[slow updates] [H.S.] : Bexley Heart isn't anything more than a growing young adult, already pushing her way into the rough world. She lives as a recluse, away from her past life, on the outskirts of London City in England, working weekdays as a janitor at the town's beloved local theatre, The Poe. As she fights her denial of her own depression and loneliness, she encounters the one who can cure it all- a tall, heavily troubled boy named Harry, who inhabits the mental disorder of autism, and the walking disability of cerebral palsy. As time goes on, they will both struggle to find where they belong in the world- which just might be with one another. “Believe it or not, you saved me, Harry.” “F-from-m w-what?” “Myself.” ~ [unedited] cover made by: @anomaly- © Copyright 2015. All rights reserved.

"Please help me fix it." "Fix what?" "Me." Harry meets a girl who could possibly save his life, but after a terrible accident, he's not so sure if he'll ever see her again.

"she's m-mine; my babygirl." or harry has a strange case of ocd and allie-rose is the first thing he allows himself to get attached to.

In which complicated 24-year-old Harry meets young 17-year-old Maia and she ruins his life in every way he could ever want.

"Um, hey. My family heard you was our new neighbour, so we would like you to take these cookies." "I'd much rather take you against this wall baby girl."

His fingers clench tightly around my cuffed wrists. "I don't know whether to murder you or fall in love with you," he whispers. I look into his iridescent green eyes. "Either way you'll cause me pain." **NOTE: story has been discontinued Atlantis94 All Rights Reserved © 2014 Cover art: @SeranadingHarry

[warning: this was my first story, so I apologize for any mistakes, bad plot, etc.] [H.S.] : “I d-don’t believe in... Creatures like you; mythical things,” I say, suddenly feeling idiotic. I'm talking to no one, just myself, like always; yet I stutter out these words, my heart secretly wanting him here. "I only believe in things that are true." “But you, my Nyx,” a cold breeze plays with the curtains and blows a strand of hair in my face. The hairs on my arms and neck stand on end, while my heart beats feverishly in my chest. He's here. “You can feel me. You believe in my presence. Without your belief, I don't exist,” he whispers, his voice reaching the depths of my soul... ~ © Copyright 2014/2015. All rights reserved.