#i sketched this ages ago and just sat down this evening and transfered the sketch to the panel and the painting happened

[dksartz]

Little Blue Dreams

Acrylic on panel 6x6"

Reference from thekangaroosanctuary on insta from their video on Pippa the Joey's first steps. Sketched the kangaroo while watching the video, then sketched out the baby dragon based on that.

Young Blue pernese dragon in an abstract purple-red space.

[desi-lgbt-fest]

Day 5: Platonic

A story I wrote for today's prompt. It's a story about two middle aged men realising the happiness they want can come in many different forms.

1. 8 k words.

Cw: Mild homophobia. Incorrect language. It's indicative of character's understanding, not mine.

...

When Vikram Kumar first transferred to their branch, Nath wasn't impressed. Theirs was a small transport company, still somehow holding on against the giants of the industry. They were doing well for themselves; they had branches in few neighbouring states where the business was concentrated. And yeah, the company policy does state that employees should get transferred around every 4 years or so. But that never really happened. Nath had been working at Gada transport ltd for more than 25 years now and the only way anybody new ever came in the office was if someone died or retired.

That was what had happened. Another clerk, Nisha Bhagwan, had a heart attack at the computer and in came Vikram Kumar, a transfer from Nagpur. The office people took to him like animals take to the new clown at the circus. Nobody was really sad about Mrs Bhagwan's passing. She was old and in an office full of other old people, they were just waiting for the hat to drop on someone. Better Mrs Bhagwan than us.

They inquired after him, after his family, his mother's family, his neighbour's family, his neighbour's dog's family. When they found out that he was divorced and currently living in a sketchy hotel, they immediately turned to Nath.

Nath, or Adinath, as his name was, owned two flats in his society. Two flats side by side, one in which he lived. He very famously refused to rent it out to families or students or single women. Which meant, he never really rented it out. It actually quite suited to his own solitary silent life. But he regretted boasting about it in the office because here came his perfect rent.

"I- uh. The apartment is very dirty and I'd have to clean it," he started making excuses.

Vikram Kumar shrugged. "I don't mind. Better than listening to the sex noises coming from the side wall." Raucous laughter emerged, unhampered by the fact that their only woman employee wasn't there anymore.

Nath couldn't say no.

Vikram Kumar did turn out to be an ideal renter. He was silent. No guests. Rent, which Nath had kept a little high to dissuade, always on time. Sometimes old hindi songs drifted from his flat but Nath didn't mind. As his novelty wore off and office people stopped fawning over him, Nath did find himself to be quite okay with Vikram Kumar's existence.

A distinct mark in his favour was that he didn't laugh when at their regular chai break (5 minute break that always turned into a 45 minute one) the others made him familiar with Nath's title as the resident Bramhachari.

"Never married, never looks at a woman," Bhosle, their manager remarked.

"Hey you remember that time when that bombshell came in complaining about some lost package? Nath did not even look away from her face."

"Pakka gentleman, I tell you. He's not the customer complaint manager for nothing."

Everybody guffawed. Nath gave his regular pained smile. Vikram Kumar smiled back. For a moment, Nath thought it was a smile of understanding.

Eventually, Nath started offering Vikram Kumar a ride home on his ancient scooter. He obliged. When the ride turned regular, Vikram Kumar started contributing for petrol. Another mark in his favour.

13 months later, Vivek Chand, accountant, retired. In came a new hire, Ashalata Waad.

Suddenly many colleagues started turning up in pressed shirts and oiled hair. Nath merely shook his head and laughed at their preening. It was their colleagues' turn to laugh when Ms. Ashalata, recently widowed, took to Nath. Furtive smiles. Sympathy over dealing with difficult clients. Nath of course did not notice. But the other colleagues did. And out of sympathy for Ms Ashalata's feelings, they gently took her to a side after a week or so and directed her towards someone more likely to respond; the new divorcee, Vikram Kumar.

That, Nath certainly noticed.

That evening, Nath left without offering a ride to him.

Next morning, everyone noticed the distinct coldness between Ms Ashalata and Vikram Kumar. It was a long day too. Some trouble with licensing of a large shipment, everybody had to stay behind. It was well over 8 when people started leaving. Vikram came over to Nath's desk and tapped on it.

"I don't think this late I will find a riksha like yesterday. Will you please give a ride home?"

Nath sighed. He wasn't petty after all. Well, not much.

The streets were near empty. Theirs was a small town. One that eats at 8 and sleeps at 10. Nath's scooter cut through the silence and the sickly orange lights of the streetlamps like an interloper. They were crossing the Hutatma Chauk when Vikram asked him to stop.

"What for?"

"It was a long and stressful day. I wanted us a relax a bit at the park bench before we go home."

"I'm not going-"

"Please yaar."

Nath sighed.

Stopping the scooter at side, they both walked to the circle where statue of some forgotten freedom fighter stood, benches around it. Surprisingly, there were some people ambling around. Old couples taking a rest from nightly walk. A group of youngsters.

After having the sound of scooter in the ears for past five minutes, the sudden silence was deafening.

"I don't think Ms Waad would be talking to me again," Vikram Kumar started without preamble, a laughter in his voice.

Nath sighed and ran a hand through in thin hair. "You didn't do any-"

"No no, oh god no! I just said I'm not interested. I think that was enough for her to be offended."

"She's not your type?" he probed gently, curious.

Vikram was silent for a moment and then burst out with sudden emotion, "Why does it matter? Why one single woman and one single man can not stay without having an affair? Ye saala bollywood-" Nath hushed him, noticing the people around.

"Sorry." Vikram said, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

"I get it. Years ago, when I told my father I was gay-"

"You're what??"

Nath felt like he made a tremendous mistake in judgement. But he was a grown man dammit, he will hold his ground!

"I said I am gay." Nath held his gaze. Vikram Kumar stared back, unknown range of emotions passing. Eventually he broke the gaze, ran a hand through his own balding hair and sat back.

He shook his head. "I am not gay, if that's why you-"

"That wasn't-"

"I'm NOT. I like women. I- I mean men are good too. I. I don't-"

Nath couldn't help it. He broke into a loud laugh. Like Vikram had performed some excellent comedy sketch.

Vikram punched him lightly on his shoulder, a smile evident on his face.

"I just meant, men, women. All are same to me. Honestly, I didn't mind being married to Sheela. I provided for her, I cared for her wellbeing. Our.. bedroom relations were less ideal but I didn't shut her out. I did my duty."

"I'm guessing she wanted someone who didn't see her as a duty?"

Vikram shrugged. "She was nice about it. Told me plain and simple she found someone else. We didn't have kids. It was easy. Well. As easy as it could be. She told the court I was impotent for swift divorce. I agreed. It caused drama in families though, which is why I asked for a transfer."

"Mrs Bhagwan died at a really opportune moment then."

They both shared a laugh and things fell silent once again.

"So you are... one of those," Vikram tried to say casually.

The elderly couple had left. A newly wed looking one took their place. Nath suddenly felt he was thrown back in time.

"I don't have much family," he started. "Mother died when I was young. Theirs was a love marriage, quite unusual for the times. They had run away and so had lost their families. My father raised me well enough; started pestering me for marriage when I got the job at 22. I kept avoiding for few years. But eventually I had to tell him. I wasn't going to ruin some poor woman's life." Nath looked pointedly at Vikram. Vikram didn't take offence. Just laughed self-consciously. Mark in his favour etc etc.

"Father raged for days. Didn't raise his hand on me, didn't tell anyone else but we fought a lot. It wasn't that he denied my condition. He just wanted a family. On some level we understood each other. I realise it now. I knew he wanted me to marry because he didn't want his hard fought family to die with me. And I guess, he probably knew what it meant to love someone you weren't supposed to.

He died soon after."

"When you were thirty, I remember you telling me."

Nath nodded. "I was free. I had a place of my own. A job. No family to hide myself from. I felt guilty over feeling relieved. I felt angry at being guilty. Then came sadness over being angry. That sadness stayed for a decade."

Vikram asked, "So you never...?

Nath shook out of his trip to memory lane. "Hm?"

"Are you? A bramhachari? Did you ever find-"

"There were some men here and there. Obviously there wasn't going to be a relationship," Nath scoffed. "If you know where to look, you can find release. But after Father died, I don't know, I rarely ever went looking for anybody. I didn't have it in me."

Vikram laughed. "Look at us. Two old men, all on their own, no happy family for us."

"Speak for yourself, I'm barely a day over 40," said the man, almost 50.

Vikram laughed again, looking at him with such fondness in his eyes. Nath felt sharp fear for a moment. Then he decided to be an adult again.

"You look well for your age too."

"Nath..."

Nath shivered at hearing his name. It was an intimate name. People didn't say it much. But it fit in Vikram's mouth.

"I don't want to change anything," Vikram said. "I'm happy as things are. It's ideal. I can't offer anything more."

Nath got up, brushing dust from his pants. It had gotten late. They were alone at the circle. A vehicle passing by to remind them of the world that exists.

"I'll take whatever you can offer," he said, looking away from him.

"Friendship? For as long as I live?" Vikram held out his hand.

Nath looked at it. Big, warm. Hairy. Pale skin where the wedding ring used to sit. He extended his own and took it.

"As long as I live."

... Let me know if you like it enough to see some other prompts involving them... I have so many headcanons for them.

[jarofmiseries]

meet   pandora   marino   

g’day mates, just arrived to the bbq with this baby, so without further delay here’s my baby-girl’s intro. it happens to be all over the place which i apologise in advance as i have a shocker of headache - would i have liked it to be better oh but of course but here’s what we’re left with. sloppy somethings that’s for damn sure. here’s quick info along with some wanted connections! 

s t a t s   .

f u l l   n a m e   :   Pandora   Gioia   Marino  a g e   :   Twenty-one b i r t h d a y   :   31st   October  z o d i a c   :   Scorpio s e x u a l i t y   :   Pansexual  o c c u p a t i o n s   :   Cashier at Gio’s & Babysitter  s i d e   h u s t l e   :   Art forger   l a n g u a g e s   :   Fluent in English & Italian

p h y s i c a l  .

f a c e   c l a i m   :   Kiernan Shipka v o i c e   c l a i m   :   Kiernan Shipka h e i g h t   :   5′0 ft b o d y   s h a p e   :   Rectangle s k i n   t o n e   :   Pale, speckled all over in pale golden freckles e y e   c o l o u r   :   Hazel  h a i r   c o l o u r   :   Dyed blonde, natural ashy brown roots always on show and ribboned through the blonde in natural streaks.  t a t t o o s   :   She has one that she got with her mother on her eighteenth birthday. Wants to get more but money is going towards certain things and rest of her money in a bank account located in Italy. 

p e r s o n a l i t y   .

m b t i   :   ENFP

imaginative and original, these individuals are often very artistic, even in appearance.

may not be up front about all her cards, tends to keep them close to her chest, despite being such an open personality. in her art pieces that haven’t been forged to make a bit of each cash for her and her family, one might be able to see the sorrows, passion and stories painted on a canvas.

she’s very creative and likes to dabble in a bit of everything. she has her own fashion sense, paints based off the world around her, and lives in the moment looking for her next source of inspiration.

she is loyal to her friends no matter what, but she does occasionally get her feelings hurt easily. but when her feelings are hurt, she doesn’t talk about it. she simply states she’s upset and walks away until the problem is fixed. or never speaks of it again. hoping for water under the bridge. 

pandora states things in very matter-of-fact ways.

she has a hard time letting go of people and will associate them with other things in order to feel their presence again. she has a good memory for details.

pandora obtains pretty good people skills from the years of working at her father’s store... now her brother’s store. not to mention how her personality blends well with children from the positive ways in which she clings to when in their presence to make sure they all see the glass half full and purposely to let them hold on to their innocents for as long as they can in a town like Charming.

not big on confrontation in the slightest but will throw hands if she feels she needs to. 

always content with life. 

q u i c k   i n f o   .

Pandora happens to be the baby of the Marino family, the apple of her father’s eye and the ghostly smile on her mother’s lips whenever the blonde happened to be around with that all said it is easy to guess life was much easier on her. Free from not having to live up to family obligations, giving her the freedom to go down the path of art instead of the stable route of college. 

Her parents have always been her biggest fans in her art works since the day she picked up a paint brush.

Giovanni would always note how much she remind him of his mother in looks where as her personality a lot like her mother in peak of her youth. Never did she take it well, not wanting to be a knock off nor having the expectations of trying to live up to either of the women in her family as she never wants to disappoint them. 

When her father passed away four years ago, Pandora found herself at a crossroads of trying to still discover herself and wanting to keep his memory alive but how does one keep the dead alive without some strange experiment. So, she was lost, a drift in this crazy world. And has never truly unearthed who she’s supposed to be which means re-creating herself monthly almost.

Clearing out the attic once not long after her father passed away, she found a box of her father’s old sketch books and there she sat in the dust filled attic and the torch light travelling over fine detail. This was the staple in her life, by continuing with art, her father would never truly die as he’ll live through her in every art piece. In this time in the attic, may it been the age dust she inhaled went to her head, she started to copy works of art from the one book that was in the box of her father’s things. 

It would’ve been two solid years until she was able to re-create famous artworks down to the paints or even the paintbrushes used, technique flawless that it started to get her attention from buyers and one of her older siblings stepped in to help her out in being the front in a sense for the replicas. Rerouting money transfers from America, Germany and many other countries before stopping in Italy or where the trail goes cold. Because rich snobs deserve to be conned out of their money.

c o n n e c t i o n s   .

the big ex

slowburn relationship - rewatched sabrina living for calbrina

best friends like two of them

a father figure that she has latched onto - besides her brother. 

someone from the wicked wolves that wants her to join because they got wind of her art works.

bad influence 

neighbours - tends to sing loudly whenever in the back shed which is her mini art studio or sleeping on their front yard after a night out. 

personal driver because she does have a driver’s license

it’ll be super cute though if a mc member is teaching her to ride a motorbike before the car.

honestly anything will do !

[fmdtaeyongarchive]

↬ i drank up all the memories.

date: spring 2019.

location: seoul, south korea.

word count: 1,813 words.

summary: n/a.

notes: creative claims verification. alcohol tw + substance abuse tw. also trigger warning for ash mentally romanticizing his own (and others’, i guess?) substance abuse tendencies. please don’t read this. it might be my worst verification yet.

ash’s drink of choice was a good strong whiskey, but the first drink he’d ever had had been wine. it’d been at a dinner party his parents held and they’d let him sneak a sip. it’d been entirely un-scandalous and about the furthest thing from rebellion possible, but at the time it had felt like the thrill of his life. thirteen years old and unaccustomed to the effects of alcohol besides the way it stung when disinfecting a cut, he had been taken aback by the fizzing sting it brought over his tongue and throat. it wasn’t as bad as it looked when he saw people on television throwing back shot glasses of tequila, but he hadn’t understood at the time why anyone would like it that much. it didn’t taste any better than any other beverage and being drunk couldn’t be that wonderful, he’d naively thought.

now, wine was a drink ash found to be dull. even the most expensive wines weren’t all that amazing in pure taste, and once he’d become a regular drinker, he’d learned it wasn’t about the taste unless you were a wine connoisseur, and that wasn’t a career path ash was going to be going down any time soon. if he wanted to let go of his inhibitions and worries, which was generally the only reason he drank, there were options that were much more effective by the fluid ounce. outside of formal occasions and dinners with mixed company, wine was the drink he only broke out when he wanted to torture himself with the slow burn to a hazy mind instead of the fast and easy path.

ash was a masochist certainly. that wasn’t news to him. he knew all about the difference between the slow pain-easing journey of getting drunk off of wine in place of the fast and burning pain of downing the highest alcohol content shot he could get his hands on. perhaps he should enjoy wine more because of that, but, as a masochist, most nights, he wanted it fast. he didn’t drink for the journey anymore.

yet, there was something to be said for the imagery of someone drowning their melancholy in the gradual fever of a red wine. it was a scene that had been brought to life in many a movie, and it was while watching a movie reclining in his mostly unused living room couch that inspiration struck him for the song. as happened so often in movies that capitalized on dramatic love stories, a man sat in a chair in the dark of his apartment, glass of wine in his hand as he looked over the scenic view of whatever city the film was supposed to be set in. it wasn’t the first time ash had seen the movie, but he’d forgotten the details of the setting as he let the predictable story wash over him unanalyzed.

that had been ash years ago. the drinking age in korea being years lower than in the states had been a helpful accompaniment to the way he’d started young with heartbreak, too.

ash didn’t jump on the song the minute it began to sprout in his mind, but as the first movie turned into another in the mindless marathon of romantic dramas, another similar scene appeared like a sign. this time, the man had chosen a bar as a setting for his melancholy and ash couldn’t stop his brain from gnawing away at the truth behind the cliche. it was easy to drown one’s pain in a drink. ash had done it more times than he could count.

it was after the second scene that ash paused the television and followed the familiar path to his studio. the movie could wait for later, or never if he didn’t feel like coming back to it later, but in the midst of writing an album, any inspiration for a song that came to him so easily needed to be taken advantage of. there were so many nights spent in his own studio on his own or a studio at bc with other producers, brainstorming uselessly for an idea that could spark motivation that forgoing such a convenient offering of lyrical theme would be neglectful of him.

ash slid into the cool seat of his studio chair and pressed the computer on, ideas pulling at the strings of his brain so strongly that he began testing out pressing down chords on the keyboard that wasn’t capable of transferring any of it into sound yet. he heard the keys in his head as he acted out the chord structure and rhythm. he was aiming for the sound of a piano player in a jazz bar, fading into the distance while echoing in the listeners head. ash hadn’t been to many jazz bars in his time. cinema seemed to overestimate their popularity, or there was simply a major discrepancy between their abundance in american cities and seoul. film had taught him the cinematic atmosphere of one, though, and he had enough experience plucking out jazz piano music that it wasn’t too daunting of a feat for him to create a r&b chord progression to play around over top of a more freeform and clashing, tinny piano that would ring out underneath the base melody. throw in some low bass strings and a hollow drum pattern and he had a soundscape to work with before he’d even had time to create a musical outline in his mind. instead, it had all come together naturally based on the setting in his head.

there was a slow burn groove to the composition that teetered on the line between a song that could play under the witty, flirtatious exchange of dialogue during the first meeting between two fated partners in a film just as well as it could play under the scene of one half of the pair seated alone in the same bar months or years later when the passionate affair had completely fallen apart with only treacherous memories and glasses of wine left to poison the mind.

it all played out in his head faster than he could transfer it into his music program, but by the time the sun began to rise outside of his building in the morning—not that he could see it within his studio with its meticulously blacked-out windows—ash was left with an instrumental that had full potential to be turned into something. before he left the studio to shower and get dressed for his schedules for the day, sleep be damned, ash sent the instrumental out to one of his producer contacts for feedback on what it needed to be complete. surely, he hadn’t been able to craft a fully fleshed out track in one night, but he didn’t want to wait and stress over the details for another several nights in a row when what he had now had come to him as such a simple strike of inspiration.

he returned to his studio two nights later and opened up the producer’s response. they’d praised his start, but provided their constructive criticism as ash had welcomed within his initial message. he’d also invited them to include their own edits to the track if they had time, but they hadn’t sent a new file back, either because they hadn’t had time or because they hadn’t found anything they didn’t trust ash wouldn’t fix himself. ash hoped the latter possibility was the truth, but to avoid getting too proud of his own work, he assumed the former. upon listening back to the file, ash played around with production elements that had sounded better in the moment than they did now before settling on contentedness with the track.

that’s where the lyrics came in. he already had a concept in mind and thought it’d been a few days since he’d watched the scenes that had inspired the song, the distance was good. he didn’t want to write words that were too built upon some director’s creative vision for fake characters in a dramatized love story. like most of his songs, ash wanted this one to be more personal than impersonal. placing himself too separate from his own music was a sure way to run into a creative roadblock in his brain, and he’d been told he needed to work on getting better at separating himself so that he could write more diverse music, but for now, he wasn’t looking to challenge himself with someone else’s story.

it had been a while since ash had gone through a break-up or a crack in a relationship big enough to leave him drowning his romantic sorrows in a glass, but if he searched far back enough into the nooks and crannies of his memories, he could gather a recollection of what that feeling had been like. drowning his sorrows in general was a feeling that required much less searching, so he focused in on the imagery of that as he began to sketch out lyrics ideas.

settling on the concept of the bitter memories floating in the wine itself, ash found the first verse of the song. it told a four line story of downing glass after glass of the history-laced liquid to make the past disappear into the abyss because the pain of holding on was too much.

the song then turned into a lament directed at a lover who couldn’t hear him. the false sense of security in shouting into the void while intoxicated had fooled ash once or twice, but the silence never talked back in the way he wanted. it never had the voice of the person he both ached to and feared hearing speak back, and there was both relief and hurt in that fact. instead, the silence only brought back the memories that he’d been so inelegantly trying to banish from his mind.

from misery to resoluteness, that was how the song’s tale ended. the pieces of a broken relationship couldn’t be patched together any easier than the shattered shards of a fragile wine glass, and that was a truth more bitter to swallow than the drink itself. no matter how hard it could be (and how bad ash was at it), it was something that had to be realized to move on.

no one could keep submerging the parts of their mind they wanted to ignore in wine forever. they either had to find a way to float or give in and drown. that was a thought that skirted over the surface of ash’s brain, only staying long enough to be incorporated into the lyrics before swiftly disappearing so as not to be dwelled on too long.

he had to put part of himself into every song, but he didn’t have to face the way those parts tried to look back on him in the mirror of his music.

[dnp-and-blankets]

Love Lessons

TW: Abuse mention, Suicide mention, Abandoned, if theres any more pls let me know

3,441 words

Soulmate AU where you don’t realise who your soulmate is until they leave, and then you cry whenever they cry OR Phil is a sunflower happy new kid with a fascination for soulmates, Dan is an angsty, angry, artist who hate soulmates with a passion, ft Patrick Stump 

 "We can't take him" "Why not" "You can barely look after yourself, and are you forgetting we already have a child?" "He has no one!" "Chloe I swear to fuck" "You'd want Daniel to have somewhere to stay wouldn't you?" "It's not my fault the boy wasn't wanted!" "Would you want Daniel to be treated like this?" "He never will be in foster care" "What if something happens to us?" "My sister's ex bought us that house remember? Already furnished, for when Daniel wants to live on his own." "Philip never had that" I don't know what's going on. All I know is that Chloe equals food. And I really wants food. "He's only 4 years old!" "Pwease can I has some toast?" "Philip go to your room." "Chloe, you're not fit enough for this" "Miss Chloe, I'm really hungry" "Philip!" I go upstairs sniffling, and catch a glimpse of a little boy my age. He growls at me and throws a fox teddy. I pick the teddy up and name him Thomas.

                                                          ~*~

                  I'm very excited today. Today I start at a college that teaches soulmate lessons weekly. Today I start at a college in the town I'll hopefully spend more than a few weeks in. Today, I can finally start figuring out who my soulmate is.  I take a deep breath and look in the mirror. My quiff is being pressed down ever so slightly by a sunflower flower crown. My glasses hang lazily off my nose. I smile brightly at myself and glance at my outfit one more time- a yellow shirt, with the sleeves rolled up halfway up my arms, black jeans, odd socks, white trainers, and a light blue denim jacket- and went through my bedroom door. "Good luck at school Philip!" Stephanie's chirpy voice sang as I walked passed the kitchen. Me and Stephanie moved here to celebrate her second year of adopting me, and we decided homeschool just wasn't going to cut it anymore. I thanked her, grabbed my lunch money, college I.D, shoved Thomas into my pocket, and begun the walk to school. I kick leaves as I walk, and talk to birds that fly passed me. "Bords," I mutter under my breath as a flock flies over my head. I hear a snort behind me and turn to see someone with glasses similar to mine, and strawberry blonde hair. "Not typical behaviour for 17 year olds but carry on." He had an american accent. I was mesmerised, and he seemed to notice this, "I'm a transfer from Chicago, my 'rents moved here a couple months ago, but I'm just starting college now."

"I moved here last week." He smiled at this and hurried to walk the same pace as me. He was much shorter than me. "I'm Phil!"

"Patrick!" another voice yelled. It was an ever so slightly tanned boy, with brown hair that curls, and deep brown eyes surrounded in quite a bit of smudged eyeliner. He definitely slept in his makeup last night, and just reapplied this morning. "Big mood." He twirls to face me and sneers, "What?"

"Sorry, I was just-"

"This is Dan. He's angry. At everything, always. Don't take it personally," Patrick laughs, "want to walk with us?"

            We step into college laughing and wheezing, Dan had been talking about how useless giraffes were, and it was so surreal to see someone harbour so much rage for an animal they've never even seen. "I have English resit lessons first, what about you guys?" Patrick asks. "Love lessons," Dan rolls his eyes, the words laced with hatred, "yay." "Same!" I smile and follow him to the classroom. We stand outside the classroom door and he looks me up and down. I blush ever so slightly, feeling a bit too exposed for some reason. He nods to himself gently and then makes eye contact. "What are you taking?" "Soulmate Theory and Art," I declare, happy that I have a chance to show my enthusiasm, "what about yourself?" "Acting, and Art," he forces the words, seemingly biting his tongue, "why on Earth would you take Soulmate Theory? We're all literally forced to learn the basics once a week, why would you want to dedicate a years worth of college just to get a level 2 BTEC in something fake?" I ignore the fact that he just said soulmates were fake, and decide instead to question him on his logic, "You literally take acting," he smiles at this and we enter the classroom as the tutor greets us.

        "Good Morning everyone! We have a new student joining us today, would you like to like to introduce yourself?" The tutor had wavy blonde hair, and looking at her I.D, her name was Sharon. She seems very perky. "I'm Phil." Is all I manage to say before I notice Dan pulling stupid faces at me and I snort, breaking into laughter. Sharon looks at me in confusion and just lets me sit down. "Today we'll be touching on how much you need to know your soulmate before it counts when they leave," She says, writing a big question mark on the whiteboard, "and the answer is, to put it simply, not at all! They just need to enter your life, be it an accidental brush of the foot, they cough and it catches your attention, or even someone yells their name and you notice." "Sounds like this bullshit theory is grasping for straws. How many people actually find their soulmates after they've suposedly been crying for years?" I look up in shock at Dan's language towards a tutor. Sharon glares at him before answering, "It's not a large statistic, but sometimes people get lucky, and they witness someone crying at the same time as them multiple times, and then-" "Is there actual proof for this?" "Well, of course there's not lots, but we do know that people who never cry have reported crying just as their wife starts crying, and-" "This is such bullshit!" He yells, standing up and kicking his chair for dramatic effect. "As if you idiots teach a mandatory class on something you can't actually prove," the boy mutters before storming out.

       I sit down in my art class, still not fully over Dan's outburst from over an hour ago. He never returned to the classroom, and I didn't have much hope of seeing him in my art class either. "Phil?" The art tutor had sat himself next to me for some reason. My eyes flickered to his I.D, which said, "Mx Quinn" which confused me to an unknown extent. "I'm non-binary," they explained without missing a beat. They hand me a tissue and I take it slowly. I aimed to say, "What's this for?" but it came out in a sorrowful sob, and I realise with a shock that my soulmate must be crying somewhere. "I don't even know his name" I say sadly. Quinn's eyebrow raises but they seem to accept my queerness pretty quickly, not even questioning it. "When did you meet him?" "Steph says my social worker told her that I've been crying randomly since I was put into foster care, so it must have been pretty early on. And trust me when I say I've been in a lot of different foster homes, so I have no idea how to even begin tracking him down." "My soulmate is my wife, but she wasn't my wife until last year, so I wouldn't give up hope just yet" They pat my shoulder before turning and walking to their whiteboard. "Students!" They say with a clap. "Quinn!" A chorus of students clap in response.

     "Now that first term is over, and we've finished our Christmas break, I've decided to actually assign you work, instead of letting your imaginations run free. But don't worry, I won't be telling you what to draw, just hopefully giving you some inspiring prompts." The door swings open and Dan walks in, looking angry as per usual. He sits down next to me. "Today’s prompt, is Beauty, take it as you wish." Quinn claps once more and everyone begins moving. I take out my sketch book and my pencil, and start drawing a circle. I cover the remainder of the page in easy-to-remove sellotape, and then get my water paints out. Dark navys mix with  deep purples, and they both mix with magentas, and then are left to dry. Whilst waiting for it to dry, I remove the tape, and then look over at Dan's page. He's using white chalk on black paper. He's drawn the lines of multiple people, with one person in particular being coloured in white, whilst the rest are left uncoloured. This person is now being shaded around, to give them the appearance of glowing. "Is that your soulmate?" "No, they're even better" "Why?" "Because they exist" I raise my eyebrows at him, but don't question it. "Who is it?" "Does it matter?" "No, but-" "Then drop it."

         At the end of the class I have fully painted a little circle of galaxy, that's surrounded by vines and flowers and various other plants. "Plants killing the universe? Irony is beauty to you?" Quinn was stood over my desk "Nope," I smile, "I just really like plants and space!" "Stop," Dan chimes in, "we get it, you're a soft person." He sounds angry but he's smiling as he says it. I pack up my bags and leave the classroom. Why is he so angry all the time? I think about what could be upsetting him when Patrick grabs my arm. "Soulmate Thoery right?" I nod and we begin walking to class together.

                                                          ~*~

"Phil, stop crying, please" Kat begs, "David will be home soon. You mustn't be crying so much on your first day here." I sob in response. I'm not even sad. I don't know why I'm crying so much. "You don't want to end up back in the orphanage do you?" "I'm not sad," I plead, tears still streaming down my face, "I'm very happy I'm here!" "Then stop crying before David arrives." The front door swings open just as she says this, and a tall, dark eyed man enters the room. "Why does he cry?" He has a Russian accent. "Why does the small one cry? What happens to 9 year old that make them cry so much?" He seems to be getting angrier and angrier. "Phil please stop" Kat begs me. David raises his hand and yells, "Why do you cry?" "I don't know sir" "Bullshit!" He bellows, his hand coming down rapidly. I don't stop crying for a week. They send me back to the orphanage after two days. The crying doesn't stop. I go about my life, eating, playing games, reading, but for a week straight, my body is wracked with sobs.                                                               

                                                          ~*~

             I was 4 years old when I found myself in my first foster home. They kept me for two weeks, and then I was moved to a different home, because the mum was getting sad, or somet, and she could only handle one child, so naturally she kept her own, and not the foster kid. According to my social worker, I've been crying randomly ever since leaving the orphanage in that town. So that's the first place I decide to check. Soulmate Theory is a class dedicated to finding logic in soulmates, and the only reason I decided to take it is because it will provide resources for me to locate my own soulmate. "So, what do you think she will look like?" Patrick asks, hyped for me, as he already found his soulmate, sadly it was after he had moved to the UK, and Pete was still in Chicago. "Well, I hope he has curly hair, because curls are the cutest, and maybe he'll have glasses like me? I want him to have darker eyes than me, so maybe green," I pause for a second in thought, "Brown would be nice too" "tanned?" "kind of? I don't expect them to always be tanned but it'll be nice to have someone who can tan, unlike me." "what colour hair" "I'm naturally ginger, so not ginger or black, maybe blonde, or brown" "brown eyes, brown curly hair, can tan?" "Yeh?" "You mean, Dan Howell?" I choke and look away from my computer screen, eyes wide and aimed directly at Patrick. "No"

         I open a new tab and search for the orphanage I was sent to after my first foster home. I type in the year I was sent there. Patrick notices the town's name and asks if I'm for real. "Yes, why?" "That's Dan's home town," He winks, "Maybe he is your soulmate" "Dan could be my soulmate? Should I tell him?" "No, he doesn't believe in soulmates." "That's good, because I don't think I could spend the rest of my life with someone so negative." Patrick snorts and continues tapping away on his phone. I write down a list of people that were in the orphanage at the same time as me, and make a checklist. I'll message a different one every time I cry. I start stalking each of them online. Stephen, Karla, Bridge, Lucy- Bridge? "Trick, is Bridge a boy or a girl name?" "It's architecture" "It's someone on the list" "Just message them and see." Tears begin falling down my face. "Hey I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry-" "This isn't me!" I smile widely and message someone called Chris, I read the message out loud as I type it, "Hey, I have reason to believe that you're my soulmate, are you crying right now?" They mustn't have any privacy settings on, because the response I receive is immediate, "nope, I'm not crying, and I got my soulmate pregnant last month, so unless this is Keighleigh messing with me, you're not my soulmate," I read it out to Patrick. "Who spells Kaylee like that?" "I know, it's supposed to be K a y l e i g h" "Incorrect" "We'll ask Dan on the walk home?" "Absolutely."

          I message four other people, but none of them are my soulmate. I finally stop crying around ten minutes before the tutor dismisses us, and I feel strange. This time it didn't feel full of emotion. It felt empty. "Hi nerds" "You look like a mess," Patrick chirps. And he's right. Dan's face is paler than usual, and his hair is messy. "No duh, I just did the final scene of the drama I've been writing, the scene where my dog dies and I scream and cry in the rain. Someone's been dumping water on me as I've forced tears, I'm obviously not gonna be looking glamorous." "You've been crying? That's so weird, because-" I glare at Patrick and he stops talking. "Phil's soulmate search hasn't been going too well" "That's cause she doesn't exist." "He," Patrick corrects him, and Dan's eyes widen a little bit. We start walking home and me and Patrick exchange worried glances at each other. "Dan, you never talk about your childhood" "What's there to talk about? My mum's gone, as is my dad, and I've been living on my own since I was 15" "What happened to your parents?" "Phil," Patrick warned me, clearly Dan doesn't talk about this very often. I apologise and we carry on walking. Patrick turns a corner and waves goodbye. Steph apparently lives pretty close to Dan. "Come over?" Dan asks. I smile and nod, maybe a little too eagerly.

                                                               ~*~

         "He's been crying since he was 4 years old, are you prepared to take on this child who has in fact lost contact with their, seemingly very emotional, soulmate?" "Of course. He needs stability. I've always been a fan of stability." I start crying. "Sweetie, I know you don't believe me, but-" "It's not me," I sniffle. She wraps her arms around me in a hug. "He needs someone who has dealt with soulmates." "As you wish. Although, He's 15, and met his soulmate over 10 years ago, so instead of helping him find her, I suggest you book him into a support group for lost soulmates" "I'll do as I please with my child." "Foster child" "Only for a few months. And then he's my child" "Whatever. Sign here." "Go and adventure, Philip, your room is top left." I hear muffled conversation as I close the front door. I finally have a forever home. Someone finally wants me. I could cry, but as per usual, I don't. I never cry. My soulmate cries enough without my tears adding to it. I've been bottling it up for years now. Instead, I smile. I wipe my mirroring tears and try desperately to let him know I care about him. But soulmates don't work like that.

                                                             ~*~

        "You live here?" My jaw drops, "It's awesome!" "My aunt's gave it to me when I was little. I didn't need to use it until a couple of years ago though." "why not?" "Because soulmates aren't real" He says with a shrug. "Who did you draw today?" "You" I splutter, "Me? Why?" "Isn't it obvious? You're beautiful Phil" "But- I mean, thank you- but you don't- soulmates- and-" "Just because love isn't real doesn't mean beauty isn't" My mouth forms an 'O' and that's all I manage to respond. "Why don't you like soulmates?" "Because they ruin people's lives" "Elaborate?" "When I was little, my mum would never shut up about soulmates, she would even tell the little kids we'd foster occasionally" I shot him a quizzical look,  "My mum was bipolar, so she'd foster whilst my dad was at work, and they'd get sent back as soon as my dad would come home. She obsessed over it ever since we tried to foster someone when I was little and my dad had decided it wasn't best for mum's health. Anyways, my mum was obsessed with soulmates. It's all she'd ever talk about, it's all she'd ever research, for days on end. But she killed herself when I was nine. And dad didn't get that warm feeling my mum always spoke about when you lost your soulmate. He didn't love her once he found out that they weren't soulmates. He didn't love me once he realised I was a mistake "He started hitting me, ranting about how he wasted his life with the wrong person. But he had loved her when she was alive, so clearly his love was false, because of the bullshit soulmate theory. My dad killed himself when I was 14, and I spent around 6 months in foster care before my Aunt Stephy contacted me and reminded me of the house she bought me when I was 4. So many people waste their lives looking for soulmates and 'true love' that they don't even look twice at anyone until they're crying. It's fucked up. And plus, I've never cried without meaning it. Ever. Everyone my age has met their soulmate by now. So what? Mine just doesn't exist? Mine doesn't have emotions?" He laughs pitifully.

            "Or maybe they just love you enough to hold back their tears." "What kind of bullshit excuse is that?" "Love isn't just somet you see on TV, Dan" "Yes it is," He yells, suddenly stood up and bearing his teeth, "Soulmates aren't real, relationships aren't real, none of it is fucking real!" "Dan-" "Get out of my house" "Dan, no, please just-" "I said get the fuck out!" "But," I whisper softly. "But what?" "I think you're my soulmate" And for the first time in over 13 years, I start crying, because of my emotions. As I look up, so is Dan. His face is of pure shock, and he doesn't seem to be properly crying, his tears are instead mirroring mine. My hand in my pocket squeezes Thomas ever so slightly. "What's in your pocket?" He tries to say, choking on my sobs, wiping his eyes furiously. I pull the stuffed fox out of my pocket and this time it's Dan's jaw that Drops. "It was you?" "Wait- you were-" "I knew I remembered those eyes" "Wait" "Philip!" "Daniel?" He launches himself at me and captures my lips in a kiss.

        Dan doesn't get over his fears of soulmates immediately. But he starts paying attention in Love Lessons, he starts asking more serious questions, he runs to me whenever he starts second guessing himself, he paints me in art, and most importantly, he doesn't cry as much anymore. I love Dan, I always have, and although he may not ever love me 100%, I know he'll always be with me.

[greathammerhead]

The Stars Will Lead Me Home chapter: 2 summary: All she had left of her father was a book of the stars encrusted with a ruby. After years of wondering, she finally sets out on a voyage that she hopes will lead her to her father, not knowing she would find so much more. pairings: Harry Hook x Evie, mentioned Ben x Mal, past Evil Queen x Captain Hector Barbossa notes: This chapter is very...backstory heavy, and I hope it’s enjoyable to read. I wanted to make sure I set everything up, since it’s both in the future for the Descendants timeline, and how it crosses over into the Pirates timeline, since they’re very different.

Please let me know if I need to clear anything up!

Also, just so no one gets confused, there’s a character in the second scene that isn’t from anything Disney, just a character from a different series since I couldn’t really think of a Descendants/POTC character that could fit the bill. other locations: ao3 | ffnet

Evie ran her fingers across the fabric of her latest piece. It was a tiny strip of leather meant for embellishment on a jacket; in all her collections, she liked to keep reminders of the Isle that you’d only catch if you were paying attention.

Nearly a decade has passed since she first left the Isle, and a part of her still missed it. If she hadn’t gone through what she had, she didn’t know if she’d have the drive to work hard so she’d never have to miss a meal again. Now here she was, the biggest fashion designer in Auradon, sought out by all the royalty as well as the common folk, for whom she also made an affordable line. When she had time, she sat on the Isle Council, comprising of other villain children that wished to ensure not to repeat the past. By now, all the children that wished to leave had done so, and many were making prosperous lives for themselves outside the gaze of their villainous parents. Uma had helped them see how important that was. She and her crew had been one of the new waves of transfers over to Auradon, and despite what had transpired at Cotillion, Uma’s boldness to do something made her the first name to be added to the Isle Council, as well as a primary transporter of goods — well, when she so desired. Otherwise, as long as she and her crew weren’t reigning absolute terror, they were pretty much granted free reign to sail the seas as they wished. That had been the only day Evie ever saw tears be brought to Uma’s eyes. They’d developed a passing friendship within the Council, and Evie still sent Uma gifts every year as a thank you for opening their eyes. Uma wasn’t the only one she sent gifts to. Even those she never encountered or cared for, she would send gifts as a reminder of their shared past, a bond they had with each other. It could never make up for the time Evie and her fellow VKs spent living in luxury while the Isle suffered, forgotten, but for Evie, it was the least she could do.

Her fingers paused against the fabric, feeling the familiar pang in her chest.

Of course, thinking of the Isle brought her thoughts back to her mother.

She looked to her second work desk, the top of which held mostly finished pieces, as well as gifts for her mother.

Ever since she chose Auradon, her mother was livid. Now that Evie had the means to send her mother lavish presents, on all occasions the items had been sent back to her.

Even the mirrors.

Instead, she’d taken to sending smaller, more personal gifts.

She’d even sent drawings she did; if any kind of fashion pieces that were inspired by her mother, after another sketch had been drawn, Evie would send the original to her mother.

It seemed the Queen would rather something Evie put actual effort into, rather than a pretty necklace she’d seen in a shop window.

It was a stark change in her mother, a change Evie still didn’t quite understand, and she didn’t think she’d ever want to.

But she should at least try.

She put the leather strip down and went to the other work table.

Now was as good a time as ever to visit her mother, wasn’t it?

After grabbing everything she’d need and leaving the room, she didn’t realize that after her rummages, a small, leather-bound journal had fallen to the ground.

A journal with a bright red ruby set on the front.

- - -

“TORTUGA!” The chorus rang through the halls of the Queen Anne’s Revenge as scores of pirates disembarked, some being too impatient and deciding to fling themselves from the railings and onto the decks of the dock.

Captain Hector Barbossa was the last to leave, and he did so with pride.

After a brief — and for him, scarring — stint in the King’s Navy, he exacted revenge on the terrifying pirate Blackbeard who took his leg, and now he’d taken his ship, and was back to the joys of piracy.

The stench of Tortuga was something he sorely missed.

It was everything raunchy and dirty and exactly what he’d needed. And the hordes of treasure Blackbeard had collected meant Barbossa and his crew had a lot to play around with.

While Barbossa enjoyed mixing business with pleasure, there was something he needed to do first before joining his crew at one of the many taverns, and indulge himself in all manners of bad behavior.

He’d heard whisperings while he worked with the royalty, whisperings about a place he’d almost forgotten about: The Isle of the Lost.

After being sentenced there, he’d realized he and his crew were from a seemingly different time and place. It felt like they were at the edge of a map, their worlds only tethered by the ocean they shared.

The Crown partially knew of this technology and were granted bits and pieces of it in order to stay in the loop with Auradon, and it was how he’d been thrown on the Isle in the first place. Auradon didn’t want the Isle to mostly consist of old-time pirates, so the Crown relented and sent the first major captain and crew they were able to.

They weren’t too happy to hear of his escape, but that had helped him join the Navy: he divulged what information he could about the limited technology of the Isle — they were especially interested in TVs.

These TVs, however, were already known among some of the pirates. Someone had smuggled in a few, and after a bit of tinkering and magic, they were able to freely watch all Auradon had to offer. From what he understood, they aired quite amount of information on these TVs, and few men and women of this age were able to figure out how to save and extract it for later use.

And one of these very pieces of technology sat in a building in Tortuga.

The Hanged Man was a more low-key tavern, as it was more inland than the others, so those who were looking for a quick drink were more likely to choose a different location. It was a place mostly for business and trading, but would grow louder as the other taverns filled up.

The Hanged Man had a vast amount of hidden doors, and so Barbossa had to make sure he knocked on the correct one, lest he be kicked out for going where he shouldn’t.

The door was on the third floor, mostly obscured by a bookcase — Barbossa had laughed at that — and upon entering, he counted four flights of stairs that the guide led him down.

After walking down an impossibly long hallway, the walls finally opened up and Barbossa froze.

He truly felt like he was in a different world.

One of the walls held a large, flat screen with what looked to be news footage playing. Barbossa could only understand a few bits and pieces of it, gathering that the woman on camera was in Auradon.

Scattered around the room were smaller, box-like TVs where a few other pirates sat in front of, different images flashing across those screens.

There was a smaller bar here, and the man behind it looked up from the glass he was cleaning.

“Greetings, Captain Barbossa,” He nodded his head and put the glass and rag down. “While your reputation surely precedes you, we do require-” He was cut off by the large pouch that was thrown at him, and he caught it in his large hands. He needed only to peek inside before he whistled. “Definitely precedes you.”

He stepped away from the bar, and out of sight. Barbossa squinted, trying to see where he’d run off to with his coin before realizing he was right in front of him — the man was a dwarf.

The dwarf bowed. “Varric Tethras, at your service. What can I do for you?”

“The Isle.” Varric raised a brow, needing much more than that. “The name has been reaching me ears again, and I want teh know why.”

Varric raised a brow. “Not sure why. Things are pretty steady on the Isle, now that only the original villains are confined-”

“What?” Varric was only mildly annoyed to be cut off again.

“How long have you been out of the loop?” Barbossa’s silence was clear enough for the dwarf, and he just nodded to himself, making his way to one of the smaller TVs, beckoning Barbossa to follow him.

“The last 10 years, the short version. Pre-made for your convenience.” Varric made a quick trip to the bar, pressing a few buttons that were underneath until Barbossa’s screen lit up, and returned with a bottle of rum.

And that was how he left the Captain.

Barbossa took it all in, beginning with the four children that started it all.

This was what he’d heard, but didn’t know if it had just been talk from what remained of his crew.

The Evil Queen had a child, much to the delight of his crew who knew of his nights with her.

He believed himself to be infertile while he was cursed, and so the thought never crossed his mind. And he refused to believe otherwise.

However, that line of thought also spread jokes about how she was either sleeping with someone else during that time, or immediately went to someone better than their captain.

Either way, Barbossa refused to believe the darling creature on the screen could be of his blood, the way she balanced her Isle past and her Auradon future. She had something neither he nor the Queen had, true smarts.

He learned all of what had happened while he’d kept a blind eye to that particularly short part of his past, though it felt like a lifetime ago...and he would never admit to anyone that thinking of the Queen was still an incredibly sore subject.

“Varric,” In seconds, the dwarf was at his side. “Is there any information on the villains still on the Isle?”

Varric rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “There’s not much, since they don’t exactly like to be recorded over there. But I’ll put up the footage that we have.”

Varric returned to the bar, retrieving the needed footage in a way only he understood, before it once again appeared on Barbossa’s screen.

The first piece was from when the Isle four were back, presumably once the school year had finished.

“Our beloved once-villains are returning to the Isle! But don’t worry folks, they won’t be gone for long!” The name of the announcer was Snow White, and it took Barbossa a few minutes to remember who she was supposed to be. When it dawned on him that this is who the Queen had tried to end, he couldn’t help the laugh that clawed itself from his throat. “Now that they’ve decided to make Auradon their permanent home, they’re not only picking up the last of their belongings, but they’re picking up new students as well!”

The news reel went on to show various locations of the Isle, places that he thought he’d forgotten about, but the memories hit him as soon as they appeared on screen.

He even saw Pirate’s Bay, and the mess of grumpy-looking pirates that looked to be begrudgingly joining Auradon. He even spotted what looked to be Hook’s boy, who seemed to inherit his crazy eyes and love for carrying around a hook for a hand.

Then came the exterior of the Queen’s castle, and his breath hitched in his throat. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed over chest as her gaze was so piercing he truly felt she was staring him down again despite this recording being nearly ten years old.

The years took a toll on her, but to him she was still as beautiful as ever.

And with that thought, that revelation that hit him like a slap to his face, he nearly jumped from his seat and headed for the exit.

Auradon and the Isle were too far away. There was no point in even thinking about it.

Hector Barbossa took a large swig of the bottle of rum he’d been given, heading back to what he knew: the sea.

- - -

Her mother had just been staring at her for the past half hour, and even after being raised by the woman, she wasn’t quite sure what she was thinking.

“Come here.” Like an obedient child, Evie approached her mother, standing before her. “You haven’t been doing many face masks, have you? The bags under your eyes are disgusting.”

But unlike a child, unlike the child she once was, Evie just smiled.

“I don’t mind them one bit.” She then returned to her seat with a flourish, not minding her mother’s thin-lipped expression.

“You’ve changed, my dearest.”

“So have you.” She shot back, unable to stop herself. She was a little too pleased when her mother narrowed her eyes, not used to Evie challenging her. “I know you don’t appreciate my gifts,” Evie began, turning to the large bag she’d brought with her, “but I thought you’d like these pieces I made by hand, as well as my original drawings for them.”

Her mother took the jewelry and dresses without a word, though her eyes lingered on the drawings, as if confirming it belonged to Evie.

“You’ve had the time to make all this.” Her voice was even, betraying nothing. “It’s safe to assume you haven’t yet found a prince?”

Evie grit her teeth. “I’ve dated, but I have yet to find someone I truly love.”

“Ha! True love! There’s no such thing.” The Queen picked up the glass of wine Evie hadn’t noticed and took a long sip.

“It exists. You just have to look.”

Her mother scoffed, taking another drink.

Evie drew in a deep breath. “So you didn’t have that with my father?”

The glass was crushed in her grasp.

“Never,” The Queen’s voice was shaky, far from the cold anger Evie was used to seeing from her, “speak of that low-life in my presence!”

The Queen pointed to the door, the shards of glass flying to the floor from the gesture.

Without a word, without a goodbye, Evie picked up her bag and walked out of her childhood home, never once sparing her mother a look.

Once the front door of the castle slammed shut, the Queen immediately hunched over, silent tears sliding their way down her cheeks.

[woodsens]

Where to Find Guest Blogging Opportunities on fireinsidemusic.com

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tracks that she wrote greater than ten years in the past, the lady who arrived for being acknowledged only as being the piano Trainer offered what, in hindsight, seems like an eerie glimpse of her possess foreseeable future.

Im shifting away right now to a place so far-off, where by nobody is aware my identify, she wrote while in the lyrics of a tune known as Relocating.

When she wrote that music, she was young and vivacious, a piano teacher and freelance songs writer who beloved Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Seems, extended walks and every little thing about New York.

On a type of beloved walks, by means of Central Park in the bright sun of a June working day in 1996, a homeless drifter beat her and tried to rape her, leaving her clinging to everyday living. Once the assault, the terms to her track came legitimate. She moved away, away from New York City, away from her previous lifestyle, and all but her closest mates didn't know her identify. To the remainder of the planet, she was — much like the additional famous jogger attacked in Central Park 7 many years before — an nameless symbol of the urban nightmare. She was the piano Trainer.

Now, over the 10th anniversary of your assault, she is celebrating what appears to be her entire recovery from brain trauma. She's 42, married, with a small child. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano teacher, and she or he wants to notify her story, her way.

Her health care provider informed her it will choose 10 years to Recuperate, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I experience my life is redefined by Central Park, she claimed many days in the past, her voice comfortable and hopeful. Just before park; immediately after park. Will there at any time be described as a time After i dont think, Oh, This can be the tenth anniversary, the eleventh anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch home in a very wooded subdivision within a Ny suburb. She sat in a eating home strewn with toys, surrounded by photos of her cherubic, darkish-haired two-year-outdated daughter. A Steinway grand stuffed fifty percent the space, and at one particular point she sat down and played. Her enjoying was forceful, but she seemed embarrassed to Participate in quite a lot of bars, and shrugged, as an alternative to answering, when questioned the title from the piece. She asked that her daughter and her town not be named.

She calls that working day, June four, 1996, the working day Once i was harm.

Hers was the first in a very string of assaults by a similar man on four Women of all ages around 8 days. The final victim, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was crushed to Dying as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing store, and ultimately, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to everyday living in jail.

But the attack over the piano Instructor may be the just one persons look to recollect quite possibly the most. A part of the fascination should do with echoes of your 1989 attack around the Central Park jogger. But In addition it frightened individuals in a means the attack to the jogger did not mainly because its situation had been so mundane.

It didn't happen inside of a distant Portion of the park late at nighttime, but near a favorite playground at three during the afternoon. It might have took place to any one. The tension was heightened with the mystery with the piano lecturers identification.

For 3 times, as police and Physicians attempted to discover who she was, she lay in a coma in her clinic bed, nameless. Her mothers and fathers were on getaway and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Last but not least, one among her learners regarded a law enforcement sketch and was ready to identify her from the healthcare facility by her fingers, since her deal with was swollen further than recognition. The police didn't launch her name.

The very last thing she remembers about June 4, 1996, is supplying a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Street, then putting her extended hair in a very ponytail and heading out for the stroll. She doesn't keep in mind the assault, although she has read the accounts with the police and prosecutors.

To me its like a reality I realized and memorized, she claimed. As though I were being a pupil at school researching historical past.

She will not consider the man who did it. I might need been angry for any minute, although not much longer than that, she stated. How could I be indignant at John Royster? He was declared not crazy, but I guess by our standards he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her medical doctor at New York Clinic-Cornell Professional medical Heart, as it was identified in 1996, explained to reporters that she had a ten % potential for survival. Medical professionals had to get rid of her forehead bone, which was later changed, to produce space for her swelling Mind. When her mother made a community attract pray for my daughter, thousands did.

Immediately after eight days, she arrived away from a coma, first within a vegetative state, then within a childlike condition. As she recovered, she slept small and talked continually, at times in gibberish. I was receiving mad at people after they didnt respond to these terms, she mentioned.

Like an Alzheimers individual, she experienced minor brief-term memory and would fail to remember readers the moment they left the place.

More than many months, she needed to relearn tips on how to wander, dress, read and compose. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented every single day to Participate in guitar for her. He encouraged her to play the piano, from the advice of her Actual physical therapists, who believed she could be disappointed by her incapacity to Participate in just how she once had. Mr. Scherr performed Beatles duets along with her, enjoying the left-hand element though she played the right.

That was my finest therapy, she said.

In August, she moved back again property to New Jersey, together with her father, an engineer, and mother, a schoolteacher. She visited aged haunts and called good friends, hoping to restore her shattered memory. I was incredibly obsessive about remembering, she reported. Any memory reduction was to me a sign of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists considered her development was fantastic, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she experienced dropped the ability to cry, just as if a faucet within her brain had been turned off. One particular evening, 9 months following she was harm, she stayed up late to observe the John Grisham Motion picture A Time to Eliminate. Just immediately after her father had long gone to mattress, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two Adult males who experienced raped his young daughter.

The faucet opened, along with the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought about my mom and dad, my father, and the things they went by means of, she mentioned. Minimal by very little, my experience returned, my depth of mind returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back to high school and acquired a masters diploma in new music education.

Not everything went effectively. She and Mr. Scherr break up up 5 years after the attack, though they remain good friends. She dated other Adult males, but she often informed them concerning the attack immediately — she could not support it, she explained — they usually under no circumstances called for a second date.

We've got to search out you anyone, her Good friend David Phelps, a guitar participant, said four many years ago, ahead of introducing her to Liam McCann, a computer technician and newbie drummer. For as soon as, she didn't say just about anything concerning the attack right up until she bought to learn Mr. McCann, after which you can when she did, he admired her energy.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who had usually frequented her at her bedside when she was during the healthcare facility, married them in his Situations Square Business. She wore a blue dress and pearls. Whilst she was pregnant, inside a burst of creativeness, she and her pals recorded Even though Have been Youthful, an album of childrens tracks that she had created prior to the attack, including the song Transferring. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, developed the CD. On it, her spouse performs drums and he or she plays electrical piano.

Is her existence as it absolutely was? Not precisely, however she's reluctant to attribute the differences to her injuries. Her final two piano students remaining her, without contacting to explain why, she explained. She has resumed taking part in classical new music, but basic pieces, because her daughter won't give her the perfect time to apply. As for jazz, I dont even check out, she stated.

She wish to push much more, sensation stranded within the suburbs, but she is easily rattled. She tries to be information with keeping dwelling and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a clinical professor of neurological surgical treatment at exactly what is now termed Ny-Presbyterian Medical center/Weill Cornell Health-related Centre, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann after the assault, reported previous week that her level of recovery was scarce. Shes essentially typical, he said.

Other industry experts, that are not Individually knowledgeable about Ms. Kevorkian McCanns case, are more careful.

Regaining a chance to Participate in the piano may perhaps require an Virtually mechanical procedure, a semiautomatic remember of what the fingers have to do, said Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of scientific rehabilitation drugs at Big apple College College of Drugs. As soon as brain-hurt, you are often brain-injured, For the remainder of your life, Dr. Ben-Yishay reported. There isn't a get rid of, There is certainly only intense payment.

The greater telling Element of a Restoration, in his look at, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns relationship and youngster as a major victory.

For her aspect, the piano Instructor knows she has adjusted, but she has produced her peace with it. I had been type of a hyper —— I dont know if I used to be a kind A, but I used to be formidable, she states. Why was I so ambitious? I had been a piano Trainer. I dont know what the ambition was about. I actually did return to the person Im designed to be.

[emilyl-b]

10 Great fire inside music Public Speakers

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tracks that she wrote a lot more than ten years ago, the woman who came to get regarded only because the piano teacher offered what, in hindsight, looks like an eerie glimpse of her possess potential.

Im transferring absent these days to a spot so distant, exactly where no person knows my name, she wrote in the lyrics of a tune identified as Relocating.

When she wrote that music, she was young and vivacious, a piano Instructor and freelance audio author who loved Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river sounds, lengthy walks and every thing about Big apple.

On a kind of beloved walks, by way of Central Park in the intense Sunlight of the June working day in 1996, a homeless drifter beat her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to daily life. Once the assault, the text to her track came accurate. She moved absent, out of New York City, from her outdated everyday living, and all but her closest good friends didn't know her identify. To the remainder of the globe, she was — much like the additional well known jogger attacked in Central Park 7 a long time previously — an nameless symbol of the city nightmare. She was the piano Trainer.

Now, around the 10th anniversary on the attack, she's celebrating what is apparently her comprehensive Restoration from Mind trauma. She is 42, married, with a small boy or girl. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Instructor, and she or he really wants to convey to her story, her way.

Her health care provider instructed her it will just take 10 years to Recuperate, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I sense my life has become redefined by Central Park, she mentioned a number of days in the past, her voice delicate and hopeful. Before park; just after park. Will there ever be described as a time Once i dont Believe, Oh, Here is the tenth anniversary, the 11th anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch house inside of a wooded subdivision in a The big apple suburb. She sat inside of a eating place strewn with toys, surrounded by pictures of her cherubic, dim-haired 2-12 months-aged daughter. A Steinway grand filled 50 % the place, and at one particular place she sat down and performed. Her actively playing was forceful, but she seemed ashamed to Enjoy various bars, and shrugged, rather then answering, when questioned the identify of your piece. She requested that her daughter and her town not be named.

She calls that working day, June 4, 1996, the day Once i was harm.

Hers was the 1st in a string of assaults by the exact same guy on 4 Women of all ages above 8 times. The last victim, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was crushed to death as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing shop, and in the end, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to daily life in jail.

However the assault on the piano Trainer will be the just one individuals seem to recall by far the most. Section of the fascination should do with echoes on the 1989 attack over the Central Park jogger. But Furthermore, it frightened people today in a way the attack around the jogger did not simply because its circumstances were so mundane.

It did not occur in a very distant A part of the park late during the night, but close to a favorite playground at three from the afternoon. It could have transpired to any one. The strain was heightened with the thriller on the piano academics identification.

For three days, as law enforcement and Medical doctors tried using to see who she was, she lay in the coma in her healthcare facility bed, nameless. Her mothers and fathers had been on vacation and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Eventually, amongst her pupils identified a police sketch and was capable of establish her while in the clinic by her fingers, mainly because her face was swollen further than recognition. The police did not launch her identify.

The very last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is offering a lesson in her studio apartment on West 57th Avenue, then Placing her very long hair in the ponytail and going out for just a walk. She won't keep in mind the attack, While she has heard the accounts in the police and prosecutors.

To me its like a fact I discovered and memorized, she said. Like I were a student in school finding out heritage.

She isn't going to take into consideration The person who did it. I may have been offended for a minute, but not for much longer than that, she reported. How could I be indignant at John Royster? He was declared not crazy, but I guess by our standards he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her physician at New York Clinic-Cornell Medical Middle, as it had been recognised in 1996, explained to reporters that she experienced a ten percent probability of survival. Health professionals had to remove her forehead bone, which was later on replaced, to generate space for her swelling brain. When her mom built a public attract pray for my daughter, hundreds did.

Following eight times, she arrived from a coma, initially in a vegetative point out, then in a childlike point out. As she recovered, she slept tiny and talked frequently, sometimes in gibberish. I had been obtaining mad at persons if they didnt reply to these words and phrases, she explained.

Like an Alzheimers individual, she had small shorter-term memory and would fail to remember people when they remaining the room.

More than various months, she needed to relearn how you can walk, dress, study and write. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, visited each day to Participate in guitar for her. He inspired her to Enjoy the piano, in opposition to the recommendation of her Actual physical therapists, who believed she could well be frustrated by her lack of ability to Perform the way she after experienced. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets along with her, playing the still left-hand aspect though she played the best.

That was my most effective therapy, she explained.

In August, she moved again home to New Jersey, along with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She visited previous haunts and named good friends, making an attempt to revive her shattered memory. I had been quite obsessive about remembering, she stated. Any memory loss was to me a sign of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists considered her development was great, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she had shed a chance to cry, as if a faucet inside her Mind had been turned off. 1 night, nine months soon after she was harm, she stayed up late to view the John Grisham movie A Time and energy to Destroy. Just right after her father had gone to mattress, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two men who experienced raped his young daughter.

The faucet opened, as well as the tears trickled down her cheeks. I considered my mother and father, my father, and the things they went by means of, she reported. Minor by little, my sensation returned, my depth of brain returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back to school and acquired a masters diploma in tunes training.

Not every little thing went nicely. She and Mr. Scherr split up five years once the assault, though they continue to be friends. She dated other Guys, but she constantly informed them concerning the assault immediately — she couldn't assist it, she claimed — plus they by no means termed for your next date.

Now we have to seek out you an individual, her Good friend David Phelps, a guitar player, stated 4 years in the past, prior to introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and beginner drummer. For after, she did not say anything at all with regards to the attack until eventually she acquired to grasp Mr. McCann, after which when she did, he admired her strength.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who experienced typically visited her at her bedside whilst she was from the medical center, married them in his Occasions Square Place of work. She wore a blue costume and pearls. Even though she was pregnant, within a burst of creativeness, she and her friends recorded Even though Had been Youthful, an album of childrens tracks that she experienced written before the assault, including the tune Moving. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, made the CD. On it, her partner performs drums and she plays electric powered piano.

Is her everyday living as it absolutely was? Not accurately, nevertheless she is reluctant to attribute the distinctions to her injuries. Her very last two piano learners remaining her, without calling to clarify why, she claimed. She has resumed playing classical tunes, but uncomplicated items, mainly because her daughter will not give her the perfect time to apply. As for jazz, I dont even consider, she explained.

She would want to drive far more, feeling stranded inside the suburbs, but she is definitely rattled. She tries to be articles with keeping house and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a medical professor of neurological surgical treatment at what is now known as New York-Presbyterian Clinic/Weill Cornell Healthcare Heart, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann after the attack, claimed last 7 days that her degree of recovery was uncommon. Shes essentially standard, he mentioned.

Other professionals, who will be not personally acquainted with Ms. Kevorkian McCanns situation, are more cautious.

Regaining a chance to Participate in the piano could include an Practically mechanical method, a semiautomatic remember of what the fingers have to do, explained Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of medical rehabilitation medication at Ny University School of Medicine. Once Mind-wounded, you will be always brain-wounded, for the rest of your life, Dr. Ben-Yishay explained. There is no remedy, There's only intensive compensation.

The greater telling Element of a recovery, in his check out, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns marriage and baby as a major victory.

For her element, the piano Instructor is aware she has changed, but she has designed her peace with it. I had been form of a hyper —— I dont know if I was a Type A, but I was bold, she states. Why was I so bold? I used to be a piano Trainer. I dont know very well what the ambition was about. I really did come back to the person Im supposed to be.

[homestuckcanonconfirmer]

15 Up-and-Coming best keyboard for beginners

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tracks that she wrote over ten years ago, the lady who arrived to get acknowledged only because the piano teacher offered what, in hindsight, looks as if an eerie glimpse of her possess upcoming.

Im transferring absent now to a location so distant, exactly where nobody is familiar with my identify, she wrote from the lyrics of a music named Shifting.

When she wrote that music, she was young and vivacious, a piano Trainer and freelance music writer who liked Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Appears, lengthy walks and every thing about Big apple.

On one of those beloved walks, via Central Park in the intense Solar of a June day in 1996, a homeless drifter defeat her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to lifetime. Once the attack, the text to her song came real. She moved absent, from Ny city, away from her aged everyday living, and all but her closest good friends didn't know her name. To the remainder of the world, she was -- just like the extra well known jogger attacked in Central Park 7 decades previously -- an nameless symbol of the urban nightmare. She was the piano Trainer.

Now, within the 10th anniversary on the attack, she is celebrating what seems to be her whole recovery from Mind trauma. She is 42, married, with a little kid. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Trainer, and he or she wishes to convey to her Tale, her way.

Her medical doctor informed her it would consider 10 years to Get well, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I sense my life has long been redefined by Central Park, she explained numerous days back, her voice delicate and hopeful. Prior to park; just after park. Will there at any time be a time After i dont Imagine, Oh, This can be the 10th anniversary, the eleventh anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch household inside of a wooded subdivision in a very Ny suburb. She sat within a eating home strewn with toys, surrounded by photos of her cherubic, dark-haired 2-calendar year-outdated daughter. A Steinway grand stuffed fifty percent the home, and at one particular position she sat down and played. Her participating in was forceful, but she appeared humiliated to Engage in more than a few bars, and shrugged, in lieu of answering, when asked the name on the piece. She asked that her daughter and her town not be named.

She phone calls that day, June 4, 1996, the day Once i was harm.

Hers was the initial inside a string of attacks by exactly the same man on 4 Gals over 8 times. The final sufferer, Evelyn Alvarez, sixty five, was overwhelmed to Demise as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleaning store, and in the long run, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to existence in jail.

Yet the assault on the piano teacher may be the 1 persons look to keep in mind the most. Element of the fascination should do with echoes of the 1989 assault about the Central Park jogger. But Additionally, it frightened individuals in a way the assault to the jogger did not since its circumstances were being so mundane.

It did not take place inside of a distant Element of the park late at nighttime, but around a well known playground at three inside the afternoon. It could have occurred to anybody. The tension was heightened via the secret from the piano lecturers identification.

For 3 times, as police and Health professionals tried using to find out who she was, she lay inside a coma in her healthcare facility bed, nameless. Her moms and dads were being on family vacation and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Last but not least, one of her learners recognized a police sketch and was able to recognize her in the clinic by her fingers, due to the fact her face was swollen over and above recognition. The law enforcement did not release her name.

The last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is providing a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Avenue, then putting her long hair inside a ponytail and heading out for a stroll. She isn't going to don't forget the attack, Though she has read the accounts on the police and prosecutors.

To me its similar to a fact I learned and memorized, she claimed. As though I were a scholar in class learning background.

She does not consider the man who did it. I might need been angry for your moment, although not much longer than that, she said. How could I be offended at John Royster? He was declared not insane, but I guess by our criteria he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her medical doctor at Ny Healthcare facility-Cornell Professional medical Heart, as it was known in 1996, told reporters that she experienced a 10 % chance of survival. Medical practitioners experienced to get rid of her forehead bone, which was later replaced, to produce home for her swelling Mind. When her mother created a general public appeal to pray for my daughter, 1000's did.

Immediately after eight times, she arrived away from a coma, initially within a vegetative state, then within a childlike state. As she recovered, she slept small and talked continually, in some cases in gibberish. I had been obtaining mad at people when they didnt respond to these text, she claimed.

Like an Alzheimers patient, she experienced minor quick-time period memory and would ignore guests when they left the place.

Over a number of months, she had to relearn the best way to wander, dress, read through and compose. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, visited every single day to Participate in guitar for her. He inspired her to Engage in the piano, towards the advice of her Actual physical therapists, who thought she can be disappointed by her incapability to play the way she once experienced. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets along with her, enjoying the left-hand aspect even though she played the ideal.

Which was my finest therapy, she stated.

In August, she moved again home to New Jersey, together with her father, an engineer, and mother, a schoolteacher. She visited outdated haunts and named mates, making an attempt to revive her shattered memory. I was extremely obsessed with remembering, she said. Any memory decline was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists considered her development was great, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she were.

What bothered her most was that she had missing the ability to cry, just as if a faucet inside of her Mind were turned off. One particular night, 9 months after she was damage, she stayed up late to view the John Grisham Film A The perfect time to Eliminate. Just soon after her father experienced gone to bed, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on demo for killing two Adult males who had raped his younger daughter.

The faucet opened, and the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought about my moms and dads, my father, and whatever they went by, she reported. Small by small, my sensation returned, my depth of head returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back again to high school and got a masters degree in music education.

Not every thing went nicely. She and Mr. Scherr break up up five years following the attack, however they remain buddies. She dated other men, but she usually advised them about the assault instantly -- she couldn't help it, she stated -- plus they in no way identified as for just a 2nd day.

Now we have to discover you a person, her Mate David Phelps, a guitar player, said four many years ago, just before introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and novice drummer. For at the time, she did not say anything in regards to the attack until eventually she acquired to find out Mr. McCann, then when she did, he admired her toughness.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who had normally visited her at her bedside even though she was within the healthcare facility, married them in his Periods Sq. Workplace. She wore a blue gown and pearls. Though she was Expecting, in a burst of creativity, she and her friends recorded When Were being Younger, an album of childrens songs that she experienced written before the assault, such as the song Transferring. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, produced the CD. On it, her husband plays drums and she plays electrical piano.

Is her everyday living as it was? Not exactly, even though she's hesitant to attribute the dissimilarities to her accidents. Her final two piano pupils still left her, with out calling to clarify why, she reported. She has resumed participating in classical music, but basic items, because her daughter will not give her time and energy to follow. As for jazz, I dont even consider, she mentioned.

She would like to travel extra, sensation stranded from the suburbs, but she is well rattled. She attempts to be content material with staying dwelling and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a scientific professor of neurological surgery at what on earth is now referred to as NewYork-Presbyterian Clinic/Weill Cornell Clinical Middle, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann following the attack, claimed previous week that her standard of Restoration was rare. Shes basically typical, he mentioned.

Other industry experts, who are not personally aware of Ms. Kevorkian McCanns situation, tend to be more careful.

Regaining the opportunity to Participate in the piano may possibly entail an Pretty much mechanical system, a semiautomatic remember of what the fingers must do, stated Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of scientific rehabilitation medicine at New York University College of Medicine. As soon as brain-wounded, that you are generally brain-injured, for the rest of your lifetime, Dr. Ben-Yishay stated. There is no treatment, there is only intense compensation.

The greater telling Component of a Restoration, in his look at, is psychological, and on that rating he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns relationship and baby as a major victory.

For her section, the piano Instructor knows she has altered, but she has manufactured her peace with it. I was form of a hyper ---- I dont know if I was a Type A, but I used to be ambitious, she suggests. Why was I so formidable? I had been a piano Trainer. I dont know very well what the ambition was about. I actually did return to the person Im speculated to be.

Correction: June thirteen, 2006, Tuesday An short article on Thursday about Kyle Kevorkian McCann, a piano Instructor who was beaten and sexually assaulted ten years ago in Central Park, misstated the title of her album of childrens songs. It truly is Whilst Ended up Younger, not When Had been Younger.

[collecting-stories]

Trouble - Alfie Solomons

Request: I've literally read Kit forty million times over. Like I love it. You did such an amazing person and writer! I would love to see more dad!Alfie and the reader interacting w Kit more. Like... In a home environment after work and the reader low-key worrying about him and Alfie reassuring her. @thinkingsofamadwoman

Kit Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

"What's this one?" Alfie asked, pointing to a drawing of a ship. Kit had spent the entirety of the morning sitting out by the dock with you while Alfie was at work. Now all the sketches were laid out on the kitchen floor and Alfie was sitting crossed legged on the hardwood across from Kit, examining the six year old's handiwork.

"That's Ridley's houseboat." Kit pointed to the small stick-like rendering of the old man Ridley who lived in his boat.  

"Ah, of course..." Alfie replied, stroking his beard as if in thought.

"Mum says we can go to Sunderland." Kit stated, eyes trained on his pictures.  

"Sunderland?" He leaned back a little so that he could look through the doorway to the kitchen where you were preparing dinner, "Sunderland eh?"  

You came into view, standing in the threshold. When Alfie saw you he smiled. He hadn't gotten the chance to even say hello to you, immediately sitting with Kit and engaging him in conversation. Kit's speech was still slow and he stopped awkwardly in sentences but he was improving. Alfie tried to talk to him as much as possible and spend as much time with his son as he could. Sometimes that meant he hardly saw you until Kit was put to bed.

"There is a ship launch there in two months. It was in the newspaper and Kit would really like to go." You replied. You matched Alfie's smile.

"You're mum is killing me Kit." Alfie groaned, though he meant none of it. If Kit wanted to go to Sunderland to see a ship launch than he would go to Sunderland.  

Kit looked between you and Alfie, a bit confused as to whether his father was joking or not. Alfie, who saw the worried expression rushed to reassure his son that it was only him being funny, that neither you or he would ever hurt the other.  

"We'll go to Sunderland then?" Kit asked, looking over at Alfie.  

"Aye, Sunderland it is." Alfie replied. He laid back on the accent rug throwing his arm over his eyes. He listened as Kit began to tell him what the newspaper article had said.

It wasn’t until after dinner, once the kitchen was cleaned and Alfie had taken Kit upstairs for bed that you had an opportunity to sit down and relax. Today had been difficult. Kit had started out having a good day, he went to the market with you without Peg and didn’t stray far. He was happy about the ships and spent the whole walk home piecing together sentences about all the ships he'd seen. It was after he'd come in from playing with Peg that trouble had started.  

They'd been outside in the rain, splashing in puddles in the small back alley before coming inside for lunch. You'd made Kit take his shoes off because of the mud and then proceeded to tell him that Peg would have to stay outside until you could wash him.  

"No. Peg comes in with me." Kit insisted, holding tight to the dog's collar.  

Peg's fur was nearly caked in mud. All you could imagine was the mess you would be tasked with cleaning should any of that mud transfer into the house. "I'm sorry Kit, Peg's got to stay outside. Just till I can get the basin and wash him off."

"No!" Kit was more forceful this time, stomping his foot on the ground. "My dog my rules."

You cursed Alfie's constant argument of "my house my rules" as your son mimicked him now. "Kit, I'm sorry but I said that Peg stays outside so Peg stays outside."

"I said no!" Kit let go of Peg's collar and pushed you.  

At such a young age he certainly wasn’t stronger than you but the shock of being pushed surprised you quite a bit and you stumbled back into the bench. You caught yourself by sitting on the bench but that only made it easier for Kit.  

"Peg stays inside with me!" He shouted, throwing fists at you.  

You put your arms up to block your face as Kit hit you repeatedly. You thought about this temper showing itself when he was older and stronger than you. Alfie might be able to hold him off but you certainly wouldn’t be able to. The what if's of him becoming stronger, of you having another child, of Peg eventually passing, all came to you as he was hitting you repeatedly. As the opportunity presented itself you reached out and grabbed Kit's wrists.  

"You do not hit! I am your mum and what I say goes. And I say Peg stays outside until lunch is over." You stated, trying to sound as firm as you could. "Or you'll go up to your room!"  

You let Kit go and he stood there, the angry look on his face reminding you of Alfie. "Fine."

"Sit down and eat."

He was good the rest of the day. He helped you clean off Peg and then took his dog into the living room area. That was exactly where Alfie found him when he came home from work. You ate with the two of them in silence and watched Alfie take your son up to sleep but never mentioned the incident at lunch. Now in the quiet of the kitchen you sat down at the table and put your head in your hands.

"What's the matter love?" Alfie asked, coming into the kitchen. He stood on the other side of the kitchen table, watching you.  

"Nothing. Just...tired." You shook your head and stood up.  

Alfie put his arm out to block you when you tried to walk passed him. "Alfie, let me go to bed."

"Nah love, I'm not that smart but I know when something's wrong." He replied.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Come on, just sit and have some tea with me."  

"I don't want any." You replied, pulling away from him.  

Alfie reached out to you again but you stepped away from him. "I said I'm fine Alf."

"I'm just worried about you."

"Well there's nothing to worry about. You can just go to work in the morning like always and leave me here to deal with Kit all day long. It's perfectly fine!" You sounded as defiant as Kit had earlier.

Alfie moved to the door, standing in the threshold and blocking you from being able to leave the kitchen. He didn't look angry, more so upset. "Alright, what the fuck's happened?"

"Nothing, just let me pass."

"No."

The sound of the word nearly had you exploding at him. You groaned and threw your arms up angrily. "Fine, I'm not alright Alfie. I told your son Peg couldn’t come in the house and he started hitting me."

"Surely he's not strong enough to hurt you."

"Alfie!" You shouted. "That's not the point. What if some day he is old enough to hurt me and I can't stop him?"

"Hey, hey," Alfie reached out and grabbed your shoulders. "I would never let anyone hurt you. Especially not our kid. Kit loves you yeah, you're his whole world. What's different this time?"  

This wasn’t the first time that Kit had lost his temper. "I don't know. I was just startled I guess." You replied though that wasn’t the truth.

"I love you alright? And so does our son." Alfie replied and kissed your forehead.

"I love you both."  

You weren't going to tell Alfie, you had decided that two weeks ago when you'd gone to the doctors. You were going to wait until you were sure that you could handle Kit. You loved your son but you were afraid of bringing another child into this world if Kit's temper continued to show itself in his physical actions. But more than that you didn't want to have another baby and not have enough time to devote to your son. He was the more important than any other child you could dream up.  

So you said nothing to Alfie. Just let him hug you and attempt to reassure you that everything would be alright.  

I’m just gonna make this a series now. This bit is a little sad but it will continue with domestic fluff in the future. 

[hongbab]

Let me be your canvas - Wonshik thinks he’s probably smiling, because Jaehwan apparently smiles a lot and Wonshik, a brooding, always negative and anxious person, thinks it’s like a breath of fresh air seeing Jaehwan smile so easily at everything. (Ravi/Ken, g, 2590 w)

a/n: written for this prompt. i hope you’ll like it, anon!! ♥️ also, i wrote this on my phone and typeset the whole thing on it as well so pls excuse me if it looks weird;;

Wonshik didn’t really know what he should have expected when he called Sanghyuk to book an appointment at the shop, but this was definitely not it.

Not him, really.

Sanghyuk did tell him that they hired a new artist after Jaeeun had gone on maternity leave, and he also told him the new artist was called Jaehwan, supposedly an amazing professional, but, for some reason, Wonshik imagined a burly, hairy guy with too many piercings in weird parts of his face and maybe tattoos on his eyelids, and now, as he looks into Jaehwan’s eyes, he feels unable to say a thing.

“Hey,” Jaehwan smiles with the whitest teeth Wonshik has ever seen, his plump lips stretching way too wide on his small, hairless, piercingless face. “I’m Jaehwan.” He reaches out to shake Wonshik’s hand, his bony fingers smeared with charcoal. Wonshik looks down at his hand, blinking. “And you are Wonshik, right?”

“Yeah. Wonshik.”

He hears Sanghyuk snort behind the reception counter and Wonshik feels his face heat up, embarrassment washing over him in waves as Jaehwan’s smile becomes brighter.

“Shall we?” Jaehwan asks and starts walking to his corner of the shop, sitting down on a chair that used to be Jaeeun’s, patting the other one next to him. “Take a seat.”

Wonshik does as he is told, eyes not leaving Jaehwan.

“So, you told Sanghyuk you’d like a hollyhock on your shoulder blade, right?” Jaehwan asks, turning a page in his sketchbook, hiding what seems to be a cutely drawn kitten from Wonshik. “I did have to look that one up,” Jaehwan laughs softly, kindly. “I’m not very well-educated about flowers.” He taps a little on his tablet, bringing out a picture of some hollyhocks, taking his charcoal into his right hand and starting to work on a sketch.

“It means ambition,” Wonshik croaks out and when Jaehwan glances up at him, Wonshik suddenly averts his eyes. “I mean, a hollyhock.”

“They also mean fertility,” Jaehwan says, chuckling at the way Wonshik freezes up. “So it says on Wikipedia, anyway. It’s because they leave behind a disc before they die, so you can plant the seeds contained in it. And, did you know they were used for curing a lot of diseases back in the middle ages?”

Wonshik did, but he listens to Jaehwan go on and on about the medicinal uses of hollyhocks, how they supposedly cured lung diseases and constipation and ulcers and bleeding, how they were said to be able to break up kidney stones and fight lung problems.

He watches Jaehwan draw, trying to look less shameful than he feels while he eyes his appearance. All his tattoo artist acquaintances (most of whom he knows from this particular shop) wear dark clothes and their bodies are covered in tattoos, but Jaehwan is sitting next to him in a simple baby pink T-shirt and stone washed denim shorts, a black choker wrapped tightly around his neck. Wonshik might be thinking in stereotypes, but the only evidence for Jaehwan not minding the ink beneath his skin are the tiny feather just under his pointy left ear, and the small bird on the inner side of his wrist. He looks too delicate for all of this.

“Wonshik?” Jaehwan asks and his question echoes weirdly in Wonshik’s ears, like he’s hearing it while standing in a valley, Jaehwan’s voice bouncing off the surrounding peaks. “Earth to Wonshik,” Jaehwan says, Wonshik’s name rolling off his plush lips like a spell as he smiles slowly, “are you okay?”

“Um, yeah,” Wonshik mumbles and looks up into Jaehwan’s eyes. “Sorry, I’m… sleepy.”

“Maybe we should do it at a different time if you’re tired,” Jaehwan says, his hands falling away from his sketchbook.

“No!” Wonshik exclaims and he feels heat rising in his cheeks as Jaehwan’s ears prick up at the sharp sound. “I mean, I’m fine, can I— can I take a look at it?”

He fingers the edge of the sketchbook and when Jaehwan nods, he pulls it in his lap, eyeing the single hollyhock on it, the petals too realistically frayed for a quick sketch. There are small leaves and some curly tendrils around the flower, making it look a lot more artistic than just a simple image of a plant and Wonshik… he’s not sure if he likes it.

“Isn’t this, well, a little too feminine?” he asks, trying not to sound too rude but still trying to convey his wish for the tendrils and leaves to disappear. “I mean, if it were just the flower itself, without all the… green stuff…”

“Feminine?” Jaehwan laughs, his chuckles ringing in the air like the soft sounds of a wind chime. He reaches out, his fingers wrapping around Wonshik’s wrist and Wonshik’s eyes almost pop out of his skull at the sudden touch, but Jaehwan won’t pull his warm hand away. “You’re about to have the image of a flower sewn into your skin; if you think the leaves make it more feminine—”

“I’m just saying,” Wonshik huffs, a little miffed from being laughed at, “it looks… cuter, I think, than most of my other tats.”

“I think it’ll look really pretty on your skin,” Jaehwan says, eyes clear and sincere and crinkling at the corners. “Can I just put the stencil on your shoulder blade? And you’ll see if you think it still looks bad—”

“It doesn’t look bad, that’s not what I said, I—”

“—you’ll see if you want the leaves or not, okay?” Jaehwan turns back to the desk, taking out a sheet of transfer paper and a fine tipped pen, pulling the sketchbook out of Wonshik’s grip. “Trust me.”

Wonshik doesn’t know if he shuts his mouth because he hates conflicts or because he’s really curious or simply because Jaehwan’s lips are too pretty as they form the words ‘trust’ and ‘me’, but he stays silent as Jaehwan works.

Wonshik doesn’t realize that Jaehwan is done with the stencil until Jaehwan lets go of the pen, his knobby fingers dropping it on the desktop.

“Could you please…?” Jaehwan motions towards Wonshik’s T-shirt while pulling on a pair of rubber gloves.

“Oh. Yeah.”

He takes the hem between his fingers and suddenly he feels self-conscious; he’s never been too confident about his body, and even though he’s been working out very diligently lately, his muscles starting to get sculpted, he still hasn’t reached his goal and he feels awkward as he pulls his shirt over his head, keeping it in his lap. He hears Jaehwan pull his chair closer to Wonshik’s, spraying the cold disinfectant on Wonshik’s skin, making him hiss.

“Sorry,” Jaehwan says, sounding much like he’s smiling.

He wipes at Wonshik’s skin with a paper towel and then smears something creamy on it, the paper rustling behind his back as Jaehwan presses it against his shoulder blade, his gloved fingertips almost caressing the surface as he tries to even it out.

There are goosebumps on Wonshik’s back even as he feels Jaehwan’s body heat on it, too aware of all the small moles there, thinks, what if they form a weird shape?

But Jaehwan doesn’t comment on the moles as he takes the paper off Wonshik’s skin and stands up, saying “I’m done,” as he tugs at Wonshik’s elbow gently, making him stand with him, keeping his fingers on Wonshik’s arm as he guides him to the full body mirror, only letting go of him to shove a smaller makeup mirror into his hand.

“What do you think?” Jaehwan asks, his eyes searching Wonshik’s face as the latter holds up the mirror and alignes it so he can see his own back. The placement is perfect, just how Wonshik wanted, and he imagines the outlines filled with colour: soft purple on the petals and green on the leaves and tendrils, and he takes a deep breath.

“Okay,” he says against his better judgement because this is the first time he’s meeting Jaehwan but the boy is looking up at him expectantly and Wonshik wants to see him smile again. He doesn’t want to hurt Jaehwan and that’s probably stupid, especially that he’s risking the appearance of his own body here, but he has a few cover-up tats already and they look pretty neat. If he doesn’t like it in the end, he can just get it fixed, though obviously not by Jaehwan… “Okay,” he says again. “Let’s do this.”

“Really?” Jaehwan asks, surprised, and when Wonshik lowers the makeup mirror, Jaehwan is beaming up at him, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “It’ll look so beautiful on you, I promise!”

Wonshik grins, sucked in by Jaehwan’s infinitely deep gaze only for a beat before Jaehwan strides back to his working corner, turning around the chair Wonshik sat on a few minutes ago so Wonshik can hunch over the backrest.

“So, Wonshik,” Jaehwan starts while fumbling around on the desk for his tools. “Tell me about yourself.”

Wonshik’s face contorts and he’s happy Jaehwan can’t see it. He went over this with Jaeeun as well, and it was as awkward as a conversation can be, mainly because he’s an awfully dull guy with awfully dull hobbies and even more boring stories-–if he has any real stories, that is.

“I… don’t really have much to tell,” he mumbles and the tattoo machine starts whirring, the first pinprick tearing through his skin, and Wonshik’s muscles tense up, though he knows better than to move. The pain isn’t pleasant but it’s comforting, something Wonshik knows how to handle unlike the fact that he’s sitting with his back to a gorgeous boy who’s probably trying to have small talk with him only because he wants to distract him, not knowing that Wonshik has a sadistic kind of liking for the tattoo machine wounding him.

“Everyone has a story to tell,” Jaehwan mutters, probably concentrating. Wonshik imagines him pursing his lips and that makes him want to squirm, but he stays still.

“I dropped out of university,” Wonshik admits, his heartrate picking up from shame like it always does whenever he brings up the topic. “I dropped out so I can focus on songwriting,” he laughs to ease the tension, but Jaehwan isn’t laughing with him. “It’s not going very well.”

“I think that’s great,” Jaehwan replies quietly, wiping away excess ink and, Wonshik figures, blood. “I wish I had the guts to follow my dreams.”

“What are your dreams?” Wonshik asks and he wants to turn around, wants to see Jaehwan’s eyes sparkle the way they did when Wonshik told him he’d like to get his version of a hollyhock on his skin.

“I’ve been dreaming of becoming a singer since I was small,” Jaehwan says, “but I don’t have enough talent to become successful, so I’m kind of just here, doodling on other people’s bodies.” He suddenly laughs and the tattoo machine stops whirring until his laughter dies down. “Don’t get me wrong, I like doodling on other people’s bodies, but, you know…”

“It’s not what sparks the fire in you,” Wonshik finishes it for him but feels stupid, because it all made a lot more sense in his head. “I mean, that’s how I think of my dream of becoming a popular songwriter, so-–”

“That’s the best way to put it,” Jaehwan says, tearing at Wonshik’s skin again. “Your songs must be amazing if you put such cool stuff into the lyrics.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” Wonshik grumbles.

“Absolutely not,” Jaehwan replies. “I’d like to hear your songs someday. Maybe they’ll inspire me enough to pursue my dream. And who knows, if you become a well-known songwriter and I, a well-known singer, we might even work together.”

“That’d be…” Wonshik clears his tight-feeling throat. “That’d be awesome.”

Jaehwan doesn’t say more but Wonshik thinks he’s probably smiling, because Jaehwan apparently smiles a lot and Wonshik, a brooding, always negative and anxious person, thinks it’s like a breath of fresh air seeing Jaehwan smile so easily at everything.

Jaehwan finishes up the tattoo without saying anything apart from ‘almost done’s and ‘just one more line’s and Wonshik endures, feeling a little stiff when Jaehwan finally tells him he can stand up and take a look at it.

Wonshik stands in front of the full body mirror again with the smaller one in his hands and Jaehwan is watching him expectantly once more, chewing on his lower lip nervously, looking smaller than before. The flower is incredibly vivid on Wonshik’s shoulder blade, like he stuck a real one there, with the leaves and all. It’s beautifully done, not quite like a tattoo but like a painting and Wonshik tries to imagine it without the green stuff, but can’t quite form the picture in his head–-it looks perfect.

“It looks perfect,” he whispers and glances down at Jaehwan, at his big, shiny eyes forming crescent moons and at the way he pulls his shoulders up to his ears like a puppy awaiting treats. “Looks perfect,” Wonshik says again and loses control over himself, placing a hand on Jaehwan’s cheek and kissing his smile that starts faltering under his mouth. Jaehwan’s lips are warm and soft but they close on the kiss and he pulls back with fluttery eyelids.

“You could’ve asked me out on a coffee date first,” he says and he probably sees the embarrassment on Wonshik’s face because he starts laughing, patting Wonshik’s hand on his cheek. Wonshik quickly pulls it back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–- I just, you–- the tattoo’s really pretty and I–-” he rambles but then Jaehwan presses his index finger to Wonshik’s mouth.

“Shh,” he says, grinning. “I’ll tape you up and we can go get that coffee.”

Wonshik feels like he’ll puke an entire freaking rainbow, his insides turning into knots that can’t possibly be unravelled, not by him, anyway.

Jaehwan puts the protecting foil on the fresh tattoo and fixes it with some tape, putting on a pair of cheap black plastic sunglasses while Wonshik gets dressed, putting on his own similarly cheap black plastic sunglasses. Jaehwan must find the matching style amusing because he smiles again, curling his pinkie around Wonshik’s and pulling him towards the front door of the shop.

“What the hell?” Sanghyuk asks indignantly.

“I have no more guests for today,” Jaehwan says, not even stopping to listen. “I’m done for today, Sanghyuk-ah!”

“But–- Wonshik, you haven’t even paid yet!” Sanghyuk yells, but then the door closes behind Wonshik and they can’t hear Sanghyuk’s protests anymore.

“You can pay me in coffee,” Jaehwan says, tugging Wonshik forward, walking quickly, maybe so Sanghyuk won’t be able to catch up even if he wants to chase them. “It’s going to be around 25 cups of secret menu items at Starbucks.”

Wonshik barks out a laugh and Jaehwan looks at him surprised, arching his perfectly shaped eyebrows. Wonshik stops in his tracks and yanks Jaehwan back with him by the pinkie, fidgeting awkwardly.

“Does that mean,” he starts, “that you’re asking me out on 25 coffee dates?”

“I also accept cash, coffee coupons, and I once drank 18 cups a day, so don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jaehwan chirps and then smiles kindly at Wonshik. “You songwriters are so mushy.”

Wonshik wants to retort but then Jaehwan stands on tiptoe and presses a short kiss to his cheek, continuing on their way, pulling Wonshik after him.

Wonshik laughs again, the knots untangling inside him as he follows Jaehwan.

[nc-ten-scenarios]

Request: Hiya:) can I request a Johnny fluff where he gets his first tattoo as his birthday gift. And you start teasing him because he was whining about how much it hurts? Please Thank you 😊✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another day another dollar was the motto of Seoul tattoos, a hidden gem among the Gangnam area. You started working there at the age of 18 starting off at a decent wage, but quickly working your way up through the ranks and landing yourself in the top five tattoo artist in your area.

The shop you worked in wasn’t very big, only having room for about 7 artists in total. Not a ton of availability, especially for you. Yes being in the top five was an incredible achievement, especially with you only being a couple of ears into the business, but it came with the not so great perks. Being booked months upon months in advance, sketching designs non-stop for customers day in and day out, waking up at the ass crack of dawn to finish a sketch, buying tons of erasers, pencils, paper, and markers because of how many of each you’ve gone through. It was exhausting in a way, but it was all worth it because of the immense satisfaction you got when the colors were blended and lines were smooth pulling together the design and the customers smile and words “I love it” were what made it all worth it.

~~~

“Hey y/n how are you? Long morning?” Your coworker and good friend josh greeted you as he came in for his afternoon clients. Josh wasn’t your typical tattoo artist guy. Sure he was over six foot and had plenty of tattoos visible that gave him the majority over your own tattoos, but beneath the ‘tough’ exterior was a literal puppy. He looks intimidating, but equals like a little girl when he’s scared and 'secretly’ loves cats and chihuahuas. In a summary he’s a huge fluff ball and softy.

“Good afternoon josh it’s been going well thanks for asking. Had three clients just this morning and I got one more this afternoon before I get to go home and relax.” You replied flashing him a quick million watt smile before glancing back down at the sketch pad of your nearly complete design.

“I thought you had that done weeks ago. You k ow when he scheduled it?” Josh peered over your shoulder to glance at the magnificent sketch you had created for your afternoon client.

You shrugged. “I thought so too. But you know me always not satisfied. I’m just adding a few more details to really tie it together you know?”

“Yeah I know miss precision.” He folder his eyes before sauntering off into the employee room.

You heard the distinct crinkle of your bag of snacks from the employee room.

“Josh dont you even think about it!” You shouted as his head popped out form the doorway and a pot already adorning his lips.

“Aww please y/n? I just want one snack!” He whined loudly causing you to roll your eyes at his dramatic facade.

“Fine! But just one bag I’m saving those for tomorrow!”

A squeal left his lips as he proceeded to rip the bag open and steal a small bag of chips before prancing down the hall to his station.

You sighed at his weirdness before turning back to your sketch to add the last couple of pencil strokes.

You had just set your pencil down when the bell on the door dinged making you aware of the client now inside the parlor.

“I’ll be with you in a minute.” You announced before ducking behind your station to grab your client book. You popped back up, book in hand, and proceeded to walk toward the waiting area all while flipping through the book to your afternoon appointment. Your eyes scanned the page until the landed on that one name that was scheduled for 3 o'clock pm.

No. Way.

You blinked a few times at the name scribbled on your page, thinking you had misread it. You counted to three eyes closed and opened them and yup the name was still the same.

Sprawled out in neat handwriting was Johnny Seo aka your ex-boyfriend. You two hadn’t ended in bad terms per say. They just weren’t ideal terms. Long story short you had dated before his debut and when he did debut he was forced to break up with you and you haven’t talked since. To be accurate it’s been only a few months since the break up, but it was still fresh in your mind the way he had asked you to meet at your favorite cafe as a couple one evening. You could tell he was nervous as his hand were wrung together on the table and his eyes wouldn’t meet yours. You remember the way you placed your hand in top of his, trying to get his eyes to meet yours and when he finally did, you could tell something was gonna happen. He took a deep breath and told you straight up “Y/n we need to break up. Management thinks I would be more appealing if I was on the market.” The shock you felt was unbelievable. Your emotions just went numb as you released his hands as if the words he said were a force shoving you back. His eyes stared into yours in sorrow silence, waiting for you to say something. You stayed silent processing the information before standing up flashing a weak smile that said it’s okay as he tried To apologize and you turns and walked out of the cafe not looking back. Once you had gotten home the waterworks switch flipped as the realization of being in a relationship was gone, shattered to pieces like your heart.

Back to the present your head snapped up to see the same lovely smile adorning his lips as he looked back at you.

'Don’t smile at me.’ You thought. 'It’s only going to make me realize my feeling I still have for you.’

You cleared your throat, forcing the lump down and flashing a million dollar smile that could fool anyone. “Mr. Seo, 3 o'clock appointment?” You surprised even yourself with how strong your voice came out.

Johnny nodded his head in affirmation before you gestured for him to follow you back to your station.

You sat down in your artist chair before motioning for him to sit across from you in the client chair. “Okay Mr. Seo first tattoo in black and white, no filling, no color. Is that correct?”

Johnny nodded an affirmative again hoping you would just look up at him.

“Me. Seo I’m gonna need your ID and would. You like to pay now or later?” You busied yourself with grabbing the calculator for price and your other notebook full of transactions.

Johnny didn’t reply, he just stared at you. How did you the girl who was so bubbly and bright and absolutely hated formalities form into the girl you were now?

You waited for a response that wouldn’t come. You sighed as you mentally counted to three before looking up and seeing johnny’s intense stare directed at you. You two had a stare down until he finally broke the silence.

“What’s with the formalities? You never called me or anyone by their last name or surname before. What’s changed? Where’d my y/n go?” He whispered staring intently into your eyes not allowing you to look away and face the question head on.

“I’m in a work place Mr. Seo and I always use formalities with a client-”

“No you don’t. You’ve never used formalities with a client because you make them feel comfortable. So why are you using them now on me? We’re still friends y/n.” He cut you off.

You sighed knowing he wouldn’t let you continue until you called him by his real name and you wanted to be out of the parlor by 5.

“Johnny. Can we please just get to the tattoo-”

“Say it again.” He interrupted once agin.

You blinked owlishly at him. “What?”

“Say it again. Sag my name again.” He repeated.

“Johnny I don’t have time for this. I need your ID and form of pay please so I can start on your tattoo.” You turns to grab your notebook and when you spun back to face him a grin was adorning his features in the most adorable way. Without a word he grabbed his wallet handing you his card and ID watching as you scanned them before returning them to him. You went to return your notebook but felt a grip on your hand, soft but firm, hold you there.

A thumb caressed the back of your hand slowly as if he was transferring he feeling of your skin to his memory to cherish.

You slowly pulled your hand free from his grip and returned your supplies before grabbing the stencil and laying it on his arm, the place where he desired the design to be. You slipped York gloves on and filled the machine with black ink to start. You made sure the needle was working before taking a peek at Johnny’s face that was trying to be calm. You smiled lightly as he tried to act tough before laying a gently gloved covered hand in his arm.

“Johnny are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Why?”

“Well I haven’t even started and you are starting to look nervous. Are you sure you want to do this? You know it’s there forever.”

“Yeah I’m sure. Now or never right?”

You grinned at his facade before patting his arm and starting up the machine to start tattooing. You brought the needle closer to his arm before glancing up as his face seeing his eyes squeezed shut waiting for the unavoidable pain. You quickly reached behind you grabbing your blue stress ball and leaving it in his palm. His eyes opened at the feeling of a squishy object in his hand and he turns to you with a confused expression.

“It’s to help distract you from the pain. Squeeze as hard as you would like. I’m gonna start now alright?” You said watching as he nodded and rested his head back before inhaling and exhaling deeply to calm down.

With his affirmative you whirred up the machine and began to tattoo his desired design onto his skin.

~~~ “All done.” You announced as you took a cloth and began to wipe off the remaining ink and blood that wasn’t supposed to be there.

“It’s over?” Johnny questioned eyes opening.

You glanced up at his face and was surprised to see his eyes rimmed light red and the tears misting about. You took off your gloves and reached up to wipe at his eyes to clear the tears.

“It’s over. You made it through Johnny. How do you like it?” You asked as you grabbed a mirror to show him the finished design.

“Wow it’s incredible. Thank you y/n.” He gawked at the mirror hand hovering over the design.

You gently grabbed his hand and moved it away form the red skin before wrapping the tattoo and handing him instruction on what to do for the next week.

“Make sure you don’t get it wet for a few days then wash it after the third day. Put this cream on it afterwards and don’t put it in salt water. Come back if you have any problems okay?” You questioned ha ding him the bag of things he needs to ensure it healed properly.

He nodded and stood up. “I will. But what if I don’t understand what to do?”

“Then you can come back in or call one of us.” You replied wiping your hands on your jeans.

“So I can call you? You didn’t change horn number right?” He asked slyly.

You shook your head no a slight smile crawling onto your lips.

“Well then miss y/l/n how about some dinner then? I know I was your last appointment and I kept you longer than you should’ve stayed. Let me make it up to you.” He flashed his million watt smile at you that you couldn’t resist.

“What’s with the formalities Seo? I thought you didn’t like them?” You teased as he grinned at your playful tone before leaning down to your height.

“Thought I’d make it fair and use them in you. So how bout dinner? I’ll pay.” He held his arm out to you.

You rolled your eyes playfully before closing down your station and grabbing your purse before spinning back toward the awaiting male. You grinned mischievously before sauntering in his direction, walking past his form and out the door before turning slightly to see his gobsmacked expression.

“You coming or what? I’m starving Seo.” You teased slyly watching as he laughed before bounding after your form, linking arms and heading to dinner just like the old times.

~Nik

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

The One, part 4

Jim Kirk x Reader

Warnings: angst, a little twist at the end of this one

Summary: It had been years since you had last since Jimmy. The two of you were highschool sweethearts, until you parted ways. After a horrible breakup with your two timing ex-fiance, you transfer to the U.S.S Enterprise. Finally coming face to face with the boy you left behind. Can the two of you work alongside each other in peace? Or will the past come back to haunt you?

The One Masterlist

“They should call you the Meddling Doctor, ” you teased Leonard. The two of you were comparing reports on your PADDs and he had mentioned yet again what had happened nearly a week ago.

“I'm just asking, I can ask questions right? This is my Medbay, or has Jim transferred the duties to someone far less qualified?”

You snorted and placed the PADD down, “What do you want me to say? That I completely embarrassed myself in front of my fellow crew mates? Or that I'm pretty certain Jim hates me? Because that is all just fine and dandy, Lee.”

He rolled his eyes, “You are being over dramatic. Jim doesn't hate you.”

“Well he should,” you muttered under your breath.

Bones gave you a long and hard look, before opening his mouth once again. “So you covered up some silly tattoo. You've said it yourself, it's been years since the two of you were together.”

“So he told you about the tattoo,” you perked up and smiled slyly at the doctor.

“What can I say? I'm just so easy to talk to,” Leonard grinned and you rolled your eyes. “But come on darlin’, what happened between the two of you?”

“Bones,” you warned pushing away from counter and toward the patient in bed 2. Thinking the relentless doctor was done interrogating you, you proceeded to look over the woman in the bed. Until Leonard came up behind you and started pestering you some more.

“Are you speaking on behalf of Jim? Or is it pure curiosity? Because you do what know happened to the cat, right?”

Leonard let out a rough huff and followed you away from the patient, “I'm not going to meow for you, but sure out of pure curiosity.”

You walked over to one of the empty beds and sat on the edge of it, “I'm only going to say this once, so listen up.”

The handsome doctor stood in front of you, hands crossed against his chest waiting for you to go on.  

“We were 17, Lee. Kids. I had left for the summer for an art program and well, I never came back.”

“Jesus, so you left Jim behind? Didn't even tell him?”

You winced at his words, because the truth hurt. But you had your reasons. “I did and that's why he hates me.”

Leonard stood quiet for a moment, adding things up in his head until he slowly shook his head. “That can't be just it, you're not telling me something.”

You sighed and ran a hand over your face. Standing up from the bed, you patted a hand onto Leonard’s shoulder. “Somethings are better left unsaid, we all have our secrets Lee. Just leave it alone, please.”

“So she thinks I hate her?” Jim scoffed and leaned against Leonard’s desk. His friend leaned back into his chair and shrugged.

“That’s what she told me, said that some things were better left unsaid. That everyone had their secrets. And then she told me to drop it.”

Jim’s eyes darted to the doctor, “Secrets?”

“Secrets.” Bones repeated, his hand opened the bottom draw of his desk. Jim watched his friend pull out a bottle of whiskey and two small glasses. “You look like you need a drink.”

“Thanks, Bones,” Jim reached down for his drink and quickly took an extra long sip. The drink ran smoothly down his throat and he let out a soft ‘ah’ before nodding to Leonard.  “What secrets?”

“How am I supposed to know? You’re the one that was with her.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t understand,” Jim’s eyes peered down into his drink, he whooshed the alcohol around and wondered where it all went wrong.

“What do you mean you’re not coming back!” Jim’s panic voice hit your ears harshly, tears welled up in your eyes. He was staring at you in disbelief, his eyes scanned your face for evidence of humor.

“I'm sorry, Jim. It’s just this place is great and they said I had real talent,” you summoned up a smile and tried to shrug it off. You were dreading this video call for weeks and now this was it.

“But you’ll be back eventually, right?” His face lit up in hope as he brushed hair from his handsome face.You could almost feel his touch on you and it killed you. 

Your lips trembled and you wished you could tell him the truth. That you didn’t want to stay, that you wanted to rush home. Right into his arms. But you were scared, terrified.

“I-I don’t know. Maybe, someday,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand.

Jim stood there in silence as his heart dropped hard. What did he do? He must have done something to drive you away, to make you want stay away. He ran a million different moments the two of you had through his head, trying to find the one that made you change your mind. That changed the way you felt about him.

“What did I do?”

“Oh god,” you stuttered pulling back a sob, Jim ran a hand over his face. “Jim it’s not that, I want to be here. I need to be here.”

“You were always a terrible liar,” he laughed dryly. He wanted to be strong, he was strong. “Listen, just have fun. Work hard. Call me in a few weeks. I’ll be here.”

You wiped the tears from your eyes and took a deep breath, “Okay. I have to go now.”

“Alright,” Jim’s voice cracked as he said goodbye. But then he steadied his face and smiled brightly at you. He leaned forward and stared right into your eyes. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Jim. Bye.”

Jim took another sip of the smooth whiskey and thought of that video call, because it was the last time he saw your face. He had lost you for good and he never knew why. And now you were here, nearly 13 years later. For the life of him, Jim could not get over the fact that you decided to board his ship. To transfer knowing he was the Captain. Was it like you said? That you had the desire to be on the best ship in the Fleet? Were you just running away from a cheating ex? Or did you come back for unfinished business?

“Maybe I’m playing myself, Bones,” Jim glanced over to the man, his eyes somber and light. “It has been a long time, we hardly know each other now.”

“That’s all true.”

“Exactly, I’ve gone all these years without thinking much of her,” Jim’s eyes caught Leonard’s unconvinced smile, “Okay, so I thought about her, but she obviously has moved on. So I will too.”

“If you say so,” Leonard finished his drink and stood up from his seat. “Maybe you should start by filling in that little tattoo of yours.”

Jim smirked setting his empty glass down. “I suppose so.”

You stood on the observation deck, staring out into the vast darkness. The stars were so different from up here, you felt homesick. You thought about your parents and if they were okay. You probably should call them soon. Sighing you grip the sketch pad in your hand and flipped it open, you landed on a small sketch. A pair of mesmerizing blue eyes smiled up at you, a pouty little mouth and cute little dimples. You grinned and bit down on your lip.

“I should have never came here,” you whispered to no one. Tears fell down your face, so you moved closer to the window and pressed a hand on the glass. You should have stayed on the USS Inquisitor, but instead you ran away. Ran away from Ranin and his cheating, just like you ran away from Jim. You were cowardly and this time age was not a factor, you couldn’t put the blame on being a sullen teenager. It was time to face the past, to tell the truth. No matter how badly it stung and pained you, it was no longer easy to hold on to. The truth was baring down on you, crushing everything inside you. It needed to be released.

Leonard strolled into the SickBay, assigning a few tasks to the nurses on duty. He took his cup of coffee and walked over to where he had left his PADD, but there were two. He groaned because the other was most likely yours. Setting his cup down he grabbed one of the PADDs and turned it on, it was not his. He flipped through the report, wondering what patient report you were looking over. It was a medical history, intrigued the doctor went through it contently, humming away until something caught his eye. A single line in the report.

Stardate 2250:  Gave birth to healthy male.

Leonard quickly scrolled up to the top of the report, trying to figure out who the medical history belonged to. His heart pounded away and he hoped it wasn’t who he thought. But sure enough when he reached the top, your name was right there.

Secrets, he thought. We all have secrets.

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[woodsens]

best portable keyboard

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tunes that she wrote greater than a decade back, the girl who came to get recognized only since the piano teacher offered what, in hindsight, seems like an eerie glimpse of her possess long term.

Im relocating away today to an area so far away, wherever no one is familiar with my title, she wrote inside the lyrics of a track referred to as Transferring.

When she wrote that music, she was youthful and vivacious, a piano Trainer and freelance music writer who cherished Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Appears, extended walks and every thing about Big apple.

On a type of beloved walks, as a result of Central Park in the bright sun of a June working day in 1996, a homeless drifter beat her and made an effort to rape her, leaving her clinging to daily life. Following the assault, the words and phrases to her track came true. She moved absent, from Ny city, outside of her aged lifetime, and all but her closest buddies did not know her identify. To the remainder of the earth, she was — such as the extra well known jogger attacked in Central Park seven several years earlier — an nameless symbol of an urban nightmare. She was the piano Trainer.

Now, about the tenth anniversary with the attack, she is celebrating what seems to be her comprehensive recovery from brain trauma. She is 42, married, with a small little one. She is Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Trainer, and he or she wishes to tell her story, her way.

Her health practitioner informed her it might just take 10 years to recover, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I really feel my existence has long been redefined by Central Park, she explained various days ago, her voice smooth and hopeful. Prior to park; immediately after park. Will there ever be a time Once i dont Consider, Oh, this is the 10th anniversary, the eleventh anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch residence within a wooded subdivision inside of a Big apple suburb. She sat inside a eating area strewn with toys, surrounded by images of her cherubic, darkish-haired 2-calendar year-previous daughter. A Steinway grand stuffed half the home, and at a single stage she sat down and performed. Her actively playing was forceful, but she appeared ashamed to Engage in various bars, and shrugged, instead of answering, when asked the title on the piece. She questioned that her daughter and her town not be named.

She phone calls that working day, June 4, 1996, the working day Once i was hurt.

Hers was the first within a string of attacks by a similar gentleman on four Gals more than eight days. The last sufferer, Evelyn Alvarez, sixty five, was beaten to Demise as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleaning store, and eventually, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to lifestyle in prison.

Nonetheless the assault to the piano Trainer is definitely the a single persons appear to keep in mind one of the most. Component of the fascination has got to do with echoes of the 1989 attack over the Central Park jogger. But it also frightened people in a method the attack about the jogger didn't simply because its instances ended up so mundane.

It didn't happen inside of a distant Element of the park late in the evening, but near a well-liked playground at 3 in the afternoon. It could have took place to any individual. The stress was heightened by the mystery on the piano instructors id.

For three times, as law enforcement and Health professionals experimented with to discover who she was, she lay in the coma in her hospital mattress, anonymous. Her dad and mom ended up on getaway and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Last but not least, amongst her students acknowledged a police sketch and was in a position to recognize her from the medical center by her fingers, for the reason that her experience was swollen further than recognition. The law enforcement did not release her identify.

The very last thing she remembers about June 4, 1996, is giving a lesson in her studio apartment on West 57th Road, then Placing her long hair inside a ponytail and likely out for any walk. She doesn't bear in mind the attack, Though she has read the accounts in the law enforcement and prosecutors.

To me its similar to a actuality I realized and memorized, she reported. Like I had been a pupil at school researching heritage.

She does not contemplate The person who did it. I might need been angry for the minute, but not for much longer than that, she explained. How could I be angry at John Royster? He was declared not insane, but I assume by our criteria he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her medical doctor at Big apple Healthcare facility-Cornell Medical Middle, as it was acknowledged in 1996, instructed reporters that she experienced a 10 % potential for survival. Physicians had to get rid of her forehead bone, which was afterwards changed, for making place for her swelling brain. When her mother made a general public appeal to pray for my daughter, hundreds did.

Just after 8 days, she came outside of a coma, very first inside of a vegetative point out, then in the childlike condition. As she recovered, she slept minor and talked continuously, sometimes in gibberish. I used to be finding mad at people once they didnt respond to these phrases, she mentioned.

Like an Alzheimers individual, she had very little shorter-expression memory and would forget about site visitors the moment they still left the place.

More than a number of months, she needed to relearn how to stroll, gown, read through and publish. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented everyday to Engage in guitar for her. He inspired her to Enjoy the piano, in opposition to the recommendation of her Bodily therapists, who considered she could be frustrated by her inability to Participate in just how she after experienced. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets together with her, participating in the left-hand aspect while she played the best.

That was my most effective therapy, she stated.

In August, she moved back again household to New Jersey, along with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She visited outdated haunts and identified as pals, making an attempt to revive her shattered memory. I used to be really obsessed with remembering, she said. Any memory decline was to me a sign of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists thought her progress was fantastic, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she experienced dropped the opportunity to cry, just as if a faucet within her brain were turned off. Just one night time, 9 months soon after she was damage, she stayed up late to look at the John Grisham movie A The perfect time to Eliminate. Just following her father experienced absent to bed, she viewed a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two men who experienced raped his young daughter.

The faucet opened, plus the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought of my moms and dads, my father, and whatever they went through, she mentioned. Minimal by little, my emotion returned, my depth of intellect returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back to school and got a masters diploma in music instruction.

Not anything went very well. She and Mr. Scherr split up five years following the assault, while they remain buddies. She dated other Adult males, but she often explained to them in regards to the assault instantly — she couldn't assistance it, she claimed — plus they in no way called for your 2nd date.

We now have to search out you a person, her Good friend David Phelps, a guitar participant, mentioned four decades in the past, prior to introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and novice drummer. For at the time, she didn't say everything with regard to the attack right up until she obtained to understand Mr. McCann, after which you can when she did, he admired her strength.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who had frequently visited her at her bedside when she was inside the clinic, married them in his Occasions Sq. Office environment. She wore a blue dress and pearls. While she was Expecting, within a burst of creative imagination, she and her pals recorded Whilst Have been Youthful, an album of childrens tracks that she had composed prior to the assault, including the track Moving. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, produced the CD. On it, her spouse plays drums and he or she plays electrical piano.

Is her existence as it had been? Not precisely, although she is unwilling to attribute the differences to her accidents. Her very last two piano pupils still left her, devoid of calling to explain why, she stated. She has resumed participating in classical tunes, but uncomplicated pieces, mainly because her daughter isn't going to give her time and energy to exercise. As for jazz, I dont even try, she stated.

She would want to drive much more, sensation stranded while in the suburbs, but she is definitely rattled. She tries to be content with keeping house and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a scientific professor of neurological surgical treatment at what's now termed Ny-Presbyterian Healthcare facility/Weill Cornell Professional medical Heart, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann once the attack, said last week that her volume of recovery was rare. Shes fundamentally regular, he stated.

Other industry experts, who will be not Individually acquainted with Ms. Kevorkian McCanns circumstance, are more careful.

Regaining a chance to Engage in the piano might include an almost mechanical course of action, a semiautomatic remember of just what the fingers must do, mentioned Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of medical rehabilitation drugs at Big apple College University of Drugs. At the time Mind-injured, you will be generally brain-injured, For the remainder of your daily life, Dr. Ben-Yishay stated. There isn't a get rid of, There's only intensive compensation.

The more telling Section of a Restoration, in his perspective, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns marriage and youngster as a significant victory.

For her element, the piano Instructor is aware she has modified, but she has designed her peace with it. I used to be type of a hyper —— I dont know if I used to be a Type A, but I was ambitious, she suggests. Why was I so ambitious? I had been a piano Trainer. I dont understand what the ambition was about. I actually did come back to the individual Im purported to be.

[woodsens]

The 12 Worst Types best beginner keyboard piano

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens music that she wrote more than a decade back, the lady who arrived to get recognised only given that the piano teacher available what, in hindsight, seems like an eerie glimpse of her personal foreseeable future.

Im moving absent nowadays to a location so far-off, the place nobody knows my title, she wrote from the lyrics of a song referred to as Shifting.

When she wrote that music, she was young and vivacious, a piano teacher and freelance audio writer who liked Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Appears, lengthy walks and every little thing about The big apple.

On a kind of beloved walks, via Central Park in the bright Sunshine of the June day in 1996, a homeless drifter conquer her and tried to rape her, leaving her clinging to life. Once the assault, the terms to her music came legitimate. She moved absent, away from Ny city, outside of her outdated lifestyle, and all but her closest buddies didn't know her title. To the rest of the environment, she was — like the much more well known jogger attacked in Central Park seven yrs before — an anonymous image of the city nightmare. She was the piano Instructor.

Now, within the 10th anniversary of your attack, she is celebrating what seems to be her total Restoration from brain trauma. She is forty two, married, with a little baby. She is Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano teacher, and he or she hopes to explain to her Tale, her way.

Her medical professional explained to her it will take ten years to Get well, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I come to feel my everyday living continues to be redefined by Central Park, she claimed a number of days in the past, her voice delicate and hopeful. Just before park; following park. Will there at any time certainly be a time Once i dont think, Oh, this is the 10th anniversary, the eleventh anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch household in a very wooded subdivision inside a The big apple suburb. She sat inside of a eating area strewn with toys, surrounded by images of her cherubic, darkish-haired 2-yr-aged daughter. A Steinway grand stuffed 50 percent the room, and at a single position she sat down and performed. Her playing was forceful, but she seemed humiliated to play various bars, and shrugged, as opposed to answering, when asked the title from the piece. She requested that her daughter and her city not be named.

She calls that day, June 4, 1996, the day when I was damage.

Hers was the very first in a string of assaults by precisely the same man on 4 women about 8 times. The last sufferer, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was crushed to Demise as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing store, and ultimately, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to life in jail.

Still the assault over the piano Instructor would be the one particular people feel to remember probably the most. Part of the fascination must do with echoes in the 1989 assault over the Central Park jogger. But Additionally, it frightened men and women in a way the attack within the jogger didn't simply because its situations have been so mundane.

It didn't happen in a very distant part of the park late during the night, but in close proximity to a well known playground at 3 inside the afternoon. It could have occurred to anybody. The stress was heightened by the thriller with the piano teachers id.

For three times, as law enforcement and Medical doctors experimented with to see who she was, she lay inside a coma in her clinic bed, nameless. Her moms and dads were on trip and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Last but not least, among her pupils regarded a law enforcement sketch and was able to detect her from the clinic by her fingers, mainly because her face was swollen beyond recognition. The law enforcement did not release her name.

The very last thing she remembers about June 4, 1996, is offering a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Road, then Placing her very long hair inside of a ponytail and going out to get a walk. She won't try to remember the attack, Though she has read the accounts from the law enforcement and prosecutors.

To me its similar to a actuality I learned and memorized, she said. Just as if I have been a pupil in school studying record.

She won't take into consideration The person who did it. I may need been angry for any minute, although not much longer than that, she mentioned. How could I be offended at John Royster? He was declared not crazy, but I assume by our expectations he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her health care provider at Ny Healthcare facility-Cornell Healthcare Heart, as it was identified in 1996, informed reporters that she experienced a 10 per cent possibility of survival. Medical practitioners experienced to get rid of her forehead bone, which was later replaced, to produce home for her swelling Mind. When her mother manufactured a community attract pray for my daughter, countless numbers did.

Soon after 8 times, she arrived outside of a coma, to start with inside a vegetative state, then in the childlike state. As she recovered, she slept minor and talked consistently, sometimes in gibberish. I used to be having mad at folks after they didnt reply to these words and phrases, she claimed.

Like an Alzheimers affected individual, she had very little brief-term memory and would ignore guests once they remaining the space.

More than various months, she had to relearn the way to walk, gown, examine and produce. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented every day to Perform guitar for her. He encouraged her to Engage in the piano, in opposition to the recommendation of her Bodily therapists, who believed she would be pissed off by her lack of ability to Enjoy just how she at the time had. Mr. Scherr performed Beatles duets with her, participating in the still left-hand portion though she performed the correct.

That was my best therapy, she said.

In August, she moved again residence to New Jersey, together with her father, an engineer, and mother, a schoolteacher. She visited outdated haunts and named friends, striving to restore her shattered memory. I used to be pretty obsessed with remembering, she mentioned. Any memory reduction was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists believed her development was fantastic, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she experienced lost the opportunity to cry, just as if a faucet within her brain had been turned off. A person evening, 9 months just after she was harm, she stayed up late to look at the John Grisham Motion picture A The perfect time to Get rid of. Just immediately after her father experienced long gone to bed, she viewed a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two Gentlemen who had raped his younger daughter.

The faucet opened, plus the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought about my mom and dad, my father, and what they went by means of, she explained. Minimal by tiny, my experience returned, my depth of mind returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back to highschool and acquired a masters diploma in tunes schooling.

Not every thing went nicely. She and Mr. Scherr split up 5 years following the assault, even though they continue to be good friends. She dated other Guys, but she usually instructed them regarding the assault straight away — she couldn't aid it, she mentioned — they usually hardly ever known as for the second date.

We have to uncover you anyone, her Mate David Phelps, a guitar participant, said four yrs ago, in advance of introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and amateur drummer. For once, she didn't say just about anything with regard to the assault till she acquired to grasp Mr. McCann, and after that when she did, he admired her strength.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who had normally frequented her at her bedside when she was inside the healthcare facility, married them in his Times Sq. office. She wore a blue gown and pearls. Whilst she was pregnant, within a burst of creativeness, she and her mates recorded Even though Were being Youthful, an album of childrens songs that she experienced prepared ahead of the attack, including the tune Transferring. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, developed the CD. On it, her partner plays drums and she plays electric piano.

Is her life as it absolutely was? Not accurately, nevertheless she's unwilling to attribute the discrepancies to her injuries. Her previous two piano college students still left her, without the need of calling to explain why, she stated. She has resumed taking part in classical new music, but simple pieces, for the reason that her daughter would not give her time and energy to exercise. As for jazz, I dont even attempt, she claimed.

She wish to generate far more, sensation stranded within the suburbs, but she is definitely rattled. She tries to be articles with staying dwelling and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a medical professor of neurological operation at what is now identified as New York-Presbyterian Hospital/Weill Cornell Clinical Center, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann after the attack, said last week that her amount of recovery was rare. Shes basically usual, he said.

Other specialists, who're not personally accustomed to Ms. Kevorkian McCanns case, are more careful.

Regaining the ability to play the piano might contain an Practically mechanical method, a semiautomatic remember of what the fingers ought to do, mentioned Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of scientific rehabilitation medication at New York College School of Medication. When brain-wounded, you happen to be always brain-injured, for the rest of your lifetime, Dr. Ben-Yishay stated. There's no overcome, There exists only intensive compensation.

The greater telling Portion of a Restoration, in his perspective, is psychological, and on that rating he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns relationship and kid as a major victory.

For her aspect, the piano teacher understands she has changed, but she has designed her peace with it. I was type of a hyper —— I dont know if I used to be a Type A, but I was bold, she claims. Why was I so formidable? I used to be a piano Trainer. I dont really know what the ambition was about. I actually did return to the person Im purported to be.

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

The One, Part 3

Jim Kirk x Reader

Warnings: angst

Summary: It had been years since you had last since Jimmy. The two of you were highschool sweethearts, until you parted ways. After a horrible breakup with your two timing ex-fiance, you transfer to the U.S.S Enterprise. Finally coming face to face with the boy you left behind. Can the two of you work alongside each other in peace? Or will the past come back to haunt you?

Masterlist

It had been two months since your arrival on the U.S.S Enterprise and you had slipped into a familiar routine on the ship. Working with Dr. McCoy had proven to be demandingly pleasing and quite time consuming. You hardly saw Jim, a few glimpses here and there, but for the most part he kept to the Bridge. And you kept to the Med Bay, for the most part.

You walked into Leonard MCcoy’s office, just as he was pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He looked up and grinned at you, offering a glass of your own.

“I’m off duty,” you proposed holding up your sketchbook. “So yes.”

Leonard chuckled and motioned for you to take a seat. “How was your day off? Miss the sickening diseases these people keep getting?”

You laughed and took the glass he slid toward you. “No so much, I was just coming back from the observation deck. I was getting some drawing done.”

“Drawing?”

“I’m not just an amazingly proficient nurse. I studied art for many years, until I decided nursing was my calling.” You took a sip of the whiskey and made a humming noise. “Oh, that is good.”

“Right? Picked it up on our last shore leave,” Leonard smirked setting his glass down. “So are you going to show me these drawings of yours?”

“Sure,” you handed over the spiral sketchbook and leaned back into your seat. “Mostly just drawings of home.”

“Hmm,” Leonard responded, flipping through the pages carefully. He landed on a ink drawing of an old pickup truck, he delicately ran a finger along the hood of the car. “I use to have one like this when I was 18, back in Georgia.”

“Really? That was my baby. My old man gave it to me when I turned 16.”

“So three years ago?” Leonard teased.

“I am not that young, I’m the same age as Jim,” you retorted with a soft smile.

“Speaking of which, have you talked to him much?”

“Smooth, Doctor,” you chuckled shifting in the chair. “I hardly have time to even talk to you, let alone our Captain.”

Leonard gave you a hard stare before glancing back down at the sketchbook. “If you say so.”

You downed the rest of the whiskey, making a sour expression before standing up. “Well, thanks for the drink. But I’m going to go grab some lunch, want to come?”

The handsome doctor shook his head and kindly declined. “Enjoy your lunch.”

“Thanks and hey keep it,” you nodded at the sketchbook. “The drawing, you should have it.”

Leonard looked at you in disbelief, he started to shake his head but quickly smiled. You watched him skillfully tear the page out of the book and hand it over to you. “Sign it, just in case your nursing skills go to hell and you have to fall back on your drawing career.”

Laughing you take a pen off his desk and sign the corner of the page. “Here you go. A Y/L/N original.”

He grinned and thanked you again. You left the office rolling your eyes and feeling lucky to have found a good friend in Leonard McCoy.

“Bones, there you are,” Jim waltzed into his friend’s office with a huge grin on his face. “Scotty’s having drinks in his quarters later tonight.”

Leonard looked up from his PADD and pointed to his glass of whiskey. “I’ve already had a few.”

Jim smirked and sat on the edge of Leonard’s desk, much to his dismay. “Will you get off!”

“So touchy, Bones.”

“Yeah. Yeah. So what time should I go down to Scotty’s?”

Jim’s eyes wandered around his room and shrugged. “Around 6.”

“Sounds good. Need to finish up these damn reports.”

“Mhm,” Jim responded, his eyes moved down to the desk. His body stilled when he saw a drawing lying on the desk. The artist’s lines and style were recognizable, he had seen them so many times. And the subject of the drawing shook him, Jim hadn’t seen that pickup truck in so long. Leonard noticed how quiet Jim had gotten and glanced up from his PADD. His eyes watched Jim’s lips form a nostalgic smile and his eyes soften at the drawing.

“She gave it to you, huh?” Jim asked quietly, lifting the drawing from the desk. He noticed your signature and quickly placed the drawing back down.

“Yeah, she was in here earlier today,” Leonard replied nonchalantly. “She’s really good.”

“I know, I remember.”

“Don’t move, Jimmy!” You laughed and tilted his head with your fingers. “I’m almost done, just relax.”

“I am relaxed, what’s more relaxing than spending the day with my girl?” His blue eyes smiled at you, as you warned him not to move. The two of you were sitting in your blue pickup truck, parked  down by the high school. It was a hot evening  in June and Jim had skipped out on his job to spend some time with you before you were off to a month long art course in San Francisco. Truthfully, he didn’t want you to go. Jim selfishly wanted you to himself, but he knew that you were meant for more than living in some small town. He watched out of the corner of his eye, the way you hummed softly as you sketched away. Jim pulled at his shirt as he clinged to his sweaty chest, you groaned at his movement, but had a smile on your face.

“Let’s go swimming,” he looked out toward the high school. “We can hop the fence, they keep the pool clean for the public.”

“Breaking and entering?” you put the finishing touch on Jim’s mouth and closed the sketchbook. “Sounds good to me, you delinquent.”

15 minutes later, after Jim talked you through climbing the chain linked fence surrounding the pool, the two of you stood over the deep end. The sun had now gone down, there were no lights on, so the darkness started to surround the pair of you. Jim threw off his shirt, tossing it aside and started to unlace his shoes.. His blue eyes lifted toward you and he smirked. “What are you waiting for?”

At that point in your relationship, the two of you had gotten intimate and you had seen his bare body plenty of times. But you had never skinny dipped with him, so you smiled coyly and shrugged. “I was just seeing if you were going full frontal.”

Jim laughed and unbuckled his pants, pulling them down. “Full frontal it is.”

Smirking like a damn fool, you quickly dispense the clothing on your back and reached out to Jim’s hand. With his eyes on yours, he smiled softly. “I’m ready when you are.”

“So Jim, I’ll meet you down at Scotty’s. I’m going to go check up on some patients.”

The Captain jerked from his thoughts and stood up from the desk. “Sounds good, Bones.”

You were three drinks in, sitting next to Uhura and Ensign Hayden, who had dragged you from your quarters to join the small gathering. The three of you dived into a conversation easily, so when Uhura asked why you had transferred, you told her about Ranin.

“It’s his loss. Men are idiots sometimes,” she took a sip from her drink and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, sometimes,” you replied with a soft smile.

“So since you’re single now, any guys on the ship you have an eye on?” Hayden asked with a sly smile. “You have been spending a lot of time with Dr. McCoy.”

“He’s the Chief Medical Officer, I’m his head nurse,” you laughed. “He’s a good friend.”

“Sure,” Hayden retorted. You sent her a glare, but her eyes were fixated forward. You followed her line of vision right to Leonard and Jim, who were walking into the room. Jim was smiling at something the doctor was saying and your heart ached for the boy he once was. You looked down at the drink in your hand and listened to Hayden whisper that she had the biggest crush on the Captain. “Tonight’s the night, ladies,” she announced confidently. “He’s going to be mine.”

Your eyes shot up at the attractive woman and you hated the pang of jealous you felt in your chest. “You have no chance, “ Uhura stated. “Jim’s reputation does not precede him.”

Hiding a smile, you looked up at Hayden who had a frown on her face. “What are you saying?”

“Uhura’s saying that Jim doesn’t sleep around,” you answered taking a sip from your drink.

Hayden huffed and stood up, “I can be very convincing.”

She walked away, toward where Jim stood next to Scotty. Feeling betrayed by the jealous you felt, you turned to Uhura with a fake smile. “She’s a go getter, that one.”

“She doesn’t stand a chance, Jim doesn’t fool around with his crew member.”

Your glanced over at Jim, who was talking to Hayden. She had her hand on his forearm and was leaning into him. It had been years since you had last seen Jim and he had indeed changed, but you recognized that look on his face. He was being polite. You couldn’t help but smile in victory, but it quickly faded when his blue eyes meet yours. Jim’s lips pulled into a small grin and he said something to Hayden. She slowly released her hand from his arm and he walked toward you.

“This stuff Scotty has isn’t too bad,” Jim stood in front of Uhura and you. “Mind if I take a seat?”

“Go ahead, Jim,” Uhura motioned to the empty seat next to you. Your mouth dried as his knee touched yours, your eyes peered down at your drink. Jim watched you lift it to your mouth and chug down the rest of the alcohol. He could tell you were nervous and a little part of him delighted in that fact.

“How’s everything in MedBay? Bones tells me you’re a real contender,” Jim smiled softly and you hated him for it.

“Lee’s an amazing doctor, he’s been a big help.”

“Spock’s here, be right back,” Uhura got up and left the two of you alone. You shifted in your seat and couldn’t make eye contact with Jim. The two of you hadn’t been this close in so long, it was starting to hurt.

“You’re nervous,” Jim stated cooly. You meet his gaze and were immediately assaulted by his baby blues. Blue eyes that you recognized, even if the boy they once belonged to was now a man. A man you hardly knew now, but if you looked long enough you show the person you loved once.

“I’m good,” you answered with a smile.

Jim lifted his eyebrow and chuckled. “You were always such a bad liar!”

“I am not!” you retorted with a grin, letting go of any apprehension.

“Oh, come on! Remember that time you tried to surprise me for my birthday. Terrible liar!”

“You weren’t surprised?” Your mouth gaped open in shock and you playfully smacked him on the arm.

Jim let out a loud laugh and rubbed at his arm. “I’m sorry! It was a good not suprise suprise.”

“Well I was a 16 year old kid. Kinda hard to plan a romantic day out with no money.”

“I haven’t had a better birthday since then,” Jim confessed taking a sip from his drink.

“A trip to the lake and terrible homemade food? And you haven’t had a good birthday since then? I pity you Jimmy.” Instantly you regretted letting that name slip from your lips, but Jim’s face said differently.

He lit up and smirked at your flushed face. “No one calls me that anymore.”

Your lips part to tell him that it felt nice to say, but Leonard had waltzed up with a bottle of whiskey and offered a refill. Jim held out his glass first, his eyes flickered at you for a moment before he brought down his drink. Leonard looked to you, so you held up your drink. The doctor tipped the bottle and poured a good amount in, when he was pulling away his eyes widen.

“You have a tattoo! How come I never noticed?”

Your hand shot back down to your side, eyes avoided Jim. “I guess you aren’t as observant as you thought, Lee,” you said smoothly. “Relax, It’s just a tattoo.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Or you’ve been hiding it.”

“Why would she hide it? It’s just a tattoo.” Jim pointed out in a matter of fact tone.

Sensing tension, Leonard cleared his throat and looked at you. Your lips were shut tightly and your eyes were focused on the floor.

“Well, it’s a nice tattoo,” the doctor offered, but you could feel yourself breaking. And you were not doing that in front of either men. So you stood up quickly and walked out the room drink still in hand. Once in the corridor, you let out a sharp gasp and held a hand over your mouth. Jim must have had seen the tattoo and if he had, then he knew it was inked in. That you blacked out his initials and by the way he spoke, it must have hurt him. But you had to do, it was a necessity.

“Y/N,” Jim spoke from behind you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine,” you muttered closing your eyes tightly, fighting back tears. Ones that had no right to be there. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be upset.”

“Why are you?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted turning to face him. He stood there hands at his sides and a hard expression on his face. “But I know I don’t deserve to be hurt.”

Jim sighed and rolled up his gold commander sleeve, revealing the star tattoo with your initials. Your heart dropped and tears fell down your face. He still had it, he never filled it in. “Jim.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just a tattoo right?” His shoulders gave a small shrug and you quickly wiped the tears from your eyes.

“I came here to work, not to drudge up the past,” you professed stepping away from Jim, prepared to walk away.

“Of all the ships you could have transferred to, you expect me to believe it was just a coincidence?”

“I’m not going to apologize for wanting to work on the best ship in the Fleet,” you argued, tears drying from your eyes.

“Why are you even here? Weren’t you supposed to be a famous artist by now?” Jim bellowed out, anger filled his veins.

“Low blow, Jim,” you hissed clutching the drink in your hand. “I’m here because I’m a damn good nurse.”

Jim shook his head violently. “That wasn’t the plan! You left to study art and you’re a nurse! A nurse!”

“We were kids, Jimmy!” you yelled, throwing a hand up in frustration. “We were two 17 year old punk kids! What did you expect? We’d get married? Have kids? Never leave that damn town!”

“I was expecting you to come back!” He roared out, you froze at his admission. The two of you stood quiet, neither knowing what to say next. His face soften in regret and you brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“Not trying to interrupt confession time, but you two do realize everyone inside can hear?” Leonard appeared at the door, sending sympathetic looks at both of Jim and you. You quickly walked over to him and handed him the drink. “Tell Scotty I said thanks for the invite. I’m headed to bed. See you in the morning, Doctor.”

“Y/N,” Jim whispered softly, stepping forward to you. But Leonard grabbed his arm and sent him a warning look. He sighed and brought his hand back down.

“Night, fellas,” you echoed out, walking away from the two men. Away from the pain you heard in Jim’s voice, the pain you put there.

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