tbh i don’t know what this is or where it came from. it’s kind of a cross between a reincarnation and hades/persephone au. it’s p short but i didn’t know where i was going with this anyway so this is lit just 1k words of me not knowing what i’m doing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
He has gone by many names and many more faces in the millennia since his creation. They’d called him Persephone, once. Had worshipped him, offered tributes in his honour, and celebrated the beginning of spring. He hasn’t been worshipped in a long time. The name he settles on this time is James Potter, a sensible, dependable, ordinary name for something as unordinary as he is. He likes it. It suits him; suits this version of him.
This version is a painter who can barely afford the rent on a one bedroom flat in East London (you can only be a florist so many times); who wears glasses because without them his eyesight is terrible, and whose bedside table consists of the entire works of Jane Austen.
He feels the cold fingers of winter begin to wind their way through the broken bedroom window; feels the damp, mildewy mattress beneath him shake slightly, and smiles. It’s slow, leisurely, taking its time to spread across his face and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. He doesn’t move because it would be pointless. She’ll find him, because she always finds him.
If you're accepting remix prompt. Hope is a thing with feathers remix: He meets her while it's still kinda taboo for them to be together (she's young). What happens?
little-inkstone said: If I haven’t missed the promptathon can I ask for short remix of
a Thing With Feathers? Maybe instead of Belle seeing Gold’s roses he
sees her feathers first?
Well, it’s short and I hope sweet. Thank you for sending these in!
Gold couldn’t say what possessed him to leave Scotland and fly to the other side of the world, but once he stepped off the runway and into the Melbourne airport itself, he knew in his heart that he’d made the right decision.
The seasons were turned upside down of course, but it was a mild spring day and the taxi ride to his rented flat was an eye opening experience. He’d studied up on Australia, learning its history and culture, but knowledge was one thing and experience was another. He booked his ticket without even considering the impact it would have on his life. It was a one-way ticket, the urge to go pulling at him until his stomach was a constant ache and his heart felt tied up in a knot it would take Alexander the Great himself to untie with a rusty, dull sword.
He could always go back to Glasgow and his dingy little flat, but there was nothing for him there. He spent years searching and waiting and despairing and, now that he’d given up finding her in Scotland, his heart told him to go and so he went. Gladly. Hopefully.
He spent a week figuring out the neighborhood around his new apartment, venturing out amid the new sights and smells and accents, wondering if now, at last, he might catch of glimpse of her. His instincts led him to libraries, staying for hours among the stacks, hovering like a buzzard among the students who came to study for their upcoming exams. It was a bit creepy, maybe, but he had to know. It felt right, being here in this new city in a new land and that hope he’d tried to bury back home welled up inside him until he wanted to sing.
He had been wandering around the city for three weeks — every day that wishful anticipation that this would be the day he found her — when he decided to try the first library again, which was just seven blocks from his new place. The afternoon had been the warmest he’d experienced so far and his new neighbors, after eying his thick suits, had been warning him that it would only get worse and that he would need to start loosening his ties at least.
Gold didn’t like to do that. His roses were everywhere and the people back home had reacted poorly whenever they saw them. So far he hadn’t seen anyone with nearly as many Marks as he bore and it was too delicate a subject to bring up in casual conversation. One never asked about someone’s Marks back home and he didn’t want to step into the same forbidden territory here either.
His skin prickled when he walked up the steps to the library and, heart pounding wildly in anticipation, his eyes darted every which way, flitting from one face to another until he saw her three steps up and five long strides away.
She was staring back at him with wide, sky blue eyes underneath a mass of chestnut curls that shone in the sunlight, giving her an ethereal appearance that defied his imagination. Her lips, pink and perfect, opened, but not a sound came out and there was another tug inside him as he felt the dire urge to hear her voice. He knew it would be just as lovely as she was. She was just a tiny thing, barely over five feet and for that he felt an overwhelming relief. It was as if they were made just for each other and he felt the burden of years lift perceptively as he helplessly blinked at her.
She was… she was perfect.
His fists, clenched until his fingernails had bitten into his palms, uncurled as a feeling of rightness settled over him and he put one shaking palm against his heart as if to keep that fluttering, beating thing inside his chest while it wanted nothing more than to fly to her. She was beautiful. He hadn’t expected that. It didn’t even occur to him to think about beauty. How could he when he was short and scrawny and already so old? She was getting no prize and he felt the imbalance even more now that they were face to face.
He knew she’d be young. He’d calculated the years and days and hours until he knew almost to the minute when she was born, but he never fully realized exactly what that meant until he was standing before her in awe.
She was seventeen and he was… technically old enough to be her father at exactly twice her age. But he had already waited so long. Maybe she would understand. Maybe they could learn about each other and he could, maybe, spend some time with her a bit while she finished growing up. Surely she would want to finish school. Maybe earn an advanced degree. He had the money for it, he could give her anything she ever desired and he would wait patiently until she felt ready to embark on the next step if she wanted to. Now that they’d found each other, the sense of urgency was gone and he could breathe easy for the first time in seventeen years.
He didn’t know how long they stood on the steps of the library staring at each other. It felt like time had completely stopped to him, but that was almost as impossible as getting Marked at seventeen and around him, time sped up again until he suddenly found himself meeting her at the third step between them, hands outstretched to grasp hers.
The soft touch of her skin was like a lightning bolt through his veins and he gasped even as he clutched at her hands, gazing unbelievingly into her eyes. She stared back at him, breathless and wondering and so unfairly beautiful that it almost hurt to look at her.
“I was beginning to think you didn’t exist,” she said, her voice deeper than he expected in an accent that felt just as right as she did.
“I’d given up hope years ago,” he replied, watching her eyes widen at his accent and how quickly she put the pieces together.
“You’re from… Scotland?” she asked, tentatively, the corners of her lips curling up in a smile that made his insides feel like butterflies had taken up residence.
Her eyes flit over him, searching his face and wandering down to their entwined fingers. He was, as usual, buttoned up from top to bottom, no sign of a Mark to be seen. He, however, could see hers peeking out from her sleeves as they draped delicately all along her forearms. He had always wondered what her Mark might look like. Had doodled endless images on countless scratchpads, but he had never come close to the graceful feathers that Marked her skin. Golden and exquisite, they curled and fanned over her soft skin as they disappeared underneath her sleeves and he knew that they covered her from neck to belly and back as did his.
So beautiful. Just like her.
“Aye,” he murmured a bit too late, dragging his eyes away from her arms back up to her face. He wanted to kiss her. Needed to hold her. Felt ready to burst for the wanting of her, but she was too young. Too beautiful. Too everything. “Glasgow.”
He took in a deep, shuddering breath and he glanced over his shoulder at the building behind them. “Do you still have to study,” he managed to croak out.
She shook her head at him, slowly. “No,” she told him after a moment. “I think you should come home with me and meet my folks. I’ve been telling them that you were close for a month now. They’re so anxious to meet you.”
The gut-wrenching panic came back in force. They would take one look at him and send him packing. He was thirty-four now. Thirty-four to her seventeen and everything was all wrong. “Now? A-are you sure?”
“Of course!” she said, smiling up at him. She gazed at him fondly, then, as if it was the most natural thing in all the world, tucked a stray piece of his hair back behind his ear before sliding her palm down to cup his cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life. I don’t want to wait any longer.”
The invasion of butterflies went spiraling out of control and he practically beamed down at her in elation, feeling ready to wrestle a bear if she asked him to.
She took his hand in hers and led him down the steps, turning right at the sidewalk.
“Oh! My name is Belle French,” she told him suddenly, stopping short and turning towards him when she realized that they still didn’t know each other’s names.
Belle French! The most wonderful two words in the universe!
He didn’t quite hesitate to respond, but his name had always made people question his sanity. “My name is, uh, Marcus Gold,” he told her, shyly glancing down at the feathers on her arm. “My aunts called me Mark. Everyone else just calls me Gold.”
Belle’s bubbling laughter was infectious and they giggled together all the way to her house.
i saw an anon talking about dnp's duvet covers and how 'Even though Dan and Phil moving' am i missing out on something? have they confirmed that they are moving? i'm confuse, as usual
they haven’t confirmed it themselves but we have ! i just don’t see how they couldn’t move this year because like? they’re obsessed with dogs and they need one but they can’t have one as long as their renting their flat. i don’t think they’ll last
“I was alone with them for six years. You think they’re crazy now? Think about what they were like when they were in their late twenties. Two catholics in a rented flat with a screaming baby who just got married because they wanted to have sex. They didn’t even love each other. I was in the middle of that, alone.
And then you came along. Thank God! And you followed the path that I cut for us. Untouched. You just moved in my jet stream.
And people laugh at me, Conor. The stoner, the college dropout. And they praise you, which is fine! But once…I was a fucking jet engine!”
I’m crying, because haters
“grown ass man” like it’s the worse insult in the fucking universe, when it’s
one of the nicest things they can say about him. It means he is a mature man,
not an immature twerp like some guys in TW. It means he is able to deal with
his shit. It means he is responsible and takes responsibility of his
actions. It means he doesn’t hide behind his daddy, when he has problems with
law. It means he doesn’t blame others and is aware of things he has done. It
means he has his hormones in check and doesn’t moan about his little hurt
feelings and man’s pain. It also means he is independent, has a stable job, rents
a flat and doesn’t need to ask mummy for permission.
Basically speaking, he
is a grown ass man, what makes him a fucking dream guy for the most of the
single people on this planet.
Shocked with Tyler’s secrets, Isabella decided to start living on her own. She does not want to return to her family, but does not have enough money to rent a flat, so she lives in a tiny shack and looks for slightly expired food in the supermarket’s bins.
Looking for apartment and somebody to share rent with. Leaving current flat because current owners are assholes. Silent, barely at home, owning about 2 things so there will be no stocking problems, no pets, no smoking inside, will do half of the chores, doesn’t like talking, won’t bother you, is responsible and serious. How much I’m offering to pay is negotiable.
Sorry you don’t get more support at home. When does m get back?
i factually live alone right now - m. and i are renting this flat together, but he’s in germany right now for a year (until the end of july) for a student exchange program. we’ve been able to spend about three weeks together for christmas, one of which we spent in germany, but now i’m back. we’re going to see each other in march at the latest, but until then, it’s going to be hard. and my parents are part of the problem, i guess. they are really sweet and really try to do things right, but they seem to not understand us at all. my father is trying to chain me to the family, in a way (i’m the oldest sibling). and they still haven’t gotten used to the fact that m. and i are getting married and that he’s the one. they are very awkward and sometimes pretty condescending around him, and they often don’t take my decisions seriously anymore because they think i’m doing things that way only because of him. anyways. thank you. ♥ sorry for rambling.
nickname: Linz, Lynner
star sign: Gemini
sexual orientation: heterosexual
hogwarts house: erm…I don’t remember. Hufflepuff maybe?
favorite color: Green. Any shade. I just love green.
average hours of sleep: 6-7
cats or dogs: three cats–Neko, Cooper, and Audrey
fave character: Ever?! Wow…um…I don’t even know!
# of blankets: 2 for sure. Three is better. Especially when I’m feeling anxious, then I want the extra weight!
singer/band: The Beatles, hands down
dream trip: I did it already–traveled to London for a month over Christmas one year. Rented a flat in Kensington. Wrote a bunch. Travelled around a bit. It was tremendous.
dream job: Author, or teacher. Honestly. I love my job right now!
number of followers: less than 200. Don’t make me say.
what who made you decide to make a tumblr: I joined Tumblr for Twin Peaks in 2012. I didn’t touch my Tumblr again until 2014, because of Sherlock. And now it’s almost entirely because of Twin Peaks that I’m on here again with any regularity!
Alright, just to clarify for an eighth and final time, this is completely temporary. You’re not moving in. If you want to move in you have to pay rent, and probably put the flat you and the Worlds Longest Walking Disappearing Act were sharing back on the market. I’m just taking care of you because I’m like ninety percent sure you can’t be trusted to cook for yourself, or handle most household chores without accidentally losing a limb somehow, if I’m honest.
Just so we’re completely clear. Alright?
*He sets the mug of ‘tea’ he brought with him from the kitchen on the floor in front of Zeke, to the left of the travel cauldron simmering in the living room, and then crosses his arms over his chest.*
Now. Drink your experimental tea so I can see if there are any unexpected side affects. There should be no purple spots on your…you know. …this time.
Last time was a fluke, I promise. I know exactly where I went wrong and it won’t happen again.