum blossoms. He found peace and gratitude where one would have thought he had nothing.”

Having concluded the story, Wei Ying looked to his side.

After a long silence, Lan Zhan said, “In these things there lies a deep meaning. Yet when we would express it, words suddenly fail us.”

“Wow!” Wei Ying’s eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face. “So profound! You should be a poet like Tao Yuanming, Lan Zhan.”

A terse, barely-audible huff escaped Lan Zhan. “You speak highly of the artist, yet do not recognize his words.”

“That’s Tao Yuanming’s poetry?”

Lan Zhan’s only answer was to gaze back onto the sunny valley, an air of amusement floating in the breeze around him.

“Oh, well. I suppose that’s what I get for trying to impress you.” Wei Ying took another sip of liquor, felt its heat and coolness rush through him.

“Here, you can have the last bit.” He held the jar up to Lan Zhan’s lips. “Hanguang-Jun should drink the chrysanthemum wine of the Chongyang Festival, so he has a long life with me.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes twinkled, the same golden color as the wine.

Wei Ying tipped the jar of wine between Lan Zhan’s lips. Then he placed his own lips on Lan Zhan’s to savor the chrysanthemums a little longer.

* * *

What is there I can do to assuage this mood? Only enjoy myself drinking my unstrained wine. I do not know about a thousand years, Rather let me make this morning last forever.

-Tao Yuanming, "Written on the Ninth Day of the Ninth Month"

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by visiting me on AO3!

I am not of Chinese descent, so feel free to inform me of any cultural missteps.

[queenbirbs]

waiting for rain | Ethan x MC

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC

Warnings: language

Word count: 2,786

Summary: After the funeral, Sloane catches a ride. Post chapter 11. 

------

It’s a beautiful day. 

The last week has been nothing but blue skies and balmy temperatures, with autumn peeking its head around the corner. The city is lovely anytime of year, but Boston thrives in the fall. The Common and adjacent gardens come alive in a spray of colors as the leaves change, the canopy dipped in orange and yellow and red. 

It feels wrong, then, that the day is so nice and bright as they trudge along the rows of graves and back towards Bryce’s car. Glancing over her shoulder, Sloane frowns at the swath of black as Danny’s family gathers around the grave to watch the interment. Their labored breathing and soft cries carry over the open lawn and down to the road. 

“What a shitty fucking day.” Jackie kicks at a pile of loose gravel along the pavement with her heel.

“At least the rain held off,” Sienna pipes up from where she’s slumped against the car. Clenched in her shaking hand is a gladiolus that Danny’s sister gave her from the casket spray. Noticing Sloane’s attention on the flower, Sienna traces a finger along the white petals with a wobbly smile. “I’m going to press it in my copy of The Secret of Ninradell.”    

“Nerd,” Jackie mutters, coaxing a tremulous chuckle from Sienna. 

Beside them, the doors unlock with a droning whir. The three of them pile into the back; Elijah and Bryce’s voices drift down as they approach. 

“You know, all those parking tickets you keep getting are starting to make a lot more sense now.”

“These hands are for performing surgical miracles, not parallel parking on an incline.”

“A kid with a learner’s permit could parallel park this, dude. Your car is the Chevrolet equivalent of a sardine can.”

“We’re well aware of that,” Jackie chimes in from the center seat. “So can you two hurry it up?” 

As Bryce helps Elijah into the passenger seat, Sloane catches sight of Ethan’s car tucked in along the other side of the access road. She caught a brief glance of him at the graveside service, but he disappeared into the crowd of mourners soon after her impromptu eulogy. The sun’s reflection on his windshield prevents her from seeing if he’s even inside. But then, a few cars down, Harper gives a little goodbye wave towards his car as she and Aurora reach her own vehicle. 

Sloane throws open the door. Jackie frowns and reaches out for her as she slides out. 

“Hey, what are you--”

“I’m going to catch a ride with Dr. Ramsey.” At the wave of worried expressions she receives, Sloane sighs. “I’m okay. I promise. You guys shouldn’t… I’ll see you at home.” 

With that pithy attempt at reassurance, she shuts the door and crosses over to the S-Class. The driver’s side window rolls down before she reaches it, revealing Ethan in his customary black suit. His striking blue eyes are tinged red -- a sight Sloane has become accustomed to over the last week when catching herself in the bathroom mirror. 

“Hi,” she says.

“Hello,” he returns. He glances down her figure, as if cataloging something, and then back up to meet her eyes. “Come on, then.”

“Thanks.” 

She crosses to the passenger side and settles into the seat, avoiding his curious gaze by feigning a struggle with the seatbelt. Thankfully, he drops whatever question is plaguing him and starts the engine. Within a few minutes, they’re cruising south down the highway. The classical station finishes its latest piece and the suave-voiced host segways into a round of commercials. When the local news spot starts, both of them reach for the volume button, their fingers bumping clumsily. Ethan reaches it first and turns off the radio, then reaches down to capture Sloane’s hand with his. He links their fingers and squeezes, once, then again, before resting their clasped hands against the leather armrest. His thumb makes easy, gentle strokes along her skin. 

Sloane eases back into her seat. The dull roar of the road isn’t enough to fill the aching silence inside her head. It makes her think of being back in that tented room, all alone, waiting to die. 

“The service was lovely, as was your eulogy.” 

“Sienna should’ve gotten to speak. She -- those were her words, all she could bear to write, but she asked… well, begged me at the last minute to say them for her.” 

“That was kind of you to do.”

Her eyes clench tight at his praise. She focuses on the measured sweeps of his thumb, but all the bitterness in her chest keeps building and building until it bursts free. 

“It should’ve been raining. Why was it… why did it have to be so sunny today? It should’ve rained. He deserved that much, at least. He was one of the only staff on my side when Landry was trying to sabotage me. He didn’t need proof or need to hear my friends vouch for me. He just believed me, straight up. And he was so sweet, and so kind, and so funny and now he’s dead, and I know we took Lasagna’s oath to not play God, but if I could, I would bring back Travis just to kill him for all the hurt he caused, and I know that goes against every--”

“Hey.” Ethan glances up from the road and over to meet her watery gaze. “It’s all right. You’re allowed to feel angry, and hurt.”

“I know,” she says, but it still feels dirty, somehow, to agree. She survived, didn’t she? Why should she get the privilege to fall apart at the seams when two people are dead and buried six feet under? 

She keeps quiet for the rest of the drive. Unfortunately, it’s a rather short one, what with the cemetery being only twenty minutes north of the city. All too soon, they’re crossing the Tobin Bridge. The city skyline crowds the horizon, stacks of gray and glass forking up into the cloudless sky. Ethan takes the wide curve of an exit that crosses the Charles River and into the tunnel, down below the blue blood streets of Boston. As he prepares to merge over to take them towards her apartment, she squeezes his hand to grab his attention. 

“Can I…?” she trails off, regretting how weak the request sounds. She bites back a relieved sigh when he pulls his focus away from the side mirror and over to her. 

“Of course.” 

They make their way through the ever-present downtown congestion before he turns down a side street and into his building’s garage. Neither speak as they exit the car. His hand finds hers once more as they step into the elevator. Jenner greets them at the door with her favorite stuffed duck, insisting on meeting her quota of belly rubs before allowing them entrance. 

“Would you like a drink?” Ethan asks as he steps over the sprawled form of his dog with practiced ease. 

“Yes, please.” 

After a few more pats, Sloane wanders over into the kitchen. Ethan’s suit jacket lays slung across the island, a more telling sign of his mental state than anything visible on his face. His tie joins the pile as he pours them both several fingers of scotch. She takes the tumbler and knocks it back, ignoring the fierce burn at the back of her throat; she hands it back for a refill. 

“Fine,” he sighs, “but this isn’t a jello shot at some tiki bar in Panama City Beach.”

“I wouldn’t know, seeing as I spent my spring breaks waiting tables,” she mutters against the rim of her glass, taking a small sip at his behest. 

“I hated every second of it, if it’s any consolation.”

The murmured confession draws her up short.

“Wait -- you were a PCB spring-breaker? You? The man who can’t name a single artist on the top forty hits? The person whose idea of a good time is reading the green journal and annotating the margins with all the mistakes?”  

“I don’t see how knowledge of Harry Mars’s discography would increase my enjoyment in life.”

Sloane’s face breaks into a grin at the name faux pas, prompting a scowl from him. “What? You said it yourself that I don’t know--”

“No, no, ignore me. Go on.” She rests her hip against the counter. “Please tell me about how you wound up in Florida for spring break.”

“It was Tobias’s idea, actually. He told me we were going to a medical conference in Atlanta. It wasn’t until we passed through Atlanta and he showed no sign of stopping that he told me where we were actually going. By that point, it was far too late to request he turn around. I was, in effect, doomed.”

“Doomed to spend a week at the beach. Poor you.” Rolling her eyes, she knocks her elbow into his side. “Did you at least have some fun?”

“I did. Well, after I went into a store and bought some more... appropriate clothing. Everything in my bag was pressed khakis and polos.” 

Her mind immediately conjures up a younger Ethan, wearing board shorts and flip flops in whatever searing color the local beach shop sold. 

“There has to be pictures, right? I’ve met Tobias, he’s too much of a snake not to have snapped a photo or two.” 

“I’m sure he does,” Ethan agrees. “For blackmail purposes, of course.” 

“And here I was hoping that our time in Miami was your most memorable trip to the Sunshine State.”

“It was.” The weak little smirk she wears disappears, folding under the intense scrutiny of his gaze as it rakes across her. “Why did you ride back with me?” he asks. 

“Because Bryce’s car is ‘the Chevrolet equivalent to a sardine can,’ according to Elijah.” 

He doesn’t acknowledge her lame attempt at brushing aside the question. When the silence grows too long between them, Sloane drags in a shaky breath and caves. “Because being around them, having them dote on me and worry about me, it’s… suffocating. And not because I don’t love them, or appreciate them, but I don’t… I don’t see the point. They should be able to grieve without me burdening them.”

“Sloane.” The way he says her name with all the care in the world drives that guilt deeper. She wants to shrug away his hold on her as he wraps his arms around her shoulders, but she doesn’t. She sinks into his embrace, breathing in the scent of his cologne, feeling the thud of his heart against her cheek. “You are not a burden.”

“Hearing that and knowing that are two different things,” she points out. 

“Then I’ll repeat it a thousand more times until you get it through your thick head.” 

“I don’t know what to do. I’m sad, and hurt, and angry about Danny. He didn’t deserve what happened to him, and neither did Bobby. And Rafael, he almost died, and-- and I almost died. And I’m sad, and hurt, and angry about that. But what gives me the right to feel that way, when I got to live, and they didn’t? Danny, he… he begged Travis to let us go, and all I did was stand there. I fucking stood there and let him kill my friend.”

She doesn’t notice the tears on her face, not until Ethan catches them and wipes them away. “And even after you came in, even after I was wheeled out and got to see Kyra, even after I was discharged, there’s been this crushing weight on my chest. I even wrote goodbye letters on my phone, but I can’t bring myself to delete them. Because what if we’re wrong? It’s like… like what if my body suddenly rejects the antidote and I’m back in that bubble? Like I’m going to wake up and be back in that room, as if this is all a last-ditch effort my brain has conjured up to help me cope with dying.”

Ethan makes a pained noise in the back of his throat. Gathering her impossibly closer, he presses his lips to her hair. 

“This is real. You’re okay. You’re safe, Sloane. This is real.”

“But I don’t want it to be. I want it to all be some sick dream. They wouldn’t’ve even been there if it weren’t for me. If I hadn’t stolen the senator from Mass Kenmore, Danny and Bobby would still be alive. I just… I want to go back. I want to order them all out of that room before Travis ever gets his hand on that canister. If I could trade places with them, we wouldn’t be burying our friends.”

“You’re wrong,” he tells her. “If you were the only one in that room, we’d be burying you. And after coming close to such a thing, it isn’t a reality I’m ever willing to face.” 

Sloane shakes her head as the tears come faster and faster, her body trembling against his. She feels as if she’s drowning, but her head’s above water. 

“The responsibility for what happened lies solely with Travis,” he tries to assure her. “He’s the one who pulled the trigger. He’s the one who was determined to get his revenge, no matter who got caught in the crossfire. He admitted as much to me in his last moments without an ounce of regret.”

“Ethan, I…” her throat closes around the rest of her plea, but somehow, he hears the words. 

His arms loop around her waist, holding her up as her knees buckle under the sudden weight of her grief. His words become nothing more than soft murmurings as he picks her up and carries her off down the hall. 

In his bedroom, he sets her down on the bed. Kneeling before her, he picks up one foot and then the next, unbuckling the strappy heels she wears. Sloane leans forward and strokes against the grain of his stubble; she drags in a steadying breath when he leans into her touch. She reaches down for the hem of her dress, but he beats her to it. Raising her arms instead, she lets him slide the dark fabric over her head. He adds his own clothing to the floor, then joins her in his bed, his naked skin warm against hers. 

Under the covers, Ethan tucks her there against his chest. Her eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his fingers tracing along her bare skin. It reminds her of that last morning they shared together, after the trial. The heartache now is different, vicious in that way only death can be. Sloane burrows closer, wishing she could bottle this feeling of safety and drink from it on the darker days ahead. 

“Yours was the longest,” she admits, her voice sounding small in the quiet room.

“Hmm?” he murmurs. 

“Your letter.” 

The line of him stiffens, his hand stilling its movement. 

“Hand me your phone.”

She rolls over and digs through the pile of their clothing, retrieving her phone from the pocket of her dress and handing it off to him. He holds it between them so she can watch as he navigates to her notepad app. The letters are all there, just as she said, in alphabetical order. She doesn’t miss how his thumb hovers above Naveen’s. 

“I asked him to look after you,” she explains, biting her lip against the rush of emotion at knowing the words hidden beneath the names. 

“When did you write these?”

Ethan’s eyes move from the screen and over to hers, tears collecting in the cradle of his lower lid. Her gaze never waves from his as she answers. 

“After you took Raf away. It… became real, after that. Not that it wasn’t real before, with Danny, but to see him fall into a coma right next to me was a wake-up call. I didn’t want that to happen to me. Not without being able to say goodbye to the people I loved.”   

Leaning across, he kisses her temple, and then her cheek, and then her lips. Then, with a few, quick taps, he deletes the letters and returns her phone. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. At her raised brow, he doubles down. “Not for-- that was for you. I’m saying thank you because you listened to me.” 

She snuggles close once more when he curls his arm around her and flashes him a curious smile. 

“Go on.”

“You didn’t give up,” he tells her, his voice gone thick with emotion. 

Between the sheets, her hand finds his.

“You didn’t give up, either,” she reminds him.

“On you?” he hums, pulling their linked hands towards himself to press a kiss to her fingers. “Never.”

------

Author notes and what-have-yous:

So, I learned that only eleven percent of medical schools still recite the Hippocratic oath verbatim, and about thirty-three percent use Lasagna’s modern oath (which is why I included it instead).This is coming from a few articles I read, all seemingly based in the U.S., so it may not pertain to every school. 

The ‘blue blood streets of Boston’ is pulled directly from a Bob Seger song, though there is a historical connotation behind it. 

The green journal is another name for the American Journal of Medicine. 

[liladiurne]

Brighter Than Bright - extract from chapter 14

Look at me, with chapter 14 already underway barely a week or so after posting 13. Isn’t that a good omen?

Once more, here is the beginning bit, because I don’t have anything at this point that wouldn’t spoil too much for you. I thought this would be perfect, because it announces a little what’s coming in the chapter without actually introducing the new characters. There is so much good stuff coming this chapter! I may share another extract before it’s finished, but we’ll see, because this is a bit longer than what I normally share, I think. Either way, I think this is going to be a long chapter!

This extract may change and differ a little in the finished chapter, as I tend to move things around when I edit. I have proofread this a bit quickly, so there may be some typos, which you can disregard because they will surely be fixed at some point. I hope you enjoy!

EXTRACT FROM CHAPTER 14

While Harry’s second heat does not last quite as long as the first one did, a few more days must pass before he feels strong enough to leave his bed. Charlie remains by his side throughout, drawing while Harry reads or sleeps. From the way he dutifully attends to Harry’s every need, constantly asking if he is hungry or thirsty or tired, it is evident that he still feels guilty at having left his little brother to such torment, regardless of how many times Harry has told him that it was probably for the best.

When Harry thinks back to those dreadful few days, he is filled with a combination of fury and shame. Perhaps worse than the memory of his suffering is the knowledge that, although he does not remember it, he seemingly called out for Mr Snape. Fanny said that the heat is meant to coerce him into mating, and he tries to console himself with these words. He suspects that this irrepressible, forceful longing does not discriminate between one Alpha and the other, and for this reason, he is nearly grateful that Charlie was absent. As he is so often reminded, he is not truly related to Charlie after all. If his reason can be so addled, if this strange instinct inside his chest, this part of him that does nothing but crave and crave, can resort to yearning for a despicable Alpha such as Mr Snape, Harry dares not imagine what could have happened if his brother’s scent had been nearby when he was in the throes of the heat. The oestrus has a mind of its own. If it can turn abhorrence into attraction, who knows what it can make of brotherly love.

Most of what occurs during the heats does not stay with him for long. He cannot recall much apart from the pain and some vague, feverish recollections of waking up and then sleeping again. He knows that he dreams, sometimes vividly, sometimes rather hazily, in wisps of thoughts and images, but all remembrance of what those dreams contain leave him swiftly as the fever fades. He is unsure whether these lapses in memory are caused by the fever itself or simply by the laudanum. Perhaps it is a combination of the two. But it is just as well that he cannot remember. Harry has no desire to know what feverish delusions might have resulted in him saying Mr Snape’s name.

At least he did not ask for Mr Malfoy. He does not think that he could live with such ghastly knowledge.

When Harry finally leaves his room for good, he finds that a thick blanket of snow has covered the world, thus putting an end to horseback ventures with his brother until spring. He is somewhat disappointed at having missed the last days of autumn, but as soon as he is well enough to leave the house, he heads outside with Charlie and the two of them engage in a great snow battle, to which even their father participates. Later in the afternoon, as the sun sets, they construct a great snowman in front of the house and dress him in a scruffy hat and scarf before retreating inside for some mulled wine.

Harry usually finds winter most inconvenient. As beautiful as snow can be at the beginning, it never takes long for him to miss the smell of the warm summer air, the loud humming of the cicadas, the wide, green expanse of his field. Unable to retreat to his habitual refuge under the shadow of the beechwood tree or to go on long walks by the river, Harry must spend most of winter confined to the house, forced to read every book he can find, often ones that he has already read countless times before. When he is truly unable to find entertainment, he sometimes sits at his desk and writes short little stories for his own amusement, or he plays with Hedwig, sprawled on the floor and throwing a ball of twine around for her to catch.

This year, of course, with Charlie present, there is no such lack of distraction.

On the first week of December, after a particularly heavy snowfall, Charlie spends at least an hour rummaging through the shed behind the barn until he finally unearths the old sleigh that Hagrid made for them years ago. It needs a little fixing, having been buried under some tools and refuse for nearly a decade, but as soon as it is good to use, it is attached to one of the draft horses’ harness. Once they are dressed thickly and warmly enough, Harry and Charlie settle on the sleigh, which is barely big enough to hold them both now that they are grown, and spend the afternoon being dragged around speedily through the snow, laughing and yelling and causing quite a raucous through the village, for which they are promptly scolded at supper. Their mother is not shy in expressing her disappointment at finding out that she has not, as she believed she had, raised respectable young men, but rather careless little ruffians.

As much as he loves the warmer weather, Harry is rather looking forward to the colder days, hoping that the river might freeze, because Charlie has also found their old ice skates hanging in the back of the shed. At present, however, the water still flows merrily, with no sign of stopping.

“It is so unfortunate that you were not here last winter. It was frozen for months,” Harry says regretfully one morning as they stare at the river, having taken advantage of the sunny day and the melting snow to walk alongside it.

“It is not cold enough yet. Perhaps in January.”

Harry shrugs. “It may not even harden enough for skating.”

“Do you remember that big pond in Hampstead, behind the marketplace?” Charlie muses, nudging Harry with his elbow to try and shake him out of his sombre mood. “It was always fit for skating. Do you remember? Grandfather would take us there when we visited in the winter.”

“I remember,” Harry says distractedly.

His mother never wanted him to go. She would insist that his brothers and cousins were too rough and that he would get hurt and that it would be better if he remained at the house with the girls. But Grandfather would not hear it. He had never once left Harry behind, even if it meant arguing ceaselessly with his daughter. It is true that the boys were terribly rough, however. Harry remembers how they darted around dangerously on their skates, crashing into one another at terrible speeds, and Grandfather was aware of the danger their carelessness posed for Harry, who was much smaller than they were. He would pretend that he was afraid to fall and hurt his old bones, and he would ask Harry to remain nearby and please not let go of his arm while they skated around the edges of the pond safely. Harry should perhaps have been upset at being subjected to this protective treatment while his brothers were free to play however they wanted, but he took a sort of pride at being kept close as the favourite. He still remembers how Grandfather’s steady hand would hold him up whenever he lost his balance or whenever the blade of his skate would catch into the ice and threaten to trip him. All of his brothers and cousins would get regularly hurt whenever they went out skating, but even if Harry had never been a good skater, he had never fallen once with Grandfather by his side.

“It must be nearly ten years since I last saw him,” Charlie adds disbelievingly. “Eight years, I believe.  Yes, since I joined the military. It will be good to see him again.”

Harry turns to his brother in confusion. “Again? Are you going to Hampstead?”

“Yes. All of us shall be visiting for Christmas,” Charlie reveals with a grin.

Harry grips his arm suddenly, a bit roughly perhaps, but Charlie only laughs. “What? When was this decided?”

“I told Father that I would need to leave for a few days next week,” Charlie says in a more serious tone. “I was going to perhaps find a room in Hatfield, but he suggested I go to Hampstead. I have done so in the past, after I came of age, if you recall.”

Harry nods, looking away in embarrassment. When they were younger, Bill and Charlie both would visit their grandfather whenever the time for their rut was near. Harry has always felt a certain guilt over this, especially now that he knows how much easier it is to be at home during such a trying time. But they would both rather leave The Burrow than have Harry being sent away, even for a few days. Besides, Grandfather Prewett is himself an Alpha, and he was always in the best position to provide a comfortable environment for them.

“And so, I wrote to Grandfather, and he was the one who suggested everyone should follow suit after me. I shall be leaving on Monday, and Mother, Father and you should join us the week after. Everyone will come for Christmas as well. Uncle Fabian and Aunt Mable, with Catherine and Caroline. And Ron and Ginny. And Percy, Fred and George will certainly come as well. I believe even Robert will come with his wife and the children. Are you happy?” Charlie asks, quite unnecessarily, because surely it is obvious from Harry’s wide eyes and grin that he is ecstatic. “We shall have a big family Christmas, just like when we were little.”

“I am happy,” Harry can only mumble, holding Charlie’s arm tightly still and pressing his cheek against his brother’s shoulder. “It will be just like before. As if nothing had changed.”

Harry is nearly certain that his brother smiles sadly at this, but Charlie does not reply as they continue walking, the soggy ground squelching under their feet.

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 8

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 8 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 8/? SUMMARY: With the Doctor newly regenerated, he and Elise must now navigate their new relationship. The Doctor is an old man and Elise is a headstrong young woman. She is no longer the scared little girl the Doctor saved all those years ago. Will Clara be able to keep them from killing each other?

“Take a punt,” the Doctor told Clara. He was doing some sort of math on one of his chalkboards while Clara sat down near the console.

“Right,” Clara said.

“Your choice. Wherever, whenever, anywhere in time and space.”

“Well, there is something, someone that I've always wanted to meet. But I know what you'll say.”

“Try me.”

“You'll say he's made up, that there is no such thing.”

“Go on.”

“It's…it's Robin Hood.”

“Robin Hood.”

Clara walked up the steps towards the Doctor. “Yeah. I love that story. I've always loved it, ever since I was little.”

“Robin Hood, the heroic outlaw, who robs from the rich and gives to the poor.”

“Yeah.”

“He's made up. There's no such thing.”

“Ah, you see?”

The Doctor pulled a book off his bookcase. “Old-fashioned heroes only exist in old-fashioned story books, Clara.” He thumbed through a few of the pages before setting the book back in its place.

“And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You stop bad things happening every minute of every day. That sounds pretty heroic to me.”

“Just passing the time. Hey, what about Mars?”

“What?!”

“The Ice Warrior Hives.”

“After what happened on that submarine? I don’t think so,” Elise told him. She wanted to forget that adventure. She still had nightmares.

“You said it was my choice,” Clara argued.

“Or the Tumescent Arrows of the Half-Light. Those girls can hold their drink,” the Doctor rambled.

“Doctor.”

“And fracture fifteen different levels of reality simultaneously. I think I've got a Polaroid somewhere.” The Doctor came down the stairs towards the console with Clara following him.

“Doctor! My choice. Robin Hood. Show me.”

“Very well.” He put in coordinates and set the TARDIS in flight. “Earth. England. Sherwood Forest. 1190AD. Ish. But you'll only be disappointed.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You can’t wear a black dress! You’re not going to a funeral!” Clara told Elise. Clara wanted to look the part and dragged Elise along with her. Clara looked through the dresses and pulled out a green one.

“It’s perfect! It’ll go great with your hair.” She shoved the dress into Elise’s arms. “Well go on, get dressed.”

Elise changed into the medieval style dress. It felt wrong not to be in her leather jacket and boots, but she had to admit that she looked rather good.

“Might have to cover that though,” Clara said pointing at the roses winding down Elise’s neck. She’d still yet to understand why she had the tattoo in the first place.

Clara managed to cover it up with some heavy concealer.

The two women stepped out of the TARDIS.

“Might be a little bit much, but what do you reckon, Doctor?” Clara asked. She stopped when she saw him. Robin Hood.

“By all the saints. Are there any more in there?” Robin Hood asked.

The Doctor noticed how Robin’s eyes lingered on Elise and he moved slightly in front of her.

Clara patted the Doctor’s chest in disbelief. “Is that…?” Clara asked.

“No,” the Doctor told her.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God! It is, isn't it? You found him. You actually found Robin Hood.”

“That is not Robin Hood.”

“Well then, who, sir, is about to relieve you of your magic box?” Robin asked, pulling out his long sword.

Elise nearly rushed forward, but the Doctor pushed her back. He stepped onto the bridge, facing Robin. “Nobody, sir. Not in this universe or the next.”

“Well then, draw your sword and prove your words.”

“I have no sword. I don't need a sword.” The Doctor opened his coat and twirled around to show Robin. “Because I am the Doctor.” Instead, he donned a gauntlet and pulled out a spoon. “And this is my spoon. En garde!”

They started sparring and Clara and Elise watched on in excitement.

The Doctor got the upper hand and hit Robin on the back of the neck with his spoon.

“You're amazing,” Clara praised the Doctor.

Even Elise had to admit the Doctor was rather dashing.

“I've had some experience. Richard the Lionheart. Cyrano de Bergerac. Errol Flynn. He had the most enormous…”

Clara cleared her throat, cutting off the inappropriate comment.

“…Ego.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Robin lunged forward and sliced a button off the Doctor’s coat. The Doctor held his arms out and Robin got ready to strike the killing blow. The Doctor dodged this attack and spun around so he and Robin were back to back. He bumped Robin and Robin fell into the river below.

“Doctor!” Clara said, rushing to his side.

The Doctor polished his spoon on his coat. “Like I said. My box.”

“Doctor?”

Robin was nowhere to be seen in the water below. He popped up behind the Doctor and pushed him into the water.

Clara and Robin laughed.

Elise rolled her eyes and waded into the water. She helped the Doctor up and asked, “Are you okay?”

“More of a bruised ego than anything.”

“I’ll fix your coat later.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Robin led them to a small encampment. “Let me introduce you to my men. This is Will Scarlet. He is a cheeky rogue with a good sword arm and a slippery tongue.”

“My ladies…”

Clara giggled and looked at Elise, who had no reaction.

To this day, the only man to ever make Elise blush was the man in the café after they met Clara the second time.

The Doctor pulled out some of his hair as he bowed and scanned it with his sonic screwdriver.

Will cried out and grabbed at his head. “What do you want with my hair?”

“Well, it's realistic, I'll give you that,” the Doctor told him.

“And this is Friar Tuck. Aptly named for the amount of grub he tucks into,” Robin introduced.

“You skinny blaggard.”

The men around them laughed.

Friar Tuck stepped forward and nearly fell.

The Doctor was on the ground behind him.

“What are you doing?” Tuck asked him.

The Doctor stood up, holding one of his sandals. “This isn't a real sandal.”

“Yes, it is.”

The Doctor sniffed the sandal. “Oh. Yes, it is.”

Robin turned to introduce another one of his men. “This, er, is Alan-a-Dale. He's a master of the lute, whose music brightens up these dark days.”

“Stranger you are welcome here, in Sherwood's bonny glade,” Alan sang. He suddenly cried out as the Doctor stuck him with a needle.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. Blood analysis. Oh. All those diseases. If you were real, you'd be dead in six months,” the Doctor told him.

“I am real,” Alan insisted.

“Bye.”

The last of Robin’s men was huge.

“And this is John Little. Called Little John. He's my loyal companion in many an adventure.”

The large man stepped aside and a smaller man jumped out at them. The men laughed.

“Works every time,” Will said.

“Oh, I cannot believe this. You, you really are Robin Hood and his Merry Men!” Clara giggled.

“Aye! That is an apt description. What say you, lads?” Robin asked.

His men laughed in response. “Stop laughing. Why are you always doing that? Are you all simple or something?”

Elise was beginning to become annoyed as well, while Clara looked to be enjoying herself.

The Doctor picked up a goblet and poured out the liquid before walking up to Robin. “I’m going to need a sample.”

“Of what?” Robin asked.

Clara quickly pulled the Doctor away from them. “What are you doing?”

“Well, they're not holograms, that much is obvious. Could be a theme park from the future. Or we might be inside a miniscope,” the Doctor told her.

“Oh, shut up.”

“A miniscope. Yes, of course. Why not?”

The Doctor ran over to the encampment, leaving Clara and Elise.

Robin walked to them. “Your friend seems not quite of the real world,” Robin observed.

“No. No, he's not really. Not most of the time.” Clara looked at Robin. “Dark days?”

“My lady?”

“You said that these were dark days. What did you mean?”

“King Richard is away on crusade, my lady. His tyrant of a brother rules instead,” Will explained.

“And the Sheriff. Cos there is a sheriff, right?”

“Aye. It is indeed this jackal of the princes who seeks to oppress us forever more,” Alan said.

“Or six months in your case,” the Doctor quipped.

Robin spoke in a soft voice. “It is a shame to dwell on murky thoughts when there is such beauty here,” Robin said.

Elise felt like she was intruding, so she simply squeezed Clara’s hand and joined her father instead. She glanced back at Clara and Robin talking softly with each other and she felt a pang in her hearts.

The Doctor saw the look on Elise’s face and walked over to Robin. “What time is it, Mister Hood?”

“Somewhat after noon.”

“No, no. Time of year? What season?”

“Oh, Dame Autumn has draped her mellow skirts about the forest, Doctor. The time of mists and harvest approaches.”

Elise frowned. That didn’t seem right.

“Yeah, yeah. All very poetic. But it's very green hereabouts, though, isn't it? Like I said, very sunny.”

“So?” Clara asked.

“Have you been to Nottingham?”

“Climate change?”

“It's 1190.”

“You must excuse me. The Sheriff has issued a proclamation and tomorrow there is to be a contest to find the best archer in the land. And the bounty, it's an arrow made of pure gold,” Robin said.

“No! Don't, don't go. It's a trap,” Clara begged him.

“Well, of course it is! But a contest to find the best archer in the land? There is no contest.”

The men laughed.

“Right, that isn't even funny. That was bantering. I am totally against bantering,” the Doctor snapped.

“How can you be so sure he is not the real thing?” Clara asked.

“Because he can't be.”

“When did you stop believing in everything?”

“When did you start believing in impossible heroes?”

“Don't you know? In a way, it's rather sweet.” Clara joined Robin and his men, while Elise stood next to him.

He looked into her green eyes and saw…was it hope? He was going to show her he could be the Doctor again. That he could be the heroic man she knew him to be.

[goeatsomelife]

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Warnings: mentions of bullying, some swearing

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Reader

Summary: Sometimes we don’t see the ones, who love us more than anything. Were Luke observes the one who he loves unnoticed, without knowing that some unpleasant events will lead to the most memorable autumn of his school years. 1400 words

Author’s Note: The ending may seem confusing, but I want to give you some space to fantasize about how you want events to develop in the future. Also, English isn’t my mother language, so sorry for mistakes!

“F**king wallflower!” you heard annoyed voices echoing up and down now full of student’s classroom, interwoven with loud laughs and comments about the upcoming class. Lazily you looked up, trying to find the source of profanity in the crowd with your gaze, unless you caught yet similar but still not pleasant scene. Matt and Ashton, who never pass by an opportunity to offend ones who are weaker, were towering over a boy. His name is Luke, Luke Hemmings, he was always in the back, and you didn’t know why. His sunny curls were framing his handsome face, focused on now closed notebook. His ocean eyes were watery all the time, that made him so vulnerable, yet true and beautiful. It seems like only you saw his wonderful face features, so you didn’t miss an opportunity to observe him. You always believed he has a kind soul because he never willed to hurt anyone.

“Show everyone what’s in your notebook,” one of the boys said, trying to snatch the notebook from Luke’s arms, but he was holding it tightly.

“Yeah, let everyone see what you’re doing in the back,” another boy picked up. Once you’re tried to say something they pulled down so hard that all of the papers from the notebook just flew everywhere. Ashton came closer to one of the papers with wide eyes.

“Someone’s drooling all over you, Y/L/N,” he said, sternly looking at you with a smirk. Pink color covered the skin on your face when you quickly snatched a picture of you painted with a pencil and hurriedly hide it under your own notebooks. You were still blushing from events that happened minutes ago, praying that no one understood what actually happened or saw a picture, as a math teacher finally appeared in the doorframe.

Every time you touched paper under your notebook it made your heart race as if it was a bomb. You didn’t dare to look behind at Luke, but you felt his stare on your back. The teacher asked to open notebooks, so you get it as a chance to finally look at the picture unnoticed. A blush crept higher onto the ears when you saw a portrait of a girl who looked just like you. It looks like he painted it with a pencil in one of the classes. The lines were not perfect, but it was a decent painting…like he was sketching you. Finally, you get courage to look behind, to see his face, and his gaze was already diverted to you. When your eyes met his he quickly glanced in his book, pretending to read the paragraph. You didn’t stay longer in this position when the bell rang loudly and everyone started packing their stuff.

When you were putting your books and notebooks in the backpack suddenly pencil fell out of your hands. That’s when you saw your hands shaking. Painting where still on your desk. You looked around the room, but there was no sight of Luke. You must return the picture to him, but it will be so awkward. “Hey Luke, you know, I found a piece of paper, but I didn’t say anything. Bye,” It made you nervous. Yeah, it’s dumb.

You were nervous as hell, observing every detail of your picture and trying to calm down. Why he was painting you? You never caught his gaze, he never speaks to anyone, despite the times when he was fighting back bullies. If you can change the world…

And you will. You clenched your fists as hard as you can to somehow calm yourself down and get enough courage to go outside. It was autumn, golden leaves covered the floor, cold wind made your skin shiver because of the sudden change of climate. Someone was burning leaves or it was the natural smell of autumn?

Walking around campus you finally found a secluded place under a tree, were situated an old bench. It was the last place you decided to check before you will give up. There was Luke, wind in his hair. He was calmly reading a book. As you approached slowly he closed his book, not raising his head to look at you. You were standing near the bench, trying to come up with words, instead, you extended a hand with painting in it. He looked at it emotionless, then diverted his gaze on his phone.

“You have a talent, Luke,” he suddenly raised his head looking into your eyes with some kind of pity. He quickly snatched a piece of paper from your hand, packed his book into the backpack, and get away from you. When the shock of his rude demeanor wore off you sat on the bench and deeply inhaled fresh autumn air. It was perfect, so from now on, you were hiding at this place from crowds of students in the hallways. You couldn’t get mad at him. Maybe you will react the same way if something like that happened to you.

One day when you were enjoying your lunch on the same spot tall figure appeared in front of you.

“Can you please, go away?” He said, as always, emotionless. He doesn’t even get angry? Interesting.

“It’s my place,” He said again, realizing that I’m not even flinched on his statement.

“Didn’t see labels anywhere” Everything he left to do was just sit there with you. He opened his notebook, but suddenly the wind blew again and all of the paper flew around you. You couldn’t hold a laugh. He jumped from the bench, kneeled, and started to gather every piece of paper, like a puppy trying to catch a ball. There were paintings of trees, flowers, and different people. Stopping to laugh, you took a painting of you that he lost in the class previously and carefully put it inside his backpack. Looking back at Luke, who frantically running around like the kid and trying to catch flying paper, you’ve got up and helped him to find all of the pieces. You took your backpack and get inside the building, leaving Luke amused, but with all of his work safely inside his backpack.

Weeks later you were eating your lunch in canteen because it was too cold outside, flipping pages of the book until you set your eyes on another painting. It was laying on the page of your book. How you didn't notice it earlier? Your eyes went wide when you realized - it was painting of you sitting on that same bench, that Luke assumed as his secret spot. On painting you were casually eating an apple and looking somewhere else, enjoying autumn nature. Now the painting was colorful, apple bright red, your face with a pink blush, background splashed with yellow, orange, and brown colors. Raising your eyes from the piece of paper you found Luke, who was now heading towards the exit. Quickly you managed to catch up.

"Hey," you said panting, tightly holding another painting.

"I assume it's yours," he stopped looking deep in your eyes, don’t even notice the piece of paper in your extended hand.

"No, it’s probably yours," he said slightly chuckling and starting to walk again.

"Wait, what's this all about?" You asked amused by his reaction. Now you don’t understand anything! He didn't answer, strolling through the corridor.

"Keep it," he spoke suddenly, stopping again.

"Let it remind you about autumn...and me," last part he said so quiet and muffled, but you still heard it clear. A flattering feeling appeared in your stomach and made you stuck in one place. He started to walk again. His tall figure was framed by the sun, that was shining through the exit door. He turned his head to look at you and smiled seeing your shock, but still going into the light.

Will you catch up with him and say that it was the best thing that happened to you in this school? That no one ever painted and showed affection to you with such tenderness and affection! Yes, this is the perks of being a wallflower - observing the ones who you adore, watching every detail, and sucking in the beauty of nature unnoticed. Seeing their true side, patiently finding ways to get their heart. Sometimes we don’t see the ones, who love us more than anything. This is one of the best kinds of affection, that made this autumn the most memorable season of the year.

[itsmoonphobic]

𝕭𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖑𝖉 ᯽

✞︎𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒅- The piece of ground on which a battle is or was fought,a place or situation of strife and conflict. ⚔

𝐀𝐦 𝐈 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 @netherbricknick 's 𝐓𝐓𝐒𝐌 𝐚𝐮?𝐘𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐚𝐦. 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐡𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮�� 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 & 𝐓𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨! 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧!𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐚' 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤!! <3 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 ☺︎︎

Summer slowly came to an end and the hot,sticky air outside cooled down to a soothing,chilly breeze.The once green and vibrant colored leaves and moss covered branches dropped their shades to orange and brown ones. Autumn was around the corner and the kingdom's residents bunkered themselves in their houses.Food supplies and herbs to heal their coughing and headaches were stacked in chests and shleves.Marchers and Travelers had a hard time with their jobs.The streets and woodland paths were drowning in piles of leaves so it was hard to drive their carriages through them.

Puffy and dark clouds filled the sky to the brim.Storms could be predicted by the thunder and rain easily getting heavier and more threatening with each passing day.Fall was a hard time for the kingdom, the real threat was indeed their famous frozen winters but autumn was like winters younger,annoying sibling.Making the lives of the inhabitants stressfull and complicated by it's annoying tactics.Then we had the people who actually saw beauty and patience in the hard to deal with season.The type of people who would go outside and jump in mountains of leaves,searching the ground for chestnuts and hazelnuts, admiring the season that represented a painted canvas brought to life by an artist's fantasy.

One of those people was Tommy.The blond haired boy loved nothing more than when the time for autumn arrives.When the world drops into a new color palette.Sure summer and spring was fun,the weather was sunny and warm and most of the creatures came out during those seasons and flowers began to bloom and show their hidden beauty to the world but that was nothing compared to the most gorgeous season Tommy knew.Fall had a special place in the blue eyed boy's heart.He had so many cherishing memories connected to it,so many things he remembers doing with Tubbo and...their parents.

Tommy's icey orbs pooled up with tears as he lazily sat behind his window.His damp breath left behind a trace of fog on the fragile glass,that's how near Tommy's face was. He kept a perplexed gaze,a frown making it's way onto his thin lips that were trembling,not becouse of the cold.His eyes scanned the forest surrounding their village.He would catch a few squirrels and foxes running around the surface. The memory of his parents always hits Tommy hard,Tubbo seemed unaffected by the mention of anything regarding their parents but Tommy reacts in a different way.

The younger twin needed a distraction to get his thoughts away from their deceased caretakers.At times like this Tommy sneaks out,either slyly passing Tubbo by the front door to walk out like a normal person or he climbs out of his window like a monkey.Tommy snickered to himself as he brought back the one time he fell down instead of landing on his feet,he was pretty sure that if someone asked him to show them the big bruise on his right hip he could still present it.Tommy propped himself up on his elbows and hands,throwing one last longing look out the window towards the entrance of the graveyeard and with that he walked out of his and Tubbo's shared bedroom.

As Tommy walked down the corridor towards the kitchen located on the first floor of the house his ears picked up a conversation between Tubbo and by the looks of it either Wilbur or Phil since Fundy wasn't here today.The brown haired babysitter had his own shop he had to take care of and his own responsibilities.Tubbo made sure that Fundy had nothing to worry about and that he and Tommy are capable of surviving on their own.Tommy descended down the stairs and carefully opened the doors to the kitchen, making sure not to jumpscare his easily scared brother.

"Is this too much flour or should I a-Oh!Hey Tommy!" Tubbo stopped midsentence a wide grin on his face as he held a bag of all purpose flour in his hands.His face along with his green apron were dusted with all sorts of baking materials. The blonde chuckled,shaking his head at how dumb Tubbo looked right now. "What in the hell are you doing Toby?" Tommy questioned his messy twin.Tubbo rolled his eyes,placing the flour on the counter and dusting his apron off with his palms.Tommy watched as the white powder particles flew around the room and then seemingly disappeared into thin air. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Tubbo threw him a snarky question back.Tommy shrugged. "I'm trying to bake a pie dummy,it's a recipe Phil told me!"

Tubbo pointed to the spot behind him.Tommy followed his finger and kindly smiled at the caring presence in the room with them.He waved his hand and let out a "Hey Phil!" The ghost seemed to be in a good mood today,Tommy instantly felt the happy and pleasant emotions.He didn't taste salt water though so Wilbur wasn't around sadly,he wanted to greet his other ghost friend aswell but looks like he'll have to carry out that wish another time.For now Tommy needed to clear his mind and relax a bit.A distressed and worried feeling reached Tommy as he gently laughed: "Don't worry Phil,I'm just going out for a stroll through the woods.I won't get lost this time!"

Tubbo looked at Tommy with suprise and unexpectance. His brother didn't mention anything about going into the forest.Naturally Tubbo immediately tried to prevent him from going all by himself and that he should maybe take Phil with him or look for Wilbur but Tommy shook his head at the idea of tagging along with somebody by his side.He had to be alone right now,not becouse he didn't like spending time with the ghosts,he loved it actually,but his thoughts were racing a hundred miles per hour and he had to sort them out by himself.

❥︎ ¤ ❥︎ ¤ ❥︎ ¤ ❥︎

"Please be careful Tommy,Phil says so aswell." Tommy stood at the door,his pale hand held it open for him.Tubbo gave him a considerate smile and threw his arms around his younger twin brother.Tommy was a little cought of guard but he directly hugged him back,squeezing him tightly. After what felt like hours to Tommy but only a split second to Tubbo,the hazel haired boy released his brother and waved his hand back at him as he slowly approached the deep rooting forest.Tubbo only closed the door after him once Tommy was out of his sight.The older twin looked at Phil with caring eyes:"Do you think he'll be okay Phil?"

"𝐻𝑒'𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑇𝑜𝑏𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑇𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑦,ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑒'𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑏𝑦 ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓."

Tubbo nodded his head at the kind worded answer he received from his ghost friend.He adverted his eyes from the translucent man towards the window where he stared at the spot Tommy walked through a few seconds ago.

"Yeah you're right." A smile tugged at Phil's cold lips as he watched the young boy infront of him go back to grabbing the flour he placed on the kitchen counter and continue preparing the pumpkin pie. 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟.

❥︎ ¤ ❥︎ ¤ ❥︎ ¤ ❥︎

Tommy's walk wasn't too fast and not too slow.A steady pace of walking forwards aimlessly is what you could possibly describe it as.The blue eyed boy didn't have a location he prepared to visit before taking off,he let his feet take him wherever they felt like going in that moment.His mind was coming to a rest as the cool autumn air filled his lungs and Tommy released it back where it came from.He played around with the smoke forming from his breaths. This absolute silence and calming atmosphere was something the stubborn blonde craved.He closed his eyes, taking a deep,long breath to cleanse his senses,opening them again after letting out said breath.

Between all the orange and red shades of leaves,you could spot yellow and slight purple ones if you look close enough. Tommy was always the kind of person to pay good attention to small details and mistakes which tends to piss people off sometimes,but that didn't bother him in the slightest.You could say the meanest shit towards Tommy but he would simply brush it off and insult you ten times more hard and offensively than you did.He held many traits that others around him found difficult to process and understand but Tommy can't help the way his personality came to be over the years of growing up.And now even at the age of fourteen he still hasn't fully built up his perspective of looking at life in a certaint way.

Tommy came to a sudden halt.There infront of him was a open meadow which seemed to contain the ruins of an old battlefield of some sort.Stone structures such as watchtowers and canons of rusty iron were scattered around the grass.This place must have been quite the mass slaughter and destruction disaster.Tommy wondered how many people faught for their lives,how many of them made it out alive?How many fathers gave the promise to return back home to their families but failed to keep it?What was the reason behind this destroyed crime scene?What rules were broken to cause this massacre?The questions in Tommy's mind began to pile up and grow the more he dug around through the abandoned ruins.

Old pieces of armor and small weapons like broken arrows and daggers layed motionless on the ground.Nothing in particular stood out to Tommy but he did take a few old golden coins to sell them down town.The blue eyed boy decided to start his way back home since it was getting dark soon and he doesn't wanna repeat old mistakes.It only seems like it happend yesterday when Tubbo and he got lost and met Phil for the first time,even though it was more than five years since that happened.Tommy snickered as he played the scene back in his head.

And right before Tommy walked away from the gruesome scene a bright piece of metal reflected itself in his eye.The silver metal was hidded under a heavy looking rock.Tommy made his way towards the shimmering material and pushed the rock away from it after finding an easy spot where to grab it and drag it off of it.The mysterious metal turned out to be a sharp and silver blade of an old sword.Tommy's eyes widened as he admired the beautiful but deadly weapon. This thing must have taken out so many people and destroyed their lives but it still looked so taken care of and newly hardened.There was a wierd writing engraved at the bottom of the sword holder.A cursive "𝑇.𝐵" was carved in it.

Tommy squinted with his eyes, T.B? He could only ask himself what that stands for.Maybe the first letters of the name who once held this sword in their hands and fought with it for their life against everyone else?Maybe it had a secret meaning or message hidden in it?Who knows. Tommy surely didn't but he did know that he is definitely taking the cool looking weapon with him before someone else discoveres it and uses it for something dumb.

The moment his fingers grazed along the sharp blade,the taste of copper and iron filled his mouth.A stinging scent of blood and discomfort danced over his tounge.Tommy's face scrunched up in disgust as he smacked his lips to make the awful taste go away faster but it wouldn't budge. It only seemed to get worse and stronger the more he fought against it.Giving up on getting rid of the revolting taste that made him want to throw up right then and there Tommy quicky snatched the sword and swiftly ran back the way he came from.Little did he know that he wasn't going home alone and that someone is interested in getting something back from Tommy that belongs to them.

❥︎ ¤ ❥︎ ¤ ❥︎ ¤ ❥︎

Tubbo had just finished placing his homemade pumpkin pie in the preheated furnace.It wasn't even finshed yet but it already looked appetizing enough for Toby.Phil left a while ago leaving the brown haired boy by himself to clean the kitchen,even if Phil did want to help there isn't a big chance of that happening,pretty self explanatory.Tubbo was lightly humming to himself while washing off all the batter from his wooden bowl.He made sure none of it went to waste by picking up the smaller droplets of the beige substance and licking it off his fingers.A smile fell apon his lips as he hummed in delight at the sugary taste of the pie's dough. He was still waiting for Tommy to come back,but made sure to keep his nerves and heart in check so they don't break loose and make him go crazy in worry.

The smell of delicious,crispy pie filling spread around inside the kitchen of the two brothers.After twenty minutes of spending it's time in the burning cole filled furnace Toby equipped himself with his red mittens and delivered the hot metal ring the pie was placed in to the windowsill.He has to admit for a baked good he created by himself and only the slight help of his ingredient list aka.Phil,Toby was more than proud of his baking skills.He would have to repeat this another time with both Phil and Wilbur on his side!Maybe Tommy could join them aswell,but that would probably lead to Tommy setting the whole house on fire along with everyone inside.Tubbo cringed at the though,reconsidering the idea of letting his chaotic brother help him bake.

The front door opened and a exhausted,out of breath Tommy came storming in through it.To his suprise the wooden surface didn't shatter or break even though he slammed it shut pretty hard for his liking.Tommy still held onto the sharp sword in his palms,the blade carefully layed against his chest,making sure he doesn't slice up any skin in the process of keeping it in his grasp.Tommy gently placed it aside,while he kneeled down and began untying his muddy boots.The taste of blood didn't leave his mouth. Once he untied his boots and stored them in the compartment for his and Tubbo's shoes,Tommy tenderly took hold of his precious new found sword he planed on treasuring forever.A huge grin spread across his facial features,making his tiny dimples stand out.

He couldn't wait to show Tubbo his new weapon he found. Ignoring the horrible distaste swimming in his mouth, Tommy snuck over from the main entrance hallway to the kitchen and quietly turned the door handle.Much to his supris,Tubbo seemed completely distracted as he focused on removing the metal baking ring around his freshly baked pie.Tommy could use a piece of it right now,anything to get rid of the taste of blood flowing down his tounge.Shaking aside his unnecessary thoughts,Tommy crept up behind his brother and slowly poked his right shoulder.And just as expected Tubbo squealed,jumping up in fear and nearly letting his masterpiece of a pie fall down with him.

Tommy laughed,clutching his stomach watching his twin calm himself down and make sure his pie is still together like it should be and not broken in small pieces.Tubbo was about to angrily yell at Tommy for being so mean and scaring him even though he reminded him countless times to never,ever to that to him but the sight of something,or someone even scarier next to the laughing blonde made Tubbo scream in terror.He could tell it was a ghost and he didn't look like a happy one either.Tommy abruptly stopped laughing once he heard his brother scream bloody murder. "I know,I know 'don't ever,ever scare me again!' relax Tobes this is the last time I'll scare you." The pale blue eyed boy reassured his brother.

"Check out this sick sword I got!Isn't it cool?I found it while walking through the woods,was under some old rock on some sort of battlefield." Tommy presented Tubbo the sword,his brother could see the blue orbs lighten up with excitement and pride as he rambled on and on about how sick his new sword looked. "Ehm Tommy?" Tubbo asked Tommy who wouldn't stop admiring the blade in his hands. The blond boy looked up from his sword letting out a small and confused "huh?". "Your sword sure does look cool and everything but,who's your new ghost friend?He eh,he seems nice?" Tubbo questioned his younger twin expecting Tommy to be aware of the pig masked ghost following him.

Tommy being Tommy looked at Tubbo bewildered. "The hell are you talking about?I didn't feel any presence or wierd emotions?" Tubbo was surprised,he continued to look at the scary looking ghost who was staring back at him,he seemed suprised aswell by the fact that Tubbo could see him and even describe what he was wearing. "I don't know why you didn't feel his presence but he's definitely standing next to you." Tubbo pointed out "Does he mind answering some questions?" Tommy looked at Tubbo with curious eyes as the hazel haired boy hesitantly began talking to the stranger spirit:"Do you mind ans- Okay then he can definitely hear both of us." Tubbo smiled turning to Tommy who still tried to get rid of the metalic taste dragging itself out in his mouth.

"What's his name?"

"His name is Techno,and that sword you were bragging about a few minutes ago is his and he's very angry that you took it from him."

.....

"Does he want it back though?"

"Yes he does,he says the sooner you return his sword where you found it the sooner he will leave us alone."

......

"What if I don't return it?What would happen then?"

"He will haunt us until you decide to retrieve it to him."

......

"Why couldn't I feel his presence even though he stalked me back home for over half an hour?"

"Eh,do you taste blood in your mouth Tommy?"

"How did yo-?Yeah I do actually.How did he know?"

"Apparently,and I quote: That's the way you can tell he's around so if you were smart enough to figure that out by yourself you wouldn't be so suprised that he's in our house right at this moment."

......

"Okay 'mr.smartass" how in the hell was I supposed to know that?Go ahead,explain asshole."

"He says that if you owned a decent working brain you should have realized it sooner."

"Now he's calling me stupid?Yeah he can forget about his sword,I'm keeping it.Hell he can haunt us as much as his little ghost heart desires,see if I care dipshit."

Tubbo tried really hard to contain his laughter that was building up in his stomach but at some point he failed and broke out in a fit.The way Tommy and this new ghost,that told them goes by the name of Techno,were already bickering back and forth between eachother was so funny to Tubbo in a way nobody could understand.He could have figured that his brother wouldn't give up on the sword so easily but apparently Techno was just as bad since the crow wearing ghost didn't give up on it either.

"You two need to calm down.Techno would you like to hang around?We have two more ghosts keeping us company and we own a music shop!"Tubbo enthusiastically opened up to Techno and asked him to stay which Techno seemed to be taken aback by since normally people are scared and weirded out by such things as ghosts,not to mention most people normally didn't posses the ability to actually see them in any sort of way.But the fact that Tubbo seemed to communicate and see Techno made the ghost tilt his head in interest and curiosity.He found a liking to Tubbo but this Tommy kid on the other hand was a pain in the ass.First he steals his sword without any consent,then he calls him an asshole,a dipshit and a smartass to add to the list.He was gonna make sure that sword gets back where it came from.

"Hell no!Forget it,nu uh there is no way I am letting this smartass spend time here with us,especially not at the music shop with Wilbur and Phil!" Tommy argued,trying to stop Tubbo from making a mistake and letting this asshole of a ghost stay with them.Tubbo giggled,placing his hands on his hips:"C'mon Tommy!Loosen up a little,he isn't that bad!Right now he complimented my pie!I say he should hang around!" Tommy was about the throw another argument against his staying but the glare Tubbo send him his way stopped him from doing so.Tubbo can get really scary if he chose to do so in certaint situations.

"Now that that's settled!You want some freshly baked pie?" Tubbo twirled around,holding out his pie proudly infront of him.Tommy's smile was genuine as he placed the sword aside and completely forget about the copper taste in his mouth and the spirit standing next to him.He pulled out a chair neatly located under the table,making sure he doesn't scratch the floor while doing so.His mouth was watering and drool began to form as he watched Tubbo place a plate of pumpkin pie infront of him.The pale blue eyed thanked him as Tubbo got a piece for himself and sat down across from Tommy on the table.

The rest of the night was spent with eating,joking and storytelling by the campfire as the pig masked ghost silently watched the two brothers interact happily :)

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕰𝖓𝖉 ♔︎

𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬!𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚n𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞!𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬!𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝,𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 @netherbricknick 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐮!

[hypmic-writings]

━━ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ━━

Day 3/21 - Riou Busujima

Pairing: ghost!Riou xreader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 595

Quote/AU: Ghosts

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You took a deep breath of the fresh autumn air as you walked beside Riou dawn the sidewalk. The leaves had steadily been changing colors and as you tugged your jacket tighter around you, you subconsciously reached for Riou’s hand.

Unfortunately, your hand fell through it like it was air.

“Oh, sorry,” you smiled, apologizing as you looked up at him. “Did you feel that?” you asked, curiously. Riou looked down at his hand and clasped it together with his other hand, as if ensuring that it was still there.

“Yes, but only a little bit. It kind of tickled actually,” he stated with a straight face. This made your smile grow a bit wider.

“Don’t worry, once we’re back home I’ll be sure to hold it properly,” you promised him. He gave you a look of appreciation before focusing back on the task at hand.

Your smile wavered as the two of you entered into the cemetery, and although it was bright and sunny, you felt a shadow of darkness pass through you. This had been Riou’s idea – in fact he had been the one to ask you if you would go with him. He wanted to find his gravestone and see where they had buried his body such a long time ago.

He had died in the house you were currently living in, which meant that he was able to materialize there. You could touch him and hug him and everything seemed perfectly normal.

But the cold realization that nothing would ever be normal struck a chord with you. You could only imagine how Riou must be feeling.

“I think this is the right lot,” you said, walking onto the grass and making your way over to a specific row of headstones. You began to pass your eyes along the different names, not recognizing any of them.

“It’s here,” Riou suddenly stated. His voice was stoic, and as you walked over to him you wished more than anything in the world to hold his hand and give him some sort of reassurance.

“It’s a beautiful headstone,” you commented, looking down at the darkened marble that had cracks, but yet still seemed to shine in the sun. “Look, it says you were a beloved son and brother. Your family must have loved you quite a bit,” you pointed out, giving Riou a soft smile.

“Yes…I suppose so,” Riou whispered in his deep voice. He bent down to ghost his fingers over the headstone.

You noticed that his eyes were shining and it almost made your heart break to see him like that. Instinctively you reached out for him, but stopped yourself short once more. This was the closure that he needed and you wanted to give it to him.

The two of you stood in silence for a while, each deep in thought until Riou stood and turned to look at you.

“Thank you for coming with me, Y/N,” he stated, managing a small, sad, smile. “It means more than you will ever know.”

You felt tears of your own begin to spike the back of your eyes and your throat was beginning to constrict so you simply nodded and smiled at him with a small ‘of course’.

“Let’s head back home,” he suddenly suggested in a forthcoming manner. “I want to sit with you for a while.”

You started a bit at his suggestion but quickly nodded and smiled in agreement. You were also feeling the need to hold him in your arms and at the current moment – nothing would make you happier.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[spiltscribbles]

Can I request 7, 9 or 78 for pynch? I liked all of those, haha -- uncertainglobalfuture

~Notes: Thank you SO SO much gorgeous<3 This came out way to soft lmfao.  |

A Reblog is worth a thousand stars<3  |  Buy Me A Coffee?

.-

~78. “Just please be my best friend right now, and not the person I confessed my love to~

.-

When Adam’s seven years old his first grade teacher asks him why he never has a lunch. He tells her he forgets to get up early enough to make it. Three weeks after that she asks him where he got that nasty bruise on his left arm. He tells her he had wiped out on his bicycle. Two months after that she keeps him inside for recess and asks him to join her and Principle Jenkins for a little while. Adam didn’t mind, he never could make a friend as easily as the others— too distant and too reserved and too withdrawn for the lot of them.  But then they start asking about Adam’s home life and parents and whether he needs help or not, all rinsing hands topped off by tense smiles that don’t touch their eyes.

Adam stays aloof— doesn’t bother to  panic. He’s been trained by his mother for countless years on how to reply to these sort of probing questions. Has long mastered the owlish blink to his eyes, and diffident smile to his lips. Knows exactly what to do so that they could pretend that there’s nothing out of the ordinary. He knows full and well  that none of them actually want to tackle this conversation, and knows that it’s pointless because he’s a Parrish, this is  all there is. 

This’s  all there ever will be.

He doesn’t tell either of his parents about the meeting, is too afraid of their reactions. Besides he doesn’t see much of a point when only a week later they’re packing up and leaving this small town  in the dust just to settle in another with the same pasted grins and eyes that slide off from truths that are too ugly to confront.

.-

On Adam’s first day of classes in Henrietta elementary  he comes to the conclusion  that not everything is stuck being  the exact same when a boy with cornflower eyes and dark curls pads up to him and tells him that he’s Adam’s assigned buddy.

“What’s a buddy?” Adam asks, pinning him with  a one eyed squint, totally incredulous.

“’S someone who shows you round the classroom and playground.” the other boy  answers with an imperious tilt to his head. “Duh.”

“I Don’t need a buddy,” Adam glares at him. He doesn’t yell because Robert yells and Adam hates it when he yells.

“Who peed in your cereal?” The other boy, Ronan Lynch, asks sourly, indignant hands on his hips.

“I don’t need a buddy,” Adam only reiterates, spindly arms wrapped tight against his chest, his jaw set and stance rigid.

“Fine!” Ronan huffs with an emphatic stomping to his foot for good measure. “Hope you get lost with all the big kids then!”

“Fine!”

Later that afternoon, during free time, a blonde boy Adam doesn’t even recognize  gleefully shoves his gross ball of slime into Adam’s face with an emphatic gusto. Adam only escapes the situation when Ronan storms over towards them to interrupt.

“Get lost Tad.”

“Can’t hog the new kid Ronan!”

“Uh-huh! Mis Sanchez made me his buddy.”

“Oh,” Tad  only pouts, totally put out, before ambling off with his aforementioned  ball of slime.

“Uh, ah thank you.” Adam says, wide eyed as he stares at a still moody looking Ronan.

“Wasn’t to help you! Me and Noah need someone to play trains with us, now c’mon.” 

He pivots around, marching towards the back of the room,  and Adam is only sorta shocked that he actually follows suit.

.-

Adam isn’t sure how, but impossibly— remarkably— Ronan Lynch never quite leaves his orbit for the rest of that year, or any of the ones that follow.

He isn’t sure if they’re friends, has never had a friend before, which might be sorta embarrassing considering he’s in the fourth grade now. But in Adam’s defense no one else really caught his attention, certainly not keeping it for as long as Ronan has somehow done.

If Adam’s forced to think about it, he thinks that they are. 

They sit besides each other for class every day, and Adam isn’t even annoyed when Ronan pulls funny faces his way instead of listening along. Yesterday for kickball Ronan chose Adam first, even before Gansey or Noah, and Adam has only ever liked adventuring outdoors with Ronan, even if it meant scraped knees and dirt on his pants that he shakes off the best he could before going back home to the trailer park. 

But even still, it couldn’t hurt to ask him, right? It’s a simple question that calls for a simple answer. It’s just to double check that Adam’s not just some leach grabbing for anything he can.

Robert hates it when Adam asks questions, tries teaching him to stop being so god damn nosey about everyone’s business. Adam’s never seen it like that. Question yield answers, and answers usually make someone smarter, so without questions the world would just be stumbling around, utterly ignorant to everything. He much prefers how his first grade teacher had called him inquisitive, it makes Adam feel smart, proper, like he isn’t just annoying everyone, more like there’s a purpose to it.

That said, Adam knows that he’s inquisitive as all get out, so he doesn’t even think twice before asking Ronan point blank the following day at recess if they’re friends or not.

Ronan scrunches his nose at him, lips curled morosely.

“Stop being a weirdo and come play four square  with us.”

Adam reasons that’s as much of an affirmation as he’s gonna get, and decides to only shrug before following him  to play along.

.-

The first time Adam goes to Ronan’s house for a school project, it’s a sunny autumn afternoon, and they’re fresh faced sixth graders. It’s the last  year before embarking on the looming threat of junior high— A practice trial of sloppy make out parties and getting buzzed off cheap wine coolers swiped from someone’s parent’s licker cabinet— Gansey’s determined to make it the best year yet, and of course Ronan enthusiastically agrees because he and Gansey are really brothers in all but blood, so of course he’s going to entertain all of Gansey’s grandest of whims. And Noah always loves a good tie.

Adam still thinks it’s miraculous that they’ve adopted him into their little, mismatched brotherhood. That just as often Gansey looks at Ronan for a joke, he glances to Adam to ask a question with a furrow between his brows. And Noah says that Adam’s the only one who could keep up with him on a skateboard, even if his is a pathetic hunk of plastic he had bought for a quarter at a nearby thrift shop. And Ronan— 

Well Ronan’s a different beast entirely. 

He’s loud and abrasive and yells when he’s feeling to passionately and curses like a sailor even before they’ve hit teen hood. On paper he’s the precise sort of boy Adam never wanted to entangle himself with, the sort of boy that might’ve scared him in another universe. In a universe that Ronan wasn’t his assigned buddy on that fateful day, and a universe where Adam didn’t see how he doted on his brother a year behind them in school, and how he always fed the birds outdoors with bread from his lunch, and how he sometimes looks at Adam with such caution and care that it makes him blush.

No, Adam hates the thought of that world, and he refuses to think on it for any longer. 

“C’mon ’s just a bit further of a walk,” Ronan tells Adam with a slight tug on where he’s got a hand encircled around Adam’s smaller wrist. 

The first thing Adam thinks of when he finally sees the mythic Barns is that it’s a castle from a storybook.

It’s all sprawling fields filled with daisies and a large, but cozy looking house that’s got the backdrop of such blue, blue skies behind it. There are even vines that snake up its entrance, a rosebuds that accent the doorway.

The inside is much of the same, a managed mess with coats slung on the sofa and family portraits hanging on the walls, and the scent of fresh baked cookies wafting in the air. 

It’s a home, loving and lived in and ringing out with warmth. 

There’s a pang to Adam’s heart. He’s never felt the chasms that divide his and Ronan’s lives so acutely.

“Love,” a low, melodic voice crows from what must be the kitchen. He recognizes it to belonging to Ronan’s mother, the golden and beautiful Aurora.”Is that you?”

“Yeah Ma!” Ronan shouts back, crass as ever and making it so Adam winces back. “Adam’s here too, we’ve got a biology project to do.”

“Oh how splendid,” Aurora says with genuine mirth as she steps into the living room, splattered in flower and glowing with pure delight.

“Sorry for the intrusion ma’am,” Adam mumbles even though his own mother cuffs him on the back the head every time he does so. 

“Nonsense,” she admonishes with no real heat, just fond exasperation. “Now Adam darling, how does quesadillas sound for dinner?”

Adam pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, feeling his cheeks flush as he averts his gaze. “I won’t stay for dinner ma’am, I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Course you’re staying for dinner dummy.”

“Ronan, language,” Aurora chides, but the reproach sounds more like a formality than anything else. “Adam sweetheart we have more than enough to go around, you’re more than welcome to stay. In fact you’re the only friend of Ronan’s that hasn’t come around for a meal, and I know Niall would love to get to know you along with me.”

Adam feels his cheeks heat even brighter. He knows that she didn’t mean anything by the fact that they have more than enough to go around. It definitely wasn’t intended as any sorta dig, it’s just the way wealthier folks speaks. They’ve never needed to want for anything. Besides, it would be awful of him to stay here and eat their surely amazing food when he knows there’s a three day old meatloaf that his parents would be heating up tonight.

“I should ask my Ma.” Adam says mildly, a sneaky out. He’s sure his parents won’t let him stay past dinner time, and at least this way he won’t inadvertently insult Aurora.

“We’ll make her say yes,” Ronan squawks, indignant at the thought otherwise. Because of course he is, with the parents he got, Ronan probably can’t even fathom eating leftovers or being made to finish all the household chores or being ignored up until either of his parents feel like a good yelling. “Ma, I know he’s skinny but trust me he eats like a freaking maniac. I don’t even know where he stores it!”

“I’ll make so many you boys won’t know what to do with yourselves,” Aurora chortles, and Adam isn’t sure if he imagines the soft, sympathetic look she tosses his way or not, but prefers not to marinate on it. “Adam there’s a phone in the kitchen, you can call your folks from there.”

Shockingly, his mom says that Adam can stay.

“Your dad’s at a poker night, so come back before he does and don’t forget to walk Luanne’s dog tomorrow morning or else the doe’s coming from your pocket.” 

Adam’s so stunned he doesn’t even have it inside of him to remind his mother that he doesn’t have a scent to his name.

The rest of that afternoon is spent roaming Ronan’s truly massive backyard, and playing a game that Matthew’s made up using a kickball, a spoon, and two eggs from the chicken coop. Later on Declan helps them with their diorama, and he and Ronan are allowed to eat in his room while watching an old black and white movie in the small television he keeps atop a shelf cluttered with about a thousand other nicknacks and broken toys. 

And it’s wonderful.

.-

“He’s just such a prick.”

Adam doesn’t have to ask who Ronan’s talking about.

He’s working beneath an old Ford truck in the small auto repair shop that he somehow finessed getting a job inside of even though he’s only fifteen and a sophomore and frankly, always fucking exhausted.

It’s become the norm for Ronan to ditch Gansey and Noah and join Adam in the dingy, rundown garage on his work nights, mostly just to keep him company. Sometimes he’l bring over homework and read the chapter for whichever class they’ve got the next day, and sometimes they just chat and listen to the old rock station playing from the speakers. But tonight’s one of those rare nights when Ronan is well and properly pissed, so he’s just slamming a bouncy ball against the wall over and over again while ranting about Declan, and Declan’s stupid new internship on the hill, and his stupid new girlfriend, (The third fucking Ashley in a row! Can you believe that!) And has now moved to berating Declan’s slicked back hair and clothes and his know-it-all attitude.

“He’s just such a— A—“

“Prick,” Adam says, snarky as all get out as he slides from under the car and moves to dry his hands from the oil that’s leaked onto him. “You’ve said— Like a thousand fucking times.”

Ronan pouts, arms crossed against his chest. “Well I don’t lie Parrish.”

The corner of Adam’s mouth quirks up reluctantly. “But you do pout, quite moodily too.”

“Oh piss off,” he hisses venomously, flipping him the bird for good measure.

Adam only rolls his eyes at his friend’s antics. 

“Is this really because you think Declan’s a prat, or ’s it cause he’s moving out for a whole semester.”

Ronan glares at him with the ferocity of a thousand suns, and a weaker man might’ve shuttered back. But as it is, Adam is not a weaker man, and besides— He’s been on the receiving end of that look, and a thousand other even more menacing ones a countless number of times, it’s part and parcel of being Ronan’s best friend.

“You bite your whore tongue Parrish.”

Adam laughs, appreciates that even when he’s bone weary, Ronan can always do that. Make him feel lighter and dazzling and  smile like they were still kids and things sucked, but they just sucked a little less.

“You’re gonna miss’m.”

“I said shut! it!”

“Ronan loves his older brother, oh this is good! I can’t wait to tell Gans!”

“I will punch your lights out you little runt!”

“Oo, big words from a big man.” Adam waggles his brows, unimpressed. 

“You don’t know the people I know Parrish, I can get you offed with a snap of my finger!” Ronan says, laughter glittering in his pale eyes. The same color of the blue sky that first day Adam visited the Barns.

“Hah,” Adam snorts, finishing up closing shop for the night. “You know me, who’s a workaholic. Gansey, who’s too busy getting off to old dead kings to care about any sorta espionage mission. And Noah, who’s stoned about 98.5% of the time and built like a twig. You’ve got nothing.”

“I feel like I should be affronted on Noah’s behalf,” Ronan notes contemplatively.

“Oy, can you think on this great moral dilemma on the way to the McDonald’s drive through? I just got paid this morning and have been craving their fries from the dollar menu.”

“Oh fine you heathen,” Ronan huffs, acting oh so bereft. “Who gives a shit about my problems when your stomach is obviously much more important.”

Adam tsks as they meander to Niall’s old BMW that Ronan begged to keep, declining to buy a entirely new vehicle like Declan had gotten for his fifteenth.

“Oh and this provisional license means that I can’t have you in, so if any coppers cruise by just duck down like you’re giving me some road head, yeah?”

It’s Adam’s turn to glare at him. “Keep it up and I’ll have to tell Aurora bout your potty mouth you delinquent.”

Ronan’s smile goes sharp at that, like something very lethal and very dangerous. Adam pretends it doesn’t go straight to his gut. 

“Naughty Parrish. And here I was all prepared to save you like a damsel if the coppers actually did stop us.”

Adam scoffs. “Please, that’s not a favor to me, you’re so thirsty to get arrested, it’s pathetic.”

“Well a pretty little thing like you wouldn’t last a day in the slammer,” Ronan goads,  pulling the car into gear.

“You’re an idiot, and a prick.” Adam tells him bluntly.

“Tell me something I don’t know beautiful.”

Adam rolls his eyes so hard that he’s afraid he might’ve sprained something.

“Fine, you’re lip piercing makes you look like a douche.”

“But it’s so bad ass though!”

“Yeah, to like ten year old white boys in the suburbs.”

Ronan clutches his fist to his chest, feigning distress. “Parrish you’ve wounded me, I’m bleeding out! A curse to you and your family! And your family’s cow too!”

“Eyes on the Road maniac.” Adam scolds, trying his damndest not to let his mirth show.

Ronan buys himself half the menu and pays for Adam’s happy meal under the guise that it would be too difficult to have separate orders. But he conspicuously doesn’t ask for the receipt, and Adam tempts down the flicker that wants to fight him on it.

They end up on a cliff overlooking town, devouring their food in a sickeningly short amount of time before lying back on Ronan’s car, staring up at the constellations while the radio plays an acoustic  song about love and slow dancing  and Adam is too busy staring at the infinitesimal space that’s dividing their pinkies on the glass to pay attention to anything else.

“You— Erm, you have nice hands.” More than a bit surprised, Adam flinches back and quirks a brow at him in question. “They’re, erm rough, and you’ve got long fingers,” Ronan explains, his face going bright red and his bottom lip worried between his teeth.

“Is that right?” Adam asks, a slow smile gracing his lips as he gazes over at Ronan’s sharp profile being kissed by starlight.

“It is,” Ronan says, giving one, quick nod and not daring to look over at Adam quite yet. And God, he’s such a mess.

Tentative, Adam links their pinkies together and tilts his head so that he’s resting it on Ronan’s shoulder, hearing it when Ronan lets out the breath he seems to have been holding in for quite a while now.

“Right,” he says in a near whisper. 

“Is this good?” Adam asks, only teasing him slightly.

“This is fucking fantastic Parrish.”

“You know that I—“

“I hoped as much,” Ronan admits, a bit flushed.

“But everything’s just so crazy right now,” Adam continues to explain, focussing on the velvet skyline and the full moon pouring over the pair of them.

“Your folks,” Ronan surmises, his jaw set and his open fist  clenched so tight that his knuckles go white.

“Ro— Just please be my best friend right now, and not the person I confessed my love too. Please.”

“Course Adam, of course,” Ronan says worriedly, hurrying to collect him into his arms. “Whatever you want, whatever you need. I’m here.”

Adam’s entire body goes relaxed, and he puts a gentle hand over Ronan’s heart. “This, this’s all I want.”

The smile Ronan gives him in turn is blinding.

.-

Adam’s mother tells him early on— tipsy and slurring as she puts him to bed after one of Robert’s moods— not to expect much from this world, this life. She tells him not to get his hopes up with the folly of making it big one day. Of leaving the dust and brimstone that molded him in the first place, tells him it’s a wasted effort.

“You’re not better than us Adam,” she says his name like she meant something else entirely. 

She says his name like she means plague, like she means ruin, like she means tragic.   She says his name like she sees all the twinkling possibilities she once dreamt of touching slowly collapse right in front of her, like it was his fault that she’s fettered to a life composed of cold silences and loveless touches and being stuck existing in the underbelly of society. Like it’s his fault the light in her eyes fractured day by day until it shattered permanently. 

“The teachers don’t know what they’re talking bout, think you’re just some quiet, bookish kid.” She continues to bellow, tiny fists knotted in the material of the threadbare blanket he’s wrapped within. Adam feels nauseous at the scent of beer masking her hot breath. “They don’t know how much of a pain in the ass you are! How you just keep revving your father on for the fun of it! How you’re a fucking disappointment.”

Adam apologizes because he thinks that’s his only option. His mother snarls like she can’t stand to look at him for any longer. And nothing changes because nothing ever does. 

But now, sitting in Ronan’s beloved BMW— bloody and battered and barely conscious— Adam thinks he can maybe, finally escape it.

.-

The next time he opens his eyes he’s in an abrasively  white hospital room, and he can’t hear out his left ear, and everything aches. But Ronan’s besides him, and that makes everything bearable.

“I hate them,” is the first thing Ronan says when he realizes Adam’s awake and has already pressed the button for the nurse to come in.

“I’m not going back,” Adam tells him, more convicted than he’s ever felt before.

Ronan squeezes his hand in silent thanks and it’s the first time Adam notices that Ronan’s broken three knuckles from the impact against Robert’s face, and he’s surprised that he’s only worried that Ronan’s hurt himself.

.-

Them falling into their relationship was one of the more natural changes in Adam’s life. He hadn’t realized how gradual, how fated their romance actually was. How it’s been building for nearing on a decade.

How Ronan had always chosen Adam first since childhood— through it all. How Ronan is one of the only people Adam has always trusted implicitly. How jealous Ronan had been freshman year when Adam took Blue to homecoming and how relieved he became when Blue and Gansey began going out later that year.

Adam knows that he and Ronan aren’t some sort of soulmate love story, that they can get on each other’s nerves and have fights and disagreements too. But that makes it just the more real, makes it something solid and tangible and something Adam can’t imagine living without.

But the night his Harvard acceptance letter comes is only three months after Niall’s death after a drunk driver had hit him on the slippery January streets. Ronan’s already decided to stay home after graduation to watch out for his Ma and to keep the farm going.

“I can go somewhere closer by,” Adam tells Ronan that night, tangled in one another and Adam’s  threadbare sheets in St Agnus, his hearing ear against Ronan’s chest and the pair of them shirtless and clinging onto each other like they needed the closeness to breathe.

“Don’t be stupid Parrish,” Ronan says in a excruciatingly soft cadence, one of his fingers tracing small hearts down Adam’s spine. “You’re gonna go off and be brilliant, and I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Promise?” Adam asks lowly, his voice thick with emotion and his own hands beginning to tremble.

“I’d wait for you for forever and a day.” Ronan tells him with such conviction that Adam’s left speechless, only tilts his had upwards so he could capture Ronan’s mouth and snog him nice and thorough.

“God I love you.” And it’s the first time Adam’s said as much with so many words, but he’s not afraid, not anymore.

“I love you too Parrish.”

.-

Buy Me A Coffee?

[jedivszombie]

‘got tagged by @wancestroll to share some albums I’ve been listening to lately (thank u angel). some musings under the cut. 

This album came out at the end of last year but I stumbled upon it towards the beginning of this year. It has gotten me through some Bad moments and I have had it on repeat variously throughout the year. It’s a really coherent and beautiful neo soul/blues album with excellent production. 

Michael Kiwanuka is so bloody talented it’s almost not fair! It opens up with a BANGER (You Ain’t the Problem), which never fails to make me want to dance and I just put it on repeat when I’m having a bad day. It’s a really beautiful journey through some highs and lows, other personal favourites include Piano Joint (this kind of love) - which always makes me cry and yearn because it’s beautiful - and Hero. 

Michael Kiwanuka is so bloody talented it’s almost not fair! It opens up with a BANGER (You Ain’t the Problem), which never fails to make me want to dance and I just put it on repeat when I’m having a bad day. It’s a really beautiful journey through some highs and lows, other personal favourites include Piano Joint (this kind of love) - which always makes me cry and yearn because it’s beautiful - and Hero. 

It’s the perfect album to blast on sunny days driving around with the windows down because it’s too hot, but it’s also the perfect album to blast when you’re feeling down and want to capture the feeling of a summers day. In short it is gorgeous and I have been obsessed.  

SAWAYAMA - Rina Sawayama

Goshhh this album is just so perfect as a debut album. You would actually be forgiven for thinking this was her second or third full album release, I haven’t been this impressed with a debut album since Tei Shi’s Crawl Space. It honestly sparkles with so much passion and personality. 

She manages to blend so many of my favourite genres into incredible songs that just create such a unique sound, that still sounds incredibly like Rina Sawayama. She draws from such a wide array of influences and experiences - from heartbreaking songs touching on her family to tongue in cheek evaluations of societies obsession with celebrities and wealth.  

It’s fun, it’s heartbreaking, it bangs from start to finish and truly cements Rina as one of the more exciting pop acts at the moment. Highlights for me include: Comme des Garçons (like the boys), Love Me 4 Me and Who’s Gonna Save U Now?. 

It was the perfect soundtrack to a weird, weird year, I could go on for years about this but it would just end up being me screaming and squealing and pointing at every little detail she added (like the concert sounds of who’s gonna save u now?!!!!) 

Petals for Armor - Hayley Williams

This album was probably the one I was anticipating the most this year, from the moment she started dropping hints about PFA I was hooked. As many of y’all will know I am a MAJOR Paramore and Hayley Williams fan, I love the way they have evolved as they have grown up and how it’s weirdly evolved with my own tastes. 

I truly love this album so much, it’s not massively coherent but sometimes albums don’t need to be. Hayley tries out so many different vibes and sounds it makes total sense why she released it as three EPs, giving each of the songs the space they all need in the world before we scrambled to listen to all of them at once. 

It’s also a hugely personal album and as someone who has felt similar feelings of depression and loneliness and grappling with loss and heartbreak I really love how some of the lyrics just really summed up stuff I didn’t even realise I was feeling. 

It starts out very moody and atmospheric and carries us on a journey from anger through to love in such a nice way. There are some duds (I am not a massive fan of My Friend for example) but she delivers them all in such a way I rarely skip songs I don’t love. 

Highlights for me are: Leave it Alone (very atmospheric, very autumnal, very late night walk in the woods, love the imagery and it kills me), Cinnamon (didn’t love this when I first heard it but I was WRONG, it’s really fun and makes you wanna dance and is an ode to loving yourself which we all need a bit more of), Dead Horse (my favourite fuck u song about an ex, it’s cutting where it needs to be and it’s a banger, and it makes me feel like summer and also smashing someone’s car with a baseball bat, and srsly Fuck You Chad), Why We Ever (another one I didn’t vibe with butttt actually now loveeeee so much, it’s so peaceful and full of love and sadness and makes me feel like I’m floating and also like I wanna cry? as someone who has a predilection to self sabotage something good I felt it), Sugar on the Rim (honestly I just wanna dance to this song, preferably in a gay club with pals, it’s so fun and 80s I adore it) and finally Crystal Clear (it makes me feel like I’m floating on a pool of water and serene and peaceful and loved and I’m so happy for her that she can write songs like that, it’s about embracing fear in love and just a really gorgeous song, also the sample of her Grandad’s song is adorable). 

All in all I adore the album and had it on repeat A LOT since it came out, hopefully I will be able to see her perform it live at some point but at this point I am just thrilled that we have been able to experience an album from Hayley Williams like this. 

Flip Phone Fantasy - Ocean Grove

Finally, Flip Phone Fantasy is an album I was introduced to not so long ago (thank u Allie) and I love it. It slaps, it fucks, it is the perfect mad modern nu-metal esque album. 

Again I love the way it blends lots of different genres and sounds and vibes to create something very unique, fun and energetic. I have had this on repeat for about 2 weeks now, so you could say I’m a little obsessed. 

Highlights on the album include: SUPERSTAR (just like a real hot song, love the imagery, wanna dance in a club to it, instead end up just dancing around the house and shower to it instead), GUYS FROM THE GORD (very trance/drum and bass kinda vibes, which I loveeee, reminds me of shady clubs at Uni and going on hikes up Constitution Hill high to watch the sunrise, 10/10 vibes) and ASK FOR THE ANTHEM (another v hot song but in a different way from Superstar, the lyrics are immaculate and the vocal effects are killer, again would party to this song). 

Their first album is also a banger but honestly at the moment this is the kind of vibe I’m going for. Something a little sexy, quite summery, makes you want to dance and also rage at the same time - which is honestly an Eternal Mood. 

also some honourable shout outs to: Chromatica - Lady Gaga, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy - Sarah McLahan, Fetch the Bolt Cutters - Fiona Apple, What’s the 411? - Mary J. Blige, Crisis - Alexisonfire and Die 4 Ur Love - Tei Shi for getting me through this year. 

I am tagging @danielthicciardo, @reynobody, @efe-uno, @alonsista, @j-button and @josefnewgarden1, @laptimedeleted, @mushroom-callum​, @stones-and-water​, @formulaelectrified.