#forgot to adjust the red colours! sorry about that

[sarasade]

Follow everywhere I go Top of all the mountains or valley low Give you everything you've been dreamin' of

Just let me in

-Lily

[telleroftime]

Teardrop ||| Moondrop + Reader

You were certain you were prepared for everything before entering the play structure, ready to do your job and fix whatever was broken. What you were not ready for, against your better judgement, was the very repetitive occurrence of your life: fainting.

———————————————

Request - Anonymous : Could I request a hurt/comfort fic with Moondrop? (Could be platonic or romantic). I keep having this idea about a staff reader going into one of the play structures to check on a broken cable or whatever but they end up fainting while still inside (I was thinking due to P.O.T.S. Syndrome). Moon would find them after hours and basically have to calm them down once they wake up and help them out.

Pairing: Moondrop & Gender Neutral ! Reader

Relationship: Platonic

Tone: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Fainting, Vague implication of claustrophobia, Description of a panic attack.

Oneshot Masterlist

A/N: I tried doing as much research into P.O.T.S. as I could before starting because everyone deserves to be represented. Please correct me if I got anything wrong so that I know for the future.

Writing this made me realise I know nothing about how electricians work. Fake it till you make it, I'm so sorry if all of this is wrong.

———————————————

The Daycare's night theme was well in the middle of playing when you finally finished distributing the warning signs and glow in the dark tape. To your dismay, it took you longer than you anticipated.

Your wheelchair kept getting stuck on the soft carpets and padded mats, proving to be an inconvenience. The weight of it kept sinking deep into the foam surfaces which meant you had to strain yourself to push forward; to unlodge it from the divots it formed. Additionally, the roll of tape had fallen from your grasp more than once, and there were times when the thin plastic film didn't want to remain tied around the poles no matter how hard you pulled.

However, in the end, you managed to tie off each entrance to the smaller play area. At two levels nonetheless, ensuring that the children got the hint and didn't crawl through. You also managed to disable the power to the maze-like structure, meaning that you were practically ready to enter through the only remaining exit.

Placing the final plastic sign on the ground, slightly askew to let you get closer, you put your wheelchair’s brakes on and sighed, adjusting the strap around your chest.

You were certain you had everything, even though you shuffled to double check. Your over-the-shoulder black bag held your duct tape and insulation tape, safe in the back corner and held in place by a stiff separator. Between them and the clear box of screws and bolts was an array of differently sized screwdrivers and cutters. Each one had a different coloured rubber end. Red and blue and green. The few smaller ones that came from a monotoned set were colour coordinated using coloured tape.

It was all a system you took care to keep clean and memorised. It was something that let you be as efficient as possible whenever you manoeuvred around the Pizzaplex.

Nevertheless, you knew that if you were missing something, the daycare specific tool kit would hold the rest. Your bits and bobs of collected accessories and screws and nails that jangled within the smaller pockets of the bag would have to be enough - and have been enough for you to ease past the worry that maybe you forgot something. It was never the case.

Slowly, you pulled yourself up to your feet, mindful of the speed you did so and let your body reestablish its equilibrium. When it did and you felt comfortable to move, you were about to bend over to grab hold of the handle of the aforementioned tool kit, Freddy’s face like a brand on the hard plastic lid. That's when you heard the characteristic jingle of the Daycare Attendant's bells paired with soft footfalls.

You turned around to face him, mindful of how quickly you did so, the body of Moon standing about a metre away from the wheelchair. He seemed nonchalant as he walked closer to you, hunched with a tired sort of swagger, mechanically moving to be right behind the wheelchair.

The red LEDs of his eyes looked directly at you as the silicon tips of his hands travelled the round metal edge of the wheelchair with a little resistance from the forced friction. All the while the small golden bells at his wrists chimed quietly: a little dingle-dangle with each movement.

You moved to speak, but Moon beat you to it.

His head twitched slightly and caused the bell at the tip of his hat to jiggle in a sort of static motion, “there’s one more cycle left before the daycare closes,” he explained, his head never angling from where you stood, “I warned Sunny to keep the children away from the play structure~”

Moon's tone was as coarse as always yet he made sure that the voicebox was quiet, creating a sort of hushed whisper. Well, as loud of a whisper as he could without accidentally waking one of the children that were currently napping in a distant corner of the Daycare.

Nodding at his words, you finally leaned down and picked up the tool kit, taking steps towards the narrow entrance of the play structure. “Thank you Moon,” you said with a soft smile, muscles tense with the weight of the hard box. Smiling up at the animatronic, your head bobbed towards where you knew the children were sleeping, “though you should worry about yourself for now. If a kid wakes up they’ll worry if you’re not there.”

It was his turn to nod, bobbing his head in a sharp motion. There wasn't much more to the conversation as both of you had a job to perform, however seeing his long fingers wiggle absentmindedly made a calm sensation bloom in your chest.

With that and a feeling of contentness, you watched him do a cheesy bow - his head spinning on its axis - before you grinned and turned to finally enter the confines of the play structure.

———

To say that the problem was daft would be an understatement. A child had apparently snagged the buckle of their clothes on a particular, protruding part of the foam that covered the metal bars of the structure's supports. It was almost as if it poked right into the material, became logged, and proceeded to be pulled down as the child hopped the small distance into the shallow ball pit below.

That in itself wouldn’t be a problem if the actual bar didn’t have hidden wires running along its length that were tugged out by the force - ones that were powering the sheltered lights and tiny cameras hidden within the play structure itself. Sure, the placement of them could be dangerous. If parents found out about them there would be quite a few angry mothers, distressed fathers, and appalled guardians. But as always, the corporation wasn't that bothered, and minimal effort in terms of things like this was their go to.

So the wires were going to remain ever that much closer to the curious hands of children.

Thankfully, however, most of the time the thickly insulated wires would be held in place by dozens of black zip ties. It was the case here too, although the job done was way too sloppy. The zip ties weren't nearly as tight as they should have been, allowing the pieces of wire to wobble within their bindings. There also weren’t that many to begin with, at least not in the part visible to you.

That alone was probably why the cables themselves hung limply downwards, two pulled out of their place by the metal pole.

Hands reaching up, you tested the give on the wires, pleased to see that there wasn’t much. Instead, there was something blocking further movement from either direction. Locked in place by zip ties and sharp turns, falls and rises, of the structure. Simply shortening the wire would do the trick here, although it wasn't the best of options.

On a professional standpoint, removing the layers of protective foam from around the structure and repositioning the cables and wires would be the correct thing to do. But, once again, the Pizzaplex adored its 'Minimal Effort' policy with its minal staff pay. So, minimal it would be.

As the music of the Nighttime Lullaby ended, and the Daycare quickly filled with the echoes of laughing and giddy children, you quickly got to work. It would be an easy fix afterall.

Pulling off the remaining foam, you bent down and grabbed the pair of wire cutters that neatly lay within the tool kit, standing back up slowly to come face to face with the wires. You grabbed hold of their length with your insulator gloves now on, and proceeded to cut the two hanging wires down the middle. From there, it didn't take you long to remove the outer plastic from each length.

One practised cut and snip after the next, you were quick to reconnect the ends of each, ensuring that the strands of metal within the insulated casings held firmly by themselves  before you dug in you over the shoulder bag. Without looking, your fingers thumbled for the insulator tape, wrapped it around each of the adjusted wires tightly, and dropped it back into its slot in the bag.

When you were done, finishing it off with way too many zip ties that would no doubt inconvenience the next person that had to fix things here, you tested how snug the wire was against the support. Perfect.

There was barely any give, and after deciding everything was as good as it was going to get, you checked the time. The last thing left to do was to place new foam to hide the circuit.

But that stopped being your priority when you felt yourself blink slowly, a sudden wave of dizziness hitting you.

You knew what was coming, and without thinking, like a second instinct engraved into your soul, you lowered yourself to the padded ground. To your right was the tiny ball pit, your hand briefly thumbling within it before you pulled yourself to the opposite side.

With how it was going, you had enough time to slip the black bag from your shoulder and lay down with an uneasy breath before you felt your consciousness unwillingly slip from you.

———

When your eyes opened again, you were slow to come to your senses.

Everything felt foggy and the lights of the room had been switched off; casting you in darkness. Other than the faint static buzzing in the background and the uncomfortable ringing in your ears, there was no noise nor any sounds of people to break you out of your disorientation. No nothing other than the deafening silence.

Your hands patted the surroundings, noting that the space was a lot smaller than you thought or remembered, and that you couldn't feel anything. No, you had gloves on. Hot on your skin and blocking out one of the only senses that you wanted to feel. Frantically, you clawed to take them off, and the heavy gloves fell to the ground with a frightened thud. The moment that they did, your clammy hands aimed for the floor.

The ground was cold to your touch as you pulled yourself to sit in the darkness, padded with a rustling material. You felt for your bag, and as your hands grew more frantic in their search for answers, something to diminish the fog clouding your mind, you hit your hand on the hard lid of a box that let out a loud jingling sound at the impact.

If the sudden sound didn't startle you then the pain most definitely did, and your hands recoiled back to your chest. This wasn't good, not in the slightest.

What were you doing beforehand? Where were you? What was going on? How long has it been? 

You weren’t thinking straight when your breathing started picking up, sharp and painful against your lungs as you scrambled about in the small space with terror lacing your actions. Water pooled in your eyes, making the faint light from past the surrounding nets - in the far distance of your vision - completely disappear. It was dark, too dark.

You couldn’t see and that scared you.

Panic was heavy in your veins, blood rushing painfully to your head as your body slouched under you. You really wanted to focus, but you couldn’t. A million 'what if's' flooded your thoughts as your hands gripped at the thin fabric of your shirt. You wanted to leave. You wanted to be home.

The distraction of your panic was enough for you to miss the chime of bells as they neared quickly. One after the other with continued steps. All you could hear was the loud and painful beating of your heart that caused your throat to tighten with sobs. You also missed the nearing of the bright red glow of a certain animatronic's eyes. Your eyes shut tightly to the point it hurt. You needed to breathe, you knew you did.

It was only when he was right next to you that you noticed him. 

Moon crouched in front of you, legs spread apart awkwardly with one hand between them to balance himself on the floor like a house cat would. If he was talking, you couldn’t hear him.

Opening your mouth to speak, you noticed you couldn’t. As you looked up at him, not a single, tangible sound escaped you which only fueled your crying that much more. One choked sob after the other. You wanted to shout for help, ask him for support - for anything other than how you were feeling right now.

Thankfully, you didn't have to explain yourself as Moondrop adjusted himself on the ground, long metal limbs folding into a cross legged position. Slowly and wordlessly, he moved his hands from up by the neck of his body, down to where the stomach would be. Up and down in an almost physical simulation of a breath.

With a hiccup from you and a tilt of his head to prompt you, you took the hint and breathlessly followed his actions. A long, though shallow, breathe in and an exhale out. One after the other as your eyes burned holes into his own.

After a while, only one of his hands moved, forcing you to continue breathing in such a way. It helped you a lot, though your chest still burned with a strong, searing pain and the terror kept leaving you in shaky sounds of fear: sobs and whimpers alike.

But your breathing did start to steady, and when Moon noticed your constant rhythm, his other hand moved to gently - almost wearily - rest on your shoulder. "Can you hear me now, Starlight?" He asked, head once again tilting to the side with a jingle of the hat's bell.

At the sight of you nodding your head, he visibly relaxed.

"That's good Starlight. You are safe now~ Just keep breathing, just keep breathing. You're going to be alrighty-right..."

You sat there with him for a little while longer until the sound of your wheezing breath was replaced with simple, tired hiccups. The fog in your mind was gone, lost somewhere at the back of your thoughts with that temporary wave of dizziness. For now you did not need to worry, all you needed to do is be calm. And you were, for the most.

"Come on, Starlight, let's get you out of here," Moondrop said with a grizzly static in his voice and stood up, body bent to fit his height in the child-sized structure. His hands carefully guided you to your feet, keeping you stable.

"How about something to drink?"

———

You were certain that at least one hour had passed since Moon left you sitting on one of those plastic kiddie chairs by a matching table. The rush of fear-driven adrenaline was gone, and you were now letting yourself daze off. You'd long since finished the water Moon had brought you, fingers running against the crayola marks and paint stains on the rough surface of the plastic.

You were thankful for Moondrop. He had brought your wheelchair towards where you sat, black bag sitting in the otherwise empty seat. Everything was in tact, placed back into it's allocated compartments as you were so quick to check. He even kindly brought you some salty snacks, ones with names you recognised and trusted.

This time, even with your dazed state, you didn't miss the soft footfalls that made his golden bells ring and turned to look at him.

“Are you feeling better?” Moon croaked out, crouching down on the opposite side of the table to the wheelchair.

With the angle he was at you doubted it would be comfortable for anyone, even the other animatronics at the Pizzaplex. Still, you had to admit that it looked more comfortable than the way you were sitting, your legs high to your chest with the low placement of the kiddie seat.

“Better than before, thank you,” you answered with a tired smile.

"That's a goodie~"

A beat of silence passed by as his head tilted with observation, the intensity of his LEDs flickering as he did so.

"I told security what happened. You can stay here for the night. They put you down as off work tomorrow too.”

You sighed, exhaustion gripping your eyes and causing the already dull ache from the previous tears to worsen into a persistent throb. You reached for the child-sized cup Moon brought for you, looking into its empty contents.

"You didn’t have to do that for me," You said, chin leaning against the palm of your hand.

"Of course I did Starlight! You're a friend of mine, and Sunny, and the Daycare. I wasn't going to just leave you."

You snorted a chuckle, "either way, thank you."

Standing to his full height, Moon offered to take you somewhere more comfortable. When you agreed with a simple nod, he picked you up with ease. Post-adrenaline exhaustion was slowly but surely washing over you, and you could barely keep your eyes open as Moon cradled your body to his, and carried you into one of the backrooms. The pillows he set you on were as soft as a cloud.

"If you need anything, just call for me," he said with an unintentional grumble of his voicebox.

He didn't explain much more than that, but he didn't have to. With the support of whatever bedding he placed you on, and the dim glow of a star-themed night light, you only managed to mumble a quiet and incoherent, "bedtime," before you were officially pulled into the waves of sleep.

Moondrop refused to move from your side for the hours of still night silence to come.

———————————————

Oneshot Masterlist

[antique-forvalaka]

The Paintings

So i think by now we’ve all noticed the Portraits of themselves that Kim and Tankhun have in their rooms (and im honestly holding out hope for a KInn portrait as well), but i havent seen as much analysis for them so far (and i’m very sorry, i’m supposed to do colour theory for ep4 right now instead).

As a small disclaimer i need to clarifiy that i tried my best to adjust the paintings for perspective, light situation etc. but the process can of course also falsifiy the result. Further i want to reiterate that my analysis is very subjective, and i have no formal education in art history/analysis, so take everything with a grain of salt.

Tankhun:

So let’s start with Tankhun’s painting.

His is quite clearly recognizable as being Pop Art, more specifically Pointillism.

Pointillism as a technique isn’t that young by itself, it describes the use of several smaller colour dots to build up a bigger whole, similar to the modern printing process which also uses incredibly small dots, usually only in 4 colours, to create the books/pictures/flyers you use daily. However Tankhun’s painting here is not only made up of several, relatively big, coloured circles, but it is also split up into only 4-5 colours. It’s a bit hard to make out, even after colour correction in post processing, if the painting is made up of Black/Red/Yellow (+White) or if it is Black/Blue/Red/Yellow (+White). The latter would harken back to current printing presses which work with Cyan/Magenta/Yellow/Black (in short: CMYK), however I actually suspect it is only made with the 3 colours Black/Red/Yellow which would be a hint to a custom, maybe even hand painted/printed piece.

Of course what is interesting about the reduced colour palette in any way is, that these colours should be enough to build up a sufficient spectrum through mixing. Instead we have very clear divisions, think Marilyn Monroe by Andy Warhol. It creates a similar impression to putting someone in a very overexposed spotlight, harsh contrast and, depending on how much colours are used, can give varying impressions of depth. More colours creates the feeling of looking at a clear cut and straight forward person, less can lead to deeper depths and a feeling of hidden sides. The specififc colours used for him also create a very vibrant and active look, which i think portrays Tankhun’s over active and slightly chaotic personality very well.

Here he strikes a balance, but I certainly think the painting creates the impression of a deceptively simple person, especially if you take the build up through dots into consideration. Stay too close to the picture and you will only be able to see the small points making up the whole, not the portrait itself however. For that you need distance. 

Tankhun is more complicated than he looks at first glance. Are his eccentricities just that, unique but mostly harmless quirks? Or do these quirks serve to hide a bigger personality, something we are too close to see in its entirety?

Additionally I want to take the placement in his room into consideration. The painting is hung up on a small wall right next to the entrance, mostly out of the way and not visible upon entry. It is also placed right next to the cupboard behind Tankhun’s couch, which is stock full of more eye-catching trinkets. It feels incongruous how little relevance the painting has in his rooms. At the same time I think this only further supports my reading of it being representative of Tankhun’s character. He stays mostly hidden away in his tower, and even his over the top dramatics are likely a way to obfuscate his true thoughts and feelings. You only really see him on second glance.

(EDIT: I forgot to mention: his positioning in the bounds of the portrait is interesting as well. He is turned away from the viewer, and in fact the perspective suggests us looking down at him from a slight height difference. Yet he may show us his back but he is still looking at the viewer with one eye, there is no trust here despite the implication of 'showing someone your back'. I personally also read his gaze as hostile, but i wouldn't be opposed to reading it as vulnerability instead. Tankhun is, after all, a character that seems to contain multitudes. His apparent weakness (ie. Eccentric behaviour and vulnerabilities/childlike mannerisms) seem to not undermine his authority in the eyes of his family, as seen by Vegas not even trying to verbally defend himself when Tankhun berates him and makes him leave the restaurant during ep4.)

Kim:

Now in contrast, Kim is much harder to nail down.

The only say I can say with relative certainty is that we are looking at an Impressionist portrait, but the specifics I’m less certain about. I feel like his portrait is not quite in line with classic impressionistic pieces, a bit more modern and abstracted. A good style influence could be Olga Boznańska.

Impressionism as a style, as the name implies, focuses on catching and conveying subjective impressions through paintings. They are often loose and the colours carry more significance than in more realistic portrayals. Significant about Kim's portrait is therefore that the colours are washed out, a gold orange is the most dominant colour, though we have some soft blue on the outer edges as well.

Also interesting to note is the way his face is framed. Kim is slightly turned away from the observer, and his face isn’t centered on the canvas. We almost get the impression of a candid photo taken in secret, or in an unobserved moment. However the clearly visible brush strokes (which are really very very big, considering the general size of the piece) disabuse us of that notion.

It’s a very unconventional way to structure a commissioned portrait, even though it fits well into the impressionistic style.

But despite creating this effect of intimacy the washed out colours and the formidable size of the picture bring back some distance. We haven’t yet seen much of Kim, so I can’t say too much about his character. However the portrait itself seems to suggest a division between how he is perceived in his role as WIK and how he sees himself.

WIK is bigger than life, he is to be admired, looked up to, and yet also perceived as authentic, as close to his fans. Likely there is a hint of a para-social relationship between him and his fans, as with so many modern artists or public personalities. Yet he is washed out, a mirage, a glimpse at his reflection more than a look at who Kim really is. The painting wants us to believe there is certainly mystery surrounding Kim, yet not much depth, it’s relatively flat. At the same time his edges are hard to grasp. His form fades at the edges and it’s hard to pin him down.

I’m wondering is this is also how Kim sees himself, he certainly seems to be a bit more removed from the main family than his brothers, a bit of a shade, ready to fade out of the (mafia) spot light.

Also significant, more so for Kim than for Tankhun, is the placement of his painting. It has a very visible place of honour, above a decorative cabinet. More importantly we as the viewer know it is hiding his conspiracy board.

(credit to @AMC_1903 on twitter)

Either he sees himself as eschewing his ‘true self’ in order to better investigate, his public persona just a face to put on to hide his secrets; or he thinks of himself as protecting his family and his secrets instead. He is literally in between his family’s secrets and the world, a smokescreen in front of his true motives. I suspect we will see that Kim, as most other big Players, is more complicated than we initially assume.

I may expand on these at a later date, but no promises. I’m pretty busy as of late, and I wanna wait and see if Kinn has a portrait hidden away somewhere as well. Also big thanks to Senpai @iffervescent​ for making me think about Kim’s portrait placement!

For now, this is where you can find more KP Meta:

Colour Theory:

Major Players: Porsche

Major Players: Kinn

The Intersection of Kinn and Porsche / Green

Kinn’s Colour: A revision

Episode 2; Significant Scenes

Episode 3; Significant Scenes (+Tankhun)

Extra: Hidden Messages YT Video

More from my IMM Mates:

Ep 3 Lines of Power by @luckydragon10​

Kinn, Still Gay Still Murderous and other gifs by @moerusai​

Tankhun costume analysis by @chaoselmo​

A bit on Pete by @minisculecosmos​

​ Why Kinn’s voice fucks me up: a silly little analysis by @yeetlegay​

[leet911]

for the imodna prompts, may i offer: cheek kisses.

Leaning

They’re walking through the Elder’s Post when a peddler’s stand catches Laudna’s attention.  There are various pendants laid out on a folding table, little carvings of trees with ornate twisting branches.  Laudna touches one whose shape reminds her of the Sun Tree, but it’s tinted red, and she’s unsure whether that’s the natural colour of the wood or some sort of stain.

“Just one gold piece, for a lady such as yourself.”  The merchant appears in front of her.

But Chetney is by her side just as quick.  “I could make one like it if you want.  A master craftsman isn’t beneath taking commissions.  Even if you already got a toy.  We could consider it a welcome back gift.”

Laudna laughs, but pulls a coin from her purse to hand to the seller.  “I’ve got it.  Besides, didn’t you say we had more money now?”

“Yeah, we’re loaded!”  Chetney whisper yells, eyeing the crowd around them warily.  “Now let’s get back to the others before Imogen notices you’re gone.  She told me to keep an eye on you, and you know how she gets when she’s angry.”  He makes a throat cutting motion on his own neck.

As if on cue, Laudna feels the familiar press on her mind, the door knocking that Imogen does when asking for permission.  Laudna?

I’m here, with Chetney.  She spots the lavender hair across the way, dodges around a couple other groups to get Imogen in view.  When their eyes meet, Laudna can see Imogen visibly relax, her hands opening and jaw loosening.  He was with me the whole time.  And we’re safe here in Jrusar.

Imogen adjusts her glasses, rubs the bridge of her nose where they rest.  I’m sorry.  I worry sometimes.

I know.  I don’t mind.  Because no one has worried about Laudna in a long time, and maybe she likes the way this feels.

When she approaches, Laudna reaches out to take Imogen’s hand, and she can feel the tension leaving Imogen’s body as they touch.  Imogen stays close, and they walk hand in hand through the market.  Chetney sees the way the look at each other without speaking, and falls in line behind them, bringing up the rear of their group.

I’m glad you’re back.  Imogen says, and Laudna can almost feel the weight of those words.  There’s so much more that Imogen isn’t saying.

I’m glad to be back.  Laudna answers, and they both know it’s not Elder’s Post or even Jrusar that she means.  Because both of them still remember a hurried conversation from just a few days ago.  (“I forgot how much I hate it here.”)

They pause to let a large procession of dwarves with heavy packs trundle past, and Imogen leans against Laudna, practically clinging to her arm.  Laudna has noticed how much closer Imogen stands nowadays, how she won’t let Laudna out of her sight, how she’ll always position herself between Laudna and the likely direction of danger — even if they’re just wandering a market in Jrusar.  She catches Imogen looking at her intently sometimes, but Imogen will look away just as fast.  Imogen will inch closer, then shake her head and avert her eyes.

She’s doing it right now, but this time Laudna doesn’t turn towards her, doesn’t give away that she’s noticed.  She keeps her eyes firmly fixed forward, until Imogen’s face is right up against hers and Imogen’s breath is tickling her cheek.  And just before they start walking again because the dwarves have passed, Imogen’s lips brush against Laudna’s cheek with the faintest accidental smacking sound.

Imogen does look away then, embarrassed.  She starts walking without looking back, tries to pull her hand out from Laudna’s, but their fingers catch, pinkies hooked around each other. And Laudna holds tight.  Imogen still won’t meet her eyes, but as they stroll through the Elder’s Post with Laudna’s hand on her own cheek, their little fingers stay wrapped together.

[nctsjaemin]

Your Taeyong facecams set is amazing! ♡ post/674385189826330624/nct-127-taeyong-facecams. You seem to have the perfect balance of cool tones and warm in that set. Do you mind me asking how you get such vibrant, lustrous coloring without sacrificing quality, and without making faces unnaturally/overly red/orange? In other words, do you have any tips on how to get vibrant coloring and crisp gifs? Your help would be greatly appreciated! Happy New Year~ ♡

okk first things first! i’m so so sorry this answer is super late. i had this saved in my drafts for ages but i completely forgot to post this (that’s why it still say happy new year down below 😭😭). everything below this paragraph is what i meant to post earlier. again, i’m so sorry for how late this is. i’m such an idiot i should have checked if i had posted this yet, i thought i did but obviously not.

firstly, i just wanted to say thank you so much for your kind comments 🥺💕 it really means a lot and i'm glad you like my gifs. also happy lunar new year! i hope you had a great day if you celebrated ~

anywayyy onto colouring and ps help! tbh it really depends on the video you are giffing from. i find the number of adjustment layers required varies between videos. despite this, there are a few things that i always do to try to restore skin but it can get a bit complicated so i've tried to explain things more clearly below the cut!

(before i get started, i just wanted to put it out there that i am by no means a professional, nonetheless, i hope i can be of some help!)

tip #1: start off with a curves adjustment layer (note! this isn’t always necessary unless the lighting is really bad. if the lighting is ok, then you can skip this step and have selective colouring as your first adjustment layer. or go ahead and colour as you normally do.)

curves is a lifesaver when it comes to fixing dodgy lighting. this tool comes in handy especially when you're giffing live stages or comeback/fanmeeting vlives. i use the black colour dropper tool (shown below) and select a point on my image that should be the darkest colour (this could be somewhere on their mic/ headset, their hair, or something in the background). this should hopefully sort out the lighting to some extent and make your gif easier to colour after. in the taeyeon gif screenshot below, i think i selected the darkest colour to be a point on her glasses or her mic. (i can’t remember exactly because i made the gif last summer 😅).

(left: no psd, right: curves adjustment layer) i’m using screenshots from a taeyeon vlive gif as an example because vlives are notorious for having terrible lighting and weird filters. as you can see, the image on the left is the original vlive. the lighting for this video is really bad and the colours are really washed out. whereas on the right, after adding a single curves adjustment layer the colours are slightly more vibrant and there’s a greater contrast. 

tip #2: after using curves, i tend to use 2 layers of selective colour. the first layer i use is almost like a baseline for my colouring. i find it's easier to make small adjustments and slowly work my way to the final product. sometimes i might include an additional selective colour layer later on, but this really depends on the video i’m giffing from as some videos will require more/less changes. 

in terms of restoring skin, you should focus on changing the % levels of the colours: red, yellow, white and sometimes magentas and neutrals (underlined in image below.) 

in general, i find increasing the magenta and yellow % of these colours restore the skin (ex in image below.) you can also increase the black % levels to make the red/yellow colours darker. but if you find the skin is looking unnatural and too red/orange then don't be afraid to slightly decrease their levels and increase the % levels of cyan. i've come across a few skin restoration tutorials that talk about increasing only the red or yellow colour levels, but bear in mind skin tones involve all the primary colours, so adjusting the cyan or blue % levels of the reds/yellows can help the skin look more natural. reducing the black % levels for the reds can also help when your colouring is too strong or you’re giffing from a performance/mv with red lighting.

tip #3: use channel mixer, colour balance and hue/saturation

channel mixer, colour balance and hue/saturation are very similar to selective colour. they're just different ways of adjusting the hue levels of each colour in your image. if you have more questions about these settings then feel free to ask! (this tutorial will be too long if i explain here 😭)

tip #4: remove colours you don't want

you can do this via selective colour or hue/saturation. if there's a colour you don't want/need in your image then just remove it by putting the colour value as 0 or -100%. this helps to increase the quality of your gifs if there are less colours as this will reduce the file size, preventing tumblr from compressing your gif if it is too large.

tip #5: another curves layer

i add another curves layer at the end. but this time instead of using the colour-dropper tools, i adjust the RGB, red, green, and blue settings. (click on the drop-down list and then adjust by moving the curve at the centre point.) 

RGB - moving the curve upwards (towards the left, in the north-west direction) makes the image brighter; in the opposite direction it makes the image darker.

Red, Green, Blue - moving the curve upwards makes the image more red/green/blue and vice versa in the opposite direction. 

in the image below - i used the red setting as an example. if you move the curve by dragging it from the middle, in the direction of the black arrow, then the image will become have darker red tones. if you move it in the direction of the blue arrow the image will have less red tones.

tip #6: high-quality videos, vapour-synth, under 3mb

it sounds obvious, but the original quality of your video really matters. if you want hq gifs then gif from hq videos 👌 preferably 1080p (and higher) or ts files. with that being said, some 4k facecams' quality are terrible, so you'll notice in my facecam sets i've only giffed recent performances because their quality is better than the older ones.

i use vapour-synth to trim and sharpen my gifs. i wouldn't say this program is necessary but it does help! however, i know of many gif makers who don't use vapour-synth and only use ps, and their gifs are still really hq and sharp. a good alternative is using the smart-sharpen tool in ps and you can also add a gaussian blur layer over your image to make the sharpening look less harsh (just be sure to adjust the opacity% of your gaussian blur layer.)

keep your gifs under 3mb! otherwise, tumblr will compress them and make them look more grainy. 

tip #7: refer to your other gifs

to match the colouring in a set, i usually have my other gifs open in ps so that i can refer to them and check if the colours are similar. but honestly, i've found over time it's best not to be too pedantic over having matching, cohesive colouring. you don't need to stress over getting every gif to have similar colouring because it's not worth it. giffing on tumblr should be fun, so don't sweat it and just enjoy creating!

at the end of the day, i hope you can always enjoy creating content and have fun making gifs/gfx 😊 but once again, thank you so much for liking my gifs and i hope this tutorial made sense and was of some help to you 💕

final comparison (left: original no psd; right: final colouring) image below: screenshot of all my adjustment layers

[wannaberp]

— WHO IS ASAKURA TOUMA?

he’s a TWENTY-ONE year old wannabe, born APRIL 17, 2003. he’s currently eyeing STUDIO DELTA and lives by the words “the world is falling in love; an arrow of light pierces through my heart.”

maybe you should learn more or ask him a question.

▶ PLAY THE CLIP [ audition_tape.mp4 ]

touma doesn't think he'll get the results he's vying for, and even if he did he wonders whether he'll be able to continue onto the next stage. whether because of his mountain of family issues, or his own capabilities getting in the way. but he wants to at least try, he had spent years of his life dealing with everyone else's problems, he wants to do something for himself. for once. it's strange, and he kind of feels selfish about it—touma swallows that down and ignores it.

he finally turns on the camera, takes a deep breath, adjusts the angle and presses record.

"hi, nice to meet you! i'm asakura touma." he gives a friendly wave, lips pulled into a bright smile. "that's a-sa-ku-ra tou-ma. don't wear it out, okay?" he winks at the camera, inwardly cringing on himself afterwards. it does make him laugh though, eases out all the tension out of him. "sorry about that, i think i got a little carried away." hopefully those on the other end don't immediately click off after that charade.

eventually, touma turns the camera's attention to a lively powerpoint presentation behind him—it's edited to hell, colours and all, with a large text smack in the middle saying 'TOUMA'S POV'. he puts on his fake glasses and coughs, as if he's trying to get the attention of his rowdy classmates. "in today's class, i'll be telling you why you should pick me: asakura touma."

he goes to the next slide, showing baby pictures and more recent pictures. "as you can see, throughout most of my life i have a very charming smile. it can melt anyone's hearts, as pictured in attachment no. 47 where a random grandma was so charmed she pinched my cheeks until they're red." he pokes his cheek at the camera too, for good measure.

"next, i have a bunch of skills. one of them being, dancing." next slide, containing the words 'INSERT VIDEO: DANCING MANIAC TOUMA'. touma feigns panic as he says, "oh no, i forgot to put up a video! damn it past touma! i guess i'll just have to do it now!" it's all a part of the bit though as he does just that, moving his limbs in a practiced but freestyle manner, going all out even in this short audition tape. he has to wow everyone watching after all, so he goes for a fast-paced beat.

not out of breath yet, he moves onto the next slide. "ah, and this slide just tells me to start beatboxing... which, i can do." he picks a random beat and starts it up, going off for a few seconds or so. "i'm starting to think these slides are unfinished..." he wonders if his acting is even catching on at this point.

"oh, and here's my last slide. what the... all it says is glitter bomb the wall?" he blinks, pretending to be confused. after puzzled hums, touma eventually exclaims, "i get it!" he takes his spray cans and starts spraying paint on the walls. blue, purple, green—taking every colour into consideration as he makes another graffiti masterpiece behind him. it's something quick, but meaningful—a silhouette of a dancing man, vibrant and colourful.

"and... that's my time!" he says, hands covered in paint. "thank you for your attention on my presentation. you can e-mail me your questions if you'd like. asakura touma, off the stage!"

touma undoubtedly did something silly, for what is meant to be an audition tape, but he thinks it gives himself more personality. 

[dearcraziness]

Chapter 68.

The meal was held in a cozy atmosphere. Raindrops dripping down the glass filled the room with indescribable comfort, carefree sounds of drizzle played on the doors, as if on drums, expressively tapping the rhythm. The guys wanted to take a walk, stepping through puddles, catching fresh drops coming off the dull sky with their faces. First, they were going to complete the obligatory routine: wipe the dust on the shelves, hang the washed snow-white bed linen, make sure the hands on all the clocks are racing without delay. The musician collected the dirty dishes, put them in the sink and took up the sponge - suddenly he was stopped by Alice, who returned to the kitchen.

"Bendy, let me wash for you... Your leg is definitely tired from excessive stress..."

"Are you talking about the leg which I have preserved or about the stump that needs to grow?..."

"No, no, I meant the whole leg - it's not easy to stand on it alone, adjusting the balance..."

"It doesn't bring me much trouble... Have you already completed your tasks?..."

"Yes, there were only few... And I want to help you, please don't mind..."

"Okay, okay... I'll wipe clean dishes..."

"Only sitting..."

"Alice, I don't need..."

"Otherwise I'll tell Lara..."

"A curious threat... Well, I'm convinced... I don't want to disturb Larry unnecessarily..."

"You sometimes behave too stubbornly... Of course, I'm very sorry for you, but you'd better listen to our advice..."

"I'm not arguing, you're right... I just feel like I'm pretty far from the limit of my abilities..."

"Don't overestimate yourself... Now you should especially accept our support..."

"I don't reject it at all, on the contrary, I feel joy from your rays of kindness and responsiveness... Well done, you are successfully coping with housework..."

"Thank you... The last few weeks have made me wonder if it's difficult for you to control the state of the studio yourself..." the girl said, smoothly running a sponge over a wet plate.

"Nevermind, I enthusiastically look after the house, take care of the garden... In the meantime, you will have to for your favorite hobbies..."

"You will recover sooner than you can imagine... Hmm, strange..."

"Did you see a stain on the locker?..."

"On the contrary, a funny element... I almost forgot: a list of kitchen duties is attached near the refrigerator - it says: "Wednesday is Alice's turn." And what day of the week we have today?..."

"Exact the day you named... An unexpected coincidence..." the demon smiled, taking the cups and wiping off the accumulated moisture with a towel.

"That's right, I'm surprised... I remember we chose one day a week, and you got two days - Monday and Sunday..."

"In general, I didn't want to burden you, your morning - and the plan with the schedule failed... No one follows the order of duties written on a piece of paper..." the young man noted good-naturedly.

Alice giggled.

"As a result, you are in charge of the kitchen, seven times a week, all year round... Take at least a weekend until the end of the month..."

"Everyone insists on my break... I suppose resistance is useless..." the imp said jokingly.

"It will not be possible to evade a well-deserved rest..." the angel continued.

"We washed the dishes quickly... Let's put the set - and we are free..."

In the garden, the colours thickened overhead, the first leaves turned red on the maple, the last petals fell from the geranium buds, renewal and rebirth breathed from the moist soil. Friends were wandering around the withered flower beds - the only Bendy was sitting on a bench, spreading a battered terry towel. His pals joined him, Boris adjusted his fellow's crutches, which were set back on the bench, and craned his neck, watching the cool liquid descending like the others.

A downpour overtook the inseparable company, it was time to return to the studio. At home, in cloudy weather, the guys definitely and unanimously reading. Everyone chose a charming book for themselves, and epic plots momentarily captured the imagination, beautiful font words caressed the eye, the heroes of the stories politely led their dear guests to the land of wonderful literature.

In the evening, after dinner, the family arranged a sleepover in Bendy's room: Boris brought mattresses for himself and Alice, the imp took out board games from under a stack of folders and notebooks, handed out counters and throwed the dice first.

"Well, here we are again starting with the 'Dungeons'..." Boris drawled. "Bendy, except for you, no one likes the game related to the excavation of gems..."

"How so?..." the imp responded. "Lara really likes it, right, sunshine?..."

"Exactly, and the most fascinating stones are depicted on the task cards..." said the little devil.

"Bor, let's start with the game which Bendy wants, he, after all, must have privileges because of his health..." Alice intervened.

"Of course, of course... Buddy, today you have to choose the types of desktop entertainment..." the mechanic turned to the musician.

"I'll find leisure suitable for all of us..." the young man smiled. "For example, 'A trip around the world' , 'Difficulties of solutions', 'Tell or do' will suit you?..."

"Absolutely..." Boris agreed.

The others nodded approvingly.

"Fine, I'll get the boxes for now..." said the demon.

In the 'Dungeons', almost everyone unearthed the stones specified in the tasks, at one time, except for Boris, whose character was stuck searching for cymophanes, and didn't have time to discover tourmalines and demantoids.

'Difficulties of solutions' has long been liked by friends for its intriguing plot, forks of uncontrollable episodes. The point was that the heroes faced risky cases, the decision they made depended on whether their fate was in danger or they were free to make a further move. Only the figure of Bendy the lion and Lara the fish reached the end; Boris's silver dog got bogged down in the swamp, and Alice's emerald frog got lost in the chestnuts of the dense forest. Devils often applied their knowledge of probable plots, ways of developing the situation - as a result of the accumulated experience, they had more chances to win.

However, in 'Tell or do' it was important not to put a chip on the 'Finish' cell first, but to act according to what was written on the golden cardboard. If the task was difficult to implement, the participant read a question on the back, usually concerning the personal and intimate, but less points were given for the answer than for the original task.

As a result, Bendy became the winner everywhere during the evening, who received a huge number of points and bonuses for additional achievements. Moreover, others weren't offended or upset - the guys were happy for their friend and clearly enjoyed the game, laughing heartily and having fun.

"I missed our carefree sunny moments..." Bendy admitted dreamily. "In the Valley of the Abyss, even at night, tension and anxiety were felt: the fluttering of flying half-rats and half-pigs near the cave, the brisk running of fanged animals in the thicket of the forest brought fear and dismay..."

"You did a huge feat just because you could survive, Bendy..." Boris noted, a smile slipped off his face. "To endure terrible conditions, face the traps of nature and achieve phenomenal success is by no means an easy task, but you succeeded, now you have the right to be considered our guide to unknown lands: however, you have found a way out of difficult circumstances before..."

"Thank you, but we will not wander through dubious places... Soothing, inspiring landscapes are hidden in different dimensions... We will certainly visit them... In general, let's not be separated anymore - at least for a long time..."

"We won't let you go alone anymore..." Boris confirmed. "From now on we'll face the unknown shoulder to shoulder..."

"Don't scare us like that again..." Alice turned to the demon.

"I just wanted to get some rare gems for you..."

"And you have fulfilled your great mission, dear..." said Lara. "Remember, you were a hero for us before..."

"Your words are very touching, starlight... Bendy blushed." I'm grateful to everyone for your work, your efforts; I only wish to faciliate the restoration of order in the studio for you..."

"You've been working tirelessly around the house for us, now it's time for us to respond in kind, and you'll just relax, fix your health, and the troubles won't affect you..." Boris replied.

"And I'm not tired of them at all..." Bendy confessed.

"Bendy, rest for the next few weeks..." the demoness insisted.

"Agreed, Laurie..." Bendy smiled. "I think you will feel calmer without my impulses to take up a broom or put books on the shelves..."

"Certainly..." Boris responded. "By the way, Alice and I haven't seen the precious stones you brought, could you show us?..."

"No problem, I've already unpacked them, Lara and I were admiring them... They are called 'Stones of drops of love and ghostly dreams'..."

The imp took out the rocks found at the foot of the volcano's mouth from the casket. The mechanic and the angel held the crimson gems; the minerals showed their cherished dreams - they were similar to the desires of the devils. After the measured surges of amazement, delight, exultation, the guys wished good night and went to bed, immersed in charming, caressing dreams...

The glorious time of amber October reigned: a red blanket covered rowan trees, aspens, bird cherry trees; the soil, which hadn't dried out after the rains, absorbed the drops of the thundering downpour; the sultry air smelled of the aroma of pine nuts with fir cones - homemade sweet, tart brown jam immediately appeared in the imagination; leaves covered the dormant grass with a mosaic, were lulling it for winter torpor; woodpeckers were sitting on the dark branches, hollowing out dry bark overgrown with moss. Nature was listening to the cloudy weather - gloomy and thoughtful, but sensitive and attentive to the curious creatures sitting outside the window...

Bendy's situation improved noticeably - the wounds healed, the leg completely grew back, and before the others had time to blink an eye, the imp resumed his cooking, repair, cleaning duties. That day his tasks were of extremely special: the little devil rode along the railing of the spiral staircase, finding himself on the Observation Deck; he carefully wiped the metal shields behind which the mechanisms regulating the operation of the Ink Machine were functioning; the imp opened a small door at the baseboard and crawled along the Ventilation compartment. The road branched into three paths: Bendy turned left; at the end there was a bunch of wires, a fan was spinning behind the grille; the demon typed a code on the sensor window hanging on the next wall - the grid opened. The young man pressed the button on the foot at the bottom of the propeller - the device stopped. The devil unscrewed the components, removed the protective grilles, folded the blades, separated the fuse, disassembled the housing, control panel, motor shaft, replaced the inlet pipe, confuser, impeller, made sure of the suitability of the valves, engine, cleaned the aerodynamic impeller, air flow rectifiers, timer. The hardworking young man coped with his work not quickly - scrupulousness, thoroughness and caution were required. Bendy turned back and climbed out of the low, cramped passage, rushing into the Reading Room, closer to his family.

After a week of rains and storms, the rays of the sun were peeking through the clouds, illuminating the wet brown earth. The leaves have long since fallen, giving the trees a chance to rest and spreading a mosaic blanket near them. The trunks stood motionless, caressed by the south wind, which wasn't typical for autumn weather. Nature listened to the sounds of silence.

Friends took the opportunity and waved to the 'Rainbow Land' - an amusement park located in the heart of the City of Black and white creatures, next to the 'Fun Fair'. However, first it was necessary to have breakfast, something light, because the guys were going to ride on the 'Colour Slides'. Bendy came in to Boris, loudly announcing, "Breakfast is ready, buddy! Come to the kitchen!"

The noise of the working hair dryer drowned out the imp's words, the wolf didn't hear him. The wizard approached and saw a strange picture - Boris was drying his shirt on the desk.

"Buddy, breakfast is ready, everyone is already in the kitchen, let's go." repeated the young man.

"What? Say it louder."

"I say, breakfast is ready! Let's go, otherwise it will cool down."

"Eh? I don't know whether the result will be successful from drying!..."

"For the sake of... Please turn off your hair dryer for a minute!..."

"Wait, I'll turn off the hair dryer now... So, were you going to help me? I don't mind, but I promised Alice this time to clean my room myself..."

"Actually, I called you to the kitchen..."

"Oh, breakfast is ready... And I'm drying my things..."

"Why?... They dry perfectly in the Ironing Room..."

"I found an accelerated way - I'd rather hang them in the closet, then I'll cope with household chores faster... Well, I thought things would level out, but they remained crumpled..."

"Without an iron, it won't be possible to level them. You'd better iron on a special table."

"In the room assigned to this activity, I understand. There will be no rest for me, eh..."

"First, eat while it's hot..."

"And I'll recharge with energy, gain strength. Let's go."

The pancakes with strawberries, fragrant ginger tea left a nice honey aftertaste, and friends were ready to go. The young men gathered their backpacks and, together with Lara and Alice, set off on their way.

Friends were surrounded by figures of huge cupcakes, cookies, standing at the golden gate. A path of multicoloured pebbles branched off, leading to a kiosk with ice cream of multi-tiered fillings, with popcorn, cotton candy and other goodies; to the shadow theater and puppet theater; to the laughter room; to the Ferris Wheel, shaped like a castle with pointed towers. The guys looked around the City from it, observing previously unknown areas, ancient structures, amazing fortresses, glass windows and balconies of skyscrapers, seashores and sandy beaches. In a matter of minutes, Bendy, Lara, Alice and Boris clearly cheered up and with an enthusiastic look rushed to the second attraction - 'Madness Is Near' - a tall roller coaster with spiral turns and sharp jumps. After sitting in the fire-coloured chairs and strapping themselves in, the guys went up, from the orange scaly metal tail to the top of the giant dragon. The frenzied speed, the stormy breeze, penetrating thoroughly and diligently, the cries of desperate daredevils who decided to take a ride, the crowns of trees almost under their feet covered the heart with fright, anxiety, interest, adrenaline raging in their blood, excited the imagination. After riding, their heads were a little dizzy, inspired by moths of joy and enthusiasm - a sense of balance slowly returned. Bendy gently took Lara by the waist, she leaned on him in order to reach the undulating bench faster, to rest near the artfully planted palm trees. Pals were sharing their emotions, chose the next place in the entertainment world. Nearby there was a low house made like a gingerbread one - friends opened the door decorated with artificial pretzels, lollipops, marshmallows and entered the 'Room of Crooked Mirrors'.

Undoubtedly, most Ink Creatures were able to change their shape by themselves, by their magic, but sometimes they were curious to see funny variations of their appearance without using spells. For many, the view remained only funny; however, Bendy was looking attentively at the distorted self, trying to remember the details in order to come home, reincarnate and draw himself in an unusual, intricate form.

In the Tunnel of Secrets, because of the low light, friends barely could see statues of magicians in lace robes, books flying overhead, massive chests dug into the ground, abstract paintings on the walls of the cave, iridescent smooth stones lying right by the rails; even the outlines of the trolley, in which pals were riding, weren't clearly visible - only smooth lines, decorated with stars and small ripples could be seen. Nevertheless, the trip to the dungeon was remembered by visitors, especially the story of an unknown bass voice about the life of the townspeople before the construction of the amusement park - there were sources of open continuous energy in its place, which was later hidden for safekeeping in five fortresses located in different parts of the city and beyond: the Temples of Light, Silence, Peace, Wisdom, Patience.

After leaving the tunnel, friends came out on a path of light yellow cobblestones, surrounded on both sides by a fresh lawn and bright flower beds of petunias, begonias, cornflowers, dahlias. Striped tents were flaunted near, the voices of absolutely small guests rang, kind invitations were heard - a sign with a bouncing font and a sweeping inscription was flashing at the top: 'Fun Fair'. Since there has been no monetary system in the City since time immemorial (and the issue of the gratuitous purchase of things was resolved), goods were allowed to be taken just like that from the raspberry counters, however, the employees behind them enthusiastically described the presented figurines, accessories, miniature watches, ceramic dishes, knitted pads made with their own hands or found in other magnificent dimensions. Bendy took a frog figurine, a clay sugar bowl for himself and a set of cups and saucers of pale blue color with blue edging, horizontal streaks for Lara; Boris put in his backpack a wooden box with drawings of gears and nuts carved on it - his find, and hairpins in the shape of hearts, elastic bands with daisies - at the request of Alice. The rest of goods friends were just watching, blossoming into a smile, sometimes exclaiming with admiration, surprise, expressing their observations, revealing their own preferences.

About an hour passed, and the line didn't end. Boris couldn't stand it and said, "Let's go sit down for a while, but it's better to have a snack. And then the breakfast was so light."

"That's right, because I proceeded from taking into account our visit to the park and riding the roller coaster." Bendy explained.

"I know, I'm not complaining at all. I would like to meet an open-air cafe..."

"There are so many of them, take a look: we are approaching the 'Delicious Corner'!..."

"Great, so we won't stay hungry..."

"In the meantime, let's remember the wonderful features of today's hike and reflect on possible places we would visit next."

As soon as the imp uttered the phrase, the edges of his mouth dropped lower - he became sad, accidentally finding a dark-haired boy sitting at a distance with his back to the others on a chestnut bench. The young man felt uneasy, confusion burst into his soul: he looked at the young man with pity and sympathy, turned to the guys, saying, "I'll first make sure everything is fine with one guest of the park - what if he got lost and tired of looking for a way out of here..."

[galaxelle]

The Charity train (1/4) a short story

Chapter 1 : The welcome

In a luxurious wagon waiting at the train station leading to London, a young gorgeous little girl named Angela was adjusting her new red uniform. It was the first ride of her life, but also her first real job. As a hostess of the newly inaugurated charity train of Davington Company, Angela couldn't be prouder. She worked so hard to get there... A smile made its way on her lips after admiring the final result of herself on the other side of the mirror. An amazing woman with a pure heart and true values stared back. She was so excited about the role she was about to fill.

"Hey! New girl. They'll arrive in two minutes."

Too absorbed in her reflection, she forgot about her first assignment: welcoming the new passengers. Angela took a deep breath. You can do it, Angel, you're the best! she told herself with motivation and walked to the entrance of the train. The doors opened thirty seconds later letting the hostesses welcoming smiles shine out in the open.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the Charity train of Davington Company, please show me your tickets and I will help you find your place."

The same speech could be heard at others entrances on the train. All the hostesses grinned like they were honoured to help poor, sick, coloured immigrants but their appearances are just masks to hide the truth. After all, they were having one hell of a salary for their work. Only Angela wore none, the stars in her eyes couldn't be faked.

The first one to get on board to her entrance was a black veteran with a missing arm. You couldn't see many hairs left on the passenger's skull and many warts found their selves a place on the wrinkled face.

Angela truly felt sorry. It was one thing to talk about war, but another to be part of it.

"Welcome, Mister. May I see your tickets please?"

The veteran looked at her with sad eyes and gave her the paper.

"I wished I still had some breast left like your young lady, but sickness and battles took everything."

When Angela understood her misinterpretation, she felt so stupid that her face almost showed a wince. Welcoming passengers is a task simple enough but knowing that she might have failed for the first one slowed her confidence down.

"My deepest apologies my lady", she replied covering her fault with a little grin. "For your place, it's two wagons left, seat number forty-two."

Asshole! She told herself when the old woman passed her.

The next passenger had small squinted eyes and black smooth hair. He didn't talk well the tong and looked like an immigrant from Asia. She tried to be as comprehensible as possible, but she rapidly noticed that the man in front of her did not have all the neurons connected in his head. The guy seemed to talk to other voices only he could hear. She did her best to listen through his word to understand his intention or explanation, but Japanese was not something you could guess, especially when you never really heard the language. At some point, the guy began to get angry and shout. She didn't feel scared or threatened, only sadden by the fact she had no clue why he was mad.

Contrary to what she should have done, she didn't call the guards. They will have to expel him from the passage, she thought. Even if it was a charity transport, it didn't prevent people working there from being racist or heartless. Mr. Davington, the creator of the company, wasn't there to supervise everything and everyone. Though if the Asian guy continued to yell like this, it won't be long before someone come to her rescue and neutralize him.

Hopefully, someone behind him started talking his language. The man turned around, still mad, but rapidly calmed down when he heard a familiar voice. After a minute or two, he turned back at Angela and bent his body to say.

"Hontōni gomen'nasai."

His apologies were clear enough for her and the ticket was given. She, once again, simply smiled with her radiant dimples and welcomed him in and trying her best to indicate his seat. She strongly hoped that nothing will go wrong with the upcoming passenger because if everybody was to give her a hard time or humiliation like the two before, she didn't know how she would make it through all of them.

Though the person stepping in the entrance was, again, a particular case.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: Just so you’re aware, this takes place during the mid-60s and Lee is a little older than in the movie :) Just so you’re not confused.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You felt alone on campus. 

When you got your acceptance, your parents swore it would be the experience of a lifetime, not to mention the value of education. Always the quiet one, withdrawn and wispy, the thought of moving away from home and living among strangers made you nervous. 

Your first day in the dormitory assured you of your doubts and a semester in, you were still the sore thumb among the six girls in your unit. Your lectures were your sole respite from the pressure to make friends and fit in. You were always early and always intent on the professor.

That was what you were there for after all. If you wanted to hold onto your bursary, you had to maintain your average. You couldn’t be like the other students; you didn’t have rich parents or a trust fund, your degree actually had to mean something.

That night, you walked back from the evening book club meeting alone, as usual. You signed up in hopes you might meet someone like yourself, someone who didn’t just want to drink or smoke. While the members weren’t interested in the party life, they made you feel awful stupid as you struggled to pick up on the same themes in your readings and your sharing skills were never strong. 

When it was your turn to talk about the chapter, you stuttered and muttered until you just gave up. You replayed the disastrous meeting in your head, the used copy of Nabakov under your arm as your bag swung against your side. 

The sky turned a deepening azure as you reached Greek row and heard the muffled crackle of a record player and the buzz of voices from the largest of white houses painted with their respective fraternity colours. It was that new kind of music, the kind that made you want to hop, the kind the Christian club lobbied against on campus green.

As you got further down the street, the late winter crisp crawled up your thick stockings and made you shiver. You got closer to the raucous façade and watched as a couple stumbled out in bubbly conversation and quickly embraced against a pillar of the porch. You kept your head down and focused on the sidewalk.

A flash of blue and the ‘wop’ of a siren brought you to a halt. You stopped just at the corner of the frosty yard, the cloudy breath of the co-eds filling the air as they parted. The cruiser door opened and closed loudly and steady footsteps crossed the street. You watched from the shadows as the officer strode up the walk and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, propping his foot up on the lowest plank.

“You kids are bein’ awfully loud,” his voice carried above the din, he had the local accent that lilted his tone so that even the meanest words were dampened.

“Sorry, officer,” the girl pulled away from the boy and came to the top of the steps, “it’s Friday and we were just having fun--”

“Yeah, yeah,” the cop said as he hooked his thumb on his belt, “y’all know I’m here every week… you turn that racket down or maybe I come in and find something that needs confiscatin’.”

“Got it,” the frat boy said as he stood beside the girl, “I’ll tell Leighton.”

“Ain’t fun for me neither,” the officer slid his foot down to the ground, “I don’t like to ruin you kids’ night.”

“Thank you, officer,” the boy said, “I’m goin’ now.”

“Mhmm, I’ll see you next week then,” the cop scoffed as the boy grabbed the girl and dragged her inside. His voice called through the noise of the crowd for the boy Leighton and the music dulled just enough that it was only a subtle hum, “funny kids.”

The officer turned and chuckled as he reached into his jacket. He paused and his eyes wandered over to you as you stood silently by the edge of the yard. He pulled out a small box and tapped out a toothpick as he smiled at you. He replaced the box in his pocket as he stopped short.

“You headin’ in, girl?” he asked as he placed the toothpick between his lips, “looks like you late for the party.”

“Uh, no, I was just… going home,” you slowly urged yourself forward, “didn’t want to get in your way.”

You tapped towards him in your mary janes as you adjusted the book in your hand. He watched you approach as you kept your head down, just wanting to get past and get on to your dorm.

“Hold up,” he said just as you reached him, “you walkin’ home all alone after dark?”

“My dorm is just… just around the corner,” you said as you stopped and kept your eyes on his shoes, “thank you, officer.”

“Now, I don’t care if it’s just right there, you shouldn’t be alone,” he insisted, “how’s bout a ride, hmm? I gotta make a round of the campus anyway.”

“I can make it on my own…” you began and he tutted, “I mean, thank you, I suppose it’s rude to… um…”

“You’re not from these parts, huh?” he asked, “you got that accent. Real fine.”

“Uh uh,” you uttered, “it’s a nice place though.”

“City is, but the rest of the county...” he remarked, “you must be far from home then.”

“A little,” you shrugged.

“Well,” he rubbed his hands together, “let’s get goin’, it’s cold tonight.”

“Thank you, again,” you slowly followed him as he backed away and turned to cross the street.

“Not at all,” he said warmly as he neared the car and pulled open the back door, “one thing, it’s against policy to let passengers in the front seat.”

“Oh?” you blinked and looked into the cruiser, “I can walk, I--”

“Go on,” he waved you in, “probably comfier back there anyhow.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile and slid into the back seat. You swept your bag up into your lap as the door snapped shut and tucked the book under the flap. The car shifted as he got in the front and he looked at you in the wide rear view mirror.

“Mind my manners, I didn’t even introduce myself, Sheriff Bodecker,” he jingled his keys as he spoke, “and you, honey?”

You hesitated at the added pet name. No one ever called you anything but ‘miss’ or ‘young woman’. You cleared your throat and shifted as you tugged nervously at your scarf as it pressed against your chin. It was damp from your hot breath. You gave him your name and shrank back against the leather.

“This your first year?” he asked as he pulled out and tossed his toothpick out the window.

“Yes, sir,” you answered and you saw his head tilt just slightly as he drove slowly.

“You like it?” he continued.

“It’s… new,” you said stiffly, “I don’t know many people but I… I’m learning a lot.”

“Oh, I hear they teach lots of interesting things these days. Lotta red nonsense,” he sighed, “which way am I goin’, honey?”

“Left, sir, the third building on your right with the orange brick,” you replied.

“No parties to go to?” he snickered as he came up to your dormitory and rolled to a stop.

“I… I’m not much for them, sir,” you said as you tried the handle but the door didn’t budge.

“Sorry, forgot about that,” he got out and opened the door from outside, “there ya go.”

You stepped out and your foot slipped on a patch of thin ice. You caught yourself on the door as he grabbed your arm and helped steady you. You laughed nervously and thanked him.

“Careful there,” he said, “hate for you to mess up that face, honey.”

“I’m alright,” you assured him and carefully drew away from him, “thank you for the ride, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s just my job,” he sniffed, “you know, keepin’ the campus safe… when I can.”

“I’m sure you have much more to worry about than some college kids,” you said.

“Eh, you’d be surprised,” he intoned, “I’m around on Fridays, there’s always noise complaints ‘round here.”

You were quiet, unsure what to say or how to detach yourself gracefully. You just wanted to go inside and listen to the radio as you reread the chapter. You smiled nervously and he looked down at you beneath the streetlight.

“I might see you around,” he said, “and don’t mind givin’ ya another ride, ya know? Can’t have you lost in the dark, heh.”

“It’s nice of you, sir, but I’m grown now, I can take care of myself,” you assured him, though you hated how black it got on this side of campus.

“Well, don’t be shy, give me a wave if you see me,” he closed the door as you sidestepped it, “and you have a good night. Get yourself warmed up with some nice tea… though I know you college kids prefer a harder comfort.”

“I don’t drink,” you said awkwardly, “but, uh… good night, officer.”

You went around the back of the car and stepped up onto the curb. You went up to the grated door and fished out your key. You peeked over your shoulder as you unlocked the door and found the Sheriff watching you over the roof of his car. 

His large-brimmed hat shadowed his face and his constant gaze sent a shiver through you, but that could’ve been the nightly chill. You gave a small wave and let yourself in, quickly hiding behind the inner door, happy to be home safe.

[myathesimpp]

Sweater Weather

From my wattpad - myathesimp

F/C - Favorite Colour

C/N - Crushes Name

Y/N - Your name

P/G - Popular Girl that you hate tehee

F/N - Friend name

S/N - School name

******

God it's freezing out here. This is what I get for waking up late. I walked towards the school, my teeth chattering and my body as cold as ice. Of course I forgot my jacket. My F/C sweater drenched in snow and ice.

As I walked into S/N I saw C/N, my best friend, with P/G. God how I hate her. She was clinging onto C/N like her life depended on it. As I walked over to them he gave me a pleading look and I stifled a laugh.

"Oh look its Y/N, gotta go!" He tried breaking from her grasp but she held tight.

"Hey C/N! P/G would you mind trying to keep his arm on his body. We would like that very much wouldn't we, C/N?"

"God Y/N you're such a bother, clearly C/N doesn't care and doesn't want you around right now. Shoo along with your ugly F/C sweater and get outta here."

"Well excuse me. Just because you're popular doesn't mean you have to be mean thank you very much. Also my sweater is very pretty for your information. All you wear is grey thinking its cute, but honey its not a fashion statement, or a look at all. Sorry to break it to ya."

"I- well- hmph." She scoffed and walked away stomping every few steps.

"God you are a life saver, Y/N." C/N gave me a high five and I blushed at the sudden contact.

Time skip because I'm lazy ~

"Okay like I was saying, shouldn't a green and a red pepper be also counted as a fruit?! Also shouldn't a tomato and avocado be counted a fruits too? They do have seeds you know."

"No no no. Y/N they aren't sweet like fruits so they shouldn't be counted as them."

"Would you two stop arguing like an old couple and eat your damn food!" F/N snapped in our faces to get our attention.

"Oh please F/N. Go hang out with P/G if you don't want us talking like an old couple." C/N snapped in F/N's face and I laughed.

"Ew that snake, never."

Another time skip, you're welcome ~

"Bye F/N! See ya later!" I waved at F/N and turned my focus on the floor.

C/N and I were walking to my house to study. It was freezing out. Plus the worst part is, is that my sweater got completely ruined when P/G spilled coffee all over me at lunch, and of course my stupid teacher took it away from me.

"Hey Y/N you're shivering. Here take my sweater."

"No no its fine, I'm fine! No need to worry."

"You're really stubborn aren't you. Here take it." He pulled off his sweater and handed it to me.

"Thanks..." I pulled it over my head and adjusted it. It was huge on me. Plus I was as red as a tomato which makes everything so much better.

I never, and I mean ever, told anyone about my huge crush on C/N. He was my best friend since elementary. As we neared my house I had a butterfly feeling in my stomach. Its not that I don't want him in my room its just that no one is home... anything can happen when no one is home.

"I'm gonna head to the bathroom meet you up there." I walked into my room and went into my closet to put my shoes away. Before I turned around I felt a presence behind me.

"You know, you look very cute wearing my sweatshirt. Just imagine how much better it looks on your floor." C/N slide his hands around my waist and whispered in my ear. A shiver went down my spine and I blushed crimson red.

"C/N stop making fun you already know how flustered I get when you do that." I turned around to face him, our faces centimeters apart.

"But what if I wasn't making fun..."

"Oh please as if. All you do is- Mmph~" C/N pulled me into a passionate kiss. He arms snaked around my waist as he pulled me closer to him.

Let's just say that the sweater did end up on the floor that day.

[aethwrs]

Magic

Agnes/Agatha Harkness x Reader

══════════════════════

Agatha was lost in her thought while feeding and petting Señor Scratchy, when suddenly a loud knock on the door pulled her out of her trance.

Adjusting her plaid black and white dress and now holding the surprisingly big and soft rabbit between her arms, she made her way to the door, walking and swinging her hips exaggeratedly.

Pushing the door open, she was shocked to see a new face, since it was almost impossible for her to not notice when someone new arrived to Westview… she should’ve sensed it.

Agatha realised that she had been staring questioningly at the lady in front of her for a longer time that she should have, when such lady waved her hand close to her face trying to get her attention.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” the woman said, thinking she had scared her new neighbour since Agatha’s face still showed nothing other than a sceptical expression, which she immediately changed to a dazzling and distracting smile. “I- I am y/n by the way, I’m new here”

“Oh no, darling! You didn’t scare me, you’re actually quite a sight if you ask me” Agatha winked and looked her up and down, her shameless attempt of flirting working perfectly since the next thing she saw were y/n’s cheeks turning a soft pink colour, only making Agatha’s amused grin get bigger. “My name’s Agnes, it’s lovely to meet you” she moved aside, linking arms with her newest neighbour and leading her into the house.

Y/n thought that people in the town were boring, what she never thought was that she would meet someone like Agnes, who even after just some minutes of barely talking was already driving her crazy in the best possible way.

Sitting on an old-fashioned, yet stylish couch, waiting for Agnes to come back from the kitchen with the tea she said she’d bring, y/n picked up from the coffee table a book with a black cover and purple letters, being the curious person that she was, she opened it and started reading or trying to read what was written inside it. Not a single word seemed to make sense for her and just when she was about to continue searching thought the pages, Agatha appeared on the door frame of the living with a tray full of cookies and two cups of hot tea.

Almost dropping everything on the floor when she saw the book in y/n’s hands, Agatha didn’t hesitate before taking away the book with her free hand and placing it in the wooden bookcase. Her sudden actions confused the other woman, who just looked at her in silence until Agatha’s voice broke the silence.

"Wanda forgot this diary here, I’ll return it to her later” she chuckled, taking one of the cups of tea and offering it to y/n who gladly accepted it and completely shrugged off the previous book situation. “Well dear, tell me about yourself, someone like you must have a pretty interesting life” Agatha spoke trying to start conversation, only to see a frown appear on y/n’s forehead.

"This might sound weird but…I can’t remember anything” y/n almost whispered the last part, resting her hands on her temple and trying to remember something…anything…about herself. Looking up at Agatha, who was staring at her with a plain expression on her face, she simply started laughing.

The laugh of the cheery woman was reason enough for Agatha to start laughing too.

"Oh darling, you're something else" Agatha teased making y/n roll her eyes playfully, both of them still trying to catch their breaths after laughing.

"I'll take the compliment, Agnes" y/n winked, the same thing Agatha had done a few moments ago, this time causing the brunette to blush slightly.

"Oh please do" Agatha responded, wondering how could it be so easy for them to talk freely when they had just met.

Before both of them could realise, the moon had risen and it was night time, meaning that they've been talking all the afternoon.

With the promise of seeing each other any other time soon, y/n walked down to her house not knowing that someone couldn't keep her out of their mind.

__________________________________

As promised, both of them continued to hang out together even if it was for dinners at each other’s houses or just to take a walk around the town.

They were inseparable. Not that any of them would want it other way.

But the truth was that as the time passed, both women started developing feelings for each other. Feelings that were stronger than the ones that two persons who were just friends would have.

Many people in the town would think that they were together but none of them was brave enough to ask.

__________________________________

The day of the talent’s show had arrived and Agatha and y/n decided that they’d go together as a comedy duo.

Once their little show was done, they sat on a table with the rest of the public, currently watching Wanda and Vision’s act, which was anything but normal.

As their show kept getting weirder and weirder, y/n started to think that there was something wrong going on. Looking at her friend willing to tell her how concerned she was, she couldn’t help but notice something that looked like purple mist coming from Agatha’s hands as she moved her fingers carefully, not noticing the face of pure fear and shock on y/n’s face as she watched her do that.

“Agnes….?” y/n asked, her voice coming out as a low whisper whilst she continued staring at the other woman’s hands.

Agatha turned her head to look at her after hearing her name, the smile she had disappearing almost instantly once she noticed the fear written on the younger lady’s face.

“What’s going on, darling? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost” She chuckled and with her hand reached for y/n’s cheek, only for her to push it away still with the same expression as before. “y/n-”

“Your hands…you were-” she mimicked Agatha’s hand movements making the beautiful witch realise the problem. “They were glowing…what was that, Ness?”

Agatha sighed, her eyes turning a deep shade of purple as she looked at y/n with sadness, knowing what she should do next. “My name’s Agatha” she watched as y/n let out an audible gasp, suddenly feeling overly overwhelmed. “and I’m sorry, dear” she whispered, with her hands directing a wave of purple mist straight to y/n’s head that for her surprise, was stopped midway.

“No!” y/n stammered and put her arms up in defence.

Out of the blue, a shiny blue spark came from y/n’s hands which stopped Agatha’s attempt of controlling her. Agatha was left speechless whilst y/n couldn’t believe what just happened.

That blue mist came from her. She did that.

She was scared of herself.

Not wasting any second, she got up from her chair and trying not to drag anyone’s attention towards her, ran to the nearest empty room

Agatha knew how scared she was; it didn’t take a genius to realise that. Y/n had seen her manipulate the show with her magic and at the same time, realised that she had magic too. If there was someone who could help with that, Agatha knew that it was herself.

Getting out of that talents show and making up an excuse to tell to Dottie,Agatha ran behind y/n, finding her sitting in the corner of a dark room, apparently crying.

Slowly approaching her, Agatha knelt besides y/n, gently moving her hair away from her face. The action made y/n flinch and trying to calm her shaky body, she whispered “Please don’t hurt me”.

Hurt flashed through Agatha’s features as the simple thought of y/n thinking she’d hurt her. She could never do that but even if she didn’t want to accept it, she knew the reason she’d say such thing.

“I could never do that, I just want to help you with your magic” she admitted, to which y/n looked up at her with her eyes red from crying.

“I don’t want it” after some seconds of silence, y/n expressed in a barely audible tone that Agatha wasn’t able to hear.

“I can’t hear you” the blue eyed woman said in a sympathetic way, waiting for an answer.

“I don’t want to have magic, Agn- Agatha!”y/n restated, her tone of voice certainly taking Agatha by surprise. “It’s dangerous”

“You’re right, it is but only when you don’t know how to control it” Agatha’s voice softer than usually, trying not to make y/n freak out more than she already was. “and like I said, I can help with that”

“No” y/n whispered with her shaky voice and frantically shook her head, the panic once again setting on her body and her overwhelming emotions causing her to lose the only bit of control she had over her magic, making all the objects in the room start shaking and some of them fly uncontrollably. “Stop this” she said not knowing that she was the one in control.

“I can’t, I’m not the one doing this” Agatha took y/n's hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze and looking her right into her eyes. “you have to calm down, ok? Look at me, doll”

“I can’t control this, I can’t!” tears rolled freely down y/n’s cheeks as she feared herself and what she was doing. As the seconds passed, everything seemed to get worse. The sound of objects breaking against the walls, strong gusts of wind blowing through the windows and her sobs filled the room.

Running out of ideas, Agatha thought about the only things that was left to do that could possibly help.

Gently holding y/n’s cheeks, she kissed her. It was a sweet and soft kiss, not rushed at all and even if it shocked her at first, y/n found herself kissing Agatha back, eventually stopping thinking and just focusing on the kiss they were sharing, putting all her emotions in it and letting go of all of her worries. Running out of air, they pulled back. Their foreheads in contact with each other’s and little smiles showing on their faces, none of them daring to open their eyes, scared of ruining the moment.

“You made it stop, see?” Agatha broke the silence, as she always did. “I promise I’ll help you”

Opening her eyes to look at Agatha, y/n smiled shyly at her. “Thank you” was the only thing she said before going silent and then opening her mouth to speak again. “for the help…and the kiss too” she faced the floor, her rosy cheeks and shy behavior being the cutest things Agatha had seen and that she definitely loved about her.

“There’s no need to thank me, sweetheart.”y/n smiled brightly at the pet name, loving how it sounded coming from Agatha. “I like you, a lot and I know that I should have told you the truth sooner but I didn’t want to scare you” now it was y/n’s turn to be shocked.

Did she hear that right?

Did Agatha say that she liked her?

“You…like me?” she questioned just to make sure she’d heard that right, receiving a nod from Agatha. “Well, I like you too and I’m not scared of you, even if I was more than shocked” she laughed but Agatha definitely didn’t want to waste more time.

She pulled her into another kiss, this one shorter than the first one but it was all they both needed. They both had each other now and she didn’t want to ruin it. She promised to herself that there would be no more lies because hiding things from y/n didn’t turn out as good as she thought it would be, but she knew she could do better.

“You’re going to be powerful, dear, I have no doubts” Agatha stated proudly “and I’ll be here to watch it”

Embracing her into a bone crushing hug, y/n took some time to look at their surroundings, realizing the big mess that was dispersed all around the room.

“I hate ruining the moment but if we don’t want to get caught and have to clean this room, I’d suggest we go away now” y/n whispered near Agatha’s ear causing both of them to erupt on giggles as they made their way out of the room.

[lailyn]

Could I ask for an IronStrangeFrost drabble of sick or whumpee Loki with the reproductive system please? 👀❤️

Here ya go, my lovelies!

Immaterial Love

Summary: Stephen and Tony bicker over the cost of a cheeseburger. The actual price? More than they can afford.

TW: Mpreg Loki

Somewhere in Manhattan…

“I think we should get the Beebop Ferrari Baby Buggy.”

Stephen made a face. “Ferraris are overrated.”

“Yeah, wait till Lamborghini makes strollers and then we’ll talk.”

“If we’re going designer, why aren’t we getting actual designer strollers? Silver Cross has some really nice ones, even if they cost more than my annual stipend.”

“While we’re on the subject, how much is your stipend? You never told me.”

“You never asked.”

A smooth voice suddenly spoke up from behind. “Ten thousand dollars.”

Stephen’s eyes bulged at Loki; Tony’s at Stephen. “How did you know that?” “That’s all? For the whole year?”

Loki shrugged. “That’s how much an average Silver Cross pram costs. I needed only to work backwards.”

Tony looked like he was about to cry so Stephen boldly grabbed him around the shoulders. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Tony shook his head furiously. “I don’t care. I’m giving you my black card.”

Stephen wrinkled his nose at the obscenely generous gesture. “Materialism is unsustainable by nature. Why do you think I wear the same outfit all the time?”

He then turned to Loki. “And what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”

“I’ve rested enough. I am hungry. I want a cheeseburger.”

Stephen still looked doubtful. “You were vomiting quite a lot this morning. You sure you’re up to eating something so greasy?”

Loki only gazed at his husband coolly and said nothing.

“Aaand it’s a cheeseburger you shall have, darling!” Tony forgot all about his empathising with Stephen and his poor pittance. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“It’s only going to make him sick!” Stephen hissed back.

“Then let him be sick! You can always stick an IV in him if it gets too bad, can’t you?”

“There’s a difference between indulging and being stupid and careless.”

Loki cleared his throat. “You do know I can hear every single word you say, don’t you?”

“That was kind of the point,” Stephen said. He was willing to bear the brunt of Loki’s wrath if Tony wouldn’t. “You are carrying our child.”

Loki’s eyes began to well.

“Stephen…” Tony moaned.

But Stephen would not budge. “Just trust me on this, okay? Let’s get something else. Anything you want.”

“I do not want anything else,” Loki said so tightly there was no mistaking the wobbling of his lips.

“He’ll get a salad for side. No fries.” Tony’s frantic gaze vacillated between his two fuming husbands. “Deal?”

Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in frustration. Bad feeling aside, he wished his husbands could take his words at face value and stop arguing with him. “I am telling you it is a bad idea.”

“Fuck this.” Tony threw his hands up and strode across the street to get to the McDonalds at the end of the block -

“Tony, look out!”

Tyres screeched. A woman screamed.

One second Tony was jaywalking, the next he was flying.

Oh, fantastic. I’m finally gonna be a dad. Now I have to be dead.

“Tony!” Someone shouted.

“Huh?” He lifted his head off the sidewalk. “Whuzzat?”

He tried to rise but someone’s arm was slung across his back. He recognised from the weight that it was Loki’s.

“Are you alright, Anthony?” Loki asked tersely, still breathless from the hard landing.

Horns blared. The sounds of heavy running.

“Tony, you idiot!” Stephen hollered. “What were you thinking?”

“You...pushed me out of the way?” Tony asked numbly. He pawed Loki up and down from head to toe. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine…” Loki walked his elbows and knees across the concrete and tried to push himself up before Stephen caught him by the elbow.

“Easy.” Stephen looked him over anxiously. “Are you hurt?”

Loki shook his head. “I am unharmed.”

Overwhelmed with relief, Stephen exhaled shakily. “All this over a cheeseburger.”

Tony’s face burned. “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Loki stressed. “Stop fussing.”

Stephen shook his head before pressing fierce kisses to the sides of Loki and Tony’s heads, one after the other. “Come on. I’m buying.”

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but Stephen cut him off. “No fries, right? I’m sure I can afford that much.”

A short while later, they were sitting at a table and staring at the food in front of them silently.

After his close brush with death, Tony found his appetite completely nonexistent. He grinned weakly. “I’m suddenly not very hungry.”

“Well, I am.” With a roll of his eyes, Stephen picked up his fork and began attacking the salad Loki was never going to eat. He paused in the middle of bringing a cherry tomato to his mouth upon noticing the wince on Loki’s face. “Loki? You alright?”

Roused from his daydream, Tony looked up in alarm as Loki slowly rose to his feet, a hand pressed to his stomach. “Bambi, what is it?”

“I need to go to the washroom,” Loki mumbled. “Excuse me.”

But before he could take the first step, he swayed right where he stood and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Shit - ” Stephen leapt out of his seat and caught his husband on the way down. He laid Loki on the floor. “Loki!”

“Stephen,” Tony called out suddenly.

Stephen followed the line of Tony’s horrified gaze, and his face drained of all colour at the sight of blood pooling on the plastic chair, a stark red against the unforgiving yellow.

A shaky hand grabbed the front of Stephen’s robe.

“Stephen.” Loki was as white as a sheet. “I don’t feel very well.”

“You’re going to be okay.” Stephen fumbled with his sling ring. “Tony, take him. Loki, stay awake!”

But the pain in his stomach was too great, and Loki gladly succumbed to the beckoning darkness.

                           ________________________________

Stark Tower

“Hey. Welcome back.”

Waking up to Stephen’s handsome visage staring down at him was always fantastic, except that he was not on his bed, and his entire shoulder was wet.

It took Loki a few seconds for his vision to adjust to the bright lights over his head. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

Loki closed his eyes. He remembered the screeching of tyres. The smell of burning rubber.

“Was I in an accident?” he mumbled. That must be it. It would explain why he felt like he had been trampled by a bilgesnipe.

Tony’s body shook harder and Loki frowned; the jostling was unnecessary and sending jolts of pain deep inside his belly.  

“Why is Tony crying like a - ” Loki’s eyes flew open and he gasped. “Baby!”

“Is the baby alright?” He begged. “Stephen, tell me!”

“Shhh, you’re both fine,” Stephen soothed, stroking Loki’s still-flat stomach. “You just had a minor placental bleed from the fall. I’ve arrested the bleeding and done the scan and everything. You’re fine. The baby’s fine.”

“Oh, thank the Norns…” Loki flung an arm across his eyes. His other hand reached for Tony’s head. “Anthony…”

Loki’s fingers sifted through Tony’s hair gently. “Tony, stop. You’re ruining my shirt.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Tony mumbled, his voice muffled by emotions and fabric. “I’m a stupid idiot.”

Loki craned forward to kiss the top of Tony’s head. “You’re my stupid idiot.”

“Our stupid idiot,” Stephen corrected, smiling fondly at his two idiots. “Now will you both listen to me from now on?”

“Yes,” Tony immediately said.

“Only until the baby’s born,” Loki said at the same time. “Deal?”

Stephen sighed.

You win some, you lose some.

He bent down to give the more stubborn of his two husbands a kiss steeped in gratitude and relief. “Deal.”

His maddening anxiety finally assuaged by the sweetness of the kiss, Stephen straightened and leaned his body forward across the bed. “Tony, are you going to cry all day or are you going to get up here and kiss me?”

“No, Sir. Yes, Sir!”

[tenthgrove]

How would an argument with sorbet go?

Hitches and Concerns

Sorbet and Gelato x Reader, Romantic, SFW

Your eyes feel heavy as you flick idly through the channels on TV. You’ve been anxious today, worry for Sorbet and his mission strangling your mind.

He’s been doing this a lot lately, these side-missions. You don’t like it. Such work lacks the aid of your other teammates and the clients can never be trusted. He says it’s for the money, but you wish he didn’t do such things. At least not without involving you in the decisions.

Sorbet texted an hour ago, a single line message stating he was done and would be home soon. The assurance let you and Gelato breath a sigh of relief, and Gelato went to bed after that, but you stayed up. You want to greet him when he returns.

As your eyes almost flicker shut, you hear the familiar slam of the front door. You note the noise of ruffling fabric as Sorbet throws his coat on the hanger, followed by his pacing up the stairs. You hurry to your feet and head for the door of the lounge.

“Good evening Caro!” you call out, throwing the door open. Sorbet, already having continued on out of view, gives some brief, disinterested reply muffled by the walls. You clamber up the stairs to try and find him. “Are you alright? Did your hit go as planned?” you entreat. There’s a pause, accompanying the sounds of shuffling in the bathroom.

“What the fuck is this?”

You rack your brain, desperate to recall what he could possibly mean. Shit, the makeup. You forgot to clear it away. Following into the bathroom, your theory is confirmed. All over the counters lie colourful clutter of various tubes and palettes of makeup, mixed in with spills of powders and creams that coat the smooth granite.

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. I was going to clean up and then-”

“Don’t,” Sorbet snaps. He doesn’t even give you the courtesy of facing you. “Too late now. Can’t you see I need to clean myself up too? Just get out.”

“Uh- fine!” you answer, turning away to leave him be. Your cheeks go red and your heart starts to beat faster. Sorbet doesn’t get disappointed with you often, but when he does it always leaves a rueful feeling in your chest.

“Every time, (y/n). Every time I have something to do I always find your mess in the way,” he chides you even as you leave. He’s clearly in a bad mood, which means the best you can do is just ride it out. You go into the spare room and flop down on the bed. That way he can’t accuse you of not listening to him. “Would it really kill you to be a bit more considerate once in a while?”

“It’s not even my mess!” you retort harshly, calling loud enough to make certain you’re heard. You didn’t intend to sound so sharp, but you know what? You’ll go with it. If he’s going to take an issue with you over something so small, he can bloody well know the truth. “It was Gelato’s idea. Go moan at him if you’re so pressed,” you begrudge, rolling over. “Still, I guess it’s par for the course that I’m taking slack for one of you guys’ decisions.”

The sounds of Sorbet’s pacing around the bathroom stop at once. Oh, did you go too far? As regret wells in your chest, you hear Sorbet march towards your room and throw open the door.

“Excuse me?” he growls. You spare him a glance. You didn’t notice the blood in the bathroom, but it’s speckled all over his shirt and hands. He most certainly looks like someone you wouldn’t want to reckon with. “Need I remind you that the work I do is for your ungrateful sake, so we can afford to live comfortably while you too new to be trusted to even watch us kill someone,” he berates you. You wish he wouldn’t be so cutting.

“Who said I was referring to your side-missions, Sorbet?” you retort, although you’re aware the begrudging tone of your voice makes perfectly clear that’s exactly what you’re referring to.

“Whatever you say Tesoro,” Sorbet scorns, leaving the room. You sigh, and follow him out.

“Sorbet!” you protest. You walk in to find him harshly shoving all your makeup in a bag, without even properly closing half of it. “Sorbet what are you doing!?”

You try to grab the bag from his hands and a pallet of eye shadow spills out onto the floor. Plashes of coloured power coat the floor. You can tell immediately the thing’s been ruined. You look up at Sorbet angrily.

“That was Gelato’s favourite,” you snap. “He bought it for me.”

With that, you storm out the room and go back to the lounge. You shut off the lights and tv and flop down on the sofa, facing the wall. You just want to be alone.

Time passes. You’re vaguely aware of movement upstairs, but you consciously don’t pay it attention. You shut your eyes and try to sleep.

A warm, gentle hand touches your back.

It isn’t Gelato. He would say something. It’s Sorbet. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I’m not apologising,” you insist. Sorbet drums his fingers gently against you.

“That’s okay, Amore, that’s okay,” he assures you. His voice is calm, patient and lulling. It would seem he’s already forgiven you.

You roll over, to look at him eye to eye. There’s a slight hint of nervousness amongst the patience that surprises you. Sorbet almost never seems nervous.

“May I... join you?” he requests.

“Sure,” you answer. Sorbet crawls carefully over your body and positions himself between you and the back of the sofa, holding you in place against his torso. Neither of you talk for a while. It’s blissful. Sorbet clears his throat.

“I don’t think you’re inconsiderate or ungrateful,” he confesses. “It was wrong of me to say as such. I love you, Amore, truly. Please always remember that.”

“I love you too, Sorbet,” you tell him. He hums in acknowledgement, and presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was scared today,” you admit, after another brief silence. “You were alone on your mission and I was scared something would happen to you. Gelato got out the makeup to make me feel better.”

Sorbet adjusts you, pulling you closer against him so he can speak to your face.

“Oh, my darling,” he says sadly. “You should have said. I would have been happy to put your mind at ease.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Darling, I have no intentions of ever leaving you or Gelato in any way. I love you both so incredibly much,” he promises, and in your heart, you feel it. “We can talk about these side-missions of mine, certainly, but I think we should do it when we have clearer heads. Shall we go to bed now?” he offers.

“Yes. Yes please,” you accept. Pecking your cheek once more, Sorbet gets up and lifts you into his arms. You rest your head against his shoulder, letting your eyes fall shut as he carries you up to your room. It’s dark, but you can just about make out Gelato’s sleeping form on your vast bed. Sorbet rests you down beside him, departing from you briefly to get changed.

Next to you, Gelato rolls over. Finding your form, he latches onto you tightly. A sound of contentment rumbles from his throat. On nights like this, you feel you might begin to understand the depths to which you are loved.

[theasstour]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟏.𝟗𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤

Friday, 26 June

Y/N made her way along the gravel path and up the hill leading to Clodgy lighthouse. Her pleated blue, pink, purple floral midi skirt blew in the wind, making it almost a little uncomfortable to walk, but she pushed on. There were a few translucent clouds overhead, but they were neither big enough nor solid enough to cause Y/N any sort of distress. She looked across the flat and green landscape that stretched on for miles and miles as she adjusted her white square neck top, making sure her ruched bust looked alright before actually approaching the house. She’d seen Harry’s yellow van the second she made it up the hill, like a sweet reminder that her final destination was just a few minutes away now.

Y/N didn’t particularly like exercise. Well… she quite frankly hated it. She admired people who liked it and who would spend their entire life practising and perfecting their skills in one sport, but she never understood the appeal. Why put yourself through all that? For a few medals and temporary recognition? You’d have to retire when you were in your mid-thirties or early-forties, and what would you do then? What aggravated her to no end was how male athletes were often more sought after and given more appreciation and awareness than the women. What was so good about men? What did men have that women didn’t?

Y/N saw the white summer dress and the red and white headband bobbing up and down from the grass surrounding the small bungalow. Though it was drowned out by the wind at a distance, Y/N could just about make out Grace singing to herself as she picked wildflowers. At some point, Grace turned around to look around her for more flowers, and suddenly her eyes landed on Y/N. She squealed and ran over to her, throwing her arms around Y/N’s waist. Y/N knew this was Grace’s usual reaction upon meeting someone she knew, but she’d never get used to how much the people in this town hugged and touched each other. She put her heart shaped sunglasses at the top of her head and then held her hands awkwardly out for Grace, her heart hammering as she didn’t really know what to do. She patted her back with one hand, holding the other one to her own chest.

“Y/N!” Grace exclaimed, squeezing Y/N some before stepping away.

“Hi, is your brother here?” Y/N held onto the strap of her tote bag where Harry’s knitted jumper was.

“He’s indoors talking on the phone,” Grace said, furrowing her brows as if it was the worst thing he could possibly do.

Y/N returned the look at Grace, making the little girl giggle. “Think he’d mind me handing this back to him?”

“Well, he’s your boyfriend so…” Grace shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t think you have to ask for permission.”

Y/N felt a little panicked at that, hoping Grace didn’t find it weird that she just asked her if it was okay that she entered her supposed boyfriend’s house.

“I’ll just-“ Y/N pointed at the house and walked past Grace, but the little girl followed her back and started picking some more flowers around the house. Grace’s high-pitched singing started up again, but Y/N didn’t really mind as she knew Grace most likely only did it because she was content.

The door into the bungalow was open slightly, so Y/N opened it a little more to peer inside. However, she didn’t get much of a chance to do that before she heard voices. She stopped in her tracks, eyes on what looked to be a garment rail with different coloured jackets and jumpers. She didn’t want to peer inside in case Harry didn’t want to be interrupted, though the only reason she’d come all this way was to give him his jumper back.

“I… I heard,” Harry said, voice low and very soft as if he was choosing his words carefully. “Fatima told me.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to look inside and find Harry. It was already bad enough that she was just standing there and listening in on his conversation. Or… his half of the conversation, she’d have to fill in the blanks herself.

“Thought you said you’d never come back to St Ives,” Harry chuckled, but Y/N thought she could detect the remnants of the effect of a wound in his voice that had yet to heal properly.

The sound of it made Y/N furrow her brows a little. Something about the thought of Harry hurting didn’t sit right with her.

“You said you… You said you were done. That this didn’t feel like home anymore, so I just… guess I just assumed.” Footsteps could be heard, and Y/N took a small step away from the door. “Didn’t think you’d come back after two years.”

Another pause, and in that time, Y/N again felt the urge to creep closer, to look at Harry and his body language. Was he sad? Did he feel uncomfortable? Was he restless talking to someone he clearly hadn’t talked to in a while?

“I dunno. I have plans today, so I can’t. What about this Wednesday? July 1st?” A pause. “I’d like that, too.”

“Y/N!”

Grace’s shout made Y/N jump. Panicked footsteps were heard next and Y/N imagined Harry was stood by the window now, looking out to see if he saw Y/N on the path to the lighthouse. Heart hammering and the tips of her fingers beating with it, Y/N walked quickly away from the door and hoped Harry didn’t hear her feet on the gravel. She rounded the corner and walked a bit away as if it was going to make it less obvious she’d just been eavesdropping and about to enter his house.

“What’s up?” Y/N asked as she strolled over in Grace’s direction.

“I just want you to pick flowers with me. Look-“ She pointed around her at the colourful landscape around them. “I always pick flowers here. And Harry usually picks flowers for nanay as well, she loves them. Harry!” Grace waved and when Y/N turned around, Harry stood by the corner of his house, watching the two of them.

His phone was in his hand still, mouth open, and eyes a little wide as he just looked at Y/N, and then at Grace beside her. A slightly tight-fitted tee shirt with red, orange, white, and black stripes was tucked into the same pair of washed out denim jeans he’d wore the night before, coming up to rest just above his hip. He was wearing his black Converse again, a pair of white socks visible just over the rim of it. Upon meeting Y/N’s eyes again he dropped his phone just as he was about to talk, hastily bending down to pick it up again before walking over to them.

“Here,” Grace said as Harry came close enough, giving him one of the bouquets she was holding. “Why’d you take so long? It’s hard picking flowers with one hand.”

“Sorry, I… I had to take that, Gracie.” Harry looked at Y/N again, letting out a small breath before he clearly wanted to say something.

“Why’re you here, Y/N?” Grace asked, tilting her head a little to the side.

“Gracie,” Harry hissed, looking at his younger sister with a stern furrow to his brows.

“What?” Grace asked. “Is she coming with us?!” There was obvious elation in the little girl’s voice at that, something that warmed every single cell in Y/N’s body.

“She’s allowed to come whenever and wherever she wants.” The second after he said it, Y/N felt something against her wrist. A small pressure that remained tender and careful as it traced its way along the length of her thumb, like the amiable touch of a rose petal after dragging your hand along the harsh thorns of the flower’s stem. Suddenly, she felt his fingers in the crook of her thumb and along her index, then attentively wrapping themselves around her hand. She looked over at Harry who was already watching her, and though he held her glance for a few seconds, his eyes fell to their joined hands. His cheeks grew a familiar shade of red and he swallowed thickly before glancing at Grace again. They’d held hands before, but Y/N didn’t remember him doing it this meticulously before. She started sweating some, not used to being both uncomfortable and safe at the same time.

“Well, of course,” Grace scoffed, cocking her head to the side studied her bouquet that she hadn’t taken her eyes off of for at least a minute now. “I was just wondering if she was coming with us.”

“That’s not the reason I’m here,” Y/N explained, giving Harry a quick smile as she reached for her tote bag, removing her hand from his as her sunglasses fell off her head. She dragged his jumper out and handed it to him. “You forgot this last night.”

Harry’s mouth fell open for a second and he quickly put his bouquet in his jean pocket before he reached for his jumper. Y/N hadn’t thought he’d take her sunglasses that were in the same hand as his jumper, but that’s somehow exactly what he ended up doing. He looked at them for a few seconds, not recognising them, but the confusion on his face was replaced by a slight smile, and at that, she didn’t have the heart to tell him her mistake. Instead, she smiled back at him and rolled with it.

“They reminded me of you,” she said. Harry scrunched up his nose a little before meeting her eyes again.

“They did?”

It didn’t sound like he believed her, but she just shrugged her shoulders. After all, it hadn’t been her intention to give them to him, but here she was, and she wasn’t about to admit she’d done a mistake.

“That’s what I said.” Y/N looked down at them again.

“Alright.” There was amusement in his voice, and it made the smile on Y/N’s face broaden. “Uhm…” Harry said, standing completely still for a few seconds before jolting as if he remembered something. He reached for the bouquet in his jean pocket and gave it to her. “They… They reminded me of you.”

Mocking him, Y/N scrunched up her nose. “They did?”

Harry chuckled a little and she reached forward, her pinky just barely brushing his index before she brought the bouquet to her chest. She studied them, puckering her lips some as she tried to put a name to each of them.

“What are they?”

“Oh! Uhm…” Harry took a small step forward and pointed to each as he said the names. “Bluebells, sea pinks, and hedgerow cranesbills.”

“Are you coming to St Austell?” Grace asked, eyes big with hope.

“Oh, your birthday present, you’re going to St Austell today? For the street market?” Y/N asked, looking into her tote bag before carefully placing the small bouquet at the bottom of it.

“Yeah, are you coming?” Grace asked again, and though Y/N would love that, she wasn’t about to barge in on something that had been Harry’s birthday present to his little sister. Noticing the attention he was getting, Harry inhaled quickly as if taken off guard that his little sister wanted Y/N to come alone. He scratched at his neck, trying to hide his face a little as he looked away from the both of them.

“I mean… only if you- if you have the time. We won’t force you to if you have other plans, but we’d… we’d love to have you.” His eyes grew wide and he met Y/N’s before looking away again. “Not have you, that’s not what I meant, just meant it’d be great if you wanted to come. Unless- unless it’s bad timing, and you didn’t come here for… for that. Dunno.”

Y/N only smiled, finding Harry’s nervousness adorable still. It was probably because he didn’t know her well yet, and so acting like his comfortable normal self didn’t come naturally. She hoped it would at some point, though.

“I’d love to come,” she said, Grace squealing before she ran for the house.

“Harry, we need to put the flowers in a vase!”

Harry met Y/N’s eyes before following Grace toward the house and through the door. Assuming they would be using Harry’s car, Y/N walked in the direction of it, looking out over the sea that stretched as far as the eye could see. The wind was ever-present, and though one would think it to be harsh and violent, combined with the vision of the sea before her, it had a calming effect. Something about St Ives, the sea, and this lighthouse made her feel a version of contentment she didn’t think she ever had before.

Grace ran out of the house and to the van, skipping over to where Y/N was waiting for them. Harry locked the front door before he followed, opening the door to the backseat for Grace. The three of them all got seated in Harry’s van, lowering the windows a tad before Harry started driving down the gravel path and away from the lighthouse. The radio played softly in the background as they made their way through St Ives, Grace humming to the same tune she’d been singing along to earlier. It didn’t talk long till the little girl started speaking.

“Harry, can we listen to some of your music?”

“Go on, then.” He reached for his phone, about to hand it to the person sitting beside him, but then realising that wasn’t Grace, it was Y/N. “Can you plug it in the AUX, please?”

“Oh, sure.” Y/N took the phone, and the second she did, it lit up. A picture of four people popped up on his locked screen, Y/N recognised all of them right away. Amir had an arm around Harry’s shoulders, while Harry was grinning and looking up at Grace who was placed on Dax’s shoulders. It looked to be from some sort of Christmas Market, yellow lights hanging around them and the four of them tucked into warm clothing. Grace was beaming from ear to ear and Dax was holding onto her ankles, seemingly hooting with his eyes closed. It was such a happy photo that it took Y/N by surprise at first. She couldn’t even remember what she’d done last Christmas. She plugged it into the AUX as Harry scanned his thumb so Y/N could access his Spotify.

“Play his favourite tunes one, it’s called ‘favourite tunes’, if it wasn’t already obvious,” Grace called from behind Y/N.

Harry instantly started stuttering. “Now, we don’t have to do that. We have a roadtrip playlist-“

“-Nooo, put on his playlist, Y/N,” Grace begged, and Harry sighed heavily beside Y/N. She chuckled a little before looking down at Harry’s Spotify again, his favourites playlist at the very top. Clicking on it, she pressed the ‘shuffle’ button and the car was instantly filled with a cheery melody. Y/N was sure she’d heard it before, but couldn’t quite put her finger on when or what song it was. Grace clapped in the backseat, clearly happy about the song that had just come on. When Y/N turned around and looked at Grace, the little girl was swaying from side to side with a huge smile on her face.

“Welcome to your life, there’s no turning back!” Grace sang with everything she had. “Turn up the volume, Harry!”

Y/N glanced back at Harry and was shocked to see her red heart shaped sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, a small smile gracing his pink lips. He turned the volume up and Grace continued to sing, though some of the lyrics were completely off from what Y/N could hear.

“Harry, sing!” Grace demanded.

“I think you can manage on your own, Gracie.”

“No!” the seven-year-old shouted. “Sing with me!”

Harry quickly looked at Y/N before he glanced away again, biting his lips together. Y/N was sure he wasn’t going to do it. Just when she thought she’d narrowed him down and started to understand him some, he came around and changed her perception of him. But Harry opening his mouth and singing just as loudly as Grace took Y/N completely off guard, to the point where she found herself laughing.

“Acting on your best behaviour, turn your back on mother nature!” Harry sang, at the sound of Y/N’s laugh, a grin widened his lips.

This made her think of the conversation she’d had with Harry and his mates the previous night, about Astronaut Lions and the fact Harry wrote songs. His voice wasn’t bad. In fact, it wasn’t bad at all. He sounded… quite good. He hit every single note and even sounded better than the actual owners of the song, at least in Y/N’s opinion. She didn’t realise she was watching him with a smile on her face till he looked in her direction, meeting her eyes.

“You know the song, Y/N?”

Something about hearing her name spoken like that made her draw a quick breath. So mundane, so curious. She was sure he hadn’t meant anything by it, just to make it clear who he was talking to, but she still felt important. Something about him knowing her name and using it to address her felt intimate in a way any term of endearment never could. Your name was your own; someone else speaking it felt profound. She felt valued.

She felt ashamed of her answer, but pretending she knew the lyrics would be too embarrassing. Her heart picked up some speed and she folded her hands in her lap. “No,” she answered truthfully, sitting back properly in her seat and looking straight ahead at the road.

“That’s fine you can just dance!” Grace said.

Y/N giggled, looking back at Grace and then at Harry as they continued to sing the song with their entire chests. The rest of the drive up to St Austell was filled with 70s and 80s tunes that Grace and Harry knew every single word to. Y/N didn’t mind, though. She loved being surrounded with such unadulterated happiness; she felt it seeping into her own pores and felt it intermingle with the blood in her veins. These two didn’t care that Y/N didn’t know the lyrics, they just liked the fact she was there with them. They just wanted her there. Didn’t care in what capacity or for what purpose, they simply enjoyed her company enough to bring her along. That fact alone had Y/N beaming from ear to ear the entire way to St Austell.

Harry struggled to find parking once they were there, so they drove a few times around town in hopes of catching a spot. While doing that, Y/N got a good look of the town they had taken a trip to. It was like any other coastal town, she thought. Charming with constant seagull screams and plenty of people walking around, either carrying an ice cream or fish and chips. Though it might be identical to every other town in Cornwall for outsiders, every Cornish person would definitely know the difference between St Austell and St Ives. Especially people native to St Ives, like Harry and Grace. Y/N might not have any proper ties to any of the towns, but she found herself favouring St Ives to St Austell.

Before long, they were on the high street in St Austell. The street market stretched along the entire length of it, booths perched on either side and the space between brimming with people. Harry and Grace walked in front and Y/N walked just behind him, it’d be easier to walk properly that way. But Grace often slowed down so she was walking beside Y/N, pointing out different booths or artists that they strolled by.

Y/N suddenly stopped by a booth that held purely vintage finds. Harry and Grace took a little look as well, finding the small antiques and glass animals incredibly fascinating. Y/N, however, stood by the vinyl collection.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Harry asked as he walked over to Y/N, the heart shaped sunglasses now perched on top of his head. He glanced in Grace’s direction where she still stood with the glass animal figures, just making sure she was still around before directing his undivided attention to Y/N.

“Who’s your favourite artist?”

The question seemed to have come out of nowhere, because it took a few seconds for Harry to answer, “Elton John.”

“Why?” she asked, still looking through the vinyl collection.

“Uh… dunno,” he said. “Guess it’s just something about his music that I connect with in a way. And I also really admire him as a person.”

“That’s very nice. And what’s your favourite album of his?”

Harry smiled a little. “Am I being interviewed for something?”

She laughed. “No, I just want to know. They have tons of vinyls here, but I’m not really huge on music so I wouldn’t know what to look for.”

“The fact you’re not huge on music should already tell us we’re not a match,” Harry mumbled, both of them chuckling as Harry walked over to stand beside her. Y/N didn’t think that was all that true though, because she genuinely liked spending time with Harry. He was a very good friend of hers now.

Their upper arms laid flush against one another, hot skin against hot skin. Y/N hadn’t anticipated Harry to stand this close to her, hadn’t expected to feel him right there beside her like this. It was reassuring and overwhelming at the same time. Her eyes landed on his face, falling from his eyes as they took in the vinyls before them, and then to his nose. She looked away before she caught herself studying further down his face.

He looked through the vinyls for a bit, Y/N watched his hands as his fingers moved between the covers to look at the different albums. He suddenly made a soft “ah-ha” sound and brought an Elton John album out, tapping his thumb against it.

“This is my favourite album of his: Victim of Love.”

He held the Victim of Love vinyl in his hands, smiling a little to himself. He ran his thumb over the edge of it before he started bumping his hip slightly against it. Y/N just glanced at him as he studied the vinyl, smiling uncontrollably as his hips continued to nudge hers.

“Is this a game? Are you just playin’? Will I be losin’ you?” Harry sang lowly so only the two of them could hear him. “Oh, am I a victim of love, victim of love?”

Y/N glanced at the vinyl as Harry placed it back where she’d found it. “How do you know so much about music?”

“Dunno, guess I must be some type of god or summat.”

She giggled and Harry smiled.

“Boring,” Grace said as she made her way over to them. “Look! There’s a booth over there with just American sweets. Harry, can we go?”

“To the booth or to America?”

“Both.”

He bit his lips together as he placed the Elton John vinyl back where he’d found it. “Let’s settle for the booth for now, yeah?”

Grace ran in its direction and the other two followed quickly after as not to lose sight of the little one in the crowd. Multiple people were looking at the strange sweets and other accessories Britain didn’t offer, both fascinated and disgusted looks on their faces that Y/N found amusing. She loved American sweets personally, but then again, she loved right about anything that would make her gain a stone with a simple glance.

“What are these?” Grace asked, pointing to something. Harry bent down and looked with her as Y/N walked over to the scented candles. The American booth was filled with right about anything, not just sweets, and Y/N found this highly fascinating for some reason. These were just things you could get in the US but not in Europe.

“Y/N, I’m getting strawberry liquorice!” Grace grinned as Harry gave the seller a few pounds.

“Can’t you just get that from Poundland for a single pound?”

“Don’t remind her,” Harry mumbled as he walked over, Y/N sucked her lips between her teeth. He chuckled a little. “Shocked you know what Poundland is, though.”

“Oi,” Y/N said, nudging Harry with her shoulder as she picked up a candle to smell it. “I’ll have you know I used to pop by Poundland to buy a pack of Polos if I was just out and about at home. And sometimes even the Haribo Balla Stixx if I was feeling crazy.”

Harry smiled. “Would’ve never thought.”

Y/N shrugged. “You take a look at me, and you think M&S and Waitrose, but-“ She shrugged. “-I’m just like everybody else.”

They both laughed at that and Grace looked between them with slight worry in her eyes, not having found the conversation as amusing as the other two.

The three of them continued down St Austell high street, Grace humming a tune as she held onto Harry’s hand so she wouldn’t get lost in the crowd. Though the high street was filled with people, there was a peacefulness to it that eased every tense muscle in Y/N’s body. She was sure she could walk along this street with Harry and Grace for eternity, she was content right here. They walked on and stopped by a gelato parlour so Grace could go get herself an ice cream. She took some time to decide the two flavoured scoops Harry would buy her, but once she settled on strawberry and cookie dough, she ate it up so quickly she got a stomach-ache. Harry said he felt no sympathy for her, but he still carried her all the way back to the car and into the backseat. Y/N had given Grace the small bag of crisps she kept in her tote bag for emergencies like this one, and Grace was happily chewing away once Harry started driving out of St Austell.

Regardless, the seven-year-old fell asleep pretty quickly, so Harry turned the volume down in the car and proceeded to make small conversation with Y/N. They didn’t speak for long enough or loud enough to wake Grace, neither wanted her to wake up and get pissy that they hadn’t shut up so she could sleep. She did pity herself a great deal.

“Do you and Grace pick flowers a lot, then?” Y/N asked, keeping her eyes on the road ahead.

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “She loves it, especially because there’s so many different ones around the lighthouse.”

“The same ones don’t grow around the farm?”

“No, it’s not that.” Harry reached over and turned the volume down some more so he could talk more hushed. “I mean, yeah, some don’t, but it’s more the fact that you can see them all so clearly on Clodgy. There’s always the same ones each year, and it’s always a lot of fun to just walk around and pick flowers.”

“Ahh.” Y/N nodded.

“Though…” Harry trailed off as he switched lanes. “This year we noticed something strange.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s a new type of wildflower there. Not many of them, but there’s this new one that I haven’t seen before.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows some. “You don’t experience that? New ones appearing each year?”

“Sometimes, but there are mostly the same ones. Ever since Jessa started teaching me about the different types, giving names to them and such, I’ve always been able to differentiate between the different flowers.”

“But not this new one?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” Y/N hummed, looking at Harry as he concentrated on the driving. “Guess you’ll just have to get Jessa to come over and take a look.”

Harry smiled a little. “Guess so.”

Reaching St Ives again was like gulping down the first real breath of fresh air after taking a deep dive. Though they had only been gone for a couple of hours, it still felt so incredibly good to be back. Harry stopped outside the Inn and Y/N thanked him for a fantastic day, wanting to turn around and say the same to Grace, but the little girl was still sleeping. So, Y/N told Harry to tell Grace goodbye for her once she woke up. He nodded and gave her a wave, driving down the road as Y/N stood watching them until they were out of sight. Upon entering the Inn, Y/N heard voices coming from the back. She peeked her head into the back garden say a quick hello to Bessie and her ladies before she made her way upstairs to her room. As she rummaged through her tote for her keys, she noticed something at the very bottom of it.

She quickly made her way downstairs again, stealing a mug from the kitchen and filling it with water before she walked upstairs to her room. Unlocking the door, she shoved it shut with her bum once she was inside, biting her lip as she hurriedly made her way over to the desk. She put the mug in the sunlight streaming through the window, and reached into the tote bag, carefully pulling the wildflower bouquet out of it, and placing it in the mug. She stared at it for a little while before walking back downstairs for dinner.

Sunday, 28 June

A family walked by Y/N’s open window, the baby in the pram crying and the father talking angrily with the rest of the family members around him, as if that would help the situation in any way. The sun was shining straight through her windows, making her Inn room so hot it was hard to breathe properly. Both her windows were open and the door too, allowing air to circulate and calm her down as the hot weather outside seeped through the house and made a layer of sweat appear on her skin. Though she felt icky, she was thankful for the cooling sensation the wetness brought as wind blew past her. Y/N was sat by her desk in a strappy dress and her hair in a bun at the top of her head, allowing for as much of her to be cooled down as possible.

One of her two UCAT books laid on the desk in front of her, an open notebook beside it where she took notes of topics she knew she’d have to revise some more. A pink, yellow, and green highlighter laid on her desk as well, being used to highlight the parts that were important to remember. Though that was essentially the entire book, Y/N still thought it’d be useful later if she wanted to go through the book again. And that thought was what had her staring off at a point on Porthminster Beach with no particular special value. It was just the shore, where the ocean washed over the soft sand. But she was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t know where she was looking or what she was doing.

The idea of looking through this book later had made her halt. Later. At some point in the future. Sometime again. When would that be? Would it even happen? For what purpose? She knew the reason she was reading this and why she was so invested, but she hadn’t realised she was working toward something till now. At some point she’d have to find her laptop and sign up to take the UCAT. She would have to find a date fitting for her, and she would need to work towards it. And then it was suddenly a reality. Then it was something that was actually happening. It wasn’t just a dream anymore, but something she was actually doing.

The thought made her more terrified than it ever had before. She knew what she wanted, she was also confident that she was smart enough to do well because this was a part of her own intelligence and person she had never doubted. Her talent for science had never been questioned because her parents hadn’t cared enough to even start. So, Y/N therefore concluded that it could not be that part that was making her anxious. Sure, her parents hadn’t exactly encouraged her to get those good grades for anything but show, but she had proved to herself in sixth form how intelligent she actually was. She had been told by her teachers how great she was at her A-Levels, and her results showed that as well, so her academic knowledge was no issue.

It was the reality of her situation that terrified her. The thought that once she did the UCAT and once her parents got a whiff of what was going on, they’d either try and do something to stop her or they’d never talk to her again. Y/N didn’t know which outcome she hated more.

She didn’t know how long she’d just been sat there staring off into space, it must’ve been a little while at least, because her phone vibrating against the desk made her jump. Quickly, she reached for it, for some reason expecting it to be Harry that texted her. The thought made her eager and she wanted to get back to him as quickly as possible. But it wasn’t Harry that had texted her. Reading that name was like getting a bucket of ice-cold water tipped over her head. It was freezing at first, then her heart started hammering dangerously fast, and suddenly she was hot all over.

Dom Your father knows where you are

Y/N had heard about near death experiences before. How it felt like you were transported out of your body and looking down on yourself, unable to move or live. The feeling of not feeling like your own anymore, but an entity floating above your own head; nothing and no one. She never thought she’d experience a near death experience. She never thought a few words would send her into complete shock like this.

She was thrust into her own body and back into coherent thought with such force that she jolted. She blinked a few times before her phone fell onto the book right under her hand, her hand just hanging limply in the air in front of her. Looking at it, that’s how she realised she’d started shaking. She tightened her hands into a fist and laid it on the desk. She was breathing hard and fast, her chest vibrating with the tremendous force and speed her heart was beating.

It’s not over yet, it’s not over yet, it’s not over yet, Y/N kept repeating to herself. Because it wasn’t. She refused to let this be her only taste of the life she wanted for herself. Or… was this the life she wanted? She had no idea. Ever since she was little, she had always wanted to help people. There was something about being of use to someone that brought her immense happiness, but there were multiple ways she could help people. The life her parents had planned for her was all about helping. She’d never really thought about the life she wanted, just accepted the one given to her.

Coming to St Ives and reading for the UCAT had given her new perspectives on things, however. She wasn’t sure if being in St Ives was what she wanted, but she realised that not being in Winchester and not being with her family was. She didn’t know where she’d end up or what she’d end up doing, but one thing was for certain: if her father knew where she was, she’d have to constantly look over her shoulder. She knew she’d have to face them eventually, but that would be on her terms, not theirs. In the meantime, she’d keep a low profile and hope her father didn’t have any eyes in St Ives just yet.

Wednesday, 1 July

Y/N quite liked the trek up to the lighthouse now. Not that she’d walked it too many times, but she liked walking up the slight hill and seeing the white pointy house in the distance. Contrary to the times before, she noticed a familiar figure moving about outside the lighthouse. Wearing a white tee shirt under a pair of denim dungarees that reached just above his knees, diagonal stripes of red, orange, purple, and white, along with his black Converse. As she got closer, the dungarees he was wearing looked worn, almost as if the coloured stripes had been added after purchase and the garment had been put to good use since. Y/N almost felt overdressed in her white front button maxi dress.

Harry must’ve noticed her approaching, because he stood beside the door leading into his cottage waiting, a hand on the handle and the other in the pocket of his dungarees. She gave him a big wave and a grin, something he returned with a smaller wave back, but the smile on his face matched her own. He closed the door into his house as she got closer, spinning a pair of keys around his index finger as he took a step further out into the gravel courtyard.

“Hiya,” Y/N greeted when they were close enough to hear each other.

“Hi,” Harry said. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just… just needed to get out of the Inn, to be fair. Been reading for the UCAT these last few days, and it’s starting to make a nutter out of me.”

A breathy chuckle left Harry’s lips, making Y/N smile.

“And I don’t really know anyone else in St Ives. Well, not well enough to just barge over and demand they spend time with me.”

“So I was your best bet?” The smile on Harry’s face was mixed amusement and slight mockery, something that had Y/N chuckling this time around.

“Maybe. Aren’t you flattered?”

“Understatement.”

She grinned, biting at her bottom lip so she wouldn’t let go of the ridiculous giggle she felt bubbling up. She nodded at the keys in his hand. “Where are you headed off to?”

“Not far.” He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. “The lighthouse.”

“Oh.” Y/N nodded, looking at the tall building behind Harry.

“You wanna… you wanna come with?”

It genuinely surprised her that he asked. From what she’d heard, Harry didn’t let just anybody into the lighthouse. Maybe it was a rule that had been in his family for generations, to not let outsiders or strangers into the lighthouse. That was at least what Y/N had gathered from previous conversations with Florence and Camilla in Vintage Divine.

But, there was not really any question as to what Y/N wanted. Ever since he’d told her he was the lightkeeper, she’d wanted to look inside the lighthouse and see how it worked. She nodded at Harry’s proposal. “I’d love to.”

He smiled a little, eyes flickering to the gravel under their feet before he met her eyes again. “Don’t have anything better to do, ey?”

“Oi now.” She put her hands on her hips, something that made Harry laugh before he started walking backwards towards the white lighthouse. Y/N followed him, looking up at the tall tower that rose majestically before them. Harry unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing Y/N to enter first.

“Thank you,” she said, keeping an eye on the six concrete steps she walked up before entering a lighthouse for the first time.

The first thing Y/N noticed was the red interior. The steel floors, walls, and stairs were all red. One could tell it had been standing for a few years, maybe having had some work done to it in the mid-80s, but nothing had really been done to the lighthouse since. There were a few posters on the wall, all of them old and framed as the paper had started to yellow. Different types of ships and their names under it, different types of fish and their names as well, some pictures of Clodgy lighthouse throughout the years, as well as a few posters with lighthouse lenses and other things Y/N had no idea of. There was a window straight opposite to the door, maybe ten metres off, as well as two others, that provided a generous amount daylight to make it easy to navigate around the lighthouse without turning the lights on.

Harry closed the door and locked it, putting the keys in the pocket of his dungarees as he turned to look at Y/N. He gave her a tight-lipped smile as he gestured around him with his arms spread wide.

“This is it.”

“It?” Y/N shook her head, walking up to a picture taken of the lighthouse in 1947. “I love it.”

“Well, let me show you the rest. Bottom floor is nothing impressive.”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “Quite like it down here, not gonna lie.”

He smiled, dimples showing as he looked to the floor again, scratching at his neck. “I-It’s not as impressive as the rest of the lighthouse, is all I’m saying.”

“Alright then, lead the way, mister lighthouse keeper.”

Harry strolled over to the stairs positioned to the left of the bottom floor. “This might take the breath out of you, by the way. We’re about to climb 26 metres, 86 feet.”

“Oh sugar.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, looking up the stairs. “You not being afraid of heights will come in handy again.”

He remembered that?

Harry didn’t give her a chance to ponder this for much longer, however, because he started up the staircase right away. The steep set of stairs led straight up to another landing, once they were here, a new set of stairs were located on the other side of the steel landing. Wind howled along the outside of the lighthouse, the eerie sounds weren’t scary when the sun was shining, and Harry was there with her. There seemed to be a station there on the first storey, a desk with an open notebook, papers taped to the wall, along with a telephone and a radio. It looked to be important, but Harry didn’t stop.

The second landing was a little different, a little smaller than the one before. There was a door leading into a room, which opened to reveal a very comfy-looking tall mattress on the floor and an old desk by a window. The rest of the room was shielded from view, but Y/N wondered why Harry didn’t just live in here. That looked like a fantastic space. Or at least the small portion of it she’d managed to get a peek at.

They continued up a number of steel stairs, and Y/N was out of breath by the time the walls were really getting closer around them. Harry climbed up a ladder and pushed open the hatch, revealing a ton of sunlight and a sort of buzzing sound. He looked behind him and down at Y/N.

“Dunno if it’s ideal to climb up here with a dress, but I’ll help you down if you want.”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s fine, I’m sure I’ll get other chances to see… what do you call it? The light?”

Harry smiled. “Lamp. This is the Bell Room.”

“Oh.” Y/N nodded. “Interesting.”

Harry only chuckled some before he walked up, returning a minute or two later. He closed the hatch and jumped down the remaining steps on the ladder, the impact making a loud sound once his Converse hit the steel.

“And down to report,” Harry said, motioning for Y/N to walk first. She didn’t know what he meant by what he’d said, but she didn’t question him. Instead, she walked down the stairs, comforted by the sound of Harry’s footsteps behind her. As they reached the second storey, Y/N heard a slight clicking sound behind her, like someone closed a door. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to put two and two together; Harry closed the door into the room she’d seen earlier.

Upon reaching the first floor again, Harry sat down by the desk Y/N had seen earlier. He picked up a pen and wrote a few things down into the notebook, speaking under his breath as he did so as if he was remembering specific numbers and whatnot. A shelf was perched right above the desk, multiple binders, books, and important-looking documents were scattered in each of the sections. Other papers, reminders, post-it notes, and a calendar were taped to the wall, all of it holding different kinds of information that Y/N couldn’t even begin to comprehend. There was a clock perched on the wall and Harry glanced at it, and when it read 9am exactly, a static picked up, and then a voice sounded.

“Good morning, this is Trevose lighthouse reporting…” Y/N didn’t catch the rest, but Harry seemed to have, because he was completely calm, eyes now on the book before him as if checking what he’d just written down. After a monologue she understood nothing of, she could just about make out a “thank you” followed by “Clodgy,” as if indicating that it was Harry’s turn to report back. Harry now had the telephone pressed to his ear and the pen in his free hand as he went through the page.

“Good morning, Clodgy is partly cloudy, one five, calm, and rippled.” More static. “One zero scattered, scattered above two five. Zero, one, zero, zero…”

Y/N didn’t know what was going on, so she let Harry do whatever he was doing while she just looked around. She walked over to the window and glanced out at the sea beyond. Though the wind could be heard whooshing past the lighthouse, the ocean was calm. Off in the distance, she could just about make out a ship. She wondered if the light from the lighthouse could be made out in daylight and if they had used Clodgy to navigate themselves wherever they were going.

“Thank you,” Harry said, hanging up the phone as someone on the other line said: “Pendeen.”

“Good morning, Pendeen is partly cloudy…”

“What was that?” Y/N asked, hushed in case Harry wanted to hear what Pendeen lighthouse had to say. He was quiet for a second, as if listening in a bit to what was happening further south, then glanced up at Y/N.

“Weather report. Most lighthouses are automatic, but most on the west coast of Cornwall are operated by lighthouse keepers, so we report to headquarters four-five-six times a day, approximately every three hours. Depends on the weather and the season.”

Y/N nodded. “What if you can’t make a certain time?”

“Well… not ideal, I should always be able to since this is my job. But if I can’t make one time, then Pendeen is pretty close, so one can kind of count the weather as very similar.”

“How about the times when you’re out and you got other plans? Like, Grace’s birthday or any other social gathering?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I make it back in time to do a report, and sometimes I go back to wherever I was earlier if I feel like it. I don’t often leave Clodgy, though.”

She smiled. “I’ve just caught you on the few occasions that you have?”

Harry smiled back. “Strategic, is what I call it. You get to experience the fun part of my life.”

“This isn’t fun?”

“Well, of course,” Harry said, placing the pen on the notebook. “I meant the social part of my life. Summer is when I leave the lighthouse most often ‘cause everyone wants to have plans when they’re not working all the time, but come autumn and I’m back to staying here alone for weeks on end.” He paused for a second. “Not entirely true, Jessa can’t stay away for long. She always comes over every Saturday to give me some food. She doesn’t think I can cook anything.”

“I’m actually a very decent cook,” Y/N admitted, tipping her chin upwards a bit with a smile. “One of my finest qualities.”

“Yeah?” Harry smiled back at her. “What’s your signature dish, then?”

She pursed her lips as she thought, clicking her tongue a few times. “I make a killer courgette lasagne.”

It took a second or two before Harry said, “Can’t wait to taste it one day.”

Y/N bit her lips together and Harry quickly realised how many different ways that could be misinterpreted. Hastily, Harry coughed and ran a hand through his hair as if to shield his face from view for a few seconds, his neck flaring red.

“Jesus Christ, I-I-I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like that. I-“ Harry stopped himself as there were some static on the radio from headquarters. His face was pink with a blush, and though Y/N found him adorable, she walked off out of his side of vision. He was there to do a job, and she was making it hard for him by making conversation. She waited till the reports were over, then waited some more as Harry wrote something down in his notebook, and then, when he finally got up, she too got up from where she’d been seated in the stairs. Harry gestured for her to walk down the set of stairs to the ground floor so he could follow her.

“So,” she started as Harry locked the door after them. “Six times a day, every three hours… when do you report?”

“3am, 6am, 9am, then I don’t have to report till 6pm,” Harry explained, putting his keys back in his pocket. “Usually, when we know the weather’s gonna be unruly or stormy, we report more than four-five times, but since it’s summer and since the weather’s very clear, we don’t report as often.”

“Ahh.”

“Around this time, I just make sure the lighthouse is in good condition. Went up to the Bell Room just now to make sure the lightbulbs work.”

Y/N furrowed her brows a little. “Would suck if they don’t.”

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled. “It’s been 25 years since they were changed last, so we need to change them out soon.”

“So,” Y/N dragged it out as Harry opened the door into his house. “How’s a regular day in the life of a lighthouse keeper, then?”

“Get up at 2:30, do a report by 3. Then do the same for 6am, and 9am. After 9am, I usually do chores around the property.”

Y/N zoned out for a few seconds as she took in the view in front of her. There was a tiny hallway, a glass door leading into the studio living space which seemed to be all-in-one. However, there was a door to the left when you entered, so Y/N assumed that must be the bathroom. But everything else seemed to be in the room before her.

At the far wall, a steel bed was placed horizontally, pressed up against the left wall. A big window took up most of the space along that wall, elegant white panes making the big windowsill seem perfect to relax in. To the right of it stood a dresser, decorated with pictures and a small vase with the flowers Grace had picked a few days ago. Along the right wall stood a piano, a big and old painting of a ship raised on the wall above it. Right by the small protruding foyer, a sofa was nestled, a tiny coffee table placed against the wall with a few newspapers and an empty coffee mug, a window placed above it, looking out over his yellow van and some of the lighthouse.

A kitchen was positioned to the left, just big enough for that one person living there, but old enough to know it had been used countless times over the last 30 years. Right beside it was a square white dining table, right under the window that overlooked the path leading up to the lighthouse, three chairs around it. Y/N guessed those were for the times Jessa and Grace made their way over.

All the walls matched the dining table and chairs, though the floor was reclaimed cherry wooden flooring, a small contrast to the walls that must’ve been repainted a year or so ago. It was old, and Y/N was sure that with some more decor, this place would probably be one of the cosiest places she’d ever been in her entire life. The windowsill would’ve been nicer with a soft cushion stretching across it and some pillows, and with some plants and green vines, maybe a straw chair and some pillows, it would be the prettiest place in all of Cornwall. But Y/N wasn’t about to tell Harry how to decorate his house, that was none of her business.

She suddenly noticed how quiet the place had gotten, so she turned around to see Harry looking at her, taking his shoes off.

“What were you saying? I zoned out a bit,” she admitted, gesturing around her as if that explained it.

Harry’s eyes went wide, and he took one big stride to enter the living space. He ran over to the coffee table and hastily put the newspapers under his arm and the coffee mug in the other. Putting the newspapers away, he placed the mug in the dishwasher before he speedily ran over to his bed and made it as fast as he could.

“I-I’m sorry. Didn’t know I’d be getting visitors,” he said, voice a little mumble as if he was truly ashamed of himself for not tidying the place up some more before she visited. He placed a knitted quilt over his white sheets and at the sight, Y/N couldn’t help her slight smile. She couldn’t wait to go knitting with Bessie and the ladies again.

“Please,” Harry said, voice a little louder as he gestured at the dining table, dragging a chair out before quickly rubbing his clammy palms over the shorts of his dungarees. “Sit. How do you take your tea?”

God, he was just so cute it was hard to act normal around him, Y/N thought as she walked over and sat down in the chair he’d just brought out for her. He started the kettle before bringing the tea out.

“Lump of sugar is fine, thank you,” she answered, crossing her legs as he found a mug for each of them. “What kind of chores do you do?”

“Hm?” Harry asked, looking over at her with his lips sucked in between his teeth and eyebrows raised.

“You said you usually do chores around the property after you report the weather,” Y/N explained. “What kind of chores?”

“Check that the lighthouse is in pristine condition. Go over to check for mould or damage, for example. I mow the lawn, clean the Bell Room, make sure no sodding seagulls have had a shite on the windows.”

Y/N giggled some, placing her hands in her lap.

“Lighthouse keepers are expected to be fairly handy,” Harry explained as he put a lump of sugar in Y/N’s glass and then one in his own, adding some milk to what would be his mug. “You’re expected to know how to use a hammer and nails, a saw, for example. You need to know how to do housework, building work, yard work, and all those other things along those lines.”

“Does Jessa make you do housework on the farm, then?”

Harry let go of a chuckle as he filled their cups, walking over and placing them on the table before opening the window they were sat by. It was fairly hot inside the house, would be even more so if they were drinking tea. But they were British, so drinking piping hot tea on a hot summer’s day without getting overly affected by it, was one of their few skills.

“Not too often, she’s amazing so she does most of the work around the farm herself. I just help sometimes when she asks, which isn’t often.”

Y/N nodded, slowly blowing on the tea before bringing it to her lips to take a sip.

“How’s…” He cleared his throat. Y/N wondered if it was a nervous tick of his, he tended to do it quite often. “How’s the UCAT reading going? You mentioned it earlier.”

Y/N couldn’t remember that she had, but she was so flattered that he remembered that she felt her cheeks heat up some. She took another sip of her tea and blamed it on the steam.

“Is it doing your head in?” he asked, sipping his mug as he brought his ankle to rest against his bare knee. His legs were so hairy. Not an odd amount, but just enough to make him a little more attractive.

“Yeah, it’s very hard to concentrate sometimes. Being stuck inside the Inn room is making me a bit mental, not gonna lie.”

“You could come here.”

The suggestion seemed to have taken both of them a bit off guard, but once Harry realised what he’d said, his shoulders sank a little, as if he wasn’t totally embarrassed he’d just blurted that out. Compared to the many times before when he said something and he’d gone all red. Friends suggested stuff like this, they offered their space and wanted their friends to feel at home. Y/N could still detect a slight worry in Harry’s eyes that she might reject his offer, but she smiled at him and gave him a little nod.

“That would be very nice,” she admitted.

“I’m rarely in the house anyway. I’m mostly in the lighthouse or out and about here, so I won’t disturb you.”

“You sure you’d be okay with me using your space like that?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, you don’t seem like the person to make a mess. Not that… I should be telling you not to make a mess, it’s a mess in here as is. I’m a mess.”

Y/N laughed and Harry joined her. The two drank their tea to light conversation. As much as Y/N loved being with Bessie and her ladies, she’d much rather spend time with Harry. The two of them just got on. It was so incredibly easy to be around him, it felt right in a way she hadn’t really experienced before. She had friends back in Hampshire and they were all lovely people, but none of them made her laugh, made her think, taught her something new, or made her feel as important as Harry had in the few weeks they’d know each other. He was quickly becoming a very good friend, so him suggesting she study for her UCAT at his place meant a little more in that sense.

Before long, Y/N was out in the fields beyond the lighthouse. They’d spent two hours inside Harry’s house just talking, so Harry hadn’t gotten any of the chores he needed to do, done. Y/N brought the book she was currently reading and laid down in the grass. She lay there reading; on her back, on her stomach, on her side, or sitting. At one point, she was just walking back and forth by the cliffs with the book in her hands, reading as she strolled. The wind was soft, and the temperature was nice considering it was the first day with partly cloudy weather. Y/N actually quite enjoyed just being outside today. And she particularly enjoyed being on Clodgy Point. It was so relaxing that she completely forgot where she was and how exposed and vulnerable she’d be if she fell asleep. But that’s exactly what happened.

She fell asleep in the grass, the open book resting against her chest, and she must’ve slept for at least an hour and some, because the sun was at a completely different angle than before. She started awake, sitting bolt upright and looking about her. Her heart was hammering as her gaze wandered over the landscape around her, frantically searching for figures in the distance.

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, startled by her sudden movement.

She looked at him, readjusting the heart shaped sunglasses on his nose as they must’ve slid down when she startled him. Her hand came to her chest to check if her book was there, but it had obviously fallen off her when she sat upright. It laid on the grass beside her and she frantically reached for it, trying to find the page she’d stopped reading on.

“You alright?” Harry asked, voice low as if asking it too loudly would disturb her in any way.

“No, I- I mean, yes, I’m alright. I just lost the page.”

Harry watched her for a few seconds. “Bad dream?”

“Huh?”

“You… You just sat upright like that, did you have a bad dream?”

Y/N was way too busy focusing on the book to even think about the dream she’d just had. She turned page after page after page, but her mind was so far away. She wasn’t thinking about anything, yet she was thinking about everything. She was busy looking for the place she’d left off, but didn’t know what on that page would indicate it was the right one. Her head felt heavy, yet empty.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?” She finally looked up at him, eyes wide as if he’d just interrupted her.

“I… Are you okay?” Harry asked, narrowing his eyes some as he watched her, not believing her when she nodded her head and made an “Uh-huh” sound. His eyes fell to the book in her lap, her hands still as she just held a page between her index and thumb. Y/N didn’t know what made Harry ask the question in the end, but she assumed he must’ve done it because he knew that to capture her undivided attention, he’d have to talk about books. “You never told me who your favourite author is?”

Y/N met his eyes and, for the first time since she woke up, actually registered what Harry was saying. “Virginia Woolf.”

Harry smiled a little, his dimples showing. His right one was a little more prominent, Y/N realised. “So, her.” He nodded down at the book in Y/N’s lap. “What’s so good about her? Is that your favourite of hers?”

Y/N smiled a little at the questions, looking down at the book before meeting Harry’s eyes again. “Think Mrs Dalloway-“ Y/N showed Harry the cover to tell him that was the book she was reading right now. “Might be my favourite, yeah.”

“Why?”

“It’s just so-“ Y/N stopped herself, looking at Harry for a few seconds before shaking her head and chuckling some. “I won’t bore you with book talk again.”

Harry smiled. “I don’t mind.”

“You always trick me into talking for hours!”

Harry put his hands up in surrender. “And you don’t get me to open a monologue? Ask my mates, I didn’t talk this much until you came along. You’ve ruined my image.”

Y/N laughed, turning around and laying down on her stomach. “Think it might be my favourite spare time activity.”

“What, ruining my image?”

“Yeah.”

“Mine too.”

Y/N grinned up at him and Harry grinned back, laying down on his back, perching his sunglasses on top of his head as he stared over at her.

“Alright, you wanted to know why it’s my favourite, yeah?”

“Why I asked, yeah.”

“How about I read it for you, and you’ll make up your own mind.” Y/N raised her eyebrows and Harry furrowed his own. She giggled. “You don’t seem thrilled.”

“Well, I can’t say anyone’s read to me before, so I wouldn’t know how I’d like it,” he answered truthfully, but his eyes got big a second later. “Not-not that I don’t think it’s a lovely idea!”

Y/N laughed. “Harry, I know you don’t read ‘cause you don’t find it entertaining, it’s completely fine. Your flaws are your own to deal with.”

Harry barked out his hyena laugh again, hand covering his mouth for a second, but at the sight of Y/N howling at his outburst, he laughed with her and forgot all about it.

“I just asked,” Y/N said, still with a hint of laughter in her voice. “’Cause if you think it’d be a way for you to actually manage to follow a story, then I’d gladly read to you.”

Sucking his lips in between his teeth, Harry watched her for a few seconds before nodding his head, moving a little closer. “Yeah, go on then.”

She opened the first page again, focusing in on the words before her as Harry focused on her.

“’Mrs Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. For Lucy had her work cut out for her. The doors would be taken off their hinges; Rumpelmayer’s men were coming. And then, thought Clarissa Dalloway, what a morning – fresh as if issued to children on a beach’.”

“Hmm,” Harry hummed. “I like that.”

“What?”

“’What a morning – fresh as if issued to children on a beach’.”

Y/N smiled, looking back at the boom. “Virginia’s writing is beautiful. You can tell she took a while to write each sentence.”

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on Y/N as she continued to read.

“’What a lark! What a plunge! For so it had always seemed to her, when, with a little squeak of the hinges, which she could hear now, she had burst open the French windows and plunged at Bourton into the open air. How fresh, how calm, still than this of course’-“

A car engine sounded in the distance, getting closer and closer.

“-‘the air was in the early morning; like the flap of a wave; the kiss of a wave; chill and sharp and yet solemn’-“

Closer and closer.

“-‘feeling as she did, standing there at the open window’-“

The gravel moved harshly as if the car was driving unusually fast. Y/N whipped her head around. The car screeched to a halt in front of Harry’s house. She forgot all about her book. It slipped from between her fingers as she turned around and sat up. Quickly, she started scooting away, keeping her eyes on the car.

“Y/N,” Harry said, looking at the Royal Mail car before glancing back at Y/N.

She didn’t seem to hear him, though.

“Y/N,” he said again, getting to his feet and following her. She didn’t stop. She kept trying to get away from the car as the postman got out, waved at Harry, and put the mail in his mailbox. “Hey,” Harry said as he reached her. “Hey, what’s going on-“

As he put a hand on her shoulder, she startled out of whatever trance she was in. His skin against hers startled her to the point of her moving away from him. Harry moved his hand away, blinking as if hurt. It wasn’t that Y/N didn’t like Harry touching her, she actually really did, she liked it when anyone touched her, but it had just taken her so completely off guard with everything storming through her brain that she couldn’t help her reaction.

Her heart was hammering, palms were clammy, and her brain had been somewhere else completely. ‘Your father knows where you are’ had been all she’d manage to think in those seconds. Nothing and no one else had mattered. She looked at Harry again, trying to regain a normal breathing pattern.

“I-I’m sorry,” Harry said, taking a step away from her.

“No.” Y/N shook her head. “You don’t have to be. I… I like… I don’t mind you touching me.”

Harry bit his bottom lip, sitting down on his knees beside her.

“I’m not used to it.”

Harry paused for a second. “People touching you?”

“Yeah, uhm…” She ran her hands over her face before she looked over at the mailman. He was back in his car, not a danger to the two of them in any way. She’d just overreacted. Just thought her Dad had made it to St Ives and was driving down the gravel road towards the lighthouse, as if he knew that was exactly where she’d be. She didn’t know why she reacted the way she did, maybe it was just too much, too soon. Everything that happened Sunday with Dominic texting her and knowing that her father had been looking for her and knew where she was, it had all come to this. Just an hour and some earlier, she’d felt so safe. She hadn’t expected to feel so content and at ease anywhere ever again. But she did there. And it had all been taken away from her.

She felt a warm pressure against her shoulder. Reassuring, supportive pressure that felt a lot like Harry’s rough hand. His thumb smoothed over her skin and she closed her eyes for a single second before she glanced in his direction. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her believe everything he said and did. There was a truth and constant to him that was unwavering; like a bright star you knew would show up in the sky every night. It might not always show, but it was there. Waiting for the right time to show itself. Every single thing this man did came from the heart. He might not do too much, might have trouble finding his words, but there was assurance and comfort in everything he chose to say and do. It somehow held more meaning than anything else ever had.

“You’re okay,” he said.

And though her heart was beating faster than it ever had, and though she hadn’t felt okay a moment ago, she believed him. She let go of a shaky breath, and at the sound of it, a worried look graced Harry’s face.

“Want to go inside?”

Y/N shook her head, gesturing at her book. “I said I’d read to you.”

“If you don’t want to be outside… that’s completely fine.”

She crawled over to her book again, her shoulder felt cold when she was out of Harry’s reach. “Let’s read.”

“Y/N.”

She stopped, looked over at him as he looked at her. Seriousness lay in every single feature of his face as well as how calculatingly slowly he moved toward her to not overwhelm her in any way. She watched him till he sat before her, staring into her eyes for a few seconds before saying a soft, “You’re okay.”

She wasn’t so sure that she was, but she forced herself to believe him enough to open the book to the first page again. Just as she was about to start reading, Harry’s phone went off with a text. He brought it out, read the text, and looked about to say something, but stopped himself as he started answering whoever texted him. Y/N watched him, biting at her bottom lip as she waited for him to be done.

“Alright?” she asked once he put his phone away.

He pointed over his shoulder, mouth opening again as if he was going to explain, but he just shook his head as he thought better of it. “Yeah, go on.”

Y/N gave him a smile before she continued to read.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 13 September, 9PM GMT!

A HUGEE thank you to my amazing and beautiful beta readers! 🌊 @aileenacoustic 🌊 @bopbopstyles 🌊 @fromyourstrulyh 🌊 @harrys-creature 🌊 @summerfeelng 🌊 @watermelonsuger​ 🌊  @withallthelove-a​ 🌊

[mymadmedleyw]

Death

(ao3), belongs under Certain Moment of Time, could be read independently, just as each for the days will be shorts, but all together forming a whole picture

(As this is the last chapter within the 'Going Angst Week 2021', a little reminder about the right order in reading the chapters chronologically (I suggest CMOT link): 4, 6, 2, 5, 3, and 7, 1)

tw: miscarriage

---

Blood. One could say after seeing it many times, sensing its rusty, salty odour within the air might have lost the sensibility to it after a while. But it never ceased on the weight if it was about loss, about death.

Then it always changed to the horrible, suffocating disinfectant scent with the white surrounding and the sound of silent sobs. Just as this time. They didn't even dare to count for how many occasions they ended up here, broken and devastated.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" mumbled for like the thousand times the hollow voice. "It's all my fault, I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have-" the sentence trailed off by another chuckling, squeezing hard on his hand that was holding hers, never letting it go.

Every attempt, every hopeful try led back here and- and it just twisted his heart, seeing, again and again, the slightly greyishly paled skin that years ago was beaming. Years ago…

Suddenly the picture of the small child in her arms came back, like that could have been a mirage. Sadly, he was well aware it wasn't, that happened, but- what he had done wrong?

Vlad pressed his forehead on her, taking the same question that he was asking from himself during the past few years. Why he hadn't told her? It was the same damn question, but with a different meaning this time. Time… yes, that it was.

He clearly could remember the day in the hospital bed, staring at the black and white photograph, bringing for them good news again… and then he couldn't tell what had happened, but he had woken up with years of memories in his mind and- and then as he had sat up, holding his throbbing head someone put a hand on his shoulder, asking with the greatest concern if he was okay.

It had needed hours to understand it wasn't a dream, and by lunch – made by the most amazing woman on the Earth – his mind settled too.

As much weird it was, but this was the truth. Madeline Masters. His wife. Also aware of his state – that they, according to his new-old memories, together tried to keep at bay. He knew he lied to her about its seriousness. That she only was informed about the simply side-effects: floating, invisibility and intangibility, sometimes glowing hands – but she had no conscious about the rest, about the other form… (which learning from a memory surprised Vlad too).

He kept then on with that lie, just as with the other one too, that somehow, he remembered a time when everything was different.

It worked for years. To tell the truth, Vlad forgot everything after their first positive test, even after the second, or the third, but-

Then he didn't dare to count. He couldn't recall anymore the days when she was happy – except in that other life. He slowly was destroying her, breaking the sweet image of his love… He tried to tell her several times to give up, but as much as stubborn she was, like feeling she should have been a mother, she never listened.

Then he eventually had run some tests (surprisingly facing with the result wasn't even his worst day, because his worst day was now…). The accident in the lab, five years ago ruined his biology. It was his fault. Vlad had been on to tell her, several times really, that they- that they wouldn't ever have a child, but- but he had been afraid. He still was afraid. He was a coward, fearing to lose her, so then he never told her, but now…

"Daniel…" a hollow, weak breath was formed into a name. "I thought- I chose- I really thought this time…"

"It's okay…" Vlad whispered, fighting against the suffocating guilt.

Daniel… he almost could imagine a view of a boy with her kindness, smartness and maybe with his steel bright eyes, and-

A soft sniffling broke the silence in the room, he knew it would take days and weeks to calm her down (or months, especially that this time she really had hoped…). But then she would return to her obsessed determines, again, not giving up until she would be able to fight for it…

But Vlad couldn't watch it, not again. This time, it had endangered her life too. He just couldn't let it happen, not anymore… especially as the date slipped into his mind. It was the same as on the letter, containing the black and white picture of their second child… she would have been expecting her second and-

He bit his lips as hard as it drew blood, rusty, salty and sinner. The sound of the woman, the so loved Maddie died away in a faint snuffling, undoubtedly dreaming about a great life he couldn't give her… Even though Vlad was conscious of their reality, he still wished to fulfil her dreams…

Wish… suddenly his eyes snapped open, remembering word-to-word to his half-mumbled sentence before everything had changed and he had woken up in this dream (nightmare…).

Would it be that easy? –Vlad wondered, sceptical about such childish way, but then he grabbed on it, tight, as ridiculous it sounded, and he'd have literally killed to make her happy. So then, he opened his mouth, already putting together what he wanted to say, and then-

"Won't work." stopped him an abrupt voice, then the owner cleared it. "I set the rules with Desiree. She is not allowed to grant any timeline-altering wishes, unless I allow it." Vlad blinked at the sudden presence of someone else, searching with his eyes immediately to catch the person, but there was no sign of anyone, just a quiet ticking sound was telling someone was definitely there.

A moment passed in silence, making Vlad wondering about if he hallucinated the voice, but then it spoke again. "Clockwork, by the way, Master of Time – though it's rather a given title than a name. Theatrical, isn't it?" Vlad scoffed at the unmistakable enjoying waving of the words, whoever this ghost was – because, based on the invisibility it was undoubtedly an unearthly creature from the other realm –, he clearly was amused by this scenario.

"What do you-?" Vlad started, frustrated by the spectre's presence and mocking.

"Want?" was Vlad interrupted. "From you? Nothing… albeit your stubborn wish created a glitch that didn't suppose to exist. A knot, that tangled the flow of events, blinding me. In short," the ghost took a break. "you scarred the time." well, that definitely sounded like a lecture… but then, the title slipped into his mind, along with the accounting for: Master of Time.

"You can make it back…" Vlad pieced together. "You can change on the time, change on this all." he couldn't tell if it scared him or filled with him hope, but definitely that drew out a way – more like an alternative – after the wish-one. For a short time, the ticking skipped a beat, like the ghost would have been stuck on a thought, but then talked again.

"Yes, I can change on this all." was Vlad's sentence, almost exactly repeated. He didn't have to be a genius, to feel it wasn't an admitting. "But I won't." was it added, not even a second later. "I might be responsible to watch over the timelines, and every single outcome, but on this, I am afraid, I can't do anything. You created it, it's your duty to fix it, and decide." Vlad stunned. Decide what exactly? This or- that? It wasn't an actual question, he could give the answer easily, but-

Suddenly he averted his gaze from the space where he suspected the ghost was floating invisibly – getting on his nerves by that – then he looked back to the woman, gazing at his wife, and gently got out a long curly lock of hair that fell into her face. She seemed so calm, pale, yes, shattered by the tired wrinkles under her closed eyes, and…

"I see you already made your decision." Vlad heard the cursed voice again. He didn't have to guess to know his eyes were burning red, clenching his jaw and fighting inside to not lash out at the ghost, transforming to his other outlook and end the ghost, it that was even possible in case of a timeless existence. Was it really counted as entertainment for him? This?!

"It's not a decision." Vlad spitted.

"No, it really isn't." said the ghost sternly, accompanied by a sound that gave an impression like an old clock would have been adjusted, bored by the current discussion as if it had been something obvious, or expected. "But I am seeing no future over this certain moment, neither in this time or your original one. Just imagine, how it could be to be blind after millennia. Curious, I was for centuries to learn what it caused. Well, it turned out it was just a desperate hybrid's wish, fighting against his true nature, cornering himself to endless suffering than accepting the new him… comical, isn't it?"

It felt harder and harder to hold back and stay unmoved listen to the words, but as much as he loathed hearing it, if this Clockwork could mean the solution from this, then-

"Besides, what happens now, how you decide, is beyond me, I can't see through it, until it happens." defined the being, at the same time out of nowhere a swirling green-ness formed in the air. It was similar to the Proto-Portal, which Vlad had seen many years ago, but this was enough big for anyone to walk through it. "It's either this time or the other one, the knot you created still makes the connection available. But it has to end. Only one could remain."

Vlad swallowed, lost in the neon colour, like an unescapable doom that followed him everywhere. He remembered his time, his muscles still could recall the seizures, the endless days in that hospital room, and reading about his friends' perfect life against his… the ghost was right, he had been desperate, now he could control his other side, but it could be only thanked to Maddie, this Maddie… in that other world, he was nothing but- he was literally nothing… here, now, on the other hand, he had the love of his life, but still-

Suddenly, he put together no matter how he'd choose, what path he'd take, it would turn his heart a stone, destroying by the ghost's words the other time. But then, he took a glimpse at the resting woman, at his Maddie, silently sleeping unaware of another being's presence in the room, only lost in a dream-world her mind created. For a moment, he wondered about the possibilities, about the alternatives, but then, hard, Vlad realised it was out of the question.

He never felt his limbs as heavy as he stood up from the chair, earlier placed beside the hospital bed, to mean support Maddie after the loss... And he never felt more hatred towards anyone – even towards Jack – that now took over his entire body about the ghost.

"I really hope, you are able to see your so cherished future now." Vlad cursed, the sourness and hurt suffocated him from inside as he took a step towards the greenness.

"I do." acknowledged the Master of Time, but not spilling anything else, what it would mean or how things would turn out. But Vlad knew even if the ghost was aware of some outcome, he wouldn't be informed about those. As Vlad disappeared behind the gate between the two realities, he took himself a promise, to somehow, when everything had settled, whatever it would take, he would find Clockwork and claim justice.