#the drawing to close the summer. now time for cosy cold once more!!

[star-bear-art]

halsin 100% knows she's looking

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from @nebulousfishgills and myself. *giggles* Thomas Sharpe is back in time for Halloween season! Also, this is probably one of the cheesiest Imagines I’ve ever written. Be warned and enjoy!

Words: 2329 Warnings: so much fluff

Thomas Sharpe had stepped into your life rather unexpectedly. He had been looking for work in your brother’s mining company and, thanks to his experience, landed a well-paid job soon after. Your brother liked him. He was the true personification of Britishness—polite, considerate, a Gentleman… and he did love his tea.

Every year when the leaves began to grow too heavy on the trees, discolour and fall off, your brother held a feast to thank his employees for their hard work before the mines closed over the winter. You usually helped to prepare and cook and refill empty glasses; and last year you happened to have refilled Thomas’ glass. He had been smitten by you as much as you had been smitten by him and after countless rendezvous where he confided in you about his horrifying past, you now considered yourselves a couple.

It had been almost a year. Autumn was drawing near again and as you drove through a grove in a carriage, able to peacefully take in the beauty of the season, you leaned against Thomas’ strong body. He sighed, his shoulders heaving. In fact, he had been rather quiet for days now.

“Thomas, are you alright?” Looking up at him with a concerned expression on your face, you allowed him to cup your cheek in response.

“Oh, yes. The cold seasons always remind me of home, that is all.“ He confessed, giving you a small smile. A sad smile.

“This is your home now,” you reassured him. “You are beyond welcome here. A new beginning, remember?”

He hummed in response. “A new beginning…”

-

By the time you arrived at the modest house your brother and you were sharing and you finished cooking dinner for you two, Thomas was still silent. Eerily silent, almost. And it made you worry for him.

Moment after moment passed with only the cutting, chewing and swallowing of food being audible in the cosy kitchen.

“I want to go back to England.” He suddenly stated. You almost dropped your fork.

“You… what? Really?”

“Yes. It is just like you said,” He went on, growing more enthusiastic with a start, “A new beginning. I could start over, restore the house… it does not have to wither away.”

“But… Thomas, I thought you were glad you left this place… that you have so many terrible memories attached to Allerdale Hall. Are you sure you want to be there again?”

Your appetite was all but lost now. Discouraged, you put your fork down and looked him straight in the eye—his beautiful, innocent blue eyes.

“I am. It took me weeks to figure out just why I do not feel complete in this place. I am missing something. I am missing my roots.”

He reached across the table to hold your hand when your eyes filled with tears. “So… you will leave me?”

Thomas shook his head. “No! No, I do not want to leave you. In fact… I meant to ask if you would like to come with me. I do not ask you to leave your home forever. But if I spend my summers here with you, working for your brother and return to England for the winters…”

“Thomas…”

“Please, my love. I want you to be with me. The house is all I have left in my possession and I cannot live at your and your brother’s expenses forever. If I could I would long have purchased us a house here so we can get married and raise our children in our very own home but my savings will not allow it. Instead… if I used them to restore Allerdale Hall…”

Your lips parted. He wanted to marry you. He meant to buy a house where you could raise your children. And he truly seemed to miss his home. Biting your lower lip, you considered his proposal for a moment.

All the work that would come with restoring an entire mansion did not put you off as much as the fact that Allerdale Hall was miles away from your own birthplace. Only if you were with Thomas… did it truly matter where you were? If it meant so much to him… as for you, as long as you could stay with him, it did not matter much to you where you were. It was the change that was scary.

“If this is what you really want…” You finally responded. “…then I will come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up like a Christmas tree and you nodded.

“I will.” There was no denying your promise, in this very moment, was as significant as a wedding vow.

-

“Thomas… this house is huge. It’s just the two of us. How will we use all of this space?” Tilting your head back, you took in the gigantic construction towering into the sky.

“We’ll have to have lots of children.” He replied, gently kissing your cheek and hugging you from behind.

There was a gaping hole in the ceiling, letting the cold autumn air come inside, trapping it. It was freezing. Thomas had not exaggerated. The house was in dire need of renovation but together, so you were certain, you would transform this place into an exciting and a cosy living place. A place in which your children could grow up in and, once in adulthood, remember fondly what it had been like.

You worked hard. Your brother knew some good and honest roofers who offered a fair price for the repair of the ceiling, after that Thomas was able to afford two floorers with whom he began figuring out a way to keep the house from sinking into the red clay he had told you about underneath.

Everything had remained just like he had left it, even his clay machine. Only the bodies… the bodies must have been removed by wild animals or a decent human being who found and buried them. Thomas himself could not bring himself to bury both his most recent wife and sister himself—and after everything that happened, the remaining villagers were rather out of sorts with the last survivor of the Sharpe family.

The next couple of weeks you spent cleaning and tidying (and sneezing) and building and sweeping and slowly but surely, Allerdale Hall was turning into a wonderful home. Not once since your arrival had you felt the presence of a tormented ghost—not once had either of you been haunted. It was like, ever since Lucille’s death, the many murdered women in this house had finally been able to move on.

His favourite part of the house was still the attic which had remained untouched for the most part. You had merely replaced the sofa and the desks, added some lovely curtains and a beautiful lustre for his late-night crafting.

You were almost done now. Nearly everything was clean and tidy, new furniture adding an elegant touch to the old house. The only thing still missing was the outer front and the lowest level. Thomas had told you he no longer wanted anything to do with red clay mining, for it reminded him too much of his past with Lucille and the horrible deeds he had been forced to be a part of. Instead, he wanted to keep helping your brother develop new machines for his mines.

“I have an idea.” You said, loosening your tight ponytail after another cleaning orgy in the house. It was only time for lunch and you could not wait to retreat to your new bedroom already. It was Thomas’ old room, re-furnished and cosier than you could have ever imagined. Thomas had spent a fortune on the new king-size bed with the softest mattress you had ever had the pleasure to sleep on.

“You have had many wonderful ideas over the last few weeks, my love.” Thomas said with a smile. “What have you thought of now?”

“We should host a party tomorrow night.”

His lips parted in surprise. “A party? For whom?”

“No one in particular. Us. Our new home. Besides, Halloween is right around the corner. We should ask everyone to dress up and have some fun after all the hard work.” Now there was a chance that the villagers would downright refuse to set foot into this building ever again but you were rather sure that most of them were curious as to what had become of Allerdale Hall as well. Thomas would be able to prove to them he was a good and decent man—and that he had finally found happiness.

“I agree. I do believe we deserve some time off.”

-

You were busy the next morning, sending out invitations and then buying all the supplies you would need for your Halloween party. Thomas had outdone himself with his outfit—he prepared an all-black suit and black polished shoes along with a cylinder and a dark red bowtie, the latter which fit the dress he had insisted on buying you for tonight perfectly.

Now that the first guests began to arrive in their carriages, all wearing fashionable masks as it was Halloween, admiring what had become of the house so far, Thomas’ nervousness infected you. You had decorated where you could, collecting sycamore leafs and carving pumpkins which were now grinning eerily with candles inside of them. You soon realised, however, that your worries were unnecessary. Thomas conversed like the true Gentleman he was, passionately recalling how much fun it had been to restore the house and that he would have never been able to do any of that without your help. That was when all the attention drifted to you.

Thomas had just disappeared upstairs with an old friend who had been happy enough about his return to show him his renovated workshop when an older man, perhaps in his late fifties, approached you with dismay coating his lips. The rest of his face was unreadable given that he too was wearing a mask.

“So I understand it that you will at some point be marrying the baronet then, my lady?”

“Yes, Sir.” You responded with a polite and content smile. The man shook his head.

“Well, good luck. His last few wives all passed away under rather strange circumstances.”

Tensing up a little, you lifted your chin.

“So I’ve heard and that is very unfortunate. Sir Thomas has my deepest sympathy. And I thank you for your concern but I don’t easily perish.” In fact, the very first thing Thomas and you had done was tossing out the poisoned tea Lucille had been using on his former wives. It was still unsettling sometimes to know he had been involved in murders—but you also knew that Thomas was a good man. He had already lost Edith. He would not lose you.

“You sure don’t, my lady. However, the last remaining woman in Sir Sharpe’s life was his sister Lucille and even her body was never found. I am only trying to help. I run a hotel a few miles west of this atrocious place. I can provide shelter for you, my lady, and hide you from him.”

Shit. You clutched your dress tightly so your hands would not shake as much. “Thank you but that will not be necessary. I love my soon-husband-to-be dearly and if you keep insulting him or his intentions, I will have to ask you to leave.”

“Is there a problem?” Relieved, you let out a breath when you felt Thomas’ arm around your waist and turned around to notice his stern gaze. It was not often you experienced him this cold. The older man blinked, fists clenching a few times.

“No. No problem at all, Sir Sharpe.”

“Good.” With that, he reached for your arm, gently pulling you into the living room. A pianist—another good friend of your brother’s—was filling the hall with warm musical sounds as a couple of guests were dancing. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. He was just being… invasive… about your past.”

“I suspected this might happen tonight.”

“Yes…”

You joined the dancers with a sly smile, letting Thomas take the lead and following his elegant movements as you melted into the harmonious music, both your feet gliding across the floor. And when the piece ended and you came to rest in graceful position in his arms… he suddenly went down on one knee and cupped one of your hands with his as you looked up at you like the most blessed man on the planet. Your heart skipped a beat when he spoke your name. All of a sudden, the room went so still one could have heard a needle drop.

“Will you do me the honour and become my wife? Let me be yours as you will be mine and let us fill this house with nothing but love and harmony.” You never realised there were tears swimming in your eyes—not until they rolled down your cheeks and wetted the fabric of the thin crimson mask you were wearing.

“Yes!” You cried out. “Yes!” Thomas smiled. As the party guests started to clap around you with Ah’s and Oh’s, he scooped you up into his arms, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

“And tomorrow morning…” He whispered into your ear, “I shall buy you the most beautiful engagement ring that England has to offer.”

“You don’t have to buy me an expensive ring, Thomas. Actually…” Your face lit up. “Now that your workshop is done, would you craft one for me?”

His laugh tore through your heart like a tornado. You were right, of course—a hand-crafted engagement ring would be more personal and precious than anything a jeweller could make.

“Did I tell you that I love you?”

“Many, many times. And I love you too. More than anything.”

Your audience cheered even louder when you kissed once more, hugging so tightly not even a thin piece of parchment would have had any space between you.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[niall-is-my-dream]

Power Over Me

Just a little something I wrote. Thanks to @heart-attack-harry and @lizziespidiepridie for reading over it for me.

Warning it's pretty angsty and smutty.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ooXGj4RGrLs

Power Over Me - Dermot Kennedy

Let me know what you think. Em x

*******

2100 words

Have you ever felt your heart completely break in just a split second? The ache that radiates from it spreading throughout your body. The pain travelling all the way down to your toes, leaving you feeling like you can't breathe?

That was you in that moment.

Numb.

Shocked.

Heart beating so fast you felt like it would burst right out of your chest.

One minute you're sitting in the pub with your friends, and then you see something that shatters your already fragile heart into a thousand pieces.

And you can't look away.

You felt the bile rise up in your throat. Something made you jolt and come to your senses, standing up quickly you excused yourself from your friends and made your way towards the toilets. You avoided looking his way as you scurried through the crowds. The toilets had never seemed so far away right now. The illuminated sign came into sight and you burst through the door making no eye contact with anyone. Just scouring the doors to see which one was open and vacant. Spoting the end one free and you charged down to it and slammed the door shut.

Locking the stall as soon as you were inside you turned and leant against the door. Taking a deep breath you managed to control your breathing enough to help the feeling that you were going to be sick subside. It also helped you control the overwhelming need to cry. Crying over guys was not something you did and wasn't something you wanted to do. 

You were stronger than that.

Serves you right for being so fucking stupid in the first place. You should never have crossed the friendship line with him. Should've kept the feelings you had for him under control, of course it was just a bit of fun for him.

You felt mortified for how obvious it had been that you wanted him, that you clearly had feelings for him. It was something you never normally showed but over the course of the last year your feelings had got deeper the more time you spent with him and all your friends. The feeling that they knew what had happened between you both but hadn't said anything about it was embarrassing. You had been avoiding social situations with everyone, blaming work for why you couldn't meet up as regularly as you once had.

After a long week at work, a few drinks in the pub or at someone's with a takeaway was the norm. But you had found yourself staying in by yourself, binge watching Netflix and having a glass of wine instead. 

It had been a month since it happened. And you hadn't stopped thinking about it. The thought made your skin erupt in goosebumps, as your cheeks blushed and your body throbbed desperate to feel him against you again.

He had looked absolutely amazing that night. Fitted black trousers, crisp white shirt and the summer sun had given his skin a glow. You'd been staring at him all night, unable to keep your eyes off of him. 

Niall had sat just across from you at the large table in one of your favourite restaurants. You had been out celebrating a mutual friends birthday, 12 of you laughing and joking while eating and drinking the night away. 

As the wine began to take effect you knew it had been obvious to him that you only had eyes for him. Even when he wasn't talking, just listening to someone tell their story your eyes lingered on him longer than needed.

When you'd moved onto a club and more drinks were consumed, everyone descended on the dance floor while Niall and you stayed in the private VIP area. The booth was tucked away from sight of the crowds, it easily could seat 6 people but you were both pressed up close against each other. Niall's arm leaning behind your body, pulling you close as he spoke to you. He must have noticed how your body reacted to him when you shivered as he spoke in your ear. The noise of the music across the club meant that conversations could only be had if you were close to the other person. Incredibly close, too close almost. You had never flirted with each other in that way before, and fuck did it turn you on.

The conversation was light, normal for you both. You had turned to look at him in shock when he told you a story that Deo had told him about a party he had been at the week before. Niall's hand had come up to sweep some hair that had fallen across your face and place it behind your ear.

Both of you had paused when his hand stayed rested against your cheek, his thumb stroking across your skin that was flushed with lust. When he leaned in and kissed you, you had been shocked at first, your lips hardly reacting. His lips lingering across yours, wondering if he should kiss you again. Closing the gap between you, you let your mouth meets his and he sighed and relaxed as he let his tongue explore your mouth.

The evening had continued on like it had started, sneaky kisses and touches between you both when your friends weren't around. That should have told you everything you needed to know. That it was nothing more than a drunken fumble. But at that time, you hadn't cared to think about what it was. You were just enjoying his lips on yours, his mouth exploring your neck, the sound of his heavy breaths against your ear.

The evening had ended up with you both naked in your bed. 

His body was breathtaking, literally.

Foreplay had always been a quick something before sex with previous partners. But with Niall it seemed to be a way for him to get you so worked up that when he finally filled you up, you'd fall apart within minutes. 

And you did. 

He had barely begun getting into a rhythm of fucking you before you were moaning his name. With your hips tilted, he had been tapping against that sweet spot inside you from the beginning. His face nestled in the crook of your neck, whispering filthy things that made you explode all over his cock.

The feeling of you clenching around him as you came hard didn't stop him, he continued to thrust, prolonging your high. Moaning out a murmur of fuck from you, got him smirking as he moved his face from the comforts on your neck and began kissing down your chest. He devoured your breasts in turn as you felt him slip from inside you.

The feeling of emptiness engulfed you and after a minute the want and need to make him cum just as hard had you pushing him down to the mattress and straddling his thighs. Sweat had appeared across his forehead and his chest felt clammy as you ran your fingers through the coarse hair. His hands rested on your thighs, his fingers drawing circles on your skin.

When you finally sank down on him, you almost came on the spot at the growl that escaped his lips. After circling your hips a few times, you leaned forward and kissed his lips. His beautiful large hands cupped your face, one sliding into your hair and you devoured each other. Sliding up and down him slowly, almost letting him slide out was teasing him to the point that he moved his hand from your hair and held your hips in place.

He pushed his hips up and you gasped against his mouth at how deep he was. Sitting up, your hands on his stomach, you began moving slowly again, loving the feeling of him filling you up.

"Fuck you're beautiful." He whispered, his eyes glistening in the low light of the street lamp that streamed colour across your room.

You couldn't help but go all coy and shy at his words, but continued your movements. With his knees bent slightly he met yours, thrust after thrust had you throwing your head back. When he brought his thumb to your clit and began working your body to another orgasm you let out a mewl that normally you'd be embarrassed about, but in that moment you didn't care. You both came hard and fast together, your body almost collapsing on his.

When you both got your breathing back in line, he began kissing your hair line, delicate and tender kisses. Neither of you said a word as you let him slip from you again and lay down beside him.

Soft kisses were exchanged before you headed to the bathroom to clean up. Niall was still lying in your bed when you came back, you were pleased to see that he would spend the night. However, after cuddling into his chest to sleep that night all cosy and warm, you were disappointed to wake up cold and alone.

And now here you were almost a month later since that night, hiding in the toilet from him. Seeing him cosying up to some girl by the bar had broken you.

You hadn't heard a thing from him since that night, no text or call and he hadn't left you a note. 

Devastation, remorse, embarrassment, you'd felt it all. Now seeing him act like nothing had happened and flirting with someone right in front of you, you are heartbroken.

The amount of times you had said to yourself over the years to cut contact with him and save yourself was endless. You were a sucker for punishment and pain it would seem. You'd seen him date girls in the past and it had hurt, but this was the worst you'd ever felt.

The sick feeling passed and the need to cry had gone, replaced by anger. You needed to get out of here.

You didn't look in the direction that you knew he was in as you made your way over to your friends, but then you felt someone touch your arm. When you say someone you meant Niall, no one could make your skin come alive like him. When you turned to look at him you could see he thought had got the upper hand, some sort of power over you.

"Hey!" He said, a massive smile on his face.

Anger surged through you, and you rolled your eyes at his greeting.

"You ok?" He asked and his smile had turned into a smirk.

"Marvellous. I'm just leaving."

 "So soon?! Haven't had a chance to talk to you yet."

"Yeah, I see you've been busy." You replied angrily gesturing towards the girl still stood at the bar.

"Knew that would make you jealous." He said the smirk still there.

"You're an arsehole." You said and you saw his face drop as you walked away.

"You ok?" Your friend asked you as you reached the table.

"No I don't feel well, I'm off home...."

Then you felt him tap your arm again. That warm feeling coarsing through your body again just from a simple touch.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked, as all of your friends looked at you both wondering what was going on.

"No, you can go fuck yourself." You replied, and you were shocked by how calm you were.

"I'll see you all later." You said to your friends ignoring Niall completely, before turning around and walking away.

You could hear your friends calling your name. Willie's voice was the loudest, asking Niall what the fuck he had done to you. But when you managed to escape the stuffy pub, you let out a sigh of relief at being out of there. It was Deo calling your name that caused you to turn and look back at the door.

"Babe, you don't have to tell me what has happened, I just want to make sure you get in a taxi ok. It's dark and late and you shouldn't be out here on your own." He said and you nodded.

Walking you a minute down the pub lined streets in silence, Deo helped you into the first taxi waiting at the taxi rank. Giving the driver your address, he turned and gave you a hug goodbye and a kiss on the cheek. He told you to text him when you were home safe before shutting the door behind you. 

Relief washed over you as you made your way home.

Your phone buzzing in your hand, Niall's name flashing up on the caller ID.

Part two

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/188213590588/power-over-me-part-two

[artificialqueens]

Summer Lovin'  8/? (Multiship) - Pinkgrapefruit

Chapters 1-7 rewritten on AO3

[ day six. a sense of impending chaos ]

“Shit,” Katya whispers under her breath, and Brooke elbows her halfheartedly, eyes fixated on the woman walking through the Villa like she owns it. God knows she could.

Michelle claps and everyone sits up straighter. “Come along girls,” she tells them with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

*

A/N - look. it’s been a while. i’d apologise but i don’t want to. in quick rundown of the last four months - global pandemic, ocd, chronic joint pain, alevel maths. all caught up? let’s do this! let me know what you all think (and who you think will turn up next!)

[lesbian love island]

*

Katya is the first one out of bed, rolling out from under the covers she shares with Scarlet and stretching her arms up when her feet hit the ground. She does one energetic lap in front of all the beds before heading outside, leaving twelve sleepy women in her wake.

She ties her hair into a messy bun using the red velvet scrunchie she keeps on her water bottle and spends an embarrassing amount of time trying to volley bread into the toaster before giving up and filling the two six-slicers with bread for anyone who wants it. She sets the tea kettle up full and then starts to work on the french press for all the coffee drinkers. Switching the oven onto low heat, she sticks as many ceramic mugs in there as she can fit and calmly leans against the counter watching as people funnel out into the garden.

She sets up mugs of coffee with cream, green tea, honey and lemon, and a couple of standard mugs of tea with a smile.

*

“I like to be helpful. It’s my love language or whatever - acts of service.”

*

Katya drops a coffee and a cup of honey and lemon off with A’keria and Silky in the dressing room. They seem tense, but they’re still passing hair tools between themselves with ease.

“I want to do it,” A’keria mutters under her breath as she combs through her eyebrows, eyes never leaving the mirror. Silky pauses in sipping her coffee.

“That’s why it hurts,” she eventually states; it’s cold at first but if you really listen, you can hear the fragility in her tone. A’keria finally looks up and sighs.

“I know. But you’re my best friend. Can you just be happy for me? Please?”

Silky takes another sip of her drink, but she doesn’t answer.

*

“It’s really hard, ‘cause as much as I love Silk and want her to stay, I also have to do what’s best for me, and I think that’s Yvie.”

*

Willam and Courtney remain in the beds, Willam laying with her head on a pillow, Courtney’s head in her lap, fingers playing with Willam’s own. They’re engrossed in quiet conversation, but unlike Silky and A’keria’s, it’s positive and happy. They’re downright adorable, Katya thinks, as she delivers a green tea for Courtney and a black coffee for Willam. They take them gratefully, Courtney making grabby hands as Katya approaches.

“Thanks, hun,” calls Willam after she takes a sip, and Katya just rolls her eyes at her friend, smiling.

*

Brooke sits on a daybed with her legs spread, Vanessa sits in between them as Brooke methodically braids her hair into two dutch braids.

“Delivery of coffee and green tea for my favourite couple,” Katya announces with a smirk as she watches the scene in front of her. It’s vastly different from the past two days, but she’s glad Vanessa finally let Brooke within two feet of her again - the brunette forcing her lover to sleep on the daybed for two nights after their fight.

“Oh, thank Mary, Joseph, and Jesus,” Vanessa shrieks, “Brookie’s so cranky on a mornin’.”

“Brookie?” Katya mouths at Brooke as Vanessa sips her tea.

“Shut up,” Brooke mouths back, although by the monkey dancing Katya does behind them, the blonde should be worried.

“Thank ya, Kat!”

*

“So I’ve decided to forgive miss Brooke Lynn for being an emotionally stunted engineer and let her back into my bed, because, despite her problems, I do quite like her. Now, if she’ll stop being a jealous hoe - we’ll be fine.”

*

Asia and Nina receive green teas as they sit in their usual spot and look over the Spanish valleys surrounding the Villa.

“Does it bother you that we haven’t kissed?” Nina asks, somewhat hiding behind the mug - eyes reflecting back a raw vulnerability. Asia smiles, bumping their shoulders.

“God, no,” she murmurs, lips still on the rim of the mug. “I like you. I can do this at your pace.” Nina closes her eyes slowly, savouring it. “Plus, I knew your kiss from the line up.” She winks, and Nina snorts out green tea - thrashing one arm in Asia’s direction for making a quip while she had a mouthful.

“I hate you,” she croaks, still swiping droplets of tea from her upper lip.

“Sure,” Asia responds with a grin.

*

Yvie hand delivers Scarlet a smoothie as the latter is sat on the edge of the pool, playing noughts and crosses on a rock with Bianca. They’re passing a bent hair pin between themselves as Bianca sips at the black coffee delivered by Katya earlier. The sun is warm on their skin, but Scarlet is still wrapped in a chunky knit cardigan that looks about three sizes too big for her. She looks cosy.

Yvie thinks it’s cute.

She turns back around to see Scarlet with the metal straw in her mouth, whining at Bianca’s inevitable win. The older woman softens slightly at Scarlet’s dejected pout, but she maintains her snarky bragging just to watch Scarlet squirm.

*

Alaska is leaning her forearms on the counter-top as she watches Yvie make scrambled eggs. She took the taller girl up on her offer of food immediately and doesn’t regret it as her portion is scraped on top of her toast. She bites into it and sighs. It’s warm and good.

“You’re a better kitchen mate than Kiki,” Yvie quips, biting into her own toast after scraping it through the ketchup.

“I don’t think that’s hard,” Alaska volleys back once she’s swallowed. “I’ve watched her think she’s burned water.”

Yvie cackles at Alaska’s anecdote, and the messy blonde wonders what could have happened if she’d met this Yvie on the date. Yvie with less walls. Yvie in a blue crocheted bikini top and a pair of grey basketball shorts.

She smiles and her eyes twinkle. What if…

*

Katya’s phone buzzes from her back pocket and she stands up, waving her free arm wildly. “I got a text!” She screams, and everyone turns to face her. She looks a little winded from the excitement, but everyone else’s faces hold trepidation.

“Islanders,

Tonight there will be a recoupling. Asia and Yvie will go first. The girl not picked to be in a couple will be dumped from the Iisland. Choose wisely.

#getpickedorgetpacking”

*

“I’m fucked, ain’t I? Kiki’s gone and found herself another lover and I’m stuck. Shit.”

*

Yvie collapses onto the daybed and allows A’keria to lean into her, their lips meeting briefly, more for comfort than passion.

“I’d pick you,” A’keria tells her, swallowing hard as she tears her eyes away from Silky by the pool. “If it was up to me, I’d pick you.”

Yvie draws patterns on the bed sheet next to her, fingers twirling in the fabric as she considers the other woman’s words. They don’t change her choice, but they change the way she sees it. She feels less selfish picking A’keria with her expressed consent - knowing it will most likely cost Silky a place.

“Okay,” she responds, hand running over her buzzed hair. Her voice is measured. “Okay, let’s do this.”

She jumps up off the daybed onto the wooden decking, pulling A’keria up with her until they’re holding hands and jumping, just to keep their restlessness at bay.

“What the fuck are you doing?” calls Willam from the other daybed, and A’keria just giggles.

“Who the fuck knows?”

*

Vanessa walks into the bedroom to find Brooke napping on their bed. She stares at the blonde, the way her legs are lean and muscular and her stomach toned… Vanessa shakes her head to snap herself out of it, but walks towards the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. Brooke must feel the way it dips under Vanessa’s weight and sleepily sits up, back leant against the headrest.

She pats her legs gingerly, and Vanessa leans back so her head is cradled in Brooke’s lap. She hums in contentment before looking up at her with a scowl. “I’m still mad,.” She tells her pointedly, and Brooke just shrugs tiredly.

“Okay, honey,” she tells her, and it makes Vanessa scowl even more - she still ends up smiling though as Brooke combs through her hair with her fingers.

“I’m really sorry,” Brooke adds, tentative. “I know I need to work on communication.”

Vanessa grumbles to herself, but her eyes twinkle. “I know I coulda been better too,” she admits, eyes closing in response to the ministrations on her scalp.

“We have time,” Brooke tells her. “We have time.”

*

“She’s got work to do. But I’m okay with her. She doesn’t need to know that, but I am.”

*

Silky approaches Asia, wringing her hands in front of her. Asia waves her over, patting the hot marble next to her and then pulling a towel onto it when she finds it too hot to touch.

“Hey!” She calls, and Silky falls down next to her, sighing when her legs hit the cold water.

“It’s too hot,” she whines, and Asia just kicks some water at her, splattering it up her leg.

“What’s up?” Asia cuts in, sipping water from her bottle as she gives Silky a once over.

Silky shifts on the towel, biding time by adjusting her swimsuit and fiddling with her glasses until Asia elbows her gently.

“I was wonderin’ how you’d feel ‘bout couplin’ up?”

There’s a strangled snorting sound and it takes Asia a second to realise it came from her. She slaps a hand over her face, and Silky just raises her eyebrow.

“I’m so sorry,” Asia tells her, trying to sound sincere and not at all like she’s just laughed at her, “but I think I’ve got something good going with Nina.”

Silky looks down into the water dejectedly, hands running down her swimsuit.

“I figured,” she says, moving to stand up until Asia grabs her hand and squeezes it tightly.

“I love you, bitch,” Asia tells her sincerely, and Silky gives a weak smile.

“I know.”

*

Nina looks pensive when Asia finds her on the swing seats, but as she sits down next to the girl, she sees a little more. She looks anxious, picking at the edges of her fingers, leg bouncing restlessly. Asia places a hand on her bare thigh to steady her, and it seems to calm the brunette.

“Hey,” she says, soft and calm. Nina looks at her and her eyes seem torn.

“Hey,” she replies, but it lacks the smoothness.

“What’s up?” Asia asks, leading. Nina sighs and rubs a hand on the thigh not covered by Asia’s warm palm.

“I feel guilty,” she states with a huff of breath, “that Silky doesn’t get the chance of staying.” Asia has to hide her chuckle at Nina’s empathy - even though she knows it’s causing her pain.

“Baby,” she tries to assuage, “Silky didn’t find a connection. And, hey, we don’t know exactly what’s going to happen, you cannot feel guilty for your success.”

Nina lets out a steady stream of breath through her nose and rests her head on Asia’s shoulder, the darker haired girl running her hand up and down her leg.

“I know you started together and it sucks. But it’s not your problem.”

“I know,” Nina exhales.

*

“I’m too empathetic. I feel too much. Everything hurts. This is going to hurt. But I want Asia - I want her to choose me.”

*

“How would you feel if I chose you?” Asia asks, cautious, as if trying to approach an easily spooked cat. She smiles, trying to be reassuring, but it comes out as a wince.

Nina rubs a hand up and down Asia’s suncream-tacky arm and rolls her eyes.

“I’d be honoured,” she tells her, mock bowing. “If you want to pick me I would be honoured.” She crawls a little closer and places a kiss on Asia’s cheek causing the usually loud woman to shrink a tad, blushing.

“Sounds like a plan.”

*

“I would pick Nina, yeah. Not like Brooke would let me pick Vanessa a second time - I’m kidding, don’t worry. I have nothing but pure intentions towards Nina.”

*

Brooke walks over to where Vanessa is sat, legs dangling in the pool.

“We’re okay?” She asks tentatively, still unsure as to where she stands after the tumultuous few days they’ve had.

Vanessa smiles quietly - it’s the most peaceful the blonde has seen her - hazel eyes reflecting the serenity of the water. Vanessa interlaces their fingers on the edge of the pool.

“I want us to be okay,” the brunette agrees - nodding slowly. “We’re okay.”

Suddenly and with no warning, Vanessa slides into the pool, pulling Brooke with her. Luckily for production, they’re at the shallow end and both of them can easily stand without their microphones ending up in the water - their swimsuits finally used for a practical purpose. *

Willam and Courtney watch the madness from their daybed, snuggled together like cats in the sun.

“Isn’t it nice,” Courtney poses with her fingers trailing along Willam’s mostly bare skin, “to feel so safe?”

Willam snorts out a laugh, leaning into Courtney’s body heat even in the warm summer afternoon. “They say smug isn’t a good look, but you’re sexy when you’re confident,” she jibes, eyes bright and smiling. There is indeed a sense of security to their coupling. No one is going to try and break them - it would be madness.

Courtney flutters her eyes and leans down, catching the blondes lips in a comfortable kiss. When Willam breaks it, she leans back and smiles softly.

“You don’t know how nice it is to be able to do that,” she whispers softly, intertwining their fingers.

“We should get ready. There’s a sense of impending chaos,” Courtney voices reasonably, and Willam scowls. The blonde tries to leave the bed, but she is tackled onto the covers, and they end up making out until Katya wolf whistles at them, Courtney dragging Willam by the straps of her one piece into the Villa.

*

They get ready in tense silence - intermittent chatter coming and going as they choose what to wear and how big to curl their hair. Alaska holds up Nina’s options, so she can pick, and A’keria brushes Vanessa’s hair.

*

“I’m terrified. What’s gonna happen? Who the fuck knows.”

*

They girls all sit around, sipping champagne in the dusk light. They’re dressed up in a way that doesn’t roast them in the mild evening heat.

Above the quiet chatter comes the muffled slamming of a door and then the precise click of heels on a linoleum floor.

Michelle comes through to the turning off heads.

“Shit,” Katya whispers under her breath, and Brooke elbows her halfheartedly, eyes fixated on the woman walking through the Villa like she owns it. God knows she could.

Michelle claps and everyone sits up straighter. “Come along girls,” she tells them with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

*

There’s a dramatic pan out over the fire-pit as everyone sits around it. Michelle stands directly in front of them all, smiling calmly at their anxious faces. I can’t wait for this!

*

“All right, ladies, since this is an all women’s game we’re gonna have to play it a little differently,” Michelle calls out, eyes flicking from the group of nervous women to her cards and back up again. “This is how it’s gonna work. Asia and Yvie, you’re new, so you’re up first. As I call your name, you’ll come and stand next to me and then you’ll pick. Once you’ve coupled up, move to the other side of the firepit and sit with your couple. Sounds good so far?”

There’s a mumbled chorus of ‘Yeah’s and ‘Uhuh’s’ before she continues.

“Willam and Courtney, you’re safe together, so you can move to the other side guys.”

They squeeze each other’s hands and sit down on the less crowded side of the sofa, Willam’s head dropping onto Courtney’s shoulder as the blonde whispers something unintelligible that makes her smile.

“Once we’ve got the newbies done I’m just going to be calling people up from my list.” She waves her card vaguely. “All ready? Let’s do this.”

*

“First up then, Asia.”

Asia stands up, smoothing out the red silk dress and pulling her neatly curled hair over one shoulder as she walks to stand next to Michelle. The older woman gives her a smile and a nod as if to say ‘take it away’.

“I want to couple up with this girl because…” Asia starts with a small smile, although her hands are knotted together in front of her. “Because she’s sweet and kind and one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. In the short time I’ve known her, I think we’ve really clicked, and I really can’t wait to watch more sunrises and sunsets with her and a mug of green tea. Also, she’s fucking gorgeous.” This earns chuckles from the rest of the group. Nina smiles at her lap.

“So the girl I want to couple up with, is Nina.”

Everyone whoops and cheers as Nina stands up and walks over to Asia. Her black crop top and white skater skirt complement Asia’s outfit, and they make a striking couple as the dark-haired girl loops her arm around her waist and places a chaste kiss on her cheek. They sit together on the sofa, and Asia visibly relaxes as Nina strokes a finger along her exposed forearm.

“You did great.”

*

“Yvie,” Michelle calls, and the tall woman moves to the front of the sofa, shifting in her heels as she bites the inside of her lip. She’s nervous, disarmed.

“I want to couple up with this girl because I think we’re both here for the same reason. We both want something real that’s not a friendship.” She purposely avoids looking towards A’keria or Silky as she says that. “I’ve got to go with my gut instinct. I came to find a connection and that’s what I’m going to do. So the girl I want to couple up with is… A’keria.”

The group claps, except Silky who sits scowling until Bianca nudges her hard.

A’keria and Yvie kiss, and A’keria does not look back, face buried in Yvie’s shoulder.

*

Next up is Vanessa. She was originally coupled up with Brooke, but caught Asia’s eye causing her to be sleeping alone for two nights. It’s a difficult choice… What will she do?

*

“Alright, Vanessa.”

As Vanessa stands next to Michelle, she scans the remaining girls. She’s not really mad anymore, just a little regretful maybe. She’s lost two nights of cuddles and she wants to take that back. She pulls her high waisted shorts up a little higher before she starts to talk.

“So, I wanna couple up with this girl because I feel like we have a real and genuine connection. Um,” she shifts on her feet, looking Brooke dead in the eyes, “she has me in hysterics twenty-four-seven and I’ve missed cuddles more than she knows, which are two things I really want in a girl. I’m excited to see how things progress in the future. So the girl I would like to couple up with is-”

“-Miss Brooke Lynn, come here, boo.”

*

Okay, Alaska’s up next. She has an agreement with Katya, but will she stick to it?

*

Alaska struts up, legs bowing, and examines the four girls. She’s not really making a choice, but she feels like she should probably at least look like she’s a bit torn. She squints and clears her throat, hands twisted together in front of her.

“I want to couple up with this girl because I feel she’s a valued member of ths group, she’s really cherished by blessing us with her pearls of wisdom in times of need and-” she lets out a big exhale. “I just feel like she’s really loved in our group. So the girl I want to couple up with is… Katya.”

Kaya mocks letting out a huge breath and moves forward to hug the taller girl, leaving a big, red lipstick kiss on her cheek. Alaska rolls her eyes and smiles as Michelle calls Bianca up.

*

Finally, Bianca gets to choose. Will she pick her history with Scarlet or a clean slate with Silky?

*

Bianca sighs, eyebrows furrowed as she flits between the two girls left. She figured it would get to this - it’s not surprising to her, nor anyone left in the Villa, but she still wishes it wasn’t her choice to make.

“I am choosing this girl,” she starts hesitantly, “because she makes me seem quiet. She’s loud, fun, and she’s got a charming personality. Not to mention she’s not bad on the eyes. I want to give her more of a chance in this Villa even if we’re not a match. So, the girl I want to couple up with is…” She looks at them both again and realises what she’s saying stands for both of them.

She has to tear her eyes away as she makes her choice.

“Scarlet.”

*

“Alright, Ladies,” calls Michelle, still smiling even as tears fall from a couple of girls’ eyes. “Silky, you have been dumped from the Island, you have thirty minutes to pack up and say your goodbyes.”

Michelle stalks out of the Villa in much the same way she walked in, and it’s just as unsettling to watch her leave. It’s like the rest of the Villa is stuck on pause until suddenly everyone crowds Silky.

A’keria detaches herself from Yvie’s arm and runs in her heels, barrelling towards the bigger girl until they’re locked in an embrace.

“I hope I didn’t ruin our friendship,” she whispers, and Silky chuckles wetly.

“You didn’t,” she replies and she turns to Vanessa, hugging her too. They all follow her through the Villa, helping her pack, and eventually walking her to the door where she is hugged by everyone once again. She waves at the crowd of women and walks out.

*

“I didn’t find what I wanted here, but, hey. There’s gotta be someone who’ll love all of me. And I can’t wait to find them. I’m coming for you, lesbians!”

*

The Villa is quiet as they get ready for bed, sliding into their new and old couples easily.

Brooke and Vanessa relish in their newfound solidity and pull the duvet over their heads before the lights even go out. Willam and Courtney have just enough decorum to wait.

Alaska and Katya, and Bianca and Scarlet, settle in as friendship couples, though it doesn’t stop Katya’s need to spoon anything and everything warm.

Nt Asia and Nina fall asleep either side of the invisible wall Asia’s set up for Nina’s comfort, although a hand reaches through it at some point, Nina’s palm on Asia’s hip.

A’keria and Yvie waste no time.

*

NEXT TIME:

TWO NEW GIRLS CAUSE TROUBLE.

[rainbowcolouredstudies]

Mental Health Studying Tips!

So I know that a lot of us are struggling with their mental health and I know from my own experience how hard it can be to study when you are depressed, anxious, have panic attakcs etc. There is not one solution that fits everybody, but there are solutions that help a lot of people and even if they may not help always, they may help sometimes; and that´s why I want to share them with you guys.

Environment

Bevor you start to study, think about your environment and about your needs. You live alone at home or with a family that harms your mental health? You hate being alone in a quiet room? You have very little room at home or many distractions? Then you should probably avoid studying at home. But what can you do instead? Well, there are multiple places you could go, depending on your requirements!

o   Study with friends! If you need to be with people to not drown in your own thoughts or triggers, study in a group or at least with one friend. This is especially great, if you need lots of social contact or distractions from yourself. Explain the topic to each other, practise together, maybe write an excerpt together.

o   Get a baby sitter (for a small calm child or baby) or an cat/dog sitter job! This gives you access to a totally different place. A calm child won´t need that much attention all the time as many children have lots of toys for playing alone. Animals neither need constant attention but they are a great comfort if you are struggling with your mental health. This of course is a bit risky because the child or animal might need lots of attention but it can be worth a try, especially if you can filter out the ones over time, that stress you and only keep the clients that allow you a relaxed study atmosphere.

o   Go to a library! Whether it is a public one or the one of your school/university, there will be lots of seats and often even multiple computer and printer that you can use for a really little amount of money. Of course you have to hope to get a seat there but most cities have some „hidden“ libraries, unknown to most people and therefore less crowed. Adult education centres too have often rooms with tables to which the public has access. And most universities have huge reading halls where you can work in a quiet and calm atmosphere. Make a list of all the places your city offers and find out, where you are most comfortable.

o   In summer, you can study outside: Be it in the park, beside a river order in a forest even. You can either look up such places or just walk around till you find places you like. This is of course not ideal if you have to use a laptop, but if you charge it before leaving your home, it will give you some hours of studying between sunlight and singing birds – which can be very calming and grounding.

o   If you are the type for auditive studying (which does not work for all subjects but for many) you can record yourself explaining the topics and then listen to these records while going for a walk. This is especially good if you tend to have too much energy to sit for a long time.

o   Many people also study in a Café. You are not alone but you also don´t have to communicate. Of course you mostly have to consume a drink so this can be a bit difficult if you have financial problems. Also you should search for a Café that has tables that are big enough for your laptop or books. Look for a Café that´s not too crowed or you might have to consume all the time in order to stay there.

These of course are situations that can be problematic. They are limited to certain times, space limits like empty seats and weather circumstances. That´s why I do recommend these study environments only for those, who have no other choice because either their mental health or their family makes it impossible to study at home. If you are one of these people, then you´ll need a tight time schedule; everything has to be planned and coordinated because you basically have to finish your studying till these places close.  I therefore also ask all the other people, that can study at home, that don´t have problems with studying in their own room, to leave the seats a bit more often to the ones that need them more!

But this is not the only thing that counts as environment. Even if you study at home there are so many factors you have to decide:

-        Do you need to have it cosy? Then you will probably love studying in your bed or, if it is carpeted, on the floor. Yes, studying on the floor can be great because you have lots of space and you can use a notebook or laptop as table on your lap so that you will be able to write properly. When reading it is even more pracitcal!

-        If you have troubles staying awake, definitely choose a normal table. This can be the table at your room but it can also be in the kitchen or the living room if it is quiet enough there. Often the kitchen table is the biggest so that may be great if you have to work with many books!

-        If you have a balcony or garden, this is also a great place to study. But make sure your paper sheets won´t fly away!

Make always sure to study at a place where you feel safe but also not distracted! Your mental stability is one of the most important factors for successful studying.

Okay, so now you know where you want to study. Now you need…

The Setup

The setup basically means what you surround yourself with during your study sessions. Find things that motivate you, that remind you of something beautiful or positive but that don´t distract you too much. This might be cute pastel stationery or maybe a plushie that calms you. Crystals also help for many people. Basically it should be something that makes the study space a safe zone for you. If you study in your own room, this is very easy: print out beautiful calming pictures, buy one or two easy to handle plants, maybe some fairy lights or other decorations. Get sticky notes and highlighter in the colours that calm you the most. If you have a bit more money, buy framed pics in these colours, sheets, carpets, curtains. Anything that helps you relax is great. But attention! You don´t have to find beige and white and black, or pastel colours or glitter or rosegold or succulents relaxing. A wooden skull, black walls, a picture from Dali and an old clock can do the same for you maybe. Or maybe you need some space aesthetics? Maybe science fiction, fantasy, wildlife…anything can be right for you. It does not have to fit the tumblr standards of a perfect studyblr; it has to fit your standards and only yours!

Make sure to keep everything you need at hand. Having to get up and search for study materials can really harm your focus or motivation. So get all the books you will need, the laptop, the charging wires, paper and pencils, water and maybe a snack. Especially when you don´t study at home it is important that you take everything with you – you´ll not want to hurry back. Also make sure to have enough light – best is natural day light but if you cannot have these, a soft yellow light is often better for your mental health than a bright and cold white one. Fresh air is important too. Find music, that helps you relax, no matter what kind of music this is.

The time schedule

Especially when you have issues with your mental health, a well planned time schedule is important so you won´t get stressed. Make a to-do-list for everything you need to get done. Then draw a star beside the things that you have to get done until tomorrow. Do these things thirst. Afterwards, allow yourself a break but don´t stop studying for that day. The further you get, the less stress you will have. Study until you find you are getting tired – often physical tiredness comes short before a mental health issue. Stop as soon as you get too tired, so that you won´t trigger your anxiety or depression (I know for many people it is always there, but it can be stronger or less string. Tiredness makes every mental health issue stronger and this something that you can truly avoid.) Okay, so stop. Just stop. You´ve done as much as you could and you can´t do more now – your mental and physical health is still more important than your grades!

Don´t go to bed immediately. Having no free time is one of the worst things you can do to your mental health! Enjoy something: Go out for a walk or talk to a friend, watch a movie, read a chapter oft he book you wanted to read for ages. Sit back and listen to music, close your eyes and just enjoy it. Write in your mental health journal, and if you don´t have one, go get one now! (I will make a post about that topic soon). Don´t go too much on social media. You will just compare yourself to others and feel less successful. You can and should be proud of your success so please don´t let anyone ruin it!

What to do:

-        Document your success – be it in a journal, a bullet journal, a students planner, just a sheet of paper or a Word document. Write down what you did, even if it was not much.

-        Before you start to work, write down what you have to do. Break it down into smaller bits so you can cross out the bullet points more often.

-        Reward yourself! Be it with small things like allowing yourself to read a chapter of your favorite book in the evening or maybe with bigger things. For example, once you managed to finish that important paper, 25-pages, professionally researched; once you managed that, you go out to the movies our buy yourself some stationery or the new CD you love. Or maybe you just relax for a day and try not to think about studying.

-        Avoid expectations! Don´t tell yourself that you have to get a certain grade. Just do your best and it will be enough.

-        Make sure you don´t plan to much for a day. Otherwise you will feel overwhelmed which again can trigger you. So be pessimistic when making the plan for that day and the plan will turn out realistic. Trust me, it works most of the time.

-        Spend your breaks with things that calm you and where you know that they won´t trigger you.

-        Don´t have a set schedule when you will take breaks and when you will study. Take a break when you need one and don´t be to hard on yourself.

-        Write on top of every page of your excerpts a line from a song or a movie, some kind of quote that will make you smile.

-        Write down these quotes basically everywhere: one on every page of your planner, one in every study book you own, etc.

-        Put cute stickers or printed pics basically everywhere. They will remind you of hope and light and of all the beautiful things in your life.

-        Don´t look at what lies ahead of you but at what you have already accomplished.

-        Eat food that helps your mental health: for example, avocado. Avoid lots of fat: it makes you feel tired and heavy which again can trigger a lot of bad emotions.

-        Avoid too emotional music. Listen to songs that can´t trigger bad memories or thoughts.

-        Don´t even start to study when you literally don´t feel like it. Instead, do something that improves your mental health of that moment: any hobby that helps you, a song, going for a walk, petting you dog or dog, talking to your fish, taking a nap, whatever…Once you are a bit more stable, start with an easy task that you can finish in short time. It will give you a feeling of success and therefore motivate you to get done more. Slowly intensify the difficulty of your tasks.

What not to do:

-        There are people that can get really bad symptoms from caffeine, I know, it keeps you awake and coffee tastes nice and everything. But if you have issues with your mental health, please be careful! It can literally cause you some kinds of short-time hallucinations. Also, and that is a problem for even more of us, it makes you feel more awake then you are; you won´t feel it early enough when your body gets tired to prevent your mind from getting tired. And therefore, it is way harder to avoid triggering your mental illness.

-        Don´t isolate yourself, at least not after you finished for that day. Isolation harms us so badly. Even if it´s no deep talk about your feeling, just talking to your friend about what you achieved today or about your plans for the next holidays can help a lot. Communication and social interaction DO help us, even when we feel sociophobic – but you have to be careful and avoid toxic people.

-        Often times, bright cold white light can give you not only a headache but might trigger negative emotions. We associate cold white light with hospitals, with strict offices, with tough university classes. When we see these lights during our study time, all these associations are triggered – and with them, lots of negative emotions.

-        Never compare yourself with what others get done. Compare yourself with your former self and try to improve. But even if you don´t, remember that you are always doing your best – and that is always enough!

[lavenderthebook-blog]

Chapter 1: Just me and old ghosts.

On the 3rd on June, my feet landed in the wilds of Ireland. 

I shall not share with you exactly where, because I don’t wish for people to go there seeking what I found. Just know that, on that day, the clouds gave way to light, and it was bright. I looked about at where I’d come to summer this year. The old, worn cobbled courtyard paved the way between 3 structures. First was the small 20-meter-long cottage that I’d been told to not enter. It’s door crumbled to the whims of the wind, and as I tried to gaze in through the window, which was held in place by cobwebs, I only saw old furniture, baskets of nick knacks, and the occasional thing that glimmered in the light, but which I could not make out from outside. My hand touched the wall of the cottage as I attempted to perch myself upward for a better look, the warmth of the day was sucked away from me, and I was left cold. And that was the end of that. I did not fancy being murdered in a haunted cottage. Whilst that would make a great little book, be thankful it’s not this one. I certainly am. Second, the garage. One quick peek around the corner showed me that it was not simply used as a resting place for unfinished projects and lost things. It was full of every conceivable item a farmer might use, from any conceivable time. I will defend to my deathbed that I saw the world very first scythe mounted on a mantle in the back. No lights existed in this place bar that which crept in through cracks and nooks from outside. Not haunted, so, comparatively, better than the cottage. Thirdly, lastly, and grandest, was the main house. It was as beautiful brute, with no finesse or grace to it. It had been built to weather the coldest of winters, and it did so proudly. It’s hanging baskets of flowers, small rusted windows, mouldy dark guttering, and faded cream paint was nothing special, but a welcome dose of rural life. No thatched roof. A shame, as I always wanted to see what they were like. Instead, just plain black tiles. I reached under the mat and found the key, unlocked the lock, and stepped in.

 Who doesn’t like seeing an agga when they walk into a home? It’s the heart of a house, and whilst time may have forgotten them, my heart never will. Fond memories of my youth came back to me. Flipping the toast whist it was in its weird rigid net. The shovelling of sausages into one of its many doors only to then shovel them into myself. The time-honoured tradition of resting sock covered feet on it when winter came to try fend off frostbite. It made me think of my Mum and my Dad. They won’t be mentioned again in this book, but if they read this, know that whenever I see an agga, I think of you both. The agga, acting as a sort of all-in-one cooking device dubbed this room the kitchen. The plain wooden cupboards adorning the bare brick walls, large steel sink, and varnished wooden island that doubled as both food prepping area and food consumption area confirmed this further. I dropped my bags on the wooden floor and headed further into the heart of the beast.

The only way onwards from the kitchen was the deep darkness of the hallway. With only one painted glass window as a light source, as well as any that happened to spill out of the kitchen, the hallway was likely as bright at midday as it was at midnight. Luckily, the small radiator, white stairs, and the cheerful nature of the painted glass did give it a more friendly feel rather than fiendish. The white stairs lay to my left, whilst further on to my right was a closed door.

The door led to a small, but cosy room, painted a now faded zinc, hosted a tv wearing its AV cable input as if a row of medals in the far-right corner, and a surprisingly new and likely Swedish bookshelf on the left, which was newer than any of the books and things that lay on its shelves. Betwixt them lay the large, ornate fireplace, its steel cold to the touch, but clearly having been used a lot as it had been blackened by soot. I’d imagine it grew a shade darker each year, as it would be necessary come winter. The sofa across from all of these was comfy. It filled the room with dust when I let myself fall into it, but its faded emerald colour and the sheer depth it let me fall into told me I’d be spending many a morning sat in it, happily munching at toast whilst guessing at the tv’s static charades in an effort to watch something.

Now up the stairs, which creaked a bit, but who doesn’t like a minorly creaky step? It gives such boring a thing some character. Upstairs were 4 rooms. Two were almost identical bedrooms, with only a small table, a single bed on a steel bedframe, and a chair in them. The only difference was that one was painted periwinkle blue and faced north, the other fuschia and south.

The next room was a grand bathroom and was above the kitchen, and was painted almost completely clinical, pure white. An old standalone bath, held upright by four feet moulded into the shape of lion paws, stood proudly cantered on the left wall, with the largest windows yet just next to it, ensuring that an unfortunate passing robin would be sure to catch a fright. The (thankfully) modern toilet was built into the far wall, and was next to the sink, which was a big clunky thing, and reminded me of why the saying used to be actually somewhat funny. On the right was a small dressing room, filled with now empty shelves, and a smell of very slight mildew and fabric softener. Hidden behind the bathroom’s door was a rather clinical 5 by 5 by 8 upright cut into the wall that had an almost watering can like nozzle fixed at the top, and a garden hose like tap on one of the ‘’walls’’. This was the ‘’’’shower’’’’. I saw no temperature nozzle, and realised there was no choice here, only pain. All of a sudden, I began to miss the city a little more.

I finally came to what I was to be my bedroom, which was decorated in a delicious shade of blonde (though, it may have been so appealing due to my own like for women who wore it). It was a large room, with a fittingly large queen sized bed centred along the wall, bedside tables on either side, with a large old hickory leather travel trunk at the foot of the bed.  3 differently styled wardrobes were dotted around the rooms walls. One was Japanese in appearance, with a beautiful mural painted across the two doors, and then otherwise raven. One a simple, but large oak thing, which seemed to lean slightly to the left. The last had once clearly been its twin, but was now covered in glitter, little drawings in crayon, and was marked on its side with 2 of the same names repeated upward as the age next to them grew too. It was a wardrobe that had been loved, and so I was pleased to have it here with me. ‘‘But the back blurb of the book promised me a romance story. What does a soggy description of a house have to do with that?’’ I hear you moan.

Not much really, if I’m honest. Though You’re quite the impatient bitch aren’t you? But if this book is to mean anything to you, as it does me, you have to come with me on this journey. You see, Ireland has a magic too it. Its raw and old. It lets life creep into every little thing that will hold it, and so all these pieces of furniture and appliances are just that, furniture and appliances. But for my three months there, they each took on a little life of their own and became dear friends to me. This is how you must see when reading this book. The best way to understand it is to go and hold something of yours that you’ve had for an age and feel yourself give it life. Ireland is a place where even a fence can take on such a life. And does so rather well. So yes, at times this will be a little pretentious, a little overly dramatic and poetic, and a little strange, but I will try my best to put not only my thoughts, but what I was feeling into words for you, dear reader. All I ask is that you try your hand at reading them as if you were there with me, and not simply an observer. Don’t read the moment, live it like you live the memory of your first kiss: with vivacity and a passion that you can’t escape.

 But you were promised ghosts in the chapter title, and you shall have them. Unfortunately, no white sheets came to life and booed at me that night. But as I sat falling into the sofa, the fading light of day painting the bookshelf, tv, and fireplace in fantastic hues of blush and tangerine, I thought on why I’d come here. I’d come with more than just physical baggage. You thought a person ventures out into the Irish wilderness to live in a farm for 3 months on a whim? I’d like to hope my whims would land me in some place sunnier, and with more obvious ways to escape or drown my sorrows like Ibiza, or New York. Unfortunately, I came here for a reason. I am Irish, but I’d never lived there. I’d not grown up there. I’d missed out on the unique zest for life that Ireland gifted its people, and I was in dire need for it now. Why? Because I was broken hearted, broke, and hopeless. My heart had been broken, as it often is, but a love turned sour. We’d been together for one amazing year, three good months, one odd month, then one great month, and then three months where I’d watched them fall in love with someone else. Now it had been one year without them, and without hope in the idea of love. It was not a pleasant feeling. I wanted them, but at the same time knew it would be like drinking poison. Even as I write this, my hand squeezes the pen as I’m forced to remembered fond memories that I wish forgotten.   I was broke because, for the last few months, I’d not written anything. Well, I’d written things. Small articles for a paper. A short story that lost an armature writing competition to a tale called ‘’Me and Rum: Fun Fun Fun’’. A children’s book that only proved to me that it was harder to write a children’s book than I’d previously thought. Turns out not every animal is cute when it can talk. Because of this, I’d lost all hope in myself as a writer, and the roaring blazes that had once fuelled me as I wrote now grew dimmer by the day.

And so, I’d returned to where my ancestors had been born, and grown, and bled, and cried, and loved, and fought,  and danced, and lost, and died in the hope that they might lend me their strength, or that the zest I’d missed out on would be paid to me with a bundle of interests attached. This, oddly, would turn out to be true.

But for now, simply imagine eyes closing as a laptop slowly slides off the side of a lap and into the sofa. A head falling into a chest. And the sound of snoring filling the house. I’d fallen asleep not knowing that beyond these walls she lay in wait for me, as much as I had, in a way, been waiting for her. I wonder if she’d spotted me as I’d come into the house, and watched through those rusty windows as I met each room, cooked with the agga, and mastered a duet with the tv where I held its antenna out the window and it, in turn, played the news. I hope she’d not seen me dance around under the showers cold water though. If she did, I hope it at least made her laugh.

[nuestnewsletter]

Happy NU’Year!

The end of a year marks the start of a new beginning; but before that, I would like to take the chance to reflect upon ourselves.

2018 saw the continuation of a miracle. From releasing new music ( even new solo songs ), to new music show wins, to going to more award shows, to even attending the first gayo of our lifetime. New CFs, new TV shows, new opportunites for each and every single member. Every  milestone, every new goal, there is no doubt 2018 was an amazing, amazing year.

Of course there were worrying moments. There are fandom disagreements, within and beyond our communities. There’s times where we doubt ourselves. What if we don’t do as well? What if we failed our expectations? What if?

But nerves, nerves are good, because it means you care. 

And LOVEs do. To see a group and fans rebuild itself over the course of the years, from its foundations of discography and hard work to the last two of new-found popularity, I have never been more proud. The same could go to Minhyun, who tried his utmost best in Wanna One. Both NU’EST W and Minhyun had shown how much they have grown over the years, creating so many new, treasured moments in just the last 18 months.

We see members having not just one, but two solo songs. We see them gaining interest on television, becoming rising variety rookies. We see love calls from CFs, groups and solo, and we see them taking on new genres, new cover stages, new challenges. Every day, we see an improved version of themselves, and everyday, we grow.

Yes, even LOVEs too. 

Sometimes I like to think that being in a fandom is like opening a cafe. The cafe is homey - think warm cocoa in cold winters and refreshing grapefruit ades in summer. There’s beanbags on the floor, tables and chairs nearby. A tiny reading corner perhaps. Maybe even a second floor to accommodate everyone. All different kinds of flavors and scents, welcoming people in and out on a day to day basis. 

There are regulars. LOVEs who have made their camp in the cafe with their favourites. Some of them prefer grapefruit ade all year round. Others changes flavor when the mood hits. It’s alright, everyone have their preferences, and there’s other things to talk about. The latest music, the latest news. Someone would turn on the tv, and everyone would gather round.  

There are those who frequent the shop. Faces you’d see once in a blue moon, maybe. Sometimes it felt like they’ve been here, but maybe not. It doesn’t matter. The cafe is cosy, and they found their spots. Occasionally they’ll say something, and others would chime in. But even if they don’t, the silence is comfortable - coffee machines whirring in the background, soft music playing in the air, and outside the windows, the sun is shining in.

Sometimes, there’s disagreements. Raised voices across the tables, people leaving. It never lasts long however, because when you’re so accustomed to a place you could almost call it a second home, it’s worth more than that moment of quick tongues. Because ultimately, like friends ( like family ), there’s more in common than to fight against for.

Sometimes, there are times where we have to put the foot down. Being welcoming is different from being a pushover. And in this cafe, there is a ‘no rudeness to employees and customers’ policy. Still, not all things are black and white, and this balance is something we all have to learn about. What draws the line, what doesn’t? This is a ruler that each and every one of us has to hold, and be accountable for our own actions.

And sometimes, there are new people. Chairs are shuffled into places, beanbags realigned. It’s not always we get passerbys entering, but when we do, we like to keep it homey. Safe. A place for people with the same interests to gather. So we ask the curious, but unsure faces as they take a seat: blueberry smoothie, grapefruit ade or americano for you?

In 2019, we’d be seeing a lot of new faces. People who got curious of the cafe around the corner, people who was hoping to give it a try but never found the time to do so until now. Many of them would turn up, some so shy to walk in that they had to knock on the door, or peer in, waiting for signs of welcome. 

I imagined a loud chorus, a friendly wave. Someone picking up the magazine and pointing them to a seat. Others quickly going through the menu of the day. “What’s your favourite?” they’ll ask, and people would gather round. They’ll answer questions, and they’ll talk others if there’s no queries. The tv would be on full blast, fighting with the music in the air. 

The quiet cafe wouldn’t be so quiet after all, but it’s okay. It’s a little messy too, but it’s okay.

We all make do. And love it while we do.

Sooner or later, some would leave. Maybe the drinks aren’t up to their taste, but they’ve tried and tasted. And it’s alright. But some would stay. And maybe, they’ll grow fond of other things too. The occasional sweet cakes served. The random parties behind closed doors at night. Trying new flavors. Learning new things. New regulars. Some frequent comers. A few who we don’t really see, but turn up from time to time.

And it all starts with opening the door.

In 2019, I hope all LOVEs are ready to open the door. I’ve seen a lot of welcoming posts, and honestly it’s great to see how we’re becoming bigger with new potential and opportunities at every corner. Let’s us leave the unhappiness in 2018, the feuds, the little discords. What’s done is done; instead, there’s new things to look forward to.

A new year, a new beginning. Like the five blossoming flowers, NU’EST Newsletter wishes all LOVEs health and happiness, and we will see you down this road this year as well.

Much ♥ Alia.

[coral-station]

1: Fresh Start Station (Draft)

Agent 8 needed a new name. After everything she had gone through and despite all that she had gained, it wasn't without loss. Her arduous journey that started with her fateful encounter with a young squid she would come to know as Agent 3, propelled her through the darkest depths of the deep sea and - perhaps without her full understanding - culminated in the social liberation of her kind. Torrents of demanding feats and tests came at her one after the other as she was set in pursuit of Agent 3. The reasons and truths drew closer each step of the way and, Agent 8, surfaced alongside them. Agent 8, with help from a surprisingly crackpot team of Squid, Cuttlefish and Octopus had overcome a maniacal and ancient evil to, much like their composition, united societies and found a freedom deeper than the oceans they escaped from. What was lost however, was Agent 8 herself. 'Agent 8' was a nickname for convenience sake; her previous name, memories and life was left behind, torn off at the bottom of the sea. The only thing Agent 8 had left floating in her mind was the heavenly melody of the Calamari Inkantation, brought in by a rebellious tide that carried so much flotsam from a wreckage of life to be left behind.

"How about we just call you 8?" Said Pearl who, by this point, had become tired of thinking about the same thing for this long.

"No, Pearlie. It needs to have more meaning to it, you know" Marina looked over at me, warmly considering my feelings "You've gotta start fresh, right?"

"Yeah, you're right. I want to start re-establishing me again, somehow" Marina shot me a quick pose as I did my best to hide the pensive look that grew on my face.  

Pearl stood up from the lavish sofa, perhaps jumped off like a small child who sunk too far into the overly fluffy cushions would be a more accurate way to describe the small squid's movements. I watched as she trudges along the matching pink, fluffy rug that filled in the floor space from here on the sofa to most of the way to what was more window than wall. Sunlight broke through the thin cloud cover and warmed the large open-plan seating room so effortlessly in a way I never thought I would experience. I have a vague recollection of seeing the sun's rays break through the waves far above my head. Thinking of when I would have been in such shallow waters as to see the sun gave me a headache. While remembering specifics of my life from before is tough, I still recall clearly how cold and dank Octarian society was and, most of all, how profoundly deep down our lives were. This separation from the world above was stressed upon us no more clearly than in rare specs of light that penetrated our darkness, teasing us of what was up there - teasing us only if you still had a mind to think with of your own.

After concluding the events that had me fighting for the liberation of all Octolings from a society that was as oppressive as the ocean's pressure, I began to live with Pearl and Marina. This duo had assisted me under the guises of M.C. Princess and D.J. Hyper_Fresh respectively. Pearl was a shorter-than-most-squid who, despite living in luxury her whole life, was honest, tireless and as loyal as a barnacle. Marina, on the other hand, was actually an Octoling like me! Likewise, her life was changed when she first heard the Calamari Inkantation. Unlike me, she had managed to escape to the surface world and join the Inkling's society all by herself. When Pearl and Marina met, they had instantly bonded over their love of music and formed a band: Off the Hook. Off the Hook just as instantly became a hit and the two of them of are at the forefront of Inkling pop-culture, but I've come to know rather differently following their stint as my undercover saboteurs.

"But what you did was really something!" Pearl spun around from large pane of glass and beamed a smile as radiant as the summer afternoon. "I thought that continuing to call you 8 would carry some ... gravy" 

Marina and I surely shared the same dumbfounded look on our faces for a moment until Marina cracked the code. "Do you mean gravitas?"

"...What did I say?" Pearl then joined ranks and wore a similar confused expression. There was nothing to do but laugh about it.

"Thanks, Pearl. I just would rather start life here with a blank slate and fill it out myself from here on" I stretched out my legs and stood up, leaving what I imagined was the softest place on this earth. I had no real intention to go anywhere and just walk around idly, but as if catching me before I left forever Marina spoke up. 

"Are you still thinking of leaving soon, finding your own place?" Marina may well have held out her arm to grab me "I mean, I- uh, we, want to help you all we can. It's the least we can do"

It was clear Marina felt somehow indebt to me personally, owing to her also being an Octoling. The significance of it all was never lost on me. "I would love that" not being in a position to be as self-reliant as I want to be quite yet, I could only accept gratefully.  

It was the polite thing to do anyway, to oblige and let both Marina and Pearl express their gratitude - not that I feel deserving completely. Truthfully, the whole ordeal was such a whirlwind, I can hardly believe I was capable of doing something of the things I had to. They say in certain dire situations you find that your body is capable of unimaginable physical feats. I must have tapped into my primal instincts - do or die. It was a real rush! Living with Pearl and Marina in their stylish mansion far from the city - further from the sea - it was too quiet, relaxed and I was on edge. Even now I find it uncomfortable to sit still for too long. When I look out to or ponder around the well-kept garden, the smell of cut grass and trimmed hedges that soothes others only makes me almost uncontrollably agitated by the serenity of it all. My bedroom window towards the rear of the estate overlooks the garden's stone bird water feature, waking up to that sight in the morning irritates me. I cannot comprehend that thing. Marina often sits beside it watching the flesh and birds that congregate to sing, as if offering their songs for consideration to Marina as she works on her with her laptop and headphones. I think it’s supposed to be calming - at least that's what she says. "The sun's early morning warmth and sweet bird song are all I need to recharge my heart when I'm feeling down or burnt out" was her answer when I asked her once. Not that I meant to, the question just found its way from my head and out through my mouth to Marina. "Oh! And my Pearlie! Nothing else works quite like her when it comes to recharging my heart" she would add with a coy smile pressing one hand against her cheek.

I want to break the whole thing. Kick my legs out at it and flail my arms until one or the other breaks.

My head often fills with sudden impulses like that. Even when I see Pearl and Marina cosy-up with each other, all I can do is fake a smile and try not to wrest my tentacles from my mantle. Not that I have anything against them, my emotions just go from zero to one hundred with only enough time for me to pretend they don't exist. I've never acted out of turn though, I've managed to resist these compulsions for now. Though, when my mind isn't preoccupied with something else, or when I'm not kept busy, I'm constantly bombarded from the inside like this. It gets worse. This next bit is very tough for me, I don't want to admit it’s going on. I can hardly bring myself to believe it’s real. I'm haunted by a phantom. Not a phantom of the gloopy life form that inhabited the telephone, but of the train. When I close my eyes and silence is all I hear, the distant chug of the train rolls in from the darkness. The darkness itself soon bares arrival to the train's headlights. The long hallways of Pearl and Marina's grand design does nothing to abide this presence either. At night, I see the train pull past the far end of the hallways. The sleek finished double wooden doors around the house shift their state to better resemble the automatic doors of the deep-sea metro's carts when I'm on my own and no one else can see. The normal relationship of commuter and public transport has been spun on its head and the train awaits my arrival, with this house the station - or perhaps, more specifically, the destination. Trying to reconcile these thoughts cuts me deep to my core. I have no sense of previously established sense of self to draw from and explain my own thoughts logically thereby. Where there may once have been a 'me' is lost and replaced by the mess I am now. This new me that I am now has lost something far more integral to my being than the difference in the change of my surroundings. It is as though I left behind all my personal belongings on the station when I boarded the train, or left them on the train when I alighted the station. Which way around is it? I cannot possibly tell.

I let Pearl and Marina know I would be stepping out the rest of the day, to get some air and explore around. Pearl had some business in the city that evening and insisted I join her on her way down if I was going that direction. Since it would be no imposition on her driver to have me as an extra passenger, I took her up on her offer. A launch event for a line of Camp Triggerfish camping gear, clothes and various other sundries was being held at The Reef. Since Camp Triggerfish was owned by Pearl's family, it was her idea to hold a wild launch party with live performance from Off the Hook. In the end, she had to settle for much more tame press event purely for publicity sake. Canopies and expensive champagne would be the height of the festivities to encourage favourable write ups. While it may just be purely circumstantial, Pearl was certainly much more active and busier than her impression gives off, so this half-hour at most car journey would be the most time I've spent in her company just the two of us. It was a little hard to tell if Pearl felt as anxious about this as I was, but the thought of visit Inkopolis gave me an opportunity to act on one of my impulsive thoughts that a little awkwardness wouldn't be too hard to put up with. Thankfully, Pearl is just as surprisingly comfortable to be around.

"You know, my Dad has a few empty condos not too far the pad now that we could set you up in" Pearl could tell I had something on my mind and, as outlandish as her lifestyle is, her offer was completely genuine and considerate to me.

"Wow, thank you. Honestly. But I'll have to pass up on such an offer. Not that I want to reject all your generosity, I just had something smaller in mind. Something more quaint" Sitting next to Pearl on the leather seats, absentmindedly stroking the fabric upholstery in Pearl's chauffeur driven limousine it wasn't hard to imagine how it was possible that she just offer up a condo space for me so easily.  

At home Pearl is a little slobbish, unkempt and sometimes disastrous when it comes to household chores, but here in the car's atmosphere she cuts a much more refined figure. It was as though she could flip a literal switch that turned her from an unruly child to a sophisticated and responsible adult. I was about to ask after her father's work when she leaned over to the window on my side and redirected my attention. "Check it! The ocean. It's for real mad, yo!"  

Without time to breakdown what she was saying, I looked outside to see the cliffs break to reveal the ocean that expanded across the horizon. "Mad" I found myself repeating. The sight was gorgeous. The ocean could be seen from Pearl's place but the cliff edges were a little further on so the view was always a little oblique. I had yet to return to Inkopolis since moving in with Pearl and Marina so this was an entirely new vista for me. The sun reflected so large on the ocean with waves' ripples further imposing its size. To the east the tall skyscrapers of Inkopolis also made their presence on the ocean's surface known too by cast an equally impressive reflection. Driving down from the hillside also brought into view the harbour opposite the mainland of Inkopolis. It was this harbour from which we bested Tar-Tar and the weaponised statue. The partially recognisable head of the statue that remained mostly sunken beneath the ocean would soon come into view, and so too would the memories of the fight. The sky rails. The bombs from the helicopter. Pearl's heroic roar. The throbbing of my hearts.

"You can see it, yeah, the head?" Pearl broke the silence and my intense stare relaxed, but my eyes still remained fixed.

"I wonder if anyone else really know what happened" I took a deep breath then breathed out. Pearl sat back in her seat contemplating how to answer. No, was the obvious answer, but I think my question had an extra layer to it that we both knew to be there, hidden underneath.

"Perhaps someone else saw it. Perhaps a few. It was such a big to-do and we got so caught up in focusing on what we had to do that we could have had a large cheering crowd before us and we didn't notice"

"It wouldn't have been at all like you to miss out on a chance to put on a show for them" I surprised myself by saying something like that so casually.

"Hey! What do you think my scream was for? I can only hope they boo-yah'd back!" Pearl and I shared a good chuckle.

Spending time with Pearl on the car journey into Inkopolis was a lot more rewarding than I imagined. I actually felt somewhat embarrassed being so initially pensive, but I think Pearl understands me a whole lot more than she lets on. Soon the car drove through the harbour and across the long bridge over the ocean into Inkopolis proper. Showing further her ability to intuit me, or at least the mood, Pearl instructed the driver to stop the car and let me out after we finished our cresting the bridge. I thanked Pearl for bringing and for the pleasant journey. It was probably unnecessary to say that second part out loud, my mouth had gotten the better of me. Pearl shrugged it and, before closing the door and zooming off to prepare for her event this evening, she gave made me one more offer.

"The thing at the Reef tonight, come to it if you want. Sorry I didn't remember to invite you sooner. Just say you're on the guest list!" She closed the door and waved to me from inside the window, at some point she managed to put on a pair of dark sunglasses without me noticing. Pearl rode off without telling me a specific time for the launch party and smile played its way on my face. That was more along the lines of what I expected from Pearl. Nonetheless, I was now in Inkopolis. I felt empowered. I felt like was finally taking my own lead again. But my mind soon grew blank. Where was I going? No, that's not quite right. I knew where I wanted to go, I'm just hesitating. There was only one place I felt drawn. I had to shift the balance, put it right again. I had to go to underground, back to the deep-sea Metro.  

[perinferiadastra]

The fourth piece of my collection. This is my thanks to @angrymintghost for running the @ghostbcsecretsanta event and for betaing my work. 💙 Thank you again for all of your patience, kind words, encouragement, and for being so lovely. I hope this piece will be enjoyable.

Characters: Swiss Ghoul, all the Nameless Ghouls, Cardinal Copia, and a surprise appearance...

Warnings: No warning applies.

Rating: General.

Word Count: 2019.

Summary: The snow that fell around the Clergy stirs an echo of youth, half-buried in years of memories but easily brought to the surface by one mischievous Ghoul.

The chirp in his ear woke Swiss up. Not violently, not like the wretched alarm they kept on their tour bus was prone to do, causing many of them to smack their heads against the bunk above them even a year into their tour. This was a soft wake-up, akin to lazy summer mornings when the sun would stream in through the cracks of the curtains and pull him out of his slumber little by little. The arms of Morpheus retracted similarly, and gave way to the entanglement of limbs that formed the cuddle pile of the Ghouls, the warmth threatening to lull him back to sleep. It took him several minutes to gather the strength to pull himself up and out of the nest, purring softly to quieten the displeased noises of the others as they continued to rest.

On his way out he stopped to tuck them in, the blankets having been thrown haphazardly during the night by their moving limbs. The sight of his sleeping friends never failed to amuse him, even the more energetic ones of the lot becoming calm and carefree, their frowns giving way to contentment. This did not mean they were off limits in the middle of their prank wars, if the doodles he and Dewdrop were prone to leave on each other were any indication. The two were in the middle of a truce for the winter holidays, though, so Dewdrop remained unscathed as Swiss tucked him in, pulling the blanket away from where it had become caught on his broken horn.

Stepping into the shower was one of life’s little joys, Swiss mused. It helped that he could now enjoy a shower cabin larger than the ones of their hotels - while they were spacious enough when they had mortals in mind, when the Ghouls’ tail was added into the mix he found the showers the Clergy had provided them with were much more comfortable. Hot water poured steadily and washed away the dust, glitter, and other pieces of evidence of last night’s party, leading them down the drain and leaving him with only his memories as reminders of the events. The steam rose up, mist forming on the surface of the shower cabin and allowing Swiss to doodle shapes idly as he allowed the water to further detense his muscles, still relaxed from sleep but carrying the exhaustion of yesterday and the accumulated weariness of a year of touring.

Eventually emerging from the warmth and getting dressed in cosy clothes, Swiss headed towards the cafeteria, fully intent on treating himself to a deliciously unhealthy breakfast. After having two servings packed up, he headed towards the Cardinal’s office, curious to see how the return to the Clergy was treating him. They had become quite close during the Band Project, as individuals sharing close quarters every day for a year were prone to do. Swiss enjoyed the playful banter he shared with Copia, and had a teasing greeting on his lips as he entered the office. The tone was set and carried on for the duration of their meal, Copia sharing some insight regarding Nihil and Imperator in regards to the previous evening’s merriment. Gossip, though common in their Church and easily spread, was always better from inside sources, and Swiss delighted in the first-hand recounting of the events from a mortal perspective.

Time passed, though the Ghoul would hardly have noticed if not for the interruption of a member of the Clergy bringing in Copia’s paperwork for the day. They parted with ease, their conversation coming to a close, and Swiss headed back to the cafeteria to grab snacks for the other Ghouls. On the way back, he hummed lightly, stepping outside as he moved between buildings. The winter sun was high upon the sky, causing him to close his eyes against the light, head tipped back and enjoying the light breeze of the morning, a pleasant change from the biting frost they had been experiencing for a while now. He could hear the little Ghouls playing in the snow close by, their laughter an echo of that of his friends’ many years back, trading snowballs between lessons, not a care in the cocoon of their world, so far away from the present and yet so close within reach, ready to be grasped and brought back.

It gave Swiss an idea, and everyone had grown to know early on that Swiss having ideas almost inevitably resulted in a steep descent into chaos. Keeping the appearance of a calm, collected Ghoul by emulating Mountain as much as he was able to, Swiss returned to the nest, where the rest of his friends were showing signs of stirring from their sleep. Setting down the snacks on one of the tables, he stepped over their forms with practised ease, dodging their tails on his way to the curtains. He slowly moved the fabric aside, the light causing several grumbles to emerge from the pile, though he did not bother to attempt to figure out their sources as a pillow came flying in his direction. Swiss grabbed the makeshift projectile in midair before setting it aside, stopping himself from flinging it back as his instinct dictated.

“Rise and shine, sleepyheads,” Swiss said, heading back over to the snacks and selecting a few, bringing them within the reach of his band-mates. A tried and true technique, it caused several limbs to emerge from the blankets and blindly grab at the proffered food before vanishing in the pile once more. Over the next few minutes the rest of the Ghouls woke up, emerging and greeting Swiss, though greeting was more of a loose term that stood for ‘questioned him as to why he was awake at such an infernal hour.’ All this he brushed off and waited for them to go through their respective morning routines, gently chirping at them when they were being too slow for his liking.

More amused than confused by Swiss’ behaviour, the others complied, though teasing him by dragging their feet and munching slower than they normally would. Swiss had always been full of life, his energy feeding their own. His knack for mischief had often caused him to be singled out and removed from the rest, but he had always taken it in stride and his friends loved him all the more for it, doing their best to minimise the distance. Despite spending nearly every day together, they hated the setup of the stage sometimes, an extra, unnecessary gap so very reminiscent of the rows of desks their superiors would put between them and Swiss during their lessons. Seeing him so excited, his tail flicking wildly despite his attempts of stoicism, removed their grouchiness for being woken up and fuelled the group for what was starting to look like a long day ahead of them.

Dressed warmly at his request - though ‘behest’ would be more suitable, considering Swiss had taken to wrapping scarves and coats around them, as if he were decorating a tree the way mortals tended to do around this time of the year - the Ghouls stepped outside and breathed in the cold air, the freshness of it removing the last of the sleep from their eyes, the last of the grains brought by the Sandman during the night cracking and falling away. The little Ghouls had left, likely brought indoors by their caretakers out of concern that they would catch a cold. They were far more resilient than mortals, but even they could get sick, and the band-mates knew from personal experience how unpleasant ill Ghouls could get.

Evidence remained of the little ones’ playtime, snow figures littering the landscape of the vast courtyard and trailing off towards the woods as far as they had dared to venture. The snowballs that had not broken up upon contact with solid surfaces were spread around the area, and some were still unused, stacked in piles of precarious balance. The sun hadn’t managed to melt much, the cold preserving both the shapes the little Ghouls had moulded the snow into and the ice that covered the ground, hidden by a thin layer of snow in some places and cleared out on the natural slopes of the landscape, undoubtedly having acted as slides for the young ones.

While the other Ghouls were busy taking it all in, Swiss made a valiant effort to sneak a few paces away and scoop up one of the snowballs from the piles. He would’ve likely succeeded, had he not slipped on the ice, ending up face-first in a snowbank, his legs kicking wildly in order to free himself. After the band stopped laughing long enough to help him out, this served as the start of a snow day, the group acting as they hadn’t done in what seemed like ages, even the more mature of their members, like Rain and Mountain, partaking in the fun with the same glee they had in their younger years, at one point shoving snow down the back of Aether and Dewdrop’s coats in retaliation for the snowballs that had landed in their ears.

Their laughter rang out loud and clear, enough to draw an audience, distracting members of the Clergy and Siblings of Sin from their tasks as they moved between the buildings, causing most to step away in order to avoid becoming involved in their play fighting, and a few brave ones to join in. Word got around, as it tended to, and Copia was notified, stepping outside a few hours later to bear witness to the result of the chaos. The Cardinal was greeted by the sight of his Ghouls laying down on the ground, still giggling, an odd sound that he rarely heard from them. They were clearly worn out, and he could see their chests heaving as they drew breath.

Noticing him, they sat up, looking for all the world like they had been caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar. They all sported matching grins, the sharpness of their fangs evident in the slowly fading light. The snow clung to their lashes, and caught the light of the soft inner glow of their eyes, dispersing it subtly, like miniature crystals, precious discoveries if one knew to look for them. Shaking his head fondly, Copia approached his band-mates, setting his hands upon his hips upon reaching them. Before he could so much as say a word, Swiss and Dewdrop stuck their tongues out in unison, startling a laugh out of the Cardinal, and causing the rest to resume their own sounds of amusement, oddly reminiscent of the tinkling of bells in the wind.

Photos were not usually taken around their Clergy, the Ghouls being often unmasked on the premises and the risk of the images reaching the masses being far too great to be left to chance. In that moment, however, the Third Papa snapped a picture on his phone, having followed the commotion for the past hour from a window upstairs. The Papa had been on his way to visit Nihil when he heard the loud noises from outside, and stopped to watch the lot, amused by it and by seeing his own former band-mate in this setting. The Third thought it rather sweet, and as he eventually left after texting Copia the image, he changed his trajectory, heading instead towards the building of his other former band-mates, spending an evening with his own family of Ghouls.

It turned out that the Papa had had the perfect vantage point for the group photo that would become the favourite of those within the frame, private and only known to themselves, a moment in time captured and preserved, a memory within a bottle that they could uncork at any time in order to bring back the feelings within. The Ghouls, now joined by Copia after much cajoling on their part, settled down in their nest once more as the day came to a close, shaking off the cold of the day through their shared warmth. It was with familiar, contented chirps that Swiss drifted off to sleep.

[joonsgalaxy]

a timely malfunction

pairing: taehyung x reader (gender neutral)

genre/au: fluff, time travel, friends to lovers

words: 2,9k

prompt: 17  “What? No, I never said that.”  requests

As your little brother would most likely say—this is hella awkward. And, quite frankly, out of all the expressions in this wide world this one fits the situation the best. The air that hangs heavily above the tiny round table holds a palpable tension between you and Taehyung. The short glances that are exchanged between you two are full of unspoken spitefulness and accusations, mostly from your side.

You'd think the insignificant conversations with Jihyo would help, but it's quite the opposite—it only annoys you even further. You shouldn't have agreed to this brunch, but you‘re only now realizing the fact and, ironically, you can't turn back time and make up some excuse not to go.

At least the weather is delightful. The sun is kissing your skin pleasantly, birds are chirping their gleeful melodies, and the scent of the light breeze is whispering about the forthcoming summer.

However, as you shift in your seat the sun is not the one to be held culpable for the rather uncomfortable warmth within you. The awareness of Taehyung's presence mere few feet away from you is what makes your blood thicken and simmer. Not in a good way.

Just a few days ago Jihyo told you something really unpleasant. Something about you that was originally uttered by Taehyung.

With your arms crossed, body sinking back into your seat, you try to ignore all of that as best you can.

You let yourself enjoy the almost stinging brightness that the sun provides to your closed eyelids as you tilt back your head.

The sound of cars whooshing past you in the street never fails to calm your nerves. The clicking of high heels and softer thuds of boots against pavement create a melodic rhythm that simultaneously reminds you of a bustling city and brings you to some place that's deeply serene and comforting. The chatter of people passing by forces your mind into other worlds, other people's lives and conversations. You nearly forget where you actually are. With whom you actually are.

Except Jihyo’s voice slams you back into your reality. Back to the protracted brunch that seems to never end.

Still, you keep your eyes closed.

‘Mm,’ she hums, mouth full of her sandwich. ‘Seriously, the best sandwich on earth.’

Perhaps you could say the same about yours, but you scarcely touched it. You don't feel particularly hungry.

Taehyung's voice is the reason you unwillingly open your eyes. He says your name.

You blink at him, squinting. ‘What?’

‘I got...’ he begins. His eyes skid toward Jihyo as if to make sure she's more into her sandwich than whatever he's about to tell you. He chooses his words carefully, ‘I received a message.’

Every syllable of the last word held a secret only you two knew.

You mull it over for a quick second. Choose to blatantly ignore him, at least for now.

‘Jihyo,’ you gleefully turn to your friend. She happily sets down her sandwich, clearly enjoying seeing your mood brighten up. If only it were real.

Taehyung, obviously, sees through your mask and heaves a sigh.

‘So,’ you decide to make small talk with Jihyo. ‘How's your wolf doing?’

Her eyes light up joyfully—you finally seem interested in conversing with her.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Taehyung draw his attention to the smart watch on his wrist.

Jihyo’s mouth opens to tell you all about her precious pet—the majestic snowy white wolf—when suddenly... all of you feel the ominous, yet highly familiar vibration under your feet. All of your gazes jump toward the cups on the table. The liquid is rippling in tiny waves as though somebody were continuously hitting the wooden table in a steady rhythm. Thump. Thump. Thump.

‘Oh not again,’ Jihyo exclaims and jumps to her feet, strangely both terrified and annoyed. You relate, though.

‘It‘s the third time this month,‘ she tells you, hurriedly gathering her stuff, ‘And it's only the sixth of May!‘

Taehyung and you quickly glance at each other and leap to your feet as well.

Your heart's hammering faster already; the adrenaline starts to kick in.

The good thing is, the world's most awkward brunch has been interrupted and now you have other things to worry about. The not so good thing is… there are other things you have to worry about.

‘See you tomorrow!’ Jihyo‘s words come out rushed as she starts toward south. She adds over her shoulder, ‘If we stay alive that is.’

You'll probably never get used to this.

Now that you and Taehyung are left standing there rather awkwardly, he throws his thumb over one of his own shoulders, motioning toward the end of the street, where your house sits. ‘We should...‘

‘Yeah, we should,’ is your response.

You both gather your stuff just like Jihyo did—Taehyung tears his jacket from the back of the chair, you scoop your mobile phone up from the surface of the tiny table.

You consider grabbing your avocado sandwich too, but end up deciding against it.

There are piercing honks of cars, a few screeches of people mingling with them as you jog with Taehyung by your side.

You've been in this version of your lives for almost a month now, but you still haven't got used to how everything works here.

This kind of “glitch”—as your employer referred to it—has never happened to you before in your entire time travelling career of two years.

Usually, you go back in time with your partner, having a task to change something small yet significant to someone’s life, then go back to the exact second you left in the present.

The things you change don’t have a direct impact on you or Taehyung, or the team that made the time travelling possible.

Clients—that have some kind of regrets from the past haunting them—can’t be trusted with the device that lets you go back in time. There’s a risk of them going reckless, having that kind of power, whereas you go there with the sole purpose of changing what you were told to change. No less, no more. A trained professional, secretly showing clients important signs that guide them toward certain directions in their life situations.

However, this time ended up being different. After finishing your task you came back to the present like always, yet there was some kind of malfunctioning—a major one—in the process. It changed everything. And when you came back, you scarcely could recognize the world.

The sight on the street is a great example of the oddness.

An old yet excessively fancy looking carriage's wheels are slowly rolling across the asphalt as the two horses in front of it shakily trot with freaked out looks in their eyes. Behind that very carriage is inching forward the most expensive and innovative Porsche you've ever seen. The car's horn is harshly blaring for half the town to hear.

A newspaper reporter is taking pictures of people running to their shelters. There are probably a hundred headlines running through his clever mind as the rather well defined muscles in his arms strain in the process of holding the camera steadily. And the struggle is understandable since the camera seems to be from an era, where people didn't even know the word “movies”. You guess it could weigh approximately 8 pounds.

And the strangest, most petrifying thing of all is—you're running to your place to hide from dinosaurs! Forests trampling, houses crushing, humans eating, utterly terrifying, life size dinosaurs!

What could be crazier than that?

For this exact reason you are getting out of breath, the fear stomping on your lungs.

Conveniently enough everyone has their own bunkers in their backyard, where they can hide. The bunkers can hold up to twenty tonnes atop themselves, if there should be the need.

And conveniently—or not—Taehyung and you are forced to sprint toward the same bunker, because apparently you two are a couple that lives together now.

You have no idea why people have regular houses near their shelters, for they could get easily crushed by the dinosaurs; but here, in this time and place, everything seems to make sense for everybody even though you tend to have lots of unspoken questions.

Catching your breath you both stride past your neighbour’s house—an enormous mansion with thick columns that make your house look two times smaller than it already is.

You reach the shelter in your own backyard. Taehyung punches in the code and holds the door for you. Still breathing quite heavily, you mumble a tiny thanks and take the stairs down to the cosy living area.

Once the doors are closed, the air seems eerily quiet down there.

The cube is fairly deep into the ground, but as the dinosaurs get closer and closer the floor still mildly vibrates beneath your feet so you make yourself comfortable on the couch to feel safer.

Taehyung‘s footsteps thud against the floor and echo between the thick walls. He strolls to the fridge; a sound of glass clacking reaches your ears as Taehyung grabs a couple of cold beer bottles.

You fold your arms against your chest as if shielding yourself from his charms that work very well on you when you two are alone. Even if he isn't quite aware of that.

‘What‘s the occasion?’ You try your best to sound uninterested.

Taehyung sets one of the bottles for you on the table, settles himself into the other couch in front of you.

His beer hisses when he flicks the cap off with an ease.

Taehyung's hand holds the opener above the table, waits for you to snatch it, but you never do, your eyes reluctant to gaze at his direction. He heaves a sigh and switches the bottles.

‘I‘ll tell you the good news,’ he begins, the other bottle—originally yours, now his—hissing for a quick second, ‘When you tell me what's up with you.’

You take in a steadying breath. ‘I don't know what you're talking about.’

‘Oh come on. You've been avoiding me for the past three days. Always eyeing me as if I was some kind of a criminal. Much like you're doing now.’

You scoff. ‘Am not.’

Taehyung seems incredulous. ‘Uh-ha.’

He settles back into the couch, props his feet onto the table, beer in hand. The opener sits still on the table patiently. Just like your bottle of beer.

‘You‘ve been like this only around me,’ he muses. ‘So it has to be something I did.’

‘Don't flatter yourself. You're not that important.’

‘Ouch.’

The ground shakes a little stronger. The bottle opener rattles against the wooden table, making sharp quick clanking sounds. A dinosaur must be precisely atop the bunker or somewhere extremely close.

You refuse to meet Taehyung's hard gaze.

‘I could try and guess,’ he says, ‘But for some reason I think that'd be only a waste of time. Why don't you make it easier for the both of us? Stop that silence treatment and start talking like a grown up.’

A grown up?

His words uttered by your friend to you are coming back at you with full force, slapping you in the face and making your blood boil.

That's it. You snap. ‘Oh now you wanna talk to me?’ You fix your gaze upon his confused eyes. ‘Even though I'm extremely annoying, I don't wash the dishes and you're thinking of breaking up with me? You said it yourself,’ you add, when his face shows utter perplexity.

The second all that burst out of you is the exact moment you feel regret wash over you.

Mortification strikes you.

Why the hell did you tell him all of this?

Damn it.

‘What?’ Taehyung gives you a look of sheer bewilderment. ‘No.’

His feet jump down to the floor; his body leans closer to the table. ‘I never said that.’

You’re not able to hold his gaze, when a moment later he breathes out an oh upon realization.

Embarrassment rushes instantaneously toward your every cell, coating your bones and seeping into them.

It’s suddenly a little hot. You start craving that cold beer on the table.

‘It wasn’t me.’

You’re aware of that. You know that you’re being irrational and silly, punishing Taehyung and yourself for something you both didn’t exactly had influence on.

‘Well, technically it was me,’ he corrects himself. His voice is deep, his tone soft, careful. ‘But this version of me grew up differently. Nothing here makes sense, can’t you see?’

‘I know. This is stupid. I’m stupid.’

Taehyung sets his bottle down, clasps his hands atop the table. ‘You’re not stupid. Can I ask you why did this affect you that much?’

You suck in a breath to calm yourself, feel it sooth your jittery nerves, then release it.

Honesty seems the best policy, because hiding stuff from Taehyung has never had a great outcome before.

‘Maybe because I believed those words? That you genuinely think that way about me.’

‘That you don’t do the dishes?’ A ghost of a smile tugs at Taehyung’s lips; his eyes are warm and friendly.

You pout slightly, clarifying, ‘That I’m annoying, and that you—

You don’t really intend to finish the sentence, because it’s simply ridiculous.

You wish you have acted normal these past few days instead of trying to ignore him. You wish you didn’t have to face his questions right now.

Taehyung delicately scoffs in what appears to be disbelief, ‘Annoying…’ The look in his eyes shifts to a colder one, as if judging his own self. ‘That’s not a solid enough reason to— I’m such an idiot in this reality.’

His acknowledgment has a comforting effect on you. Maybe only the other version of him would break up with you; perhaps the Taehyung you know would never treat you like—

Why are you even thinking about this? You’re not actually a couple, and you never will be.

Once you come back to the original reality you two will resume your not-so-close relationship that could easily be approved by any committee of work ethics.

You feel the need to explain yourself to him as to why this all affected you. ‘You know, I was wondering. If being a couple didn’t work out for us, then maybe we’re not that good at being co-workers too.’

‘Don’t be silly, we have a great dynamic.’ Taehyung narrows his eyes a little, tilts his head to the side. ‘Is that the real reason you were upset?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Is it really just because of work?’ He clarifies, with a smirk plastering his face.

It’s getting hotter again. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘Because you’re into me.’ His eyes glimmer in amusement and confidence, lips stretching into a smile that says “gotcha!”.

Your mouth goes dry. Would it look suspicious to snatch that bottle up and take a long chug of your beer right now? ‘Pfft. Yeah. Right. Haha.’

‘No. Really.’ Taehyung interrupts your nervous glancing around the room. ‘I need to know.’ His face grows more serious, eyes emanating… hopefulness? Just a teeny tiny bit of hopefulness that compels you to remember the phrase again. Honesty is the best policy.

‘Okay,’ you tentatively murmur. ‘You got me.’

Taehyung softly gasps. ‘Oh shit, really?’

You can’t quite decipher his expression. Is it a good oh shit, really? or a bad one?

You start to regret confessing, shifting in your seat awkwardly.

He picks up on that and hurriedly makes an attempt to reassure you, ‘This is actually awesome.’

Your puzzled eyes lock with his. Awesome?

Taehyung slumps into the couch, head tilting heavenward. His fingers absently dance atop his thighs as a relieved sigh escapes his lungs. ‘To be honest, this was a timely glitch, because I’ve been wondering about us a lot. And the moment I realized we’ll be spending more time together I was like yes! I can finally find out if you like me back.’

‘Back?’

He nods, meeting your surprised gaze. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t realize I had a crush on you.’

How were you supposed to realize? Was he trying to show you his feelings? Has he been giving you hints without you noticing them? You can’t believe you’ve been that oblivious to Taehyung’s attraction toward you.

A familiar high pitched beep announces the receiving of a message to Taehyung’s watch.

‘Oh, right.’ He glances at it, glides a fingertip across its tiny screen. ‘The good news,’ he says with a smile. ‘They’ve figured a way to go back to our original present.’

You’re lucky that your employer had decided to become a scientist in this version too. Otherwise, who knows, maybe you’d have been doomed to stay here with those dinosaurs, nearly flying cars, old cameras, and only one house for you and Taehyung to live in, which hmm… maybe wouldn’t even have been that bad?

‘He transferred the fixed updates into the watch.’ Taehyung’s hand reaches out over the table.

The first rule of time travel: you must be touching the person possessing the watch, if you want to travel with them.

You take his hand without a second thought.

Taehyung’s finger hovers above the watch as his grin evokes the flutter of your heart. His tone is dripping with content when he speaks. ‘Once we’re back, we’ll talk about us more.’

 <3

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[vermiculus-incipiens]

OOC INFORMATION:

What's your name? Elm.

Preferred pronouns: She/hers.

Timezone: CET (CEST during summer).

IC INFORMATION:

Character Name: Sirius III Orion Black.

What's a hobby or pastime that your character enjoys? The pulse beating hard as the sweat runs down your neck, lungs aching for air, your steps only guided by the moonshine; in the darkness, everything can be a foe, a friend, and the rush of adrenaline of the potential threat makes Sirius feel alive, makes his ever present-fears and high alert reasonable, for a change. The roaring of the engine, straddling the beauty, spoiled with time and money. Freedom, his mind screams as he takes to the roads, soaring in every twist of the road, feeling like gravity wants to pull him off the road. And that pleasant surge of… feelings; fear, happiness, freedom again, when the wheels lift, and he takes to the air, the sky above. Anything's possible, then, in the company of the stars, and he's one of them. Despite what they say, and as they'd always had said. Books weren't a thing that Remus had introduced in Sirius's life; he had often loved browsing the rows of bookshelves in the library back in the house he had spent his childhood. The titles, the covers of the books always held so much mystery, so much potential. Adventures inspire dangerous thoughts, ideas and philosophies to nurture them. Of course, Orion and Walburga hadn't housed books that rallied in defence of the Muggles and the marginalised but reading about how purists wanted the world to behave, indeed, helped create a rebel. Sirius likes books, still. Pamphlets penned by rebels and activists, stories about the bleakness of the world, the injustice, but he equally loved the fiction, the adventures, the classics. When his mind allows him the peace to sit down, it never really does. Drawing, then. It lets his energy out through the movements of his hand, yet it requires the form of attention that Sirius desires, that kind of where he just gets wrapped up in something and forget about anything else but to be in the here and now. His running and motorcycling do that, yes, but not in the same tranquil triumph of drawing, of finishing a piece.

Do you have any preferred ships or anti-ships? Ships I can name that I like are Sirius/Remus and James/Sirius. However, I'm open-minded. I am open to the possibility of any ship, no matter gender and sex, and I do not have any known anti-ships.

What do you think your character's Boggart would be? If their greatest fear isn't something that could easily take a solid form, what is it? Why? A gravestone with James Potter carved into it. That is Sirius's fear. He is not having James in his life. It's possibly quite possessive, and it is very unhealthy, his dependency on James. But James, James brought life. Who would Sirius be if he hadn't met James? James showed him what unconditional love is and how a healthy home life looks. James made it possible for Sirius to turn into the person he wanted instead of the statue his parents had tried to chisel him into. So a life without James? Sirius can hardly picture it. No, that's not true; he can picture it. Does it often. Imagines how he would find out James had died on a mission or been hunted down or that James would tire of Sirius and his moods, his inability to become this good, righteous person that he and Remus were, that he wouldn't be able to cope anymore with Sirius' addictions and traumas and the various ways they manifest themselves. The absence of James, then, more than some finite gravestone. James exists in his memories, only.

What's your character's biggest pet peeve? People assuming that they know him or that they are friends. Sirius has an outgoing, easygoing personality. He likes to chat and have fun, but just because you are one of the pub mates or someone Sirius talks to doesn't mean that you know him or are friends. Relationships are something Sirius isn't good at all, neither handling them, maintaining them or accepting them and letting them get close. He's very ambivalent about the relationships in his life, and the only friends he acknowledges as thus are the Marauders and Lily. All the other people in his life? Well, they are… people in his life. Terms such as friendship or lovers are just too much, making stuff real and scary and bothersome. He also dislikes when people assume to know who he is simply by the name he bears.

What would you consider to be an eccentricity of your character? Sirius deviates from the established pattern or norm in that he tries to unsubscribe from the norms of society. It isn't easy, especially when it comes to matters like purity and superiority and the importance of your family name, but more manageable when it comes to other things. In today's terms, Sirius would probably label himself as pansexual, genderfluid and/or non-binary. Sirius doesn't care about your sex and gender, but your heart, soul and brain and he can't understand why certain clothes or hobbies or mannerisms should only be worn/done/acted by men or women. Sirius certainly would have been part of the flower power movement if he had been a teen and young adult in the '60s. Why shouldn't he be able to wear that skirt, or have flowers in his hair, or paint his nails, or use makeup? What's wrong with shagging a bloke or loving him, or a girl, or multiple people at once? Gender is a social construct, don't you know.

What is/was your character's favorite subject in school? Why? Transfiguration, because Professor McGonagall became a sort of mother figure for him, and he liked the challenges of transfiguration and the brain work it required. Charms, because it was fun and whimsical yet complex to keep his interest. Care of Magical Creatures because it was outdoors, practical, and a 'nonsense' subject that had irked his parents he had picked instead of something more beneficial.

What time of day is your character's favorite? What time of year? Dawn, because the troubles of the night are being chased away, and before him, an unkissed promise is blossoming. Sirius likes most of the seasons for what they are. Although summers are still tainted by the anxiousness of returning to the house for many years, it is also the buzzing, giddy sense of freedom, life ahead, and camaraderie and acceptance. But autumn is possibly the one Sirius enjoys the most. It's something comforting and reassuring with the world preparing to go to sleep only to blossom come spring, and besides being the time he, at last, went back to Hogwarts, he likes the cosiness of it. Tea and blankets and the rain is chattering on the windows. The crisp air, the colours. The feeling that you're about to keep walking down the path where you, at last, will find the life you're seeking to live.

What's your character's Patronus? If they can't conjure one, what would it be if they could? Why? A big, black dog, like his animagi form.

What is your character's biggest vice (bad habit or immoral craving)? Oh, what isn't. Substance abuse, arrogance, prejudice, black&white worldview, rashness to the point of danger for him and/or others, a streak of cruelty and coldness and not caring what happens to relationships and people, hot-tempered, selfish to a degree.

Is your character an introvert or extrovert? How well do they handle social situations? Sirius is an extrovert. Since childhood, he has been trained to be able to socialise, carry conversations, and be a good representative as the heir of the Black house. Luckily for him, he wasn't an introvert forced to be a people person; Sirius was born an extrovert. He handles loneliness poorly, yet he craves it as he oft pushes people away that gets too close. He is the one that wants to spend all the time with you to the point you tire and enjoy some alone time. He is scared of abandonment and becomes too clingy and invested in the few relationships he cares about. Sirius always has no problems being social around the clock; he can be charming, fun, and charismatic. You have a higher chance of getting that good side if he wants you to have that experience.

What is your character's diet like? What's his or her favorite food? Oh, piss poor. Sirius has never had to learn to cook for himself. At home, they had the house-elves, at school, they had the house-elves, when he lived with the Potters, well, they had Mrs. Potter (and house-elves, if they had them). He ate reasonably well back then, but his diet went to hell as soon as he got his flat from the inheritance when he was 17. A cig and a coffee for breakfast, and often that could be pretty much it for the day. If it isn't, it's takeaways or dinner at the pubs and restaurants or perhaps a toast or two at home. He loves the Sunday roasts at the Potters, and he misses the Beef Wellington and Trifles from home.

How do you think your character's psychological issues have manifested and changed your character up to this point? Sirius has always lived with psychological issues. Sirius's disorganised attachment to his parents growing up has shaped Sirius and his changes up to adulthood. Sirius has always felt anxiety during mellow, peaceful moments and usually tends to busy himself to push away the problematic emotions he doesn't want to deal with. He tends to feel sad and empty even though James and the Marauders show their support and love for him. Sirius doesn't trust easily and is hyper-vigilant about his surroundings, another reason he has such trouble relaxing. He has a tendency to be drawn to harmful situations and bad people for the thrill. The rush of feeling alive and the relationships he has in various degrees of success has often been with other people with similar issues that can manage on their own and want to manage on their own and in that way doesn't have any demands on him. Closeness to Sirius has come to be connected with something dangerous, threatening due to him never knowing in what mood his parents would be and what emotions and reactions he would meet in his interactions with them. When he's facing similar situations now as an adult that feels similar to the experiences of his past, and it can suddenly feel not like a typical argument between two adults but flashbacks to his childhood, causing him to react in defence in the way he did as a child; rebellion, anger, coldness, withdrawal. Sirius often makes himself emotionally unavailable and has plenty of sexual contacts, be it temporary liaisons or longer relationships. Sirius hasn't changed but instead adopted the issues he's had to deal with since childhood. It's always been a part of him. He doesn't recognise his various coping mechanisms and the way he acts as something necessarily caused by his traumas and experiences throughout his life. His quick temper, his taste for recklessness, his desire to both be loved and be close to someone and push them away and emotionally shut down, his streaks of coldness and carelessness, his prejudices, his whole personality and worldview, it all has turned the way it has due to the life he has lived.

 Give us a headcanon for your character. Anything is acceptable. Sirius misses his family. He wishes that he could feel indifference towards them because that would mean he had no emotions invested at all in them any longer, but he doesn't. Anger and hatred, yes, but also longing, wistfulness, a bit of love, too. Growing up in the Black household was traumatic; it was full of superiority, blood purity, dark artefacts, and people not knowing how to express emotions and maintain relationships healthily. But they were also a family, a family unit. The best family, the Royals of the British Wizarding community. It was them against everyone else. And a mother's love towards her sons and a desire to make them as best as they could be in her mind. And a father whose approval and pride made you feel like you were tumbling in the night sky they all worshipped so much. Christmases with aunts and uncles and cousins and luxurious Christmas food, presents, and what felt like some warmth and love and doting underneath the scheming, the properness, the cold masks, the closed-off-ness so to be able to behave as one ought to, no matter if it was towards a child, family or the rest of society. Yes, Sirius misses it. Sometimes wonder if he indeed chose the right path; what would he have become if he hadn't willed the Sorting Hat to be placed in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin, the Hat's first suggestion? He would have been a Prince, but would he feel complete? Would he feel like he had found his place in the world? Would he feel not restless, for once?

[gloriousgardendonut]

Boats......

"Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats" - Ratty - Wind in the Willows. So we swapped the campervan for a boat  we have boated before in both cruisers and narrow boats and love it. In fact Simon has a long term plan to live on a boat…….oh as well as live in a mobile home…….oh and in a cottage that needs renovating……and finally on a plot of land where we actually build our house from scratch! We've boated before on the beautiful Norfolk Broads, once in summer, which is very busy, but amazing to see so many boats and once in Spring which was very quiet and more relaxing. We've also been on the Oxford Canal with the excitement of using locks but also the daily worry of not dropping the 'windlass' - that's the bit of equipment essential for opening the locks. We've also been on the Union Canal in Scotland via the engineering marvel that is the Falkirk Wheel - essentially a rotating boat lift that replaced a staircase of locks that took a lot of time and energy to navigate. Doing this in a barge was exciting and scary for those a little uncomfortable with heights. For this boat trip we started in Ely in Cambridgeshire with our boat hired from a boat yard on the Great River Ouse. Ely is a city but it feels like a market town. The cathedral is worth seeing inside and out, the architecture, paintings and fittings are spectacular. Only a short distance away from the centre is the river, which is a hive of activity for boaters and the locals. We spent a day and night in Ely walking along the river, site-seeing and trying the local bars and restaurants. We had one of those days when you blow the gap year budget because it's sunny, laid back and a relaxing place to be. We  made up for the little blow out by spending zilch for the following few days by staying on the boat and relying on the supplies from home - emergency pasta and gin cocktails (Portsmouth gin at that - a present from a friend on finishing work for the gap year - chin chin Jacque Ashton). The boat was a cruiser with two 'wee' cabins, one had seats and a mini kitchen and the other cabin had a bed a wash basin and separate compartment with shower and toilet. A tight space but palatial compared to the van. The compartments were separated by the central driving compartment, where we alternated the role of captain and ships mate throughout the week, although someone took the role of captain much more seriously than the other. The bed was a strange triangular shape with the head part under the bow of the boat (that's the front). On night one claustrophobia set in for me as the space was small, confined and difficult to get out of without doing a backflip. So whilst Simon stayed put, myself and the dog moved to the front compartment where you could convert the seats to two single beds. I had one, Skyler had the other…..until about 5am when Skyler decided he'd jump onto mine and we'd share - a tight squeeze but there's nothing quite as nice as a doggy spooning you. For a week we cruised at 4-7 miles an hour along the River Great Ouse and its tributaries the Little Ouse, Wissey, Lark and Brandon Creek. We also went along The Cam where you can go as far as Cambridge, but we had decided not to visit the bigger towns or cities on this particular trip. Boating is best enjoyed if you sit back and just watch the views go by. As a commuter I spend 2-3 hours a day travelling along the motorways and busy roads of Lancashire, often on autopilot with the main objective of getting from A to B as quickly as possible; A and B being home and work. I spend little time taking in the scenery as a matter of safety. With a small boat it's very different,  there's not a lot you can do other than chill out and spend a lot of time looking at the scenery. Once you do that you begin to see in great detail the views, the wildlife and nature in action. Swans teaching their signets the ways of the river, cows chewing the cud and flicking their tails, herons watching majestically from the banks, dragon flies frantically chasing your boat, ripples shimmering and breaking against the waterlilies and disturbing for a second the stillness of the yellow flowers sprouting from them. The vistas stretch for miles across fields with tiny villages recognisable by their church spires poking out on the horizon and then suddenly the vistas disappear and you are enclosed by reeds or trees of every variety, shaded but penetrated by flashes of sunlight. Every so often there is the excitement of a bridge - or rather getting the boat through it without hitting the sides. Then comes the mooring up!!!! Mooring is actually a simple task if logic is used and all remain calm -  steer the boat in, knock off the power, secure the front end and then secure the back end, job done. Alas, for us mooring seems to cause a lot of tension, a row often errupts with choice language, raised voices and a lot of disagreement about who's fault it was the mooring didn't go to plan! Arguments aside there is something really lovely about being tied to the river bank, knowing you are there for the night far from civilisation in the peace and tranquility of the countryside all 'alone'. That is unless you listen to local folklore which can make you a bit nervous about the 'alone' bit. Local folklore has it that at night out on the paths near the waterways and fens of Cambridgeshire and Norfolk there is a ghostly presence known as the 'Black Shuck'. Described as a large black hound with red eyes as big as saucers that prowls about howling so as to make your blood run cold. Apparently though there are tales of the Shuck helping out the fairer sex who may find themselves  lost in the fens and that he has on occasion  guided them back to the safety of the villages. I could find no details though on what he does to men, making Simon a little nervous when conveniently I was already cosy on my PJs when he had to take Skyler out on the dark mooring for his before-bed pee…………ARH-WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Of course you don't need to sleep out in the middle of nowhere with wild beasties. Along the rivers and canals are pretty villages and pubs where you can enjoy the local hospitality, often these moorings are busier with other boaters and locals so there is that sense of safety in numbers if you don't like being in more secluded places. Littleport is one such place, an hour or so up the river from Ely, we stayed there on our first night, crossing a little bridge from our mooring to the Swan on the River,where we had a few glasses of the amber nectar and a lovely meal. Word of warning though, remember you are on a river and you need to be able to walk in a straight line at closing time back to your mooring, otherwise you'll be getting a bit closer to those waterlilies mentioned earlier than you hoped. Of course being on the boat doesn't mean just looking out and doing nothing, being on the boat is a perfect time to indulge in pastimes you might not get a lot of time to do in your busy working week. There's talking, reading, writing,  playing games, taking photos, drawing, painting, maybe like me learning sailing knots and discovering local folklore. Cruising for 3-4 hours a day seemed about right for us as it gives you the opportunity to do some off boat activities too.  Off the boat you can potter around the local area or walk for miles along the river paths (essential for doggy owners - remember the dog needs to pee and unless very clever can't cock their leg over the side). We are suckers for pots of tea and cakes at the village tea rooms and love to get a little mellow at the local pubs. Whilst cruising you may also come across a local markets, village fetes or visitor attractions. We visited Denver Sluice Complex, a historically controversial piece of waterway engineering built to prevent the often catastrophic flooding of the villages and fens around the rivers in  this low level part of the country. Historically this lock and sluice system didn't meet the need it was intended for and blame was put on insufficient funding and miscalculations in its engineering structures (even John Rennie had a go). This resulted in more flooding and difficulties for village and boating trades over many years. Now it is in working order and whilst some feel it is still not as a good as it should be it has prevented further widespread flooding of the area. As for the traditional boating trades, as seen with many other areas across the country an increase in rail and road networks has meant a decline in these trades leaving the rivers free for mainly leisure boating. The railways are definitely evident in the area as the lines cross the river in several places and we did moor up very near the train line on a couple of occasions. Not everyones cup of tea, but we both love the sound of trains and watching with  interest the origins of the freight on the freight trains, these often come from far and wide reminding us of how big the world is away from our boat and little piece countryside mooring. It was strange (van owners will understands this),  but I felt a little guilty abandoning the campervan for a boat at the beginning of the week.  However, by the end of the week we were sad to be leaving the boat behind after such a relaxing week and would have loved to carry on for longer, but boating is not cheap unless you own the boat of course. We agreed as we left that if we ever got a boat it would be a barge rather than a cruiser, with a tiller and not a wheel, the bed would be big and square, not a triangle and we'd have our mooring on the river not in a marina, it would be next to a field and a railway line with a short walk to the village tea shop and pub. Simon as always has begun  researching this and will shortly bombard me with results in his bid to go and live on a boat. Unfortunately he is a hoarder and you can't live on a boat if you are a hoarder, so I have given him a load of charity bags in a bid to get him to have a clear out….. Watch this space!!!! One good thing about getting home was having the luxury of a proper bed to sleep in, although for the fist night I seemed to retain a sense of gentle rocking like I was still on the boat, but maybe that was Skyler pushing his luck and wriggling in for a spoon!!! So again with the words of Toad from Wind in the Willows it's back to the magnificent van (cart) for our next adventure in the gap year.

"There’s real life for you, embodied in that little cart. The open road, the dusty highway, the heath, the common, the hedgerows, the rolling downs! Camps, villages, towns, cities! Here today, up and off to somewhere else tomorrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement! The whole world before you, and a horizon that’s always changing! And mind, this is the very finest cart of its sort that was ever built, without any exception."

[greenplanetplumbing]

15 Tips for Keeping Your Home Warm in the Winter

Check out new post published on https://www.greenplanetplumbing.com.au/15-tips-for-keeping-your-home-warm-in-the-winter/

15 Tips for Keeping Your Home Warm in the Winter

Installing gas log fireplace and more tips to keep your loved ones warm during winter.

Keeping your home warm and cosy in winter is every homemaker’s goal. But sometimes, it can be challenging to come up with ways to keep your home warm and comfortable without paying much on heating expenses. It’s all too familiar with many Aussie homemakers: when the temperature drops, the energy bill goes up.

But there are ways to stay warm in this cold season that does not necessarily entail going broke. Here is a collection of time-tested tips and hacks you can try this winter and during cold snaps.

1. Get your house insulated.

One effective way of keeping your home warm during the winter season is to have it insulated. Insulation acts as a barrier to prevent heat loss through ceilings and roofs, walls and floors. With insulation, your home stays comfortably warm during winter and cool during summer.

It is essential to consider your region’s climatic conditions when installing insulations. You can prioritise keeping the heat in or out; the insulation level will depend largely on your region’s climate. With proper insulation, you can save up to 45% on cooling and heating energy. Besides, you also minimise condensation and prevent mould and damp spots from forming in your home.

2. Inspect your house for gaps and cracks.

The presence of gaps and cracks results in heat loss and can even let cold air in. Draughts are responsible for as much as 25% heat loss in your home during winter and heat gain in summer. Fortunately, it’s quite easy to DIY remedy this issue.

You can easily seal the cracks around your windows and doors, floorboards, and walls with air-sealing products. Use draught seal around your door to draught-proof your home. These products don’t cost much and are available at your local hardware stores.

3. Consider installing pelmets on your windows.

Not only are pelmets decorative, but they are also functional. Those little boxes sitting over your curtain rod can effectively block cold air from seeping into your room. If you haven’t got one yet, you might want to consider installing some. Alternatively, you may also attach a strip of plywood on top and behind the curtain rail.

If you can’t install pelmets or are not keen on making permanent fixings for now, you can try temporary solutions. You may move your curtain railings so that it reaches the ceiling, or simply dress the area with a cloth or scarf.

4. Invest in double glazed windows.

Double glazed windows can powerfully insulate your window and prevent heat transfer. Though these are costlier than your standard window, you will save a lot on energy in the long run. You can also fake it and treat your window to get the benefits of double glazed windows.

To DIY, you will only need inexpensive double glazed window kits found in most home depots. Application is relatively easy, especially if you have a knack for handcrafting.

5. Lay down some floor coverings.

One of the simplest hacks in keeping your home toasty in winter is by laying down some floor coverings. Rugs and carpets can do wonders in keeping the area where your feet land warm and comfortable.

Go for wool rugs for the winter season as these can contribute to keeping you feel warm. These rugs are also a safer tandem with your fireplace since it is fire resistant. Dhurrie rugs are an inexpensive and great alternative to carpets and provide a warm and comfortable covering on your floor.

6. Dress up your windows with drapes.

Invest in some lovely curtains that will maximise heat retention and effectively block cold air from coming in. Window coverings like curtains stop heat from escaping through the windows. Go for curtains with thicker fabrics, such as tweed or suede, for optimal thermal backing.

You can also go for block out or thermal blinds rather than thick curtains if you prefer a more minimalist approach. You can dress up your windows in different ways that will suit your interior style.

7. Make the most of the sunshine.

Open up your curtains and let the sunlight in during the day. This will help deliver natural (and free!) heat into the room. It will also help dry out moisture brought about by the cold, thus preventing the formation of mould. When the sun has set, draw the curtains to preserve heat and keep the draught out.

8. Only heat rooms that are in use.

It may be tempting to heat up the whole house, but it is not energy and cost-efficient. Imagine heating a room in the house that nobody really uses. The energy spent to make the unused rooms warm can easily jack up energy bills. That’s precisely what you want to avoid.

The best way to do is to only heat rooms that are actually being used. Not only will it conserve energy, but it will also help warm up the room faster versus heating up the whole place. Make sure that you’re using the right type and size of room heater for better results.

9. Shut the door of the rooms that are not in use.

Zone out and close the door of the unused rooms to maximise warmth in the room that is in use. Close the areas like the laundry room and bathroom, so you keep the heat where you need it most – in the living room, bedroom, or office. Shutting the doors will also prevent cold air from moving into the heated room. Make sure that everyone at home is in on zoning out and avoid leaving the door ajar.

10. Set your heater.

Ideally, the thermostat should be set between 19-20°C (66-68°F) in winter. Of course, it will depend mostly on your preference and which room you are heating. You should also set your timer so that it warms the room only for the time it is needed. For instance, you may set the timer to gradually start heating the room 20-30 minutes before you get up in the morning. It’s a lot better than turning the thermostat full blast to warm the room rapidly.

You might also want to set the timer to switch off at night when you are in bed. The residual heat and the thick blanket will keep you warm. Turn off the heaters when you are leaving the room or the house to save electricity and cut down on energy bills.

A small reminder about heater: make sure it is maintained to keep it in its proper working order. You wouldn’t want to find it broken or malfunctioning just when you need it to work. It’s best to have it serviced once every two years so you won’t encounter any problems at the most inconvenient time in the future.

11. Make your room warm with this fan hack.

Here is another hack you might want to try: put a fan in front of the heater or fireplace. It might sound counterintuitive, but there is a logical explanation for this. Placing a fan in front of your fireplace or heater catches hot air as it rises. Putting it on a low setting can help circulate heat and disperse warmth.

Take note that some fan models have reverse or winter setting. When you put it on winter or reverse mode, the fan’s blades change its turning direction and go anti-clockwise. It then catches warm air as it rises and spreads it around the room. Make sure that the fan is only on low setting because it works best that way.

12. Rearrange furniture in your room.

Sometimes, it all boils down to where you are in the room. Is your favourite chair situated close to the door or window? Maybe that’s why you don’t feel so comfy while lounging there. Cold air may come in through gaps in the windows and doors (which is also why you should inspect for and seal those gaps). It is best to rearrange furniture and:

keep the couch closer to the heat source and away from drafts;

keep the bigger and bulkier furniture away from the heat source so it wouldn’t block the flow;

consider positioning the couch and bed against the internal wall of the house rather than the wall facing outside.

13. Reconsider your bed linens.

Cotton sure feels nice and soft but it is best for summer months. Some bed linen materials like flannelettes are fantastic on cold winter nights. It is lightweight and soft, and it can keep you warm throughout the night without making you sweat. But if you want to get extra warm and cosy, fleece bedding might be a good choice. It all depends on individual preferences and receptiveness to cold and heat.

14. Choose warm clothes .

Yes, it’s a no-brainer, but it’s still worth mentioning. Wearing the right garment is the key to surviving the cold winter months. After all, it’s so much easier to warm yourself than the whole house, right? Wearing the right clothes will even help you save a few dollars on your energy bill.

Layer on some clothes and adjust when you get hotter or colder. Choose materials like wool, polyester or nylon as these are excellent in retaining body warmth.

Thermal underwear can help regulate body temperature, keeping you warm, dry and comfortable.

Add on accessories such as gloves, scarf, shawl, or coat to make you feel extra cosy. A warm pair of boots will keep your feet comfy.

15. Install gas log fireplace.

Get the warm and cosy ambience of wood-burning fireplace minus the hassle of maintenance. Gas logs may look like real woods, but these are actually ceramic and rely on either liquid propane or natural gas to work. Gas log fireplace is taking over and replacing the conventional furnace. Here are its benefits:

· No more chopping up woods, no mess, easy maintenance

Gas log fireplace leaves behind no soot and dust, and there would be no need to sweep chimneys.

· Warms more efficiently

With the conventional fireplace, the warmth wafts and fades up the chimney. Ceramic logs produce and retain heat better than the standard fireplace.

· Much safer

Unlike the traditional wood burning fireplace, gas log fireplace has no open flame.

· Easy to install

Unlike the wood burning fireplace, the gas log fireplace does not require a chimney. Instead, it only needs a vent pipe. It won’t take as much time and effort to install.

· Greener alternative

Gas log fireplace produces less greenhouse emission compared with other home heating systems.

· Adds value to your home

Gas log fireplace is becoming not just functional but aesthetic feature as well. It can even elevate the value of your home.

Fancy a Gas Log Fireplace in Your Home? Green Planet Plumbing offers fireplace installation.

It can efficiently warm the room, requires minimal maintenance, and looks super stylish. Who wouldn’t want an elegant gas log fireplace at home? There is nothing like sitting in front of a beautiful and cosy fireplace in winter. The tall flame crackling and dancing as it warms up the room and imparts a romantic and relaxed ambience.  Imagine your family huddled together by the fire as you share stories and maybe some hot drinks, too?

You probably think that it costs so much to have this fireplace installed at home? On the contrary, it’s much cheaper than the traditional wood burning fireplace. Plus, it costs less to operate! With its many benefits already mentioned in this article, the modern gas log fireplace can easily outdo the old one!

Here at Green Planet Plumbing, we make owning a gas log fireplace easier and more affordable. Entrust the project to our reliable and skilled team! We will help you pick out the most suitable fireplace to meld harmoniously with your home design.

Go ahead and make your home become a sanctuary that it is. Give us a call today at 02 4911 9402 or get in touch with us through email. We serve anywhere within Newcastle, Lake Macquarie, Central Coast and Hunter Valley.

[mariusperkins]

FIC: Inexorable (1/1, fero/the entire samantheon)

The many true callings of Fero Feritas.

A/N: Thanks to @theshehulkproject, for her amazing betaing and encouragement.

Read it under the cut or on AO3.

shield of self: fero/galencia

Fero scrambled over another ridge, the sharp rock face scraping at his hands. He shivered, drawing his cloak tighter around his shoulders for a moment before continuing to climb. He needed to get out of the cold. Once he got out of the cold, then he'd decide where to go, what to do.

He couldn’t go back. Or, well, he could. His mother said he would always be welcome, whether he can back in a week or in ten years. It’s just that he didn’t want to. The thought of living in Rosemerrow for even another minute made his skin crawl, made him want to yell, and throw things until people listened, until they understood. Not that either of those things seemed particularly likely.

He reached a flat surface, an almost-path along the side of the mountain. And there, in front of him like a miracle, was the mouth of a cave. Fero leant against the wall for a moment, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to rest against the cold stone wall. He let out a long breath, peering out over the dark forest. He could just make out the shapes of the trees in the moonlight as they moved in the wind.

He must be very far away by now. He couldn't even see the lights of Rosemerrow anymore. No more praising and preserving the old ways just because. The only old things in the forest were there because they had proven themselves tough enough to withstand the forces of time, worthy of praise. Ancient trees standing tall through forest fires and floods. Deep, fast flowing streams barreling over attempts to dam them. Huge mountain ridges defying attempts to conquer them.

And caves. Big, old caves like the one he was in now. Fero struck his flint a few times, shielding the small flame from the wind. It looked like the cave went back a fair way, and then down. The wind swirled in the mouth of cave, biting at the back of Fero's neck.

Down, Fero thought, might be warmer.

Fero held the small torch carefully in front of him as he made his way slowly deeper into the cave. It was strange – it almost seemed to get easier to see the deeper he went, the light of his torch bouncing off the walls, magnifying itself into a warm glow.

The cave tunnel opened onto a large cavernous space before shrinking again, three small hollows connected to each other.

Fero ran his hands along the roughened edge of the crystals that lined the cave walls. Part of the wall jutted forward a little, forming a natural shelf. The cave wall felt cooler in the room, a good place to store water and food during the heat of summer. This section of the wall curved just so, an invitation to create a cosy nook. It was like this cave had been waiting just for him.

He lit the small lantern, laying out his bedroll where the wall curved, falling asleep to half-sketched ideas of what to bring into his new cave home.

He awoke sometime later to a sharp, cold hand pressing into the skin of his shoulder. Fero's eyes snapped open but whoever it was had blown out his lantern. He could feel them right behind him though, looming over him, tall and solid. He wriggled a little, testing their grip, and their hand tightened.

“Uh, hi,” said Fero.

“Who are you.” Their voice grated in his ears, setting his teeth on edge.

“Fero Feritas of the-,” Fero began to say, then stopped himself. No more Rosemerrow talk. “Actually, just Fero is good.”

The hand tightened on his shoulder again. “Why have you come to this place.”

“I don't know if you've noticed, but it's pretty cold out there,” said Fero, “Also, I didn't know this cave belonged to someone.”

“This cave belongs to no-one but itself,” said the voice, sounding annoyed, “What makes you think that you can come here and claim this mountain for Rosemerrow?”

“I- what? No, what? I'm not doing that, like, at all,” said Fero, “I’m not claiming this mountain in the name of Rosemerrow, I just wanted to sleep here! I picked it because it was as far away from Rosemerrow as I could get!”

Fero bit his lip, hand fluttering and settling in his lap. He was glad it was too dark for the creature to see his expression.

There was a pause and the hand gripping him released slightly, but stayed on his shoulder. “I see. There is much further you could still go, to be far from Rosemerrow.”

“Yeah but this cave is pretty nice. You can't hear the city from here. You can't even see the city from here.”

“We are underground.”

“No I mean--he-ey, that was a joke! I didn't know terrifying cave creatures made jokes!”

“They don’t,” said the voice, “I am not one of those.”

“Does that mean you're not going to kill me for sleeping in your cave?”

“I am not going to kill you, no,” said the voice, “but I might ask you for a favour, one day.”

“One favour? I can work with that,” said Fero.

“A favour in the forest is not like a favour in Rosemerrow,” said the voice, “It will not be forgotten or deferred. You must mean to follow through on it.”

Their voice had gotten deeper, or, no, not deeper. Their hand was still on his shoulder but their voice seemed to come from all around him, echoing around the cave and vibrating under his feet.

Fero swallowed, trying to sound as confident as he had earlier. “I do mean it. One favour for you, and one cave home for me.”

“Good,” said the voice.

They pressed their hand harder into his shoulder and his skin burned. Fero let out a yelp of pain, complaints and anger on the tip of his tongue – and then the pain was gone, as though it had never been.

Also gone was their hand, Fero twisted, reaching out blindly in the darkness, but the only thing behind him was the sharp, cold gems of the cave wall.

Fero stayed still in the darkness for a long while, listening for movement over the sound of his heartbeat, before he felt around for his flint. He carefully coaxed a small flame back into his lantern, holding it up to look around the cave.

All was still.

The shoulder that the voice's hand had been on itched, a prickly hot feeling, and Fero pulled at the collar of his shirt to check it. There, spreading across the skin of his shoulder, was a mark that looked like gemstones, the same gemstones that lined the cave’s walls.

“So you will not forget,” said the voice again.

It seemed to be coming from the floor of the cave, the vibrations of it rattling Fero's teeth.

“Trust me,” said Fero, “I don't think I'd forget something like this.”

“Good,” said the voice, “Enjoy your new home. You will be safe here.”

Fero stayed awake, but the voice didn't come again. The itching in his shoulder lessened, and he ran his hand over the mark, tracing the lines of the gems on his skin.

The voice spoke true, and Fero was safe in his cave home for many years, until a series of misguided life choices and a thunderstorm drove a very scared, very wet Lem King into his cave.

Lem’s waterlogged shoes slapped on the cave floor, alerting Fero to his presence long before Lem made it down to where Fero sat. Fero held his dagger loosely in his hand, leaning back in his chair as he waited.

The orc stumbled in, leaning his back against the wall the door and closing his eyes, violin clutched tightly to his chest.

“Y’know,” said Fero, “it's pretty rude to barge into someone’s house without invitation.”

Lem jumped, his eyes snapping open.

“I – well, you see, it's-” high above them thunder rumbled, and Lem jumped again, his gaze flicking to the cave entrance and back to Fero. He put Fero in mind of a wounded bird, trapping itself in a corner as it tried to get away.

“I get it,” said Fero, keeping his voice light, “I mean, it’s raining pretty hard out there.”

“Uh,” said Lem, “Yes. It is.”

“Don’t want that violin to get damaged in the rain,” said Fero, “It looks like a special one.”

“Yes,” said Lem, “Yes, I... it’s… it’s….” He swallowed. “It’s a very special violin, you see, that’s why I had to take it. I couldn’t leave it there, to go to waste like that, that would be… so you see I had to take it, and now they’re… he’s… they’re after me.”

“They’re after you?” said Fero.

“Yes,” said Lem, nodding quickly, “Yes, exactly.”

Fero’s shoulder itched, and he rubbed at it through his shirt. “And you need a place to stay?”

Lem looked at him shyly. “Yes, I… that would be.... Could I?”

Fero grinned up at him. “Sure!”

He gestured to the seat opposite him. Cautiously, Lem sat down on the too-small chair, setting down his pack but keeping the violin clutched tightly in his hands. The chair creaked a little under his weight but settled.

Fero nodded to himself. Very good work even if he did say so himself. And he did, even if he only said so to an empty room these days.

“So then what are you going to do?” said Fero.

Lem blinked. “What?”

Fero leant forward in his chair. “After you hang out here, what are you going to do after that?”

“Well, I’m, I… oh,” said Lem, his eyes going wide, “Oh no. Oh jeez. I don’t know. I don’t know. Oh gods.” He looked down at the violin in his hands. “What have I done, I… I…”

He covered his face with one of his hands, turning away from Fero as he took deep shuddering breaths, his shoulders shaking. His other hand kept a white-knuckled grip on the violin.

Fero felt his shoulder prickle again, this time with an insistent warmth. He reached under his shirt to scratch at it, feeling the slight-but-familiar raised lines of his gemstone mark.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” gasped Lem, still turned away from Fero, “I don’t know how to get to Velas. I don’t even know how to get out of this forest.”

The feeling under Fero’s skin grew hotter, sharper.

Oh, thought Fero.

He reached out, his fingers curling in the loose weave of Lem's jumper.

“Hey, it's okay,” said Fero, “I can show you the way out of the forest.”

Lem looked up, his cheeks blotchy. “Really?”

The sharp feeling in his shoulder faded, and in its place was the spreading feeling of warmth, the heat of the sun against a stone wall.

“Sure,” said Fero, feeling more confident with every breath that this was the right choice, “I mean, it seems like you could use the help.”

Lem took a shuddering breath. “I really could.”

Fero smiled, trying to look his most encouraging. “Everything’s gonna be fine, buddy. We'll wait until the rain stops, and then we'll head out. And if anyone tries anything, I’ve got your back.”

little bird, visiting: fero/adelaide

After Nacre, Fero has dreams. He doesn't mention them to Hella and Lem - Hella gets this sharp look her eye when any conversation even brushes against Narce, and trying to talk to Lem about Nacre just makes Lem sigh and look into the middle distance. Both of their responses set his teeth on edge. Anyway. They're just dreams, right? So what does it matter.

They’re always the same: he closes his eyes and opens them again in a pristine, silent version of Nacre. It's not silent like the comforting silence of a forest, with the soft sounds of the wind through leaves and small creatures going about their business. It's the silence of a held breathe, a silence that's waiting for something, pressing down on him as he wanders the empty city.

Tonight he follows the same path as always, through the empty streets and towards the empty palace. His footsteps should echo through the streets but they make no sound. He can feel his heart pounding as he walks up the shining staircase, but he can't hear it.

And then. A sound.

Fero freezes, just in case he’s imagining things. But there it is again, the soft rustling of papers amplified by the empty hallways. He follows the sound up, and up, and up. When he reaches the course of the sound the door is ajar, an open invitation of sorts.

There, seated at her writing desk is Adelaide Triste. Her silk skirts are spread out around her like waves breaking against the ornately carved wooden legs of her chair.

“Ah,” she says, not looking up from her writing, “little bird, you have returned again.”

Her voice is soft, but the sound of it feels amplified in the silent space. He doesn’t flinch, but it’s a near thing.

“I'm not trying to,” says Fero. It’s hard to speak, as though he has to push more air out of his lungs to make a sound. “I didn’t know anyone else was here.”

Adelaide hums, finishing the line she’s writing before she looks up. She looks a little tired, like she did when he saw her before the trial. Her expression has a fixed quality to it, like a marble statue. Fero tries not to fidget under her gaze.

“I must admit,” says Adelaide, “it is much quieter here than I expected. It’s hard to hear anything over the silence.”

“Are you here all the time?” asks Fero.

“I am,” says Adelaide, “and I am not.”

Fero groans. “That’s not an answer.”

The corner of Adelaide’s mouth quirks upwards slightly for just a moment before her expression melts back to it’s impassive calm.

“It is the answer that I have to give you,” says Adelaide.

“Ugh,” says Fero.

Adelaide stands, her skirts flowing around her as she steps away from her desk towards the window. Fero moves to stand next to her, going up on tiptoes to look out across the silent city.

“When the city and I were alive, I knew the name of every person who resided in it,” says Adelaide.

“Cities aren’t alive,” says Fero.

“Of course they are,” says Adelaide, “if they were not, you couldn’t live in them.”

Fero wrinkles his nose, looking up at her. “Is that a riddle?”

The corners of Adelaide’s eyes crinkle as she smiles.

She keeps looking out at the city, and Fero turns his gaze outward to, pushing his palms against the windowsill to lift himself further up. The city looks so strange without people. There have been plenty of times that Fero has flown far above cities, until the hurried movements of people faded away, but even then you could still see the movement, the pulse of life that ran through thoroughfares, trickling out into the outer suburbs of a city. Nacre had been the same, the few times he’d flown above it.

Behind the shining towers of Narce the sun is setting into the ocean, a brilliant orange against the blue. Fero watches it for a little while, until his arms start to get tired and he has to lower himself back down to touch the ground. He leans his chin in his hand.

“I was expecting this,” says Adelaide, “but I admit, I can see why my brother took such lengths to avoid this duty.”

“I thought he went on the run because of your dad?” says Fero.

Adelaide frowns slightly, continuing to look out over the city. Fero wonders if maybe he's misunderstood the situation. It wouldn't be the first time - people don't talk through their plans in details with him even when he's involved in them, and he's not the best at putting together details from third-hand sources.

“There were a number of reasons Angelo ran away from us,” says Adelaide finally.

“Well of this was one of the reasons I get it,” says Fero, “this place is totally creepy.”

“I imagine death seems that way when you are not from Nacre,” says Adelaide.

“I mean sometimes, but it's more like – wait, death?” Fero looks up at her sharply. “No, I'm just asleep, this is just a weird dream I've been having.”

Adelaide nods. “Sometimes death is referred to as the final sleep.”

The quiet presses down on Fero, into his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

“But I don't want to be dead!” says Fero, “I- wait, are you messing with me?”

The corners of Adelaide's eyes crinkle again. “Perhaps.”

“Hey!” says Fero, “I didn't know that was something you did.”

Adelaide laughs. It's soft, and over in a moment, but it makes some warmth return to the afternoon sun.

“I suppose I am making two exceptions for you then little bird,” says Adelaide, “Or, three, considering I also let you leave my city.”

Fero tilts his head to one side as he looks up at her. “Oh. Thanks, I guess.”

Adelaide inclines her head. “You are welcome.”

Fero boosts himself up again on his palms so he can catch the sun as it sinks below the waves. He kicks his feet back and forth a little, toes scraping the polished floor.

“Hey,” says Fero, “does this mean we're going to hang out every time I have this dream?”

“No,” says Adelaide, “I imagine I will much too busy soon. And I have other people to visit.”

“Oh,” says Fero, keeping his voice breezy. “That's okay. I have people to visit too.”

Adelaide looks down at him. “Do you?”

“Yeah, I…” Fero’s throat feels tight. “We're going to Rosemerrow, and I'm from there, so. Lots of people to see.”

Adelaide hums thoughtfully but doesn't press further. The sun slips further under the waves, the thin rays of light blocked by the city. It makes the room feel colder almost immediately, goosebumps breaking out on Fero's arms.

“Well. You'd best be going then, hadn't you?”

Fero looks back up, but she's gone.

“Wait-” says Fero.

Or rather, he tries to say that. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. The city has returned to silence again. He cannot even hear his heart.

He squeezes his eyes shut, and when he opens them again he's looking at the thatched roof of the inn he and Lem are staying at.

Fero swallows hard, listening to the sounds of the city, to Lem's faint snores, to his own pounding heartbeat. He rolls over, watching Lem's chest move up and down in time with the sound, until it's time for them to leave.

let feelings flow: fero/severea

The woods were much colder than they should be this time of year. Whenever Fero passed by a frozen stream or a bare tree he remembered what it used to look like. He tried to hold the image of it in his mind to keep himself warm. He had a long way to go, after all, and no one else to keep him warm on this journey.

Which was fine. He used to take many journeys alone. He'd only travelled with people again for a few years. Finding his old habits would be easy enough. Once he got into the rhythm again he wouldn't even miss any one them. Or their stupid violins.

He kicked at a rock, sending it bouncing off against the frozen ground. The sound of it echoed off the empty trees around him. Distantly, he heard the sound of a bird fluttering away. Fero looked up, trying to spot it in the dark sky.

Gods, he missed being a bird. Being a big creature was its own fun too, of course, but nothing beat flying high above everything, feeling the rush of wind under you, using the currents to glide higher, go faster. Fero felt a familiar itch in his mind, the kind that came before feathers sprouted. He could get to the Mark of the Erasure so much faster if he just-

Fero curled his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms. No. Not until he could make sure it wouldn't go wrong again. He just had to fix things, which he totally could, by himself, because his plan was the best, and then they would all be sorry, wouldn't they, sorry that they hadn't listened to his very good plan instead of just disregarding him out of hand. Sorry that they hadn't come with him on his much better, much more successful quest.

Sorry that they'd left him behind. Again.

Fero shook himself. Walking wasn't as fast as flying, but standing in the cold glaring in the ground wasn’t helping him get there any faster either. He trudged on, trying to ignore the itching at the back of his mind, begging him to give into the impulse to take flight.

“When I said you should be more thoughtful about my gifts,” said a voice above him, “I didn't mean you should ignore them entirely.”

Fero looked around him at the bare trees. The hair on the back of his neck raised, and he twisted around, tilting his head up.

Severea lounged along a tree branch above him, her robes rippling in the still air. Despite the precariousness of her position she looked at ease, one arm tucked under her head and the other dangling below her.

Fero shifted his feet, clumsily trying to copy the ease of her position with his cold, stiff limbs.

“Well you seemed pretty mad last time I saw you,” said Fero.

“You have never struck me as the kind of person who avoids making people mad,” said Severea, “that's why I chose you in the first place.”

“Yeah, about that,” said Fero, “you couldn't have told me that was you?”

Severea gave him a small smile. “When you seemed so pleased thinking you'd done it all on your own? I'm not in the business of denying people their knowledge.”

Fero made a face. “I guess that's better than whatever it is Hadrian's got going on.”

Severea laughed. It reminded Fero of spring somehow - birds waking up and the sound of a stream starting to thaw and flow again.

“Hadrian is...a special case.”

Fero frowned. “He's not so special.”

Severea sighed, shifting to sit up on the branch, her legs dangling beneath her. “This is what I meant Fero. Fighting against things is fine, it’s even admirable, for the most part. But you should not fight against everything, especially things you know nothing about.”

Fero felt a different kind itch than the one that drove him to change his shape, hot and irritated in his throat.

“Because no one tells me anything!” said Fero, “How can I know what Hadrian's dumb situation is if he never tells me?! How am I supposed to know which are the things I should be fighting against if you never even talked to me before now?!”

“By listening,” said Severea.

Fero groaned. “I can't listen to everyone, they're so boring. Even the people I like, they just go on and on, pattern this, cursed sword that-”

Severea sighed again, sliding easily down the tree to stand in front of him. She seemed taller than the last time he'd seen her, her lean body bending slightly down towards him like a tree in the wind.

“This is exactly what I meant,” said Severea, “you're tuning people out.”

“No I'm not,” said Fero quickly.

“Yes, you are,” said Severea, “Come, sit with me awhile.”

She turned, walking away from him and Fero scrambled to follow. There was a small fire around a bend, where there had certainly not been one when Fero had come that way before. The snow around it had melted, just a little, to reveal small shoots of bright green grass. A small patch of spring in the winter.

Severea sat on one of the large, smooth stones next to the fire, gesturing for Fero to sit on the one next to her. He pointedly sat on her other side. Severea pressed her lips together, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

“I'm not tuning people out,” said Fero, “they're tuning me out.”

“If these people are so awful,” said Severea, “then why did you follow them for so long?”

Fero fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “Because they were my friends. I had to keep hi- keep them out of trouble.”

Severea hummed. “And that's not a concern of yours now?”

“They left me,” said Fero, “they didn't want my help.”

“Now Fero,” said Severea, her eyes crinkling again, “You should know better than anyone, sometimes when someone says they don't want help, they might not mean it.”

Fero swallows around the lump in his throat. “No, they definitely meant it. Just like I meant it when I left.”

Severea hummed. “And what about when you told me you didn't want my help? Did you mean it then?”

“I always mean what I say,” said Fero, trying to remember what exactly he'd said to her and Galencia at the camp.

“If that is how you feel,” said Several evenly, “then I can take those abilities back.”

“Please don't,” said Fero quickly.

“Don't what?”

Fero swallowed, trying to will away the lump in his throat, the hot prickling sensation in his eyes. Severea waited, her face still. Her hand dropped gracefully down to her lap.

“Please don't take it away,” said Fero, feeling the words stick in his throat, “I don't… I don't have anything else left.”

Fero looked down, twisting his hands in the hem of his shirt. Severea’s neatly stitched shoes were a stark contrast to his grubby bare feet.

Severea reached over to cover his hands with one of her's. Fero flinched.

“I am not in the business of stripping away blessings either,” said Severea, “but I have no wish for unwilling followers.”

“Everyone I've ever followed left,” said Fero, “I’m starting to get the idea that I'm not very good at it.”

“Perhaps it’s that they were not meant to be followed,” said Severea. She paused. “You shouldn't let the opinion of one orc sway you so much.”

Fero looked up at her sharply. His cheeks flared with heat and he tried to will his blush away under Severea’s knowing gaze.

“I don't care what he thinks,” said Fero, his voice hoarse.

Severea smiled down at him. Her eyes didn't crinkle this time. “I thought you always meant what you said.”

“I do,” said Fero, “I mean- and he just!!... So why should I care what he thinks about anything?”

“Why indeed,” said Severea.

She kept looking down at him, waiting for an answer. Fero sucked his bottom lip in, trying to stop the words from escaping.

“He just… he was my friend,” said Fero, feeling the words burst out of his chest, “I thought- He used to listen to me, you know?”

“That is the way sometimes too,” said Severea, “not every follower is a follower forever.”

“And you’re just cool with that?” said Fero, “People just leaving?”

“Sometimes it is for the best,” said Severea. “Is it for the best for you Fero?”

“No,” said Fero, “It pretty much just sucks.”

He wasn’t entirely sure whether he meant losing his powers or seeing Lem disappear in front of his eyes. Both left a hollow feeling in his chest.

“Then I do not have to leave,” said Severea simply.

Fero’s eyes stung and he ducked his head, quickly blinking away tears.

“It sounds so easy when you say it,” said Fero, his voice scratchy.

“Sometimes it is,” said Severea, “You have always felt a very easy choice for me to make.”

“Oh,” said Fero softly.

He wiped at his eyes, looking up at her. Severea smiled.

She shifted closer, leaning over him to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Go forth, my little bird, and remember that even when I am not with you that you are following me.”

Severea ran her hand through Fero’s hair, her touch chasing away the cold as surely as the fire. Fero let his eyes slip closed.

“When you feel that you have followed me long enough, we will have another talk then,” said Severea. “But until that time, you do not have to fear abandonment from me. I will be there when you have need of me.”

at the tower: fero/samot

Fero was tired, so, so tired. He's been walking for hours. Days, maybe – in the constant snow, with no sun, it was hard to tell. He would give anything to be able to lie down and go to sleep, but it was far too cold for that, and there was no shelter to be found.

The ground began to slope upwards. Fero groaned, feeling the ache in his legs with every movement. As he got closer to the small ridge, he could see light. It looked too warm to be moonlight. It could be safety, but more likely it was a trap. At least it gave him something to think about as he trudged on and on, inch by inch, in the deep snow.

It was such a small thing, in the end – he tripped, over a frozen tree root or maybe just a patch where the ground was uneven in a way he wasn't expecting it. Fero tried to pull himself up, he really did, pushing at the cold ground with trembling arms. Weakly, he flopped back down, feeling the snow soak through his clothing. He blinked at the warm light in the distance. Was it even any closer than it had been before?

“Hey,” said Fero.

He'd meant to yell it, but his voice came out too ragged and scratchy to hold much volume. Fero swallowed, his throat aching. He took a few deep breaths, swallowed again. People were always complaining that he was too loud. He just had to focus for this, the one time it might actually help him.

“Hey! If anyone's there! I could really use a hand!”

The warm light stayed where it was.

Fero legs felt so heavy he almost thought he'd sunk into the ground. He tried again the push himself up. His hands stung as he pushed them into the snow, but even the pain didn't really help wake him up. He collapsed back down. It was so much easier to just lie down. It was much easier to just close his eyes, and let the numb feeling spread up his legs, to his chest, to his arms, as though his body itself was disappearing into the black.

Dimly, he heard the sound of crunching snow underfoot, and felt fur wrapped around him, and then settling down somewhere warmer. If this was death, then it didn't feel so bad.

Fero's eyes flicked open. The first thing he was was the warm light of a fire, the bright heat of it seeming almost unnatural now it he was so close to it. The second thing he saw was a man, dropped in the same soft white fur Fero was wrapped in. Fero looked around, trying to focus despite the spinning feeling in his head. There was much less snow on the ground here, the wind lacked the bite it had had. There were even small patches of flowers here and there, as though he'd awoken in a different season altogether.

He struggled to sit up and the man looked at him, eyes gleaming with a strange violet light.

“You should rest,” said the man, softly, “You were in a bad way when I found you, and you are still.”

“I can rest sitting up,” said Fero, flailing around weakly until he found something he could lean against.

It was a cold, flat something – the remains, Fero saw, of a tower, the large stone blocks scattered around the base and throwing strange shadows in the moonlight.

The man held up a flask, offering it to Fero.

“Oh, no thanks,” said Fero, “I don't need to eat, so, y'know, I'm good.”

“Ah,” said the man, “I used to be like that once.”

Fero squinted at him, all clean, fine robes and spotless white fur. “You used to be a druid?”

“No. But I remember how it felt to subside off less... tangible things.”

The man grinned, amused, which was sort of weird but he had sort of saved Fero's life, probably, so Fero wasn't going to begrudge him an inside joke with himself or two. Strange times breed strange people and stranger friendships as they say.

Fero peered at the tower, tracing the way in sunk into the earth as though it was being slowly sucked down into it, the way vines reached up from the ground to pull it further down.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I ask you a question?” said Fero.

“Go ahead.”

“Where are we?”

The man laughed. “It is not often someone stumbles here without meaning to.”

“I didn't,” said Fero, “I just woke up here.”

“Ah,” said the man, “I suppose you're right. This is what people call the Mark of the Erasure.”

“Oh,” said Fero, “That's handy.”

The man's brow furrowed. “What?”

“Well, that's where I was trying to get to,” said Fero, “before I, y'know… “

He mimed collapsing with his hands.

“What were you looking to find here?”

Fero shrugged. “Dunno. Something to....something that would help. With everything.” He paused. “Why are you here? Do you live here?”

The man laughed again, short, like it was being surprised out of him. “No, no one lives here. Although, I suppose in a way some version of all of us lives here-”

“Ugh,” said Fero, “Riddles.”

“-but I am like you, in a way. I was hoping to find something that would help.”

“Cool,” said Fero, “we can help each other look. Stuff’s always easier to find with more people.”

The man peered at him over the fire. “You would help me try?”

“Sure,” said Fero, “I mean, that's what I came to do too.”

“Well,” began the man, then stopped, huffing a laugh and running a hand through his long blond hair. “I normally have to give more of a speech than that.”

“I'm not really big into speeches,” said Fero.

“Yes,” said the man, “I'm getting that.”

“Well what are we waiting for,” said Fero, “let's go!”

He moved to stand, letting the cloak the man had wrapped him in fall to the ground, wobbling on his legs before pitching forward. The man caught him before he hit the fire, the fur slipping from his shoulder a little as he wrapped an arm around Fero's waist.

Fero blinked up at him. “Oh. Thanks.”

“You should rest a little more before we look,” said the man, not making any move to let go of him.

Although it was warmer by the tower than he had been out in the snow, there was still a cold breeze, more noticeable now that he wasn't wrapped in the borrowed cloak. He leant closer to the man, gravitating towards the warmth of him.

Fero pulled the edge of the fur cloak that had slipped from the man's shoulder, so that it covered him too. The man huffed a laugh, shifting slightly to sit on the ground. He picked Fero up easily, his thin arms surprisingly strong and solid as he lifted Fero into his lap. He pulled the cloak around his shoulders, covered Fero with its thick warmth. Fero wriggled a little, settling, before he stilled, leaning his head against the man's chest.

The man huffed a laugh, bringing a hand up to card through Fero's snow-damp hair. “I have known many wild creatures in my time, but I think perhaps you are one of the strangest.”

“I'm not that strange,” said Fero, “you're strange.”

“I suppose I am.”

The man continued to card his hand through Fero's hair, gently untangling knots and occasionally pulling out the small leaves and twigs that had joined Fero on his journey. Fero felt his eyes slip closed.

“This is nice,” said Fero, “I haven’t done this since… “

He stopped, biting his lip as memories rose to the top of his mind.

“Since?”

“Since, um, I used to travel, for a while, with this orc, and sometimes we'd- anyway. It's nice to sit like this.”

The man's hands faltered slightly before he continued his smooth pace through Fero's hair. “Yes, I... used to have someone like that too.”

Fero tilted his head up to look at the man. “I hope not. Mine was kind of a jerk.”

The man gave Fero a tight smile. “Sometimes he was. And sometimes I was. We'd fight about, oh, about everything. Poetry. History. Education. How to raise our son. What to make for dinner. It was wonderful, sometimes, and aggravating at others. And then… “ his eyes took on a distant look. “Well. You always think you'll have more time.”

“Yeah,” said Fero softly. He licked his lips. “There was just so much more I wanted to say, you know?”

The man hummed, softly. Fero felt the rumble in the man's chest more than he heard the noise itself. He seemed very tired, strain showing in the corners of his eyes where it hadn’t been before.

“Like, I wish I could have made sure he was actually listening,” said Fero, “when I told him he was a motherfucker.”

The man laughed, the bright surprised laugh of before, and Fero grinned. It was a nice sound. Fero didn't know how long this guy was planning on sticking around, but he was definitely going to make it his mission to get him to laugh like that as much as possible. It seemed like he needed it.

“Well he is!” said Fero, “And how's he gonna learn if I'm not there to tell him!” Fero struggled to keep the grin on his face, worry creeping into the pit of his stomach. “How am I supposed to teach him if he's so far away?”

His voice came out much quieter than he'd meant to and he looked away, back down towards the edge of the fire. He twisted the fur of the cloak in his fingers, trying to put his focus on the soft fur instead of the memory of Lem’s face as he was pulled away.

The man cupped Fero's cheek, tilting his face up. His hand was warm and Fero leant into his touch like he had leant into the man's chest earlier. Fero felt himself flush, forcing himself to meet the man's gaze. There wasn’t as much pity there as he had feared.

“Distance is hard,” said the man, “but Hieron is not so large. And you seem very determined. Sometimes that can be half the battle.”

Fero swallowed. “What's the other half?”

The man hummed. “When you discover that, let me know. I know I have certainly tried many different things over the years.”

Fero huffed a laugh, his breath forming a small cloud over the man's palm. “Like what?”

“Oh, many things, some of which aren’t possible anymore.” His thumb stroked lightly over Fero’s cheekbone. “Finding something to take your mind off it can be helpful.”

Fero tilted his head, the motion of it leaning him further into the man’s palm. “Walking all the way to the Mark of the Erasure wasn’t enough?”

The man huffed a laugh. “That is certainly one. But there can be more pleasurable distractions.”

Fero paused, considering him for a moment. Pleasurable distractions. Huh. On impulse, he pressed a kiss lightly to the man's palm. The man stilled under him, eyes flicking wide for a moment before going half-lidded.

“Sorry,” said Fero, “I- sometimes I don't think things all the way through.”

The man smiled, tilting his head down slightly, closer to Fero. “I often have the opposite problem myself. But I have know enough people with your particular affliction to know that we are compatible in certain areas.”

Fero's hands curled around the edges of the cloak as he lifted himself up a little, moving them closer still. “Oh? Which ones are those?”

The man leant down, pressing his lips to Fero's. Fero let himself sink into it for a moment, feeling the heat spread through him before he leant back. The man’s cheeks were flushed faintly pink.

“Wait wait wait,” said Fero, “I have another question.”

The man stilled again, brow furrowing.

Fero licked his lips. “What's your name?”

The man laughed again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Samot.”

Fero let go of Samot's cloak, holding his hand out. “Nice to meet you Samot. I'm Fero.”

Samot laughed again, shaking Fero's hand before tugging him forward, twining their fingers together tightly as they kissed. Fero leant up as far as he could, tangling his hands in Samot's silken hair. Samot sighed into his mouth, the sound of it turning into a groan as Fero pulled.

Samot shifted, pulling Fero on top of him as he lay down. Fero was more than happy to follow him down, grinding down onto Samot's arousal, swallowing Samot's groan. Samot’s hands pulled at the fabric of Fero’s shirt, and Fero shivered at how his hands hot through the fabric. Fero ran his hands over Samot’s chest delighting in the pink flush spreading down his neck.

Samot slid his hands under Fero's still-damp clothes, his nails scratching down Fero's back. Fero moaned, mouthing down Samot's chin to suck a bruise under his jaw. Samot arched, baring more of his neck for Fero's mouth to go to work on. Fero did, following Samot’s wordless direction as he kissed his way down Samot's body, pausing to give particular attention to the patches that made Samot writhe under him.

He settled in between Samot's legs, nuzzling the bulge in Samot's pants before moving back a little, leaning his head against Samot's thigh. Samot huffed, glaring down the lines of his body at Fero.

Slowly, deliberately, Fero laid his hands on the flat of Samot's stomach, the tips of his thumbs just brushing against the waistband of Samot's pants. He peeled Samot's pants down slowly, kissing along one of Samot's inner thighs and then the other.

He sat back, ready to do the same again only this time with a much more smug expression. Samot's hand, which had been clutching at the lining of his cloak, suddenly gripped Fero's hair like a vice. Fero made a sound between a gasp and a moan, the sharp tug of heat on his hair going straight between his thighs.

Samot repeated the motion, slower this time, sitting up slightly, his eyes never leaving Fero's face. He cupped his other hand over Fero gently. Fero bit his lip, trying to muffle the sound.

“If you continue to tease me,” said Samot, “I will do the same to you tenfold.”

“Okay, yeah, no more teasing,” said Fero, panting a little, “seems fair.”

Samot let go of his hair, leaning back down, and Fero whined at the lost contact. Samot chuckled, threading his finger through Fero's hair much more gently than before.

“Very well,” said Samot, “in this moment, there is no reason for us both to not get what we what.”

Fero followed the press of Samot's hand, bending to take Samot's length in his mouth, shivering at the sensation of Samot's nails scraping over his scalp. Fero moaned around him, digging his fingers into the meat of Samot's thighs. Samot groaned, one hand tugging on Fero's hair and the other flung wide, his fingers digging into the dirt. Fero could see it, just on the edges of his vision, Samot's pale skin against the dark ground.

Samot tugged on his hair again, more insistent, and Fero's world narrowed the sensation of Samot around him, of Samot inside him, as Samot arched his hips. He dug his fingers in deeper, leaving scratches on Samot’s thigh and Samot responded in kind, the sharp pain of Fero’s scalp making his toes curl.

The heat between his thighs throbbed in time with his motions as he took Samot deeper into his mouth. Samot shuddered, hips losing their rhythm, clutching at Fero’s shoulder as though to anchor himself. Fero felt the bitter taste flood his mouth, swallowing down as much as he could before he let Samot’s spent cock drop from his lips.

He leant back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking over Samot as he lay panting beneath Fero, cheeks flushed and golden hair spread out underneath him like a halo of light. Samot smiled up at him, pulling at Fero's shoulder until he lay down next to him. He pressed a kiss to Fero's lips, soft at first but building in heat and he stroked down Fero's body. Fero shivered, wriggling closer to press against Samot, slinging his leg over Samot waist to rut against him.

Samot hummed, biting at Fero's bottom lip. He slipped his arm around Fero's side, flipping Fero so that he was lying on his back on top of Samot. The night sky was dark above them, the few remaining pinpricks of starlight sparse in the expanse. Fero wriggled again but Samot held him firm, the arm around his waist like iron. With his other hand, Samot began to touch him lightly through the fabric, long fingers circling between his thighs.

Fero whined, hips bucking up towards Samot’s hand. “I thought you didn't like teasing?”

Samot huffed a laugh, his breath against Fero's ear. The sensation of it made Fero shudder.

“I said I do not like to be teased. Teasing others on the other hand... “

He pressed the heel of his palm against Fero, letting Fero arch up against his touch for a moment before his fingers danced away, ghosting over Fero's stomach. Fero squirmed, his hands clutching at Samot's cloak beneath them.

“I thought you said we could both- oh- we could both get what we want,” whined Fero.

Samot paused from where he was pressing a line of kisses along Fero's jaw to whisper into his ear. “And what is it you want Fero?”

His fingers trailed their way down Fero's body, running lightly along the waistband of his pants, leaving lines of fire in their wake. Fero swallowed a gasp.

“You,” said Fero, “I- your fingers, please.”

Samot chuckled. “Since you're so polite.”

He loosened Fero's pants, wriggling his hand inside. He slid his fingers lazily along Fero's opening until Fero whined, hips arching as best he could with Samot's arm still around his waist, holding him in place. Finally, finally, he slid a finger inside Fero, crooking just shy of giving Fero enough sensation. He whined again, pressing his face into the crook of Samot’s neck.

Fero squeezed his eyes shut. “Please.”

Samot stroked him lazily. “Please what?”

Fero nuzzled his face against Samot's skin. “Please, I- I don't want to look at the stars. I want to look at you.”

Samot stilled for a moment, then shifted under Fero slightly, relaxing his hold on Fero a fraction so Fero could tilt himself to look up at Samot's face. The light of the flames caught on Samot's hair, giving it an almost unearthly glow – not like the star that fell to earth has had, a warm, friendly light. The kind of light that had drawn Fero in when he was trudging through a snowstorm.

Fero reached up and trailed his fingertips lightly along Samot's jaw. Samot's breath hitched, and he pressed a light kiss to Fero's forehead, his finger continuing to work Fero open.

Fero tilted his face up, placing messy, open-mouthed kisses up Samot’s neck. He felt Samot smile as he added a second finger, swallowing the sound of Fero’s moans as he scissored him open.

Samot circled Fero’s clit with his thumb, sending sparks shuddering through Fero’s body. Samot wasn’t teasing, the motion of his fingers making it hard to draw breath, making it feel impossible to do anything but arch towards Samot’s hand, chasing the sensation. Samot tightened his grip on Fero’s waist as he sped the pace of his fingers. Fero could do little more than moan, panting into Samot’s skin as Samot drove him over the edge.

Samot relaxed his grip on Fero, letting Fero slip into the crook of his arm and wrapping his cloak so the it covered his body. Fero wriggled closer, his movements clumsy as he nuzzled his face into Samot’s shoulder. Samot’s arm stayed wrapped around his side, loose and warm.

Samot pressed a kiss to the top of Fero’s head. “That certainly was a pleasant distraction.”

“A distraction from what,” Fero mumbled against Samot’s shoulder, “I don’t even remember what we were talking about.”

Samot laughed, and Fero could feel the warm vibration of it travel through him, warming him from the inside out like friendly firelight in his chest.

in dreams: fero/samothes

The Mark of the Erasure was strange. He’d only been half paying attention when the others had talked about their experiences there, and it had definitely sounded pretty weird, but hearing about someone’s experience and walking into a room and being in a different world were two very different things.

Outside the room, Fero had been walking down a corridor (well, walking down the wall of a corridor because of how the tower had fallen) picking his way over cracked stone and rusted torches, when he’d come across a door that looked different than the others – not better-kept, it looked just as weathered as the other doors, but something about it seemed different. The finishing on the doors mental hinges was just a little bit finer, the carvings on the door had just a little bit more detail than the others.

Fero brought his own small torch closer to get a better look, running his fingers over the swirling patterns of wolves and roses, admiring the work. Whoever had made this door had been a much better craftsman than whoever had made the other doors. Possibly this door had been the original and the rest had been copies.

He straightened, looking critically at the door handle. Adaire had told him once that the better the door, the better the stuff was behind it. That seemed as good of a way to start checking doors as any.

When he tried the handle, it wasn’t even locked.

The first thing Fero noticed was the warm breeze, washing over him. It pushed the door shut behind him, but Fero barely took note of it. The room he’d stepped inside was large, neatly furnished but obviously lived in – the remains of a meal sat on a table overlooking a large window, the bed half-made, as though whoever the room belonged to had been trying to neaten things up before they’d left.

Fero stepped further into the room, peering out the window. It overlooked the courtyard of the building, which lead out towards a small city. People passed through the archway of the courtyard, coming and going about their business. That made sense, it must be nearing midday with how high the sun was in the sky –

His thoughts stopped short as he looked up to the sky. The sun. Oh.

Fero closed his eyes, tilting his face up towards the brightness. He’d forgotten how warm it was.

“Wait,” said Fero aloud, his eyes snapping open.

He rushed to the door, wrenching it open.

Instead of leading him back to the dark corridor he’d come from, the door now leads into another bright room. This room is similar to the one he’d just come from, except this room isn’t empty.

A man, tall and broad and impossibly handsome, turns towards Fero from where he’d been leaning over some documents spread over a table. They are too far away for Fero to read but they look complicated, scrawled writing around swirling designs. The man blinks at Fero in surprise.

“Uh,” says Fero, “I have a good explanation?”

“Well, I suppose if it’s good I should hear it,” says the man.

He doesn’t sound angry, which Fero thinks is a good sign.

“It was sort of an accident,” says Fero, “I didn’t think the door would lead where it did.”

“I see,” says the man, “I suppose I am more curious about how you found your way to that door in the first place.”

“Oh, well,” says Fero. He hesitates for a moment, trying to find something that sounds more believable than the truth. “I was in this old tower, and I thought, ‘Man this door looks weird, I should check that out,’ and then,” Fero gestures around himself vaguely, “Here I am.”

“The door looked strange to you?” says the man. He still doesn’t sound angry, but he is frowning.

“Yeah,” says Fero, “Like, it was way nicer than the other doors. The design was pretty much the same but it was like, way better.”

“You must have a good eye to spot such a thing,” says the man.

Fero puffs out his chest a little. “I’ve made a couple of things in my time. I like to think I can spot superior craftsmanship.”

“Is that so?” says the man, smiling down at him, “Well then, I am flattered to pass such a critical eye.”

“Oh you made it!” says Fero. “Hey, why’d you make it do that weird travel thing? I mean, I’m sure it’s great to cut down on time, but you should really put up a sign or something.”

“I… did not add that particular feature to it,” says the man.

“Oh…” says Fero, “Does that mean you can’t help me get back?”

“That depends on where you’d like to go.”

“I was at the Mark of the Erasure,” says Fero.

The man tilts his head to one side. “The Mark of the Erasure… that’s an unusual place to be.”

Fero shrugs. “We were trying to find something that could help with, y’know, everything.”

“We?”

“Yeah, me and this guy I met there, Samot.”

The man freezes. “Samot?”

Fero nods. “Yeah, why, do you know him?”

“I… yes,” the man swallows, “but I haven’t seen him for a very long time. I do not know if he would remember me as I remember him.”

“Sure he would!” says Fero, “He seemed like the kind of guy who has a great memory. I mean, he was telling me all about his ex and if he remembers all that stuff, I’m sure he remembers you.”

“His ex-husband…” says the man faintly.

“Yeah, he said he’d been thinking about him a lot since the sun went away,” says Fero, “about how they used to fight a lot and that he misses him anyway.”

The man puts a hand behind him to rest on the desk. His other hand trembles a little as he runs it through his hair.

“Hey,” says Fero, taking a few steps towards him, “are you okay?”

“I didn’t think… I didn’t think he would still think of me,” says the man. His voice was soft, talking to himself more than Fero.

“Oh,  uh, yeah,” says Fero, “he does. Have you tried, like, writing to him or something? He seems really sad, honestly. I kind of thought from the way he talked about you that you were dead.”

The man sighs. “In a way I am.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean anything. I know plenty of people who are dead, and most of them are better at carrying on correspondence than people who are alive.”

The man huffs a laugh. “That may be true for those still in Hieron, but things are a little different here.”

“Wait, I’m not in Hieron right now?” says Fero.

“You are not,” says the man, “Not really.”

“Not really?” says Fero, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hieron is made of layers and layers, each built upon its former self,” says the man, “I’m a little surprised Samot didn’t tell you, ordinarily he loves to pass on knowledge such as this.”

“We were busy doing other things,” says Fero, before his brain can stop his mouth.

“Ah, yes,” says the man, “I remember he enjoyed passing on that knowledge also.”

Fero’s face heats up under the man’s gaze. The man smiles. He looks lighter than he did when Fero entered, his shoulders straight as he stands tall over Fero.

The man gestures to the table behind him. “As it is I do not think I can get you to the Mark of the Erasure, but I could get you to somewhere closer to Hieron than we currently are.”

“Great,” says Fero, “Where?”

“My father’s house is not too far from here,” says the man. He paused. “Or, it is far, but it is easy enough for me to send you there from here. I recently had visitors from there, so the pathway is a little more open than it was.”

“Visitors?” says Fero.

“Yes,” says the man, ”they may still be at my father’s when you arrive – time passes differently here.”

“Ugh,” says Fero.

“If you do not like them, I’m sure they will be easy enough to avoid,” says the man.

“No meant- ugh time bullshit, not ugh visitors,” says Fero, “I probably don’t know them, Hieron’s a big place.”

“Not really,” says the man, “Come.”

He leads Fero out of the door, into an open corridor, overlooking an inner courtyard. The air is warm, and Fero smells flowers on the wind. There is the distant sound of other voices far below them, a burbling, gentle sound. Fero can’t tear his gaze away from the bright blue sky.

The man stops at the end of the corridor, in front of another door. It looks very similar to the one Fero had come through earlier, only this one is newer, better maintained. The varnish gleams in the sunlight, highlighting the carvings and almost making them seem alive.

“You made this one too?” asks Fero.

The man smiles, inclining his head. “I built every room with my own hands.”

“That’s a big job for one person.”

“I have had a very long time to complete it,” says the man.

He lay a hand on the door. The sun catches his eye in such a way that, for just a moment, Fero could have sworn they glowed.

“There. I cannot speak to my heart,” says the man, “but perhaps I can help you follow yours.”

He holds his hand out to Fero. His touch is warm and dry, and reminds Fero of the long-forgotten summer heat of his cave home, the comfort of it sinking into Fero’s bones.

“Your path lies on the other side,” says the man.

Fero looks from the door to the man. Both are impassive, giving nothing away.

Fero lets out a long breath. “Okay. Okay, here goes nothing.”

Just as before, the door opens for him easily. Fero looks back as he steps through the door.

Later, he wouldn’t remember so much of what the man looked like, just the vibrant blue of the sky and the sun, blazing bright behind him.

an absence of deficiency: fero/samol

Once Samol had talked them through the hard and difficult tasks that awaited them, they headed back towards the house. Samol remained seated.

“Fero,” said Samol, “take a walk with me.”

He held out a hand for Fero to help him up. Fero pulled him out of his seat. He didn’t weigh much, but then again, he wasn’t a big guy, and how much were gods supposed to weigh, anyway? They were concepts made flesh, really, and concepts didn’t weigh anything, they only carried weight in your mind.

Samol tilted his head towards the back of the garden, where the plants twisted, thicker and shadowed. Fero walked with him, helping to bear some of Samol’s weight.

“Where are we going?” said Fero.

Samol didn’t smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled a little. “You’ll see.”

They walked deeper into the garden. Fero couldn’t see the house anymore, thick, ancient trees and tangles of blackberries blocking his view. Samol was looking ahead, his gaze purposeful, so Fero figured he did actually have a destination in mind.

They made their way slowly around a large yew tree. There was a gap where the tree had split. Samol halted his steps, his hand pressing down a little on Fero’s shoulder to indicate that Fero should stop. Fero looked up at Samol.

Samol leant one hand on the tree, resting the side of his head against it as his looked down at Fero. “Here we are.”

“Okay,” said Fero, “Now what?”

“Look,” said Samol, gesturing towards the tree, “what do you see?”

Fero looked the tree over. It didn’t seem particularly out of the ordinary, it’s branches overhead, twisting to block out the light as they stretched away from the splitting trunk. Fero could see a little way into the hollow, but there didn’t seem to be anything special there either, just the dry old wood.

He looked back to Samol. “It’s just a tree?”

Samol patted the trunk of the tree. “This tree was one of the first I made. It was here before there was anything and it might even be here after everything. It’ll be here after me, that’s for sure.” He looked down at Fero. “There’ll be a lot to do, after, and most folks’ll be too busy to think of it, so I want you to take care of this tree.”

“I don’t know,” said Fero, “last time someone asked me to help them with their plant they didn’t like the outcome.”

Samol’s eyes went distant for a moment before they brightened again. He huffed a laugh. “Well I’ll give you a tip. Gardening is like most things. It works better when you listen.”

He took Fero’s hand, pressing it against the trunk of the tree.

“What-”

Samol shushed him. “Listen.”

Fero tilted his head, ears straining for sound. He could only hear the branches high above them, rustling as they caught the breeze coming off the ocean.

“I don’t hear anything,” said Fero, “Is the tree supposed to talk?”

Samol huffed. “Close your eyes. Listen properly.”

Fero made a face but dutifully closed his eyes. He tried to concentrate, focusing on the rough bark under his hand. Something in his mind began to glow, faintly at first, but brighter and brighter as he tried to pull it into his vision, until it surrounded him.

He blinked trying to clear his eyes. In front of him was a much younger Samol, kneeling on the bare earth, his hands hovering above the earth, drawing it higher and higher until a bright green shoot burst forth, leaves sprouting as it grew. The younger Samol grinned, laughing as he sat back, watching the yew tree grow taller.

Fero blinked, and found he was looking at his own hand again, the finger curled tightly against the bark. He looked up at Samol.

“The tree has seen many things and it remembers them all,” said Samol. “We are much alike, in that regard. If you need advice, or if you need someone who’s a good listener, I’ve always found this tree to be a good companion.”

Fero’s fingers twitched on the tree bark. There was life pulsing under his hand, now that he was listening for it. It felt like he was hearing a choir singing from far away, the music indistinct but hopeful.

“You’re not worried that I’ll mess this up and like, kill your tree?” said Fero.

Samol’s eyes crinkled as he smiled down at Fero. “There are things that I have made that cannot be unmade. This tree is one such thing.” He paused. “Besides, the tree will tell you if it needs help. All you have to do is listen, and you seem skilled enough at that.”

“Most people don’t think so,” said Fero, trying to keep his voice light.

“I ain’t most people,” said Samol, “I’ve seen you, always listening. Maybe not always acting on what you listen to properly, but that comes with experience. I have no doubts about passing this tree on to you.”

Fero swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’ll look after the tree.”

Samol patted the trunk once more before he straightened himself, nodding back the way they’d come.

“We’d best be getting back,” said Samol, prodding Fero in front of him, “Lead the way.”

The undergrowth was thick, a tangled mass of green broken up only by shafts of sunlight. Fero hesitated, looking back up at Samol.

Samol huffed a breath. “Listen.”

Fero closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he could see the path back in his mind’s eye. “This way.”

Samol nodded, and together they walked out of the forest and back towards the house, where the others waited for them. Samol stopped when they reached the group, sitting down on the old tree stump where he’d left his guitar.

“What were y’all talking about while we stepped out?” said Samol.

“The system of lacks,” said Hadrian, after a moment. “Ephrim’s not familiar.”

“Ah,” said Samol, “And what is your lack?”

“Belief,” said Ephrim.

“Ah,” said Samol, “Of course.”

Samol turned to Fero. With Samol sitting down, Fero was the only one at eye-level with him.

“I believe I know everyone’s lack here except yours,” said Samol. “What is your lack?”

Fero could feel the others behind him tense, irritation crawling up his spine. Lem put his hand on Fero’s shoulder and Fero wrinkled his nose, suppressing the urge to shake off Lem’s touch.

He'd been asked that question a few times since his arrival. So maybe he gave more than a few joking answers, it wasn’t as though it got them into that much trouble. And besides, it was fun to grin at whoever was asking, wide and bright, and say

“A fancy hat.”

Or

“A really good sandwich.”

Or

“Shoes.”

And listen, Fero knew it was a big deal of a question, but it was also none of their goddamn business.

Not even if they were a god.

“My lack?” said Fero.

“Yes,” said Samol, “what is your lack, little bird?”

The muscles in Fero's shoulders twitched under Lem’s hand. Samol’s gaze was steady and unwavering, boring into Fero’s. He had a soft, sad smile on his face, as though he already knew Fero’s answer.

Fero’s real answer.

He could hear his blood pounding in his ears. It felt like the words were being pulled out of his throat. “Mother Glory.”

Fero could feel the group look down towards him from where they had been looking away in annoyance or discomfort. Fero did not look away from Samol. His muscles twitched again under Lem’s hand.

Samol nodded, fingers tapping for a moment on his guitar. “You might want to talk to the tree about that. They’re never embarrassed.”

The silence of the garden was gentle, the distant hum of bees punctuated by bird calls. Samol blinked, and Fero looked down at his feet, scuffing them along the grass. He could feel the tree on the edge of his awareness, quietly waiting for him. It felt strangely comforting to know such an old thing would care to hear what he had to say.

Fero looked up, straightening his shoulders. Samol gave him a small nod.

“Well,” said Samol, taking a deep breath in, “I suppose you’ll be wanting to know what comes next.”

Hadrian cleared his throat. “Yes. If you could.”

[ecotone99]

[SP] The Summer Tree House.

The sky was a cool crystal blue with gentle whispers of clouds. A warm summer breeze caressed the bushes and trees as it ideally passed by. The trees and greenery stretched forever in nearly all directions. In the middle of this seemingly endless forest was a clearing with a single lone tree in the centre. At the top of this particular tree was a tree house.

The most magnificent tree house young Kevin had ever seen.

It had a gap for a front door, two empty windows, a roof and a balcony, but best of all, he somehow knew it was his very own tree house. No one else could come in unless he let them. He had always hoped for one just like it, his father had said he would build him one but always seemed too busy to do so and got angry when he asked. That wasn't important now though. He was just happy to have this one, and that's all that mattered.

There was a rope ladder leading to the balcony. Kevin grabbed the ladder and pulled himself up, climbing one step at a time. Once at the top he darted in and looked around. There were childlike drawings all across the wooden walls. He looked at them more closely, there were pictures of dinosaurs, astronauts, pirates, horses and cowboys. In the corner was a make-shift table with some paper and coloured crayons on it. He sat and thought for a bit before he decided what the walls were missing. He got a brown crayon and drew a dog playing before putting it on the wall with the rest. He had always wanted a dog.

There were toys, books and games on shelves, in drawers, even laying on the floor . He played, read and had fun. Time passed by but It didn't seem to matter how long he spent. The sun did not want to disturb this boy's fun and hung firmly in the sky, unmoving.

Some time later he poked his head out the window to take in the world below. He could hear the birds singing, the rustle of the wind through the land. Rows of trees that seem to go on for miles, expect for one spot where there was a another small clearing. He could see a small building in the middle of the area, there was a path coming from it which lead right to the tree house itself. Kevin looked round his wooden fort for something to help him see better. Against one wall was a chest full of all sorts of things that a young lad might find a use for. Rummaging through it he found a small telescope. He took it out, went back to window, unfolded it and looked out at the building again. With the aid of the telescope he went to see what it was. Was...was it a house?

He looked again, it was indeed a house. It looked cosy and safe. A red bricked cottage with white window frames, vines curved around the front door and up the side of the building. A large chimney stack on the side blew small puffs of white clouds into the air. A thought entered Kevin's mind that he didn't think himself, it told him that this was his house, that it was his home.

“Maybe I should just pop home for a moment, I bet mum would love to hear about my new tree house!” Said Kevin aloud to himself. He folded the telescope up and placed it on the floor. He climbed down the ladder, landing on the grass below, that was when he spotted something new. It was a small dog. It was brown with white patches, it looked just like the one he wanted when he was younger but his father wouldn't allow him to have. It was entertaining itself with a stick it had found when he it's eyes met Kevin's. It dropped the stick and panted playfully at the boy. Kevin burst into a smile, crouched down and said “Hello there boy!” as he reached out the pat the dog. The dog almost seemed to smile as it closed it's eyes while it enjoyed the head rubs.

“What's your name?” He asked the dog as he continued scratching behind it's ear. His only response was a happy panting. What was that name he decided he was going to give that dog years ago, if he had got it?

“I know, I'll call you Buddy! How does that sound?” Buddy happily barked in agreement.

“I've got a home over there buddy. You'll like it. My mum lives there. She'll get you a big ol' bowl of food, what ya say?” Another happy bark was the response along with a rapidly wagging tail.

The two set off along the path. Buddy joyfully walking beside Kevin, looking up to him every so often with his tongue hanging out his mouth. The walk seemed to take longer than Kevin had expected, he knew he was getting closer, yet at the same time he felt like it was still so far.

He had walked for a good while when he started to wonder if they had got any closer to the house than when they had started. He decided to try calling out to the house instead.

“Mum! Mum, you there?”

There was a brief silence, a rustling of grass, then a response from the house. “...Kevin...?” Another pause. “...Kevin are you there sweetheart? Come home. Please sweety, please come home to mummy...”

The house suddenly felt a lot closer now. He could almost reach it if he wanted. Kevin took a step further towards the house and stopped, before looking over his shoulder to the tree house. He did enjoy that tree house. He had more fun in it in the past few moments that he had, had for a good few years now. In fact there had been very little fun at all for Kevin for a number of years before this point. His face sank a little as he looked down at buddy who had stopped panting and cocked his head at him.

“What do you think Buddy, should I play for a bit longer before I go home, hmm? I don't get to do this much.” Buddy gave an approving noise, though that may have just been from getting more fusses off his new friend. They turned and ran back towards the tree house, leaving the house behind.

The voice from the house grew again. “...Kevin...please...stay with me...Kevin....”

“Don't worry mummy I'm just going to play some more, I'll come home soon!”

And play he did. He didn't know or care how long him and Buddy played for. They chased one and other, played fetch, hid and laughed when one found the other. There were even costumes in that tree house, cowboys hats and toy guns, astronaut helmets, comical masks, a fake wooden leg for a pirate and a hook hand. Kevin thought of no end of games for them to play, sometimes buddy would play along, sometimes he would just try chase his tail. The end result was always more smiles and laughter. Occasionally there was a whisper of his mum's voice in the wind, calling to him, but he wasn't ready for the fun to end. Not yet. There were still new games yet to play. For instance he found that if he folded the sheets of paper on the table in the tree house, into planes and threw them then buddy would joyfully chase them down. Though if he caught one of the planes he would carefully place it down, so gentle was his nature.

Even more time passed and Kevin started to look to the house in the distance once more. He listened to the whispers more seriously this time. Buddy had been tossing a stick in the air and catching it over and over when he noticed his friend standing still. He carefully placed the stick down, walked over to him and nuzzled his hand.

The hand stroked his head but the boy didn't look away. Kevin stroked him without thought a little while longer before speaking. “I think I should go home now. I've been playing for a while now. My mum might be starting to miss me.” With that he began moving towards the house. Buddy quickly followed by his side. They walked in silence for a while, until the silence was broken the voice of his mum calling him. She grew louder the closer they got. He started to shout back to her and got the impression she could hear him too. They were almost at the garden gate when a different voice spoke up.

“So...how's he doin'?” The new voice was cold.

“...What are you doing here...?”

“...What, I came to see the damn kid! You been goin' about him every god-damn day, so I thought you'd be happy if I came to see him! God forbid I do something to make YOU happy...!”

Something was happening to the house. Kevin's eye widened as he watched the vines which hugged the building so gently, turn brown and fall away.

“...Oh no! You don't get to guilt trip me, not here ,not now! You don't get to do that...!”The chimney began to brake apart, it coughed a black tar into the air before crumbling.

“...Yeah, yeah I know! I'm the baddy here aren't I?! I'm the reason he's like this, I'm the reason your life is, oh so, terrible! It's aaaalllll MY fault....!!!!”

The white frames of the windows greyed and cracked. Lines started to appear on the red brickwork of the house.

“...YOUR GOD DAMN RIGHT IT IS!!! He wouldn't be in this condition if you didn't think you were the big man who 'drives better with a few beers in him'! Your the reason he's like this...!”

“...Oh this is so like you...Do you remember the reason why I had him in the car in the first place, eh? That phone call I got from the neighbours? They had seen his mother 'taking something' that made her behave in a dangerous manner! Maybe we should talk about that...?!”

“...Oh screw you!! I only take that stuff because of you...!!!”

“...OH SCREW YOU TOO....!!!!”

The voices faded, and as they did the house fell. Kevin covered his face as the dust rose and then slowly settled. Once it had came to a rest there was another building in it's place. It wasn't red bricked, there were no green leafed vines. The dull walls had graffiti on them, one window was cracked and another was boarded up. He knew now that this was his house. His real home.

He began to remember. He remembered everything. He slowly sat down on the ground in front of the, now rusted, garden gate, with his knees pressed into his chest. Buddy sat patiently next to him.

He sat there thinking about what was waiting at home for him. Time passed as he did and, for the first time in a long, long time since Kevin had arrived in this place, the sun began to set. Clearly it had been having so much fun this long day that it decided to throw up some of the most beautiful colours as it set. Hues of orange, yellow, blue, red and purple painted the sky as the sun began to slowly lay down it's weary head.

Kevin had not moved. He had stayed in the same spot with his legs pressed into him. Buddy knew this called for more drastic action. He walked up to him and plopped his head on his knees so he could see him eye to puppy dog eyes.

Kevin moved away. He looked at trees for a while before speaking. His voice seemed heavy in his mouth “I don't know if I want to go home anymore.”

Buddy sat up and straightened up. “Well it's up to you if chose to go back.” He said.

He turned to Buddy without surprise or concern. Only worry on his face and tears forming in his eyes.. “But they want me back. If I don't go back, would...would that make me a bad son...? Would I be doing something wrong.”

"There are no right or wrong choices in this place Kevin. Only one choice that would give you the most happiness. And one that wouldn't.”

He sniffled and wiped his nose on his arm. “Ca...can I chose to stay here and play...?”

“Not here. But there is somewhere else where you can go. There are children there, just like you, they play there, forever. It's just over there, where the sun is setting.”

Tears fell, faster than he could wipe them away. “..W...would you come with me, wherever I went, would you stay beside me...”

Buddy shock his head. “Wherever you chose to go, I can't follow. I have to stay here, in this place. But that doesn't mean I can't walk beside you as you go.” He walked closer to Kevin and nudged him gently with his nose. Kevin hugged him before letting him go. He sat, deep in thought.

The leaves on the trees slowly turned from green to reds and yellows as the sun grew tired, ready to rest it's head.

“Have you made a choice?” Buddy asked softly some time later.

“I...I think...I think I just want to play. I don't want to go back home. I just want to play with other kids.”

A small, bittersweet, smile briefly appeared on Buddy's face. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

Kevin got up off the ground. He looked to his canine friend without saying a word, his eyes full of tears and uncertainty.

"Please don't be scared, there is nothing to fear. Just think of all the games you'll get to play, all the fun you'll have with those other boys and girls...” Buddy paused. "...Shall we take a walk?" Kevin followed him as they walked away from the house, and as the first leave of Autumn began to fall, they made their way towards the sunset.

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[theuniversitychallengereview]

UC 49.15 - Sheffield vs Jesus, Oxford

The clocks went back two weeks ago, giving us the ample time to really get our teeth stuck into the darkness that will be all-pervading for the next three months. That glorious quarter of the year where somehow, despite the Earth continuing to rotate on its axis, the sun evades us. Where have you gone, oh, lightbringer? 

I usually limit myself to two or three coffees per day, with a strict coffee curfew of four o’clock, but sometimes there comes a tiredness that so extreme, and a prior engagement so un-cancellable that an evening brew is required. On these occasions, invariably, it comes to midnight, or probably one in the morning, and I lie awake, with no idea why I can’t get my snooze on. I figure it out eventually, of course, but it takes me a while.

I’m the same with the winter darkness. I’ll go a few weeks with scant daylight and a plentiful supply of cold and rain, and feel crap, drained of all zest and joy, but with no idea why. And then I’ll realise its probably the fact that I’ve been getting up and going home on the wrong side of the sun’s parabola. Its difficult, but I’ve got to make sure I rail some Vitamin D tablets and make the most of the daytime when I can find it. 

There are some things which are better at this time of year though, that help me through too. Hot chocolate, wearing three jumpers, hats, getting the train... Okay, those are mostly just ways of keeping warm, but there are other things as well. University Challenge for one.

Each series starts in the Summer, so has been going for quite a while by the time the lights go out, but there’s something extra special about watching with the curtains drawn and a blanket round your shoulders. Its more cosy, and it starts to feel more like you’re in the room with the contestants. You have to hold on closer to the things which bring you pleasure in the Dark Months, so it becomes even more of a highlight too. 

And the first round is coming to a close as well, so the quality takes a step change upwards. Pop the kettle on and snuggle up, here’s your first Starter for Ten.

Last week Paxman left us hanging on the edge of a cliff with regards to who would be making it to the high-scoring loser play-offs. Sheffield were already confirmed, but their opponents tonight, Jesus College, Oxford, made it through at the expense of Downing, Cambridge, for reasons that are about as clear as the line they draw on the screen to show you whether someone was offside during a VAR review (something to do with having got their score having answered the fewest questions, a phrase with multiple interpretations)

Sheffield had the lead for much of their loss to Wolfson, Oxford, and Newhouse picked up a dropped buzz from opposite number Cook to take it again. A quickfire double from pink-haired Clarke stole it back for Jesus, and Cashman extended it with an early buzz of Verdi. 

The Yorkshire quartet got back in the game with the picture starter, Kelly quickly identifying comic sans, the Meme Lord of the Fonts (sidenote about fonts; I once set about reviewing every single font in Word, but didn’t even make it to the ones starting with D because there are so. many. damn. fonts). Bonuses follow on papyrus, brushscript and the 2012 Olympics typeface, which is oddly recognisable out of context. They take two to close within 20 points.

Clarke takes her third starter of the night, but Sheffield returned fire with two of their own, and earned a set of bonuses on Sir Alex Ferguson, which were especially easy if you grew up in Aberdeen, like I did, but probably quite tricky if you didn’t. 

Like the City of Sheffield, this was a match of many ups and downs for both teams (because there’s a lot of hills in Sheffield, get it?). Jesus were in front after the music round, but Sheffield overtook them on the question after. Another for Clarke dragged Jesus back up, and another for Cashman on the second picture starter put them in a healthy position with only a few minutes to go. 

But the Steel City four would not lie down, and they clawed at the forty point lead with one, two, three starters in a row, flipping the match on its head once again. It was fifteen points the other way now. Cashman struck to bring that down to five, but Jesus couldn’t swing it back on the bonuses. One starter left. Buzzer takes all. 

Sheffield had lost their first match on a tiebreak, and this one effectively came down to the same thing, even if it was pre-gong. Paxman recites an ode by John Keats, and its Cashman, yet again, who knows that its about the Grecian Urn, consigning Sheffield to a second consecutive loss in injury time from a winning position. On the bright side maybe Unai Emery will hire them to shore up his back line (that was a joke about how bad Arsenal are at the moment. I could have taken it out, but I have to vent my frustrations somewhere).

Final Score: Sheffield 165 - 170 Jesus, Oxford

Very unlucky there, Sheffield. No many teams go home having lost twice with an average score of 167.5. But well done to Jesus, who performed when it mattered most. And well done to Clarke, for a well-executed dab at the gong.

I’d also like to thank my Patrons, Tough Soles and Carl Lange, for their support! I’m a bit flabbergasted, to be honest. Cheers.

If you want to join these intrepid souls and find your name featured alongside the word flabbergasted then you can do so here: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=16447756