#i really do love the way a knotted string of beads moves its so different than just loosely strung beads

[grubloved]

moss agate, rainbow moonstone for my beloved ^_^

[secondhand-trash]

Love at First Bite

A/N: we love a man who can cook where can I find myself an osamu (and yes this is an excuse for me to write about food)

Pairing: Miya Osamu x reader

Description: Your story with Miya Osamu began with tears, rain, and really good food.

Word count: 5270

Playlist:

Making Breakfast//Twin Peaks

Sunday Kind of Love//Etta James

Baby I’m Yours//Arctic Monkeys

-

You met Miya Osamu on what felt like the worst day of your life.

“I don’t feel the same about you anymore.”

The words that your boy- no, ex-boyfriend said to you rang in your ear. You could not get it out of your head ever since he uttered those few words in front of you, leaving you dazed and alone on the street as he turned away without even looking back. 

He did not even look back, not even bothering to see the look on your face and hurt in your eyes as the reality sat in.

I don’t feel the same about you anymore.

What the fuck was that even supposed to mean? Your face heated up at the anger that was starting to boil up. It was humiliating how you just stood there and say nothing as he walked away, you could have at least say something smart, or demand an explanation. But instead, you stayed still like a block of wood.

Pathetic, maybe that was why he got tired of you.

It did not work. You tried so hard to shake off the echo in your head of last voice you ever wanted to hear at that moment but the more you tried, the louder it was in the void of your mind. You hated how easy it was for him to walk away and how hard it was on you, you hated how you could barely even think straight as you mindlessly walk along the straight road ahead, taking turns whenever there was one without even having a single thought.

There was a moment when you stared at his figure as he walked away and felt the urge to say something that would make him stay, and that was the worst part of it all.

How sad, how pathetic.

The streets were getting dark and one by one, the shops along the sides dimmed their lights. It was late and you should go home but just the thought of being along made your stomach twisted into knots. 

There would be no one waiting for you when you get back, which you should have gotten used to by now. But being by yourself was one thing, the thought of there being no one you could go to anymore was another.

You had not felt so lonely in a long while, and you weren’t sure how to deal with this foreign hollowness.

You did not want to be surrounded by nothing but four walls. You knew that the voices in your head would be clearer and louder when you were accompanied by nothing but silence. At least when you were out, wandering on the empty streets, you had the eyes of the people walking by to keep you from breaking down completely in fear of the looks you might get, a sad attempt at convincing yourself to stay strong.

But the reality was that the emotions that were boiling up at the depths of your chest were starting to bubble up, and you had never wanted to cry so badly.

You grimaced when you felt the bead of water rolling down your chin, then you realised that it wasn’t you.

It was like the sky could sense your conflict and it decided to cry on your behalf when you were o hellbent that you wouldn’t be vulnerable. It started off as sparse drops of water on your face until the silver strings of water became a downpour. 

You were a mess as you scrambled to find cover, clutching your bag close to your chest as you ran under the rain, barely able to see what was in front of you. Amidst the heavy veil of rain that covered the street, you spotted a distant glow. A warm light from afar, and with your clothes soaked through and your brain tangled by every train of thought that had been bothering you, your feet moved on its own.

You just wanted somewhere you could be, somewhere you could hide for even just a second.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed-”

The man standing by the counter turned around at the sound of the wooden door being slid open. He was holding a cup in hand and a towel in another, clearly in the middle of closing things up. He froze in place when he saw you standing by the door, drenched from top to bottom and your eyes looking down. Your shoulders were drooping down, your lips quivering as your chest rose and fell to the heavy breaths that you were struggling to maintain. You looked like a mess and shame burnt through your face when you realised you were barging into someone getting ready to be finished with their day, unlike you who were just finding a place to escape to.

He paused and stared at you for a while before slowly opening his mouth again, “Welcome, take a seat wherever you like.”

You felt the lump at the back of your throat at this stranger letting you stay even though it was likely that you being there wouldn’t be anything but helpful to his work. Your dignity wanted to say that you wouldn’t want to be a bother and that you would be leaving soon but as the loud crack of thunder made your body shock, you swallowed it down and muttered a soft thank you as you pulled out the tall stool right in front of the bar table.

The crisp sound of rain drops falling onto the ceiling and the occasional thunder filled the empty shop as you sat there. You stared at your crossed hands that were in front of you, your brain completely blank as the wetness of your clothes slowly seeped through. You shuddered at how cold the layers felt, trying to curl up on your seat as a last resort for some warmth. The man, who you assumed to be the owner of this shop, was at the back and you wondered if it was because he took pity at how disheveled you were and decided to give you some space.

You could hear the occasional clank of ceramics and pots from the kitchen. Warm lights, steam that was slipping past the door curtain, the clicks of gas stoves being turned on. It all felt so terribly like home. Not the small apartment that you had to be careful doing anything to in fear of losing your deposit, the one where you could hear the sound of the tv even at the door right as you step in, the one with someone waiting for you to be home, the one where you could smell the sweet scent of rice from the kitchen.

The one where you were not along.

You felt the tear prickling at the corner of your eye and you quickly brought your hand up to press against your forehead, forcing the soreness in your nose to go away. You had been on your own for so long and probably would be for even longer, you could not let your mind wander to places that would crush you down like that. Not now, not when you knew how hard it would hit you.

The click on the table in front of you broke you out of your spiraling thoughts, and your eyes widened as you looked up to see what was placed in front of you.

White streams rose from the black lacquerware, the shine and the patterns on top a sharp contrast to the onigiri placed on the plate by its side. They were rounded, put on a long rectangular plate side by side with a small stripe of nori wrapped around them. You could see each grain of rice clearly, the light made it looked like they were clear enough for you to see through it. You looked into the bowl to see pieces of vegetables and tofu floating in the cloudy liquid, the soft scent of miso filling your senses as you leaned forward.

Tonjiru and onigiri, how long had it been since you had this?

“You need something to warm you up.” the man said with a small smile, brushing the fallen strands of his silver bangs away from his eyes as he turned away from you.

You nodded as you took the bowl from the counter, your lips pursed together into a thin line at the million flavours that were in your heart. You let out a soft sigh at the heat on your finger tips. It had been awfully long since you had anything as homely as this, and your own breath melted in with the steam that was blurring over your vision.

You tasted the warm soup at the tip of your tongue with your first sip, slowly gliding down your throat into your stomach and then the warmth slowly spread across your entire body from your core. The onions were cooked through, melting into the soup and soft against like jelly. slices of potato were nearly mashed up, the sandy texture still permanent in your mouth even after you gulped it down. The pork was cut up into thin pieces, tender and with the flavour of the stock all blended in. You could still taste the vague hints of the stock between your teeth, your breath shaky as you hold the bowl in your hand.

They said life was made up of different flavours, and right now the flavour on the strings of your heart was salty, from the jar of sealed emotions that shattered on the ground at something as simple as a bowl of warm soup made handed to you by a total stranger.

You did not know you were crying until you tasted the saltiness at the corner of your lips, and you lifted the bowl to your mouth before the sobs could even leak out.

You gulped down the soup, despite how you felt like you were having trouble trying to breathe with the ache at the back of your throat. The man had his back towards you, continuing with cleaning up the many dishes piled up as you cried at the far corner away from him. He had never met you and in his head, you were probably just another annoying customer who took up the time he could have had to himself by being a sobbing mess in his shop, but there was a silent gentleness in the way he didn’t flinch or budge even once as your sobs slowly erupted in a bawl, like you were not there at all, like the fact you were there was just another part of his routine.

You had calmed down a little when you saw the bottom of the bowl, your cries now turned into broken whimpers. You took a small bite into the onigiri and smiled amidst your tears at the sweetness from the grain and the hints of vinegar that expanded in your mouth. There was no filling within, but just the taste of rice was enough to make you feel the purest form of joy. The sound it made when you bit down on the seaweed was nothing less than satisfying and as you felt the crunch between your teeth, the tears rolling down you face and making your chest ache stopped. 

The man’s hands slowed down as you stopped crying but he waited for a moment before turning around like he wanted to make sure that he would not interrupt you at a moment of vulnerability. 

“How much is it?” you asked. Your voice coming out much weaker than you wanted it to be, like you were out of breath and with a strong nasal from your earlier sobs. 

“It’s on the house.” the man said and he couldn’t hide the slight amusement behind his eyes as you visibly panicked.

“I really shouldn’t-”

“I can’t charge you for something that isn’t on par with our usual quality,” he said, pushing your hand that was holding your wallet away softly. You wanted to argue that it was the nicest meal that you’ve had in a while but he stopped you before you could even speak, “so please.”

You stared at him. His eyes were fixed on you, not once wavering during this exchange. You sighed, knowing that there was no way he would back down, and a sly grin found its way to his lips.

You thanked the owner again and again before you walked out the door. With a soft swish, you were alone on the street again but somehow you didn’t feel all too bothered by that.

The rain had stopped.

Taking a deep breath, you could smell the distinct smell of rain lingering in the air. Walking away, you took one look at the shop before you left. The door curtain hanging on the upper half of the door was flowing with the wind, the symbol of the shop printed on in white.

“Onigiri Miya”.

-

Onigiri Miya.

You looked up from your phone to the front of the shop and then back at your phone. 

You had deliberately put off coming again after last time for a couple of days, even though there wasn’t a moment when it wasn’t in your mind. Somehow, you were paranoid about if you actually had the face to show up again after the owner had practically seen you at your lowest point. It was embarrassing to be remembered as the person who barged in late at night and cried on someone’s bar table.

And it most definitely didn’t help that even with tears in your eyes and you practically struggling to breathe properly, you still clearly remembered that the owner was likely your age and very attractive.

Maybe you should just leave. Your legs planted firmly on the ground as you thought of everything that could happen if you go in there. But really, you should go in as a proper customer at least for once after the owner practically treated you to a free meal. You gulped at the reminiscence of the warm soup that washed down your system and the crunchiness of the nori, you could feel your stomach rumbling just at the thought of it. How was it that such simple food had such an impact on you that you couldn’t stop thinking about it? 

You would just go in there, eat your food, actually pay this time around and leave. What was the worst that could happen?  

But on a second thought, did you really want to go back in there? Did you really-

“Sorry to interrupt whatever deep thought you might be having,” you jumped at the voice from behind you and was shocked to see that it was the owner standing behind you. 

Wait, no, this wasn’t him. 

“But are you going inside?” the man pointed at the sliding door of the entrance.

“Yeah,” you blurted out and went to grab the door like it was exactly what you were about to do anyways, groaning inside at how your earlier conflict was all for nothing, “yeah, of course.”

“Irassha-” the man behind the counter, the actual owner, looked up as the door was slide open, “ara?”

“Samu...” the man brushed past you as he sat right at the center of the bar table but the owner didn’t look away from you and nodded in greeting which you immediately reciprocated, your eyes glancing between the two subtly. Seeing them side-by-side, you could now see that while their facial features were near identical, the two men had deliberately styled their hair differently and dyed them a different colour. The blond laid on the wooden table the moment he sat down, rambling on about how “people nowadays didn’t know what a good joke was anymore”. 

You gingerly picked the seat that was the furthest away from him, carefully pulling the stool and had your back straight as you looked around the store. You were too deep in thought that you didn’t even pay much attention to your surroundings the last time you were here. There was nothing fancy about the humble interior, the earthy tones of the wooden structure of the building and the warm lights that were used a very good compliment to the food it served. Down to earth and simple, but sometimes it was the simplicity that draws out the best flavour.

“What can I get you?”

Your back tensed up at the sudden attention that was put on you. The owner of the shop stood in front of you with his arms crossed and you tried your hardest to save yourself the embarrassment that your eyes immediately picked up on the way his biceps flexed under the black t-shirt that fit his form perfectly. You had already broken down in front of this man, the last thing you would want is for him to notice that you were subtly not-so-subtly checking him out.

“Oh,” you snapped out of your trance, your nerves returning as you felt him waiting for you to say something. “um...”

Leaning back, you looked around at the many items that were written on thin wooden boards hung right above the counter. Salmon roe, tuna with scallion, marinated plum, stewed pork... the list went on and on, and that was only for the onigiri. How were you supposed to make a decision when there were so many to choose from? 

Miya Osamu felt a foreign swell in his chest as your eyes racked over the menu. Your tongue slightly poking out as you were lost in your thoughts and it was like he could see you debating with yourself as your glance jumped back and forth. He did not get to talk to you when you first walked in but he immediately remembered you as the one who came in that night with the particularly heavy rain. Even as his twin’s blabbering held a tight grip on his attention, he could not help himself but stealing glances at your direction. He could see the way you sat with your back straight and your shoulders stiffed at the corner of his eye but right now, the previous density was all gone.

He would have to admit that he had been wondering if you would come back after your initial encounter. He was not keen on acknowledging that he had been waiting for you to show up again even though judging by the look on your face as you took that first bite, he was almost certain you would.

You were still not able to decide on what you want which normally would be quite an annoyance (especially if it was Atsumu being indecisive because seriously dude, why are you being conflicted? You would get the exact same thing in the end anyways) but he just found how serious you were to be oddly endearing. He was tempted to tease you a little, to see you flustered and panic a little but bite his tongue at the potential of you tensing up again.

“Do you want to try a new product?” and there it was, the subtle glint of excitement in your eyes that you immediately tried to hide, “It’s not out on the menu yet and I’ve been hoping to find someone to try it out.”

The blonde at the other side perked up, his cheeks puffed out as he chewed on the onigiri he had in hand. His voice was muffled as he spoke, “Wait, samu-”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” the owner snapped around before turning back to you with a smile, ignoring the look of discontent on his brother’s face. “So?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you were quick to nod, smelling the lingering smell of gunpowder in the air, “sure.”

The owner hummed and went to the back of the kitchen. You shuddered when you suddenly met the gaze of the man sitting opposite to you. Were you roped into some sort weird sibling rivalry? You wanted to look away but didn’t have the guts as he stared at you. His eyes pursed into thin lines as he chewed slowly before glancing at the kitchen and then back to you. His eyebrows quirked up as his eyes widened, his lips curling up like he had gotten something figured out. You let out a heavy breath as he finally turned his eyes back to his meal.

Ok, what was that supposed to mean?

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” 

You gleamed at the plate that was placed in front of you. Unlike the small rice balls from last time, this one was nearly the size of your fist and you could feel your mouth watering just at the smell of freshly cooked rice. 

Clasping your hands together and giving a quick nod, you picked it up and took a bite. You could not stop yourself from humming in delight when you bite straight into the filling, the flavour immediately filling your cavity. The distinct taste of toro hit you in full force, but the fishiness was not too overwhelming as the saltiness from the soy sauce balanced it out. The tuna was well marinated with the sauce soaking through each piece, small dots of roasted sesame seeds making it look extra enticing. You could taste the hint of sesame oil that followed as the fish melted on your tongue, the mix of flavours still left between your teeth after you swallowed. The sauce seeped into the rice surrounding the filling and you could taste the careful balance of saltiness and the aftertaste of the vinegar with each bite. 

Everything was just right, not one flavour outshining the other.

“How is it?” Osamu asked and chuckled as you frantically nodded.

He liked eating, but watching other people eat was a whole other kind of enjoyment.

He watched as you licked away the drop of sauce at the corner of your lips before taking a large gulp of the warm cup of tea in front of you, letting out a satisfied sigh as you held the rim of the cup by your lips.

“It’s so good,” you said, your voice muffled as you pressed the tissue against your mouth, “it’s marinated tuna right?”

You could see the blonde’s behind the owner shook when you mentioned the word “tuna”.

Osamu nodded, his chest puffing out in pride. “Tuna toro marinated in special soy sauce overnight.”

“You had something with a toro filling but you-”

Osamu turned around to give his twin a sharp glare, and Atsumu muttered about how this was the utter betrayal.

“It’s gonna be a hit if you put it on the menu,” you dipped your hand in your bag to search for your wallet, “how much is it?”

“Well, I can’t charge you for something that isn’t actually on sell.”

Your eyes widened. No, you were not going to let him give you free food again. “But-”

“Just get more food when you come back next time,” he said nonchalantly like it made total sense, taking the empty plate in hand and didn’t allow you the time the object, “ok, and that’s settled.”

You wanted to argue that it was not settled, but he didn’t look back as he disappeared into the kitchen again. 

Atsumu looked between his brother and you as you thanked him once again for the meal before leaving. He tilted his head as he watched Osamu smiled at the door even after you were gone. He looked at his twin, and then back at the door, tilting his head as he recalled your exchange earlier.

Next time? Next time???

Atsumu smirked, “You sly, sly bastard.”

“Shut up, tsumu.”

-

“Irasshaimase-” Osamu said, a small smirk gracing his features as he spotted that it was you pushing the door open, “arara?”

“I came to get my daily fix of Onigiri Miya onigiri.” you said in a sing song voice, plopping on your regular seat at the corner of the bar table. The store was bustling with people but somehow, the seat at the corner was always empty when you arrive no matter how many people there was. You greeted several of the other regulars that you recognised, leaning your chin on your palm as Osamu put down the cup of tea in front of you.

“What do you want today?”

“Hm... I don’t know...” your brows furrowed together. No matter how many times you had come here, there was still no way that you could decide on what to get at the spot. It felt like you were missing out on something no matter what you settled on. “What is the owner recommending today?”

Osamu laughed and you couldn’t help but grin. You weren’t sure if it was that he got you so hooked on his cooking that you were mistaking it as attachment or was it genuine attraction, but there was no denying that part of the reason you came back was for the young owner who managed to make the simplest of food tasted like something fit for a king.

“I think I have just the thing for you.” he said, filled with confidence as he turned around.

“Are you not going to tell me what it is?” you leaned forward as you yelled, snorting in amusement as a distant “nope” passed through your ears from behind the curtain. 

You closed your heads, tilting your head as you listened to the soft sound of ceramics clinking, the ticking of the stove and the sound of water boiling. This was nice, you thought to yourself, like home.

“There you go.”

You couldn’t help but laugh when you saw what he put in front of you, attracting the stare of several other customers but you didn’t care. Your cheeks were hurting from how wide your smile was as you took the black lacquerware in hand, humming as you smelt the delicious scent of miso with the stream.

“You are not reminding me of very happy times here,” you pretended to glare at him, your eyebrows quirking up as you sent him a look of judgment but your features softened when you took a sip of the soup. Same old taste, still brought the exact amount of warmth to your heart. Looking back, you were glad that things happened the way it was. There was no more pain left inside your heart when you were reminded of that night, only the simple gratitude that everything turned out alright.

You were doing better now than you were before, and with something to look forward to whenever you walked past the wooden doors that you now know so well.

You finished the soup in gulps, letting out a satisfied sigh as you closed your eyes to take in the flavour. 

It was a good thing that you had your eyes closed, or else Osamu couldn’t stare at you as shamelessly as he was. The way you hold each dish in hand and took each bite with so much joy never failed to give him a rush. 

Osamu liked eating, and he liked watching people eat too but nothing could compare to the thrill he felt when it was you munching down on his cooking like you had been starving until you came to him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love everything you make,” you said, wiping the corner of your lips with your thumb as you took a bite at the plain onigiri, “but I can never get tired of this.”

“I can keep making it for you," he blurted out. You looked up, watching as his eyes widened when he realised what exactly he just said, “if you want...”

And there it was, the same feeling that he felt when you first came into this place drenched from head to toe and your eyes swollen. The same ache at the back of his throat and the weight in his chest that gave him the impulse that he had to cook you something, that he had to make sure you left this place with no more tears in your eyes. 

You smiled, and at that moment he was certain that if it meant he could see that every day, then he wouldn’t mind cooking for you for the rest of his life.

“Of course.”

-

The sharp buzz of your alarm rudely interrupted you from your sleep and you groaned as you rolled to your side.

The other end of the mattress was empty, as always. You laid on the bed, facing the ceiling as you struggle to keep your eyes open. God, you pressed your palm to your forehead, why couldn’t you just spare me five more minutes?

It was the sweet smell floating down the corridor into your nostrils that gave you the motivation to stay awake. You sighed as your stomach rumbled, pushing the blanket off of you as you sat up straight against the back board.

Pulling the first shirt you could find on the floor, you yawned as the black t-shirt that was far too big for you draped over your body. You rubbed your eyes as you made your way down to the kitchen, the sizzling getting louder and louder as you got close.

You leaned on the frame of the door, smiling as you watched your boyfriend stirring at the frying pan with a pair of long chopsticks and the other hand at his waist. You had a deep appreciation for him at all times, but you always swoon for Miya Osamu the hardest when he was in the small kitchen of your apartment.

How could you not fall in love again and again with a man who wakes up early every morning to make breakfast for you?

His back tensed up when he felt you wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and you leaned your face against him pressing a small kiss at the blade of his shoulder. You chuckled as he relaxed again, feeling each flex of his body as you silently admired his built.

“Morning, samu.”

“Morning,” his hand didn’t stop, curling the egg in the long rectangular pan up until it was a nicely formed roll, “breakfast will be ready soon, can you get the bowls out?” 

You hummed, your hands lingering just a little as you let go of him. You took a whiff of the steam as the lid of the rice cooker sprung up, taking the rice spoon in hand and give it a quick fold before filling the bowls up.

Sitting down in front of the table, you leaned back to stare at Osamu who was still busying himself in the kitchen. He was always so concentrated when he cooks, his brows pressed together and lips pursed. The scent of food filled the air as you waited for him at the table, the sound of morning news playing in the background.

Home was knowing that each dish on the table was cooked by someone that has you in their mind and to the person who did the cooking, that no matter what you bring out, there was someone waiting for you by the table.

You looked at the plates lined up on the table with a smile on your face. Today’s breakfast was rice with miso soup, tamagoyaki, pan-fried salmon and salad made with last night’s leftovers. 

“So,” Osamu took his chopsticks in hand after sitting down in front of you and you did the same. 

It was not about what you were eating, it was about who you were eating with.

You grinned as your voices overlapped.

“Itadakimasu.”

[masonscig]

holiday

pairing | mason x aimee lin

word count | 2.5k

warnings | cursing, innuendos [it’s mason and aimee u know what to expect]

author’s note | so our friend group decided to do a little secret santa type gift exchange and i got the lovely @masonsfangs – i couldn’t NOT write maimee !!! not gonna get super sappy on main but i’m so grateful for your friendship, becky and i love you so so so much!

•─────────────────•

Out of all the fucking times he has to run out of cigarettes, it’s the moment he needs them the most.

His hands were quivering ever so slightly in his pockets, but no one would be able to tell unless they were looking for it. And even then, he was hidden by the shade of the door frame – not dark enough, but it’d do.

Why the fuck did he agree to a holiday party? In what world was he the type to go to parties, much less celebrate anything?

The laughter of the surrounding agents, mingling in clusters around the room, pounded at his eardrums like a mallet to its surface. The music flooding through the speakers was even worse, grating at him so intensely that he could feel the individual droplets of sweat start to bead across his palms.

A century’s worth of annual holiday festivities at the agency, and he chooses to attend when there’s ample sound technology to add to the already irritating sound of each voice – he could normally block them out if he needed to, but in a crowd this size? He was lucky if he could manage a couple of seconds where he could hear himself think.

He wasn’t looking for her, no matter how many times Farah tried pestering him about it.

“You got here pretty early, Mason,” Farah started, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “It’s almost like you’re… waiting for somebody –”

“I’m not,” he snapped – two words were an effort to say.

He was straining himself trying to adjust to his surroundings, but it was like no matter how hard he focused, the noise was still deafening, still restricting.

“Well, tough luck. You know she’s fashionably late to everything,” she said. “Said so herself.”

Farah waggled her arm in front of Mason’s eyes, flashing the bright screen of her phone, the string of charms nearly striking his face.

“Yeah, I get it.” He’d been at the party for nearly a fucking hour and she hadn’t shown. He was growing more and more frustrated with each minute.

By the time a few agents had loaded up the table with platters of both human and… not so human foods, he was ready to bolt. The smell of the sweets mixed with the eggnog was overwhelming.

He’d barely been able to manage a couple minutes at Haley’s Bakery each time he went before he dipped out because he craved fresh air.

“Mason,” Nat called from a couple feet away, approaching him with furrowed brows. “You look pale. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine. I’ll manage.” Two word sentences were all he could handle – he hoped Nate wouldn’t notice the slight waver in his voice. He did.

“This isn’t an obligation, by any means. You’re free to leave at any time –”

The side door burst open, and she strode through, her heartbeat faster than normal. A soft flush painted her cheeks, likely from the frigid December winds.

Mason pushed away from the wall, leaving his shaded door frame for the first time that night, completely ignoring Nat’s vocal realization as she figured out why he was there in the first place.

Aimee approached him, still panting from the effort. “Thank god. I thought I ran here for nothing.”

Something about her was different – a good different.

His eyes raked over every inch of her, his nausea fading away as he settled on each change.

Wild curls free from their normal elastic constraint, cheap stud earrings traded for tasteful emeralds, lashes thinly coated and curled, lips a soft rouge – even the flannel was traded for a tinsel lined sweater.

“What’re you looking at?” She asked, lip raised in annoyance.

“Who do you think, sweetheart?” Quick flirtatious retorts were the fastest way to get him feeling like himself again.

She rolled her eyes, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh, shut up.”

His stomach churned as he watched her take a few steps toward the main area. She stopped when he didn’t follow, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum as she swiveled around to throw a look his way.

“You coming?”

He shrugged, hands still trembling in his pockets. “I’m good here.”

Her brows pushed together, brown eyes (almost black as the night sky) flitting across his face.

He should’ve fucking lied better. He didn’t need her worrying and bitching at him because he was a little uncomfortable.

She closed the gap between them, sliding an arm around his waist. “Let’s go.”

“Damn, you really wanna do it outside? You’re adventurous today,” he teased, shoulders instantly relaxing as soon as he felt her hand slip underneath the hem of his henley, cool fingertips grazing the small of his back.

“Maybe,” she grinned, tugging on his torso, leading him to the back doors.

“You haven’t said a word to anyone else here,” he said, planting his feet.

“Since when do you care?” She laughed, flicking a thick curl off her shoulders, clearly not used to the feeling of it on her neck. “You don’t want to be here anyways.”

“Fuck off. I’m just trying to save you from some weird tension with Rebecca.”

She huffed. “Fine. I’m saying hey to Farah, Nat, and… Rebecca, and we’re dipping. Meet me outside.”

He shot her a look, and she shot one right back, challenging him. “Sure,” Mason said finally, shrugging, then strode towards the door with a second glance.

The feeling of the freezing air against his exposed skin was painful to say the least, but holy shit did the knot in his chest vanish the second the night sky was in view.

Within minutes, Aimee pushed through the doors, keys in hand.

“Seems like you were looking for a way out,” he said, trailing behind her.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sunshine. I can think of quite a few places I’d rather be than here,” she winked, unlocking her car and slipping in.

He perched against the side of her hood, feeling the rumble of the engine beneath his hip. Normally he’d be fumbling for a cigarette right about then, but Aimee’s pulse in his ears was the perfect comedown.

The window squeaked as it rolled down, her lips just barely visible over its edge. “Dude, get in. It’s freezing.”

He took a step towards her, pressing his forearm on the top of the door, using it as leverage to lazily bend down. “Where are you taking me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teased, her breath curling and twisting in translucent streams around them, their faces close enough that he felt the warmth of it. “It’s a surprise, dummy.”

He pushed away from the window, making no hurry to walk around the front of her car. Through the windshield, he could see her reel her arm back and motion like she was going to lay on the horn, but the sound never came – a muffled cackle met his ears instead.

He settled into the passenger’s seat, wondering how the fuck it felt colder inside of her car than outside of it. “Jesus Christ it’s freezing.”

He kicked a few wrappers out of his way so he could spread his legs comfortably.

“Once we start moving it should warm up.”

“Or we could heat it up on our own,” he said, head lolling to the side, a lazy grin slowly spreading.

“Oh, keep it in your pants,” she laughed, tossing him a glance over her shoulder as she backed out of the parking spot.

The ride there was calm. The stuttering purr of her engine, the soft gusts of warm air, the faint sweet smell of her gloss – sensations he could handle. Hell, sensations he’d come to tolerate.

Aimee’s quiet hum was the loudest of them all, but he didn’t mind it, oddly enough. He found himself timing her soft intakes of breath between hums with the hypnotising cadence of her heartbeat.

Aimee was a symphony without even realizing it.

“Hey, I’ve got a pack of cigarettes in the glove box and a lighter in my cup holder. Knock yourself out,” she said, breaking him out of his train of thought.

“Thanks,” he murmured, reaching for the lighter and the handle of the compartment.

He placed it between his lips, flicked the lighter, and inhaled, but… he didn’t need to. Force of habit, he guessed.

She pulled into a gravelly patch on the outskirts of Wayhaven. He was familiar with the quieter parts of town, but even this terrain was new to him.

“It’s just down this path,” she said, tossing a blanket over her shoulder while walking away.

He flicked the cigarette onto the ground, grinding his heel into the bud without a second thought. With a few brisk strides, he caught up to her, slinging his arm around her neck over her thick mass of hair.

“You look good with your hair down.”

She tried holding back a smile. “I didn’t do it for you, but I’m glad I have your stamp of approval.”

“I know you didn’t do it for me. I’m enjoying it, though.”

She laughed, her free hand raising to grip his forearm. “I’m happy to distract.”

“Distract me from what, sweetheart? You haven’t even kissed me yet,” he teased, leaning in to speak into her ear.

A slight shiver made its way up her back, but she quickly masked it. “You were uncomfortable.”

They reached the clearing, the edge of the cliff open, overlooking Wayhaven. Aimee laid the blanket down and plopped down wordlessly, patting the seat next to her.

She still hadn’t explained what she meant, and he was too prideful to ask.

He sunk down onto the cold blanket, dangling his legs over the edge alongside hers. They weren’t up too high – far enough that most of the stars were visible, but close enough that the carolers strolling downtown were mere background noise.

The wind whipped at Aimee’s curls, strands tossed around her face like a halo of coils, the scent of her shampoo filling the space between them.

“Your face was contorted when I walked in. Like you’d sucked a lemon or something,” she said, kicking her feet.

“I was fine.”

“You were not.”

“Yeah, I was.”

“You know I’m right.”

He scoffed, leaning back onto his elbows. “No.”

“Whatever you say, honey,” she teased, leaning over, shoving her arm against his, but he didn’t budge.

He eased back onto his elbows, nonchalant. “I didn’t really care to be there. You’re right about that much, detective.”

“Ouch. That almost hurt,” Aimee laughed, pulling her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “‘Thank you, Aimee’,” she said in a voice like she’d swallowed jagged rocks – her worst impression of him yet.

He grumbled in response, settling into his propped up position as the crowds thinned downtown. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before she spoke again.

“They’re gonna be turning on the lights, soon,” she said offhandedly, voice barely above a whisper. Like she didn’t want to interrupt whatever was about to happen.

The lights caught his attention before he could think of a quip. Line after line of Christmas lights lit up, a net of stars hovering above the businesses below. The wind must’ve shaken some of the wires – the breeze made them nearly shimmer.

Nothing was said for a while – the hum of the occasional car passing and the rustling of the tree branches was comforting enough.

Mason caught himself stealing a couple glances her way. Something was still a little different about her. Something he couldn’t put a finger on, but it was undoubtedly there.

“They’re like stars,” he murmured, feeling a little different himself as he watched a shit-eating grin stretch across her face.

He was more surprised with his own reaction than Aimee’s childlike expression at the lights.

“Is that holiday cheer I’m detecting?” She said, whipping around, shifting her weight to her hands so she could lean closer to him.

He shifted, reaching out to her, wrapping a curl around his knuckle. He tugged just hard enough to elicit a soft gasp, followed by her smirk, one that was becoming so familiar to him that he wondered for a split second if to others they looked like mirror images of each other.

“I don’t know, are you gonna show me the true meaning of Christmas or what?” He asked, pulling her even closer – so close that their cold puffs of breath intermingled.

“I would, but I don’t feel like getting arrested for public indecency tonight,” she laughed, her breath a soft gust against his face.

“Then why’d you bring me out here?” He asked, dropping his hand, shifting back to lean on both of his elbows.

She shrugged and turned back to face the town. “Thought I’d show you this place in case you wanted to come back. The warehouse rooftop might get old someday.”

His brows furrowed. She’d never gone out of her way to do something like this for him. She just wasn’t the type.

It’s what he liked about her.

Shit was simple. No complications. Just good, casual sex.

But this was… different. She was different.

And then it dawned on him

That’s what was different about her – holiday cheer? Whatever the fuck she wanted to call it, Aimee had a lot of it.

She didn’t have to say it out loud. Her expression was enough proof.

“Rooftop works fine.”

He didn’t know why he said it. He wasn’t upset with her for bringing him there. He was just… taken by surprise.

Not a bad surprise at all. Just unexpected. Kind of… nice.

She’d brought him somewhere that meant a lot to her, completely unprompted, and didn’t try to jump his bones. 

She rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. “This is the thanks I get for trying to get you to branch out.”

He sensed a shift in her demeanor – she was definitely a little upset with him. He hated damage control in most situations, but with her he’d rather do it before it blew into a bigger fucking mess he wouldn’t be able to clean up.

“Aimee,” he said, waiting for her to turn back and look at him. “Thank you.”

He held her gaze, knowing good and well it was hard for him to convey sincerity, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, their faces close.

A genuine smile stretched her lips thin in a wide grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. Aimee traced the pad of her thumb over the stubble on his chin. “Don’t mention it.”

She tugged his chin forward, lips meeting his in an enveloping kiss, Mason’s experience at the party long forgotten, cigarettes a distant thought.

He’d humor her by indulging in at least the reflective aspect of the holidays.

The shittiest parts of Wayhaven couldn’t touch his best moments with Aimee.

––––

[val-aquenta]

And hey! Bet you didn’t expect a double update, but hey I got inspired. Here for the prompt of non-attachment for Jedi June.

here on ao3

Aayla Secura:

Aayla sat on the spire, exposed to the winds high up here. The ribbons and thread tied to the barrier in front of her almost reached her face where she sat. She thought that, if she tried hard enough, she might be able to pick out her Master's ribbon, a bright yellow embroidered with green. The end, like all other beads, would hold one bead from their braids. Quinlan had said he’d chosen his piloting bead to be left up here, tinkling with the rest, considering all the help that Tholme had done to get him through piloting. Another one she thought she might recognise was a dark purple ribbon with gold beads and a large green one, carved with the symbol for lightsaber studies, likely Master Windu’s ribbon. 

Aayla's ribbon sat in her hand, a bright blue with a few dark brown beads and one rather large grey one dedicated to her general education. She thumbed the bead thoughtfully, rubbing a finger across the smaller brown beads. On the eve of knighthood, they were meant to come here, meditate, tie their ribbon and leave it behind. Part of their life was ending and they couldn’t bring it with them always. Quinlan had done so, meditating for two hours before wandering back down, still as carefree and Quinlan as before. 

Aayla wasn’t so sure she could do the same. So much of her life had been defined by Quinlan. He’d rescued her with Master Tholme, and when Quinlan had felt experienced and ready to teach, he’d taken her on as a Padawan. He’d helped her work through her feelings surrounding twi’lek and their culture. The man had helped her through every obstacle, and she no longer knew if she could leave him behind. Aayla was frightened that if she let him go here, she would be unable to care like she used to before. She looked at her blue string, sparsely tied with brown beads.

Aayla supposed, however, that it was something she had to do. Her past was defined by Quinlan, that was a fact. Her future did not have to be, but it certainly could be if she desired. It was a risk that she had to take. Her Master wouldn’t be hers anymore, but they could still be in each other's life nonetheless. 

“I can let you go.” She mumbled under her breath, tracing the edges of brown beads. “I will let you go.” She continued mumbling, closing her eyes and her hands moving almost of their own accord. “I am letting you go.” Her hands tied a knot, familiar and common throughout the universe. “I have let you go.” She blinked, her hands back on her lap and her string fluttering in the breeze. The light caught another Jedi’s translucent beads, reflecting it in all hues across the spire and Aayla smiled. She was to be a Knight soon, a Jedi apt for solo missions. Her future awaited. She took a moment to bask in the sun, breathing in the peace up here, far away from most people before she stood and began her walk down the spire. 

Mace Windu:

Mace Windu had climbed the spire an hour ago. It was so quiet and he was alone up here. In his pocket, the ribbon weighed heavier than it should. It was purple and gold, what Cyslin said were his colours. He’d honoured his Master with the green mastery bead and, when he’d shown his ribbon to her, Cyslin had gotten slightly teary-eyed, tracing the gold beads with her finger. “It’s wonderful, my Padawan.” She had looked up from the ribbon, purple eyes focusing on him. “I’m proud of you.” Her praise was offered with a smile and Mace had ducked his head, slightly embarrassed before looking at her with gratefulness. She’d affectionately brushed his braid before pushing him out the door and up the tower. 

Now he sat, staring at his hands. He had never really thought about Cyslin and his relationship in connection with how it would continue in the future and, truth be told, he was rather frightened. They were friends, almost equals, so he knew that it was likely that they would remain in contact at the very least, but he knew that some of the closeness would be gone. 

Cyslin’s ribbon had not been described to him, and he could not pick it out from the bunch, but the entire picture of it was rather beautiful. Different colours and different additions. There was beading, embroidery, little bells that tinkled in the breeze, or even lace. Mace brushed his hand through the bunch, feeling the little beads and bells brush against his fingers. There were stories, he was sure, related to every scrap of fabric or thread. That distressed green fabric with embroidered flowers, that braided yarn with an odd combination of silver, brown, red, and pink, even the strange stiff twisted material that twirled and twirled in the wind. Perhaps, he thought, he might draw this. Mace took what he would term a mental screenshot of the image, willing himself to remember. 

Stiff fingers went to his ribbon and pulled it out, admiring the colours once more. It felt too heavy for such a small thing. Mace turned it over and over idly as he thought it over. He was certain that both he and Cyslin would remain friends at the very least. Cyslin was close with her former Padawan Ileria, so there was no reason for him to think that he would not be welcome either. His hands stopped turning over the ribbon and leaned forwards, tying the ribbon in the middle of a bunch where there was an empty place, likely where an old ribbon had frayed and flown away. 

It felt almost too easy, and Mace was worried he was half-assing it. He watched the ribbon fluttering in the breeze, dancing this way and that way before he turned his eyes over the Coruscant horizon. He wouldn’t say that Coruscant’s horizon was the prettiest, not by far as Lathle and its moons existed after all, but Mace would venture and say that most Jedi found it comforting for its sense of home. The hum of speeders was… audible but hardly so. Most of all, the wind was what he heard. 

Mace took a moment to breathe in the air, polluted by the Coruscanti population, before he stood up. He brushed some of his hair, looking at his braid for a moment. Mace looked at the length, noting how it was somewhat shorter than most, but filled with threads and braids. It would be gone soon. He stretched his back and took one last look over the horizon, before turning and walking down the stairs once more. 

Luminara Unduli:

Many mirialans had similar knighthood ribbons. They usually had a base that was the colour of their skin or their lightsaber colour, with black beads and a personal touch. Luminara hadn’t done that. She was known by most of the temple as a more traditional mirialan, wearing the traditional garb, headdress, and jewellery. It did not make her a ‘better’ mirialan, Luminara thought, simply another one. Because of that, her ribbon had been inspired by the jewellery. Gold, black and red with hints of green. It had been somewhat expensive and she knew there would be some Jedi who would disapprove, but she did not care. They followed their Jedi path their way, and she followed hers.

The ribbon had been switched for black fabric, similar to the heavy garments she would often wear. Clipped on were some mirialan badges of gold and black design, the ends had been embroidered with mirialan runes of acceptance in both red and green, and finally her mastery bead of a deep red as a finishing touch. It wasn’t over the top, not for her, but someone would have something to say about it. In Luminara’s opinion, her culture was an important aspect of her apprenticeship and not including it would be extremely strange considering how much it influenced her life in general and her life as Jedi. 

However, with the apprenticeship ending soon, Luminara wondered whether that would change. Having a mirialan Master meant that they understood the importance of their own culture, and she wondered if she might have difficulty connecting to her culture when her Master wasn’t there to help. They had been vital in establishing the interest in her culture and she worried that once her apprenticeship ended part of her would be unable to connect as she had before. 

Regardless, Luminara knew she was to be a Knight and it would come with some risks she had to be brave enough to take. Master Laetur had often said she lacked determination and that she could lose hope and be disillusioned too quickly, but Luminara knew she had to do this. Her fabric was tied onto the rail next to another mirialan’s ribbon carefully. The badges meant it did not flutter in the breeze as most did but that did not matter. She let her fingers linger over the heavy material for just a moment before she was turning and heading down the spire.

Anakin Skywalker:

Anakin’s meditation was… not exactly there. It wasn’t grand, and there wasn’t much of it. He knew what was expected. To spend at the very least an hour, more likely two, contemplating his relationship with his Master, and then letting it go. Acknowledging that it was ending and it would not be the same. Anakin had tied his orange thread, Naboo pendants and one mastery bead on it, off first thing, figuring that he could always meditate deeper on it later. His knighthood was important and he had to reach it quickly. With the war going on, he was… well anxious to end it. For his wife and for the Republic.

He knew this whole thing was meant to symbolise letting go of the past in general, as well as being focused on the apprenticeship of the individual, but Anakin thought it was somewhat strange. Part of life was keeping what you had safe. Force knows he would do anything he could to keep Padmè safe, to keep their love alive. Padmè, Obi-Wan, and the Jedi were important to him, so it followed that he would try and keep them safe. 

Anakin clenched and unclenched his hand methodically on his lap. He was still getting used to the mech hand and, with both Padmè and Obi-Wan’s help, the process was getting easier. He knew that when he was Knight, and when he even became a Master, Obi-Wan would be there. The ginger man was a stable rock who would always be there for him. Anakin would always be there for Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan would do the same. It was basic knowledge. Their apprenticeship might be almost over, but that did not mean they were going to be separated. 

Anakin took a gaze at his thread once more, where it sat, tied to a section of railing with few neighbours. He’d done what was expected of him on his path to knighthood, and now nothing was holding him off from becoming a Knight and soon a Master. He took a breath of the air, not fresh like it was on Naboo, before he stood up, stretching his back and walking back down. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi:

Obi-Wan did not get to wander up the spire prior to his knighthood as he dreamt of doing for so much of his life. Instead, Qui-Gon had been cut away from his life and become one with the Force in the space of one breath to the next. He traced Qui-Gon’s still hand, flinching at the cold that had replaced the warmth of life. He felt wrung out, tired from crying and feeling so much. “I wish you were here.” He whispered to the dark. “You would know what to do.” Qui-Gon did not respond, he never would. Not again.

Obi-Wan’s hand brushed away hairs from his face, looking at the still face, serene in death. He almost looked like he was sleeping. With the dark, the only light coming from the stars and moon out, he might as well have been. “I don’t know what to do,” Obi-Wan admitted, wondering if perhaps his heart still had to catch up with the knowledge that Qui-Gon was dead. Perhaps that was why he kept talking to the shell. It was that or the fact that he could not stand the quiet otherwise. 

Qui-Gon had once described the spire. Reminiscing on the threads that flew in the wind, some frayed and no longer recognisable, some new and so colourful. Beads that clacked against each other every time the wind blew. ‘It is… free up there. You could scream and no one would know.’ Qui-Gon had said. Obi-Wan had always wanted to go there, but he supposed he never would. He would be knighted on Naboo for killing the Sith, and then he would have a Padawan of his own. That was the plan. ‘Train the boy.’ Qui-Gon had also said, and Obi-Wan was loyal. Even though part of him was happy to train Anakin, the young child was quite adorable and had already made quite the impression, another part wanted to remain a Padawan and be able to climb the spire. He supposed, in its own twisted way, Qui-Gon’s death and his subsequent grief could be its own trip up the spire. A cruel lesson, but a lesson nonetheless. 

Obi-Wan bent his head until he could press a soft kiss against Qui-Gon’s forehead. “I miss you.” He rested his forehead against Qui-Gon’s. “Goodbye master.”

[opes-magnas]

The Funeral

How would it be, if you could see your funeral unfold?

I can’t believe they let the casket be open! Gosh!

I can’t look at myself that way, of course no one wants to look at themselves devoid of life and rotting away but it was much more harder for me to be another entity (which I didn’t believe to exist) and just stand there letting my body lay there when I desperately want to wiggle into it, like a cosy blanket that covers your toes when it’s cold but sadly that’s what death means, its finality only hits you only after it scoops up your soul, from the tiny little nest in your body and sets it free, to float in the air, to become one with the soil, to flow like water, to burn like fire or attain peace if that’s what you were destined to for, be one with the most singular core of the universe, which I am yet to know because I’m still here.

With death also comes revelation of secrets which were hidden in plain sight that everyone looked for but never actually desired it or wanted it only for the sake of knowing it. It’s like that tiny voice inside your head which speaks to you and you know everyone also experiences the same thing but no one really speaks about it or wants to prove it.

Wow! death did make me philosophical which I never was, but now I’m not Scarlett Hamilton I’m just a lost soul detached from its anchor, I don’t even know why I’m here, but the weird part is I can still feel strong emotions towards all the people I loved or even hated, I can see my daughter crying a river out, those salty tears roll down like beads stringing along a long pearl necklace I once wore.

Yup, now it’s just getting started, maybe I have willed myself so hardly too able to witness the grandeur of the world just once last time before I go wherever I’m supposed to. So my metaphorical body’s shaking at the thought of being a spectator to my own funeral.

The service started and I was standing on top an empty chair in the last row, I saw my husband standing near the casket with my four other brothers. He’s still as handsome as the first time I laid my eyes on him, I still can’t believe that I landed him, he is like way out of my league.

Those deep blueish green eyes, which appear like the sea bed whenever sunlight hits on it at very specific angles and brings out this certain depth, a mystery, which I would try to unravel every time I gazed into them and one day while eating French toast in a small Parisian cafe I made a rather curious analogy to this one puzzle that I just couldn’t get right, a continuous clockwork ticking and every second it’s different and that can never be brought back and a mystical creature might pop out any moment and he laughed his wide goofy grin which made his dimples appear distinctly. His platinum blonde hair slightly below his ears almost caressing them lightly, I can still remember the way I used to run my fingers through it like it just happened this morning, oh! It did. I’m happy that was the last thing I did before you know, I died. The rippling of muscles can still be seen underneath that black suit he’s wearing, which I picked out for him to wear to the his big Oscar after party. Everything just feels so real yet so far away, I’m right here, but I’m a world away from him. I guess I felt this way when we had a big fight about well I don’t remember what and honestly it was stupid but we stopped talking and when I was sitting right next to him, I felt miles and miles away from him. It was the worst.

I’m longing to have another moment with him, just to tell him that I’ve loved him until my very last breath, literally, that no one else could ever have made more of an impact on my life other than him, and I just have so many things to do.

Funny, now I want to do so many things when I’ve wished to die like a thousand times or probably even tried to. But now since I’m really dead all I want to do is live another moment.

Shaking off the deathly feeling, yeah now I’m definitely in the second stage of grieving, “the acceptance”.

The service started with the father saying some kind words about how I always was such a big donator to the church funds, honestly I did it because I didn’t know what to do with the money I had, it might come of snobbish but that was the truth. Now I’m being applauded for an act I did, not in the intention everyone believes it was done.

Now, I wish was more spiritual than I was, to actually believe there is something out of reach which I thought wasn’t possible cos the motto I always believed in was, ‘There are no boundaries to the knowledge you can unearth. Science can become quite lonely, even when you’re the most alone, if you could just believe you have one other person with you, God, it would be so splendiferous just to never be alone.

Focus, you insipient fool, focus! these are your last moments on this beautiful world, you’ll probably be eternally damned to the meadows of asphodel to have time to ponder upon the tiny nuances of life, right now take in as much as you can, you probably won’t remember Darcy, Ophelia, Zoheth or for that matter Zeke when you leave.

Then, my best friend walked up to the podium, I could the rivers of mascara gushing down, unrestrained, like the mighty rivers, sparing no one who stood in the way, right now the only things that stood in the way were tiny mountains of acne, pimples which were barely visible, but as she always said I was omnipercepient, but that was arrogant on my behalf to actually believe it deep down.

Euphemia, ‘the well-spoken off’, ‘the one who martyred for what she believed in’, is actually what her name means, and I was always awed like how her parents could have even the slightest clue that she would one day live up to the glory that her name had already bestowed on her.

Somebody, in some late night show once asked me to describe Euphemia as a scent. I sat baffled for a minute, because I thought of her as this limitless person who couldn’t be bound by timidity of just words but I did try my best.

I distinctly remember the first time all of my green roses (that’s something I call my gang as, I identified each of them with these characters from Oscar Wilde’s books the first time I met them, and I do hope someone gets this reference for once)

We went hiking to the grand canyon, we climbed uphill all day long soaked with perspiration, but when we reached the peak, I had to remind myself to breathe as I felt so awed by nature, like those slightly purple pink rock mountains rising majestically as in a challenge to the sky, splitting the clouds into an shards of glass when they’re broken, but reflecting the dazzling light in all its glory all across, in every colour I could ever imagine about, huge trees appeared like chess pawns moved here and there by the will of these cordilleras, I just relished every moment I saw this marvellous creation.

Then at night we lit this bonfire, which emanated a strange crackling and pungent smell at first but it soon felt so familiar. Warm and fuzzy that I felt I’ve been discerning this forever. That is how I think Euphemia would be if I could ever convert her essence into a scent.

She pursued her full lips, biting the inside of her cheek, knotting her overly expressive eyebrows into this broken bridge, contracting her face into a lemon being squeezed out of its limit, I could feel the turmoil she was in just by glancing at her. She gripped the mic with her freshly manicured nails and began to speak in a tone I’ve heard her use only a few times.

“Scar, I wish you were here with me…. umm I don’t know what you would want me to say though we talked about every single thing on earth, being the twisted sisters 2.0, but we weren’t dark to begin with.

As you always said, with every end there is a new beginning, as today marks the end of your mortal life here, I so want to reminisce the beginning we had which some might say is odd but we were never normal to begin with.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

I was walking towards me to be dorm, on broken cobblestones, just thinking of how small electrons can be and walked up the creaky wooden stairs and reached ROOM 27 , and I knocked the door and heard a ‘come in’ and dragged my two very huge suitcases in to see her standing there.

She scuffled over in her very high heels thumping methodically against the floor and when I was just about to measure its oscillation period with my pulse rate, she hugged me.

I’m not hugger nor am I a “people person”, so I responded with an awkward side hug and my face buried in her brown curls cascading down to her shoulders.

You must be Scarlet, the genius whiz kid! Hi, I’m Euphemia Clarke, I’m an undergrad in English lit, women studies and philosophy. So?

Umm… I’m scarlet Hamilton, I’m a grad in theoretical and quantum physics and English lit.

But, your of my age, how could you be a grad student? Yeah, I forgot momentarily that I’m in the presence of the next greatest scientist here, ooh we’ll be buddies in English lit. But why English lit? It seems like an odd choice for a science person to be interested in... And your also doing a double degree... what can’t you do! I must bagged the lottery in roommates cos you’re just a dream to be with and ooh nice dress huh... Zara 2018...chic, edgy and makes a statement... thank God! You have a nice taste, I couldn’t possibly live with a horrible makeover gone wrong nincompoop, I would just die a thousand deaths before that.

Uhhh...

Yeah?

Um... I should get settled in, then I might have to go and take a tour of the library, it’s pretty huge and also do some other admin stuff, so I guess I’ll see then.

Shut up, I’m going to help, it literally took an army for my room to be done, I came like 2 days early just to do some painting work, what colour do you like? We could...

My head kept spinning and jumping on ropes just to catch up with her, all I could hear was an echo of words and she did a graceful swirl and smiled at me, “we’re going to be just fine.”

I had the chance to then observe her like I did everyone, a “perfect body” some magazines would say, slender, about 5’2, a brunette with deep green eyes , her eyebrows deserved an award for all the jumps, somersaults, backbends they did and her smile made me feel like I was tasting honey on a warm summer afternoon at centennial park.

I certainly can’t be friends with her, she’s one of the high and mighty sorority girls who went on a shopping spree to Dior, Chanel and Marc Jacobs and spent like $500,000 dollars buying a pair of fur coats and heels and wanted to become a socialite fluttering at parties being ‘the pretty one’ and marry some rich guy and came to colleges like Yale only cos ‘daddy’ paid whoever was looking at her essays to look the other way.

God! Am I judgmental?

(Some months of awkward conversations later)

We were walking to English lit together and she was strutting like a Ralph Lauren model on a runway in ridiculously high heels and just took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze without even looking at me and held the door open.

Today we were discussing about ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and because I’ve almost read the book a hundred times I was very excited to what kind of discussion we were going to have, I have looked at the book from my perspective which is can vary from a hopeless romantic to a strong feminist depending on what kind of mood I’m in, I want to see the book how a person who doesn’t believe in love, feminism, freedom sees it, obviously I will take it offensively but my curiosity multiplies by the second.

She and I spilt as we walked into the class, she went towards the back.

I found my seat in the middle of the amphitheater like classroom, which I think was chosen for English literature class specifically just to add that glamour, majesty and that extra pinch of drama that old English prose gives off. Clever.

Ms. Dalloway started reading the book, which opens with an immortal statement, “It is truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of good fortune must in want of a good wife.” Why don’t we kick the class of by a discussion on this iconic statement? Anyone up for the challenge?

Aah. Scarlet, not you again, I sincerely hope the next time you will allow the other nitwits here to use the fragments of their brains left. But, go on, you certainly are the person to speak about this book.

I think what that sentence means in plain English is that any man who is rich and handsome wants a trophy wife just to look at him as if he’s the greatest and adore him like a silly schoolgirl and basically smother and mother him and nurse his big giant ego.

I think this sentence is truly aptly describes how the society was and is, women are always reduced to matter of objects traded between men and valued only for looking pretty and being a social butterfly and the main goal in their life is to be a human incubators or rather baby machines. On a more serious and highly unfair note of beauty standards, however ugly the man is, he wanted a small waisted, thin, fair maiden from a “good family”. I mean women almost killed themselves trying to please men, wearing those corsets as tight their lungs could probably burst, lead powder as kohl and what not, just so men could feel valued, I don’t know even they even knew what self-respect meant. Jane Austen is a genius, she almost gave a jist of her novel in the very first sentence.

I don’t think she is the right person to speak about this book, Ms. Dalloway, she has only the view of a feminist, when one talks about a book, and it must be from an unbiased view.

All heads turned towards who spoke, even I was surprised that Euphemia could even think about anything other than her Manolo Blanik pink lacy heels she bought yesterday.

I think this story is totally unrelatable, yes I am a woman but it didn’t make it any easier for me to relate to it, I mean like everyone sees Miss Bennet as a prime example of Feminism, strength and how women can make their own way and stand by the things they believe in. But, she is as shallow, narrow as the other women and a big bully. She makes fun of Mr.Bingley because he is isn’t tall, handsome when she herself believes that women must not be judged for their external beauty. Men and women having equal opportunities, isn’t that what feminism means, and isn’t she being a huge hypocrite when she is going against the very ideals she believes in? She also mocks Caroline, who calls her family out on their shit. So, that makes her exactly the same as the others.

That was when I knew she would be my best friend.

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“Yeah and that’s how I knew she would be my best friend, because she stood by what she believed in, actually it is funny my name means the saint who married for what she believed in and her name means wealth and both of us embodied what each other meant and then had an epiphany that we could be what we were meant to be since we were born by looking at each other.”

I will be eternally grateful to Scarlet for making me more than a pretty girl, a woman who was a force of nature, who couldn’t be stopped by these insipid little men. I love you my dear, I always have. The only regret I have is I didn’t say it as often as I wished to. I love you, you have left an everlasting scar on my heart.”

Oh, Mia, I know, I know…

I saw her walk down the aisle and I remembered the day I walked her down the aisle to her husband and she looked at me and told, “You have left an everlasting scar on my heart.”

She looked at Zeke and nodded and went and sat next to Jake who kissed her cheek ever so tenderly and squeezed her shoulders just like I used to and she broke.

Many others spoke, like my mum, whose sentences weren’t distinguishable because of her crying and how God should have taken her instead, and it is so terrible to live after your child had died and looking at my face which was full and pink now shrivelled and almost passed out just to be caught by Papa, who couldn’t look her in the eye.

Mama always loved me dearly, I was the only girl out of 4 boys who were tough, burly and never asked for a kiss and a hug before running off to school, chatted with her late in the night explaining how she saw the world from her tiny green emeralds for her eyes and asked her flaming red hair to be combed into braids and always was willing to hear family gossip.

Well, papa wasn’t as warm and gooey as mum but he loved me , I knew it when he was hard on me to study better even when I got straight A’s and had skipped grades but didn’t give my brothers a twat when they scored less than adequate. He believed in me, which is more than I ever could ask for.

Maybe my cold and hard side was because of him, I was very analytical and logical and never let my emotions interfere with my decisions except when I said yes to my husband.

I never said this thought out loud, not even thought about it to myself, I was never a warm and gooey person who went around telling people how much I loved them, so it comes as quite a shock to me that I could even think of it. Maybe death brings finality to little things that were left out.

Saying the word still gives me chills, which reminds me again that we are never ready for things unless forced upon us. Whoever thinks they are ‘ready’ for life, they mostly never are, I never was.

My children came up, Darcy held Ophelia and Zoh like a fierce lioness protecting her cubs, I knew I raised her right, she took the mic and started speaking so confidently, she turned her steel grey eyes and looked right at me, a sharp light baring through my soul, almost as if she could see me and nodded her head right at me.

“Sorry, mum I haven’t shed a tear for you, even though the cessation of this hasn’t quite hit me yet, but I could see the differences already, nobody told if this black dress was appropriate or if my looked okay and Ophy and Zoh relied on me completely. I am sorry, but I know you never expected me to cry, but I think I know well enough to tell you expected me to be great. I still remember you whispering in my ear, before I entered Harvard, “Be Great or Nothing”, and those words were repeated by me in the break of dawn every day. You were what I wanted to be, independent, brave, most of all I was grateful to God to be blessed with the lottery in genetics. So, ma, that’s what I’m going to be, great.”

I saw the way her eyes sparkled with fear, fierceness almost as if her heart had broken into a million pieces yet she was holding it together not for the sake of putting on a show, but for herself. All I could do was smile, a huge grin actually, all the time I wanted them to be ordinary people, but she proved me wrong, greatness runs inn our blood.

Zoh and Ophelia, my little babies, I wasn’t worried about them either, they did cry though but chanted this one sentence together, “ Vincit qui se vincit .” and the three of them bowed before my casket, touched my feet, an intense bolt and I could hear them whisper together, non-duco ,duco.

An intense bolt of lightning shot through me, I looked at my arms they became almost transparent now. I could feel myself fading away, being sucked into but, I was ready to go before hearing his voice one last time.

My children, I was proud of myself to have raised them, but I looked at the sky above me and thanked the Gods for giving such Brave and strong humans into me. Thank you, thank you.

I was so lost in the maternal glory and satisfaction, I didn’t notice Zeke passing out on the podium before he even uttered a word.

He slowly swayed down, his eyelids shutting down on his beliquent violet eyes gleaming with distress and grief, his hands went upwards in a dramatic manner and his knees buckled down and landed with a thud on the floor, out of habit his eyes frantically searched the room for me before giving out a guttural scream in my name.

Suddenly, everything moved so slowly, people sauntered about as glaze leisurely dripped of a cake, none could hear me screaming, scratching and pushing past everyone to hold him.

The next thing I remember is sitting in a rushing ambulance moving like those cars in video games, twishing and twashing around other vehicles but never actually touching them. I could feel his heartbeat getting fainter and fainter and his hand grappling to my side. I put all the strength I had left in me to push his intense desire to be with me.

The doctors were speaking in a feverish pitch and everyone was so focused on saving him, my reality jilted and I was back in the Lake District National Park, the glacial ribbon like water was still the same, where the sky kissed the tip of peak Windermere who was stretching into the sky, looking for lost love, the purple pink flowers scattered around, the manifestation of temptation, no one resisted in plucking them out ,, the reflection trees into the almost ice like water gleamed like crystals, miles and miles of grass stretching infinitely and in it were a thousand insects, chirping and hooting and going by their lives not knowing the amount of tragedy that has befallen the world and a plaid picnic spread over with all my favourites which included my person.

I remember this day, the day of my betrothal to my beloved.

Ezekiel, the same serene look on his face, his mouth puckered into a smile that tugged at his dimples, his platinum hair swaying the wind and his hands beckoning me towards, as much as I wanted to go, I stood rooted where I was. Even if I moved an inch, I somehow became aware of the repercussions, the loss of his life, the more intense his desire to stay with me, the less will he has to live.

Dr.Burke once said, “With all medical realities being equal, why does one person live and another die? I believe there is a mind, body and spirit connection.”, if Zeke doesn’t want to live, no matter how much the odds that favour him, his body will defy everything to be with, me.

Our love, was the kind of love that came around once in a lifetime, the pure love which doesn’t expect anything in return but just loves not because of the looks but because of the thoughts, the feelings and mostly the heart. I loved Zeke with every inch of my body, every cell in my being and it tears my heart to leave him alone, but I won’t be selfish today. He still has a lot left to do, his time hasn’t come yet, and death hasn’t knocked upon his door so I’m not going to slip the key to it.

He smiled, “Scarlett, my sun, my moon and stars, come, please. You know why, I can’t live another minute knowing you’re not there to lay my head upon your lap and talk about how our day went, or to see your chest collapse and fall with every breath, the comfort it gives me, just in  knowing your alive . No, no, no!!”

I know, but you must always remember that I will be live as long as there is a place for me in your heart, I will live in those times your remember me and smile, I will live in those moments where you and the kids look up to the sky and say my name, I will live as long you draw breath, do you wish to kill my legacy? Do you? Go back Ezekiel, go back, I will wait for you.

His face contorted into a fit of rage, sorrow, despair and he walked near me and starting thrashing wildly, kicking his arms and legs in all inhumanly directions, screaming, yelling and when I looked into his eyes and gave him one last look, he stretched his arm out to lightly touch my fingertips and whispered,” Goodbye, my love, I will live for you.” as he knelt before me the same way he did that day.

I felt myself being swirled into a whirlpool of light, stretching me into long into infinite bounds, suddenly filled with power and just the feeling of being complete and then darkness enveloped everywhere.

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— Whoosh, a gust of wind blew over his face, almost caressing him. —

His eyelids fluttered open just a little, just enough to a peek at what is around him.

“Where am I? “

Daddy, you fainted at mum’s... umm... funeral and had a heart attack on the way, but now you’re okay, I sent Ophelia and Zoheth home, they persisted to stay but they had to go to school, that’s what mum would have wanted. You were muttering something in your sleep about seeing mum... Did you actually see her?

Yes, I did, she convinced me to stay. Go home, and take rest, you need to get back to college, remember what we promised mom? We are going to keep our word. Go.

She came and hugged him and gave a toothy grin and said,” Yes.” and closed the door behind her.

Thoughts flooded Zeke’s mind, he could remember clearly what happened at the lakes, and he knew what he was going to do. He clutched at his wedding ring and gazed outside his window knowingly. Even dead, Scarlet had made him a better man.

Scarlett I hope your happy.

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“What I want in my life is willing to be dazzled, to be cast aside by the weight of facts and maybe even float a little above this difficult world.” ~ M.O.

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Love,

Lady Lazarus

(picture and prompt from: pinterest)

[bythexdreadwolf]

30 DAY PROMPT CHALLENGE.

day 02: dance.

SOLAS (FEN’HAREL)//NERYS LAVELLAN.  WORD COUNT: 1,833. BY KAZ. AO3 LINK.

Her hand wraps briefly around the well-worn lover’s knot at her wrist, fingers gently grazing the ragged twists and knots as her eyes close.  She inhales, once.  Twice.  Those that have seen her on the battlefield know that this is the calm before the fury of the storm is unleashed.  Her weight rests on her left leg, while her right foot barely hovers above the ground directly behind her stave.  In a flash, those golden eyes fly open and she kicks up the stave, and the fight begins.

She launches her assault against him immediately, aiming a four-point strike to his midsection.  He blocks and she grins, throwing her weight into where their staves crash against each other.  He’s momentarily caught off-guard; he’s seen her in battle, he knows what she’s capable of.  But watching it and being on the receiving end of those blows, even without her magic, is completely different.  For a moment, a sliver of doubt crosses his mind, especially as he remembers her almost-hungry grin when he accepted her challenge to practice.  That same predatory grin is on her lips now and he scowls.  

“You’re the one who said no magic, Pavus,” she reminds him, before ducking under his forward blow and spinning out of the way as if she weighed nothing.  He has no blows to her four.  The first to ten or the first in the dirt buys the other whichever book they desire from Val Royeaux.  Not even ten minutes in, and he wishes he’d just cut his losses and handed her the gold.  

“Yes, and I am beginning to regret that decision.”

“Oh?  Is the big bad Altus admitting defeat so soon?” she mocks, spinning on the ball of her foot as he tries to strike at her ribs.  His own are smarting from her blows and he’s yet to return the favor.  A crowd’s begun to gather.  

“Never,” he growls and launches a flurry of blows at her, each of which she expertly blocks before resting her stave across her shoulders, dancing through the dirt away from him.  This was what she loved, the thrill of the fight, the familiar ache of exhaustion in her muscles.

“Stand still, damn you.”

Nerys simply cocks an eyebrow, though her eyes flash with amusement.  She’s too good at this.  Her years training as First to her clan meant more practice with combative magic.  To protect herself, to protect her clan, that was her sacred duty.  This dance was as natural to her as breathing.  She kept her weight on the balls of her feet as she dodged, light and swift.  Twice he managed to catch her on the thigh.

Four to two.  

“Knock him on his ass, Boss!” the Iron Bull called from the sidelines, and then that amused grin turned feral.  

Her assault was relentless as she lithely jumped back into the fray, spinning her staff in an arc around her body that struck him in the ribs and momentarily stole the breath from him.  Even with the way she was holding herself back, there was still enough force behind the strike that it was going to bruise.  

Five to two.  

Another four point strike, two of which he blocks, two of which he doesn’t, but he lands a hit on the base of her spine that sends her hissing.  

Six to three.

“I do believe I’m winning,” she says, pushing a sweaty curl out of her face.

He just laughs and brings his staff down to meet hers with a thunderous crack.  He tries to press the advantage he has on her in size and strength, but she simply ducks out of the way, spinning and smacking his backside before she spins again and knocks his feet out from in under him.

“Yield?” she asks, one foot on his chest as she leans on her stave.  

He glowers up at her, that perfectly primped moustache still, somehow, miraculously intact.  He must magic the damn thing into place.  

“Never,” and one hand is reaching out to swipe her ankle.  She topples with a yelp, dropping her stave into the dirt, landing on top of him.  For a moment they both grapple, both fighting to pin the other.  The crowd is jeering at this point, Bull’s cries of ‘Kick his ass!’ ringing the loudest, before she uses his weight against him and pins him to the dirt with her knees on his chest and her hand at his throat.

“Yield?” she presses with a grin and Dorian lets loose a string of curses in Tevene that she must get him to teach her.

“Very well, you cheating little vixen, I yield.”

She clambers off of him and helps him to his feet as the crowd cheers.  She dusts him off and gives him a one-armed hug.  

“I do believe that’s going to bruise.”

“It is simply your ego that has suffered, Dorian, not your backside.”

Dorian smacks her on her calf playfully on his way out of the sparring ring, muttering curses the whole while.  She makes her way over to the fence and retrieves her water skin, uncorking it and surveying the crowd around her.  Many of them offer their praises on the display of her abilities and Dorian’s, but she doesn’t really hear them.  Despite the chill in the air, there’s sweat beading down her back.  She ties her tunic under her breasts and sweeps her hair off her neck, tying it back with a leather thong she keeps on her wrist.  Her muscles ache in that delicious way after a good fight, and she finds she’s wanting more.  She wants to practice until she collapses into a deep sleep, until exhaustion claims her body and her mind and she can forget everything.

Forget her clan.  Forget her daughter.  Forget the atrocities she has seen and the fact that she’s going to die in this gilded cage because to abandon this fight is to abandon her clan for true.  She tilts the skin back and takes a long, icy drink, the cold shock of water soothing her parched throat.  She’s so lost in the hammering of her own heart and her thoughts that she almost doesn’t hear his near-silent footfalls approach her through the crowd of soldiers chatting and taking up their own arms to spar.

“That was a well-fought match.  My congratulations on your victory, vhenan.”

He’s surveying her with a sense of pride and awe and something else that has his pupils blown wide.  Hunger.  One predator to another.  She knows that look well.  She wears it every time he kisses her.  It’s been a long time since anyone’s looked at her like that.

“Ma serannas, Solas.  Care to join me?  I could use a challenge.”

He laughs, deep and throaty, and she feels a heat blossom in her belly.  What she wouldn’t give to feel that laugh ghosting over her ear, or on the hollow of her throat, or on her lips…

“Ma nuvenin, vhenan.  Without magic, I presume?”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” she smirks.

He climbs over the fence with a grace that seemingly doesn’t fit his unassuming demeanor, taking Dorian’s discarded stave from where he’d stashed it on the weapons rack and rests it across his shoulders.  His movements are lazy, slow, the careful air of someone who is in their element.  

This should be fun.

She crouches into a different stance than the one she used with Dorian.  Solas is harder to read, more prone to stealth attacks than flashy moves or brute force.  He is as seasoned a warrior as herself, and part of her wonders what manner of things someone who claims to simply adventure to learn more of the Fade has come across.  

She makes the first move, an overhead strike that he manages to parry.  It sends a shockwave down her arms and she laughs, high and light.  His face is carefully blank as he spins the staff around his body with him, aiming for her hip.  

She doesn’t dodge quick enough.  One to nothing.

An uppercut misses its mark as he knocks her staff away.  She lands a hit on his shoulder.  He catches her on the arm.  He’s restraining himself, even more than she had with Dorian.  It’s frustrating and exhilarating all at once.  She’s lost herself watching him fight before.  He’s graceful, elegant.  Deadly.  It sends a thrill through her as they circle each other, and she wishes he would just let go.  She wants to see just what he’s made of.

Nerys rushes in and is blocked.  Her breathing is becoming labored, but aside from the furrow in his brow, he’s showing no signs of strain.  Two to one.  They’re too well-matched.  She tries to duck into his space, but in a move she doesn’t see coming, he manages to trap her between his body and his stave, the wood held lightly against her throat.  

“Dread Wolf take you,” she hisses, though there’s amusement coloring her tone.  Three to one.  She can feel, rather than see, his smug smile before he releases her and she thrusts, trying to take advantage of his open core.  Parried.  She’s starting to understand Dorian’s frustration.  They keep at it, and the crowd that was watching her and Dorian has now tripled in size.  She thinks she spies the Commander in the background and Cassandra beside Bull, but there are no catcalls this time.  

No noise permeates the crowd as they watch the two mages circle each other, each trying to find an opening, waiting for one of them to expose their weaknesses.  There’s a tension in the air.

Apostate versus apostate.  She takes a second to ground herself, feeling the cold, packed earth beneath her toes.  Pitted, from too many fights.  Easy to lose your balance, she notes, and she side-steps his staff to find more even ground.  Balance, Deshanna echoes in her mind.  Find your balance.  

And then she lets go.  In the ring, he is not her vhenan.  He is simply an obstacle that must be overcome.  He matches her blow for blow, his breathing becoming labored.  She lands another hit.  Then another.  Three to three.  But they feel like hollow victories.  She gets the sense that he’s toying with her, like a cat plays with a mouse.  She missteps, and he pins her against his chest again.  

“Do you wish to yield?” he asks, sounding amused.

“Never,” she echoes Dorian, and she reaches and grabs his stave with one arm, momentarily taking him off guard.  With a yank and a twist, she slips out from his arms and whacks him on the hip.  He laughs, and the sound is so genuine it makes her pulse flutter.  And then, suddenly, he’s turned the fight.  Not that it took much effort on his part, really.  He hovers on the balls of his feet above her, smirking.  

“I do believe this dance is mine.”  

[iamtaekooked]

Chasing Jeon || jjk || 1

Summary: 

You are the definition of a good girl. You obey your strict parents, get good grades, say your grace, and keep your head down. He’s got a don’t-give-a-damn-attitude, he cant talk straight, he is intimidating, and a man of few words. What happens when a sudden meeting at a club leads to a string of events that causes you both to be tangled up? Who knows 🤷🏼‍♀️

Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst ft a tsundere! jungkook (just a tiny bit)

Word count : 5.0k 

A/N: I am trash for this man. I can't help it. You knew this was going to happen. So, please enjoy this trash fic which puts my trash ass for tsundere Jeongguk on display. Who wouldn’t love angry-young-man Jeongguk?

m.list

The day at college went by a blur and you didn’t pay attention to a single word. The same happened in the last block when you found yourself sitting in calculus class with the professor rambling on about some equation. If only equations could solve all your life’s problems you would have listened. But they cannot. Equations, and formula’s couldn’t fix the monotonous life you lived, they couldn’t fix the boring ins and outs of daily life that had finally taken a toll on you, and neither could they satisfy the weird craving for different that suddenly held your mind in a shackle.

The honest truth was you were tired of being tied down, and having to be obedient all the time. It felt like being a slave in your own life, with no agency or freedom. Your parents had high expectations so your whole life revolved around books, and school. Like other kids your age you had never been to a party,  never smoked, or drank, or had any hot boyfriends to gush about.

Simply put in other words you were the epitome of a good girl who got the good grades, said her prayers, and lived life the way parents wanted her to. But that was not enough anymore. You wanted something different, something exciting. To save you, or maybe to ruin you because maybe your saving grace lied in being destroyed.

And so you set out on the search for something exciting, something unfamiliar, which in your case happened to be a club.Even though you wanted to do something different, a club wasn't on the list. The whole idea made you nervous You looked at your friends with a doe-eyed, mildly shocked expression as they mentioned it as the beginning point of your introduction to the “adult world”. Although you were just as much of an adult as them. 

“Come on, live a little will you?” Taehyung propped his feet on cafeteria table, leaning back in his chair.

“He’s right you know. Get out of your world for once, and experience being a teenager” Hyeri contributed to the less than desired conversation, from next to you.

“I agree” Lucas joined in as well, and you shot him as dirty of a look you could muster but as usual he shrugged.

“I know you don’t want to honey, but seriously let loose for once. Besides I won’t leave you side for one second” Sora, the one person in the group you felt closest to, smiled brightly at you.

You looked around at you friends, all of whom were looking at you in anticipation. The hopeful looks on their faces, was enough to make you want to give in. So with a groan you placed your head on the table and they all erupted in cheers and Lucas patted you on the back as a congratulatory gesture.

“This is going to be your adventure” Taehyung enthusiastically sang and everyone erupted in laughter, except for you

“What about my parents?” Your head shot up from the table and you looked at them in panic, as you suddenly remembered your parents aren’t as lenient as you would like them to be.  

You couldn’t understand why this group of people chose to keep you with themselves when you were so different from them.

“You are staying over at my place tonight to work on that project remember?” Sora winked at you.

It took you a moment to realize what she was implying but you hesitantly nodded in agreement. Lying wasn’t an easy thing to do for you. You were the worst liar possible and that is what made your friends stick by you because they knew you were loyal. They knew they could rely on you and vice versa you could always count on them to show you the ropes of life. You were the baby of the group after all.

“Okay so, its decided. We’re meeting at 7 pm at Orion” Taehyung declared and everyone nodded. He got up from his seat as he had his last lecture of the day to attend. Mid way he turned around to face you “Y/n, baby, please wear something nice. The goal is to get laid”

“What?! Thats gross” You shrieked and it elicited laughs and chuckles from everyone.

“Jesus will be proud of you” he winked and left you to ponder his horrifying statement.

Flashes of silver and blue shot from the disco lights all around you. The pounding music, the pungent smell of smoke was beginning to make your head hurt. Looking around, there was sea of people yet you felt completely alone; even with your friends there with you. As your eyes scanned the scene, they stopped at a particularly handsome man, standing in the corner of the club, with a girl attached to his neck. He didn’t look like he cared much for her, since he looked completely disinterested in what she was doing, and continued on smoking.

He was dressed in all black from his shirt to his boots. The hazelnut-brown hair were parted slightly lateral to the middle of his forehead, his soft locks falling on either side. His jawline was strong and sharp, and his eyes were deep and intense. You realized he had caught you staring at him and quickly looked away. But two seconds later when you looked back, he was still staring at you, taking another long drawl from his cigarette. Momentarily, the smoke obscured your view of him but when it cleared you discovered that he was by himself, the girl nowhere in sight.

You knew he was dangerous territory, but you were drawn to him. You had never laid eyes on someone as beautiful as him. Even your long time crush on Chris Hemsworth seemed like child’s play compared to the tickling feeling he provoked in your stomach with his piercing gaze. His scrutinizing stare made your stomach bundle in knots and nervous energy flowed through your entire body in the form of hot, flushed cheeks. It raged on in your bones in the form of a longing ache, and it spun in your head making you feel lightheaded. He was like a walking, breathing intoxication.

You tore gaze away from the alluring, mysterious stranger and onto Sora who had been rambling on about something you had stopped paying attention to a long time ago. She turned towards you with a knowing smile on her face.

“He’s been looking at you since we entered” she leaned in to your ear and practically yelled over the loud music. You flinched away from her, covering your possibly deaf ear.

Your eyes hesitatingly flickered to the man in question and yet again his eyes were on you. “He’s not my type” you yelled back to Sora, heart hammering in your chest at the straight lie you told her. Because he was exactly your type.

“Oh honey, you know you can’t lie, so why bother” she winked at you “Besides he’s coming this way” she threw a smirk at you, and her words had you frozen in the spot.

You couldn’t move, you couldn’t even think. You recalled his dark eyes on you and it was enough to make beads of sweat roll down your forehead, and enough to make your knees tremble.

“What am I supposed to say to him?” voicing your thoughts aloud, you gulped. “What do I do?” you looked at Sora and the rest of your friends in absolute panic.

“Just be yourself” and that was the shittiest piece of advice someone had ever given you. Because its never just easy to be yourself, especially not in front of a handsome, god-like creature like him.

Your heart sank to the depths of darkness when your friends all decided to vacate the booth; the smirks and knowing smiles on their faces giving away their amusement. An expression of absolute betrayal crossed your face.

“Sora, you said you wont leave my side for one second” you whined, and held onto her wrist in a desperate attempt to save yourself from the handsome stranger who was apparently still approaching you.

“I said for one second. I never said I wouldn’t leave you for two seconds or even a minute” she winked at you and gently uncurled your fingers from her wrist.

Wow what a- female dog- because bitch is too much of a mean word

You watched in panic as they all left one by one, leaving you alone to deal with him. To say the your were feeling anxious was an understatement. Even if you were told you failed an exam you wouldn’t be this scared. Even if you were expelled from college you wouldn’t be so damn scared out of your wits. Even if-

Your thoughts were put on hold by the sexy stranger taking a seat in the booth, next to you. You swallowed hard, although your mouth had gone completely dry. You still hadn’t moved from your stiff position, and it seemed as if you probably wouldn’t for the next while. Your hands fidgeted in your lap and the air of awkwardness that suddenly fell over you was more than suffocating.

He didn’t acknowledge you even as he settled next to you. His eyes scanned the club, the cigarette dangling from his lips lazily. You glanced up at him despite the nervousness coursing through your body. But you were quick to look away because he had suddenly turned his attention towards you , as if bored by all that he was seeing. Your breathing increased, chest rising and falling rapidly, heartbeat hammering in your ears. 

“Not your scene?” His sudden question caught you off guard as he turned his head towards you, arms sprawling the back of the booth.

“Uhm.. no. Not really” your eyes remained on your lap as you answered.

“What?” For some reason his voice sounded closer to your ear than before, and sure enough when you looked up, he was literally leaning in towards you, speaking in your ear.

The first thing that caught you off guard was his closeness. The second thing was the way his breath tickled your ear, and the third was the scent of his cologne that surprisingly was still very strong despite his smoking. Your words got stuck in your throat refusing to come out again.

Instead you settled for shaking your head at him, because that ought to do the trick. Or at least you hoped, but the stranger had taken it upon himself to shift closer to you, although not necessarily leaning into your ear. You didn’t really think you were going to get out of it alive given that your heart threatened to beat out of your damn body at his closeness. It wasn’t as close- it was still a respectful distance- but to you it felt very intimate. You shook your head at yourself for acting so pathetic around a guy.

Relax, he is a human being like any other human being-

No. No he isn’t. He is sex on legs- Hyeri’s voice drifted through your head

Your own thoughts surprised you so you shook your head vigorously to drive them away. The man next to you was looking at you with mild curiosity and interest. He blew a puff of smoke your way and you had to hold the cough back.

“Do you usually go by a name or is that not your scene either?” the unsuspecting dry humour surprised you as your head shot in his direction.

“Uh-  ____” you said as loud as you could because you really did not want him leaning into you again or your heart might just stop beating.

“Hmm” he said pointedly, but a smirk lifted up at the corner of his lips.

You weren’t sure if you should ask him his name, or not. But common sense dictated that, as a small gesture of basic decency you should.

“How about you?” you glanced at him and for a few seconds he was silent. He studied your face before replying

“Jeongguk. Or just call me Jeon” he fell quiet after the very brief introduction

A small stretch of silence fell between you. You knew you should ask him something, but you didn’t want to come off across as desperate, or annoying. So you kept your mouth closed and just sat next to him, observing people around you. Or rather trying to because your attention was definitely still stolen by Jeon- thats what you decided to call him because it was easier.

But then for a moment your attention was caught by another very handsome stranger, who also happened to be walking in your direction. He had ashen blonde hair, and he was sporting a mullet, but it wasn’t the kind you saw in 80’s movies. He pulled it off well, really well in fact. As he approached you, you took in his appearance and indeed the man was tall and handsome. But maybe not as much as the one sitting next to you.

He stopped in front of you, extending a hand “would you like to dance?”

Your eyes widened at his question, and sure enough Jeongguk who previously hadn’t been paying attention to you was now looking between you and the stranger.

Your eyes flickered to his hand and then to his face as you tried to determine what to say. You were torn between yes and no, because for one you didn’t know how to dance and second you weren’t sure you could handle the man in front of you. For some odd reason you looked at Jeon who gave the guy a once over before focusing his attention back to the surroundings. He didn’t seem to care, which disappointed you a little bit.

You looked back at the man in front of you and decided you might as well be nice and accept his offer. So you slid your hand in his. He led you to the dance floor where the music was so loud that it rang in your ears. You could feel the vibrations running through your body. You were so caught up in the loudness of the music that you were taken aback when the man flipped your around in his arms, making you face him. His hands settled on your hips. The sensation was uncomfortable to say the least because you weren’t exactly used to being groped by strangers.

Then your gaze drifted to Jeongguk who was sitting in the booth and observing you. A brief moment of eye contact later he stood up, throwing the butt of his cigarette into the cigarette bowl. Your heart sank as you watched him take long strides and disappear behind a crowd of people. 

The stranger hooked a finger under your chin to focus your attention back to him. You passed him a small smile, despite the anxiety creeping inside your chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Where are you looking baby girl?” You tried hard not to wince at his choice of words but the discomfort was clearly visible in your contorted facial expression.

You tried looking for your friends- Hyeri, Tae, Lucas, or Sora- but not of one of them was in sight anywhere near you. Traitors.

His hands were reaching a dangerous territory and you placed your palms against his chest to push him off, but he was far too strong.

“Hey baby” you heard a whisper in your ear and a hand snaking around your torso, pulling you away from the guy and into a firm chest.

The smell of musk filled with hints of orange hit you, and instantly you knew it was him. He turned you around in his arms, to make you face him. His eyes were gentle and soft as he spoke “Is he bothering you?” 

It made you week in the knees, but thankfully you were secure in his arms as he gripped your waist. You were grateful for the loud music otherwise he would have heard you gasp. You shook your head, but he knew better. Puling you beside him, with a hand holding your wrist he spoke to the guy “She’s with me”.

Looking at the guy mockingly, he placed a kiss on your cheek. Your heart leapt inside your chest for a second. Or maybe even longer than a second but you didn’t care because his touch was absolutely maddening.

The guy fumed and uttered some very colourful words at you both before stomping off the dance floor. Then in an instant he let go of you and the warmth coursing through your veins was replaced by something cold and longing.

“Thank you” you yelled over the loud music but he strained his ear in your direction.

“I said thank you for helping me out” you yelled once more.

He nodded curtly, and without a word turned back around and left you by yourself on the dance floor. Your jaw dropped because you couldn’t figure just who he was. Was he a nice guy or was he the ‘something different’ you had been looking for?

Shaking your head at yourself, you decided it would be best to look for your friends. You walked around the whole club, pushing through intoxicated, putrid smelling bodies to find them. As expected none of them were conscious. You spotted Taehyung in one of the booth’s half conscious.

“Y/N” he mumbled and took a hold of your wrist

“Alright we’re getting you home” you draped his arm over your shoulder and supported him. But boy was it a workout in heels.

Once you had all your friends together in once place, you called a cab for them. One of the bouncers was kind enough to help you get them into the taxi.

“Thank you” you smiled warmly at the tall man and he nodded at you, reciprocating your smile. “You be careful miss”

You gave the taxi driver the address to Taehyung’s apartment. It was spacious and big so the four of them could spend the night there. You squished yourself in the backseat and Hyeri snuggled up to you in her drunken state.

You and the taxi driver hauled the guys up to the apartment which happened to be at the top of floor of the building. After everyone was safe and sound in Taehyung’s apartment you took Hyeri and Sora into the guest bedroom. Taking their shoes off you draped them with the blanket.

Then with much difficulty you took Tae first and then Lucas into his room and took their shoes and socks off, and covered them with the duvet as well. Proceeding into the kitchen you filled four glasses of water and grabbed some ibuprofen from one of the kitchen cabinets and put them respectively into each room. Because they were going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.

Shutting the door you made your way outside but you had no way of getting yourself home. Even the taxi driver had left and the buses were on strike.

After about 5 minutes of worrying about it, you facepalmed yourself because you wouldn’t be going home anyway, since you had told your parents you were at Sora’s. But the problem was you had left your casual clothes at her place and her parents weren’t home. You couldn’t go home the next day wearing your clothes because your parents would find out and nothing at Taehyung’s would fit you. Besides it would be weird going home in the morning and having to explain to your parents why you were wearing a guy’s clothes.

Your attention was drawn by a motorcycle zooming past you and towards the building parking lot. Reckless drivers really got on your nerves because this guy could have easily skidded and taken you along with him. You turned around to give him a piece of your mind but froze in your spot when Jeongguk’s face emerged from behind the helmet. He had stopped mid way and turned around to look at you.

“You again” he turned the bike around, and stopped next to you. You turned towards him.

“Uh- yea. Hi” you tucked your hair behind your ear, shifting awkwardly on your feet.

He fell silent as he just looked at you, eyeing you up and down once more. You suddenly felt very self-conscious and heat rose to your cheeks. It made you feel more uncomfortable, a lot more than you would have liked.

“D- do you live here?” you questioned timidly, unsure of whether it is too personal to ask. But you had to say something, otherwise you would die of awkwardness.

“Why, you wanna come up?” Your head shot up at him, eyes wide and jaw agape. You watched a cocky smirk make an appearance on his lips.

Quickly averting your gaze to the ground the words left your mouth in a less than graceful fashion.

“No! I- I just- you know asked because you were here and I just wondered if you lived here or.. maybe not. I was just asking for conversation sa-” you faltered when you realized it was awfully silent and for a moment you wondered if he had left, much like he did at the club. So, you looked up and to your relief he was still standing there, straddling his motorcycle. His arms were folded in front of him and mildly amused expression flashed across his face.

“Yeah. I live here” his words were concise and pointed, voice devoid if any expression. It was as if he was a robot.

“Cool” you mused, and nodded your head.

Another stretch of silence spread and you wondered why you even ran into this guy. Then you remembered you couldn’t thank him properly before.

“I just wanted to thank you again for helping me earlier at the club” you smiled at him slightly but as usual his face was devoid of any expression. So unreadable.

“Do you usually like walking around aimlessly at night?” his question caught you off guard, and you realized that this guy could never talk straight. It took you a moment before you figured out he was asking if you lived in the building. A normal person would have just asked that, but he definitely wasn’t like anyone else you knew.

“Oh- no, my friend lives in the building. They were all drunk so I brought them here” you paused “and now I am stuck” you mumbled the last part, averting your gaze from him to the ground.

“Stuck?” he raised a curious eyebrow at you.

“Yeeaah…” you dragged the word “I am in a bit of a situation right now” a nervous chuckle escaped past your lips. Your gaze was still affixed to the ground

“How are you getting home?” His words were pointed and sharp

“Well I cant because I sort of li- ” you stopped mid-sentence because it was weird spilling your guts to a stranger you didn’t even know. “You know what its okay. I’ll figure it out. Thank you again” you smiled up at him and began walking in the opposite direction to get to Sora’s place because that was the only way you could go home in the morning.

You sort of hoped he would follow you, or ask you what you were going to do but you doubted that would happen. He didn’t exactly seem like the kind of benevolent person who would go out of his way to offer you a ride. But then he did help you at the club so who knows?

You were rounding the corner of the building when suddenly the bike stopped next to you.

“Get on” his deep voice reached your ears and you looked up to find him motioning with his head to the back seat of the motorcycle.

“No- its really okay-”

You were cut off by his irritated sigh. He surveyed the area around you before focusing his attention back to you. You looked around in confusion as well, trying to figure what it was he was looking for.

“Get on. I am not gonna say it again”

“But-” your protests were halted by the icy glare he was throwing at you

You bit your lip partly in hesitation and partly in indecision. You looked back up at the man and the serious look on his face was enough to prompt you to accept his offer. You hesitantly took a seat behind him, holding onto the back of the seat.

Jeongguk pursed his lips and sighed heavily. “You might wanna hold on.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and you reached out for his waist slowly, almost hesitantly. But suddenly the bike sped up to a start causing you to jerk forwards, arms automatically securing around him. Your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden contact. You could feel his firm muscles beneath the shirt which obviously didn’t help the situation.

The wind whipped your hair as he shot through the streets, zooming past the cars, wiggling in between them. It felt like freedom as your surroundings passed by, and the wind howled in your ears. You let go of him and spread your arms out wide and closed your eyes to feel the cool air soothing your warm face. But the feeling didn’t last long as he sped up more causing a jerking motion and your hands settled on his shoulders.

“Where is your house?” he asked

“I am not going to my house. Take me to my friend’s” you replied

He looked over his shoulder and you could tell he was puzzled because you could see the creases on his forehead from the side.

“Long story” your abrupt response was enough to make him turn around and focus his attention on the road again.

You arrived at Sora’s house but you had no way of going inside since you didn’t have a key and her parents weren’t even home. Your clothes were in her room which happened to be on the second storey of the house. You looked at her house trying to think of a way to get your clothes because otherwise you were screwed and your parents would ask you a million questions, in the morning.

“Are we waiting for Christmas?” Jeongguk’s voice drew you out of your thoughts.

“There is.. a tiny problem” you said timidly

He looked over his shoulder again “What now?” he paused “and can you get off and face me so we can talk like normal people”

You realized he must have been having a hard time turning back around every single time.

You lifted a leg and got off the backseat. Once you were in front of him you continued “Her parents arent home and well my clothes are in her room and I don’t have the keys…. obviously…” you looked away from him sheepishly.

Jeongguk raised both eyebrows at you in question “Are you fucking serious?”

You sighed through your nostrils as you looked at him pleadingly “Yeah…
 “ you bit your lip in nervousness as he glared at you. “I wouldn’t ask you but there is a pipe outside that goes up to her room…”

It was a good thing she never locked her window. She should but it was coming in handy for once.

“No fucking way” he deadpanned, tongue sticking in his cheek as he stared at you in disbelief

“Its okay, I’ll manage” you shook your head at him before proceeding towards the front lawn.

Jeongguk watched you struggle from his spot to climb up in the dress.It was making  nearly impossible for you to get up. You were trying but it was way too tight for you to have any free leg movement. You stood beneath Sora’s window, finger on lips in concentration as you tried to determine another way.

“I must have lost my fucking mind” your focus reverted to the approaching Jeongguk who shoved his helmet at you harshly while walking by. You looked down at the black helmet in your hand in confusion.

Where did this come from?

You focused your attention back to Jeongguk. In one swift move he climbed on the pipe and he was at Sora’s window in no time. He turned back to look down at you “What am I supposed to be looking for?” the irritation in his voice was clear.

“Uh- its a black backpack on the bed” you tried not to smile but it was hard given that he was helping you even when he didn’t have to. It was sweet of him.

Jeongguk climbed through the window and he was quick to spot the bag. He gently lowered himself down from the window sill “what the fuck am I doing?” He sighed in disbelief as he grabbed your bag.

He climbed down the pipe and jumped with ease onto the ground. He ripped the helmet from your hands and shoved the bag in its place. Then without a word he walked towards his bike.

“Uh- J-Jeon” you called out and he stopped mid-way.

“What!?” He turned around to find you looking at him with that most pitiful face he had seen on anyone.

“You uh- forgot to uh- to close the window” you bit your lipas you watched his expression turn sour

“Fucking hell” his nostrils flared as he looked at you and back at the window.

Saviour fucking complex

“Please” you made the best puppy face you could muster.

With an annoyed grunt, he stormed towards the pipe, climbed it and in a few seconds climbed back down with so much ease your jaw was agape. As he walked past you he glared at you. You wondered if he had a thing for damsels in distress. But it didn’t matter because at least he helped you out, no matter what his deal was.

You followed behind him and he handed you the helmet.

“Wear it” he said shortly

“What about you?”

He didn’t answer and started up the bike. He brought you back to Taehyung’s place- or rather his building. You got off the bike with the backpack in your hands.

“Thank-” you were cut off by him yet again

“Don’t. Do not thank me. I’ve saved your ass twice and you better hope I don’t see you again because I am not saving you a third time” your face fell momentarily at his words

But even though his words sounded bitter it felt like they weren’t meant to be. So as he walked away from you into the building, you were left to wonder whether he was what you were looking for.

A beautiful disaster.

Maybe.

                                                        End Pt.1

A/N: Did you guys like Part 1? Let me know your thoughts down in the comments or leave me an ask or message me. I would love to talk to ya’ll :) Thank you taking the time out of your day to read it! 

P.S:Jeon’s character is like my fucking dream. 

[isakwon]

Coffee Bean Part 2

 Part 1

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Genre: Fluff with some angst

Original Gif: BlondeJongin

Summary:  It is said that the string of Fate can never be tangled, make annoying knots, or ever break. But can it be untied from one person at the end?

A/N: I know this is pretty late, this was supposed to be posted at 9 p.m. and since I went into work early, “tonight” ended up being tomorrow (today). It’s nearly 1 a.m. now, I’m listening to “The Women of Hamilton” while eating mac and cheese, ready to post this drabble. Honestly nothing satisfies me more than right now…besides sleep for my brain of course. Anyway! Please enjoy!

“Cada latido prometio, que ibas estar siempre con migo.” -Alejandro Fernandez

________

   That morning Jongin spends his time in the kitchen preparing breakfast by himself. He woke up early enough to make a traditional Korean brunch, confident from the start however midway into action he wakes Yixing up in need of his assistance. Much to his surprise, Jongin had ingredients were cluttered all atop of the counter.

  As he cleans, Yixing utters complaints through his teeth. Once the kitchen mostly cleaned up, the other gentleman greet one another the main room all in their boxers and T-shirts.

“Y/N isn’t here.” Minseok leans against the doorway sipping on a glass of juice. Sehun perks his head and ears. “But she just got here yesterday, and it’s eight a.m.”

 “I know, I just passed by the room she was sleeping in to say good morning but it was empty.”

   Y/N used to pull all nighters back in the day. Whenever the boys dropped by her condo they always find her in the same positions. Seated on her couch with a coffee and script in hand or outside admiring the sunset with just coffee.

 She loved sleep but never liked getting up before the peak of sunrise. In result for any typical night owl, her body always sprawled on her bed tangled in sheets,  wetting the pillow with fresh drool.

Kyungsoo unlocks his phone to contact her.

 She despised the sun for shining on her face through the curtains.

“She went to go see Chanyeol.” Everyone looks at Sehun whose serving food on plates. “That’s it, I bet that’s why Y/N left early. That’s the only reason.” His actions grow furiously on the rice, the clatter of bowls filling up the house. “She would rather find him than have breakfast with us after years of being overseas.”

  “Sehun, will you relax? Y/N wouldn’t be desperate enough to fly all the way here and search the whole country for one guy.”

  “Actually she did.” The boys give Baekhyun their attention hearing the bang of his mug on the table locked within strong fingers. waiting for sitting in his chair scratching the back of his ear. “She left very early while we were asleep.”

He purses his lips.

“But you were still awake to hear her leave?” Kyunsoo asks.  “No, I wasn’t awake either.” Baekhyun reminds himself of the night before, the minute before Y/N lays on the bed he held her shoulder and Y/N grabbing his fingers without turning around. ‘I had no idea’

_____

 “But you’re not mine.”

You sat at the same coffee table you and Chanyeol used to sit together. He wore a white sweater and a black hat, his ears pointed out. He gives you a smile showing a bit of his darn eye bags. The coffee cup in your hand was already half full of mocha, his didn’t move it stayed in front of you.  Chanyeol’s eyes linger the side of your face, noticing the glow flashing off your cheekbones.

  “Besides if I ever told you would it have made you panic and run?”

 Chanyeol huffs a smirk “From you Y/N, not this time.”  He lips make the shape of an upside down crescent that automatically brings a shy smile on you, your cheeks burn at the top of their bones.  “If I were to run, I wouldn’t be here asking you to say it then now would I?”

   Your hand caress atop his large hands envelope around yours. This was a huge step..

   “Can I start with the beginning? Like when I first saw you?”

  His thumb grazes yours again. “Yeah?…”

   You bit your nails, played with your hair, checked the time, and drank your coffee to calm your heart beating erratically in your chest.

  “Miss, are you waiting for someone?” You turn your head alertly to a male barista.

“Oh, actually…” You quickly scan the cafe. “I was, but I guess they forgot. Please excuse me.” You grab everything, still holding the cup. “Thank you very much uh, Lu.”

 With that you drink the last gulp of the now cold and disgustingly heavy mocha and leave the cafe with a heavy pound on your chest. You check the time again on your phone, 11:59.

  You had been there since seven in the morning, watching the street live in front of you-not much different from New York except the language of course.

 How in the world would your reunion with Chanyeol turn out? Would he even recognize you? Would you even recognize him the same? Would it be important to him?

Does he still really ‘love’ you as told last night? Would you still feel anything? If so, how is it possible?

He was your inspiration for poems. You used to dream about seeing his smile again. His sweet smile and the bags that naturally form under his eyes when he smiled. You always knew Chanyeol was adorable for a grown man, but during one of your conversations his eye bags leveled up his cuteness. You swore it made you tear up.

“Ah Chan!” You comb your hair back running your fingers through. You try clenching your jaw to avoid it, yet a pool of tears form in your eyes.

“How many memories of us are going to run through my mind? That’s all we’ve become…memories.” You swallow the suffering pain in your throat.

 “Now you probably forgot giving me your word. Most likely in love with your wife… and you probably forgot about me.”    

 ______

 He stood in the sunlight dressed in his dark violet polo shirt tucked in slim around his waist.  “No, no, no my father-in-law wants the array of breakfast pastries outside the door once he settles our meeting not before it begins.”  

He trots in the hallway gluing his ear to his phone.  “Also he says leave the cream cheese off the chive omelets and replace them with the mini crab cakes. Please do not mess this up. Thank you.”

  His father-in-law was perfectionist needing whatever he wants to meet his high standards.

  Chanyeol inserts his hands in his pockets looking around the campus out the window. Even with this two hour meeting scheduled, he would still be able to stop by that cafe ordering an Iced Americano and any bread he wanted. He doubt time would allow him to sit next to the windows to just relax and think.

  He sees the body of his father-in-law and his daughter standing at the other end of the room and he greets them, bowing his head smiling. Chanyeol was used to being without the ring most of the time he absent mindedly let his father in law spy on his hands laying them on the table.

  “Yeol, you still haven’t found your ring?”

    Chanyeol whips his eyes to his bare fingers letting his mouth hang open.

The answer escapes his lips in a stutter.

“I did sir yesterday. I placed it on table next to my side before going bed it’s still at home on my bedside table.”

“A married couple should always wear their bands on their hands. It’s a requirement not an option.” He can only make a few glances at the man in front of him, feeling the fiery eye contact brazing against him. Chanyeol lays his hands on his legs, balling his fingers in his palms.  

“Yes sir.”

“You know how much my daughter means to us. As man and wife she’d like to match everything with you starting off with rings. You’re a charming man Mr.Park.”

  Chanyeol nods, pursing his lips together. “Thank you sir.”

   The space between them is thick, Chanyeol’s hands grip the edge of his seat, shudders race under his skin

“Ladies offering their hearts to you doesn’t surprise me, unless you were married.”

He perks his head up, “I am Sir to Somil.”

    The man pushes his a mug towards his son in law.

 “Somil tells me you two haven’t had any sort of connection. Did you two have another fight?” He leans his chin against his fingers. “Is there someone secret on either side?”

  The contact burns enough scorching the pain twice as much in Chanyeol’s chest. His eyes widen at realization of the last question, “No sir, no one at all.”

  He nods. “We expect nothing but the best for my soft cloud’s marriage survive with a husband like you.” Chanyeol sharply inhales, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

“And Somil shall have it Sir.”

Those were the exact words he had given to his wife and her family the day he signed the license.

  “A smart lad since the start.Drink some water, you look like your getting your nerves up.”  

____

Later that night…

 Chanyeol looks through multiple drawers. His fingers had been without that ring for forever, it was barely ever seen. He lost his wedding band somewhere around the house months into his marriage once he removed it.

   That string he made years back never left its place, no one ever asked about it. The string with the two beads and the brightest red he saw when he pulled it out the rainbow of other yarn.

  His string he keeps around the strap of his book bag.

   The color remained as brand new in the lighting in his house it looked brand new on his finger like the very first time she tied it on him. While tying hers on her finger, he remembers the shy grin on her face as her cheeks burned, with the way her teeth sank in her bottom lip.

  Looking through the letters his shoe box, Chanyeol whips out his phone that ringed from his blazer’s pocket. His screen flashes a box on his wallpaper.

7:51 Text Message: 

Chan…

He punches the keyboard under the text bubble.

 7:51 p.m. Text Message: 

What’s up Lay?

[ravenvsfox]

Hey! If you're still taking prompts, could you write about neil and Andrew having a conversation about Neil's past? Like the stuff he had to do to survive and the stuff he went through with the worlds shittiest parents? Also I'm pretty sure neil has killed people like it makes complete sense so maybe andreil talking about that?

There’s a band of pale blue light nipping at the tops of the trees and sharpening the silhouettes of the houses, but everything else is fresh and dark. Andrew smokes with the pack clenched in his fist, the cherry of the cigarette winking at the street lamps winking at the orange moon.

Their front porch isn’t like the rush of the rooftop, but he can get that same jitter of fear from Neil nowadays, and he’s more portable. He’d left him knotted in the bedsheets an hour ago, and knowing he’s inside somewhere at his back is burning him up. Andrew inhales and focuses on the exhale, the way the smoke still tries to hurt him when it should’ve given up. He likes that nicotine doesn’t leave him alone.

Neil slips out the front door and lets the screen door clatter, and Andrew knows that he’s upset before he sits down two steps below Andrew, holding his own head.

He doesn’t ask; just smokes fervently. The moon bobs its head sympathetically, wind catches the smoke and breaks it over Neil’s head like water on rocks.

It occurs to Andrew that Neil isn’t going to start this conversation, because he likes to think things through on his own, solve them wrong, and tell Andrew about his mistakes later. He’s insufferably convinced of his own problem-solving abilities, then obsessed with the mechanism of his own missteps.

“What?” Andrew asks impatiently. He flicks ash from his cigarette and holds it out in front of Neil’s face. Neil sidles through his own tangled thinking for long enough to glance up. He leans forward and sucks the smoke from between Andrew’s fingers.

When he looks away, gusting smoke from his open mouth, he says, “Matt called. We fought.”

“You fought,” Andrew guesses.

Neil looks agitated, blue in the choked light, eyes black and furious. “He was being unfair. He keeps trying to tell me what’s right or wrong lately, because he thinks I’ve been— been deprived, like my experiences were outside of humanity, or morality, and it’s so— condescending.”

“You’re only realizing this now? All of the foxes are condescending. It is the only way they can avoid their own failure.”

“This was different,” Neil says, shaking his head. “I can tell when they’re saying things because they want to see my reaction, and this wasn’t that. He meant what he was saying.”

“And what was that?”

Neil goes gagged silent. He shifts backwards up to Andrew’s stair without looking at him, settling into the groove worn into the wood.

“That killing someone makes you a monster. That murder is the worst thing you can do to a person.”

Andrew looks at the sky and swallows until he thinks he might be able to taste injustice. It’s unforgettable from the way it was forced down his throat with a hand over his mouth for so long.

“I don’t care what Matt thinks about me.”

Neil takes Andrew’s hand, and he stares down dumbly before he realizes that Neil’s un-peeling his fingers and stealing a cigarette from the pack crushed between them. He dips a hand into Andrew’s jeans’ pocket and fishes the lighter out. It’s all distracting enough that Andrew slips and finds himself looking at the freckle under Neil’s eye for one blinking moment.

Neil doesn’t speak for almost a minute, just holds the lit cigarette by his face and breathes like he’s about to be pushed underwater.

“What about what he thinks of me?” Neil asks quietly, rhetorically. The look on his face is unquestionable. Andrew mentally pencils a variable into an old equation, and he’s unnerved to find that the solution is as obvious and sickening as most things are. There’s a shocking sadness right at the centre of his chest.

“Who did you kill, Neil Josten?”

Neil’s face crumples at the sound of his name. “I don’t know.” He smokes to distract himself, brows furrowed at the bead of light at his fingertips. “Strangers. Some fired the first shots, lots didn’t. It was a war.”

Andrew nods. He watches Neil’s body try to comfort itself, straightening then shaking, losing.

“I watched my mother kill most of them. The worst ones, probably. I think they were all dad’s, but I never knew for sure. She— it was us or them, she told me that every night. Like a bedtime story. Over and over. Us or them. Shoot or shot. Survive or don’t. My mother wasn’t a monster—“

“She beat you for opening the window of your hotel room. She watched your father put an iron to your skin without lifting a finger. She taught you to be afraid of your own body.” Andrew can hear the sickness in his own voice. He often thinks about how he would’ve enjoyed leaving Mary Hatford to burn. He would have taken Neil’s place on that beach a thousand times.

“She looked out for me the only way she could for as long as she could,” Neil argues. “She killed people to save me. Just like Aaron killed to save you, and you killed to save Aaron.”

“Never compare us to her.”

“All the people I’ve loved,” Neil soldiers on, “would choose us, and shoot, and survive.”

“But you’ve chosen shot,” Andrew says. “You’re a self-sacrificing idiot.”

“Only in moments of weakness.” Neil half smiles. “When I was on the run I would shoot and I wouldn’t wait around to see blood. I remember poisoning a man’s scotch, and mom passed him the drink so I thought— I told myself it wasn’t really me doing it. I watched him slump over and I didn’t think about it again.”

Andrew stubs his cigarette out on the porch. “We should go inside.”

“There was this woman tailing us once, and we were barely on our fourth right turn when we pulled over. My mom strangled her right there in the driver’s seat. The engine was still running. She told me to shoot her in the head ‘just in case’, but she stole her sunglasses off her face first. My dad had a lot of thugs but we made a dent in them, we definitely— we changed the lineup of his followers a few times.“ He’s looking mostly in the opposite direction but Andrew can see the incongruous smile on his face.

“Yes or no?” he asks quickly.

Neil looks back at him, smile slipping. “Yes?”

Andrew snatches his cigarette and throws it into the street, and then he drags him up off the steps by the waist. It’s impossible, watching Neil confess into the street, ripped by the cold, looking at the last of the dying sun like he wants to follow it past the horizon. He feels Neil jerk when he maneuvers them both over the lip of the stairs, and the tension wobbles but follows them inside. 

He starts asking questions but Andrew just tightens his grip, pulling him through the foyer and into the shadowed darkness of the hall. He can see the folds of curtains and the shine of Neil’s hair in the streetlights outside, but he navigates to their room by feel alone.

Neil finally breaks away just before they reach the door. “Wait, I don’t think I can just. Ignore this. I don’t know how to pretend like my past is— like it’s even something I can talk about. I don’t know how to tell Matt that you’re not a monster, because I’d have to tell him what a monster actually looks like, and it looks like my father, like me.” He stops, out of breath. Andrew steps closer, overwhelmed but clamping his reactions off at the artery. “I can’t— If I’d been in the door faster I would’ve killed Drake, no hesitation.”

“Don’t.” 

“When I think about the best things that have ever happened to me, two of the top ten are the bullets in my father’s chest. I’ve seen the things that death can ruin, and I’ve seen the things that it can make. All my father ever made was nightmares. I don’t understand how you can look at mercy and bravery and saving yourself and think monster. But I don’t know how to picture the grey matter I put on that woman’s leather seats and think anything else.” 

“Are you done?”

Neil slumps into the wall and nods like he’s being jerked on a string.

“Matt’s never had anything real taken from him,” Andrew starts, business-like, no room for argument. “He’s never watched the system fail from inside it.”

Neil looks up at him, wide-eyed. He obviously hadn’t expected a real response, and his whole demeanour switches once he realizes Andrew had been listening hard enough to form opinions.

“If you want to be a monster you can be one, but you’re not very good at it. Your father put a knife in your hand and you keep putting it down.”

“I’m���“

“Done,” Andrew interrupts pointedly. “I don’t care what Matt thinks of me because I don’t care what Matt thinks. He does not understand what it’s like to have only two options in the world. He thinks that the worst thing possible is to give up, but he doesn’t know what it is to stop fighting and keep getting kicked. He doesn’t know how dangerous it is to let abuse live.”

It’s more than he wanted to say. The truth is familiar, but he usually bites it off at the stem, keeps the rotting roots inside. It seems wrong to be here with his mouth full of honesty again, but it’s right that Neil’s on the other side of it. Columbia feels like a graveyard he was buried alive in, but Neil’s been digging him up for months now.

“He thinks you can imprison it,” Neil says, looking away. “He thinks there are ways to intervene without— without becoming the butcher.” Andrew pushes to the opposite side of the hallway from Neil, not trusting his own rage.

“He would put him in a cage with a hundred potential victims and think that the problem is solved?” The “he” has a different face for both of them and they both know it. It crawls in Andrew’s arms. It makes the dark hallway feel stripped open with something corrosive and flashbulb bright.

“Matt doesn’t know...” Neil starts.

“No,” Andrew says. “He doesn’t.”

They stare at the shape of each other until Andrew reaches a hand out. Neil takes it gratefully, moving into his space, warm and breathing hard.

“He just wants to believe in good things,” Neil says. “And he thinks I’m one of them.”

“Yes,” Andrew says, purposefully vague, and Neil drops his face down heavily, breathing into his collar.

“I’m not. And I don’t want to lie anymore,” Neil murmurs, and Andrew pulls away. He crosses quietly into their room, sensing Neil’s hesitation before he follows.

They change in silence: a poorly wrapped, oozing thing after the unresolved conversation they just had. Andrew flips on the ensuite bathroom light and blinks in it, eyes burning. Sometimes he avoids his reflection to see how difficult things become, like he can understand Neil by putting on his problems.

When he glances back out into the room Neil is sitting shirtless on the side of the bed, half of him in shadow and half of him in borrowed light. He watches Andrew brush his teeth, and Andrew watches the jumble of scars that Neil got from the sort of people who don’t wonder about right and wrong on the phone with their best friend.

He walks all the way up to him, between his thighs, and tilts Neil’s head back by the neck. He looks up at him, jaw tense enough to crack, hands clenched on his own thighs.

“I could kill Boyd and solve this problem,” Andrew suggests.

Neil snorts, relaxing, but Andrew’s hands keep him from ducking his head.

“Pass.”

“Lie down,” Andrew urges him, but Neil holds his gaze, unimpressed.

“My issues will still be here in the morning.”

Andrew pushes his shoulders and follows him down. “I can ignore them better if I’m asleep.”

They jostle their way under the covers. Andrew breathes in through his nose and tugs on Neil’s arm until his body is pressed up behind him, bare chest tucked around Andrew’s back. He only exhales when he’s acclimated to the diluted panic that swarms and tries to set off alarm bells he’s already disarmed.

Neil stiffens behind him, and the strangeness of his wooden reluctance is enough to settle his stomach a little.

“Andrew?” Neil whispers. His hand is open, flexed away from Andrew’s front.

Andrew tightens Neil’s arm around his waist like a seatbelt until his fingers relax. The warmth at his back has jagged scars that Andrew can feel and bangs brushing the base of his neck. Everything smells like the cheap blue bar soap they have in the bathroom.

His eyes are on the door to the hall, but Neil’s got his back, and Andrew almost feels like he’s in goal, keeping the thing he’s trying to protect behind him.

Feeling Neil settle, feeling the switch from being close to being held, is the strangest feedback loop of protecting and protection.

When they roll apart in the night, Andrew pulls him close without thinking. (Whatever monsters they had been, they aren’t in this bed.)

[ginnyzero]

Completely Harmless Ch. 27

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

WOW, somehow not in queue properly. Oops.

Chapter Twenty-Seven Planning Rainbow Week Pt. 2

“Okay, Ingrid,” Lily moved on hurriedly. “Plans for Firgrove.”

“Andy is opening up his petting zoo at the sandpit. We have the Red String Ride. So, we’ve decided to use the Friendship Knot as our charm. We have a big field area with a hill. Perhaps, Mr. Wetton could set up his talent scouting show there? We can put out extra balloons and create a backdrop if necessary.”

Lily nodded. “Okay, I think that’s the best. People are going to want to come and see the new talent and I don’t know, we can advertise it as a picnic thing? Maybe have the fireworks and those paper lanterns nearby?”

Everyone agreed that sounded like a good plan.

Violet picked off where Ingrid left off. “We’re also opening the flea market in the village. We’re going to show them how to make big friendship knots. Big enough for wall art out of silky ropes. And Ma Anna’s doing an Italian Rainbow cookie, it looks more like a layered cake with chocolate to me. Andy’s grandmother is doing a rainbow pancake cake. So, that should be delicious. Actually, she’s doing two, one with a heart in the middle and one plain rainbow.” Violet shrugged.

Pia looked panicked. “Are we doing treats? Our cafe relies on Harold for treats.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can have him do something with what he’s got going already,” Kate jumped in to reassure her.

“As long as it’s not cardamom,” Pia shuddered.

“Got it,” Kate said. “I mean, he’s doing these freeze and bake things. There has to be a different way to do it. I’ll get right on him.”

Pia relaxed. “All right. Sorry Lily, moving on.”

Pauline nudged Lily, “better plan something for Moorland too,” she muttered.

Lily glowered at her. Pauline made a note.

They turned to Melissa.

Melissa made a face. “One, our waterfall is still green.”

“It’s your club color, pretend it’s deliberate for now,” Lily said.

Melissa grimaced. “Can you get the Baroness to come out and look?”

“We need to find the Count or Countess,” Riley huffed. “You can’t have a county without them!”

There were some scoffs around the table.

“We can’t make them care,” Lily said.

“If we can get enough attention out here that’s positive, they’ll start paying attention and be horrified that their area isn’t in tip top shape,” Amelia said.

“Or not,” Ingrid grimaced. “If we can get attention without their help, why would they need to do anything?”

“Okay, what do you want to do?” Lily asked.

“We have a lot of roses, so we were going to make rose crowns for our craft. We’ve got yellow.”

“Oh good, because we don’t,” Lily mumbled.

Brooke spoke up. “It’s tied into our treat, our baker is going to do funfetti cupcakes and pipe rainbow roses on them, like individual petals. She’s nuts!” She lifted her hands up in the air.

“We’re using the crossed arrows and a star for a charm,” Melissa said. “And we thought about doing a special orienteering race or trail in the forest. We’re decorating the lake trail and are going to advertise it as a ‘love trail.’ It would be better in a boat, but we’ve got what we’ve got. We have beach picnic areas if that helps at all.”

“We had that thought too about orienteering,” Sonja said. “Granted, Mistfall is very little but riding trails being it’s a designated Jorvik National Park.”

“I think some folk music would go over nicely, if there is any to be found.” Melissa shrugged. “Druids.”

Lily twisted to look at Luciana, “Okay, Dundull, what are your plans?”

“We are so far out of the way,” Sonja murmured.

“Get a ferry going to Dundull,” Lily murmured and added it to the list. This list was getting strange and very political.

“And New Hillcrest,” Ginny added. “I think that is a big part of our problem, it’s difficult to get to us.”

“Kit has her Cuddle Cottage, where you can come and cuddle the animals. She keeps foxes.”

“Because fox babies are called kits,” Lily murmured.

“You are the weirdest trove of information,” Pauline wrinkled her nose.

“Okay, I like crime procedurals and cozy mystery novels, is that a crime?”

“Nooo,” Pauline leaned away from her.

“I mean,” Luciana said. “We’re lots of pretty forest and a big lake.”

“No fishing. No swimming. No boats,” Sonja said.

“I don’t know what we can do,” Luciana bit her lip. “That’s not what everyone else is doing.”

Helen bounced in her seat. “You’re a National Park right? I mean, what do you do in National Parks?”

They all looked at her.

“You go camping. So, okay, you get one of the musicians that’s folk. You advertise that you’re doing a bonfire cook out. Do things on the hour. Have sausages on a stick and s’mores. You can decorate the forest on the way to and from the bonfire. Maybe do a night time ride around the lake when the lightning bugs are out. No one else is doing a night time thing other than fireworks.”

Lily’s phone buzzed. She picked it up. “Mr. Wetton. Really? I understand.” She reached over to Pauline’s notes and scratched out Raptor and DJ Wetfloor. “How does Firgrove for your talent show sound? They have a hill with a big field in front of it. That’s great. We need two,” she trailed off as Kelsey waved to get her attention and held up 3 fingers. “Three folk musicians.”

Kelsey wrote something down and held it up.

“If one is a Celtic group, that’d be great. The moors on South Hoof are big and can carry the sound beautifully. We also need someone for Valedale, and someone to serenade campers in Dundull at a sausage roast.”

Brooke leaned in. “There’s a broken down house in Valedale that if we clean it up, it’d be a great place for a musician.”

“A ruined house for a stage for Valedale, we can make it atmospheric,” Lily said. “You know just the people. A Harpist, really? You are amazing, Mr. Wetton.”

Riley spoke up. “We’ll take the Flaming Trio, since I’m sure New Hillcrest will want to host Syntax.”

Ginny relaxed. “Thanks, Riley.”

“Cape West will take the Flaming Trio. They’ll scout locations, though, I’m sure the Golden Hills Forest would be perfect. Syntax can appear in New Hillcrest, they’ve got the large market square after all. And then, Jarlaheim wants The Miscreants. There’s a theatre, one moment,” Lily put her hand over the phone. “Amelia, what in hell is Talia doing for Rainbow Week?”

“Hopefully not staging Romeo and Juliet,” Amelia flinched. “Her stage isn’t nearly big enough for the Miscreants. We have that town square and garden area. They can use that.”

“Point,” Lily said. “The Miscreants can perform in the Garden in Jarlaheim and DJ Kai can have the Fort Pinta Disco to herself. Do Lance and Lilith have a name? They can play in Silverglade where they’ll be centrally located. Lilith’s Lance? Really? Well, um, I didn’t know Lilith had a lance. Not relevant Mr. Wetton. That leaves us one short for the Stormgarden.”

Luciana waved her hand again. “Charity concert at the Dew’s Farm,” she said. “All proceeds going to help the Dew family. We’d be squatting.”

“And this is me not caring,” Lily said. “Have you heard about the plight of the Dew Family, Mr. Wetton? The G.E.D., you heard. You’re one of the corporate backers. We thought a charity concert. You think Raptor would get out for that. Well, that is the power of good publicity.”

Mr. Wetton was talking.

“An Asian girl group idol pop band? That sounds perfect for the Stormgarden. Oh, that’s why, well, definitely the best for last then. Thank you.” Lily blinked and hung up. “So, Ami, you have a pop group called Filly, he spelled it f-i-l dash l-e, so I’m assuming it’s not only a pun on filly but a pun on French for girl as well.”

Ami groaned.

“But they can play at the Stormgarden.”

“We have a maple grove, we can set them up in there,” Ami nodded.

“Okay, so, Dundull is having a camp out and doing a night time ride around the lake,” Lily said.

“We have a lot of birds, so we were going to use a dove for our charm,” Luciana said. “I don’t know about treats.”

“No one is doing iced biscuits so far,” Pauline said. “Sorry, cookies.”

“Biscuits, are you British all of a sudden?” One of the girls demanded.

“No.” Pauline rolled her eyes. “It slipped out. Iced cookies.”

“Anyone?” Luciana looked around.

They all shook their heads.

Luciana nodded. “Then we’ll talk to our baker about doing iced sugar cookies.”

Sonja twisted her hair around her finger. “Braided headbands, with feathers? Face painting?”

“Those are great ideas,” Lily encouraged her.

Sonja relaxed.

Lily bit her lip. “Okay, we’re hosting the Silversong String Quartet and having a grand opening of the restaurant, ice cream bar, and the gardens. Aaron has designed a special friendship rainbow sherbet Sunday with a sugar cookie that has a rainbow heart in the middle and a white chocolate rose decoration. We’re doing our rose garden trail ride and at the pavilion in the middle, we’re setting up to make old fashioned bead headbands. We’re using a rose for our charm. Riley!”

Riley laughed. “All right, we’re hosting the Flaming Trio now. The Smugglers are helping us set up a treasure hunt where the reward is a crystal sun catcher. We’re going to have others for sale too. But the one for the treasure hunt is special. We’re also going to have supplies to make earrings out of jewelry crystal versions. Going with the crystal theme, we’re doing a rainbow layer gelatin dessert cut into shapes. Captain Brus is refusing to let us near his ship but he has conceded to decorate it. He hates Rainbow Week so I think his sailors bullied him into it. And we’re saving the Light Ride for Happy Horse Week.”

“Fair,” Lily nodded.

Pauline grimaced. “More than fair.”

“We’ve set up the treasure hunt all in that area though,” Riley smirked. “It goes from the Labyrinth area, all the way up towards the King’s Road using the stables as the middle ground. It goes with our charm of a coin with a heart cut out of it.”

“Oh, wow, sneaky,” one of the girls breathed. No one was sure if she meant the treasure hunt or the charm. No one dared ask either.

“We had to nix using cookie crumbs though. Too easily eaten by birds,” Riley rolled her eyes. “Really, right now we’re in the same boat as Ginny is, I think. We don’t have a lot to draw people to Cape West. There are a bunch of shops but none of them ever seem busy.”

“Maybe it’s time for some consolidation,” Pia nodded.

“I think,” Riley leaned back and glanced at Ginny. “I don’t know if this is your problem, but, Cape West lacks a brand, a definitive identity.”

“So, if it was a jolly sailor town,” one of the girls trailed off.

“Right. I mean, the Stormgarden is doing an Asian themed Spa complete with oil pulling, hot stone massage, and chiming bowls or acupuncture and Chinese Fusion,” Riley waved her hands.

Ami grinned. “We are.”

“New Hillcrest is a ‘planned’ town,” Ginny rubbed her forehead. “Except no one seemed to include the stables in the plans. Again, like Cape West, we’re mostly fishermen. We’ve got the Mirror Marsh, a bunch of windswept islands, and the Cauldron. Both the observatory and Fort Maria are closed. Plus, Mrs. X has set up shop in the Observatory since it’s so close to G.E.D. and Old Hillcrest.”

“No news about Old Hillcrest then.”

“Whatever it is, it’s bad,” Ginny whispered. “We haven’t heard anything from them for weeks, and the G.E.D. keeps turning everyone away. There’s a haze around the area.”

Brooke fiddled with a pen. “The G.E.D. has been drilling, right? I mean, that’s what Dark Core and G.E.D. have in common. They’ve been drilling. What if they drilled too deep?”

“Like, the Mines of Moira,” one of the girls said.

“I got that reference,” Luciana brightened.

“Okay, Mr. Kemball never had the proper permits for anything.” Lily glanced over at Ingrid.

“We’re looking into it, ja. We think he’s squatting.” Ingrid smirked. “He’ll be gone before the festival.”

“Ms. Drake seems the type to cross her ts and dot her eyes,” Amelia said.

“Are you sure? Or does she come off that way so you don’t ask questions,” Lily lowered her voice. “You can’t have Herman dig into it. He’ll go off half-cocked. Syntax and this secret organization of his.”

“CHILL,” Susan said. “It’s called CHILL.” She rolled her eyes.

“Theirs,” Ginny corrected absently. “They’re non-binary.”

“Theirs,” Lily corrected herself. “Thank you, Ginny. They’re a hacker, right? Have them look into it? Or have them do it. Give them a challenge. Or say we’ll find someone else if they can’t be useful.”

“Ricky is still pretty hung up on getting enough money to save the stables from his boxing match.”

“I wouldn’t rely on it.”

Ginny licked her lips. “My family is moving to Beauvista soon. I’m leaving Susan in charge.”

“I’m sorry, Ginny. It must hurt to leave the club.”

Ginny shrugged. “I’ll be here past Happy Horse Week. I can help by befriending Mr. Kemball’s daughter too.”

“I’ll make sure the club stays together,” Susan said fervently.

“I believe you, Su,” Ginny smiled at her.

Susan nodded. “I think Riley’s right though. The stable doesn’t have its own identity. The town is so bland. It’s not like Crescent Moon Village or anything where we could at least take advantage of the imagery.”

“Hold up,” Josefina said, she was Amelia’s vice president. “Friesians are an identity. That’s what your main sell stable has, right? Those are exclusive horses. You have to have a license to even breed them. Like Frederick the Great has been dubbed the world’s handsomest horse. And like, if you have any chestnuts, those are super rare. They’re dressage horses.”

“We don’t have,” Ginny trailed off.

Josefina smirked. “You just thought of something.”

“Mr. Kemball wants to buy his daughter’s way into the club. He could build us an arena,” Ginny smirked back.

“People love seeing Friesians as a group in herds and the babies,” Josefina bit her lip. “Start a J-Tube channel, get on Friend-Fund, and offer early exclusive content for people who sign up.”

Riley sighed. “And we stick with our jolly sailor town?”

“That isn’t a half bad identity, you know,” Amelia raised her brow. “Though your colors are wrong.”

“You took the navy,” Riley retorted. “And do you know how fond they are of being ‘golden.’ There’s no way that we’re getting a cool color when that’s their take on it. And Kate has yellow! As does Pia!”

“Girls,” Lily broke in. They were getting a bit off track.

“Actually, a sailor town isn’t a bad idea. We can go with the pirate theme and,” Riley drummed her fingers on the table. “The issue being not appropriating other cultures.”

“Canterella then?” Luciana asked. “It’s old fashioned.”

“But at the same time, perfect?” Riley grinned. “I don’t know what Anastasia has in mind for our new outfits.”

“Well, a Canterella outfit would be a costume and extra, I think,” Lily said. “Is that the stuff at the Purple Pony?”

“Along with the Knights of Unistria and some Mermaid stuff.”

“Ohh, mermaids,” Riley said. “This, oh, idea,” she grinned and scribbled something down. “Okay, but yeah, we think the treasure hunt should take enough time that we don’t need much more than that for our area.”

Sonja muttered. “If we could get to Firfall they have a Medieval Faire with an archery competition.”

“The road’s blocked,” Luciana said.

“I’m thinking some moltov cocktails,” Sonja rubbed her hands.

Everyone glared at her.

“Oh fine,” Sonja slumped.

“Amelia, over to Jorvik Stables,” Lily said.

“Okay, so, um, no one is very worried about Evelyn, outside of Jill and us. Jack is useless. There are a ton of shops empty, but the shops there aren’t that amazing either and should be combined. Though the two hair salons can’t be. There’s two themes. Eventing style elegance, and the rock star stuff.” Amelia shrugged. “It’s a town so it’s big enough for both. For the event, we’re running a special group race. And in the arena we’re having a special show jumping race. Lowe Westburg runs both of them. She gives out prizes. Catherine is doing her special cake. And the Miscreants are playing in the garden.” She pronounced Lowe as Lou-ve.

“Have you talked to Herman about the Riding Arena yet?”

“He refuses to open it. Absolutely refuses,” Amelia rolled her eyes.

Josefina huffed. “We told him we’ll keep the doors open and not go in at night.”

“We’re using a pair of swans that make a heart for our charm,” Amelia shrugged.

“It seemed obvious,” Josefina smirked.

“Is that enough for that area, you think?”

“Two races, on top of everything else you can do during the week?” Lily widened her eyes.

“What about wrist cuffs?” Violet, Ingrid’s Vice President in Firgrove, asked.

“Wrist cuffs?”

“For a craft,” Violet defended. “Look, okay you say you’ve got two looks, elegant and rock. Elegant is pretty covered by the Winery, who should probably also be doing bead bracelets and stud and dangling earrings.”

“Noted,” Pauline said with a grin.

“Then, that leaves you with the rock stuff. Bandanas aren’t really a craft thing. So, that leaves leather wrist cuffs and chokers and headbands. Do a leather Siwa bow. Have some awesome looking heart and rose and the other symbols as metal studs and don’t they come in all colors now with electroplating? Then what you do is take your shops, get them down to four between the tack shops and the clothing shops. Then beg the Miscreants to set up a shop there for their swag, or do a combined band swag shop.”

The girls were all nodding.

“Don’t you have that donut shop too, with Lisbeth,” Ginny said, her eyes glazing over. “I love her donuts. She could do tons of rainbow ones.”

“Okay, I think that’s covered then,” Lily said. “Onward to you, Ami.”

“We’re like you, doing our grand opening.”

“Pretty hanfu inspired dresses and Chinese Fusion,” Lily said remembering Anastasia’s complaints.

There were giggles.

Ami tilted her head. “We’re using a frog for our symbol. It’s a Chinese animal for good fortune, and the kanji for friend. We though to do some origami for our crafts. Origami earrings and stuff you can add to headbands.”

“Right, and you have the pop group.”

“The bottom of the Cauldron can be pretty, so we thought we’d do a ride to the bottom, have something there and lead them back up. We aren’t sure on what yet.”

“Make it surprise.”

“Tea ceremony,” said someone else.

“Is that okay?” Ami looked over at Ginny.

“The best way down into the Cauldron is closer to you than it is to us. We’ve got a ride planned through the Mirror Marsh.”

“Bring lots of bug repellant.”

“And maybe Frida will show up with her frogs,” Ginny added.

“We’re also giving away rainbow themed fortune cookies,” Ami waved her hands. “Because, fortunes!”

The girls all laughed. Even Loretta cracked a smile.

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.

[nicklesthename]

If you’re like me, then decorating for Christmas is its own ritual. You have a movie you watch every year while you do it, or music that always plays. There’s a specific order in which you put things up, and you will do it in that order no matter what. Everything has it’s place and it goes in that place every year since you can remember. Even if your parents change their home, or you now live on your own, there is a place for everything. For me Christmas decorations are sacred. They are the beginning of my favourite season which holds my favourite holiday. It means baking and gift wrapping and strings of lights and fuzzy blankets and socks. And it all begins with a bit of garland and some glittery baubles.

So when I moved out and into university residence, my first November December was a little depressing. I knew I had helped my mom decorate our old tree and that I would be going home in a couple weeks to be surrounded by it, but I needed it’s comfort now! Exams were looming and final projects were already due. But I was also living on OSAP exclusively and didn’t exactly have all the money in the world to spend on a brand new tree or boughs of holly. But I still wanted to deck my halls, dammit! So here is how I did it.

Paper Snowflakes

This is the truest classic of all Christmas decorations. It’s the first type of decoration that anyone makes for themselves, and that’s because it’s extremely simple and requires exactly two ingredients: paper and scissors. Paper snowflakes were a solid 45% of my dorm room’s decorating. I hung them in the windows, taped them to the cabinets, and attached them to the front door. I made ones with random details and many triangles, but I also managed to make some with discernible Christmas trees, ribbons, and holly leaves. Either way, they are such an easy and dirt cheap way to brighten up your room. It’s also sort of therapeutic: folding up the paper, planning the pattern, carefully cutting out the pieces, and then unfolding them to see what happened. I found it helped when all the studying I had to do got to be a bit too much.

More Paper!

Cut up strips of paper, tape them in circles intertwining each other, and then you have a paper garland! Cut it into thin strips and curl them over a scissors edge to simulate ribbons. Use it to wrap your presents and colour in your own pattern. Tape some over the covers of your notebooks and planner and draw some Christmas decorations on it. Cut out letters and spell Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays on the wall. All you need is paper, something to write with, and scissors. If you want to get really fancy, markers, glitter, and coloured paper will up your game, but you don’t need them to brighten up your room!

  Thrift Stores

I don’t think I will ever stop singing the praises of thrift stores. I love them for a million reasons, but one of those reasons is they are teeming with Christmas decorations! All year round they have figurines, stuffed animals, baubles, garland, and even lights. It can be a bit risky to buy electronics from a thrift store, since almost all of them have a “as is” rule, which means you can’t return it no matter what. However, many also have an electronic testing area you can test them out at. I actually still have the Christmas lights I bought from Value Village in my first year of university five years ago. I bought them in a value pack that even came with a small bag of replacement bulbs. I think that for three strings of lights and the replacement bulbs, it was $3. I also got another value pack will strings of beads and some candles for a similar price. Personally, I prefer old, kitschy decorations to new, chic ones, so the thrift store is perfect for finding those classics.

Recycle!

One of the best tips would be to raid your parents house for all the old Christmas stuff they don’t like or see a purpose for, but don’t want to throw out. An absolute treasure trove of this is Christmas cards. You’re parents probably have a huge box of them somewhere collecting dust. You can cut them into different shapes, just use the cover, or even hang them up on the fridge like you’ve just received them. Also, chances are all the writing is in the right side of the inside of the card, so you could cut off the front, write on the back and reuse it as a new gift tag. Another common ones is Christmas bows. I have an aunt who LOVES collecting these bows. She reuses them every year on her presents and honestly? It just makes sense. Wrapping paper and tissue paper can easily get ripped or too wrinkled, but the bows are almost always untouched. And until you actually wrap your presents, you could stick them to your walls, hang them in the windows, or tie them into your Christmas tree. Wrapping paper can be spread on tables like a cloth or you can pretend to wrap your refrigerator. Old Christmas VHS tapes can be put back out on shelves. Knotted tinsel can be taped inside lamp shades, low enough to dangle out. Put a Santa hat on your office chair. Get creative!

These are some pretty basic tips, but I hope they helped or inspired some of you! Really all you need is some Christmas spirit, and the rest will follow. I love making homemade decorations, and being creative can help stimulate your mind and relax you during a very stressful time for students. I hope you have a wonderful holiday season!

    PIN ME:

  Christmas Decorating For Students If you're like me, then decorating for Christmas is its own ritual. You have a movie you watch every year while you do it, or music that always plays.

[ginnyzero]

Completely Harmless Ch. 27

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter Twenty-Seven Planning Rainbow Week Pt. 2

“Okay, Ingrid,” Lily moved on hurriedly. “Plans for Firgrove.”

“Andy is opening up his petting zoo at the sandpit. We have the Red String Ride. So, we’ve decided to use the Friendship Knot as our charm. We have a big field area with a hill. Perhaps, Mr. Wetton could set up his talent scouting show there? We can put out extra balloons and create a backdrop if necessary.”

Lily nodded. “Okay, I think that’s the best. People are going to want to come and see the new talent and I don’t know, we can advertise it as a picnic thing? Maybe have the fireworks and those paper lanterns nearby?”

Everyone agreed that sounded like a good plan.

Violet picked off where Ingrid left off. “We’re also opening the flea market in the village. We’re going to show them how to make big friendship knots. Big enough for wall art out of silky ropes. And Ma Anna’s doing an Italian Rainbow cookie, it looks more like a layered cake with chocolate to me. Andy’s grandmother is doing a rainbow pancake cake. So, that should be delicious. Actually, she’s doing two, one with a heart in the middle and one plain rainbow.” Violet shrugged.

Pia looked panicked. “Are we doing treats? Our cafe relies on Harold for treats.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can have him do something with what he’s got going already,” Kate jumped in to reassure her.

“As long as it’s not cardamom,” Pia shuddered.

“Got it,” Kate said. “I mean, he’s doing these freeze and bake things. There has to be a different way to do it. I’ll get right on him.”

Pia relaxed. “All right. Sorry Lily, moving on.”

Pauline nudged Lily, “better plan something for Moorland too,” she muttered.

Lily glowered at her. Pauline made a note.

They turned to Melissa.

Melissa made a face. “One, our waterfall is still green.”

“It’s your club color, pretend it’s deliberate for now,” Lily said.

Melissa grimaced. “Can you get the Baroness to come out and look?”

“We need to find the Count or Countess,” Riley huffed. “You can’t have a county without them!”

There were some scoffs around the table.

“We can’t make them care,” Lily said.

“If we can get enough attention out here that’s positive, they’ll start paying attention and be horrified that their area isn’t in tip top shape,” Amelia said.

“Or not,” Ingrid grimaced. “If we can get attention without their help, why would they need to do anything?”

“Okay, what do you want to do?” Lily asked.

“We have a lot of roses, so we were going to make rose crowns for our craft. We’ve got yellow.”

“Oh good, because we don’t,” Lily mumbled.

Brooke spoke up. “It’s tied into our treat, our baker is going to do funfetti cupcakes and pipe rainbow roses on them, like individual petals. She’s nuts!” She lifted her hands up in the air.

“We’re using the crossed arrows and a star for a charm,” Melissa said. “And we thought about doing a special orienteering race or trail in the forest. We’re decorating the lake trail and are going to advertise it as a ‘love trail.’ It would be better in a boat, but we’ve got what we’ve got. We have beach picnic areas if that helps at all.”

“We had that thought too about orienteering,” Sonja said. “Granted, Mistfall is very little but riding trails being it’s a designated Jorvik National Park.”

“I think some folk music would go over nicely, if there is any to be found.” Melissa shrugged. “Druids.”

Lily twisted to look at Luciana, “Okay, Dundull, what are your plans?”

“We are so far out of the way,” Sonja murmured.

“Get a ferry going to Dundull,” Lily murmured and added it to the list. This list was getting strange and very political.

“And New Hillcrest,” Ginny added. “I think that is a big part of our problem, it’s difficult to get to us.”

“Kit has her Cuddle Cottage, where you can come and cuddle the animals. She keeps foxes.”

“Because fox babies are called kits,” Lily murmured.

“You are the weirdest trove of information,” Pauline wrinkled her nose.

“Okay, I like crime procedurals and cozy mystery novels, is that a crime?”

“Nooo,” Pauline leaned away from her.

“I mean,” Luciana said. “We’re lots of pretty forest and a big lake.”

“No fishing. No swimming. No boats,” Sonja said.

“I don’t know what we can do,” Luciana bit her lip. “That’s not what everyone else is doing.”

Helen bounced in her seat. “You’re a National Park right? I mean, what do you do in National Parks?”

They all looked at her.

“You go camping. So, okay, you get one of the musicians that’s folk. You advertise that you’re doing a bonfire cook out. Do things on the hour. Have sausages on a stick and s’mores. You can decorate the forest on the way to and from the bonfire. Maybe do a night time ride around the lake when the lightning bugs are out. No one else is doing a night time thing other than fireworks.”

Lily’s phone buzzed. She picked it up. “Mr. Wetton. Really? I understand.” She reached over to Pauline’s notes and scratched out Raptor and DJ Wetfloor. “How does Firgrove for your talent show sound? They have a hill with a big field in front of it. That’s great. We need two,” she trailed off as Kelsey waved to get her attention and held up 3 fingers. “Three folk musicians.”

Kelsey wrote something down and held it up.

“If one is a Celtic group, that’d be great. The moors on South Hoof are big and can carry the sound beautifully. We also need someone for Valedale, and someone to serenade campers in Dundull at a sausage roast.”

Brooke leaned in. “There’s a broken down house in Valedale that if we clean it up, it’d be a great place for a musician.”

“A ruined house for a stage for Valedale, we can make it atmospheric,” Lily said. “You know just the people. A Harpist, really? You are amazing, Mr. Wetton.”

Riley spoke up. “We’ll take the Flaming Trio, since I’m sure New Hillcrest will want to host Syntax.”

Ginny relaxed. “Thanks, Riley.”

“Cape West will take the Flaming Trio. They’ll scout locations, though, I’m sure the Golden Hills Forest would be perfect. Syntax can appear in New Hillcrest, they’ve got the large market square after all. And then, Jarlaheim wants The Miscreants. There’s a theatre, one moment,” Lily put her hand over the phone. “Amelia, what in hell is Talia doing for Rainbow Week?”

“Hopefully not staging Romeo and Juliet,” Amelia flinched. “Her stage isn’t nearly big enough for the Miscreants. We have that town square and garden area. They can use that.”

“Point,” Lily said. “The Miscreants can perform in the Garden in Jarlaheim and DJ Kai can have the Fort Pinta Disco to herself. Do Lance and Lilith have a name? They can play in Silverglade where they’ll be centrally located. Lilith’s Lance? Really? Well, um, I didn’t know Lilith had a lance. Not relevant Mr. Wetton. That leaves us one short for the Stormgarden.”

Luciana waved her hand again. “Charity concert at the Dew’s Farm,” she said. “All proceeds going to help the Dew family. We’d be squatting.”

“And this is me not caring,” Lily said. “Have you heard about the plight of the Dew Family, Mr. Wetton? The G.E.D., you heard. You’re one of the corporate backers. We thought a charity concert. You think Raptor would get out for that. Well, that is the power of good publicity.”

Mr. Wetton was talking.

“An Asian girl group idol pop band? That sounds perfect for the Stormgarden. Oh, that’s why, well, definitely the best for last then. Thank you.” Lily blinked and hung up. “So, Ami, you have a pop group called Filly, he spelled it f-i-l dash l-e, so I’m assuming it’s not only a pun on filly but a pun on French for girl as well.”

Ami groaned.

“But they can play at the Stormgarden.”

“We have a maple grove, we can set them up in there,” Ami nodded.

“Okay, so, Dundull is having a camp out and doing a night time ride around the lake,” Lily said.

“We have a lot of birds, so we were going to use a dove for our charm,” Luciana said. “I don’t know about treats.”

“No one is doing iced biscuits so far,” Pauline said. “Sorry, cookies.”

“Biscuits, are you British all of a sudden?” One of the girls demanded.

“No.” Pauline rolled her eyes. “It slipped out. Iced cookies.”

“Anyone?” Luciana looked around.

They all shook their heads.

Luciana nodded. “Then we’ll talk to our baker about doing iced sugar cookies.”

Sonja twisted her hair around her finger. “Braided headbands, with feathers? Face painting?”

“Those are great ideas,” Lily encouraged her.

Sonja relaxed.

Lily bit her lip. “Okay, we’re hosting the Silversong String Quartet and having a grand opening of the restaurant, ice cream bar, and the gardens. Aaron has designed a special friendship rainbow sherbet Sunday with a sugar cookie that has a rainbow heart in the middle and a white chocolate rose decoration. We’re doing our rose garden trail ride and at the pavilion in the middle, we’re setting up to make old fashioned bead headbands. We’re using a rose for our charm. Riley!”

Riley laughed. “All right, we’re hosting the Flaming Trio now. The Smugglers are helping us set up a treasure hunt where the reward is a crystal sun catcher. We’re going to have others for sale too. But the one for the treasure hunt is special. We’re also going to have supplies to make earrings out of jewelry crystal versions. Going with the crystal theme, we’re doing a rainbow layer gelatin dessert cut into shapes. Captain Brus is refusing to let us near his ship but he has conceded to decorate it. He hates Rainbow Week so I think his sailors bullied him into it. And we’re saving the Light Ride for Happy Horse Week.”

“Fair,” Lily nodded.

Pauline grimaced. “More than fair.”

“We’ve set up the treasure hunt all in that area though,” Riley smirked. “It goes from the Labyrinth area, all the way up towards the King’s Road using the stables as the middle ground. It goes with our charm of a coin with a heart cut out of it.”

“Oh, wow, sneaky,” one of the girls breathed. No one was sure if she meant the treasure hunt or the charm. No one dared ask either.

“We had to nix using cookie crumbs though. Too easily eaten by birds,” Riley rolled her eyes. “Really, right now we’re in the same boat as Ginny is, I think. We don’t have a lot to draw people to Cape West. There are a bunch of shops but none of them ever seem busy.”

“Maybe it’s time for some consolidation,” Pia nodded.

“I think,” Riley leaned back and glanced at Ginny. “I don’t know if this is your problem, but, Cape West lacks a brand, a definitive identity.”

“So, if it was a jolly sailor town,” one of the girls trailed off.

“Right. I mean, the Stormgarden is doing an Asian themed Spa complete with oil pulling, hot stone massage, and chiming bowls or acupuncture and Chinese Fusion,” Riley waved her hands.

Ami grinned. “We are.”

“New Hillcrest is a ‘planned’ town,” Ginny rubbed her forehead. “Except no one seemed to include the stables in the plans. Again, like Cape West, we’re mostly fishermen. We’ve got the Mirror Marsh, a bunch of windswept islands, and the Cauldron. Both the observatory and Fort Maria are closed. Plus, Mrs. X has set up shop in the Observatory since it’s so close to G.E.D. and Old Hillcrest.”

“No news about Old Hillcrest then.”

“Whatever it is, it’s bad,” Ginny whispered. “We haven’t heard anything from them for weeks, and the G.E.D. keeps turning everyone away. There’s a haze around the area.”

Brooke fiddled with a pen. “The G.E.D. has been drilling, right? I mean, that’s what Dark Core and G.E.D. have in common. They’ve been drilling. What if they drilled too deep?”

“Like, the Mines of Moira,” one of the girls said.

“I got that reference,” Luciana brightened.

“Okay, Mr. Kemball never had the proper permits for anything.” Lily glanced over at Ingrid.

“We’re looking into it, ja. We think he’s squatting.” Ingrid smirked. “He’ll be gone before the festival.”

“Ms. Drake seems the type to cross her ts and dot her eyes,” Amelia said.

“Are you sure? Or does she come off that way so you don’t ask questions,” Lily lowered her voice. “You can’t have Herman dig into it. He’ll go off half-cocked. Syntax and this secret organization of his.”

“CHILL,” Susan said. “It’s called CHILL.” She rolled her eyes.

“Theirs,” Ginny corrected absently. “They’re non-binary.”

“Theirs,” Lily corrected herself. “Thank you, Ginny. They’re a hacker, right? Have them look into it? Or have them do it. Give them a challenge. Or say we’ll find someone else if they can’t be useful.”

“Ricky is still pretty hung up on getting enough money to save the stables from his boxing match.”

“I wouldn’t rely on it.”

Ginny licked her lips. “My family is moving to Beauvista soon. I’m leaving Susan in charge.”

“I’m sorry, Ginny. It must hurt to leave the club.”

Ginny shrugged. “I’ll be here past Happy Horse Week. I can help by befriending Mr. Kemball’s daughter too.”

“I’ll make sure the club stays together,” Susan said fervently.

“I believe you, Su,” Ginny smiled at her.

Susan nodded. “I think Riley’s right though. The stable doesn’t have its own identity. The town is so bland. It’s not like Crescent Moon Village or anything where we could at least take advantage of the imagery.”

“Hold up,” Josefina said, she was Amelia’s vice president. “Friesians are an identity. That’s what your main sell stable has, right? Those are exclusive horses. You have to have a license to even breed them. Like Frederick the Great has been dubbed the world’s handsomest horse. And like, if you have any chestnuts, those are super rare. They’re dressage horses.”

“We don’t have,” Ginny trailed off.

Josefina smirked. “You just thought of something.”

“Mr. Kemball wants to buy his daughter’s way into the club. He could build us an arena,” Ginny smirked back.

“People love seeing Friesians as a group in herds and the babies,” Josefina bit her lip. “Start a J-Tube channel, get on Friend-Fund, and offer early exclusive content for people who sign up.”

Riley sighed. “And we stick with our jolly sailor town?”

“That isn’t a half bad identity, you know,” Amelia raised her brow. “Though your colors are wrong.”

“You took the navy,” Riley retorted. “And do you know how fond they are of being ‘golden.’ There’s no way that we’re getting a cool color when that’s their take on it. And Kate has yellow! As does Pia!”

“Girls,” Lily broke in. They were getting a bit off track.

“Actually, a sailor town isn’t a bad idea. We can go with the pirate theme and,” Riley drummed her fingers on the table. “The issue being not appropriating other cultures.”

“Canterella then?” Luciana asked. “It’s old fashioned.”

“But at the same time, perfect?” Riley grinned. “I don’t know what Anastasia has in mind for our new outfits.”

“Well, a Canterella outfit would be a costume and extra, I think,” Lily said. “Is that the stuff at the Purple Pony?”

“Along with the Knights of Unistria and some Mermaid stuff.”

“Ohh, mermaids,” Riley said. “This, oh, idea,” she grinned and scribbled something down. “Okay, but yeah, we think the treasure hunt should take enough time that we don’t need much more than that for our area.”

Sonja muttered. “If we could get to Firfall they have a Medieval Faire with an archery competition.”

“The road’s blocked,” Luciana said.

“I’m thinking some moltov cocktails,” Sonja rubbed her hands.

Everyone glared at her.

“Oh fine,” Sonja slumped.

“Amelia, over to Jorvik Stables,” Lily said.

“Okay, so, um, no one is very worried about Elaine, outside of Jill and us. Jack is useless. There are a ton of shops empty, but the shops there aren’t that amazing either and should be combined. Though the two hair salons can’t be. There’s two themes. Eventing style elegance, and the rock star stuff.” Amelia shrugged. “It’s a town so it’s big enough for both. For the event, we’re running a special group race. And in the arena we’re having a special show jumping race. Lowe Westburg runs both of them. She gives out prizes. Catherine is doing her special cake. And the Miscreants are playing in the garden.” She pronounced Lowe as Lou-ve.

“Have you talked to Herman about the Riding Arena yet?”

“He refuses to open it. Absolutely refuses,” Amelia rolled her eyes.

Josefina huffed. “We told him we’ll keep the doors open and not go in at night.”

“We’re using a pair of swans that make a heart for our charm,” Amelia shrugged.

“It seemed obvious,” Josefina smirked.

“Is that enough for that area, you think?”

“Two races, on top of everything else you can do during the week?” Lily widened her eyes.

“What about wrist cuffs?” Violet, Ingrid’s Vice President in Firgrove, asked.

“Wrist cuffs?”

“For a craft,” Violet defended. “Look, okay you say you’ve got two looks, elegant and rock. Elegant is pretty covered by the Winery, who should probably also be doing bead bracelets and stud and dangling earrings.”

“Noted,” Pauline said with a grin.

“Then, that leaves you with the rock stuff. Bandanas aren’t really a craft thing. So, that leaves leather wrist cuffs and chokers and headbands. Do a leather Siwa bow. Have some awesome looking heart and rose and the other symbols as metal studs and don’t they come in all colors now with electroplating? Then what you do is take your shops, get them down to four between the tack shops and the clothing shops. Then beg the Miscreants to set up a shop there for their swag, or do a combined band swag shop.”

The girls were all nodding.

“Don’t you have that donut shop too, with Lisbeth,” Ginny said, her eyes glazing over. “I love her donuts. She could do tons of rainbow ones.”

“Okay, I think that’s covered then,” Lily said. “Onward to you, Ami.”

“We’re like you, doing our grand opening.”

“Pretty hanfu inspired dresses and Chinese Fusion,” Lily said remembering Anastasia’s complaints.

There were giggles.

Ami tilted her head. “We’re using a frog for our symbol. It’s a Chinese animal for good fortune, and the kanji for friend. We though to do some origami for our crafts. Origami earrings and stuff you can add to headbands.”

“Right, and you have the pop group.”

“The bottom of the Cauldron can be pretty, so we thought we’d do a ride to the bottom, have something there and lead them back up. We aren’t sure on what yet.”

“Make it surprise.”

“Tea ceremony,” said someone else.

“Is that okay?” Ami looked over at Ginny.

“The best way down into the Cauldron is closer to you than it is to us. We’ve got a ride planned through the Mirror Marsh.”

“Bring lots of bug repellant.”

“And maybe Frida will show up with her frogs,” Ginny added.

“We’re also giving away rainbow themed fortune cookies,” Ami waved her hands. “Because, fortunes!”

The girls all laughed. Even Loretta cracked a smile.

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.