#its very daunting. in a big city really far away from home

[westywallowing]

exploring creative careers?? who knew could be kind of fun??

[mahoushoujotechsupport]

time for ep 5!

i definitely never paused before to look and see what it says when they show the witchboards lol so interesting to see this is written in latin 

and next shot is lukic’s book which is in english lol

my little excitable dumbass

are we ever gonna find out how conz got away with this at all before croix got to the school? like how did modding her broom not get the green team outright disqualified in the relay race lol

lmao

luna nova’s hot pot restaurant

i cannot emphasize how much i love the word vulgar. like growing up it just made me think of my parents but like a month ago i was talking to my friends about a very predominant personality type in my city and and there was just no better word to describe it than VULGAR and i felt like such an Old™️ but it was so perfect and like yea i feel you diana

lukic channeling ova diana

really i love this

lol she really said you guys are going to time out and then called them idiots

i love how ruthless this is made to feel but its like not at all really. i mean cmon, akko and amanda were being annoying and diana’s just here to do her work. no i am definitely not relating this to my time at the office dealing with stupid coworkers

hm... ok atsuko.

here’s a little treat for yall amandakko shippers

these two just fell from the sky once the sorcerer’s stone was too far away and are just perfectly fine. witches be sturdy

i know holbrooke’s a bit of an exception but man it really is amazing how akko just doesnt give up on luna nova ever. sure she came in guns blazing thinking she as a teenage girl could come help with something she had no knowledge of but like goddamn most, if not all, of the professors are so unnecessarily mean to her. 

yea sure she’s a troublemaker but moreso than the other students making fun of her, the most daunting thing really is how she gets treated by the people that are supposed to be helping her grow as both a person and a witch. like that’s your freaking job. i know there’s fics that try to humanize finnelan but nah she’s a bitch

like this is cruel lol all she did was come to do the right thing and tell the adults what happened and offer her help

bike au bike au bike au

we all shouldve picked up on sucy’s vore tendencies early on

kimochi warui

look at her hair,,,

she is literally just looking out for akko’s dumb ass here, but you know that one question that’s on psychometric assessments for ASD that goes something along the lines of “other people often tell me that what i said was impolite, even though i think it was polite” lmfao yeah

🔥 🚒 🧯

i love her so much

this scene but bike au challenge against louis

you guys will just have to deal with the random diana screenshots

you’d think with the cavendish family being such a big deal, the luna nova professors would at least know diana knows dragonese? like ok sure i get that they never even bothered thinking of getting the damn dragon loan promissory note translated but like lol

dragon text screenie

bless you conz

oh shit did not at all remember that amanda canonically calls jasminka “jasna”

akko face

really one of the best instances of “had us in the first half”

the lwa world is so amazing and ridiculous. like yea yea fafnir is a stock trading loan shark but also the idea of a dragon having this insane smart home security system set up is just lmao

☭ ☭ ☭ ☭ ☭ ☭

twitter communists calling out jeff bezos’ reptilian ass

sasuga... but really they’re so obsessed with her, how did no one know this? ya she’s following her dream and all but lmao diana’s gotta be sorely disappointed when she starts luna nova and finds out her teachers all share a brain cell

also love akko being genuinely impressed with diana’s language skills here lol

she smile

imagine how many times she just gives akko that look in the hallways later on and like the first time someone sees it happening theyre just so confused

lol everyone’s faces

diana cavendish has revoked your gay card

look at her smile again

also the little thing on holbrooke’s robes looks like a weed leaf missing the rest of its leaves in this shot

calm down you gays

ok thats a wrap on ep 5… will probably watch a couple more eps today since i don’t really have much to do

[whump-a-la-mode]

I request fluffy fluffity fluff with feverish, injured villain, hero caretaker, painkillers and a kitten. Please.

This is so cute ヾ(•ω•`)o I don’t write a lot of fluff, but this is some cute cute sick fic. Hero caretaker? Check. Painkillers? Check. A kitten? You know it! Thanks so much for the ask!!

CW//Fevers, injury mention, intoxicated/feverish character, painkillers

The text had been unexpected, to say the least.

That wasn’t to say that Hero wasn’t unused to receiving messages, especially strange messages. Half of the time, a buzz on their phone indicated that they were about to have the record for ‘weirdest thing they’ve ever seen’ broken.

Yet, this text said nothing of giant lizards attacking downtown, or a mad scientist’s experiment gone wrong. So, perhaps, to a normal civilian, it would have been quite a normal message to receive.

“Hey, Hero? I have a really big favor to ask.”

From another hero, it would have been quite the daunting request. But, it was not from another hero. At least, not in the traditional sense.

Hero had known Doctor for quite some time-- hell, every powered person in the city knew Doctor. In some ways, they were more of a hero than the rest of them, put together. While most hospitals flinched and scurried away from the world of villains and vigilantes, Doctor embraced them wholeheartedly.

A particularly egregious wound, carved in the heat of battle? A power malfunction? Any one of these things could result in the doctor being awoken in the middle of the night, an exhausted, limping hero upon their doorstep.

Or, a villain. Doctor insisted upon making their policy for such things very, very clear. Adamantly, they refused to involve themself in the matters of heroes and villains. Their battles, their allegiances, to the doctor were all naught. As they explained it, no matter one’s actions, no matter their beliefs, no one deserved to have their wounds go untreated.

Thus, their home had quickly become a neutral ground. Lifelong sworn nemeses could have their injuries wrapped mere feet from one another, and not one glare would be shot. In Doctor’s presence, there were no heroes or villains. Only patients. Only those who needed aid.

But, it was the first time that Hero had been on the receiving end of such a request. Of course, they were not about to refuse the doctor. With how much help they had given them, it would only be right to return the favor.

“What is it?” Hero tapped in reply.

Given the length of the doctor’s response, the three dancing progress buttons hung on Hero’s screen for far too long.

“Do you know Villain?”

It wasn’t a name they’d ever expect to hear in a conversation so casual. Villain. Though Hero did not consider themself to truly have a nemesis, if they had to define one, it was Villain who would be on the very tippy top of their list.

That was, especially after their battle the day prior. Their wounds still screamed at them, no matter how they tried to quiet them with painkillers and icepacks.

“I know Villain.” Hero replied simply.

“Okay. Do you think you could take care of them for a few hours?”

Instantly, the conversation shot up to the top of their list of ‘strangest possible talks to have over the phone.’

Take care of them? Take care of Villain? What cold they have possibly gotten themself into that required Hero, of all people, to aid them?

Then again, they had looked quite rough after their battle...

They had no need to question, as Doctor continued on their own:

“They’re sick. I need to go to work, but they shouldn’t be left alone, right now. I know it’s a big favor, but they need this, Hero.”

They bit their lip.

As a protector of the city, they had a very, very long list of priorities, and upon that list, helping Villain in any way, shape, or form was at the very bottom. Helping Doctor, on the other hand...

“Okay.”

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It was only upon arriving to front door of Doctor’s home that Hero had a rather odd realization: Never before had they been to that place in a completely stable state of mind.

If they had made the decision to bother the doctor, it meant that, whatever injuries or illness had befallen them, they could not manage it on their own. Thus, far more often than not, when they stood in front of this home’s door, they did so with a head full of cotton and legs formed of gelatin.

Now, however, their mind was not clouded by any malease. Instead, it was clouded by the stark realization that they had, perhaps, just made a terrible decision.

By the time they had arrived at the house, however, it was already far too late. When Doctor opened their front door, Hero knew full well that there was no turning back.

The doctor looked terribly bedraggled, and they could not help but wonder if it was wise for them to even go to work in such a condition. Yet, every powered person in the city knew far better than to distrust Doctor’s judgement.

“Thank you.” The medic began, a warm smile creeping onto their cracked lips. “I know this was awfully short notice, but I couldn’t think of anyone else who would know Villain as well as you.”

Well, Hero certainly knew what Villain’s fist felt like, crashing into their face, though that was about it.

“Okay, come on, come on.” The doctor rushed. “I need to be heading out soon.”

The hero nodded, hurrying after them into the building. It wasn’t exactly a sprawling thing-- certainly not large enough to house all the equipment that it did-- but, nonetheless, it functioned, through some miracle.

Against their prediction, Doctor did not lead them to the home’s makeshift infirmary. Instead, they moved to the cramped dining room, which, truly, consisted of little more than a table with just enough chairs to seat a guest or two. The house itself was not impressive, its owner only made it so.

But, Hero had seen that dining room, barren table and all, more times than they could count. There was nothing unusual to be seen about it. No. The strangeness of the hour came in the form of who, exactly, was seated there.

Villain.

Oddly enough, either they had forgotten to take off their ostentatious garb, or they had simply not had the time. The villain’s cape draped over their shoulders as they hunched over, forehead pressed to the table’s surface. A full glass of water and a small pile of crackers sat near them, untouched.

Hero bit their lip. Seeing their nemesis was never a good thing, of course, but something about this simply made their heart stutter.

“What’s wrong with them?” They began, before their voice took on a more panicked pitch. “They’re okay, right? They’re gonna make it?”

Doctor snorted.

“Hero, they’re fine. They say they had a fight, overexerted themself a bit.”

A fight? Oh, god, was this all their fault?

“But... They look terrible.”

“They just have a fever.” Doctor reassured. “Power exertion is nothing to scoff at, but I promise, they’re not in any serious danger.”

Hero hummed. “Then, why did you bring me here?”

“Because we need to make sure they stay out of serious danger. They can hear you, by the way, so don’t be an ass, please. But, yes, I’m confident this fever will break, so long as it stays down.”

“You’re putting them in my hands?”

“Yes. I trust you. Seriously, Hero, you look like a deer in the headlights. I’m not asking you to perform open heart surgery, here.” They smiled playfully. “All you need to do is keep them cool and keep them comfortable.”

“What does that entail?” Nervously, they chewed the inside of their cheek.

“Not a lot. Keep a wet washcloth on their head, make sure they drink water.” As the doctor glanced to the nearest clock, they began to hurry their words. “There’s a thermometer on the counter. If their fever goes over 103, call an ambulance. But, as long as its below that, you’re safe.”

“And... keeping them comfortable?”

“Just... try to get them to sleep. It won’t be easy for them, in this state. But if you can manage it, it’ll be a lot better. Oh, and, there’s Advil in the drawer. Give them some if they’re uncomfortable, okay? Okay, I really need to go, so, you got all that?”

“Uh- I think so?”

“Good. Okay, bye! Remember, above 103, call an ambulance. What temperature is dangerous?”

“103.”

“Great. Thank you so, so much! I’ll get you like, some chocolates or something. Bye!”

By the end of their speech, Doctor’s words had sped to the point of blending into one long stream of syllables. They tossed a coat over their shoulders, shoving their feet into their already-tied shoes.

“Oh, and try not to kill each other, okay?”

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Hero was alone.

They supposed that wasn’t entirely true. In fact, it was quite far from the truth. The house was anything but empty-- their nervous glances to the dinner table’s current guest ensured them of that. But, that did not help the chord of nerves that wrapped itself about their stomach.

Power exertion was nothing to be scoffed at.

Though they weren’t alone, they were the only one in the situation who could be described as responsible. It was they who had to keep their nemesis alive. And, worse... comfortable.

How were they supposed to rock their sworn enemy to sleep? Maybe, a good place to start would be stopping staring at them like some kind of creep.

Yeah. They should probably do that.

The hero inhaled through their nose, letting out a long exhale from their mouth, before approaching the table. Throughout the whole conversation, the villain had not so much as raised their head-- their movements coming only in the slightest of twitches.

Standing at the stalled villain’s side, Hero could not help but feel to have walked into the den of a lion. Yet, not the slightest movement was made. In an attempt to gently draw their attention, they ghosted their hand over their nemesis’s shoulder.

“Hey, Villain?”

There was a twitch, and a groan, but nothing that could be described as words.

“Um, Doctor is gonna have me take care of you now, okay? Can you look at me? I think I’m supposed to take your temperature.”

If the villain had been listening before that point, there was little indication. Had they already been asleep? Had Hero already ruined everything? Either way, blearily, Villain lifted their head, unfocused eyes fixing on the wall before their face.

Placing their hand to their forehead, Hero nearly jerked their palm away. Their skin felt like the burner of a hot stove. But, if Doctor said they were okay...

“How are you feeling?” As they spoke, they felt the slightest bit of the doctor’s voice slip into theirs. That soft, coaxing tone that all medical providers seemed to be able to imitate. “You haven’t touched your water.”

“Mmm...” The fevered villain murmured. “Can’t...Swallow.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Mmm.” They were unsure if that was an affirmation or not.

“Okay. Um, well, the doctor says you need water. Let’s get you some water, then... What do you need, Villain?”

The villain blinked, seeming, by all accounts to be on another planet.

“I’m cold...” At last, they muttered a pair of coherent words. “And hot...” Well, maybe not so much on the coherent part.

What was it that Doctor had said? Something about keeping their head cool. That was it, right?

“Okay, um. I’ll cool you down, and warm you up, okay?”

“Hero!” It was an excited cry, even with the way the syllables all blurred into one another. “Hero...”

“Yeah, Villain?”

“Hero, I looooove you.”

Oh.

No, they were just feverish. Delusional, they probably didn’t even know where they were. They had no clue what they were saying, just making sounds.

“I’m gonna go get you a blanket.” Hero spoke hurriedly, rushing off to do just that. For a few moment, they dashed about the house, gathering supplies and, hopefully, not rummaging too much through Doctor’s things. When, at last, they returned to the kitchen, it was with a dripping-wet washcloth and a bottle of tylonel.

Villain, so it seemed, had fallen back into their half-restful state, head on the table. With a gentle hand, Hero tipped their chin up, brushing the washcloth over their forehead.

“You want something to help with the pain, bud?”

“Head hurty.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

They placed down the washcloth, and, in an exercise in tedium, coaxed a pair of white pills down the villain’s throat, alongside a wash of water. Hopefully, it would be enough, as a snowball would make it too the depths of hell before any more water went down.

“I have everything set up on the couch. Can you walk?”

“Mmm... Carry me... I love you!”

“Y- Yeah, alright.”

Despite the feverish villain’s words filling Hero’s chest with an odd sensation, they obliged, plucking them from the chair and draping the washcloth over their forehead, taking care to ensure that no water would drip its way to their eyes.

The couch, as opposed to most of the furniture in the house, had seen some serious use. With only one bed in the building, when a hero was wounded with such severity that an overnight visit was necessitated, it was upon the couch that they slept. Though, luckily, use had not worn away any of the seat’s comfort.

A large, white, puffy comforter had been draped over the seats, and, upon laying Villain down, Hero secured the blanket around their body, tucking it in in the corners and ensuring that no draft would disturb them.

It was all medically necessary, of course.

Though, they couldn’t help but giggle at just how ridiculous their nemesis appeared, dwarfed by the fluffy comforter, face half covered by a rag.

“Alright.” Hero smoothed a hand over Villain’s hair-- to make sure they weren’t sweating excessively, of course. “Are you alright? Comfortable?”

“I love you! Love you...”

“Okay. Well, do you need anything?”

“Sleep...”

“You’re tired?”

“Sleepytime.”

“Alright, bud. Sleepytime.”

They couldn’t help but smile.

With a few more strokes through their hair, the fevered person soon let their muscles go limp, sacrificing themself to the whims of the blanket they were half-submerged in. The sight alone was enough to make Hero’s own eyelids droop.

It wasn’t like they could disturb the villain while they slept-- no, they needed their rest far too much for that-- and, there wasn’t anything else threatening the city...

What would a nap hurt?

Though there was no certainly no room on the seat for another full-grown human, that was a problem easily solved. In a blink of white light, Hero’s bleary form was replaced by that of a feline, with a countenance just as exhausted.

The felidae-turned hero leapt onto the couch, settling themself near the edge, before shifting themself against Villain’s feet.

To know if they woke up.

After all, it was very medically necessary.

[council-of-readers]

Second Chances

My gift for @prose-for-hire for the @buffyversegiftexchange! I give you guys: Angsty Spangel. Warnings for violence, but nothing worse than what's in the show. Enjoy!

~•~

The violent clash of their swords was drowned out by the sounds of battle coming in from every side. The moment was high tension, high risk, and high reward, and they both knew the likely outcome wasn't going to be in their favour. They fought side by side with reckless abandon. Despite their differences in the months leading up to this, they fought not just for themselves, but for each other.

"No, Spike. No way in hell."

He groaned in annoyance, "Oh, come on! It's not like you don't have cash to spare. 'sides, it'd keep me away from you, which Lord knows would be a blessing."

Angel rubbed the bridge of his nose. Not having Spike around to bother him so much would be nice, but he'd be back anyways in a week, asking for more money. Who even knows what he spends it on. Certainly not that decrepit apartment he called home.

"You're asking for eight hundred dollars, Spike. That's no small favor. Look just…" he trailed off, trying to think of a solution that'd get them both something they wanted. "Alright, how about this. You get money from me, regularly, if you agree to sign on to help."

His response surprised the both of them. It wasn't what Angel had expected himself to say, and it wasn't what Spike had expected to hear. 

Neither of them were disappointed.

Spike blinked, stunned for a second, before reverting back to his snarky persona, "Yeah, and have to be stuck 'round here most of my nights? No thanks."

"You would be out on the streets, only occasionally coming here to help with research. It would be virtually the same thing you were doing with Lindsey. You would have the chance to really help people, Spike. That's what you want, right? To be a hero?"

He scoffed, "Yeah, and come work for Evil Inc.? Doesn't really seem like that's a 'net good' I'd be putting out."

"Better than doing nothing."

Spike thought. 

"You wouldn't be on the official payroll. You'd be working for us, as a team, rather than Wolfram and Hart."

"Yeah,?" he chuckled, "Working for you, peaches? Bet you'd bloody love that…"

Angel crossed his arms, "No. For us. Listen, Spike, if you don't want to come on-"

"I will," Spike said, "Just be careful, yeah? Don't wanna accidentally sell my soul so soon after I got it back."

"You're in good hands. I won't let anything happen to you, or your soul."

"Angel!" Spike yelled out into the fray. He caught sight of the other vampire and waved for his attention. His head turned and Spike tossed him another sword. Angel shot him a small smile. It lasted only a half second but it still caused a familiar pang in Spike's chest.

Angel stabbed the swords into the chest of the being that towered over him. The creature toppled to the floor.

Angel tossed it back to Spike, "Thanks."

"No problem. Just watch yourself next time. Can't always save you." 

Spike, rearmed, turned back to face the oncoming second wave of demons, most of which he'd never even seen the likes of. It was daunting. He wasn't one prone to fear, especially not when it came to battle, but he felt his stomach drop at the sight. At least that damned dragon had flown off somewhere else for the time being. If he had to deal with that now he'd for sure be dusted within the hour. As things stood, though, he had a chance. Maybe not a chance to save L.A., but at the very least he and Angel could get out.

He'd try to save the rest, but Gunn was bleeding out somewhere, likely dead by now, and Illyria was sick with rage and grief, tearing a hole through the horde a few blocks from there. She was unlikely to be open to reason, and if he was being truly honest, he wasn't fond of the idea of going near her. He didn't have a clue where Lorne was. Poor guy was probably either dead or catatonic, and Spike couldn't blame him.

It's not that he didn't want to get everyone out, he just wasn't sure there'd be anyone left he could help. He and Angel were on their last legs as it was, and they were both strong, even for vampires.

They sat in silence, the muffled roar of the plane engines keeping them company. Spike didn't know what to say, and Angel didn't know what he could hear. They'd done it. They'd lost her. They'd lost Fred. It still didn't feel real.

Spike stared at the tiny empty liquor bottles strewn about before him. He'd expressed this before, but they really were pointless. A tease of relief. God knows they both needed that right now. He'd done his best to comfort Angel, but he's no therapist. Hell, he's not even his friend. That thought sent a sharp pain through him. One he chose to ignore.

Angel was lost in thought and in guilt. He was drowning in it. His head spun with a thousand alternative timelines, and they all came back to one point. Wolfram and Hart was the source. It was the source of their recent heartache, and it needed to be taken down. He looked over his shoulder at Spike briefly, hastily looking away when they made eye contact. He didn't know why, but he felt almost ashamed to be seen like this. He was actually concerned about Spike's opinion of him. He had been for a while. Ever since he started working with Lindsey Angel had felt a confusing mix of jealousy, anger, and pride.

He heard the click of Spike's seatbelt. He didn't look at him again. Spike sank down into the seat next to Angel unsurely, hesitating for a moment. A moment that Angel not only picked up on, but one he felt relief at. He didn't push the emotion away.

"We really did do everything we could." Spike said, and reached across the aisle. He took Angel's hand in his own and smiled softly. Neither of them knew the intent behind the gesture, and neither cared. It meant the world to them both.

Spike lost sight of Angel in the chaos. He spun around, half frantic, trying to catch sight of him, but to no avail. The battle raged on around him and Spike couldn't afford to devote too much energy to searching, no matter how desperately he wanted to. The roar of a demon caught his attention and Spike went to face it head on. The creature was big, much bigger than he'd expected from the sound it made. It was holding a club about the length of Spike's body and it's hands looked like they could crush skulls without a second thought.

It looked more like an orc than a demon. Maybe it was. There was already a dragon here. 

Andrew would get a kick out of this, Spike thought to himself for a moment. He hoped the little nerd was doing okay. They didn't know how far the carnage had spread just yet, and he prayed it was contained to L.A. He hadn't given much thought to the divine before now, but it seemed as good a time as any.

He braced himself for battle with the beast, baring his teeth and raising his sword. The thing made an expression that could be best described as the universe's most disturbing grin and began to charge. He stepped forward, preparing to give it his all.

The creature's head toppled to the floor. Spike paused for a moment, dumbstruck. Angel stood behind the body, weapon in hand and a smug look on his face.

"Couldn't let you save my ass without returning the favour."

Spike rolled his eyes playfully. Even in a moment like this they couldn't resist poking a bit of fun at each other. It was second nature at this point.

Angel attempted to wipe the blood from his face, but he only succeeded in smearing it. He groaned in frustration. He felt dirty, in more ways than one. He needed a shower.

He saw Spike staring at him, the cup still in his hand. He met Spike's gaze and held it for a few seconds. Not in challenge, but in acknowledgement. His victory hurt, in more ways than one, however it was still a victory. One that was hard fought and well earned. Spike had a soul now. He was a hero.

"You put up a good fight." Spike extended his hand out to Angel.

He refused it and stood up on his own. He didn't intend to offend Spike, and Spike wasn't hurt. It was an offer they both knew he wouldn't accept. It's purpose wasn't to be accepted, but simply to be given. It was a message.

Angel winced as he straightened.

Spike placed the cup back on its pedestal and spoke again. "I suppose we should head back now. Catch everyone up on the goings on down here."

"Yeah."

They stayed put. 

Spike felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at Angel's bloodied face. Angel had truly wanted to win, hadn't he? Spike wasn't disappointed with how things had turned out, aside from the cup of Mountain Dew, but he couldn't shake the need to apologize. He knew, also, that this had been another blow to something already so broken between them. It was a pity. He'd spent the last few months hoping that maybe things would be different this time. That they'd get a chance to talk. About anything, really. Just one genuine conversation would have been enough.

It hadn't happened. Not only because Spike was incorporeal, but because they both knew where one honest moment would lead. And neither of them were in a place to face that.

Angel began to walk out of the dilapidated building, and Spike followed suit. They didn't speak another word, and they both spent their separate drives back to L.A. regretting it sorely.

The city was collapsing around them, and the wall of beasts just closed in. The roar of the dragon grew nearer. Spike was dripping with blood, most of it wasn't his own, but enough was that he felt unsteady. Less from blood loss, more with pain. He had a pretty serious gash going down his back, and he'd been fighting for hours. His stamina wasn't poor by any standards, but he was growing weak. And it wasn't just him.

Angel stumbled to Spike's side, his hand clasped tightly over a wound in his abdomen. It looked deep. 

Spike furrowed his brow, "Hey, you're all torn up, mate."

"It's nothing." Angel gripped the hilt of his blade tighter, his other hand still glued to his side. "I can't afford to be taken down now."

They both looked ahead to the incoming storm.

"I know the feeling. What are we gonna do now?"

Angel removed his hand, and the bleeding began worsening as a result. Due to gravity, not to circulation. Still, it must have been damn uncomfortable. He tugged firmly in Spike's head, planting a solid kiss on his temple.

"We do what we've always done. We fight. We survive."

Spike smiled and laughed half-heartedly, "You always had the worst plans, Angel."

"And you've never had any better suggestions, Spike. So, we're in this together?"

"Always have been."

The horde fell upon them.

Angel leaned against the wall, the harsh fluorescent lights humming softly above him. His eyes were trained on Spike as he walked with Fred. He was surprised, to say the least, to see him here, considering all that went down on the Hellmouth. Surprised, and a little threatened. 

It was a strange feeling, having a ghost make you insecure. A little emasculating.

Fred laughed at something Spike said. Angel couldn't quite make it out from this distance, but he was sure he earned it. Despite how annoying he could be, he was pretty funny at times. It was kind of amazing how Spike was still cracking jokes in his current state. If it was Angel trapped like that, he'd be solemn, even by his own standards. It was an ability of Spike's he'd always admired. To make light in a dark situation. He could be a genuine pleasure to be around, if he wasn't too busy trying to prove himself to everyone.

Angel sighed and shifted his weight back onto his feet. He'd never told him that. He'd never told him a lot of things. Spike wasn't that annoying, even at his worst. He was just a painful reminder, sometimes. Seeing him joking around and smiling hurt Angel, and not for the reasons his friends would suspect.

Sure, he had his issues with the guy. Sure, he was feeling defensive over his status as a champion. And, sure, he was a little jealous of how charming he could be. Truthfully, though? He liked Spike. A lot more than he was willing to admit. But seeing him happy was painful. Because Angel knew that he struggled, that he grieved, that he killed, because of him. His happiness existed in the wake of unimaginable suffering. Suffering that Angel caused. His smile fell whenever Angel walked in a room, and Angel's cutting comments certainly never helped. He hoped maybe it could be different this time. 

If he could get the courage to just be honest about how he felt. At the very least, get the courage to tell him how much he really did like his poetry. It was always a regret of his that he didn't get to hear more of it.

Maybe he could convince Spike to read him one. Maybe he could convince Spike of a lot more than that. Angel was never the best with his words, but now was as good a time as any to start practicing. You don't get second chances often.

[kiatheinsomniac]

Unwoven Fate VI

[MY MASTERLIST]

(Y/n) took another sip of her bitter coffee as she cast a glance into the fireplace, sitting with the Assassins.

"It doesn't make sense." She shook her head.

"That's precisely why it's so unusual." The man, who she now knew as La Volpe, replied.

"A dead child? They planted a dead child at the villa?" (Y/n) had to close her eyes and take in a deep breath. Her Aunt and Uncle were evermore being revealed as monsters to her. "Why go to that length just to take me in?"

"None of us had seen you in over three years so when we saw the child's body, we all assumed it was you," Machiavelli chimed in.

"But you had no idea that my mother had any family?" (Y/n) repeated again. Why had her mother hidden her past?

"No. She told us that she was an orphan from Vienna and moved to Forlì with her adopted father when she was young."

"She never mentioned Vienna to me as far as I can remember." (Y/n)'s brows furrowed. She could feel tears threatening her eyes but she kept them back as she took another sip of coffee, biting her inner cheek. If only Emma were there for the young woman to question her.

"What I still don't know is the connection between Emma lying about her past and why your Aunt and Uncle had her and Lorenzo killed." Volpe hummed.

"And why they killed an innocent child just to take me in. . ." (Y/n) added quietly, feeling guilt for whoever that nameless, faceless youth was. Whoever she was or would have been had died in her family's scheme.

"And, until now, the only thing you've known of the Assassins was what you found in the letter from my uncle." Claudia's brother added as he handed it back to her, having gone over his passed loved one's handwriting so many times.

"My Aunt and Uncle never mentioned it before. Originally, I thought it was because they didn't know but now I'm not so sure. . . It doesn't sit right anymore."

"There's definitely something deeper here. . ." Machiavelli pondered, walking away to the other room in order to think. (Y/n) put her cup of coffee down on the table beside her, no longer having an appetite for its bitterness. "Every time I go looking for answers, all I find is more questions." She sighed exasperatedly.

"And you will have them," Volpe spoke as he stood up, "You are Lorenzo's and he was like family to us, Emma became family in time too. We won't turn you away." She found herself smiling bittersweetly at this. On her journey, she felt that she had lost any sense of home so, while it was nice to be offered somewhere to stay, it felt painfully temporary.

"You may join our ranks." Ezio spoke up, causing some looks of surprise around the room, "Your family come from our Brotherhood and there will be a place for you here if you wish to take it. I'll give you all the time you need to make your decision."

An Assassin. He was right to give her time to make up her mind, it was a very big decision. It was a new life. Wasn't that what she wanted? Either way, she would definitely take her time on this one instead of jumping at every chance presented to her.

"Thank you," She spoke with a grateful bow of her head and she rose from her seat, "I'm aware that I've delayed your meeting, I'll let you get on." And she made her way back to the main hall where she found a bookcase and a pigeon cage with a carrier pigeon inside.

After a few times, stealing had come naturally to her but killing? Did she have it in her? She shook her head; she needed to know more about this cause before she even started on that train of thought. What about this brotherhood had stirred her mother's passion so much that she had revoked her own family? She turned to the bookshelf, seeing some scrolls tucked between the volumes here and there and decided to see if the papers held any answers for her.

⚜⚜⚜

Two months had passed since and she woke up to the sound of the door across her room opening, hearing footsteps go down the corridor. Emilio's heavy door was usually what woke her up in the morning. (Y/n) threw her arms upon her pillow, groaning as she stretched her back and then sat upright, reaching for her aching shoulders.

She had accepted Ezio's offer of becoming a recruit for the Brotherhood and she felt that she was making good progress. She was not yet trained enough to be called on in the field but she hoped that she would be promoted soon. Ezio was the Brotherhood's primary mentor but he was also a busy man which meant that the recruits often spent most of their training sparring against each other.

(Y/n) fought with her father's hidden blade which had been repaired with a little oil to restore its long-neglected mechanics. The training had definitely taken its physical toll on her: she had not been very athletic before so aches and pains after a long day came without fail but practise and a lot of torn muscles were making her grow more and more used to her new lifestyle. She got out of bed and tidied up the sheets behind her: it had been a skill she'd taught herself during her residence at the Assassin hideout after being raised with servants to do it for her throughout her life.

There were still aspects of (Y/n)'s life as a noblewoman that she didn't want to let go of though and makeup was one of them. It motivated her to get out of bed as soon as she awoke instead of staying curled up in the sheets and she simply didn't feel prepared for the day until it was complete. It didn't take her too long to apply the light powder across her face and neck along with the blush on her lower cheeks. She oiled her lashes, dusted her brows and dappled some lipstick to the centre of her mouth in a matter of minutes then got to weaving her hair into a braid around her head like a crown. Her previous braided style had proved impractical for training as she'd found that they would often hit her in the face if she turned quickly.

She pulled on her wine-coloured recruit robes and took a final glance at herself in the small mirror, touching her necklace to the two strings of pearls around her neck. Somehow those pearls made her feel like she had made the right decision - the pearls of her Assassin mother now being worn by her Assassin-recruit daughter.

(Y/n) had noticed that she was now the best free runner out of the other four recruits but she knew exactly why. As she made her way downstairs to raid the pantry for whatever fruit preserves were left, she reflected on her experience so far. The other recruits didn't trust her and they weren't very good at hiding it. They found her mysterious past daunting somehow and remained suspicious of her because of it. This often meant that she was excluded from sparring so she had been spending much more time running across the rooftops of Rome and (without others knowing) checking the carrier pigeons. She would often check on what sort of contracts were available so that she could grasp a better idea of what it meant to be an Assassin.

She ate her usual breakfast of a cup of coffee and a few slices of bread smeared with fruit preserve. By the time she got to the hall where the recruits would train, she found three of them already sparring, the fourth reading in the corner. She already knew that she wouldn't be included this day and decided to make her way outside instead, climbing up to the roof.

(Y/n) had made it routine to take the leap of faith from the top of the hideout now. She knew that only formally initiated Assassins were supposed to take the leap of faith but she had performed it in an escape from a rooftop archer two weeks ago and loved the thrill that came with it.

Landing in the haystack below, she left Isola Tiberina and made her way further north in the city, scaling a wall once the buildings were close enough to start running over. She liked to challenge herself too: using flag poles, tightropes, ledges and balconies to really expand her potential routes.

Once the afternoon came about and the sun was beating down from overhead, she decided to take shelter on a platform that was fairly sheltered by the taller building beside it, casting her in shadows. The coos of pigeons joined the urban ambience of chatter from the streets below. (Y/n) sat down on and leaned her back against the wall, looking at the view around her. That's when she noticed that there was an irregularity in the shadow of the wall behind her: the straight line was interrupted by a rounded figure. She silently but quickly turned around, keeping in a crouch, suspecting that it was a guard. But what she was met with instead surprised her and she got to her feet as the figure jumped down to join her.

"Mentore," She greeted as his taller figure approached her, gesturing for her to sit back down. She did and he joined her, one of his knees propped up with his arm resting over it. It had been quite a while since the recruits had seen Ezio in more than just passing.

"Recruits aren't supposed to do the leap of faith, you know." He started and (Y/n) opened her mouth to apologise so quickly that she had missed the tone of amusement in his voice, "But you did it well, fearlessly, as it should be done."

"I actually wasn't as afraid as I thought I'd be the first time I did it." She started, glancing at him as he looked across the streets of Rome, "But that probably had something to do with that fact that the guard had already shot two arrows at my feet and I doubted that he would miss a third time." This made the man beside her laugh heartily, "I do think that the first time should be more ceremonial but desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Have you been following me all day or did you happen to find me again?" She questioned, now knowing that there was the chance she had actually been observed all day.

"You'll have to find out the next time this happens." He replied and (Y/n) set her eyes back on the streets, the hot sun climbing ever higher into the sky. "You're much better at freerunning than the rest of the recruits." He praised.

"I just spend more time doing it." She bit her cheek, "They don't seem to trust me enough to let me train with them as much as I'd like." She could see him turn to face her from the corner of her eyes.

"They just have a lot of questions."

"So do I. . ." She shifted the way that she was sitting, bringing her knees up enough to rest her arms over them. "I've been at a standstill for a while in terms of looking for answers and now I'm worried that I won't be able to find anymore." She confided.

"Journys like yours can be long and they can stop and start at times," He began, "Believe me, I would know. I spent years hunting all the men involved in my family's murder: I was acting as an Assassin without knowing that my father was one, that my brother was to take over for him while I minded the bank. Now I'm the Assassin and Claudia is the one who knows how to handle our finances. Sometimes you just need to let yourself sit out for a while before you're able to keep on going."

"I heard about your family in Florence. . . People still talk about you." He hummed, a smile teasing his face then vanishing again.

"I made some irrational decisions when I was young. My first major kill was out in the open and I announced myself to the crowd after. I've been a wanted man for a long time." There was a silence. "Just promise me that you won't let this take you down a path of vain revenge. It'll only hurt you more." She could hear in his voice that he was speaking from experience still.

"I'm not entirely sure that I can promise that. My own family killed my parents, essentially kidnapped me and lied to me for years. I'm not sure if I can forgive that and I'm not sure that I can face them again. I know that the day will come when I'll have to but I just don't know if I can."

"This life will toughen you up whether you want it to or not. When the time comes, you'll be ready." He patted her shoulder as he rose to his feet. "Andiamo."

"Where are we going?" (Y/n) asked as she followed him across an archway to another roof, continuing to lead her east.

"To teach you how to better use that blade!" He called from ahead of her and a smile painted her face.

[belladonnaandulriched]

the dead of night | chapter eleven

Scott's point of view

If I was honest to myself, I wondered about Kristina and her life in Boston. I wondered about it so much that I could hardly concentrate on what was going on there in Sew Into You. I wanted to know more about her and I wanted to know about things there.

Joey said that I could use the arrowhead for my benefit and go to visit her whenever I wanted. So once Marcia told me that she would get to work right away on my checkerboard shirt, I took the arrowhead out of my pocket and doubled back to the shelves where Frankie had been standing before. I was alone standing there.

Just make a mark in mid air and a hole would open up.

I did just that and sure enough, a little dark hole emerged out of mid air. I had no idea as to how to make it any bigger so I ducked my head and climbed in.

I was surrounded by complete and total blackness. I didn't know if I could breathe there, and so I crawled along the darkness. It was like crawling on a slick veil, albeit one that was closing in on my body. I held my breath and kept going.

Nothing around me. Nothing but darkness. Nothing but sheer blackness. And something kept me steady.

I spotted a single white light up ahead of me. I kept crawling along on my elbows and my knees. I thought my chest was about to burst when I reached the end, and I somersaulted out of there and stumbled out on my back on a hard surface. Pain surged up my back to the base of my skull, to which I snapped my eyes shut.

I didn't move and I could hardly breathe from the pain in my back.

I opened my mouth and let out a long low whistle. I looked up above me at the sight of a sink basin to my left and a small bathroom window to my right.

The door above my head swung open and I caught the sound of a gasp behind me. I raised my gaze to the doorway where Kristina lingered above me, upside down no less.

“Scott! What—What are you—”

“I can explain,” I quipped to her; I pulsed my fingers and I could still feel the edges of the arrowhead against my skin.

“I'm sure you can. I heard a whistle in here and I thought I had left the window open.”

“Nah.” I winced at the pain in my back.

“Want some help?”

“Yes'm.” I raised my free hand towards her. She stood over me and held onto my hand to help me up. I set my other hand on the linoleum: I could feel the arrowhead underneath the palm. I gripped onto it as I stood to my feet and shoved it into my jeans pocket.

“Something smells good,” I remarked.

“I just put on a pot of tea,” she said. “Care for some?”

“Um—yeah, sure, why not?”

She giggled at me. I glanced about her bathroom and the warm creamy colored walls surrounding us. Nice warmth to take to me in after being surrounded by pitch darkness for a bit.

“It's snowing right now,” she told me.

“Remember when we were in school and we played 'Planet Caravan' to ourselves on our little guitars?” I recalled.

“How could I forget?” she said with a twinkle in her eye. She led me out of the bathroom to the rest of her warm lit apartment, just big enough for her. Up on the wall to the left was a shelf which upheld a bunch of little knick knacks and stuff.

A pair of little dolls looked to be made of ceramic rested on the end of the shelf. Their beady little eyes stared back at me.

I stopped before them to take a better look at them. The one on the right had a little black yarmulke atop its head and a little knit sweater about its body, while the one on the left wore a dark dress with a long skirt down to its ankles.

“Is this you and me?” I asked her.

“Huh?” She doubled back to me with her eyebrows raised.

“These two dolls here.”

“They started life as voodoo dolls, actually.”

I took the one with the yarmulke down first for a better look at it. It looked like a doll of me.

“Why would you have voodoo dolls that look like us, though?” I asked her.

“Just a coincidence,” she pointed out. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I thought they looked like us, too.”

“What's this right here, though?” I fingered the deep rut on the side of the doll's lower leg. It didn't look like a mistake, though, like there was an imperfection in the ceramic.

“It's carved into their flesh,” she said, to which I threw it down onto the floor.

“Scott!” she exclaimed; she stooped down to pick up the doll from there.

“What?”

“Be careful with these! They're very delicate.”

She turned it over to make sure it was alright on the back. Meanwhile, I checked out the rest of the stuff on the shelf: a pair of heart shaped boxes, one of ceramic and the other of what I believed was cardboard. The ceramic one had been glazed and painted black and red, while the cardboard one had a floral pattern all over it. There was a small snowglobe with a silvery skull inside next to the ceramic heart shaped box. She had fetched a bunch of shells and bunched them up on a single spot of the shelf; right next to that was a small pile of guitar picks of all colors of the rainbow followed by another little black box, this one made of black velvet to which it resembled the box a ring came in. And then, at the far end of the shelf stood a white ceramic vase with a fake glass rose inside of it.

Kristina set the doll back on the shelf before us and that was when a timer went off with a soft little ding from the kitchen.

“Tea's ready!” she declared. “How do you like yours?”

“Uh, just a little bit of sugar,” I said to her.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah. I'm not really the biggest tea drinker. But I'm more than happy to have a cup, though.” I thought about Geddy and his love of wine, and I hoped he could get his hands on it soon enough.

“I have green, black, chai, and blueberry pomegranate,” she told me.

“Ooh, that last one sounds tasty!”

“I love that one,” she said with a glimmer in her eye. “It always puts me to sleep on the hard nights.”

She led me into her cute little kitchen with the rich blue paint job and the silver cookware dangling over the sink. She picked the bright blue teakettle off of the stove and poured the hot water into a pair of white bone china mugs. And then she reached over the stove for the box of blueberry pomegranate tea for a couple of bags.

In the meantime, I looked about the room.

“Nice little place you've got here,” I started.

“It's my home,” she explained as she set the bags of tea into the water and let them steep. “Nothing more and nothing less.” She handed me the cup on the right to me. Her luminous eyes stared back at me as she brought her cup up to her nose for a whiff of the blueberry tea.

“You and I should jam together again,” she told me in a low voice. “We can do it down by the dock and watch the birds.”

“Watch the birds?”

“The huge birds,” she elaborated, “endemic to Boston. Their wings are the size of city busses.”

“Wow,” I remarked with a raise of my eyebrows. “'Planet Caravan' set to birds flying.”

“Or 'Here Comes the Sun.'” She rounded me towards the doorway again. I followed her into the living room. She swayed a little bit with every step, and I wondered where she was going with all of this. She took a seat on the little blue love seat underneath the window. A little sliver of gray sunlight shone through the window behind her, down onto the crown of her head. Her blonde hair shone in the light like a little crown. There was something here, something I didn't know if she was ready to tell me as if then, especially when I glanced about the living room and didn't see any photographs of her family.

I thought back to my spoken word tour and I talked about her in Boston, by coincidence. No one really knew her, not even her own family. She was like a treasure locked away from the world, and the sun on her head made me wonder if there was something more she hadn't told me yet. But I was there in her apartment with tea in my hand.

I took a seat next to her on the loveseat. She showed me a warm smile, which was accentuated by the sunlight.

“I'm glad you were able to come here to visit,” she confessed to me, to which she raised her mug towards mine. I clinked the rim of mine against hers, and then we took sips of tea at the same time. The tea was warm and sweet and perfect, so much that I thought it was going to put me to sleep.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I started.

“I have only so many pennies.”

“Why is that?”

“I'm sure you know how hard it is to be a musician.”

“Absolutely.”

“We're both starting out and it's—it's admittedly daunting. It brings me joy, sure... but at the same time, it's like I'm looking at the great wide unknown that's the music industry.”

Joey immediately came into mind right then. I didn't want to think that, though.

“Have you done gigs, though?” I asked her.

“Oh, yeah. It's how I was able to get this place and all my things. But I still have a lot of fear, though.”

“Why's that?”

“There's a lot I have yet to reveal to myself.”

“To yourself?” I echoed her.

“Yeah. There's a lot I feel that—I'm not too sure to reveal yet.”

“Well... do you have an idea? Like, to get you moving?”

“Yeah, but—nothing that really sticks, though. I often feel like I can't write a good song.”

“What's your definition of a good song?”

She swallowed but never answered. Instead, she took a sip of tea. There was a lot on her mind and she had no way of getting it out of herself. And she wanted to record an album. I had time, but I also had my work cut out for myself. I wondered if I could make my way back to Rochester soon enough without a means of getting there besides arrowhead.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020​​ || Day Sixteen: Showers ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Neji, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Divine Light ] [ AO3 Link ]

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Not every night is fit for travel.

Hooves gives muffled thuds along the well-worn dirt road. Above the pair of riders, a clear night sky has slowly been clouding, blotting out the stars as the weather subtly shifts. The summer evening is cool, a breeze winding its way through the trees that line the path.

“Another mile or so, and we’ll be upon the inn I mentioned,” the lead rider announces, glancing over his shoulder to his companion. “A suitable place to rest for the night.”

“Must we stop?” is the quiet counter question. “Surely we can make it by daybreak if we press on.”

“We may, but then we will be exhausted and sore from so many hours in the saddle. It’s best we take the time instead to give ourselves a well-earned respite. A few hours will make little difference. The day will be the same, and we’ll not need to waste daylight on sleeping.”

Lips slightly pursing, Hinata nevertheless offers no further argument.

“Besides,” her cousin then offers, glancing skyward as a few leaves begin to bounce around them. “I believe we are in for some showers, lady Hinata. It won’t do for you to get drenched and catch cold.”

“...very well.”

Urging their mounts to a swift trot from their steady walk, the pair hurry the last stretch before reaching the inn. Horses tethered in the adjoined stable, they step in and breathe sighs of relief.

Within, the main floor is largely taken by a tavern. Though the hearth is empty of flame, the atmosphere is still warm and pleasant, the lighting a cheery glow from lanterns and candles. Tables are filled with boisterous patrons, many indulging in spirited drinks before conceding for the night. At the opening of the door, several glance up but offer no greeting, returning to their own conversations once curiosity is sated.

“It is not...entirely suitable,” Neji mutters, eyeing the common rabble a bit warily.

“It will do fine. Not everything must live up to my father’s expectations,” is Hinata’s gentle counter, stepping further in as her cousin follows. “We are warm, dry, and will soon have full bellies and a place to sleep. There’s little else to ask for.”

Not looking as convinced, Neji nonetheless keeps to her side, his wary expression making it more than clear he won’t tolerate any interference as they approach the barkeep.

“Have you any free rooms?” Hinata inquires, ignoring Neji’s hawkish gaze behind her.

“Aye. Have y’need of one, or two?”

“Two,” Neji cuts in, earning a roll of Hinata’s eyes at his prudishness.

“Would you not feel better keeping a close eye on me?” she counters, glancing to him.

“Two rooms,” is his simple insistence.

She sighs. “...two, please.”

The keep then slides as many keys across the bar, each engraved with a number. “Take a seat anywheres y’like, and you’ll be served. May be a tad slow - the weather seems to be swelling our walls this evening.”

“It’s no trouble - thank you.” Pocketing the keys, Hinata heads for an empty table along a wall, settling primly on her seat. “...do you need to be so tense?” she then chastises Neji. “You’re attracting more attention than you’re s-scaring off.”

“Common places make me nervous.”

“It was your idea we stop here. I thought it better to press on.”

“I’ll not have you nodding off tomorrow when we meet the other dignitaries,” is his rebuke. “Even if it means going without rest myself.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. Honestly Neji, you can be so -”

“Begging your pardon my lord and lady, but...have you need for these extra seats?”

Both Hyūga turn to see a third figure standing at the edge of their table, gesturing to the empty chairs opposite them. Just beside him is a fourth. Both of raven hair and ruddy eyes, Hinata can quickly tell what they are.

Thankfully she recovers from her surprise faster than Neji, and smiles at the pair. “We’ve no need, no - empty chairs are vanishing by the moment. Please, sit.”

Even as Neji glances to her incredulously, Hinata ignores him and watches the pair of young men. The latter seems to be about her age, the other a few years older. “Much obliged,” he offers with a smile of his own.

Hinata offers a nod in return.

“Forgive me, but...I could not help but overhear your conversation. Are you by chance headed to Salustia as well?”

In spite of herself, Hinata blinks. “I...yes, we are. I am vying for a position under Auquiana. Are you…?”

“Ignitrios,” he replies. “Our family has direct ties back to the original blessings. My father insisted we try our hand. Speaking of which…” He holds his out. “Itachi, of the Uchiha. And my younger brother, Sasuke.”

“Hinata of the Hyūga. And my cousin, Neji. Forgive his expression, he is...wary to be so far from home.”

“As are we...we have rarely left the city of our birth. But such a chance could not be passed by so easily.”

“Precisely. Perhaps we can make the last leg of the journey come morning together? Given we’re all headed the same place.”

“An excellent idea. I must admit, it’s comforting to introduce ourselves in a more...secluded venue. I suspect the meeting proper will be quite daunting. Knowing we are not completely isolated will be a comfort.”

“A good point!” It’s then Hinata looks to the younger brother curiously. “Are you vying for a position, or…?”

“I’ll be content either way,” is his reply, tone low and soft. “If I’m chosen, so be it. If not, I’ll still be an attendant for my brother.”

“That is Neji’s hope: to be my aide should I be chosen. But that all remains to be s-seen, of course. I’m sure I will be far from the only hopeful.”

“My brother is heir - I have little doubt he’ll take the role,” Sasuke replies, and she can’t help a smile at the pride in his tone. “He’s far better suited for politics, anyway. I’ve not the patience for them.”

“They can be quite daunting, yes. But I am eager to try and make a difference. My clan has long been divided, and...I have hopes of unification should I be accepted.”

At the idea of division, Sasuke’s brow furrows in obvious curiosity. But before he can ask more, a server finally finds them and asks for their orders. The group then fall back into easy conversation, Neji soon finding a conversational partner in Itachi as Hinata speaks to Sasuke.

“Have you ever been to Salustia?”

“Once, when I was very young,” Sasuke replies with a shrug. “I remember little of it.”

“I’ve never been...but I’ve heard it’s breathtaking. So much white marble and beautiful architecture. And the statue of Luxeria…! I cannot wait to see it with my own eyes.”

“That’s about all I do recall, admittedly. It’s far larger than you imagine it to be. And looks like it could leap to life at any moment.”

“Wow...I’m all the more eager, then! And I’m glad we won’t arrive alone. I’m fearful we’ll get lost…!”

“The castle sits atop a knoll and overlooks the entire city. If you ever get lost, just head there and reorient yourself. It’s where we’ll all be for the majority of the time, anyway. All roads eventually lead to it. At least that’s what my brother says - he recalls more than I.”

“Another wonder to behold, I’m sure.”

“We never got that close, so I can’t tell you. But it was beautiful even from a distance.”

Sinking into daydreams, Hinata rests her chin in a hand, watching rain slither down the window beside her. She can’t help but hope the weather will be clear when they arrive - to see the capital in anything less than a sunny day will surely be a grave disappointment. Hopefully Luxeria will bless the day with sunshine...with a little help from Ignitrios, of course.

Maybe it’s fate she’s met some of the hopefuls under the banner of fire. Still...she’ll pray to Auquiana to stop the rain nonetheless.

...but at least it helped drive them all here.

Once full of both food and gossip, the four part ways and head to their rooms until morning. Neji, as always, gives Hinata stern instructions to best protect her space.

“I’ll be fine,” is her weary insistence. “Besides, you are right next door. Should I scream, you’ll be a moment away.”

“Damn right I will be,” is how he leaves it with a grumble, bidding her goodnight before shutting the door.

Readying for sleep, Hinata sits for a time atop her bed, listening to the rain with closed eyes. For a moment, she can pretend she’s home in her room in the familiar showers of her coastal city. But the ambient noise beneath the rain is still too telling to ignore.

She thought she’d be more nervous, but...maybe meeting a few others and realizing they’re just as human as they are has helped quell any unease. It’s a big day, but...she has faith it will go well. At the very least, even if she isn’t chosen to represent her element, she’ll have an experience of a lifetime. Seeing the Luxerian capital, meeting so many other el’ven people…! Something she’d never get to do under her father’s thumb back home otherwise.

And maybe, just maybe...she’s already made some friends to hang onto once it’s all said and done.

     I will admit, I am...not sure what this is, plot-wise xD I was at a bit of a loss for what to write. Not much actual ship content, my apologies. Seems I’m not as entirely over my burnout as I’d hoped, eh heh~      Anywho, just some fantasy verse nonsense, really. Uchiha and Hyūga crossing paths on their way to the same destination~ I doubt I’ll ever do a full fic of this crossover since I’m already doing one that’s more OC-centric. Got plenty of other ideas anyway, once I’m in a better place to sit and do so :’D      Buuut it’s late, I’m wiped, and better call it a night. Thanks for reading~

[mltrefry-ficwriter]

Merry Christmas! (But I think I’ll skip this one this year)

For @jukeboxomens​ Song event.

Rating: T

Word count: 14223

AO3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/28081347/chapters/68800308

Summery:  Human AU. Aziraphale Fell and Anthony Crowley met on a flight from New York to London and were instantly smitten with one another. But busy schedules, as well as plain stupidity, lead them to some hit and miss encounters that always feel a bit too long in between. As the calendar moves along, both begin to wonder if maybe it all means it just won't work out. At least, that's what they think until the hit December. A sort of songfic based on "Christmas Wrapping"

January

 Aziraphale Fell sat in his business class seat heading back from New York to London and sighed. His publishers in America were always a little more daunting to deal with than the ones back in the UK, but he couldn’t deny that being in person to discuss the movie rights to his book series was the smart move. After all, he may have lost nearly all his creative control if he hadn’t. Goodness knows what sort of butchering would have happened to his story if he hadn’t been there to amend that yes, he did want to be part of the scriptwriting process, thank you.

But it was done, and a bonus was being able to do a few book signings while he was in town and getting to meet his fans. He was terrible at social media, typically allowing his assistant Anathema to help him with it. Rarely did he ever post something directly. Gabriel had insisted it was absolutely necessary to have a “presence”, otherwise, he’d not bother. So these encounters had meant something to the people who read his books, and more so he got to hear from them directly.

The encounters from just earlier in the day were still warming his soul as he peeked out the window at the tarmac, watching as the people on the ground below went about their pre-flight work while they continued the boarding process. 

There was a shuffling to his right, and he half expected to look up and see a flight attendant, but instead, he saw a tall, thin man with red hair and sunglasses putting his bag in the overhead compartment.

Without meaning to, Aziraphale traced the man’s figure with his eyes. Lean, so painfully lean, legs for days. Not hard to look at in the least. Then he forced himself to look away and back out the window at something safe.

“Sorry, mate,” the man said as he dropped into the seat next to Aziraphale’s. “‘Magine you were hoping to get by without a seatmate.”

“It’s no trouble at all, I assure you. Plenty of room.” Aziraphale smiled as he turned back to the man and good lord he was not prepared for the cheekbones. Or the golden-brown eyes. Or the devastating half-smile. 

“Still, no one really shells out this sorta money to spend eight-odd hours next to a stranger.”

“Well, if I had been that adamant on not having a seat partner, I would have ensured I had booked one of those,” He said, indicating the middle row where single seats were located. “But it’s never particularly bothered me.”

“For the best then.” The man replied, giving a more toothy grin this time before offering his hand. “Anthony Crowley, last-minute flight booker.”

“Aziraphale Fell,” he said as he took Anthony’s hand and shook it. “You’re heading… home?” He wagered, taking Anthony’s accent into consideration.

“Yeah, can’t bloody wait, either. I love New York, but I hate America you know what I mean?” He asked with a wrinkle of his brow.

“I believe I do,” Aziraphale replied as the flight attendant went about closing the overhead bins. “New York, while it does have its flaws, almost feels like it’s an entirely different world. Especially when one goes into Central Park.”

“Bloody baffling, right? You almost can’t hear the city depending on where you are. Get in the right spots, no tourists, just the trees and the grass and the pigeons and you’d never even know.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement, nodding, noting Anthony buckling his seatbelt without being prompted. 

He didn’t really sit back in the chair. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if what Anthony was doing could be called sitting, but he was at least in the chair, buckled, legs out of the aisle.

“So were you in the city long?” Anthony asked.

“Oh, no, just a few days on business.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I’m an author. I was meeting with some of the folks here to discuss plans for future projects. What about you?”

“Oh, I’m a musician. Part of a band, not in the spotlight directly, yeah? I was here to help write a song with someone else.”

“You came all the way to New York to write a song?” Aziraphale asked as the flight attendant came back through, peeking in to make sure everyone was buckled.

“Well,” Anthony stretched out the word. “I was in LA originally, finishing up some stuff with my band when I got the call. Buddy I was working with is a friend so I thought I would pop over. Rest of them are already back in London far as I know.”

“Oh, well, staying behind, helping a friend instead of going home, that was very kind of you.”

“Shut up,” Anthony groaned, blushing all the same. 

Aziraphale was completely and utterly charmed. It had been a long time since he looked at a man and found him magnetic, someone terribly difficult to look away from. Anthony Crowley utterly gorgeous, and on top of it he seemed a rather nice person. Aziraphale couldn’t be absolutely sure, but there seemed to signs that Anthony was of the same persuasion as Aziraphale. Certainly not at all in the same league, but it meant that he didn’t have to worry about a sudden cold shoulder when his quirks and mannerisms gave him away.

The pilot came over the speaker, announcing their pending departure, and Anthony partly straightened in his seat. He stuck his hand in his pocket, withdrawing from it a pack of gum. He took out a couple of sticks, then turned to Aziraphale.

“Want one? For the…?” He scrunched his face, gesturing to his ears with his free hand.

“Oh, no thank you,” Aziraphale decline with a smile.

Anthony swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Right,” He said as if partly in a daze then turning abruptly away. Shyly, he said, “I, um, I never got used to it, ya know? The whole ear popping thing. Been doing this for something like fifteen years and I still can’t find a way to get’em to pop besides this.”

“I’ve always just made a swallowing motion,” Aziraphale said as Anthony began to unwrap one of the sticks of gum.

He fumbled it on his lap while making a sound in his throat that sounded vaguely like they were made of consonants of the English language but no real words.

Aziraphale pursed his lips to stop himself from laughing, though he was sure he didn’t do well to hide his amusement altogether.

“So,” Anthony began, his voice pitching a little high before he cleared his throat, “Author. What sorta books do you write?” Anthony asked, adjusting his position so he was turned slightly more toward Aziraphale and very much gave off the air of “cool”. He popped the unwrapped stick of gum in his mouth and began to chew as the plane began to taxi.

Aziraphale felt suddenly flushed. “Oh, well. Umm, you see… I write, umm, fantasy novels. Nothing, nothing too… I’m no Tolkien, that’s for sure. But there’s, you know… magic. Fantastical creatures. Sword fights.”

“Anything I might’ve heard of? Not a big reader, mind, so if I haven’t don’t take that as a marker of any sort of renowned.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “Well, it’s the, umm… well the main character’s Landon, and his friend is umm… Artemis, and-“

“Oh my god, you’re A.Z. Fell.” Anthony interrupted him, eyes wide and jaw dropped. “Listen, mate, I don’t read. When I say I’m not a reader, I’m serious. Books, unless it’s something in my field - a biography or something - I don’t tend to pick it up. If I want a fantasy world I put on a film. But I have listened to the audiobooks of your stuff, and it’s bloody brilliant. That gets made into a movie I’ll be first in line to see it. Hell, I’ll probably try to convince the band to try and get on the soundtrack.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale grinned. “Funny you should say that.”

 ~C~

 Three hours into the flight from New York to London and Crowley knew he was in love. 

He’d had moments similar to these in the past, meeting a random stranger and finding himself utterly enamored with them while making small talk in an airport, at a bar, wherever they may be. A pretty face with a bit of intrigue behind it, and he could probably churn out a song when he thought back to it. 

It never stuck, of course. Half the time he might get their number, only to either be ghosted or find the luster had worn off and he’d move on. He avoided saying he was the guitarist of The Demons, knowing full well it would mean they would look at him differently. These little flights of fancy never led to the reveal of his minor fame. And since he wasn’t usually the main focus of albums, photographs, and all that he could get away with it.

But this was so very different. Because Aziraphale was so very different.

By this point on a flight, Crowley usually had his earbuds in, either watching some movie he’d seen a dozen times or listening to something and drift off. But he couldn’t bear the idea of not talking to Aziraphale.

He was just so bloody interesting. 

The man had inherited a bookshop that had been in his family for generations, dating back to the 1800s. And while he did carry plenty of new, modern titles and sold those with ease and relish there was a case in the back of repaired tomes and first editions that Aziraphale wouldn’t part with if he could help it. Half of them had apparently been repaired by his grandfather or father, and he had far too much sentimental attachment to them to let them go. And while he would never host a book signing at his own shop, his was the only place in all of London that had signed editions of all his work.

Where Crowley wasn’t a big reader, Aziraphale wasn’t a fan of most modern music though he heard it often enough pumped through the speakers of the shop. He had heard of his band and was fairly sure that he had heard the music but couldn’t say for certain. Same with film and most television, Aziraphale had heard of it, was exposed to it now and then, but tended to stick to the classics he was fond of and familiar with.

“Except for The Lord of the Rings ,” he’d confessed to Crowley as the two ate from their fruit, cheese, and cracker tray, glasses of wine at their sides. “I must confess I was eager to see each and every film when they were released and did so in the theater no less.”

“And did you munch popcorn?” Crowley asked before popping a grape in his mouth.

“No,” Aziraphale scoffed. “I’m not afraid to admit I’m a bit of a snob when it comes to food.”

Crowley looked from him to the tray with an arched brow, and the bastard rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not saying this is any sort of haute cuisine, but it’s also some of the only food I’ll have for another five hours. Though I must admit I would hate to see what they’re serving back in economy.”

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed, taking a sip of his wine. “Suppose this isn’t so bad. So what will you do when you get back?”

“Probably begin another book,” Aziraphale admitted. “At least until they get me a script to look over, work with. I imagine my agent will likely try and sell more of them now. But either way, I foresee many hours of work on my laptop. To which my assistant will try and convince me needs an update. What about you?”

“Oh, easily we’ll be recording and promoting,” Crowley replied. “We won’t tour until next year, I’m sure. Just a few smaller gigs throughout the year, slowly starting to unveil songs and such. Be busy, but I’ll get to sleep in my own bed at the end of it.”

Yell at his plants, but he wasn’t about to tell Aziraphale that.

“It sounds lovely,” Aziraphale commented. “What more do you miss about London aside from your bed?”

“Ooooh,” be blew a breath out of pursed lips, looking at the ceiling of the plane. “St James Park. Love walking about there. And maybe this little bar not far from my place where I like to get a quiet drink.”

“I’m a big fan of St James Park myself,” Aziraphale said before taking a sip of his wine. “I frequently go to feed the ducks. Helps work out my writer’s block.”

“Same. When I’m writing. Most times I go just to feed the ducks. Usually… toss a few peas down, then chuck the next few bits towards some unsuspecting picnickers. Gets the ducks to sorta bug them for a bit.”

“You’re quite the mischief-maker,” Aziraphale said with a smirk that would have made Crowley’s knees buckle had he been standing.

As it was, he had to shift a bit in his seat.

“Can be.” He agreed.

By the time the flight landed it was dark out, Crowley was exhausted but so utterly happy. He’d spent the whole time talking with Aziraphale and was walking off the plane without his heart, having decided to give it the cherubic, old-timey professor sorta man he just happened to sit next to by chance.

“Well,” Aziraphale said as they grabbed their luggage from baggage claim. “It was lovely to meet you.” He offered Crowley his hand.

Crowley beamed, taking it, clasping the wonderful warmth of it and shaking. “You too.” He said, someone calling Aziraphale’s name causing the men to look over. 

“Ah,” He said as a gorgeous, witchy looking woman smiled and waved him over. “That would be my lift. I probably shouldn’t keep her.”

“Yeah, right, gotta… get my car.” Crowley stuttered. “So umm, yeah….”

Aziraphale gave him another one of those grins, then wheeled his tartan suitcase toward where the woman was waiting just on the other side of the security line.

Crowley watched him the whole time, and was pleased as punch when Aziraphale turned and gave him a little wave when he spotted him still looking.

Crowley then began to make his way out of the airport to the secure parking facility where the Bentley had been kept while he was away.

He was nearly there when it hit him like a ton of bricks that he never asked for Aziraphale’s number.

“Fuck,” He said rather too loudly, earning him a glare from a well-to-do looking woman. He gave her a sarcastic grin then moved with a bit more purpose to where the Bentley was waiting, wondering what the chances were that he would find Aziraphale’s number in the directory, or what bookshop he actually owned.

 February

 “Well you’re a bloody idiot, aren’t you?” Bea said, smacking Crowley upside the head with their drumstick.

He lifted his face from his hands long enough to glare at his petite band member before reburying them. He felt a hand on his back, knowing it was Hastur’s, and braced himself for what was coming.

“Don’t feel too terrible. At least you didn’t-“

“Tell the story of how you told Scarlet Johanson to fuck off again, and I swear, Hastur, we will all murder you gladly.” Ligur interrupted, saving Crowley from hearing the tale for at least the dozenth time. “And I doubt very much she had wanted your number anyway.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted his number. Bloody hell he was fucking gorgeous.”

“So why don’t you call the publishing house and ask for his contact info?” Bea asked, and Crowley dropped his hands to look at them as though they had spoken a completely different language.

“Right, yes, of course. I should just call them up. Right, yes, excuse me, just looking for the contact information of one A.Z. Fell. Wondering if you might help me with my inquiries.” He mocked in return.

“Throw your name around.” Bea shrugged.

“Yes, my name. As the guitarist of The Demons, I would be widely known by name outside the music industry. I’m sure they’ll drop everything as quick as they would for ol’ Ligur here.” He gestured off to the side. 

“Well, what good is celebrity if you don’t use it to your advantage?” Bea asked. “Where’s this bookstore he has. It’s never mentioned in his bio. Then again, it’s a half-faced picture and he goes by A.Z..” 

“I don’t know. You’d think I’d have been smart enough to ask where in London his little bookshop is, but I didn’t because I’m a bloody genius.”

“Well, suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Bea said in their stoic way. “You’ll either find him or you won’t. But not in time for the Brit Awards, so figure out who you’re taking so we can call Tracy and let her know already.”

 ~A~

 “Oh,” Aziraphale said as he caught sight of a very familiar face on Anathema’s television. “I guess he’s gay after all.”

Anathema looked from him to the TV just as they showed Anthony with a half-smile, a rather handsome looking man with his hand in his.

“Tabloids said they broke up.” Anathema commented in a “huh” sort of tone, and Aziraphale couldn’t help gaping at her. She watched the TV for a moment, narrowing her eyes before shrugging and going back to the magazine she was flipping through while they waited for the actual award show to begin.

For reasons Aziraphale couldn’t fathom, Anathema had managed to convince a few of the people from the publishing firm to bet on various awards given out, and she insisted Aziraphale join her with his laptop and a bottle of wine so they could toast all of her victories. Apparently there enough people who hadn’t known of her talent for predicting outcomes with uncanny results. 

He had had every intention of writing on his latest draft, but it seemed now Aziraphale would find his eyes focused on the television more often than not in order to glimpse a look at the beautiful stranger he met on a plane.

“Who’s he with?” He asked Anathema.

She didn’t even look up from her magazine. “He’s with an actor he was dating last year. Not anyone too well known, was pretty sure he was only using that guy to get ahead but it didn’t work.”

Aziraphale felt a pang of pity at the idea of Anthony being used in such a way. That someone would only ever consider dating him to advance their own career. If he’d had the chance, he would….

But it didn’t really matter, did it? No, he mucked that up well, hadn’t he? Not even asking for an email or a phone number. And anyway, it probably didn’t matter. Anthony Crowley probably walked away from the flight with a fun story about meeting an author he liked, getting some insider information, and likely would

April 

 The flat in Mayfair was starting to feel stifling. It was still sparse and mostly utilitarian, but after a week inside, writing, recording a few demos to get back to Ligur and the others, Crowley was beginning to feel caged in. 

Ligur’s voice was something else, smooth and beautiful, deep in a sensual way, easily what anyone would call tempting. Bea was the sort of drummer many strived to be. Hastur…. Well, Hastur had never broken a string to Crowley’s knowledge, and that was something he supposed.

But none of that would matter if there wasn’t a killer song for them to apply their talents to, and that’s where Crowley really came in. Because unlike the others, Crowley had an imagination. He didn’t need to be angry to write a song that expressed that rage. He didn’t need to be in pain to supply an adequate amount of angst. And he’d never been in love, not properly, and yet they could top charts with their love songs. He had a vast amount of songwriting awards in his office to prove it.

And yet. Yet. Being in love with someone he hadn’t seen in literally three months (two at a stretch, they did meet at the end of January) was beginning to provide some heavily romantic and very angsty material that The Demons didn’t want anything to do with. It was, however, selling to other musicians spectacularly well.

Which meant, of course, that there were so many people wanting him to fly here or there to help them with this album and that. The offers were bountiful, and since Bea and Ligur were currently bickering about bringing Dagon on as a full-time member of the band again, there wasn’t anything getting done within The Demons.

And if Hastur asked one more time if Crowley wanted to get together for a drink, maybe a jam, Crowley may damn well lose his mind.

Still, did he really want to go out of town again, and nearly all of the best offers for co-writing was across the pond. He liked London. He liked England. But the money would be really good, and he could work out some of these excess feelings through lyrics and melody.

He needed to get some air, for a walk, clear his mind so he could possibly make a bloody decision and get back to Tracy with a decisive answer as to where he was going to be for the next few weeks, if not longer.

Grabbing his jacket, putting on his sunglasses, slipping on his snake-skin boots, and Crowley glared in warning to his plants before heading out the door. 

He hadn’t been at all surprised when his feet led him to St James Park. Admittedly since that encounter in January, he’d taken to walking there almost exclusively. Once in a while, he would wander into Hyde Park for a change, but he constantly worried that maybe that was the one time the person he wanted to see the most was feeding the ducks somewhere else.

The crowds were thin, the dark clouds above threatening to open up at any moment and unleash a down power on unsuspecting tourists. He wasn’t really any more prepared for the possible deluge himself, but it was always a bit funnier to watch people with the big, expensive cameras and their fanny packs go fleeing. As if they hadn’t realized they’d chosen one of the rainiest places in the world to pay a visit to.

Crowley weaved his way along the path, fingers in the pockets of his denim and a swagger to his hips that he really couldn’t control, something that fit when he looked more like the rock star he rightfully was.  Though strangers who saw him would likely not know what to make of him. He hadn’t done anything with his hair so it hung a bit flat against his head, and he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days which allowed a nice layer of growth to form on his face meaning that even the biggest fans of the band likely wouldn’t pick him out of a crowd. 

He probably should have done something before he left.

Crowley made his way toward the duck pond, prepared to watch the little bastards as they bothered some unsuspecting fool when he stopped so suddenly he nearly fell on his face.

Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale was standing exactly where Crowley tended to go, still looking exactly like some stereotypical processor without the elbow guards on the sleeves of his beige morning coat. He was wearing a waistcoat, as well, paired with a tartan bow tie. His trousers were a shade of color between the coat and the waistcoat, making the blue collared shirt a pop of color in the monochrome. He gripped the handle of a white umbrella as one would a cane, both hands resting on it making him look that much more dapper.

No one had the right to look that gorgeous while also being completely ridiculous and Crowley very nearly took out his phone to snap a photo of him just in case he would never catch a glimpse of the man again. But that was something paparazzi-like, and Crowley couldn’t bring himself to stoop to that sort of low.

He recalled how he looked, and very nearly turned around and went back to his flat so he could at least look somewhat like the successful man he was. Lucky for him, some higher function he could thank later had his feet moving forward with more confidence than he’d ever recalled faking before, ensuring he wouldn’t let the chance of Aziraphale slipping away happen.

As he neared the Aziraphale, the blonde man glanced up, then did a double-take before his eyes positively lit up and a smile graced his lips.

“Anthony.” He said with utter delight.

Crowley’s knees buckled a bit.

“‘Lo,” He grinned back. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Yes, quite,” Aziraphale replied. “And how’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know,” Crowley replied vaguely, shrugging one shoulder. “Working. Pretty much always working, really. You?”

“I’ve been well, thank you,” Aziraphale replied, the smile no longer reaching his eyes. “I, umm, saw you on television back in February. Congratulations on your awards, you must be proud.”

Crowley blushed but shrugged. “Yeah, guess.”

“Your partner looked very happy for you, anyway,” Aziraphale added, and Crowley narrowed his eyes at him a moment, trying to figure out what the deuce he was on about. “The, umm, the fellow there. That you went with, I’m afraid I don’t recall his name.”

“Oh, John!” Crowley half yelled, startling a few of the waterfowl nearby. “Oh, yeah, no he’s not… he’s not my partner. I mean he was, once, but we broke up last year. I just asked him to go with me then. See, Ligur always brings his wife, and Hastur tends to bring a friend of his. Bea and Dagon have been going together since … fuck, I can’t even remember. Since she first started touring with us? I just didn’t want to go alone, ya know?”

“I suppose it is rather lonely, otherwise.” Aziraphale bowed his head, looking at his hands where he gripped the umbrella.

“Take it there aren’t any sorta literary award shows where you would ask a former flame to tag along?”

“Not so much, no,” Aziraphale replied with a half grin that went nowhere near his eyes. “And if there were, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have a former partner I could ask. The ones I parted with amicably all have new partners now, and those I didn’t… well, why in Heaven’s name would I ask someone I didn’t part on good terms with to something like that?”

“No, guess not.” Crowley replied, trying his best not to remember the screaming fight that had ended with John storming out of the Mayfair flat, the smashed potted plant on the floor that was the victim of one of his great, dramatic fits, and the vow Crowley made to himself never to date an actor again. “So, no former flames. Are you… seeing anyone now?”

That went, to Crowley’s mind, about a smooth as a pumice stone, but he couldn’t rightly think of a better way of approaching the subject. Award-winning lyricist praised for the way he could string words together in a poignant and eloquent way, and he stumbles on the most basic question. 

He watched as Aziraphale’s eye crinkled ever so slightly, and a wicked smirk curled his lips.

“As a matter of fact, I am not. I’ve actually come from what was easily the worst date I’ve had in ages.”

Crowley blinked, then looked at his watch. “It’s bloody eleven o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday.”

“Yes, I’m aware. He’s a friend of my agent, I mostly did it as a favor to him. The man was persistent to the point of obsession. I had thought if I told him the only time I was available was early on a weekday morning then he would have to back down. Sadly, he agreed.”

“No chance for the poor sap, eh?”

“Oh, none,” Aziraphale said emphatically. “I’d met him at writer’s convention last year, though he is neither writer nor agent. He merely wanted to be there for the sake of it, though I can’t understand why. He’d been hounding Gabriel - my agent - ever since, though I had never had an interest. I still don’t, and to be frank, am even less willing to see him again. I had Anathema call me to fake an emergency.”

“Ha!” Crowley barked, “what emergency happens that early in the morning?”

“A problem with the register at the shop. Which is next to impossible, because the thing is an antique. My assistant manager, bless him, is inept with modern technology. While updating the system would certainly make things easier, I would hate to see what sort of damage he can do.”

“Quite right,” Crowley grinned. “So,” Crowley said a bit too loudly, earning a disgruntled quack from a mallard that he ignored. “Bad date. Not doing anything or seeing anyone. I’m not doing anything or seeing someone. Perhaps….”

“Yes?” Aziraphale smirked knowingly.

“Could I tempt you to a spot of lunch?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale’s smirk turned into a smile.

“Temptation accomplished.”

 ~A~

 The pub they went to was the sort that served a proper English fish and chips and a pint that somehow paired well with the food without trying. In a corner booth near the back, Aziraphale and Crowley ( “Please call my Crowley, no one ever calls me Anthony.”) carried on as though they’d been friends for years and not a pair of men that met exactly one other time.

They talked about everything and nothing, a pint with lunch becoming two or three more heading into dinner. Around them, the crowd waned and grew once more until their server came by and pointedly gave them their bills. She did so with a knowing smirk so reminiscent of Anathema Aziraphale was starkly reminded that he hadn’t done a single bit of work - writing or at the shop - all day.

“Oh,” he said as he looked at the slip of paper. “I suppose I really should be getting on. I’ve been rather neglectful of my duties.” He added with a quick upturn of his lips.”

“Shit, suppose you probably wanted to get some writing done.”

“Oh, it’s no bother at all,” Aziraphale waved Crowley’s concern off. “I’ll go and let Newton and Alice head home, close up, do some writing this evening if I can.”

“Is it far from the shop to your home?” Crowley asked as the two of them stood, each moving slowly to the bar to pay their tab.

“No, it’s right above the shop.” Aziraphale grinned. “It’s a bit small, only one room, really. But I’m rather fond of it. Admittedly it looks almost like an extension of the shop, what with all the bookcases and their wares. But they were some of the original cases from when the shop first opened, and while I did have to modernize it for safety reasons, I simply couldn’t part with some of the better ones.”

“A one-room flat above your shop?” Crowley asked as the bartender took their pound notes and bills to ring them through. Once they were given the wave that they could leave, they meandered to the doors. “I mean, I know it’s not really my business, but you’re a best selling author. There’s bloody merchandise for your novels. You mean to tell me you don’t make enough to afford something a little more grander? Or is it a choice, or you need to live there for trust reasons?”

“Ah,” Aziraphale blushed even though he had nothing to be embarrassed about.

They emerged out on the sidewalk, concrete beneath their feet stained darker from the earlier rain that mercifully had already stopped. Aziraphale looked up and down the road for no reason at all, then down at the handle of his umbrella. 

“You see, yes. I suppose… I would have made that much over the years. The thing is, though, I uh… well the money. Most of I … I give it away.”

Crowley blinked.

“Sorry, you what?”

“I give it away,” Aziraphale said with a shrug. “I kept a good chunk, don’t get me wrong. Enough to ensure I would live comfortably if I never wrote another book again or even sold the shop. But I don’t need big and fancy. I pay my employees more than a fair wage, Anathema included. The rest? I give to charities. Anonymously, of course, I would hate for it to get out on the internet that I donate as much as I do, I would rather not draw the attention. But yes, I … give it away.”

Crowley stared at him with something like awe, his sunglasses had come off when they were inside and had yet to be replaced. It made Aziraphale shift his weight from one foot to the other, want to look anywhere else but at the beautiful man who seemed entirely focused on him.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” He asked with a sideways glance at Crowley.

“Like what?” Crowley blinked, shaking his head subtly. “Sorry, you’re just so bloody selfless. Give it away? I know people with three houses because it never occurs to them that maybe they don’t need it. Damn angel, you are.”

“Oh please,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes but really couldn’t help but smile from the warmth that surged through him. “Much as I hate to-“

“Let me walk you,” Crowley offered, gesturing for Aziraphale to lead the way.

Aziraphale turned toward the shop, leading Crowley through the streets in silence at first.

“So,” He started. “What’s next for you, did you say?”

“Not sure.” Crowley sighed. “Still trying to debate if I want to go write with others or not for a while.”

“Right,” Aziraphale nodded, suppressing the need to tell Crowley he wished he wouldn’t go anywhere simply because he had no reason to say that. They weren’t together, they weren’t even friends, not properly.

“But, I mean, even if I travel I could… call you?” Crowley offered uncertainly.

Aziraphale stopped and looked at him, eyes a bit too wide. “Oh, really?”

Crowley shrugged. “Why not?” Then smacking himself, yelled, “phone number!” 

A woman passing them on the street looked at Crowley with uneasiness before hurrying along.

“What?” Aziraphale asked him.

“Phone number. Mine, let me, yeah, I could… give it. To you, that is… if you want it.”

Tension Aziraphale hadn’t realized was building suddenly left his body, and he grinned rather bashfully. “I’d like that. Perhaps I could give you mine as well.”

Crowley took his mobile from his pocket so quick he nearly dropped it, fumbling with it as he did. After a few moments of his long fingers dancing around the screen, he handed it back to Aziraphale. “Just... Yeah.” He said, gesturing to it before attempting to stuff his hands in his pockets, and looked anywhere but at Aziraphale.

Once his contact information was given, Crowley took his phone and they continued walking in silence. It was only a little awkward, but if Aziraphale was honest with himself he could admit he wouldn’t have known what to say if he tried. Oh, he could have his hero give a declaration of love that had readers sighing wistfully, that he was told many times over could be felt deep in their soul. Talking to a beautiful man whom he fancied quite a bit in real life, however, was next to impossible. 

So they spent that walk back to the shop subtly stealing glances at one another and blushing and smiling when they were caught. 

Once at the little shop at the corner, Crowley looked up, and his jaw dropped.

“Seriously?” He asked, pointing up at the simply gold lettering above the shop.

Aziraphale grinned. “Now, I’ll have you know that A.Z. Fell - that would be Andrew Zachery Fell - was the original owner of the shop in the eighteen hundreds. The name remained, but for obvious reasons, the number isn’t listed as such in the phone book. It’s simply Fell and Co’s Books and Sundry.” 

Crowley giggled, shaking his head. “Suppose that’s why it hadn’t popped up when I Googled you.”

“Precisely.” Aziraphale agreed. “So, perhaps we can do this again sometime? Perhaps… soon?”

“Yeah,” Crowley replied. “Yeah, definitely.”

Aziraphale smiled once more, then waved, going up the steps and entering the well-lit shop. 

“Date went well then?” Newton greeted him with a hopeful smile.

Aziraphale glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of Crowley as he walked down the sidewalk away from the shop.

“I suppose that depends on which man I consider my proper date.” He replied. While Newton stammered, he added, “Go home, Mr. Pulsifer. I’ll take it from here.”

Newton knew better to argue, so he didn’t. 

And Aziraphale spent the last hour of the shop’s opening hours forming a dashing hero with red hair and golden eyes in his mind, not the least bit ashamed of where the inspiration sprung from.

June

 They, of course, would not do lunch or anything even close to it for a while.

Crowley had indeed gone off to various places to work for a while, which limited them to random phone or video calls, as well as equally unpredictable text conversations since April. 

And, of course, among these many random and unpredictable conversations, the topic of whether or not the lunch they did have was a date had never come up.

Aziraphale was fairly certain it wasn’t.  

He had no doubt that Crowley had some interest in him, though how or why he couldn’t fathom. 

He certainly had an interest in him, but who wouldn’t. Crowley was so aesthetically pleasing anyone would be hard-pressed not to take a second look at him. But Aziraphale had also gotten to know the man behind the lovely face, and that man was so wonderful. Clever, witty, charming, playing at being cool when he was very much not. 

Aziraphale had given Crowley his heart without even having realized he’d done so.

But feelings and their reciprocation did not mean their singular outing was a date. And it certainly seemed to mean that they were going to talk about it.

Instead, they chatted about anything else.

“I hate coffee here,” Crowley complained over video, grimacing as he took a sip from a paper takeaway cup. “Realize we’re not known for our coffee, but we do it better than they do here.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Aziraphale replied, holding his phone a decent distance away from his face so it would capture him entirely. He took a sip of his wine and smirked as Crowley rolled his eyes.

“You’re the epitome of British, you know that?” He said fondly despite the scowl he tried to wear. “Surprised you don’t lift your pinky when you take a drink.”

“Only if the cup is dainty enough,” Aziraphale replied. “I just could never quite find a way to enjoy coffee. It’s far too bitter.”

“Says the man who’s likely drinking the driest of red wines available to him.” Crowley countered, his lips ticking up ever so slightly.

“Well, I have standards,” Aziraphale replied with a smirk. “How’s the work going, then?”

“Awful. She’s a bloody diva.” Crowley replied, seemingly not caring an iota if anyone heard him. “And she can’t properly sing, from what I’ve noted. She’s only here so she can say she has songwriting credit, but she contributes nothing and rejects everything. And she smacks gum, just,” He mimicked the sound, and Aziraphale grimaced. “Yeah,” Crowley said wide-eyed, shaking his head a little. “Exactly that.”

“And how old is she again?” Aziraphale asked.

“A few years younger than us. Mid-thirties, I believe. Been around for ages, she was in a group thing for most of it. She either left or was kicked out, I dunno. I don’t rightly care, either, she’s a bloody nightmare.”

“Perhaps she simply wants to feel heard. Probably didn’t get much say in the way things went before.”

Crowley moved his head from side to side, face screwed up in uncertainty. “Maybe.” He assented. “Possibly. I dunno. How’s the rewiring going?”

“Slow,” Aziraphale replied. “Dreadfully, painfully slow,” he took a pointed drink of his wine. “I do realize and appreciate the need for them to maintain the building’s original structure, but this fishing the wiring through the walls is taking forever. I’m glad they at least did my flat first since, as I think I would have absolutely dreaded the prospect, seeing them slowly move their way through the shop day by day.”

“Not sure you complained too much about that week in Paris,” Crowley smirked.

“Would have been much better had I had someone to share it with.” Aziraphale let slip.

Crowley’s features softened, a gentle hope glimmering in his eyes. “’Magine it would have been. Had you anyone in mind?”

“Oh, just this gentleman I’ve only ever seen twice,” Aziraphale replied casually while his heart pounded furiously in his chest. “I imagine there is likely decent coffee in Paris, so I’m sure he’d enjoy himself at least in that regard.”

“Probably wouldn’t mind a museum or two,” Crowley added with his own put-on casualness. 

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. “No, I don’t imagine he would.”

After a beat, Crowley said, “Sounds like a right asshole, though, only ever seeing you twice. I’m willing to bet he didn’t even give his number first go, the sorry sod.”

Aziraphale giggled in delight, taking a drink of his wine. “He certainly didn’t.”

“Ah, see, I was right. Asshole, don’t have anything to do with him.” Crowley grinned.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure he has his moments, but overall I think he’s rather nice.”

“Not nice,” Crowley half scowled. “Nice is a four-letter word.”

“Please, you can’t be that offended, can you?” Aziraphale countered with an eye roll.

“You had said something like that to me when someone could hear - like now - but in person, I might’ve had you shoved against a wall and gotten in your face.” He said with utter seriousness.

Aziraphale quirked a brow and barely suppressed a smirk. “Really?”

“Done before,” Crowley replied

“Against a wall and in my face? You’re not really making a case for deterrence. If anything, I might just add on a few other four-letter words -kind, good  - just to see what further responses I would solicit from you.”

He watched how even on the small screen of his phone he could see Crowley’s throat work and a slight blush creep up his cheeks.

“You’re something else, let me tell you,” He eventually said. “Do you talk like that to all the men you’ve only really seen once or twice?”

“No, but these are rather special circumstances, aren’t they?” Aziraphale countered, butterflies suddenly springing up in his stomach, fluttering about nervously.

“Yeah,” Crowley smiled. “I think they are, anyway.” 

“Crowley,” Someone off-camera said, “she’s ready.”

“Right, be right there,” Crowley told the person before turning back to Aziraphale. “Gotta go.” 

“Until next time then,” Aziraphale acknowledged.

“Bye, angel.”

Crowley disappeared from his screen, and Aziraphale dropped his arm down on his lap, sighing heavily as he rested his head on the back of his chair.

Oh, how he hated this. This being rather inconveniently in love with a man he never even really got to properly see in person, had barely in the physical orbit of. He wondered if this is how those who fancy themselves in love with a public figure they’d never met felt. If this deep yearning for something unattainable was more universal than he would have believed before.

The problem was that he knew the man on the other end of the call. He knew Anthony Crowley better than he knew Anathema. Certainly more than he knew Newton. 

Draining the remainder of his wine, Aziraphale decided not to dwell on it. He couldn’t change how things were, and it may be that before they encountered one another in person again, Crowley might meet someone else and that will be the end of things.

Rising from his chair, Aziraphale decided a nice, relaxing shower was in order before he turned in to bed and read until he grew tired.

 ~C~

 Why had he agreed to this date?

The bloke was bloody boring. He’d been droning on for the last twenty minutes about a coding language that Crowley had never heard of (not that he had really heard of any) and how it was superior to all other languages. 

It wasn’t that Crowley had found the man attractive, though he could admit he wasn’t hard on the eyes. It wasn’t even that the man had asked Crowley on this date directly. But one of the blokes he’d been working with for the last few weeks had mentioned he had a cousin who Crowley might get on with.

Crowley’s immediate instinct had been to say no, and sadly it had nothing to do with the fact that this bloke lived in America and Crowley lived in England. No, he only wanted to say no because of Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale who wasn’t actually dating. Aziraphale who Crowley couldn’t say for one-hundred percent certainty returned all the warm fuzzy feelings Crowley got when he spoke to him. Oh, the bastard flirted like no one’s business, often saying or doing things that would make Crowley blush and stammer like an idiot. But it didn’t mean that he actually wanted a romantic connection with Crowley.

So he agreed to this date, which he was now greatly regretting. No amount of good food or great wine was worth enduring this circle of hell, but Crowley hadn’t thought to come up with an escape plan, and just leaving seemed far too rude even for him.

His phone began to vibrate in his pocket just as the bill came by, and Crowley took it out to check the name, hoping to see one of the bandmates or even Tracy so he would have a viable reason to cut out.

Instead, he saw Aziraphale’s.

“Oh,” He said with an appropriate amount of worry, cutting the bloke off mid monotoned rant. “I’m sorry, really, I have to take this. It’s my, umm, landlord back in England.” He said, flashing his phone toward the bloke so he could at least see the foreign number. “I’ll, ah, just take the bill up and pay for the both of us, yeah? It was great meeting you.”

“You too,” The bloke said who didn’t seem to care either way. 

It caused Crowley to pause and blink but ultimately just shake his head as he grabbed the bill and headed for the front. He answered the phone as he spotted his waiter, flagging him down. “Hey angel,” He said, the waiter taking the bill and Crowley’s credit card. He pointed to the front, and the waiter nodded.

“Hello,” Aziraphale replied a little shyly. “Why do I have the feeling I’m calling at a rather inconvenient time?”

“Actually, you’re calling at exactly the right time. I think my brain was about to liquefy and drip out my ears. Terrible dinner with a bloke.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale replied, and Crowley tensed at the tone. “Oh, that’s… I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t be. I wasn’t interested. It was a thing.” He replied as the waiter came back with the receipt. Crowley signed it, adding a very generous tip before taking his card and waving, heading back out into the warm evening.

“Right,” Aziraphale replied, still sounding uncertain.

The realization of the time had Crowley stopping a little ways away from the restaurant, trying to do the mental math as to what the time would be in London.

“Why are you… is everything alright?” He asked, heart starting to pound in his chest.

“Oh, yes. It is, I just… well, I couldn’t sleep, so I thought perhaps if you weren’t working we could chat. But if you’re in the middle-“

“I’m available,” Crowley assured, making his way down the road to the temporary flat he’d been living in while working here.

“You’re almost finished there, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but when I get back Ligur wants us in the studio.” Crowley sighed heavily. “Means not a lot of free time.”

“I suppose that lunch would be out of the question then.”

“We can try!” Crowley insisted. “I mean, I had a lot of fun when we did that last time, you know?”

“I do know.” Aziraphale agreed. “And I would love to do it again.”

 July

 “This wine is fantastic,” Crowley half groaned after taking a sip from his glass.

“Told you,” Aziraphale replied smugly.

Crowley picked up a cheese cube, popped it in his mouth. “You know this is almost like the time we met. Only better nibbles and better wine.”

“I tend to agree.” Aziraphale nodded. “Though-“ He was cut off by a rather loud horn blaring in the background on his end, and he turned to glare at the traffic over his shoulder before turning back to the screen he had propped up somehow on his picnic blanket. “Though I couldn’t be absolutely sure without being able to participate myself. I’ll have to stick to tea.”

“I’m surprised you’re outside, given how hot it tends to get there,” Crowley commented with a frown before popping a grape in his mouth.

Aziraphale lifted his arms to the camera, and Crowley had to suppress a groan at the idea that the man he was pining for having his forearms exposed. It was bad enough that there was no coat, waistcoat, or bow tie. Agony that the top button of Aziraphale’s shirt was undone. Now he was exposing his forearms? Bloody torture, that.

“I realize inside is far more comfortable, given the central air and all, but there’s something to be said for feeling the sun on your face. That, of course, and the fact that the scriptwriters are inside and I would very much like to be where they are not at the moment.”

“That bad, huh?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale blinked.

“Well, they’re trying to make Meg and Landon a couple, for a start.”

“No!” Crowley snapped. “No, no! No! That jus- no! No, he’s meant to be with Artemis. He and Artemis… the kiss! The kiss that Artemis gives… while he’s sorta… what are they…?”

“One bloke thought it would be best to eliminate it altogether,” Aziraphale said, an icy edge to his voice that Crowley was certain would be a prelude to a murder. “Another thought they should change the speech to make it more buddy-like. A bromance, I believe they called it.”

“Do those idiots even understand that half of the appeal of the story is the fact that the hero has no intention whatsoever of ‘getting the girl’?”

“I would wager not,” Aziraphale replied with a sigh. He ran his hand through his hair (forearms!!) and glanced at the house before looking back to Crowley. “I’ve already spoken to Gabriel, told him this was a complete nightmare. He agreed we need to have a talk with the studio, tell them to either hire new scriptwriters or tell these lot to not take away the biggest selling point of the story.”

“You sound like you need a break,” Crowley said sympathetically.

“I rather do.” Aziraphale agreed, then smiled wistfully. “I regret not being able to spend any time with you before I left.”

“Don’t worry about it, angel. Shit happens.” Crowley replied, telling the ache in his chest to kindly sod off.

He’d been in the studio with the band almost every hour of the day once he’d gotten back from the States. Of course, just as they were finishing up, Aziraphale informed him that he was requested to join the writers across the pond. It seemed weird, but now Crowley understood why. 

“When do you head this way next? Soon?”

I’m in New York the first week of August. Maybe… if you’re still there?”

“Given that that’s a week from now, I would say so. If nothing else, I could possibly pop your way for a day or two.”

Crowley beamed. “I look forward to it.”

 August

 Coney Island was busy, the beach crowded, and yet they were essentially ignored. 

“So you’re finally going on a date with this bloke tomorrow?” Bea asked Dagon on the other side of her sitting up from her towel and looking over her lover at Crowley.

“Dunno if you can call it a date,” Crowley grumbled. “His agent got wind that Aziraphale was popping this way and insisted that we go on his big boat thing for the day. So, you know, not much is gonna happen.”

“You’re not having much luck with this guy, are you?” Dagon asked with a frown. “It’s been, what? Eight months of pretty much nothing?”

“We call. And text.” Crowley argued. 

“Right,” She said, looking at Bea, the two exchanging a rather loaded look.

“Hey, yeah, alright. It sucks that I haven’t actually physically seen him since April. But he’s clever. He’s clever and gorgeous, and a right bastard and I am quite in love with him.”

“In love with someone you’ve met twice. Yeah, you almost sound like a really rabid fan.”

“Not a rabid fan. I mean, I am a fan of his, but it’s not like that. We actually, you know, talk. Know each other.”

“Crowley,” Bea said flatly. “I’m not saying this to be mean, for once, but I think you gotta chalk this one up to a lost cause. I mean, think of what it was like when Ligur was dating that girl from that band in the beginning before he met Lenore. Their relationship was pretty much just like whatever you got going on with this author, only maybe a bit better because we toured together for a bit.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Crowley assured confidently, laying back on his blanket with his arms tucked behind his head, closing his eyes. “You’ll see, we’re gonna meet up tomorrow, and things will be just great.”

 ~A~

 “Crowley?” Aziraphale questioned when he answered the video call and found no image of Crowley looking back at him.

“Right, please don’t be upset. I can’t make it to the boat thing today.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Did something come up with work?”

“No,” Crowley hesitated. “But, umm… alright, don’t laugh. I’m going to turn my video on.”

“Alright, but I’m not sure why you would need to preface it with that, why would I - Oh good lord!” Aziraphale cut himself off and then promptly pressed his lips together in a herculean effort not to grin, let alone allow the laugh he really wanted to let loose out.

Crowley was red. His face, while still handsome, was very lobster like except around his eyes where he quite obviously had sunglasses. 

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale managed to ask with only a minor giggle. 

“It hurts to talk,” Crowley admitted. “It hurts to move my mouth at all. The assholes who I call friends and bandmates let me, a bloody ginger, fall asleep without reapplying the sunscreen to my face, and this is what happened.”

“I do hope you don’t have any television,” Aziraphale began to ask, but at the distraught look flashing over Crowley’s features, he giggled. Briefly. Just a little. “Oh my dear, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s tomorrow night.” He said. “Which is why I need to stay here, inside, aloeing, hydrating, just… trying to heal as much as I possibly can before they have to cake me in make up. When do you fly-“

“Tomorrow afternoon, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale said with a sigh, all the good humor at the situation gone at the realization that he wasn’t going to see Crowley as he’d planned. Like this whole weekend trip across the country had been for. “We’ll miss each other again. I suppose I could tell Gabriel I’m unwell? Sneak over to see you?”

“No, please, don’t. I’m not gonna be much company anyway. I’m tired, I keep falling asleep. I purposely set this alarm so I could call you so you wouldn’t wait around for me.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Aziraphale said without much feeling, though he still managed a bit of a smile. “I wonder when we’ll manage to be in the same area again?”

“I don’t know, we’re supposed to be popping up to Canada for a few cities after tomorrow night,” Crowley said dispassionately. He went to rub at his face and hissed, looking at his hand like it had offended him, then turned back to the camera. “I should… I should probably let you go, get ready and all that.”

“If you must,” Aziraphale said. “Until… when?”

“Call me whenever. Send me pictures of today, if you’d like.”

“Right, might do, then,” Aziraphale said. They gave a pair of solemn farewells, and then the call was done.

Aziraphale collapsed on the guest bed in Gabriel’s home and looked at his phone despite the screen being blank.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that in the eight months since he’d met Crowley, he’d only been in the man’s physical presence twice. They may talk nearly every single day, and speak on video as often as possible, but it seemed like a rather cruel twist of fate that their paths never seemed to cross. It had been easily the dozenth time since April their plans fell through, or had to change. Lunches, dinners, simple outings, all of it was held up for one reason or another. A schedule change, an unexpected cold, meetings that went on longer than expected. It was as though some higher power didn’t want them together. Fate put them together on the plane, reuniting them in St James Park, and ensuring that they would remain out of reach from one another.

He couldn’t keep doing this to himself. Aziraphale knew that if this kept going on for too long he would regret it. Being hopelessly attached to someone you couldn’t have never ended well. One more chance. Three at a stretch, and then he would call the whole possibility of anything more than friendship with Crowley a wash.

With one last wistful sigh, he got up from the bed to seek out Gabriel and infor

October

 September had brought with it a busy time for both. Aziraphale frankly couldn’t tell anyone what Crowley was up to for they barely did much more than send the occasional message.

Gabriel had decided that it would be absolutely imperative that Aziraphale have a book ready for release when it was announced there would be a film based on his work, and another one ready to go around the time the movie was released. Which would have been something Aziraphale would have readily agreed with had he any idea, any clue whatsoever what was supposed to come next. 

It was bad enough trying to figure out a plot or three, trying to twist his current draft into something that allowed for another few storylines. But trying to focus became worse when he discovered he’d missed Crowley in the shop not once, not twice, but three times in September.

“I would almost think you’re avoiding me,” Crowley said over the phone. Not even a video call because Aziraphale had wanted to work while he conversed.

“Hardly,” Aziraphale replied. “Though I could say the same. What is this now, two skipped lunches?”

“I have to meet with my manager. She’s lovely, I adore her, and normally she would be chomping at the bit to let me go out with someone I like, but with Ligur and Bea fighting so much… she wants these meetings more and more with her as a whole until whatever is going on blows over.”

“I understand, dear boy. Hardly like I haven’t had to reschedule because of my agent.”

“I know,” Crowley said mournfully, and Aziraphale tensed. “This… we haven’t… it’s been months.”

“I know,” it was Aziraphale’s turn to say, though it came out more of a whisper. He said it somewhere between acknowledgment and a plea. Understanding that this, whatever t was, wasn’t going anywhere. And a plea that despite his own quiet ponderings Crowley wouldn’t give in.

“So,” Crowley began, a bit of hope in his tone. “There’s this bloke who does a radio show here in London who has the best Halloween party ever. I have a thing I need to do around Canary Wharf earlier in the day. But, thought maybe you might wanna be my plus one. Have anything on the go?”

“No, not that I’m aware of. I can certainly make a point to take some time off. Will there be a costume require?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Crowley replied. “Nothing too fancy, though. You don’t need to go all out. Slap some wings, grab a halo, dress like you normally do, and call yourself an angel.”

“I think it would require a bit more than that.” Aziraphale pointed out with a smirk.

“I won’t complain if you show up in some sort of heavenly robe thing,” Crowley replied, sounding like he might be flirting a little.

“We’ll see what I come up with.” Aziraphale grinned. “But for now I must get back to work.”

“Right Angel. I’ll text you the details, alright?”

“Okay, my dear. Until next time.”

 ~C~

 It took him ten minutes after putting the call through first to the insurance company and then to the towing company before Crowley could work up the nerve to call Aziraphale. 

He would never admit to anyone that part of the reason it took that long was because his eyes stung and his throat felt like it would close up. He wouldn’t say that it took an impressive amount of lying to himself to make him find Aziraphale in his contacts and call.

It ran twice. 

“Oh, are you already close? Or perhaps I simply didn’t get your text right away. I know Canary wharf isn’t terribly far, but-“

“I, no, I’m not…,” Crowley interrupted then paused to sigh, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t think I’ll be making it tonight. It would take a miracle, really.”

Aziraphale was silent for a few seconds too long. “What happened?” He asked calmly, a note of concern in his tone.

Crowley looked out the windshield at his beautiful Bentley’s hood, knowing that something inside had come loose to make him putter over to the side of the road. He didn’t want to look at the back again, even if he could have. Despite four-ways and clear car trouble the asshole behind him didn’t slow down and ended up clipping the back of Crowley’s car. 

“My car,” Crowley started. “You know it’s vintage, which means special mechanic, and towing. Something… and then a guy…. Anyway, my point is… I’m not going to make it tonight. Not by the time, someone can come get me, and I do all the intake shit and whatnot for insurance.” He huffed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s… it’s alright.” Aziraphale said despite the heavy disappointment in his voice. 

“What did… what did you decide to go as?” Crowley asked tentatively.

“Oh, well, I suppose I won’t be um… but I had gone with a Victorian gentleman.” 

Crowley smiled. “Cheater,” He teased. “Pretty much how you dress every day.”

“Oh, hush you.” Aziraphale teased back, but Crowley could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

After a rather long stretch of time, Aziraphale said very quietly, “This is never going to work, is it?”

Crowley immediately wanted to deny it. Assure Aziraphale that this was a fluke, that there would be other times. But the problem was, and he knew, that this wasn’t a fluke, and there had been other times, and it was like the same universe that threw them together on the flight was now doing everything it could to rip them apart. Like Crowley asking Aziraphale for his phone number had set in motion a chain of events where they could talk all they wanted but would never properly see one another again.

“I want it to,” Crowley said, knowing it likely wouldn’t make a difference but wanting to put it out there anyway. His voice croaked a bit with regret, feeling the farewell already being spoken between them.

“As do I, Crowley. But it seems… well, it seems we just can’t get it right, can we?”

Crowley swallowed, his eyes blurring a little.

“We could,” He tried, “We could… Guy Fawkes day. You must… shit, I’m actually in Scotland for the 5th, umm….”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said gently. “I adore you,” the words held so much tenderness, but it was flavored too strongly with goodbye.”

“I adore you, too, angel.”

“And I think… well, much as I’m not one to believe in such things, the more we miss each other, the more I wonder if-“

“Please don’t say it,” Crowley interrupted. “I know what it feels like, I know, I thought the same thing.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said again. “You’re in Scotland than Ireland than France, and so on for the next month. You’re not sure what else is going to happen, you even said there was a strong possibility of needing to go back stateside.”

“You’re breaking up with me,” Crowley said flatly.

Aziraphale let out a watery laugh. “My dear, I think we would have actually have had to be together for there to be a break-up.” He sighed. “Perhaps, maybe, in the new year… maybe if you’re in town for more than a few days you could look me up, see if I’m available. And if I am, we will go have lunch again, and perhaps we can start this whole thing over.”

“Or we could just keep going,” Crowley argued.

“I adore you,” Aziraphale repeated. “So much. But I strive for honesty, and I honestly am not sure I can continue the way things are.”

Crowley nodded before realizing he would need to speak. “Right. Right, yeah, I … yeah.”

“I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale replied, his voice cracking. 

“Yeah, me too.” Crowley huffed, resting his head on the seat. “But this isn’t goodbye, right? It’s just… bye for a bit. To give you space, to see if maybe….”

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed. “Yes, just for a bit. A few months, maybe….”

Crowley heard the “maybe longer” that almost slipped out and was glad Aziraphale had never given it voice.

“Can I still text? Once in a while to keep in touch?”

“Oh, oh my dear, of course. Yes, absolutely I… I just… I want to keep you as my friend at the very least.”

“Me too,” Crowley said softly, voice barely loud enough to carry. “Anyway, I won’t keep you. And I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Aziraphale replied. “Mind how you go.”

 December

 “I hate to think of you alone,” Said as she followed Aziraphale around the shop’s back room. “You should come over! Newt’s coming, so’s my neighbor, Tracy. You’d love her.”

“Anathema, my dear, I really appreciate the offer. Truly. But I’m afraid I really just want to take some time to myself. I have finished two drafts to the point that I’m willing to let Gabriel look at. I plan to sit with a bottle of wine and a good book and enjoy that special sort of quiet Christmas always seems to bring.”

Anathema blinked. “Did you say bottle?”

“Yes, you’re right, of course, I think it’s more likely that there will be two, perhaps a third.”

“Lush,” She grumbled with a half-hearted smile. “As long as you’re sure. The invitation to come is open.”

“I’m positive,” Aziraphale assured.

It wasn’t actually what was likely to happen. 

After Halloween and the break-up with a man he wasn’t even really dating, Aziraphale poured himself into his work. Any moment he wasn’t writing he was either sleeping, eating something too delicious to be given half a mind to, or in the shop assisting until more staff came in.

And he only really just finished the work the night before, feeling as though he was finally finished and ready to move on to the more rigorous editing stages. The shop was in its last few minutes of business before they closed for Christmas eve, so when all was settled there would be nothing left to distract Aziraphale from the fact that a man who was rather perfect had slipped through his fingers.

He and Crowley still texted, of course. Their communication was spottier than it had been, far more random, but still very much them. The only thing they didn’t talk about was the man Crowley had been photographed with many times. Not that Aziraphale had been purposely looking for them, but he might have had a glance through the social media thing Anathema used, and he may have searched a few things. Which led to the images of Crowley with some bloke.

He supposed he could have asked, but how does one say “oh, I’ve seen you’ve moved on” without sounding rather like a stalker.

So Aziraphale did plan to read, to drink, but more he planned to allow himself a few moments to grieve while doing the drinking. To mourn the love that could have been with a man who was wonderful, and curse the stars for not aligning.

And, maybe, he might watch a film or two. There were some delightfully predictable holiday movies that would either lead to wistful sighing or mild raging.

Anathema probably suspected all of this, though she would say come the twenty-seventh that she predicted it. It’s probably why she kept staring at him while he bustled about pretending to look busy.

“Fine,” She said with a smile. “We’ll see you in a few days, okay? And call if you need to.”

“Will do, my dear girl. Mind how you go.” He said with a forced smile, giving a little wave to her as she turned and headed out the door. Once he was sure she was gone, he let out a sigh and flopped down in his office chair. A tiny bit of bookkeeping, then it’s up to his flat for some leftover lasagna and a bottle or two of wine.

 ~C~

 “Absolutely fucking not,” Crowley said pointedly as he checked on the very tiny turkey he had in his oven. Actually, it was labeled as a turkey breast roast, but he didn’t give a toss as long as it fell somewhere in the range of traditional.

“Oh come on,” Hastur egged him.

“No,” Crowley repeated. “Not going to any fucking parties, mate. I’m tired. It’s been a long-ass two months with Ligur and Bea always at each other’s throats. And if Eric’s going to be there? Look, he’s a great bloke, great on a keyboard, but it was low of Ligur to hire someone else when we’ve had Dagon doing this with us for years. All because he doesn’t want the fact that Bea and Dagon are a couple overshadowing him in the media.”

“Eric won’t be there, he’s with his partner in Edinburgh for the holidays. No drama.”

“Bullshit,” Crowley said, turning off the oven light and then checking on the rest of his little feast for one. “I have plans anyway.”

“You don’t have plans,” Hastur accused.

“I do,” Crowley retorted.

He wouldn’t say that those plans involved his little turkey roast, the potatoes that were premade and just had to be popped in the oven, the bag of frozen vegetables in the freezer, and the jar of gravy waiting on the counter. He didn’t mention he intended to watch the Muppet version of a Christmas Carol, and depending on how he was feeling, perhaps some other festive-

Wait. Turkey, potatoes, vegetables, gravy….

“Oh fuck sakes!” Crowley cursed.

“What?” Hastur asked.

“Nothing,” Crowley replied, glancing at the time, seeing now he would have to go a bit further than a simple walk to get what he needed. “Look, you guys enjoy your drunken merriment. I’m going to remember we’re in our forties and stay the fuck home.”

“Right,” Haster sighed, apparently giving up. “Enjoy your Christmas, loser.”

“Yeah, happy Christmas to you, too.” He grumbled before getting on his boots and coat and heading down to the parking garage to get his Bentley.

A blood loose fuel hose had been the cause of her stuttering to a stop nearly two months ago. The mechanic was good, though. Better apparently than the one who had serviced the Bentley just a month before the accident. He’d gotten the hose fixed, the dent properly taken out, and refinished the car just in time for Crowley to get her the day before. 

As he drove to the shop, he wondered how different things would be now if he’d only taken his car to be serviced by a decent mechanic. One who probably had hoped to make a little extra money off a semi-celebrity when the fuel hose inevitably needed fixing.

Would Aziraphale be his by the end of the night, or would they continue in this sort of cat and mouse over video they had been doing? Would the universe have deemed them ready to actually have what they both wanted? 

Probably not. Not with the way every other aspect of Crowley’s life had been going.

He wasn’t even sure there would be a band to be in for his minor celebrity come the new year.

Most everyone was home, even in this area of London, and so Crowley was able to find parking on the side of the road in front of the little shop. He got out, noting the first signs of new snow fluttering down around him, then went inside.

The little bell tinkled, and the man at the counter glanced up at him with a smile before continuing to serve the line of customers getting their last-minute wares.

Crowley weaved his way around the aisles, heading for the canned goods and spotting the missing piece to his sad little dinner: jellied cranberry sauce.

Prize obtained, he spun on his heel and headed for the cue,  prepared to spend the next fifteen to twenty minutes waiting to make his purchase.

The bell chimed over the door, and Crowley looked up from the can as the man in front of him looked over his shoulder to the door, and their eyes met.

“Aziraphale?”

 “Crowley,” Aziraphale clutched his bottle of wine a little tighter, unsure how to handle this unexpected encounter.

He hadn’t had anything more than a bottle of wine in his flat, which was rather suspect as he recalled Anathema leaving his flat while holding her bag rather more steady than normal. Likely out of concern for him since it was the cheaper bottle that had gone missing.

The cork in the good one had been stubborn, and Aziraphale had jerked just enough, just near enough to the counter, that he hit the bottle on the edge and smashed it. He got the cork out, at least.

Once the mess and himself were cleaned up, he put on his winter gear and headed out on the longer than he’d like to have walk to the nearest shop still open. The wine selection was poor, no surprise there. But cheap was better than none, and while he was rather particular he wasn’t going to spend all of Christmas eve night tromping around London looking for a place still open that had a bottle of wine at least a decade old.

He wasn’t sure why he looked up when the bell chimed a moment ago. Maybe to silently warn the patron that they would be in for a long wait, maybe just because he was curious. He hadn’t expected to see Crowley behind him seemingly completely unaware of his being there.

“H-hi.” Crowley stuttered, jaw still dropped and eyes still wide. “H-happy Christmas.”

“You as well,” Aziraphale replied warmly. He looked down to see the loan can of cranberry sauce in Crowley’s hand. “Forgot something?” He mused.

“Ah, yeah,” Crowley said, looking down at the can in his hands momentarily like he forgot he even had it. “Umm… was… well the turkey was almost done. Turkey roast, actually. And, umm… cranberries. Mum was always big on having them and…. Well, you know, I told you the whole thing. Just thought I would do right by her, you know?”

“You volunteered, I take it? Letting that fellow you’ve been seeing stay home, relax?” Aziraphale asked, moving ahead.  

Crowley frowned as he followed. “Not seeing anyone.” He replied.

Aziraphale frowned. “But the photos. On the, umm, insta-thing. And in the news. Well, no news, I suppose, but you know what I mean.”

“Oh!” Crowley’s face lit up, a smile curling his lips. “No, not seeing him. That’s Eric. Sorta’ve a war thing going on in the band right now. ‘S a long story.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, trying not to let the rush of relief overwhelm him as he found himself next in line. He paid for his bottle, then stepped aside, waiting for Crowley who glanced his way every couple of seconds.

Once Crowley had paid for his item, they headed out of the shop together.

Aziraphale found himself standing on the sidewalk a few feet away from the door, looking at Crowley who shuffled from one foot to the other.

“Well-“

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Crowley cut Aziraphale off, the words rushing out rather quickly as he suddenly went still. “You can come to my place, if you’d like. I, umm… it’s just me. And it’s nothing really fancy but it’s, you know, traditional, sorta.”

A whole year of wanting exactly this. A dinner with this man whom he’d gotten to know so very well, who he still loved rather dearly despite never having had a date with him.

He would never have been out had it not been for that silly cork in the bottle. He wouldn’t have had to work so hard for the cork to come loose if Anathema hadn’t presumably stolen the other. 

He could say no, let Crowley walk away, say he wasn’t ready to try this all over again. But after all those lost moments they could have had, that they planned, only to find himself in the same shop as Crowley on Christmas eve? Well, it felt like part of some grand, ineffable plan that Aziraphale wasn’t about to question.

He smiled, “I’d be delighted.”

 ~C~

 Christmas morning was bright and sunny, the light peeking through Crowley’s blinds and stirring him into awareness. He tightened his hold around Aziraphale and smiled against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin and thinking it was by far the absolute best Christmas ever.

They shared the dinner Crowley made with the bottle of wine Aziraphale had purchased. Like the plane ride, like that one lunch, like all their many video calls the conversation flowed easily. It was like they hadn’t spent nearly two months barely speaking, trying to give one another space.

“You know,” Aziraphale had said as they finished up their meal, “Call me an old silly, but I rather think that maybe we were meant to meet around now. If you believe in such things as destiny and all that.” He had amended before taking a sip of his wine.

“I had thought that,” Crowley had admitted. “That maybe fate or the universe or whatever was purposely keeping us apart.”

“You know I happen to be finished with writing for a bit. I imagine I might have about two weeks before I really need to get back to it all. Holidays and all.”

“Yeah, me too.” Crowley had agreed. “Maybe we can spend them together?”

Aziraphale had merely blushed and smiled but didn’t agree. Which wasn’t what Crowley had been hoping for since the moment he had seen Aziraphale in the shop.

It had felt like all the stars aligned and he was being given the gift of the one thing he really wanted that year for Christmas, his angel. A chance to maybe try this all over again. He couldn’t let Aziraphale walk away without an invitation, and Crowley tried very hard to continue to act cool when Aziraphale had agreed.

Dinner finished and they moved to the sofa. Another bottle of wine was open, and Crowley and Aziraphale lost themselves in conversation, drifting ever closer with one another with every lean forward to the coffee table. 

“You could stay for the night if you’d like.” Crowley had said when the clock hit eleven and the pair realized how much time they had lost together. “I’m not anywhere near drunk but I’m feeling the wine a little and I don’t dare drive. It’s a bit back to your place from here for a walk, and the buses-“

“Crowley,” Aziraphale had interrupted, causing him to snap his mouth shut.

Aziraphale had seemed to debate with himself for a while, hands wringing and brow furrowing until he sat suddenly straighter. He slowly reached for Crowley, cupping his cheek before leaning in at the same speed. Crowley was very certain he knew what was about to happen, but he didn’t dare move at all until Aziraphale’s lips made contact with his.

And then he went absolutely mad. 

At some point, they had stumbled down to Crowley’s bedroom.

“Happy Christmas,” Aziraphale mumbled sleepily, a smile to his voice.

“It is a happy Christmas indeed,” Crowley agreed, leaning away to allow Aziraphale to roll over and face him. He was given the gift of the first of what he hoped were many good morning kisses. “Have anywhere you need to be today?”

“No,” Aziraphale assured. “Anathema, Newton, and I all exchanged presents yesterday. And you, are you expecting anyone?”

“No, me and the band do something for the new year instead.”

“So I suppose, if we wanted to, we could stay here for the whole day,” Aziraphale observed as he ran a hand down Crowley’s back. 

“Oh, I rather like the sound of that.” Crowley agreed, leaning in and kissing Aziraphale as if he would never see him again.

 January

 When Crowley got home from the studio, he felt absolutely wretched. Days of being cooped up, sleeping on the floor when he could, drinking far too much coffee, and eating the absolute worst food he just wanted to climb in the shower, drink a liter of water, and sleep for a week.

But when he opened the door to the flat the most wonderful aroma of Italian herbs and warm bread wafted toward him. He could hear the faint bubbling of something cooking on the stove, and soothing jazz from the 1920s was playing at just the right volume on his high-end sound system.

He didn’t feel quite so wretched anymore, nor tired, and he shut the door with a smile. Tossing his jacket on the rack, and toeing off his boots, he scooted his way into the kitchen to find Aziraphale at the stove with a gentle smile on his face.

“You weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow,” Crowley said as he went up behind his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around him.

Aziraphale chuckled. “I bumped my flight up a day. There wasn’t anything I needed to do further, so I came home. Thought I would surprise you.”

“You did, I like it.” He said, kissing Aziraphale’s neck before going to get himself a glass of water. “So when I texted you that I was leaving the studio and would call when I got in?”

“I was already here. I came here right from the airport, actually. I caught a few hours of sleep, then simply worked until I heard from you.”

Crowley grinned, increasingly pleased with himself that he gave Aziraphale a key two days after Christmas. They had only just officially started to see each other, but it was hardly like they hadn’t already known more about each other than most couples do when officially moving in.

And since that day, they spent more time together than apart. It was almost like Aziraphale had moved in. There was a draw of his things and a spot in Crowley’s closet. He had a toothbrush by the bathroom sink and even had a few of his favorite books and records mingled in with Crowley’s collection.

“So, no charming ginger blokes on the flight then?” Crowley teased before taking a drink of his water.

“No, I actually was alone this time. No seat partner.”

“Good. ‘M not sharing.”

“Quite right,” Aziraphale chuckled. “Now, go wash up so we can have dinner together before you sleep.”

Crowley kissed his boyfriend quickly before heading off to do just that.

And after dinner, they did settle into bed. It was still quite early, so Aziraphale had brought a book, planning to read while Crowley caught up on some much-needed rest.

As he began to drift off to sleep, Crowley became quite determined that if they made it through the whole year with fewer video calls than physically being with one another in person then he would ask this man to marry him.

[masteringtheartof-france]

part two : why Paris ?

I grew up in Michigan, and started my undergrad as a fashion merchandising student. I quickly realized it wasn't for me, and transferred to the University of Michigan, where I studied art history and French. 

I went abroad for the first time a year before I started at Michigan, in 2012, when I was 18. My grandmother, who grew up in northern France, wanted to take my mom and I to visit her family still living there. We went for a month, spending most of our time in Brittany between Le Pouliguen, La Baule and Guérande, and in the north in Tourcoing. I was promised a trip to Paris if I went (as I was so terrified of the flight and of being so far away from home) and so my mom and I spent a week in Paris with my cousin, who was living there at the time. I remember being overwhelmed by how beautiful everything was, and I told my mom that Paris was where I knew I wanted to live at some point in my life. 

Paris was really my first big-city experience — I had not yet been to NYC, and had only been to Chicago twice for day trips in elementary school. We went to Detroit for the Thanksgiving Parade when I was young, but it wasn't until Paris that I really felt that bustling city vibe, took the metro, was able to explore and soak it in. I fell in love that first week, and haven't looked back. 

The summer after my sophomore year of college, I studied abroad in Paris for six weeks. It took a lot of convincing – although I knew I loved Paris, I was still terrified of being so far away from home for so long. The program, Arts in Paris through the University of Michigan, was truly incredible. There were 25 of us, and we had a three-hour, intensive French class every morning at the Institute Catholique de Paris. Then we had lunch and would meet our professor, the head of the art history department at U of M, at a different museum, park, monument, or cemetery for an afternoon lecture on the history of Paris through its art. If I wasn't sold on art history before that summer, I was 100% completely  in love with it after. The chance to live in Paris and really get to know the city was amazing, and I fell deeply in love with it. I knew it was only the beginning. 

My very last semester, almost finished with my double major in Art History and French, I decided to go back to Paris. I enrolled in the Advanced French Language program through Middlebury College in Vermont, which had a partnership with U of M's study abroad center. If anyone has done a Middlebury program, you know just how intense it is — Middlebury has one of the top language programs. We had to take a language pledge when we got to Paris, stating that we would only communicate in French for the duration of the program. (Of course, there was some cheating — it was hard to speak French with the students I already knew from Michigan, and the bigger the group, the more inclination to speak English together. But a few of my friends from Middlebury and I spoke only French together for months, becoming friends in French before we ever spoke English together.) We also took the TCF (Test de connaissance du français) the first week, in January, to gauge our French level, and took it again at the end of the program to see how much we had improved. (I went from a B1 to a C1!)

I took three art history classes at Université Paris 1 : Panthéon-Sorbonne, and two classes (art history and French) at Middlebury College (they have a tiny building near Madeleine!). Honestly, I wasn't a huge fan of the French school system. We were direct-enrolled at the Sorbonne, and the first day of class was a bit of a shock — the teacher passed around a sign up sheet for our exposés, and I went up to her after class, saying that as I was an international student, I was pretty sure I didn't have to do the presentation (because, seriously, the moment I heard presentation, I practically had a panic attack). Oh how wrong I was... Our grades in each class consisted of our exposé (yes, that means a 20 minute presentation, IN FRENCH, in front of a class full of French students, about an assigned topic), and our final, written exam. That was it. No homework, no assigned reading. Just an entirely too long, unabridged bibliography on every book ever written (or so it seemed) on the class topic, that I never bothered to read, as it was just too daunting (plus, they were all in French, and checking books out of the library isn't really a thing). My saving grace was that my grades came through to Michigan as pass/fail. My Middlebury friends didn't have it quite so easy, and many tears were shed by all as exam season rolled around. Needless to say, this was not the jet-off-to-Europe-on-study-abroad-and-visit-a-different-country-every-weekend kind of experience that most people have. I got a few weekend trips in to see family, but I had to wait until the semester was over to do the big trips. 

However, it was this semester of disciplined, full immersion that really helped me get fluent and comfortable in French. The exposés were horrible at the time, but I got more comfortable with speaking and presenting. Once you've presented in front of a room full of native speakers, in a language you're not quite comfortable in, a presentation in your own language is suddenly so easy. 

I moved back home after my semester abroad (after a month-long Eurail trip around Europe with my best friend) and tried to find a job, and figure what was next. I ended up back in my retail job in Ann Arbor, hating my lack of prospects and wanting to be anywhere else — but mostly just back in Paris. I got in a few little weekend trips with my boyfriend, but was really just miserable. Eventually, I got a job working retail in NYC, and made the big move — but my boyfriend wasn't ready to move, and I was making next to nothing, trying to support myself in the city. I loved NYC but knew that it just wasn't the right time, that I needed to have a real career if I was going to move there and be able to make it. So after my third move to a new sublet in two months, I decided to head back to the midwest and figure out my life. 

to be continued..

[beccarooni]

Ice Planet Chapter 3 - Storm

(A.N: Thorbruce week 2019 day 3! Prompt - Storm. This fic is part of a series called Ice Planet that you can find the rest on my blog, or on my ao3 teamthor. But if you only want to read this chapter, the basic premise is that thor and hulk are stranded on a planet of ice post-ragnarok, and their ship is currently wedged between a ravine.)

"Hello, brother."

Thor awoke with a start at the sound of the voice, low and threatening against his ear. The spaceship walls seemed to stretch and grow in the dark, twisting in and out of the shadows in front of him. 

He couldn't see where the voice came from. He couldn't really see much of anything. Not the sky, not the stars, and more alarmingly the reassuring mountain of green that he'd spent the night with seemed to have disappeared entirely. 

He opened his mouth to call out, but was met with silence in return. His throat felt tight, the words frantically trying to claw their way out into the open air, but dying into pained whispers before they could touch the cold atmosphere that stretched out in front of him. 

His muscles twitched, fighting to get up, but...nothing. 

If he had to describe it, it was a little like the grandmasters disk had been forced back into his neck. Tendrils of electricity paralysing his muscles, silencing his voice, keeping him pinned and muted against the uncomfortable floor. 

"Poor, poor Thor. You're rather pathetic without your friend to help, aren't you?" 

The voice came again, the mocking tones accompanied by the slow sound of heeled footsteps heading in his direction. He couldn't see beyond the ceiling staring back at him, couldn't move his neck to turn and look, but he knew who that voice belonged to. 

"Such a shame." Hela's voice drawled, and he fought back a flinch at the sound of the cold metal biting the night air - the sound of a sword materialising out of the dark. 

He felt the prick of the blade poke against his throat, not enough to draw blood, but enough. Enough. Ice cold fear gripped his veins as the sword made its way up to his face, cutting a fine line of shadow against his skin. Knees met his chest, the weight of his failure laid over him, the weight of his city, his home, burning in front of his eyes stole his breath and pounded against his ribs. The ashes of Asgard clogged in his throat, as the dagger brushed almost cruelly gently against his eye. 

Hela chuckled, darker than the night sky itself. He almost wished she'd say something. Give an evil speech, an evil cackle, an evil something. Anything. Anything but the silence and the waiting for the blade to fall. Anything but that. 

The sword fell across his face. 

Asgard burned. 

Thor woke, cold and somehow sweaty, shooting to his feet the moment his world stopped spinning. Adrenaline thudded through his veins as blankets tumbled to the floor, and he staggered towards the light of the moon and the stars and somewhere, somewhere far out there was home. Home wasn't gone. It was different now, a crawling spacecraft packed with Asgardians and Sakaarians, but still there. 

Still there. 

Hela was gone. He was okay. 

Thor groaned quietly, lowering himself carefully back onto the floor. Shaking fingertips brushed the heavy material of his eyepatch, traced around the dark spot of vision that honestly he was still getting used to. Dark metal met scarred flesh as his hand made its way carefully down his face, reaffirming memories that didn't need revising. They never would. The one thing he could truly be sure about now was that he wasn't going to forget about his home. The golden spires crumbling under Sutur's sword. The fire and brimstone and sulfur choking his lungs would never leave him, not really. 

It was just another thing to add to the list. Loki’s face as he fell into the chasm above the bifrost. His mother’s prone body, cradled in his father’s arms. Odin himself, even, disappearing into golden flakes over the horizon of somewhere he’d told him was home. His mouth tasted bitter at that particular memory. 

He knew he was supposed to be sad. And he was. He’d lost Odin, his father, the constant force in his life that had guided him through so much. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling of anger that clenched at his soul, sometimes. 

Times like now, when it was the early hours of the morning. Hulk wasn’t awake - no one was awake - no one to keep his mind from wandering to just how unfair things were. Frigga had never had the opportunity to say goodbye, not really. Odin had. He’d had months where he could’ve said something, anything, anything outside of an ‘I love you’ that came years too late. 

It hurt. Faded, somewhat, when Loki had been coaxed into that reluctant hug back aboard the Statesman. But it still stung. 

Memories were something Thor had decided long ago wouldn’t be kind to him. That’s why he lived in the now, in the present, and that was the blinding light where he began to force his mind to crawl towards. He didn’t have time to dwell on the past, not now. Right now, his concern lay with the ship, and it’s frankly precarious position. 

“Hulk? Hulk, come on. Wake up” 

Thor pulled back a layer of blanket, peeking through the woolen shields to find a green face, scrunching up against what little light of day they had.

“Hngh. Too early.” Hulk rolled over, twisting away from Thor with an irritated grunt. 

“Go back to sleep.”

“Oh, come off it. You’re the Grand Champion.” 

Thor neatly stepped around the large mound of blankets, crouching down until blue eyes met green. 

“I sincerely doubt an early morning is above your strengths. Now, up. I need you to help me move the ship.”

To his credit, Hulk did eventually clamber out of his fortress of blankets. He looked a little put out at being woken up from his sleep (even more put out when he saw the state of the sky outside, still black and speckled with stars, like salt sprinkled on a tile of slate), scowling and muttering various threats and grievances to himself until he was stood at Thor’s side, trying to see what was so interesting about the window outside that the demi-god was currently staring at.

It wasn’t much, out there. If he was being totally honest with himself, Thor was beginning to find it a little difficult staying positive throughout all this. The storm still raged, the cold still bit, and his eye hadn’t quite managed to rid itself from the phantom sting of Hela’s sword. But, that wasn’t exactly new. Not to him, at least.

He hadn’t quite had the heart to tell Bruce or the medics about it, because what would be the point? His eye was gone. That was that. No amount of healing magic could knit the flesh back together, could banish the blind spot from the right side of his vision. It was over and done with. If it stung, it stung - and that was all there was to it.

Still, it was a little concerning that the ache hadn’t dissipated yet. That in itself was part of the reason why he was so anxious to get back to the ship. That, and freezing to death after his homeworld had just been set on fire was a little too ironic of a way to go out for his taste. 

“Okay, Hulk up. Now what?” Hulk stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, nudging Thor out of his momentary stupor with one large shoulder in a gesture that felt just north of being clouted by a bag of bricks. 

“Well, we can’t really stay here. Look at it out there - it isn’t safe.” Thor’s hands moved to cling to his arms, sighing softly as he watched the storm. 

His element. The thing he was supposed to control, to harness, to cast upon enemies and to bend to his will. He watched it rage outside of the window, and tentatively pressed a hand against the glass, feeling for the familiar bite of his fingertips that meant that it was listening. 

It wasn’t. 

“Look - regardless of who has the most strength between us, we can both agree that we’re the strongest avengers, correct?”

Hulk tilted his head, blinking as he thought over the question thoroughly. 

“Both strong…” He nodded, pausing briefly as his face broke into a toothy smile. “But Hulk stronger.”

“Oh yes, incredibly strong. Look at you, up by dawn and everything.” Thor rolled his eyes, but his traitorous face couldn’t really help but twitch up in a grin at Hulk’s enthusiasm. 

“Regardless of who’s actually the strongest, we’re both pretty strong. Strong enough to lift this thing, given the right positioning.”

“Why lift it? Ship fine.”

And to prove it, Hulk took what was clearly the most reasonable course of action and pounded his fist against the metal, the loud bang that followed forcing his shoulders up in a tight flinch. 

"Hey- hey! Careful!" 

Thor's hand shot out, tugging Hulk back away from the sides of the ship with an exasperated sigh. 

"Look, you may be able to survive a fall from this height, but I can't. So we need to lift the ship." 

"Pff. Like to see Blondie try."

"Oh, don't you worry, my big green friend." Thor chuckled, albeit a little emptily as he eyed the brewing storm in front of them. 

"I have a plan." 

***

With each gust of wind sending a thousand icey needles into his skin, and the daunting chasm that he’d very nearly taken a freestyle dive into just last night laying before his feet, it was understandable that Thor wasn’t quite as confident about this plan as he had been.

Explaining it to Hulk, he’d sounded perfectly reasonable. 

It’ll be fine, Hulk. I’ll just hop on up to the cliffside and wait until a lightning bolt hits the ship, and then I’ll grab it defying all laws of physics, and things will be absolutely a-ok. 

He’d even given him a thumbs up, he’d been so confident. But now, as he stared at the dark storm clouds brewing in the distance, he couldn’t help but feel he’d been a tad overzealous with his description. Especially considering his powers hadn’t been all that obedient lately. 

Without mjolnir, the storm just didn’t seem to listen to him. Or at least, not in the way it had. 

Before, it had been controlled - a perfectly tameable beast, that would be summoned by a wave of his hammer and that would be that. But now, it seemed to have shifted into something else. Something that, although he’d never admit it, Thor was a little afraid of. It reminded him too much of his nights as a child, laying wide awake and listening to the storms echoing above his chambers, wondering which bolt would be the one to ignite the golden tower and set his home ablaze. 

When he’d summoned the storm to fight Hela, there had been a sickening feeling in his stomach afterwards that maybe it wouldn’t let him go. Maybe the lightning would keep firing, arcs of burning light continuing to light his veins until they drained dry entirely. 

Maybe this gift would be the death of him. 

If it was ever a gift in the first place, and not just another destiny that had been piled on top of him, another weight stacked onto his back that he was expected to hold, another burden he was supposed to carry with his head held high and a golden smile plastered across his face. 

“Ok, Hulk ready.”

Hulk’s voice crackled from the radio strapped to his arm, the loud volume a sharp but not entirely unwelcome break from his thoughts. 

“Alright. Let’s go over the plan one more time, because I do not want to risk electrocuting you.” 

He could almost hear Hulk’s frustrated scowl from the other side of the phone, but he seemed to be keeping his promise not to smash the one radio set they’d been able to find, and soon Hulk’s voice came again after a loud burst of static. 

“Hulk punch ship, get it to move. Lightning hit ship, Thor grab. Thor pull. Hulk jump up after Blondie let go,” 

Hulk’s voice wavered for a moment, and a particularly nasty part of Thor’s imagination decided to supply him with the vision of Hulk, alone on a rocky outcrop, staring up at the shelter he’d been dragged out of, putting his faith in a plan he didn’t know would succeed. 

“Right?”

“Right.”

Thor confirmed, feeling a familiar bite at his fingertips that meant something was coming.

The storm above him curled, like some kind of giant serpent, lightning flashing like the forked tongue of Jormungandr, and he knew it was time. 

“You’re going to be fine, Hulk. This will work. I have complete faith in you.” 

He rolled back his shoulders, taking a few steps back from the clifftop, and considered letting out a careful and controlled breath before realising that wasn’t what they needed. 

Like it or not, the storm didn’t respond to calm. His power wasn’t tied to his happiness, it didn’t conjure itself when he was feeling calm, or content, or held - the rare times those feelings happened. 

The storm wanted anger. It wanted frustration. It wanted to leech the power and pain of his fathers death, his mothers, the burning wreckage of Asgard that still burned behind his empty eye socket. 

It didn’t want Thor. It wanted a God - vengeful, and wrathful. 

Thor opened his fist, and the skies split apart. 

•••

Things happened in quick succession after that. The ship moved with the sound of Hulk’s roar as green collided with metal, and for a few moments it lay suspended in air, like a puppet just after it’s strings have been slashed. 

The first few bolts of lightning missed their mark entirely, carving patterns into the stone walls, sending rocks scattering into the ravine below. But the next one struck true, and so, Thor did the only thing any perfectly reasonable Asgardian would do. 

He grabbed it.

For a few sickening moments, it wavered. The lightning flickered and struggled in his hand, trying to rip out of his grasp and return to the storm it was summoned from. 

“Don’t you dare.” Thor hissed through gritted teeth, as the weight of the ship pulled on his makeshift rope, dragging him a few uncertain steps forward towards the ravine. 

But, thanks to some miracle, it held. He took a few shaking steps backward, and the groan of metal responded - the ship was moving.

It was moving. It was working. Thor felt the beginnings of a smile begin to cross his face as he continued his journey backwards.

Sure, his hands were hurting, and every inch of his body was screaming at him to let go, you idiot, this is a whole spaceship you’re trying to pull with a rope made of lightning, but he was fine. He was going to make it. 

They were going to make it. 

Hulk’s triumphant roar reached his ears, and the ground shook slightly as the giant landed next to him. 

He watched avidly, green eyes stretched wide, but Hulk knew better than to help. Thor had warned him, in no uncertain terms, that this was dangerous. That Thor didn’t want to hurt Hulk, truly, that was the last thing he wanted in all of the nine realms - but he might. 

Hulk couldn’t help him. As much as it looked like he needed it, this was for Thor, and Thor alone. 

The wingspan of the ship appeared above the edge of the cliff, and Hulk’s roar only grew that much louder. 

“Ship! Puny God lift the ship!” 

He saw Hulk’s face break into a grin, lighting up the rest of his face as if he was able to conjure lightning himself. 

The burning feeling was getting worse, a steady pressure building behind his eyes, but Thor knew by now to ignore it. They were this close, he couldn’t falter now. Not even if yellow spots were beginning to dance across his vision, or if he felt a slow trickle of something hideously warm begin to drip down from his nose. Not even if Hulk’s grin fell, and he looked at him differently, with concern. With worry. 

He couldn’t stop. No matter if that was what Hulk was yelling at him to do. 

His foot hit something. A rock, a vine, he wasn’t exactly sure what it was. But it was enough. 

Enough of a distraction that the lightning took the one chance for freedom it had, and shot out of his hands, chasing a burning course through the rest of his body. People had described his veins being alight with the storm before, but he hadn’t realised quite how painful that sounded until he was bearing the full force of it himself. 

A sharp gasp escaped him as the lightning fell, and the ship teetered dangerously on the edge of the clifface. 

But, someone was there to help. 

A few ground-shaking footsteps passed where he was knelt on the floor, a flash of green darting towards the ship. Emerald hands grabbed hold, forest-green legs remained sturdy and strong, leaf coloured eyes narrowing in concentration as Hulk held up the ship. 

The bundle of metal and wingspan was thrown crudely to one side once it reached safety, and soon Thor felt the hot puffs of breath against his neck that meant Hulk was standing over him, a little too closely for his liking. 

“Easy, easy.” 

Large hands lay across his back, holding him upright, thick muscles barely making a twitch whenever a stray spark would pass their way. 

“Blondie ok. Storm over now,” Hulk furrowed his brows for a further piece of advice, his voice turning gentle and soft. 

“Breathe.” 

“I am breathing.” 

“Breathe better.” 

Thor really wanted to scowl. Truly, he did. There was nothing more he wanted than to get to his feet, throw Hulk’s hands off of him, and insist firmly but kindly that everything was absolutely fine, thank you. This sort of thing happens all the time, actually, and I’m great at summoning storms, this is just an off day for me. Won’t happen again.

But he didn’t know that. And Hulk’s hands felt nice, they always did. They’d felt nice, cradling him the night before, under soft words of stories and the stars of the night sky. And they felt nice now, a little cold perhaps, and he could feel the grooves in the skin from where the weight of the ship had landed, but they were firm. Stable. A grounding force, an insulating cable, a tether that told him how to breathe and be. 

Quite unexpectedly, it didn’t matter if it was humiliating anymore. If it was kingly, or stoic, or right. Thor had just lost control of a storm, his body hurt, and he was tired. 

Slowly, he allowed himself to tip over in the direction of Hulk’s hands, resting his cheek against the comforting solidness of Hulk’s leg. 

He allowed himself a glance upward, trying to reassure Hulk’s worried gaze with a battered smile, and a gentle pat to the arm that was currently still curled around his side. 

“You’re getting really good at this whole ‘saving us’ thing, y’know that?” 

“Well...Hulk make pinkie promise.” He bent down a little further, relinquishing his hold just for a moment to nudge the underside of Thor’s chin with his pinkie. 

“Can’t break those.”

“No.” Thor chuckled, trying to ignore the aching protest of his ribs as he did so. 

“Can’t break those.” 

[amphtaminedreams]

My Amateur European Travel Guide

Hi to anyone who’s reading!

I spent just over a month in Europe over the summer and have far too many good food pics that deserve more than sitting in my camera roll untouched and thus I thought I’d do my very shitty, amateurish version of a travel guide, basically a run down of my favourite things that we did in each city. From touristy shit like the Colosseum and the Roman Forum to some equally beautiful but lesser known places, getting an inter-rail pass gives you the time to see everything whilst not spending an absolute fortune. 

I went with a friend and we did the basic, first-time traveller route: Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Ljubljana, Venice, Rome and Milan. The pass, which allowed us to use domestic and international trains on 10 separate days within a month, for students only cost £230. We did then have to pay extra for the Eurostar from St.Pancras to Paris, and additional “reservation” fees to get seats on the trains in Italy and between France and The Netherlands, but all in all this didn’t cost us anymore than about £50. The flight back from Milan to Southend Airport cost £30, though be warned that it’s actually pretty hard to get from Southend to central London; if we hadn’t been able to get a lift, we probably would’ve spent an extra £30 getting home from there. 

We were away for 3 weeks and 4 days in total, and on top of the approx. £700/£800 we spent on hostels and air b&bs, I spent about £1500 whilst I was away. You could probably get away with taking about £1000 with you if you’re willing to cook while you’re away. We did a couple of nights whilst we were in air b&bs, but on the whole, we usually ate out. The hostel kitchens were a bit of a nightmare, though I’m not going to pretend it was anything other than a combination of laziness and gluttony that stopped me from cooking, lol. HOW CAN YOU GO TO ITALY AND NOT GO OUT FOR PASTA EVERY NIGHT?! It can’t be done. With my non-existent self-control anyway. 

Once I got back from inter-railing, I also then spent a week with my family staying in the cutest seaside town about half an hour outside of Barcelona, Sitges, which we’ve visited a few times before. For that reason, I thought I’d write about some of my favourite things to do in and around Barcelona, not just from this trip but from all the times we’ve visited over the last few years.

I’ll start, though, with the first place we visited on our inter-railing trip: Paris.

Paris, France

It might be because it was the first place we went and the place where I had the most energy and drive to explore, lol, but Paris was my absolute favourite of the cities we visited. I know a lot of people seem to be disappointed with it but there’s just so much to do and so much culture; gorgeous architecture, art, fashion, food, I feel that it lives up to its reputation in every way if you really utilise your time there properly. The public transport is easy to understand and use and my only gripe with the hostel is that it was a little far out. This didn’t really limit us in any way though, so it didn’t bother me. 

The Hostel

Our first hostel, Jo&Joe’s in Gentilly, was a really cool place. I believe it was around £30 a night (one of the more expensive hostels we stayed in) to stay in a room like the one I've included a photo of. The beds were comfy and you had a decent amount of space, and the wi-fi was good. My only issue is that there wasn’t much privacy in terms of the bathroom; there was one toilet room and one shower room in the actual bedroom to be shared between the 6 of us. There didn’t really seem to be much about in Gentilly but to be honest, we didn’t venture very far and there’s more than enough to do in central Paris.

Paris Top Things to do:

1. Palais de Tokyo

Probably my favourite art museum we visited our entire trip, Palais de Tokyo was...an experience. 

Costing £8 for a student ticket, almost every piece of artwork in there was strange as hell. That being said, it was all very immersive and interactive and like nothing I’d seen before which is why I liked it so much. 

Well, apart from the dirty sock. Literally. There was a dirty sock on display. Art, right? 

2. Musee D’Orsay

I’d say if you only had time to do one of the “big” art museums in Paris, do Musee D’Orsay, not the Louvre.

 It’s a lot more compact and has a wider range of styles, plus a lot more modern art, including some Van Gogh and several Degas. I had so many favourite pieces from Louise Abbema’s Allegories of Spring and Winter, to Thomas Couture’s Romans in their Decadence:

Plus I’d take Amaury Duval’s portrait of Marie-Anne Detourbay over the Mona Lisa any day. The staring into your soul game she’s got going on is unparalleled.

3. Eiffel Tower 

I think the level of dumbassery involved in my decision to wear heeled boots to make the 500 or so step journey up the Eiffel Tower cancels out any smarts that went into us saving €3 by booking in advance and walking instead of getting the lift, but it’s all about the experience, lol, and I would do it again for the view. It only cost €5 in total and by booking online about a month before, we didn’t have to wait in what is usually about a 3 hour queue if you turn up on the day.

4. Yves Saint Laurent Museum

It only took us about an hour to do the Yves Saint Laurent museum but it was definitely worth the £10 for entry if you are interested in fashion. It was pretty quiet when we went which I liked as it made for a much more peaceful experience than say, the Louvre, and the museum is very well laid out. There’s a load of original pieces in there and I feel like I learned a lot about Saint Laurent himself too. I also learned that I am very unsophisticated (I really didn’t feel posh enough to be walking into the building, lol) but we been knew.

5. Sacre Couer 

Warning: The Sacre Couer is a very steep walk from the nearest tube station. I internally died. Several times. But it’s very beautiful once you get up there.

6. Monmarte

I wish we’d had more time to explore Monmarte as it was one of the prettiest places I saw on our trip, with so many cute restaurants and cafes. Top things to see in the area are the Wall of Love and though we didn’t actually go there, Montmarte Cemetery too. I found out when we got back that the latter is supposedly inhabited by a load of stray cats and now I am severely disappointed that we didn’t have a look. I guess I’ll just have to go back! You know, just to check if it’s true about the cats. And also eat some more of the food, ofc.

7. Vintage Shopping

We had a quick look in two of the vintage shops whilst we were in Paris, Kilo Shop and Tilt Vintage, and I saw a lot of really cool things. Unfortunately, because I couldn’t really fit anything else in my backpack and was being pretty tight with money at that point in the trip (an attitude my bank balance probably wishes had been sustained throughout, lol), I didn’t get anything. Still, I’d definitely recommend checking the shops I mentioned and the other vintage shops in that area out if you are interested in buying some clothes whilst you’re away. The only thing I’d say is to avoid them if you have trouble with crowds and/or small spaces as there were a shit tonne of people in pretty much all the ones we went in and because of the layout, not much room to move. And protip: if you like breathing non-body odour tinted oxygen, don’t venture in any of them in the middle of heatwave. Not fun. 

8. Champs Elysees 

I think it’s kind of a given that you see the Champs Elysees whilst you’re in Paris, but last time I was there, I only really saw it from an open top bus and was quiet underwhelmed. On this trip, we walked from the Louvre through the Tuileries and then slowly made our way down towards the Arc de Triomphe, having a look down the streets that run perpendicular to the Champs Elysees on our way, which were all very typically Parisienne. At the bottom, you have Aventue Montaigne which has all the fancy, designer flagship stores, and then down Avenue FDR (where we went for lunch) there are plenty of places to stop and have a bite to eat. I thought I’d been all French getting a baguette from down here before realising it was from a glorified Paul which we have all over London, BUT, if you’re into açai bowls, my friend had a really good one at a place called Cojean.

9. Versailles

Before we went to Versailles, a lot of people told me that it was really crowded and not worth going to but I couldn’t disagree more. It was so beautiful both on the inside and out and there’s so much to learn! I’ve always been fascinated by Marie Antoinette so I might be slightly biased but I was totally in my ex-historical nerd element. I would definitely recommend arriving as early as possible if you’re not paying for skip the line tickets, since we got there for around 10 and had to stand in a very long queue to get in. It did move quickly but looked very daunting at first and I imagine it only gets worse as the day goes on.

10. Disneyland Paris

I mean, we didn’t got there this time and technically, it’s not Paris. But come on, it’s Disney. I couldn’t leave it off the list.

Future Paris Bucket List:

Moulin Rouge

Musee d’Orangerie

Jardin du Luxembourg

Louvre Highlights Tour

Louis Vuitton Foundation

Paris Museum of Modern Art

Get dinner in Trocadero

Centre Pompidou

Paris Catacombs

Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Amsterdam is one of my favourite places ever. It’s picturesque, easy to find your way around, and full of amazing food. It was my second time here and my friend’s third so we had a pretty chilled out time but still did a lot. I definitely wouldn’t say no to going back again.

The Hostel

The hostel we stayed in in Amsterdam was called ClinkNoord and was a short (and free!) boat ride away from the city centre. Also at around £30 a night, the rooms were basic yet comfortable and the place as a whole had a modern, utilitarian vibe to it which I really liked. The bathrooms were a short walk down the hall, a more private alternative to the bathrooms in our Paris hostel, and were pretty much always free. As for the showers, they were a wet room kinda situation and a little bit grim at times but as long as you bring flip flops (I didn’t, another example of dumbassery, lol) you’ll be fine. Maybe this is the 10 year old in me leaping out but I really loved the bar area at this hostel too: drinks were cheap, but more importantly, it had table football, pool, AND a ping-pong room. WITH A BLACK LIGHT MIGHT I ADD!

Amsterdam Top Things to do:

1. Electric Ladyland

The edibles had already began to kick in a little bit by the time we got to Electric Ladyland so this might be a bit of an overstatement but this place was, in a good way of course, very trippy. It’s basically a mini fluorescent art museum and exhibition in this guy’s basement (not as weird as it sounds, lol), and for £5 you can go in and see it and then, if you hang around, watch him give a demonstration on how it all works and where he sourced his paint from. It says on the website that it’s by appointment only but we just turned up on the day just as a slot was about to start and were allowed in. In terms of taking an edible before you go in, maybe don’t, lol. It was a bit of a surreal experience; in a very dark room, listening to an old American hippy talk about how he explored caves in Utah to find mineral rocks, the weed-induced paranoia low-key kicked in. I did, at points, momentarily forget that there was a room around the point I was immediately focussed on and started panicking that we were just drifting through space. And then there was the occasional fear that I was trapped in some kind of eternal time loop where the man would just keep on talking in circles and I would be stuck down there forever, not wanting to be rude and leave whilst he was mid-sentence, as part of the universe’s karmic punishment for my impractical level of politeness and need to people-please. Climbing the ladder up out of the basement was...a little tricky, to say the least.

2. Pancake House

You have to have pancakes in Amsterdam and my friend recommended this place as the original one. I had a pancake with ice cream, caramel sauce and chocolate sauce and whilst a little sickly, it was tasty af. If I went again, I think I’d just stick to one sauce; it was so sweet that I had to admit defeat about halfway, something I do not look back on with pride. Next time, I will be victorious over one of these beasts of a pancake. Speaking it into existence.

3. Hire a bike and visit Vondelpark

There are plenty of ways to get about in Amsterdam and the trams are super easy to use but hiring a bike for the time you’re there is probably the cheapest and most Amsterdammy (I know, not really a word) way to get around. We hired our bikes from Starbikes by the central station and it was a very simple and affordable process which I would definitely recommend; their shop has some of the best reviews on Trip Advisor for bike hire. Riding along the canals is quite chilled but if you’re not super confident, the best place to go is probably Vondelpark, as it has wider lanes with the added bonus of not living in semi-permanent fear of being yeeted off your bike into the canal by a car coming up behind you. It also has friendly ducks! How can you say no to that? I mean, ignoring the fact that male ducks have like, 9 inch corkscrew penises which apparently spin when they mate. Thank Reddit for that life-altering and mildly disturbing piece of information.

4. Mannekin chips

The BEST Belgian fries which I spent the entirety of the rest of our trip craving. Best sauce combination is ketchup and samurai sauce, and I recommend going for a regular portion. The large is insane and I am very much in awe of anybody who can finish it.

5. Van Gogh Museum

We didn’t actually visit the Van Gogh museum on this trip but I went on my first visit to Amsterdam and you really can’t miss it. Not only does it have a lot of Van Gogh’s most famous works, including sunflowers, it has a lot of the work of the artists who inspired him as well as pieces from some of his contemporaries. 

7. Stedelijk

Really cool modern art museum with an interactive room where you can take part in activities relating to the current exhibition too. Though I guess it really depends on your art preferences, if you do only have time to do either this or The Rijksmuseum, I would definitely say Stedelijk. 

8. The Rookies Coffeeshop

So I can’t say I’ve tried a lot of the coffee shops in Amsterdam as on our first visit we only really went to this one and The Bulldog chain, and this time we didn’t go as much, but they do the best space cakes. They’re genuinely really tasty but they can be quite intense if you haven’t smoked in a while or don’t do so regularly so make sure you’re in somewhere you feel safe and have other people with you.

9. Amsterdam Dungeons

Though the Amsterdam Dungeons were more similar to the London Dungeons than I thought they would be, with less of a focus on the dark history of the area and more on general dark European history such as the Spanish Inquisition and witch trials which also came up a lot in the London run through, I would still thoroughly recommend them. The Dungeons are definitely a tourist trap but they’re also just hilarious and you genuinely do learn a little, so I think worth the money!

10. The Blonds Cafe

I wasn’t crazy about the menu here as I’m a ridiculously fussy eater but I think most people will easily find something they like, and the actual cafe and presentation is really cute. The grilled cheese sandwich I ended up having was really good and even if you end up just having a cake, I’d recommend it. They had lemon AND mint infused water dispensers, which, now I’m writing down doesn’t seem very exciting at all, but I got hyped up, okay? And worst case scenario, it’s not for you, there are loads of other cool and very hipster-y looking (lol) independent cafes in the area. 

11. Anne Frank House

Again, this was something I did on my first trip to Amsterdam, but you can’t miss it. From a history standpoint and as someone who read Anne Frank’s diary several times when I was younger, I found it very surreal to actually visit the house I’d heard so much about. You definitely get a sense of just how stifling and claustrophobic living in that annex was and even if you’re not into your history, I do think a lot of insight can be gained from taking a trip here! 

12. Go to one of the Pastry Shops

If you go to Amsterdam, you’ll see them everywhere, the little slightly shabby-looking cafes with all the amazing waffles and donuts and crepes and cupcakes in the window. Go to one! I had a waffle covered in white chocolate and Oreos and it was 1000% as good as it looked. 

13. Moco Museum

The last thing on my Amsterdam list and another thing we did on my first trip, the Moco Museum is one of my favourites I’ve ever been to. It’s pretty small and doesn’t take you that long to look around but it’s full of contemporary, provocative art based around the theme of political and social commentary. Given that description, it’s probably no surprise that it houses a lot of Banksy, but there’s also a fair bit of pop art too, and a very cool gift shop. Because I can never resist a good gift shop.

Future Amsterdam Bucket List:

A day trip to the tulip fields

De Poezenboot

Eye Film Museum 

Swing at A’dam lookout

Canal Cruise

Berlin, Germany

Berlin definitely wasn’t what I was expecting it to be. As a capital city, I expected it to be this very built up, bustling, commercial place, but it was actually pretty quiet and very spread out. In a way, it almost seemed a bit left behind and completely deserted in parts. That being said, from a historical point of view, it was probably the most interesting place that we went. It’s easy to forget that just a few decades ago the city was completely divided and you can definitely sense that it’s still rebuilding itself.

The Hostel

We stayed in a hostel that was tucked away in the basement of the Aletto hotel, just a minute’s walk away from the Zoologischer Garden station. I believe it was around £20 a night for an 8 person mixed dorm. The beds weren’t the comfiest and the room itself was a bit dark and dank, given that it was below street level, but all in all, the hostel was decent as a stop-off point. I liked that there was a kind of a small communal area in the kitchen and the bathrooms were spacious and clean, and fortunately, it was pretty quiet when we were there so we usually had them to ourselves. 

Berlin Top Things to do:

1. Never Ending Love Story

A really lovely little cafe in a pretty, quiet area, the service here was exceptionally good! I’m not one to complain when workers don’t seem overly enthusiastic, I work in retail so I get that you sometimes can’t be arsed with all the over-the-top politeness, but I do appreciate friendliness and the waitress here was so sweet. I had delicious scrambled eggs on sourdough toast and my friend had pancakes and we both really enjoyed our food. 

2. East Side Gallery

I wish I had more to say about the East Side Gallery, but to be honest I was pretty drunk and had half an edible-I thought we were going out out after, don’t judge me-so I can’t remember much. Judging from my very shitty and my friend’s very good (this is one of hers, lol) photos though, it was really interesting. Good street art is up there with the best of them imo and given the context of the gallery, it’s no surprise that a lot of the art is politically charged, which just adds an extra layer of appeal to it. There’s also a lot of good photo ops, or so drunk me clearly thought. 

3. Topography of Terror

Built on top of the former SS Reich Main Security Office, the Topography of Terror is a museum I’d say you need to set aside at least 2 and a half/3 hours for to properly do. There’s so much information to get through and I’d say I ended up skimming half of it towards the end because we were short on time; I later found out that there’s even more to see outside which we didn’t even touch. 

4. Jewish Museum

Unfortunately, a lot of the Jewish Museum was closed when we went but it’s still a very physically impressive building with exhibitions that are equal parts daunting and thought-provoking, relating to both the Jewish experience during the Second World War and Jewish culture in general.

5. Museum Island

We didn’t actually go in any of the museums on Museum Island but we walked around and sat at a nice little green spot nearby; t’s very pretty to explore, especially as the sun is going down. There were plenty of bars around and people drinking, sunbathing and listening to music by the river. Generally a really relaxed vibe.

6. Fritzies 

I know dirty fries aren’t the classiest thing ever but the ones from this place tasted really fucking good. How can you go wrong with a fast food restaurant dedicated to chips?

7. The History: Brandenberg Gate, Reichstag, Checkpoint Charlie, Hitler’s Bunker, Jewish Memorial

Most of these places are within walking distance of each other and we did them all within a couple of hours. Like I said, the best thing about Berlin is the history so I think making an effort to see all these things is really important. On our last night we managed to find out, via a nearby poster, about a free show on the river (with English subtitles obviously; as the basic monolingual bitch I am, anything other than dankeschön and hallo went right over my head) which covered major points in the history of the Reichstag over the last century; it was the perfect way to round off our trip.

8. KW Institute for Contemporary Art

This museum was half the overly pretentious contemporary art that makes classicists roll their eyes:

-though I do actually like it, sue me-

And half the simple, but millennially-inspired kinda stuff that I love. Like, that top collection got me feeling like the new Van Gogh every time I accidentally screenshot my home screen. 

So obviously, I rated it. And side-note, the building in general, which had an old, unused warehouse kinda thing going on, along with a shady little courtyard outside, was very cool.

9. Pizza Nostra

Look at this photo. Do I need to say any more?

Future Berlin Bucket List:

Historical River Cruise

Return to the Jewish Museum

The Story of Berlin Museum

Berghain (even just to see it from the outside)

About Blank, Suicide Circus, i.e one of the tamer, more mainstream clubs

Anne Frank Zentrum

Hackescher Hof

Oranienburger Strasse and Kunsthaus Tacheles

Prague, Czech Republic

I absolutely adored Prague. From the second I stepped out of the metro station into Old Town Square on our first evening, I felt like I was walking into a fairytale. All the buildings were so ornate and beautiful, everywhere you look is like a postcard. There’s so much history there which we only really had time to scrape the surface of and I can’t wait to go back.

The Hostel

We stayed at Hostel Dakura which was only around £15 a night and a few metro stops from the city centre. As you can see, it’s a little outdated but all in all, still clean and comfortable. The dorm and bathrooms were very spacious and there was an outdoor seating area with benches and ping-pong too. I’d definitely say it was good value for money.

Prague Top Things to do:

1. Explore Old Town

The Old Town part of Prague is definitely the main attraction, from the cute and very typically European seating areas outside the restaurants, to the Trdelnik shops, to the gothic statues, and the colourful buildings that surround them; you'll feel like you’re walking through a mix between a shopping mall and a medieval time capsule. There’s not really all that much point me putting Old Town on the must-do list as it’s pretty much unavoidable but I liked it so much I just couldn’t leave it out. I really haven’t been anywhere like it before. It’s part Westeros, part Fantasyland at Disney (with some stag dos thrown in), and that’s saying something; Disney World comparisons do not come easy from me.

2. Letna Hill

A bit of a steep walk uphill but totally worth it for the view of the city.  Lots of cool bars and places to get cheap beer and cider too, if that’s your kinda thing. Spirits, to my dismay, are pretty much the same price as they are back home. Not that it was on Letna Hill but I paid €20 for 2 doubles one night. €20. PRAGUE IS CHEAP FOR ALCOHOL, THEY SAID. YOU CAN GET PISSED FOR A TENNER, THEY SAID. IT’LL BE FUN, THEY SAID. Sigh.

PROTIP: Make sure you have cash on you, especially if you’re heading up Letna Hill, as they don’t take card at any of the bars and there aren’t any cash machines. There also aren’t any water fountains and the tap water isn’t drinkable, apparently. You know what there are, though? Rats. 

I’m going to stop before I put anyone off. Our experience wasn’t the best but done right, I think you could have a really chilled evening here. Go to Letna Hill. It’s lovely.

3. Prague Castle

Also a bit of an uphill walk, Prague Castle is a gothic dream with live music, tantalising food stalls (hehe, tantalising, somebody hire me to write their cookbook ASAP) and insane views. Half the time I felt like I was in King’s Landing and the other half Hogwarts, and that is the kind of 50/50 split I live for. 

4. Walk across Charles Bridge and walk alongside the Vltava River

I thought our day peaked when I came to the realisation, whilst crossing the Charles Bridge, that we were in fact surrounded by vaguely religious and mildly creepy Jesus-looking statues but then we reached the other side and soon after, became one with nature. We saw ducks! Otters. Swans. Inject that wholesome shit into my veins. 

Also, a pigeon landed on me! That’s right, if you stand there with your arm out for long enough whilst walking alongside the Vltava River, you too can experience the fleeting terror that comes with the possibility of being pooed on but then the earth-shattering realisation that comes after: that pigeons, maybe, aren’t so bad after all. That they’re actually kinda cute in their own weird, scavenging way! That maybe the pigeon lady in Mary Poppins made some points! I mean, can’t we all relate to wanting to steal other people’s food? I definitely can. Consider me a changed woman.

5. GOAP Museum

Though I’m not much of a Salvador Dali fan and I have a sneaking suspicion that some of the “artwork” in this museum was actually just prints from google blown up on A2 photo paper, I thoroughly enjoyed the Alphonse Mucha and Andy Warhol sections of the GOAP. 

-Untitled Salvador Dali-

The former is one of my absolute favourite artists so I definitely had to take a moment when I walked in and saw that not only did they have several of his original lithographs, but also a whole wall dedicated to him. I wish I had good photos but the lighting was a bit too artificial to really do it justice. The lithographs came out pretty well though:

Obviously Andy Warhol is an icon too; his exhibition in particular was hugely informative and well laid out, definitely a people pleaser. I couldn’t find all too much online but it seems like the exhibitions mentioned are permanent, so definitely go and check them out. 

I also feel the need to mention that it was here I ascended to an elite level of art hoe by buying a Mucha lighter. Jokes on me because it doesn’t work very well, like...at all in anything windier than a very, very mild breeze, BUT it looks pretty, so points for that. 

6. Cafe Chloe

Seeing the size of the queue outside Elan Cafe in London, it kinda blew my mind that considering its flower wall, you could just walk into Cafe Chloe and get a table straight away. Obviously the flower wall is a draw for Instagram purposes (yes, I’m a shallow human being, *insert Ariana Grande “and what about it?” gif here*) but the food was really good too. The perfect place to stop off for brunch. 

7. Pedalos

Again, the pedalos under Charles Bridge are kind of a tourist trap but it was only around €12 between us to rent one for the hour; most of them appeared to be 4 seaters so you could get 2 more people in there and split the price again, making it even cheaper. Plus, it was really fun and we got to go right up to the ducks! 

8. Karlovy Lazne

I’m not gonna lie, tackiness aside, I love a club with multiple rooms and this one had FIVE. There were a lot of English people in there and it did cost about 12 euros in cash to get in (take the cash out in advance as the machine outside charged quite a steep fee), but they played ABBA on more than one occasion so I have zero regrets. I mean, apart from drinking maybe a bit too much once again, but that’s kind of a given at this point. I can only apologise to my liver and what’s left of my dignity.

9. Joy Burger

NGL, the service here wasn’t the best and I kind of felt like I was annoying some of the staff literally just by trying to order my food BUT to be fair, I’d probably be annoyed by me too considering my upholding of the British tradition of asking everywhere if they speak English and hoping for the best rather than actually learning the native language. Anyway, back to the point: look at this burger. Fit. 10/10 would demolish again.

Future Prague Bucket List:

Museum Kampa

Petrin Hill

One of the free city walking tours

Pub crawl

Vienna, Austria

Honestly, of all the places we went to, Vienna was the one I was most pleasantly surprised by. Before going, I’d heard that there wasn’t much to do there and I thought that 24 hours would be more than enough to see the main attractions, but aside from Paris, it’s probably the city I want to revisit most. On every other block there seemed to be some kind of beautiful flower garden or sprawling palace or stately home or elegant cafe, but at the same time, it still had a very modern feel to it. A lot like Paris but more compact, and with a slightly Germanic twist. Plus, I had one of the best Maccies of my life here, so I really can’t complain.

The Hostel

For around £18 for the night we stayed in a 6 person dorm at the Wombats Hostel by Naschmarkt. Because we weren’t there too long, I didn’t get all that much of a feel for it but the communal areas and bar seemed very cool and the central part of the city was in walking distance. The dorms were a little small and outdated and we did get woken up by a fire alarm in the middle of the night but it gave me a kind of primary school trip type nostalgia so I didn’t mind too much. I’d probably look for another hostel if I went back to Vienna just because I think if you were staying for a while, you'd start to feel a bit cooped up in the room. For the one night, however, it was ideal.

Vienna Top Things to do:

1. Museum Quartier

We really only walked through Museum Quartier but there seemed to be loads going on and definitely lots to look at. There’s also a giant astroturf covered waterbed which sounds kinda wack but was actually super fun when I wasn’t fearing my head was going to be squashed like a watermelon by the kids quite literally throwing themselves around on it. So yeah! Check it out!

2. The Traffic Lights

It sounds silly but the traffic lights in the central part of Vienna are super cute. Have a stroll around and see how many of them you can spot. Berlin’s Ampelmann wishes. 

3. Belvedere Palace Grounds

Boujie. 

4. Schonbrunn Palace Grounds

Even boujier.

5. Volksgarten

I really felt like I was walking through the Red Queen’s gardens. Minus the crochet and threat of decapitation of course.

6. Max and Benito

SO GOOD. And a really funky seating area outside too. Probably best for a quick lunch and I also imagine would make great drunk food if you need an excuse to day drink. 

Future Vienna Bucket List:

Natural History Museum of Vienna

Wien Museum

Leopold Museum

Belvedere Museum of Contemporary Art

Cafe hopping

Further explore MuseumQuartier 

Naschmarkt

Budapest, Hungary

It might be an unpopular opinion but I didn’t adore Budapest as a city. To be honest, my expectations were probably slightly too high as I’d heard so many people rave about it. I can see why people like it so much: there’s loads of great places to eat, drinks are cheap, and ruin bars are very cool. My issue was just that I thought there’d be more to do in terms of daytime activities. The one art museum we went to was completely deserted and there didn’t seem to be as many historical places to explore as in some of the other cities we visited. Of course it’s all a matter of personal preference and I might have just not done enough research/planned enough, plus that’s still not to say I didn’t have a good time. We had some lovely chilled out days and the city kind of comes alive in a different way in the evening; the boat party we went to was by far the best night out we had throughout our trip and I had some insanely delicious food. We also hired an Air B&B here for about half the price of some of the hostels we stayed in, and so got to actually settle down and spread our stuff out for a few days; something that was much needed after living out of lockers for 2 weeks.

Budapest Top Things to do:

1. Mr.Funk’s

Look at this bad boy and tell me you don’t want to go to Mr.Funk’s and try one of their freakshakes. Tell me that freakshakes being banned in the UK wasn’t a devastating miscarriage of justice and an attack on my human rights. Tell me that I’m not a failure for leaving a donut behind. Pls. Validate me. 

2. Street Food Karavan

Street Food Karavan is such a cool little spot with so many delicious looking food stalls, I honestly could’ve eaten there for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. Plus loads of vegan and veggie options too.

3. Boat Party

I believe we booked our night through budapestboatparty.com and honestly it was so fun and such good value for money. It may have partly been down to the alcohol and the edible I had before, lol, but everything felt so surreal; I spent 90% of the event just being amazed by how beautiful our surroundings were and the combination of the breeze and the scenery and the music made for the absolute best atmosphere. Everyone we spoke to was so friendly and if I went back I’d love to do it again, maybe slightly more sober (unlikely) so I can take even more of it in. That being said, bear in mind that these kind of things can probably be a bit hit or miss. The friend that recommended the boat party told me that she spent the first half of the event avoiding being hit on by men twice her age, so clearly it depends a lot on the company, lol!

4. Kiosk

We didn’t actually have proper meals at Kiosk but we did find some deck chairs to sit on whilst we ate ice cream from one of the stalls they were running outside. The restaurant itself was inside but the outdoor seating had a stunning view of the sunset and the river and the area in general was really buzzing. 

5. Shoes on the Danube

It’s a simple monument but the story behind the Shoes on the Danube makes it one of the most important things to see in Budapest.

6. Szechenyi Baths

Before we actually went into the baths, I was a bit grossed out. Like, it sounded great in theory but then we got there and I realised we were about to step into what is essentially a steaming pit of bodily fluids. BUT, put that minute, mildly repugnant detail aside and you’ll have a brilliant time. Start with the whirlpool in the outdoor area and by the time you’ve done that, you’ll be feeling wild enough to bath and sauna hop to your heart’s desire. Unless you are a real, compulsive germaphobe, pissing yourself at the sight of little kids and adults alike getting uncontrollably whisked around like a bunch of sweaty egg yolks is enough to make you put any (don’t get me wrong, warranted) hygiene concerns to one side. You can shower when you’re dead. That’s what they say, right?

7. Margaret Island 

I think we had one of our most relaxed afternoons at Magaret Island, lying out on the grass by the dancing fountains; it’s definitely a great place to sunbathe, read, or grab a cheap alcoholic drink. There’s options for if you’re feeling more adventurous too: on our second visit there, we paid €10 between us to hire a pedal car for the hour and decided to cycle round the island. It was by the grace of god (or for the most part my friend’s very necessary backseat driving) that there was only one casualty of my steering. Angry Hungarian man, if you’re out there, I’m very sorry our pedal car almost knocked you off your bike. My bad. But yeah, my catastrophic attempt at doing the bare minimum physical activity aside, go and chill on Margaret Island. It’s super pretty.

8. Buda Castle and Fisherman’s Bastion

Just a heads up that we paid around €4 or €5 each to go up to the top of Castle Hill with one of the companies giving out flyers at the bottom, so have a look and see if you can find a better deal before paying to ride the funicular. Once we did get up there we could hop on and off, and the ticket included a ride down as well. In terms of what to expect when you get up there, spectacular views. Though I found the castle itself a bit disappointing, Fisherman’s Bastion was really beautiful and had some great photo spots. If I went back to Budapest, I’d probably spend more time in the area as I think that’s where a lot of the history actually is.

9. Szimpla Kert

Probably the most famous ruin bar in Budapest, I really loved Szimpla Kert. It was a bit chaotic and very crowded but the eccentric interiors and open air courtyard gave it an almost magical feel that only a tiny number of bars I’ve been to have anything on. Vaulty Towers and Bar Elba in Waterloo I’m looking at you. Missing you and your overpriced drinks always xoxo

10. House of Terror

The House of Terror was my only real history fix whilst we were in Budapest and I found it really interesting. In particular, I liked how all the visitors took sheets of information in each room to read in our own time rather than us all trying to crowd round one sign. The basement part of the museum is presumably the main draw, and I understand why given how unnerving it is, but I enjoyed the whole museum. Obviously there are things you have to take with a pinch of salt and (our Air B&B host warned in our welcome package that it was slightly biased; I couldn’t find much about public opinion of the museum online so if by the slim chance somebody who knows more is reading this please let me know! Educate me!), but at the same time, if just for walking through the site of the past atrocities, there is definitely something to be gleaned by visiting.

11. Parliament Building

There was really no need for the Hungarian Parliamentary building to step on Westminter’s neck like that but...I guess she did what she had to do.

12. Ludwig Museum

Like I mentioned, this museum was pretty deserted but they did have some cool contemporary art and in particular an exhibition dedicated to the fashion designer Kiraly Tamas which I really enjoyed. His are the pieces in the photo above!

13. Donut Library

Oreo donuts. Need I say more?

14. La Fabbrica 

A very boujie but surprisingly affordable Italian restaurant right opposite St.Stephen’s basilica (pictured), I had one of the many top tier spag bols on this trip here. The toilets are also stylish af and made me feel very much like a peasant so maybe wear something nice so you can get those good good HQ bathroom mirror pics. I was certainly not in any shape to do so. Those toilets were really wasted on my scruffy ass that day. 

Future Budapest Bucket List:

The Hungarian National Gallery

Műcsarnok

Museum of Fine Arts

Budapest History Museum

Hungarian State Opera House

Flippermúzeum

Instant

Great Synagogue 

Memento Park

Secret Walking Tour

Ljubljana, Slovenia

Though we mainly went to Ljubljana so that we could visit Lake Bled, it was still a very cute little area. Pretty small for a capital city but there were loads of day trips out from the centre and for the evenings, a whole range of lively bars and restaurants along the river. 

The Hostel

We stayed at Hostel Kva right in the city centre and paid around €20 a night. The hostel itself was lovely and kind of felt like more of a young people’s B&B than hostel; the communal area in particular had a very cosy, personal feel to it and the staff were incredibly friendly and helpful. That being said, the actual rooms were very small and I did feel pretty cramped whilst we were there, more so than in any of the other hostels we stayed at. 

Ljubljana Top Things to do:

1. Meselkova Mesa

About a 15 minute walk from the city centre, Meselkova Mesa is a very interesting place. I'm not going to lie, I did feel a little on edge whilst we were there, lol; it was pretty deserted apart from a couple of men having a very loud argument. Nevertheless, there’s some very cool buildings and street art so if you’re in a group, check it out.

2. Lake Bled

Our day trip to Lake Bled, a half hour coach journey from Ljubljana Station for IIRC €8 return, was one of my favourite things we did whilst inter-railing. Not only is it absolutely magnificent to look at but there’s so much to do that I feel like you could have your whole holiday there if you wanted to. Assault courses, hikes, swimming, water sports, rowing, tobogganing, chilling on the (yes, artificial) sand, whether you want to relax or thrill-seek, you’re going to have plenty to do.

3. Puffy

These mini pancakes were so good that I didn’t even notice the chocolate sauce was Nutella and that’s saying something because WHY DO THEY PUT IT ON EVERYTHING IN MAINLAND EUROPE!? PEOPLE WHO DON’T LIKE NUTELLA HAVE RIGHTS TOO!

4. Pop’s Place

The best burger of the entire trip, hands down, and the whole menu looked delicious. Would I fly to Ljubljana just to have another one? Probs. 

5. Tivoli Park

A great place to sit down and read a book or go on a bike ride, or alternatively, if you’re me, awkwardly hide from a bunch of people from your hostel you irrationally believed were judging you earlier that day in the bathrooms.

6. Castle Walk

The uphill walk did kill me a little but I am mildly asthmatic so let’s put it down to that. Nothing to do with the fact I haven’t been to the gym in a year. Nothing at all. Anyways, the view was very pretty and though we didn’t go inside the castle, there’s apparently an escape room in there as well as a museum, a restaurant and a jazz club so definitely worth the minor hike.

7. Flower Market

If you go to the square where the food market is, by Dragon Bridge, you’ll find endless stalls of some of the most beautifully arranged flowers I’ve ever seen. It might be a seasonal thing, I’m not sure, but if you’re there in the summer, I’d recommend seeking the market out. They’re a very reasonable price and yes, I did specifically buy a sunflower for a photo op for 50 cent, guilty as charged. When vanity is that cheap I really can’t resist, lol.

8. Illusions Museum

I would definitely recommend going with at least one other person to get the most out of the Illusions Museum and €10 is pretty pricey but if you want to get a cheesy oh-look-I’m-standing-on-the-ceiling photo, here is your best bet.

9. Grefino Frozen Yogurt

I’m not gonna lie, I don’t actually like frozen yogurt myself but I can appreciate good food when I see it and my friend’s portion looked FIT. Plus, I always get excited when anything’s make your own; there will always be a part of me that feels incomplete without regular trips to Pizza Hut to overdo it with the ice cream factory (which this is basically a frozen yogurt, grown up version of). Miss you always. 

Future Ljubljana Bucket List:

Escape Castle

Ljubljana Castle guided tour

Tobogganing at Lake Bled

Row to the Pilgrimage Church of the Assumption of Maria at Lake Bled

Škocjan Caves

MSUM

Venice, Italy

Everywhere you look in Venice is picture perfect. It literally looked exactly how it did in all the photos I’d seen beforehand. There’s so much to do and so many amazing looking places to eat, I could easily spend a relaxed week here. Emphasis on the relaxed because getting around does involve a lot of walking and a surprising amount of stairs, and we had to pack as much as we could into the short amount of time that we had. By the end of our first day in Venice alone, the word exhausted had a whole new meaning. In terms of public transport, there’s only really the boat system, and that’s a steep €18 for a day ticket. Probably partly due to my moaning, we did end up getting one of these on our last day, but that meant that we also got to go to the islands of Murano and Burano which are included. I definitely wouldn’t say no to going back but it’s quite an overwhelming space: a bit disorientating, crowded, and very expensive! You’d have to give me a few years, lol!

The Hostel

Whilst in Venice we stayed at the Wombats Hostel in Mestre, for around £13 a night. We were lucky in that it had only opened the week before (they were actually celebrating its opening at the Wombats in Naschmarkt when we were there!), and so it was super cheap. I imagine by now the price would’ve increased as it was a lovely hostel. Being new there were obviously some teething problems: queues on the front desk were pretty long, the free drinks vouchers given out had mistakes in that you couldn’t redeem them for one of the drinks that was listed, the kitchens were apparently very overcrowded with 2 faulty hobs between about 50 people, and our room as well as the bathroom in the lobby frequently ran out of toilet paper. Other than that, the dorms were the most spacious, modern and breathable of all the hostels we stayed in and the bar and communal areas were great. The only thing to bear in mind is that you do have to get a train into the main island of Venice, but it’s only about €3 for a return and it’s a short journey. 

Venice Top Things to do:

1. Peggy Guggenheim

A really beautiful museum and garden right on the waterfront, there were all kinds of modern and contemporary art and even a piece (pictured above) by Jenny Holzer who is one of my favourite contemporary artists! I definitely fangirled a little! Some other standouts were by Jackson Pollock, Pablo Picasso, Andy Warhol, Max Ernst, Joan Mitchell and Willem de Kooning which I’m going to offload here to free up some space on my camera roll, lol:

Composition by Joan Mitchell (1962)

Silver Bedhead by Alexander Calder (1945-1946)

Untitled by Willem de Kooning (1958)

Circumcision by Max Ernst (1946)

2. Liberia Acqua Alta

An eclectic little bookshop tucked away down some Venetian side street with tower upon tower of some of the most random combinations of books I’ve ever seen, my favourite thing about Liberia Acqua Alta was the cat chilling behind the counter. It’s shameful the vigour with which the crazy cat lady in me jumped out but I actually did start tearing up at the sight of it. I hadn’t seen a cat in 3 WEEKS! I missed my babies okay:(

3. Takeaway Pizza 

There’s loads of fresh takeaway pizza places around Venice but this particular slice was from a place called Farini. I think there might be more than one of them, and to be honest, when there’s pizza that delicious looking in the window, it would be a crime not to at least seek one out.

4. St.Mark’s Square and Basilica and Bridge of Sighs

It might be a huge tourist trap but you really can’t miss St.Mark’s Square. The Basilica is one of the most magnificent buildings I’ve ever seen and even as someone who is not at all religious, you can appreciate the thought and craftsmanship that went into it. The astrological clock right next to the basilica is also absolutely stunning, just as much so as the one in Prague, imo:

Getting dive-bombed by a flock of pigeons in the square was fun too. My life flashed before my eyes just for a moment. It was a humbling experience.

5. Leonardo Da Vinci Exhibit at Palazzo Zaguri

Basically, this exhibit was a collection of Da Vinci’s drawings of the anatomy of the human body side by side with the corresponding plasticised body parts. Really interesting and not at all as gory as it sounds, which was really the only disappointing part for me, lol.

6. Fondaco de Tedeschi 

If you want a good view of the city without paying a fortune, Fondaco de Tedeschi is your place. It’s a fancy mall with a rooftop area that you can, by booking a time slot online, go up for free. 

7. "Get Lost”

I’m not really someone that enjoys walking around aimlessly but if you’re gonna do that anywhere, Venice is your place. Every street and bridge and balcony is postcard worthy and there are pizza and ice cream and just generally good food places everywhere. You’re bound to stumble across at least one authentic, non wholesale mask shop whilst you’re wandering, and although there’s something vaguely creepy about a load of these blank faces staring out the shop windows at you, some of the displays are totally bewitching:

The middle display is from the shop window of the place that made the mask for Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut which I thought was very cool!

8. Get a boat pass and visit Murano and Burano

As I said, on our last day we bought a boat pass (€18) and visited the nearby islands of Murano and Burano, Murano being the island famed for its glass, and Burano for its rainbow houses. Burano was definitely my favourite of the two; it was a buzzing place full of charming little stalls and shops and boats, and of course, colour. Plus, we even got some close cat encounters in there! Murano was pretty but a lot quieter and seemingly more spread out. The glass shops get a bit old after a while as most of them all have the same things in and so I think finding out where you can see a glass blowing demonstration or visiting the glass museum is a good idea if you are thinking of visiting.

9. Osteria Trattoria Al Nono Risorto

This was a super affordable little restaurant with a really lovely outdoor seating area, recommended by my friend’s mum. The service wasn’t amazing (they forgot about my friend’s pizza, lol) but I had what was probably my number one spaghetti bolognese of the whole trip here, and the garden was very pretty. Finding spots to eat a proper meal in Venice that aren’t going to charge you, like, €12 for the privilege of sitting down in a nice place is hard so I would definitely recommend checking this one out.

Future Venice Bucket List:

La Biennale di Venezia

Lido di Venezia

St.Mark’s Campanile

Chiesa de San Giacomo

Gondola ride

Doge’s Palace

Punta della Dogana

Bugno Art Gallery

Palazzo Fortuny

Rome, Italy

Our final overnight destination, Rome was a lot more cosmopolitan than I expected it to be. I was so focussed on the historical side of things that I kinda forgot it’s a capital city and thus, is going to obviously be pretty commercial. Still, it’s strange to just be going down a very pedestrian street on a tram, turn to one side, and see the bloody Colosseum there. I’m not going to lie, by the time we got to Rome I wasn’t feeling my best and was physically pretty exhausted so I don’t feel like I got to appreciate it as much as I should have done; I ended up going back to our Air B&B a couple of the days, largely due to the heat. It was almost 40 fucking degrees! I was honest to god DRIPPING in sweat on the tram back at one point! But I definitely want to go back again, maybe some time when we aren’t feeling the effects of the planet withering and dying as much, and explore even more. Rome is undoubtedly a very cool place.

Rome Top Things to do:

1. Colosseum and Roman Forum

Before we went to the Colosseum and the Roman Forum, I kind of expected it to be something you looked at, went “wow, that’s cool”, and then moved on, lol, and I was low-key a bit pissed off that we were paying €20 to do so. When we did arrive, though, I was blown away by the scale of both the landmarks and how much there was to see and do there. The Roman Forum in particular went on for ages and there were signs regularly dotted about to tell you what it was you were looking at, what it used to be, and who built it, amongst other things; though I’d love to go back with a tour guide, it’s really not necessary. I can’t tell you how starstruck I was to see the foundations of a temple that Julius Caesar ordered to be built; the Romans have always been fascinating to me and I genuinely feel like I learnt SO MUCH on our visit. We booked a last minute whistle stop tour that got us in and out of both venues with allotted time slots, meaning that we couldn’t stay too long in the Forum, so I’d say if you can afford it, just go full out and buy skip the line tickets in advance. You could definitely make a day of it.

2. Fattori Ice Cream

From a really cute little independent shop near the Air B&B we were staying in, this ice cream was SO GOOD that my fussy-ass-self didn’t even mind that I’d accidentally picked a flavour with lemon in. It’s a bit out of the way but I’d say worth the journey, and there’s supposed to be a lot of good street art nearby so there’s non-food related excuses to make the detour too.

3. Vatican Museums and Basilica

Honestly, the Vatican is worth going to for the ceilings alone. Raphael’s frescos are some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, and if anything was going to turn me (to Christianity I mean, lol), it’d be them. I love contemporary art and on the whole find classic art to be a bit repetitive and same-y in its themes but some of the work that can be found in the Vatican is just an example of the level of passion and dedication and patience that can be found in so many pieces of the period and is something that I think modern art can occasionally lack.

4. Aventine Hill

You’d think that a spot with such a good view of the city would be absolutely mobbed but Aventine Hill is just as serene as this photo makes it look. Do-ably uphill, amazing place to watch the sunset, and heads up: I can’t think of anywhere more romantic to propose.

5. MamaEats

One of many lively restaurants in the Travestere area, I had (surprise, surprise) another glorious spaghetti bolognese here. IIRC, they also specialise in gluten free food which is very forward-thinking!

6. Travestere and Riverbank

As I mentioned, Travestere is known for its host of buzzing bars and restaurants, but one thing we didn’t know about until we got to Rome was all the stalls and activities down on the riverbank. Though it didn’t seem to be a year-round thing, there was a whole strip of amazing food places and clothes and jewellery stalls and even some kind of VR experience down there which I would definitely recommend checking out if you are in Rome for the summer months.

8. St.Paul’s Outside the Wall

A really beautiful Church both inside and outside that's lacking absolutely nothing of St.Peter’s Basilica except the queues, my protip for visiting St.Paul’s Outside the Wall is to WEAR SOMETHING COVERING YOUR KNEES AND SHOULDERS. I mean, I’d say the same thing for all of the Italian Churches, but specifically this one because they WILL force these blue sheets of tarpaulin masquerading as “ponchos” upon you and you WILL feel like a complete and utter twat. You have been warned. 

9. Street Art 

We didn’t quite walk far enough to get to the cluster of street art by St.Paul’s Outside the Wall, but what we did see we found easily through the StreetArtRoma app, which marks out the various murals and professional graffiti points around the city. I think a really interesting day would be to hire a bike or a scooter and use the app to explore those various clusters that are dotted all around the city. 

10. Largo di Torre Argentina

The site where Julius Caesar (yep, him again) was assassinated, but also the site which is now populated by a group of very cute, and also very friendly cats. We didn’t get to go in the daytime when the actual cat sanctuary was open but when I went down the steps to get a closer look at the site one of the evenings, several of them came to say hello! No offence to any Christians out there, but if there was one point on this trip when I felt I was truly in the presence of something greater, it was here. And they were furry and adorable. With whiskers:3

11. Parthenon, Trevi Fountain, Piazza Navona

Basically, you gotta do all the big tourist spots. Yes, the Trevi fountain felt a lot like an overcrowded kids’ swimming pool, and yes, I did fear I was about to get yeeted into the fountain like a coin at some points too, but it is undeniably a very captivating sight. Along with the Parthenon, it’s a prime example of Rome not really being what I expected, because there’s no big clearing for either of them; they’re literally just slap bang in the middle of the street like they’re NBD, which is kinda wild considering they're hugely important pieces of history and architecture. Piazza Navona is very pretty too and a great place to sit down and get something to eat, even if it was just boxed pasta from one of the supermarkets round the corner in our case. 

Future Rome Bucket List:

Galleria Borghese

MAXXI Museum

MACRO Museum

Cinecitta Film Studios

Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Moderna

Capitoline Museum

Milan, Italy

We only visited Milan for the day as that was where we got out flights home from but I still really enjoyed it. I went once in 2018 and I think the appeal back then was lost at me, but this time I get it: shopping, lol. There’s also a lot of art and fashion museums which are a huge part of the draw, and of course, the Galleria Vittorio Emanuelle; I think if you’re a person with *ahem* a fucking shitload of money, that’ll be enough to occupy you for at least a day or two.

Milan Top Things to do:

1. Galleria Vittorio Emanuele 

The oldest shopping mall in Italy and undoubtedly the most beautiful, the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele might be the boujiest place I’ve ever stepped foot in. Sure, the shops are too intimidatingly expensive to consider even attempting to enter but they’re fun to marvel at and the general area has every typical high street store you can think of. Even the Zara in Milan looks like a fashion Haus inside! The same shop that in my local town centre resembles a jumble sale a good 50% of the time! So yeah, despite not having any money to spend and the fact that I was *supposed* to be on a shopping ban until October, I still like wandering around the area.

2. Novecento Museum

With several floors of modern art, interactive exhibitions (which you had to sign a RELEASE FORM to participate in), and an amazing view of Il Duomo upstairs, I really enjoyed the Novecento Museum. I thought it was going to a be a disappointing alternative to the Armani Museum, which was closed at the time, but it ended up being one of my favourite museums we visited on our whole trip.

3. Sforza Castle 

My friend that we met up with whilst in Milan (she has a flat in the city! I’m very impressed!) took us here and we sat down in the grounds for a bit, which was a nice way to chill out for an hour or so. There was a fountain out the front that people were paddling in to cool off too and there seemed to be several exhibits going on inside the castle as well if you did want to get a bit of background.

4. Starbucks Reserve Roastery on Via Cordusio 

The fanciest Starbucks I’ve ever seen in my life. Again, intimidatingly so. But if you like your coffee you will probs be in heaven.

5. Gallerie d’Italia

So me and my sister went here the last time we came to Milan and IIRC, really liked it. The modern art section was a bit sparse but the rest of the museum continued into some kind of grand old building and the usual stately home staples that I love were of course there in abundance: intricate ceilings, palatial stairways, opulent chandeliers, beautiful flower gardens, the place is basically a labyrinth of decadence and we lapped it up, lol. People being rich enough to own buildings like this? No. Them being open to the general public so we can go wild in them? Yes. 

Future Milan Bucket List:

Armani Museum

Navigli

Go in the Duomo

Barcelona, Catalonia

I’ve been to Barcelona about 4 or 5 times now and aside from Paris and London, there is no other European city that compares. It’s so huge, full of character and unique beauty, and endless things to do, that I could return probably about 10 times more and still leave with an incomplete bucket list. With stunning architecture, a laid-back coastline and bustling commercial areas, it’s a city with such a consistent vibe and sense of history. The only thing they could do to make it better? Take down the Christopher Columbus monument. Because having a giant statue of a man who facilitated the genocide of a whole country full of native people is a bit...yikes. Sorry, had to drop that in there. But on the whole I adore the place.

Barcelona Top Things to do:

1. CosmoCaixa

We didn’t actually go to CosmoCaixa on this trip to Barcelona, but we went a few years ago and it’s without a doubt, the coolest science museum I’ve ever been too. There’s information in Spanish, Catalan and English so most people can probably follow the exhibitions and even if not, there’s a whole interactive area with a load of contraptions that you don’t really need to understand to be entertained by. You could definitely make a whole day of it too; we went for about 3 hours and still only scratched the surface.

2. Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya (MNAC)

2 things!

Firstly, this is a portrait of Colette, the French novelist, which me and my sister got really excited about because we kinda stan after watching that Kiera Knightley film!

Secondly, and probs more importantly, the modern art section of Museum Nacional d’Art de Catalunya is one of the most ingeniously laid out I’ve even seen. With the sections separated into different eras of Catalonian art, it kinda reads like a whistle stop tour of the cultural history of Barcelona, and so not only did I see so many gorgeous paintings, I got educated af!  Also, the building which the museum is housed in, the Palau Nacional, is stunning. Plus, there are escalators most of the way up. Iconic.

3. Portaventura

It was my sister and I’s fourth time visiting Portaventura this year and it was as amazing an experience as ever! The park is split into different themed areas, kinda like Disney, and has everything from thrill rides to Sesame Street Land (which is low-key super fun). It has what is probably one of my favourite rides ever, Shambhala, and also randomly the best theme park food I’ve ever tasted. One thing I would say is that the accompanying park, Ferrari Land, isn’t worth the extra money as the queues are super long, and there’s only really one ride worth going on, which is basically just a replica of Stealth at Thorpe Park. Same goes for the neighbouring water park; unless you’re going to pay for express passes there, give it a miss. The lockers are €10, the queues are ridiculous, the wave pool didn’t work (not that the staff bothered to tell everyone who was just stood there waiting for an hour) and the “lazy” river is pure anarchy. Literally, kids half-drowning themselves for the lols, popping up under your rubber ring when you least expect it, and then being screamed at by their parents. I live for a bit of chaotic energy but that lazy river...

4. Visit Sitges

A small city on the coast about half an hour from Barcelona, I really cannot recommend Sitges enough. There’s a ton of cute little art museums, delicious restaurants, heavenly beaches (the waves are INSANELY GOOD! You WILL get knocked under water half a dozen times but you also get to watch it repeatedly happen to other people too and it’s great), and a fucking ridiculously hard assault course out in the sea that me and my sister tanked at, hard. There’s incredible food places everywhere but favourites are Pom D’Amour and Dino for ice cream and sweet treats, and Beach House, Big Al’s American Kitchen, and Soca for mains . There’s also a really prominent LGBT community, plus lots of bars, pubs and clubs. Honestly, if you’re going to Barcelona, I really recommend staying around here as you get away from the the majority of the tourists but can still easily get in to the city by train.

5. Walking with Gaudi at the Gaudi Exhibition Centre

A very cool, very interactive exhibition that dives into the life of Gaudi, his creative process, his projects and his influences. My sister particularly liked the replica of El Drac. Like, she for whatever reason thought it was cute. Named it. Made us walk up to Parc Guell to try and see it. Wouldn’t leave the area til she got a keychain of it. Sigh.

6. Passeig de Gracia

Down Passeig de Gracia, you can both wistfully gaze through the windows of the designer shops you pass by, and actually spend your money (too much in my case) in the high street ones. Best of both worlds, bby.

7. Casa Battlo 

So it’s on Passeig de Gracia, pretty much opposite the metro station, but I had to give it its own little bit because it’s my favourite Gaudi building. Kinda looks like something aliens would build, kinda looks like something that sprang out of the ground, but that’s pretty much what Gaudi did best. 

8. Park Guell 

Just a warning, Park Guell is VERY uphill, and we somehow ended up getting off at the metro station right at the bottom of that hill, only to find out once we got up there that you had to book a slot and that all the slots for the rest of that day were sold out. My sister didn’t get to see her dragon and I was pissed off that I’d just nearly busted a lung open and regretted throwing my inhaler away for 20 minutes straight whilst getting up there, but it was still a pretty good view and we did get to see a bit of the park. Moral of the story though is to obviously book Park Guell before you go. 

9. Sagrada Familia

We’ve never actually been in to the Sagrada Familia, again, because we’ve never thought to book it (I want to absolve myself of responsibility here since every time I’ve gone to Barcelona before this trip, I’ve been a baby and let my parents organise everything), but it is an absolutely magnificent building even from the outside. I would one day love to go in and go up the spiral staircase though, because it looks fucking terrifying and I’m one of those strange people who likes being scared every once in a while.

10. Buenas Migas

I’m pretty sure it’s a chain thing but it’s the first time I’ve ever seen a focacceria, and maybe I’m just uncultured but...I got pretty excited. That being said, my sister and I both ended up getting pizza; it was as tasty as it looks.

13. Las Ramblas and Plaza Catalunya

The most typically mediterranean looking square you’ll ever see, Plaza Catalunya is the perfect place to stop off and get some tapas whilst you’re exploring Las Ramblas.

14. Mount Tibidabo

“I was backpacking across Western Europe, I was just outside of Barcelona, hiking in the foothills of Mount Tibidabo”...yes, I got excited to go here because of the Friends reference (I’m a basic bitch who likes friends AND has other personality traits, smd), but equally so by all the adorable old-timey fair ground rides once we did get up there. It was a few years ago now, so I’m not sure exactly how it worked but I do vaguely remember it being a bit of a rip off in that you had to pay to ride them all individually, so it’s good to know that the view from the Church and the Church itself is more than enough of a reason to go up. There’s also places to eat on the walk down and plenty of ice cream and food stalls up there.

Future Barcelona Bucket List:

Museu d'Art Contemporani de Barcelona (MACBA)

European Museum of Modern Art (MEAM)

El Jardin del Gats

Port Cable Car

Carrer de la Neu de Sant Cugat

So, that was my summer! 100% the most eventful one I’ve ever had! I’d love to go back to every one of these places, at least for a day, and am so grateful I got to have this experience. I definitely missed home a lot and maintaining your wellbeing whilst out of your comfort zone is hard, I’m not going to lie, but I hope that a year from now I’ll be feeling even more adventurous. 

There are so many places in Europe I desperately want to go to, some even more so now that I’ve visited the country. Now that I’ve been to Germany, for example, I’d be really interested in seeing somewhere like Munich or Cologne, as they’re supposed to have a completely different vibe from Berlin. It also really inspired me to get back into Spanish and possibly even learn French. 

I don’t know if anyone who is going inter-railing will read this but if they do, feel free to message me if you have any questions. My friend did pretty much all of the organising so I’m not the most knowledgeable person ever but I will do my very best to answer! Similarly, if anybody has any recommendations of other places to go whilst in any of these cities, food places and art museums especially (lol), let me know. 

Thanks for reading!

Lauren x

[thebrownblog]

Different Seasons: Two Years in Quebec

Well, once again it’s been a while (I won’t even pretend at the end of this entry that the next one will be soon, it’ll be some time in 2021 if I follow the average posting frequency). What’s up folks? What could I possibly be here to talk about today? Probably the one thing that distuingishes and defines my life, the fact I moved thousands of miles from home to a place that seems to be frozen half the year, and doesn’t have English as a first language…and then decided not to move on again, stubbornly at times.

Before starting this, I just read back through my previous post from October 2017. “A hundred thousand changes, everything’s the same” sums it up nicely. It was clearly written by a younger, more enthusiastic version of myself who was still on a high from just arriving, and hadn’t yet experienced 2 brutal winters. I’d say I’ve probably matured and grown more in 2 years here than in the previous 5, however difficult Paris was. The foundations were laid by the Parisian struggle, but it’s definitely Quebec that’s put a few hairs on my chest. 

This is a very seasonal existence, and there’s no way around it. The euphoric highs of summer and the beauty of autumn juxtaposed with the looooong slog that is winter. The euphoria of being out on the road all the time seeing beautiful place after beautiful place vs being stuck at home because of the gloomy and sometimes dangerous conditions (I will NEVER forget for as long as I live, how close I came to death in a sudden snowstorm in Maine last October, when visibility suddenly dropped to about 20cm in front of the car on a winding mountain road with moose out and about at night). I’d go so far as to actually call it a bi-polar existence over the course of a year, a life of extremes for sure. Am I capable of growing old in conditions like these? Probably not, but I’m not ready to give it up yet, and if I ever do I’m not sure it would be to go back to England anyway. Who knows?

However, I loved it here at the beginning, and I still do today. Why? Same reasons, by and large. Open space, open road (weather permitting). My own slightly bizarre version of the American Dream probably (Well, it IS just 25 minutes away). Ever since I was a kid, I was going to end up on this continent somehow. I always wanted to go to the USA. Why? Most likely being a big reader and film fan. Everything I loved reading and watching was always set in America. America to me was not and still is not defined by who is president at the time, and what crazy sh*t is happening politically. It’s more of a concept. To me it represents vast open space where you can go anywhere, and become anything you want as long as you have the will and the fortitude to make it happen (if the American Dream is dead I certainly never got the memo, and don’t really want want to either). In the end I ended up close enough, AND with a humane healthcare system.

What else do I love about here? The fact I feel like I actually have a chance in life. You can still work hard here in a ‘regular’ job here for a few years, save up and buy a house. This is completely dead where I come from, the idea of home ownership for me one day in London is a sick joke, and Paris was no better. I recently just moved into my own place for the first time, and actually have a spare bedroom…and it all costs less than a box room with barely enough space to swing a cat in in London. These things would have mattered less to me at 21, but now rapidly approaching 30 (yikes!) they matter more and more. Quality of life now matters a lot more to me than a place being hip and vibrant, and I have it much better here.

Some people understand completely, and others think I’m crazy, but that’s okay, crazy’s always worked for me.

I think to really understand me on this, you have to understand that I’m not attached to where I come from whatsoever. I miss my family a lot, and it’s painful at times, especially knowing my little sisters are growing up seeing me twice a year, but the place itself I could happily never see again. When you understand this, you can better comprehend how I’ve lasted this long already without the end being in sight yet.

Another big question is how someone from London feels more at home out in the sticks, and I think there’s two valid answers to this question. One is that I was completely and utterly burnt out with big city life after my negative experiences in my last years in London, and then the backbreaking experience in Paris in which I couldn’t even see just how miserable I’d become until I left. I clearly just wanted peace, affordability, a slower pace of life, and no more f*cking public transport!

The second is connected to childhood and Sweden. I grew up in London but I would always go to visit my grandparents a few times a year in Sweden, where they lived in the countryside. It was always a magical place for me, and everything that’s come out of me here (love of peace and quiet, nature, and nature photography etc) all actually started over there when I was much younger, but came out with a vengeance in Quebec. Funny how nearly everything about us all is programmed by our childhoods one way or another, whether we see it or not. 

It is also my theory that people always crave the opposite of what they grow up with: those that grow up in the country want the bright lights of a big city, and those that grow up in cities often want a slower pace after a while.

Ironically, my life has also been busier living in a small place than it ever had been before. I came to learn quickly that doing nothing in these weather conditions is not an option unless you want to find yourself fat and depressed in a hurry. There ARE things to do here, you just have to find them yourself, the internet isn’t going to tell you much. Aside from private tutoring, I’ve kept busy in a wide range of eccentric ways. I’ve joined a rugby team, a football (’soccer’ to all you North American lunatics) team, played a lot of badminton, and got myself more seriously involved in photography. You’ll notice a lack of winter sports, which is a shame I know, but sadly I know myself and know I was born with two left feet. I don’t want to risk injuring myself in a way that would keep me from driving for any period of time as I’d lose all of my income. You drive or you die out here. A train?? What the hell is that???

So, what’s really changed for me since the post I made near the beginning of the experience? The biggest thing is probably integrating. I couldn’t understand a word anyone said to me here for the first 2 months. I spoke French well enough already after a year in France, but the dialect and accent here is so different it was often basically worthless. Nowadays I communicate just fine, and have integrated into the community. It’s been a new social experience for me being known pretty much everywhere I go. That’s what happens when you work at schools in a small place and you have something about you that is unique (a Brit who actually speaks the language and lives here…yeah, there aren’t many….). 

It’s very different from the anonymity of a big city, and like all things has its pros and cons (sometimes you just want to go into a shop and buy something without being recognised by a current or former student), but mainly pro. Community spirit is a good thing that’s been pretty much lost in larger places. There’s definitely a kindness and willingness to help here that is more prevalent than anywhere else I’ve lived previously. Some of the families I private tutor for seem to have adopted me as one of their own!

Another big change was getting a new 2-year VISA in April which allows me to have any job, my first one was very restrictive, and made it tough to earn decent money at times. After getting it, I finished the year by supply teaching for a few months which was great experience, and certainly an adventure in itself as I ended up subbing for just about every subject on the curriculum. Obviously with the exception of English classes, this meant I had to do it in French all the time. If subbing for Maths, Science, and French isn’t a testament to how far I’ve come with the language from not being able to understand anything at all during the first two months here, I don’t know what is! However I drew the line at doing dictation in French one time, and put Netflix on instead, there are limits!

VISAs, VISAs, VISAs….well I’ve got myself started now. There’s been a constant stress from the moment I decided to stay on in October 2017. With the VISA I currently have, and the year I’m entitled to with my Swedish passport, I could fairly easily stay here until April 2022. However, I’m really tired of temporary solutions, and all the admin and costs that go into obtaining each one. I want to become a permanent resident, which is a more daunting and complex beast. When I come back from my trip home in early September all my energy will be put into finding a full-time job. You can’t get permanent residency without one. Whatever subbing and tutoring pay me is irrelevant because neither count as full-time, and I can’t go and study anything without swapping my working VISA for a restrictive study one (the headache never ends you see).

In many ways this next phase of the journey is going to be the acid test in terms of where I will end up. I will walk away from the teaching world temporarily or permanently if I need to, in order to find a full-time gig and get my residency. However, the job will have to involve my being an anglophone who speaks French to a high level. This is my advantage in this town, and the card I will always look to play in the employment game. If it can’t help me here like I’ve always thought it could, I would have to look elsewhere in the province eventually, and if there was still nothing cooking, I would have to ask myself the question for the first time about whether I would prefer to live amongst other anglophones in Canada, all opportunities being equal. 

These are all ultimately questions for another day though. What’s certain is I have a good chunk of time left, and in that time I will continue to travel around Canada and the USA as much as I can within my means. I often feel like a born nomad, and I love nothing better than hitting the road and seeing new places. That’s my pleasure in life, and long may it continue. Everything else will work out how it’s supposed to, it always does.

Tomorrow’s flight back to England finally signals the end of the beginning in this long, meandering, and very seasonal story.

TL;DR:

Winter is too long and I need a full-time job to become a permanent resident, but I still like it here, and people are nice.

[shawnyboymendesxox-blog]

BEVIN.

I woke up early, showered and got myself dressed. I decided I was going to go natural. I just put a little bit of mascara on and tinted my eyebrows. I was excited and nervous. This was my first proper photo shoot. I usually take my own pictures with my phone, or Jonah will take them for me.  

I checked out Shane's photography and he was pretty good. I brought a few different jackets and accessories in case he wanted to change the photo up a bit. Better being prepared.

I walked towards The Tipsy Cow and I could see a familiar face. It was Shawn. He turned around and smiled.

'What are you doing here?'

'I could ask you the same thing.'

His stupid smirk really pissed me off. But I couldn't help but smile.

'For your information, I'm meeting someone.' I turned my back on him, looking for Shane.

'Is his name Shane? Meeting you at 12?'

I spun around and stared at him.

'How do you know?'

He walked towards me and held his hand out.

'Hi, I'm Shane Marshall.'

I stared at his hand then back up to his stupid smiley face.

'Are you fucking kidding me?'

He started laughing.

'What is wrong with you?' I started to walk away. This guy was unbelievable what did he think he was doing?

'Wait! Don't go. I genuinely want to get photos of you. Come on give me a chance.' He begged.

I stopped walking and listened.

'Please, I saw your pictures and I have a few ideas I want to do and I think you'd be perfect.'

I couldn't help but smile. My stomach had butterflies. I stopped smiling, turned around and walked towards him.

'This is strictly professional. No asking questions about my boyfriend or myself. And none of that stupid smirking.'

He smirked, I tried to hide my smile. I held my hand out. He took it. His hands were so big and soft. I let go a little too late.

'Strictly professional' He repeated.

We turned and walked towards the subway.  We walked in a comfortable silence.  It was as if we've known each other our whole lives. His arm kept brushing off mine as we walked and it felt kind of nice.

'So what are we going to be doing today?' I asked as we walked down the steps underground.

'We're going to Times Square. That's all you need to know.'

He sat across from me when we got onto the subway.

I could see he was taking in my whole body while he got the chance . I couldn't help but do the same. His large hands clasped together, I noticed he had a bird tattoo on his right hand.  I wonder what his arms are like under that jacket. Broad shoulders. When I made it up to his face he was staring at me.  But we never lost eye contact. I could hear my heart in my ears. I wonder what he was thinking. We continued to look at each other until it was time to get off.

My stomach was in knots with nerves now. As we walked off I could feel his hand touch my lower back. I jumped a little. I hope he didn't notice.  We walked up to Times Square. Once I got into the fresh air I felt much better.

'Okay, let's get started.' Shawn pulls out his camera and starts setting up. We were in the middle of Times Square. It was quite daunting.  All these people were walking by and staring.

'Your body language is screaming nerves. You look great, just relax.' I started to blush. I took a deep breath and listened to him.

'Ignore the people, pretend you're in a world of your own.'

After a while I started to loosen up. He seemed pretty happy with how everything was going.

'Would you like to get something to eat.' Shawn asked while packing everything up.

I didn't even realize how hungry I was until  he asked. 'Sure.' I replied.

*******

We decided to go to The Cheesecake Factory. We took our seats and decided on food and drinks. There was still no conversation being made. It was starting to annoy me now, seeing as before he was very forward and confident.

'So, have you gone all shy on me now?' I asked. Quite shocked that these words came out of my mouth. He looked up at me and smiled. I looked away and took a sip of my drink.

'Well.. You told me I wasn't allowed to ask about you're boyfriend or yourself, so would you like me to talk about the weather?' His face was always in this constant smile.

I realized he was right there. I stared back and smiled.

'Ah she smiles.' He laughed to himself, never losing my eyes.

Shit. I stopped smiling.

'What do you want to know then loser?' Why did I say that. I was trying to be cool. I watched him as he thought to himself.

'What made you come out here?' I was surprised this was his first question. I thought he was going to jump into questions about Jonah.

'Well, I was bored of Ireland. I felt like it didn't have as much opportunity there, then it does here.'

'What you mean?'

'Well its a beautiful city for one. You never know who you'll meet. There's just so much more here.  And I love that when I walk down the streets I don't know everyone I pass. Have you ever been to Ireland?'

'Nope, but I heard it's a beautiful island. And from what I see online, the scenery is amazing.' He looked up.

This all felt very intimate. The constant exchanged looks. The little returned smiles.  

'Does your boyfriend know your here?'

Suddenly guilt swept over my entire body. I completely forgot about Jonah the whole time I was here.  I looked out the window.

'Yes, I told him last night. He's very supportive of this.' I could tell Shawn was watching my every move. I needed to chill out a bit when talking about Jonah .

I looked up at him, 'He takes most of my pictures when we are out.' I gave a weak smile. I think he could tell that it wasn't real.

Shawn looked down at his food and started eating. He said no more after that. He wouldn't let me pay, or even split the bill. I felt awful. We were waiting to get the  subway back. It was so busy. Rush hour time.

We got on when it pulled up. It was packed. We both grabbed the same pole and tried to squeeze in. His baby finger lay on top of my hand. I stared at the ground my heart pounding.

The train started to move and everyone fell back a bit. His body was against mine.  I looked up slowly, he was staring at me. He bit his bottom lip a little. I was transfixed. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I wanted to kiss his soft lips. He started to lean in. My legs were shaking. I could feel his breathe on my lips. I closed my eyes, then he fell back as the train came to a stop.  My breathe was so heavy. I turned away fast and watched as people got off.  What was I thinking? I couldn't look at him the rest of the way home.

**********

Sweet Jesus this was by far my favorite chapter to write. I was screaming during the whole process hahaha. I hope you enjoyed this one. This is where it gets exciting. Let me know if you all like it! <33 

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Loose Ends

About a year after Sara and Len visit Len's Earth (see "Hearts of Steel"), the Waverider gets a call from STAR Labs. And it seems a few visitors might just clear up some loose ends for this pair.

Happy birthday to @larielromeniel​! (And thanks for beta’ing your own birthday present!)

I know I said that "Hearts of Steel" was the last story in the Len Snart stories, but I apparently lied. :) (You might want to read those stories first, to see what's going on. You can find the series here on AO3.)

You can read this story here on AO3 or here on FF.net.

“Len?”

He’d finally fallen asleep what, three hours ago? Len Snart mutters something into the pillow, refusing to open his eyes, yanking the blanket up over his head.

Sara…whose room this technically is, although he’d pretty much moved in months ago…chuckles softly and not without sympathy. She knows, after all, because she’s the one who’d sent him and Ray and Mick on the particularly exhausting mission they’d only returned from three-hours-and 17-minutes ago. Or so.

“Umph,” he tells her indistinctly, speaking into the pillows.

Sara sighs. “Len,” she says quietly. “I know. But I need just a minute, OK?” She sits down on the edge of the bed. “Then you can go back to sleep for a while. But you should know this.”

That doesn’t sound good. Len cracks an eye open, then rolls over, eyeing Sara, who’s fully dressed and looking far too awake and put-together. (Well, she’d slept.)

She gives him a half-smile, registering that he’s listening. “We just got a distress beacon from STAR Labs, back in 2018 on our Earth. Not much info…but the message said  you need to be there.” She pauses. “I don’t know why. They haven’t responded to any other queries, but then we’re not really set up for that.”

Len can’t say precisely that he’s fully awake now, but he’s a helluva lot more awake than he’d been a few minutes ago. He stares at Sara, who gives him a regretful smile as she reaches out to wrap her fingers around his as they curl around a blanket.

“Lisa?” he says finally.

He’d finally met this Earth’s version of his sister a few months back, and it’d proven…complicated. Lisa of Earth-1 was still a mix of enraged and heartbroken over her brother’s fate, and seeing his doppelganger had been a kick in the gut. But they’d worked it out, somehow, arriving at an understanding of sorts, and he’d made her promise to call if she needed anything, anything at all. (While giving Cisco a flat sort of big-brother look, which seemed to be expected of him.)

Sara’s eyes are sympathetic. “I don’t know. Best I can tell, there wasn’t anything majorly wrong. It was Barry, and you know him…he’s not great at concealing things. If anything, he sounded…” She pauses, considering. “…extremely excited.”

“That kid could get extremely excited over a new flavor of ice cream.” Len closes his eyes and sighs. “OK. How long?”

“You have a bit. We need to take our ‘guest’ back home first.” She smirks at him as he sighs again.

The guest in question is one Butch Cassidy, who’d been thrown ahead in time by a temporal anomaly and, less daunted than expected by the 1950s, promptly started putting together a new “Wild Bunch.” Len and Mick had arranged to get recruited, with Ray unable to resist tagging along, while the others had tried to figure out where to deposit Cassidy that wouldn’t mess up the man’s personal timeline. Len had been rather beleaguered, trying to keep Mick (who’d hit it off famously with Cassidy) from backsliding--and trying to restrain Ray, who was overjoyed to be in such famous company and kept happily quoting a movie that wouldn’t come out for another 10 years to a confused outlaw.

No wonder he’d been exhausted.

“OK,” Len mutters, closing his eyes again. “Well, the least that bastard owes me is another hour or two of sleep.” Then he opens one eye and starts to lever himself up on an elbow. “Or do you need me to…”

Sara’s smiling as she puts a hand on his chest, pushing him back down. “Rest, Len. We’ve got this.”

“Make Ray and Mick put their new BFF back where he belongs.” Damn, he’s tired.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He feels Sara’s lips brush his forehead. “I’ll handle it.”

“Urm.”

He hears her leave the room then, as he wills sleep to return. Of course, despite the exhaustion, his brain picks now to start obsessing over this mysterious call from STAR Labs—the one he needs to be there for. Could this Lisa and Cisco…nah. But then what…

It’s been nearly a year since he and Sara returned from his Earth, and it’s been good. Very good. He’s continued to fit in with the Legends, working with them far better than he’d ever worked with the League. And he and Sara challenge each other and back each other up and flirt and drink and fight and sleep together. They’re head over heels in love, and they make no secret of the fact at this point, and the team is amused and supportive, and life is sweet.

Except…

He’s thought about having Cisco vibe him back to his Earth to check on Lisa, to make sure she’d really taken the cure, to make sure it really worked. To make sure she’s as happy as she can be, and safe.

But he’d left the ball in her court, and he’s screwed up so much when it comes to his little sister that he’s loath to blunder back into her life just when she may be mending it. Mick knows how to find him if they want to get in contact.

Which would lead them to Earth-1’s STAR Labs. Which has just called for him.

He doesn’t want to hope.

But he can’t help it, either.

Len does sleep again, almost against his will, and Sara only wakes him well after Cassidy is safely back in 1900. She knows him well enough to read how fidgety and irritated he is at the sigh of nerves and gives him some space, pushing back and giving him a verbal set-down when his crankiness goes too far. He showers and dresses when they land in 2018, then joins the others to figure out who’s going where.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like anyone’s attacking the city,” Jax notes, looking at the newspapers Gideon’s pulled up on a viewscreen. “And Barry probably would have told us if they needed all of us. And he didn’t.”

He looks at Len, then, and the rest of the team follows suit. They know, at this point, about his sister and Mick, know that’d he’d left behind loose ends on his Earth. Len, already nervy, shifts in place, annoyed at the discomfort he’s showing and a trifle uneasy at the attention. He’s been just one of the team for so long now; he rather hates it when someone takes note that he’s from…somewhere else.

“OK, then, just let me go,” he says, turning a snap into a mutter with great effort. “No one else needs to bother. For all I know, they just need my powers for something.”

No one mentions that Team Flash has its own ice meta. Sara regards him, then eyes the others.

“I’m going with him,” she tells them, not even looking at Len. Well, maybe he deserves that, for doubting she’d have his back here. “Someone needs to stay with the ship...”

“I will.” Mick shrugs as the eyes turn to him. “Eh, I’m a better pilot than the rest of you losers—uh, not you, Sara—just in case we have to move the ship, and it might be better if I stay away from STAR Labs. If...well...I don’t think I wanna meet another me. Too weird.”

It’s perceptive. Len and Sara had long since discussed (back when Len had been a little more optimistic that his Lisa and Mick would at least check in before now) that maybe it would be better if the Micks native to their respective Earths didn’t meet. Despite similarities, they’re two very different men, although Len has the uneasy feeling that they could egg each other on to greater heights—or depths. Mick has apparently decided the same.

Impossible not to notice, though, that the team has come to the same conclusion that Len's trying not to reach— the one that he’s still holding out hope for.

In the end, Len and Sara head for STAR Labs on their own, with the team reminding them multiple times to yell or call or whatever and they’ll be there ASAP. Stein and Jax even assert that they’re going to wait a little while to be sure that all’s well before they head out to visit their own families, and Len’s rather touched by that—so much so that he even tells them so. (Jax slaps his back and grins like he’s the older of the two, and Stein bestows one of those fond quasi-paternal smiles on him.)

They have keycards to the labs, but Len still refuses to use his—and today is no exception. He heads for the Cortex, trying not to let his steps lag, Sara’s even stride beside him helping, in a way. They can face anything together, right?

Over the past year, he’s been thinking that sort of thing a lot. Interesting. And enough to have him thinking other thoughts he’s never had before.

But first, he has to get through this…whatever it is. Len feels his lips twitch, even as the end of the corridor approaches. And wouldn’t it be hysterical in a depressing sort of way, after all this, if Team Flash just wants to enlist him for a team-up, or something?

But nearly the moment he sets foot in the Cortex, he knows it’s not just that.

It’s far more.

Lisa’s standing there, her back to him—this Earth’s Lisa. Her hair is long and brown, and she’s wearing the black leather jacket he’s always seen her in, here. His Lisa had always liked lighter colors; it’s one of their differences. And she’s talking to…she’s talking to…

He stops dead in his tracks and stares. Sara, beside him, stops too, and he can hear her intake of breath. It’s not just him, then, he thinks distantly. She sees it too.

“Snart!” Barry hustles up behind him. “Seriously, of all the times not to use the key and give us a warning…”

Len ignores him. The two women ahead have heard him and, eerily in unison, they turn around. Now the breath hisses out of Len’s mouth, like he’s been physically booted in the stomach, and he takes a step forward, eyes on them, at an utter loss for what to do or say…

“Snart!”

And then he’s hit from behind, so started that he doesn’t even manage to ice up or lash out, breath driven out of him even more as his assailant lifts him right off his feet in a…bear hug?

Mick…it’s his Earth’s Mick, he realizes once he can breathe again, who else would it be?...drops him after a moment, stepping back as Barry, the jerk, laughs out loud and Caitlin, joining them, covers her mouth with her hand, obviously trying not to smile. Mick smirks at him in a way that suggests he knows just how much he’d startled his former partner, then winks at Sara. “Hello again, Blondie. Been keeping this ass out of trouble?”

“Getting into trouble with that ass, more like,” Sara tells him, grinning as he barks out a laugh at the innuendo. “Hello, Mick. Still no fire?”

“Nah. Burned out a bit on it.”

Len, who’s not sure where to look right now, chokes. “Was that a pun? That was horrible.”

“Well, you’re not around, so…”

But someone’s clearing their throat in an obvious bid for attention, and Len realizes that it’s Cisco, who’d gone over to the two women Len had been staring at and apparently brought them over to the others. The room goes silent again as Len stares at them, and they regard him in return.

This world’s Lisa finally sighs, giving him a sad little smile, far more emotion (other than anger, anyway) than Len’s seen from her before. In a gesture that seems quite genuine, she rests a hand briefly on the other woman’s arm for a moment, then turns and walks swiftly away, down another corridor. Len notices that Cisco watches her go, his expression melancholy, but the other man seems to think he needs to stay here a moment.

Sara, however, makes her own decision. She squeezes Len’s arm and then heads off after the dark-haired woman, leaving Len looking at the remaining woman, who’s looking back at him.

His sister.

Barry and Cisco are saying something in the background, but Len’s not listening, not really. Lisa looks almost tentative, an expression he’s rarely seen on her, but she’s…she’s herself. No longer a woman made of living gold. Her eyes are blue, with whites and dark pupils; her forearms are bare and normal sun-tanned flesh. She’s wearing ordinary clothing, jeans and a white blouse, no more gloves that were the only thing allowed her to touch…anything. The only thing about her that’s gold now is the necklace she’s wearing—one he gave her years ago—and her hair. It’s shorter, not quite to her shoulders, and so golden a color that Len would think it was still metal if it didn’t appear to be moving just like normal hair.

He can’t find words.

Finally, Lisa herself speaks. “It worked,” she says, very quietly, looking at him. “It worked, Lenny.”

Len clears his throat. “I see,” he says, equally as quietly. “I…I’d wondered. I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant…”

Lisa laughs a little, a disbelieving and breathless sound. “Are you kidding? I’m…I’m me again. And you came all the way from another world to do that. Thank you, Lenny. I…”

She stops then, with a little squeak of surprise, because her brother has stepped forward and done something he hasn’t done in years, not since they were both quite young. He wraps his arms around his little sister and hugs her, pulling her close and resting his chin against her golden hair, closing his eyes to try to stop the tears from welling up. (He fails.)

“I’m so sorry, Lis,” he tells her, feeling his voice thicken and trying to ignore the little “oooh” from Team Flash and the gruff murmur from Mick. “I’m so sorry. I thought I was going the right thing back then. I was wrong.”

But Lisa’s arms go around him too, and he knows, finally, that he’s forgiven.

Earth-1’s Lisa Snart had ducked into an empty office in the lab complex, and that’s where Sara finds her. The dark-haired woman is sitting on a desk and staring fixedly at her hands. She glances up as Sara moves into the room, then back down again.

“I’m glad for them,” she mutters, sounding more angry and lost than glad. “Really.”

“So am I. But…” Sara regards her, a bit at a loss. She’s only met this Lisa Snart a few times, and the first was when she’d gone with Mick to tell her that her brother had sacrificed himself. It hadn’t gone well. How could it? “But it’s hard. Sometimes. Knowing …that Len’s not him.”

Lisa’s gaze flicks back up to her, and, yeah, there’s anger there. “Oh? Kinda seems like you didn’t have much of a problem falling right into bed with this one. Didn’t remember my brother very long then.”

Now it’s Sara’s turn to blink, startled by the venom in the comment. She’d known Lisa regarded her with some suspicion, but she hadn’t quite realized that the woman felt this way. In fact, she hadn’t even told Lisa that she and the Earth-1 Leonard had been on the verge of…of something…when he’d died.

But maybe it’d been more obvious than she’d thought. Certainly, Lisa had been able to read her relationship with Len fairly accurately since the time she’d met him.

Lisa’s still watching Sara, eyes hard, but Sara thinks she sees a flicker of uncertainty in them. She’s suddenly forcibly reminded of how Earth-1 Leonard had been, back in the beginning, torn between his cold façade and his fragile connection with Sara, his growing ties to the team. He’d let go with a snide comment or nasty observation from time to time as if to prove that he didn’t care, but it hadn’t taken Sara all that long to figure out that it mostly just proved the opposite.

Damaged Snarts. She can’t seem to help trying to get through to them.

So Sara looks Lisa Snart of Earth-1 right in the eye, takes a deep breath, and tells her, “Falling in love with Len was one of the hardest things I’ve ever let myself do.”

Sara holds up a hand as the other woman starts to speak, continuing. “I’d been starting to fall for your brother, but it seems like you know that. When he…when he died, trust me, Lisa, you couldn’t possibly blame me more than I blamed myself.” She shakes her head. “I hadn’t cared for anyone since...well, in a long time, and his death hurt like hell, and I promptly went in the other direction, one-night stands throughout time, trying to make it go away, to hurt less.”

“And did it work?” Lisa’s tone is acerbic, but she won’t meet Sara’s eyes.

“You know it didn’t. And when I met Len...I shoved him away with both hands. There was no way I was going to let that happen again.” Sara smiles a little. “He was persistent. And managed to work his way in, through my walls. It wasn’t easy, Lisa. And I’ll...I’ll remember your brother until the end of my days. He made it possible for us to choose.” A deep breath. “And I chose to...to live. To move on.” She fixes the other woman with a direct look. “He’d want you to, too. And you know it.”

Lisa stares back at her, then looks away again, avoiding her eyes. It’s a very Leonard move and Sara sighs inwardly. But after another moment, Lisa looks back, and Sara’s startled to see a few tears in her eyes.

“I don’t know how,” she mutters, an angry, disconsolate comment. “I don’t know what to do. I keep trying to go good, to do what Lenny wanted, to travel or go back to school...but then I get bored, and I think about him, and I get angry, and I...” Her fists, sitting on her lap, tighten. “I don’t know how.”

Sara makes a snap decision. “Come with us?” she offers. “Be a Legend.”

Lisa stares at her another moment, then laughs a little. “Me? Time travel? Nah. It’d be really weird for...for Len to have his little sister’s doppelganger kicking around, and Mick...Mick’s turned over his new leaf. He’s found his place.” She twists her hands together, then, betraying an anxiety she doesn’t otherwise show. “I need my own.”

And to that, Sara’s not sure what to say.

“...my hair was the one thing the pill didn’t work on. I had to sort of shave it off—I looked ridiculous for a while.” Lisa shakes her head gently, setting her golden hair swaying. “And when it grew back in, it looked like this. I kind of like it.”

“An’ we sold the old hair,” Mick says cheerfully from where he’s roaming around the Cortex, inspecting everything. Team Flash had withdrawn to give them a few moments of privacy, and Mick’s rather obviously casing the place. “And the chair. Kept Scudder. No one would want something that ugly. S’ppose we could melt him down...”

Len and Lisa ignore that. “So, you’re OK?” Len asks tentatively, from his seat on a desk, while Lisa perches a few feet away. “No other ill effects?”

Lisa looks down. “Well. Yeah. Now. But it was...it was pretty tough to acclimate, really, physically. I...I hadn’t eaten in months, you know. Or seen, in a normal way. And I could be hurt again, and I wasn’t used to it.” She glances down at a few rows of small scars on her wrist, leading Len’s eyes to them too and flinching at his intake of breath. “And then I got a little addicted to the idea of feeling again. In any way.”

“Lis...” At the note in Len’s voice, Mick moves toward them again, looming protectively. Len would usually be glad to see that, but at the moment, he’s a little too preoccupied by his sister.

But Lisa’s shaking her head at him again, and there’s actually a hint of a smile on her face. “I’m fine, Lenny. Your friend found us. And she knew...she could tell I needed something different.”

“My friend?”

“The hottie,” Mick rumbles. “Um. Not Blondie. The dark-haired badass with the whip.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Lasso, Mick. Lasso.”

“Whatever.”

Lasso... “Diana,” Len breathes. “She checked in on you?” (“I give you my word...” a voice says in memory.)

“She did more than that.” Lisa glances around as Barry and Cisco move back into the room, then looks back at her brother. “She took me to her home. The island?”

Len’s jaw drops. “Themyscira?”

Mick sighs. “I asked her to take me too,” the big man mutters. “But nope.”

The idea of Mick loose on an island full of warrior women doesn’t bear thinking about. (He’d either be dead in minutes or so rapt he couldn’t speak.) Len shakes his head roughly, then stares at Lisa again. “I know of it. I mean, I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard...she took you there?”

“Took me, made sure I settled in, found me mentors.” Lisa beams at him, then at the others. “I’ve learned...well, I’ve learned so much. I’m going back, after we return. There’s a lot more I want to learn.”

Of all the things he’d thought his sister could be, a scholar isn’t particularly one of them.

“Study? What?” Cisco says then, his tone blank with surprise that Len considers a little insulting. (He’s allowed to be surprised at the notion of his sister being a scholar. No one else is.)

“Oh, history, medicine. Remember how I used to want to be a doctor?” Lisa grins at them, looking younger and happier than Len's seen her look in a long, long time. “And self-defense. I bet I could kick your ass now, big brother. And maybe even yours, Flash.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Barry tells her, grinning, as Cisco blinks.

Len shakes his head, then glances at Mick. “And you? What have you been up to?”

Mick draws himself up importantly as Lisa giggles. “Mick,” she says solemnly, “is a consultant.”

“A what?” Cisco can’t help himself. “On what? Arson and assault? Maybe a little robbery?”

“On being a crook,” Mick informs him. “Diana, she told those League people to call me if they needed advice on breaking and entering and all that crap. Some of those shiny heroes, they have no idea.” He looks thoughtful. “They pay well. And they almost always seem to call when I’m getting bored, too.”

Len flicks a glance at Lisa, who’s still smiling. “Oh?”

“Diana pays attention, too,” she informs him.

“I know you were always the brains of the operation, Snart,” Mick continues, “but that’s what I do, now. I ask myself, ‘What would Snart do?’ ” He smirks at his friend. “Then I usually do it. But sometimes I do the opposite.” He chuckles at the look at Len’s face. “Well, buddy, you got some blind spots. Like the Flash.”

“What? Why?” Barry asks quizzically, but Len hastens to change the subject.

“Not you,” he says to the kid, glaring at Mick, ignoring the fact that he knows his own counterpart here had had the same blind spot when it came to this Earth’s Barry Allen. “They really hire you?”

“Don’t act so damned surprised.” Mick folds his arms.

“Huh.” Len thinks about it a moment, feeling a smirk spread across his face. “Dealt with Br...the Dark Knight yet?”

“Nah. He’s a bit full of it, I hear. But I like the Big Guy. Good man.”

“Who...?”

Mick shrugs. “You know. The big guy, wears a cape, red ‘S’...”

Len’s getting a little tired of his jaw dropping. “You mean...”

“And his cousin’s hot.”

Barry can’t help it now. The speedster gets a good case of the giggles, sitting down and burying his face in his hands helplessly. Cisco looks like he can’t decide whether to be appalled or amused and settles for both. Len and Lisa trade looks that hold resignation at both their antics and Mick’s pithy way of stating things, which makes them both smile again.

“Well, at least someone thinks life’s amusing.” Earth-1 Lisa’s dry tone falls into the relative good cheer in the Cortex like a sponge into cold water, sobering Barry up immediately and bringing Len to his feet as he turns to look for the other two women. Sara, walking a few steps behind Lisa, gives him a look compounded of sorrow and something more nebulous. Regret? Frustration?

Lisa continues past her doppelganger, not even glancing at Len or the others, picking up a backpack sitting by the side of the room. “I just stopped by to see what was going on in Central, and happened to see her,” she says, turning and jerking her thumb at the other Lisa. “Distracted me.” She pauses, then, regarding them, eyes unreadable. Cisco takes a step toward her, but she doesn’t look at him, eyes on Len and his Lisa.

“I’m glad you got to see each other again,” she says quietly, after a moment, sincerity in her tone--then shrugs, back to studied insouciance. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I’ve got nowhere in particular to be, but I need to be there soon.”

“Don’t go already…” Cisco blurts out.

“You don’t have to…” Len says over the top of him.

“I meant the offer…” Sara adds at the same time.

But it’s Len’s sister who’s risen to her feet now, watching her doppelganger with an expression that combines, Len thinks, a sudden sympathy, and an understanding that’s beyond all the rest of them.

“No, come with me,” she says abruptly.

“What?” five of the other six people in the room say, nearly in unison. But Sara’s looking back and forth between them, Len notices, a sudden light in her eyes and a smile blossoming on her face.

“Come with me,” Lisa repeats, taking a step toward her double. “Back to our Earth.” She pauses. “And then to Themyscira. I told you about it, a little, before they got here.”

The Earth-1 Lisa stares at her, backpack still dangling from her hand. “You gotta be kidding me. Why would they…”

The other Lisa cuts her off. “I’ll tell them you’re my sister. I’ve always wanted one.” She gives Len a lurking smile, then looks back. “Sisters mean a lot, there. They’ll understand. And you’ll have a place to stay, time to think.”

She lowers her voice then, speaking directly to the other woman even though there are others who can hear. “Trust me. I understand.”

Earth-1 Lisa looks dumbfounded. Life’s never offered many favors to the Snart kids, Len thinks, and the ones here were offered even fewer than the ones on his Earth. She takes a step forward, then stops.

“I don’t think I can be...be what they are there,” the dark-haired woman in black tells the golden-haired one in white helplessly. “Some scholar or warrior of the light...I don’t think I have that in me...”

“You don’t have to be,” her doppelganger tells her firmly, then smiles. “But you just might surprise yourself. I did.”

Lisa blinks at her, then glances around the room, gaze flicking over Len, Mick, Sara and, particularly, Len thinks, Cisco. Then she takes a deep breath.

“OK.”

Len will admit that he wishes he could have a little more time with this new, happy, uncannily self-possessed version of his little sister, but he also recognizes that the longer she and Mick wait to return home, the more likely it is that Earth-1 Lisa loses her nerve and runs. For now, at least, the dark-haired woman seems a little rattled by her decision, but at peace with it.

Len, watching from his slouch against the wall, sees her gives Cisco a kiss on the cheek, a quiet word and a sad smile as they wait. His Lisa is talking, low and earnest, to Sara, who’s grinning, and wouldn’t he like to be a fly on the wall nearby for that conversation.

Or maybe not.

Mick, who’d been talking to Sara before that, ambles over to Len and the two men study each other. This man, Len knows, hasn’t come to grips with the existence of feelings in the way the Mick on the Waverider has—or, if he has, he sure as hell isn’t going to talk about them.

So Len doesn’t bring that up, doesn’t tell his oldest friend how overjoyed he is to see him well and whole and content. Maybe even happy? Certainly this Mick has seemed to smile more than Len’s ever seen before, and he hasn’t even pulled out his lighter once. And Len will admit freely, to himself, that that makes him happy, untying a knot in the vicinity of his heart that’d been there, to some extent, since the day their guns had gone critical.

But he can’t say that. Not to this Mick, not now. Maybe someday. And it’s enough to know, now, that that “someday” might exist.

“You OK?” he asks instead. “Enough cash? Decent place to crash? Not too bored?”

Mick snorts at him. “Don’t try to mother-hen me, Snart. I’m fine.” He thinks a moment. “An’ you know, I sorta like working for the League, sometimes. I think I finally get why you joined up with them, while back.”

“Really?” Len blinks at him. He can remember why he did—his desperation to save his city and the friends in it, for all that they wouldn’t given him the time of day at the moment; his surprise when enough League members thought that he, a lifelong crook, was worthy of the accolade of membership; the rush of fighting and planning with a group again...

“Yeah.” Mick smirks. “It’s even more fun giving all those heroes shit when you’re helping them out and they can’t do anything back to you.”

Len’s startled into a laugh. “Yeah,” he admits after a moment, “that was part of it.” He straightens from his slouch as he sees Cisco, across the room, wave them over, then pauses. “You take care, Mick.”

“Yeah. You too, Snart.”

To Len’s surprise, his sister approaches and drags him into another hug as he saunters over, but he's not too surprised or taken aback to wrap her in his arms one more time.

“You’re OK?” she whispers to him. “You’re happy? Because…because if you’re only staying here because of how things were with us there…”

“Lis...” Len considers his words. “Yes. More than. I’m…” He shrugs uncomfortably, trying not to look over at Sara. “Well. I’m in love. Got every intention of spending the rest of my life with her. Never thought I’d have that. Yeah. I’m happy.”

Lisa’s eyes sparkle more then than they did when they were gold. “That’s all I wanted to know,” she says, pulling away, then pauses. “I…we’ll…be back to visit,” she adds, then goes up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “In case you have any particular events you want us to be there for…”

Definitely tired of the jaw-dropping thing today. Len stares at her, but Lisa just winks at him, turning away, toward her doppelganger, who’s watching with an expression that can’t decide if it wants to be jaded or hopeful.

Lisa of Earth-1 doesn’t hug him. She doesn’t even say anything. But she gives him a nod, and there’s understanding in her expression. Len gives her a slow nod back.

And then Cisco opens a breach and the trio steps through as Len watches them, a weight lifting from his heart and mind. When it’s closed, he lets out a long breath, then turns to Sara with a sigh.

“OK. Now, really…let’s go home.”

“So, what was my sister talking to you about?”

Sara’s chuckle doesn’t really assuage his concern about that little conversation, and neither does the fact that she gives him a small smile and nothing more in answer. Len had convinced her to take the scenic route on the way back to the ship, to stroll along the Earth-1 Central City waterfront that’s really not like his city’s waterfront at all. It’s a lovely day, really, he decides, feeling a lightness of heart he’s not sure he’s felt in…well, his entire life.

And that’s why, in part, he’s decided to…to do what he’s decided to do. Today.

“She just wants me to…how’d she put it?” Sara muses when they’ve stopped a moment at the railing, looking out at the water. “Not keep you out of trouble, because she knows that’s impossible, but to continue to have your back.” She gives him a smile, an open, sparkling smile, as she leans against the rail—gorgeous, smart, and badass, a partner and a lover and a friend, everything he’d once never admitted he wanted. “I told her, always.”

Len puts his hands behind his back, concentrating, feeling one small, perfect crystal of ice form between the fingers of his left hand, and a smooth, round band of ice form in the other. He’s been practicing this trick, telling himself that it’s just for fine control, quietly thinking that it would be perfect for a…a gesture. Until they can get something more permanent.

And then he brings the two pieces together, fusing them with enough raw cold energy to keep the ring solid for quite some time, and takes a deep breath.

“Yes,” he says quietly, eyes on Sara’s as he pulls the ring out from behind his back and goes down to one knee, there on an Earth on which he wasn’t born, looking up at a woman who’d hated him in the beginning, whose eyes have widened in shock as she watches him, but whose lips have already started to form the word he wants, so badly, to hear right now. “That’s what I’m hoping for, Sara.

“Always.”

[dylanobrienisbatman]

hi hun!! this is sort of an odd question but do you have any tips for some of your (slightly) younger followers going off to college, regarding staying at home vs going to an away college? i’m starting to apply and i really want to live in a different state/area/etc just to see what the culture’s like, but my comfort zone is my hometown and surrounding areas, and im nervous i wont be able to do well entirely on my own. any advice? xxx

Hi sorry i saw this a while ago and never answered you! hope you still see this! I am so flattered you came to me for advice, i hope this helps! 

I would say my biggest advice is just so go for it. I am a very independent person so i wasn’t really afraid when i was leaving for school, but i think the biggest thing would be to dive in with both feet and sort of… embrace the nerves? University life, especially if you live in a dorm and go to a school with dining halls and such, is a really great stepping stone to a more independent lifestyle. There are a lot of safety nets, there is a lot of support, and there is a lot of things that are pre-arranged for you so you don’t have to do it all on your own. You have a place to live, you have food available to you that is pre-prepared, you have classes already scheduled and resources for them right there on your campus like tutors and a library and things like that. College is set up to help you succeed, and to make sure you have the resources you need to do so. 

You will also find a lot of people in your freshmen year who are in the same place as you, like emotionally. It’s daunting, and it’s a big step, but it’s very doable. I would also recommend maybe trying to go to a college that is… closer too where you live but still “far” enough from your hometown. My family moved a lot so when i picked a college i wasn’t picking to be close to family because i didn’t know where my family was going to be living when i was in university, but they ended up 4 hours away from me in the same state, and just having the option to drive home, or take a bus to a city half way and have them come get me, incase i really needed them, was really reassuring in my first year, even for me, who wasn’t really that worried. 

I would definitely recommend going away to college. It’s one of the best experiences of my life, that first year. You’re in a freshmen dorm, with tons of other 18/19 year olds who are in the same boat as you, and i made some wonderful friends and really got a chance to learn how to be on my own in a safe and structured environment, which i have no doubt has been of a huge benefit to me now as an adult, living on my own across the country from my family. Going away to college is really an experience unlike any other, it’s an entirely immersive experience where you have no choice but to fully involve yourself, whether its in classes, or with friends, or in clubs, or sports, or wahtever you’re into. If you live at home, you could still do those things if you wanted, but in college its so much easier when the intermural soccer team is meeting across campus at 7 just to walk there after dinner, than it would be to make sure you have time to drive back to school, if thats your thing. It’s so much easier to spend time with friends when you all live a 15 minute walk from each other. It’s easy to spend all night at the library working until 3 am when you know your dorm is only 10 minutes away, and you feel safe on your campus. Going to a four year school and living on the campus, no matter how far it is from your family, is really a very valuable and exciting experience and I can’t recommend it enough to people who can afford too and are able!! 

The biggest thing, though, is to make sure you find the right school for you. Don’t just pick one that seems cool and settle. I only applied to one undergraduate school, and i had done a TON of research on it, my cousin went so i talked to him about it, and i had a chance to visit, thankfully, and when i stepped onto the campus i knew i never wanted to go anywhere else. Obviously it doesn’t have to be THAT perfect, I got extraordinarily lucky, but make sure you do your research! Learn about the culture of the school, how big is it, what are the classes sizes, what kind of sports culture does the school have, what majors are there and also what types of other classes would they have for you to take as electives, what is the weather like in the area, and if you can go visit, because it’s really easy to feel it if you’re there. Don’t just pick a school based on the stats and show up, because it might not be right for YOU. the most important thing is that your college is a good fit for you personally, and that you feel comfortable and at home there. It will be your home for four years, give or take. Make sure it’s right. 

[littlelllusionmachine]

I think the last time I was genuinely happy was the first two years of my college experience, which puts us at about 2007-2009. 

When I was a kid, it was a rare treat to see my father. He worked in Manhattan, which, for being all of 12 miles away, may as well have been a different world. He worked long hours and more often than not he’d get more sleep if he just stayed at his office and slept rather than coming home. So, for the duration of whatever film they were either filming or editing in post, there’d be long stretches when I wouldn’t see him. 

He’d have the occasional weekend where he’d come home. Maybe I’d be off from school the next day. I don’t remember the specifics as this was the early-mid 90s. On these occasions, when he had to just drop off a drive or whatever, he’d ask me if I wanted to come to work with him. I’d always say yes, because it seemed very exciting to me - being on film sets, potentially meeting famous actors, getting to know the industry. I decided fairly early on I wanted to be part of it. 

After what seemed like hours - it was always dark when we left - we’d go home. I want to say it was around midnight - at least it felt that way to me, who was no older than 8. As we reach the bridge, he says to me on one specific ride home; “Look at it. It’s kind of like a jewelry box, right? Do you see how it sparkles?” He was talking about the buildings abutting the west side highway - and the entirety of the New York City skyline as we drove further on. It stuck with me. One of those things, a really great day - in spite of me having no recollection at all of what we did - and that one comment he made while I was in a semi-conscious stupor. 

I always wanted to go back to the city. It was where I was born, where I had friends at one point - there was nothing bad associated with it.  Being asked if I wanted to drop a reel off to someone was like being asked if I wanted to go to an amusement park. When I got to high school I took a film class and one of the projects was to film a music video set to a song of your choice. I had no friends at the time, so was at a shortage of actors -- simple solution; go to Manhattan, film from this incredible wealth of people going on with their lives. This was in a freshly post-9/11 world, so things weren’t quite the same as I remembered. . Police presence in the Port Authority. Things like that. But people continued with their humdrum day to day routine like it was nothing. I was envious of it. I did the video to Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles. 

When it came to selecting a college, I had two options: A local school, which was considered very good, or an art school in Manhattan - also very good, but 20k more than the other school per semester. I put a 500$ deposit down on the local school before deciding last minute I’d continue to be unhappy if I went there. I still, to this day, with over 10k left on my loans, believe I made the right choice. I don’t think I’d be alive if I went to the other school. 

I took the bus into the city. The bus goes on these couple-story-high ramps before stopping to let people off into the port authority. You get a good view of 9th avenue and some other areas, consequently ----  . . . The first month, going in to school, equally as tired as I was when I was a kid (It was, on some days, 7 in the morning. . )  . . I had one thought; it’s beautiful. The same as that jewelry box. No longer lit up, no longer sparkling like diamonds, but retaining that same ‘magical’ aura. This feeling faded over time, but even now, looking down on those streets, I have to smile to myself a bit. 

My mother has always been overprotective. When it was finally time to go to school that first year I was given a strict set of instructions to follow: take this bus, go on this train, transfer to this one, and walk this way. Do not look at the map under any circumstances or they’ll know you don’t belong. We ran through it the week prior to the first week of school together. On the first day I called to say I had forgotten everything, though I had figured it out. I don’t think she was pleased with me. 

I continued to do this for a few weeks before realizing I could walk the two miles faster than the subway could take me, so, I started to do it. I felt good, walking. Exploring. If I had time I’d take a different street. In the two miles you go through all kinds of neighbourhoods. One street could mean the difference between a “bad” and “good” area. I wanted to see them all. 

She came to accept this, but not before giving a warning: Don’t go to the Bronx. Don’t go too far uptown. That kind of thing. 

By my third year I had explored Harlem. I explored some of the area of the Bronx by the zoo. I got yelled at for both. I have walked from the southernmost point to the northernmost in all my travels. Last month I explored the Bronx further. I got another concerned lecture. I am 10+ years an adult. 

What does any of this have to do with the song above?

I had a playlist, which exists to this day (in a slightly different incarnation) entitled “For Subway/Walking”. Songs I enjoyed that had a nice beat to walk to, that’d keep me entertained. Simple. This song was one of the many on it.

Early on in my travels I discovered the Chelsea Hotel:

Which has an entirely different aura from the rest of the city. It’s huge, daunting - doesn’t really seem to belong where it is. There’s a pharmacy and a gym like a block away. Nothing makes sense in the area, but the hotel is a bit of a landmark. It’s one of those things that are so seemingly out of place, it’s like if you walk in through the doors there’ll be a whole new dimension to explore. I never went in, though I’d go out of my way to walk past the hotel every time I had a class on the west side. On certain days it’d look slightly different - not sure if it was how the sun lit it up, the general ‘feel’ of the area that day or what. . I took pictures every now and then, often looking the same, but I just had a need to keep that days memory in some kind of archive. 

The Chelsea Hotel has been the home to many celebrities over the years. Ginsberg resided there. Once there was a banner hanging out of one of the windows asking to “bring back the poets” - I snapped a photo of that. 2001: A Space Oddity was written in those walls. Nancy Spungen was killed there. There’s just such a rich history to it. There’s an entire section on wikipedia about the notable residents. 

It’s also a hotel where the Libertines recorded some music, The Babyshambles Sessions, in New York. 

I have a couple memories, listening to my playlist while walking past that hotel. . . Nothing specific, just walking - listening to the songs. Especially the one up above. And it’s some of the best memories of my life. I was finally where I wanted to be, listening to music that made me feel good, by a beautiful building where the band members once stood. I didn’t really pay much attention to the lyrics, it was more about a mood and it served its purpose. 

Which is ironic, because the song is about. . . 

. . . .”Carl once said to Pete "its either the top of the world or the bottom of the canal" - he had a big fear of wasting his life and ending up eating cold beans out of a tin and watching daytime telly on a fuzzy TV - they grew to call this concept 'death on the stairs' - the miserable state that some people become, and that’s what this song is about.”

That’s exactly where I fucking am. I discovered grubhub and the allure of not having to cook or do anything for myself without the “risk” of using a phone and placing an order. I work, I work my second job, and I watch late night cartoons and occasionally fall asleep on the sofa. Sometimes I work, then immediately come home and go to sleep in spite of it being like 6p. 

I never intended on living this long, so that was never a fear of mine. I had this premonition my entire life, like every since I decided I wanted to do something in the art field. I’d get my job, be miserable doing it, and eventually give myself alcohol poisoning before dying in some bar or in the street at 3 am between the ages of 26 and 27. So I never planned past that point. 

Here I am, never once getting a job in my field of choice to be miserable doing as to be the catalyst for my eventual death. I am older than 27. I am working, at least the one job, at the same place I have been working since 2010 -- a job I only got so I could afford the bus/subway to get into the city in the first place. And I am still miserable, but I am not even allowed that (dare I say? ) romanticized artists death. 

This is Death on the Stairs. I have managed to corrupt one of my last happy memories.

Now my parents are planning on moving. My dad is no longer in the film industry so there’s no reason to be paying the ridiculous taxes and fees involved with being in a suburb of the city. Everything is cheaper out west. Unfortunately, so is the scope of the people’s world --- I asked a realtor how to get to the city with public transportation and he stated he wasn’t fully sure. 

I don’t have anywhere to return to. The last time I was in the city, a guy in a ski mask was waiting on the subway platform. He got very close to my face and it scared the fuck out of me. I no longer travel with a knife or anything like that since one of them was confiscated from me years ago (again, post 9/11 world) -- it was just one of those things, as I’m recalling my mother; don’t go here, here, or there . . . you don’t belong. It was the first time I even had the thought that maybe she was right. And that was terrifying since that’s the only place I ever felt like I did belong. And even then, it was the anonymity that drew me to it. Nobody cares about you and. . . you’re not going to care about anybody. And even there, I felt, while on that platform, I didn’t belong. I did not tell her about this incident. 

I don’t want to move. I don’t want to let go of this thought; maybe I will be happy. Maybe I can get over the crippling social anxiety. Maybe I can find the time to sit down, assemble a portfolio, and put myself out there. Maybe I can get a job doing something I love. Maybe I can earn enough so I can get to a point where my parents won’t be scared shitless about my future; how I can’t support myself. How I don’t seem to have any aspirations. How I just don’t belong. The truth is I never belonged here, either - that’s what made New York so alluring to me in the first place. Now I am losing everything. 

I have been thinking a lot about killing myself lately. It’s not that I have any plans to go through with it, and I am not saying this as a desperate act of ‘I need help/attention’ or ‘Call someone’ -- nothing like that, no. On the contrary.  It’s just something that has been at the back of my mind. It’s hard going through the day when you’re being instructed to just go fuck off. Just die or something. My only solace is that my view is already from the bottom of that canal and all I can see is the lingering silhouette of the Chelsea. But it’s getting further away. Regardless, I suppose up is the only way to go --

And in the interim, it’s nice to reflect on those moments of happiness. Even if they are so far out of reach.