#I woke up this New Year’s Day with this image in my brain so I had to inflict it upon the rest of u | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

certaimromance · 2 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 In Exile.

Post prison Reid x BAU!reader

Summary: When your romantic relationship with your co-worker is discovered by your superiors, everything falls apart. You both have to decide which one of you will leave the team.

Words: 2,4k.

TW: so much angst without happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I wanted to thank you for the 500 followers🩷 It really makes me happy because when I first started writing here, I was just experimenting.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You always knew this would eventually come to light.

It was only a matter of time before the way your eyes and Spencer's eyes released hearts when you saw each other was noticed by the profilers and agents who saw you on a daily basis. With the two of you working so closely together and obviously bonding even in the few hours you spent together outside of work, rumors and theories about what kind of relationship you had would sooner or later spread around the place. And you both knew that would happen from the first time your lips touched, and any professional barriers you maintained were instantly broken.

You had tried so hard to ignore the fact that you found him attractive since the first time you set foot in the FBI offices, almost two years ago now, when you introduced yourself to the team and he was the only one who gave you a small smile instead of an awkward handshake. You don't know exactly when that simple thought in the back of your mind started to mutate into an attraction that made your hair stand on end every time you were paired with him on a case because he had more experience and you complemented each other well. One day you just woke up feeling weird every time you thought about how bright his eyes were, and then some time later, on one of the cold nights you spent trying to solve cases as Luke's partner during the months Spencer was in prison, you began to miss him intensely, even saying his name so many times by accident. You felt so silly all the way home, imagining that he was there, just a few seats away, and that he would get up at any moment to talk to you...so silly.

For him it was different, he knew something was special about you from the first time you were put to work with him, when you didn't ask a single question about how the place worked because you knew the rules and protocols by heart long before. There was something about your need to go after perfection now that you had the job of your dreams that made him move and start feeling an automatic need to protect you and prevent at all costs the things he had seen a job like yours do from happening to you as well. However, that didn't justify the times he stared at you for more than five seconds while you were distracted for no apparent reason, or the times he said out loud to his colleagues that he saw nothing but good intentions in you. His feelings were only obvious to himself when an unsub wounded you in the middle of the investigation, when Spencer had gone back to the car to get some images for the interrogation and left you alone, only to return to find you wounded on the floor with little pulse. He hadn't felt this scared about losing someone in years, he thought his brain had been wired to expect any loss after so many. But you were so different.

Everything was different between the two of you. So perfect, so special and real that you delusionally believed that a relationship you always knew was forbidden could work out well.

But the consequences of your actions had suddenly hit you like a surprise attack, knocking you to the ground and beating you relentlessly. It hadn't even occurred to you that on any given Tuesday, as you were clearing the table to go to your apartment after successfully closing a new case, Emily would summon you urgently to her office with a guilty look on her face. The last thing you expected was that Reid would be there too, waiting for you to find out. And of course, everything that happened next was a thousand times more unexpected.

Apparently, your relationship was already known to everyone, including your superiors. And because of this, one of you would have to leave the team. Be transferred elsewhere or resign because it was felt that a couple could not work effectively together. And you only had a week to think about it and make a decision.

From the day the news broke and you left your boss's office, there was a noticeable lack of conversation between the two of you. And the fact that you were together on every single investigation made it worse, especially when it was your turn to be alone with him.

At present, neither of you felt comfortable talking as you walked to your car after talking to the families of the victims of the case you were investigating. Even though the street was completely empty, you both kept the respectful distance you should have kept before this disaster. The same distance that had become automatic over the past few days.

“We can't ignore this conversation forever, can we?” Your voice echoed in the place as you paused before opening your car door and turned to face him, attempting to discern the thoughts that were likely racing through his mind.

“I'm afraid we can't.” Spencer replied, his expression neutral. He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair before getting in the car and waiting for you two to talk inside.

You followed him to the car and, in your haste, closed the door behind you with a bit more force than you intended. After the loud sound, a silence fell over the car, and you both sat quietly for a few moments.

“It's been days now. I think we need to talk about what's going on.” You finally spoke, looking straight ahead, trying not to look at him.

Spencer leaned back in the car seat and sighed deeply, his fingers drumming nervously on his thighs. He knew you were right, but he feared much more than he let on about the conversation and especially the consequences of the things that would be said. Something in him wanted to prolong his uncertainty as long as possible, to avoid facing an unwanted future.

“I know.” He said after a few seconds in a quiet voice. “But...What do we say to each other? It's a lose-lose situation no matter what we do.” He added in a dejected tone.

A strong pain seized your chest as you heard his words. He was right; no matter what happened, the two of you would lose something. And there was no way around it.

You finally turned to look at him, your expression a mixture of sadness and determination before you spoke. “I know, I know.” You admitted. “But we have to decide what we want to lose.”

Low blow, so low.

“But what if...what if we don't want to lose anything?” He asked softly, his eyes searching yours for some hope that wasn't there.

It felt like a crossroads, like you couldn't hide or escape anymore. You both loved your work and loved each other, but you couldn't have both. They were clearly incompatible at the moment.

You took a moment to collect yourself before responding. “I don't know.” You admitted. “We can't have it both ways. Either us, or our work.”

“And what do you want to lose?” He asked slowly, closing his eyes for a moment before he heard your answer, bracing himself for the impact.

You took a deep breath, thinking carefully about his question before answering. You were head over heels for Spencer. You'd never imagined you could be so in love with anyone. You couldn't imagine your life without him now that you'd already spent so much time together. He really was everything you always thought was extinct, every high expectation that used to make you believe you would die without a love that didn't cause you grief. But the BAU...It had been your dream job for as long as you could remember. You had worked so hard to get the position you currently held, investing years of your life and sacrificing countless hours to be the best at everything and making it possible without anyone's help.

“It's not that I want to lose something, I raised the situation wrong.” You tried to explain, but stumbled over your own words and ended up staying silent for a few seconds under his expectant gaze.

Spencer listened intently to your words, his heart heavy and his mind full of conflicting thoughts that tore him apart inside. He desperately wanted to be selfish, to stay with you and the team, to carry on as you were without worrying about anything. But he knew that was impossible without serious consequences for both of you.

“What are you trying to say?” He asked, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“I mean, I don't want to lose anything, but I feel like I have to. I think we both feel the same way.” You had a hard time expressing yourself and forming the sentences you wanted to say in your mind. “And it's inevitable to ask what our priorities are.”

“And…what are your priorities?” He asked you quietly, dreading your answer but guessing what it was going to be.

You shuddered at Spencer's question. The moment of truth had arrived and you would have to lay everything out on the table, including the cards you didn't like so much. You looked down at your hands, fidgeting nervously with your fingers for a few moments before lifting your eyes to meet his.

“This job, you know how much I wanted it. And my career-”

As you spoke, his expression didn't change at all. I had a feeling this was going to happen. He knew you loved your job, that it was your passion, and that you had fought years for it. He tried not to feel hurt by it, but he couldn't help but feel a slight pang in his chest when he heard you say that his name wasn't first on your list.

“I understand.” He said gently, placing his hand close to yours to show he wasn't angry or anything like that. “I know how important this job is to you, and I respect that. You have every right to prioritize your career. I just want you to be happy.”

The atmosphere in the car was somewhat tense and uncomfortable. The only sound that could be heard was the slow, controlled breathing of the two of you. Spencer's heart felt heavy in his chest, as though it might burst out at any moment. He couldn't help but wonder if he had perhaps allowed his vulnerability to cloud his judgment, if he had fallen in love too quickly, or if he had been too hasty in trusting that love could finally work for him. He chided himself for allowing himself to fall so deeply in love with you, knowing that the odds of it working out were not particularly high. Given his unfortunate streak of bad luck and the seemingly unbreakable curse that seemed to be upon him, driving away every person he loved.

“But what about you? What do you want?” You asked, your voice a gentle whisper.

Spencer's heart beat a little faster as he considered your question. What did he want? Well...he wanted to stay with you and the team, and he wanted to be able to love you publicly, hold your hand, and go out with you without having to worry if anyone saw you two. He wanted more than stolen kisses, secret rendezvous, and late-night text messages. But he also knew it was a dream that was perhaps a little selfish and unrealistic for many reasons.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to push down the wave of emotions that threatened to overcome him. As he spoke, his voice was shaky. “I...I want to be with you, more than anything. But I also know how hard you've worked to get to where you are. And I don't want to take that away from you.” He said with an aching heart. “And I also like my job, I've had it for years...that's all I've ever had.”

“So what does that mean?” You couldn't help but frown, feeling a little defensive all of a sudden, though you didn't mean to take it out on him. “That they should transfer me because you've been at BAU longer? I'm pretty sure that's what they'll do.”

Needless to say, that was bound to happen. After all, Reid was a genius, while you were just a disposable agent who had taken a foolish chance for love.

Spencer couldn't help but take notice of the defensive tone in your voice, feeling a pang of hurt, but he pushed those feelings aside and tried to keep his cool. He took a deep breath before responding.

“No, that's not what I meant-” He was quick to rebut, but you cut him off before he can continue.

“But that's what's going to happen, isn't it?”

“Is that really the only thing that matters to you?” He asked quietly, his expression tinged with sadness.

“Of course not.” You replied, frustration creeping into your voice. “You know that's not true. But I can't just ignore my career. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I've made sacrifices-”

He interrupted you, his voice low and earnest. “And so have I.” He said, his eyes fixed on you. “I’ve also made sacrifices, for us. I’ve kept this relationship a secret, I've lied for you. I’ve put myself in danger for you. And I’d do it all again in a heartbeat, because I love you.”

Your heart raced as you listened to his impassioned words. You knew he loved you, but hearing him say it aloud, despite everything that was happening, still had the power to knock the wind out of you. You felt guilty immediately for your outburst, knowing that it wasn’t directed at him, but at the situation you found yourself in, at the unfair choices you were forced to make.

“You know I love you too.” You said, your voice quieter now, full of pain and unspoken words. “But we can't expect Emily to cover for us or try to do anything else for us, and we can't keep sneaking around like thieves.”

“What should we do then? If none of us are able to leave the team?” He asked with no real intention of hearing the answer.

After a brief pause, during which you appeared to be searching for the most appropriate way to phrase your response, you finally spoke. “Maybe we should leave something else.”

“Us?”

“Us.”

What a scary way to end.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid imagine #moontober <3 #spencer reid x you

194 notes · View notes

cutielando · 9 months ago

Text

threat | m.v.

synopsis: in which your secret relationship is under threat

my masterlist

Secret relationships were fun.

Sneaking out behind people’s backs, stealing glances at each other when you thought nobody was watching.

But they stopped being fun once management got involved.

Max had a very public life, and a very dangerous job to begin with. He needed to be careful with a lot of things, and that oftentimes included his image. He didn’t care about any of it, he was content with people not knowing about your relationship in order to protect your privacy and have something that was only for himself.

He was okay with it, you were okay with it, everybody was happy.

Except for Red Bull Racing.

They didn’t like the idea of their number 1 driver being seen as unapproachable because he is always without a partner, and since you two didn’t want to showcase the relationship on their terms, they figured out another way to go.

PR relationship with a model.

You couldn’t say that you were surprised. Red Bull was notorious for being willing to do whatever it takes to be on the top, no matter in what field. But you didn’t expect Max to go along with it, certainly.

“We need to talk” he had announced after he came home from a meeting with Red Bull.

You raised your eyebrow, his tone doing little to soothe the worries pitting in your stomach.

“About what?”

“Us” his response made your breath hitch in your throat.

“What about us?” a million thoughts were running through your head, one more sinister than the other.

He sighed, scratching his neck.

“I don’t want to beat around the bush, so I’m just gonna say it. The team doesn’t think that hiding our relationship is beneficial for my reputation, so they are giving us two choices. We either go public in the next few days or they’re gonna hire a model to be my fake girlfriend” to say that the news had come like a punch would be the understatement of the year.

You knew from the very beginning that Red Bull was very vocal and opinionated over your relationship with Max and how it should evolve, but you never thought they would stoop down so low and come up with something like this just because you wouldn’t play by their rules.

“What did you tell them?” you asked, part of you afraid of what the answer would be.

He was silent for a moment, which spoke more about the situation than his words would.

“I told them that I didn’t like being given an ultimatum and that I’m gonna think about it” hearing him brought tears to your eyes.

You didn’t know what you should have expected. Of course he would end up agreeing, you were stupid to think that he would stand up for your relationship and live a secret life forever. You should have known better from the very start.

Who were you even kidding?

“I see” you said, after being silent for a good minute upon hearing him.

“I obviously don’t want to date someone else, regardless if it’s fake or real. But we need to talk about this. You know how the team is, they’re going to make the decision for me and we both know what that decision is going to look like” he said, slowly approaching the bed and sitting down next to you.

You nodded, staring at the folded hands in your lap.

Your brain was struggling to make a decision, struggling to weigh in all the factors that it was supposed to consider.

Were you ready to go public with your relationship? Did you really have what it takes to be Max’s girlfriend? How would his fans react when they found out he was dating someone as ordinary as you? How would it affect his reputation and relationship with the team? Was it even worth the risk?

“I can see the wheels turning in that pretty head of yours. Wanna tell me what you’re thinking so hard about?” his voice woke you up from your little trance, his joking tone doing little to soothe your worries.

You looked at him, analyzing the features of his face. He was too good for you, you knew that. But damn you and your selfishness, you weren’t about to let him go.

“I don’t want to be the reason you tarnish your relationship with the team. I love you too much to be that person. The decision is up to you” you figured that letting him decide would be your best bet, it was his reputation on the line after all.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you into going public. We’ll do whatever makes you comfortable. I just wanted you to know what the team is planning to do, but I’m not going to let them ruin us” he reassured you, taking your hand in his.

You closed your eyes and savored the feeling of his skin on yours, his touch familiar and safe. Nobody had ever made you feel like Max does, not even close to it. He brought a sense of comfort in your life that nobody else ever could, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You had to take a risk if you wanted to be with him.

No matter how hard it would be.

“I want to go public, believe me, I do. But what are your fans going to say? You see what they do with the other girlfriends, they look for the tiniest reason to just tear them to shreds” you said, worry laced with apprehension in your voice.

Max shook his head and scooted closer to you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting hug.

“My fans are the last thing that you should be worried about. If they don’t agree with our relationship, then they aren’t my real fans. All that matters is that we’re happy and in love, nobody else has a say in this” he reassured you, running his hand up and down your back as he spoke.

You listened and then ultimately nodded, knowing that he was right and you were freaking out over nothing.

As long as you had Max, you would be fine.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

741 notes · View notes

3liza · 1 month ago

Text

I'm trying to figure out how to communicate instructions to other people about how I almost completely escaped my crippling adolescent body dysmorphia and anorexia but the thing is I don't really know how it happened. it was like one day I woke up and didn't care that much.

i still had all the central psychological dysfunctions but it was like I had decided to ignore them because I had finally internalized that I was acting crazy and acting crazy, unlike being crazy, is a choice. unless you're experiencing psychosis or delusions. and the body dysmorphia is a form of delusion certainly but it's a form you can still sample against reality and see that it's not matching up. you can't do this with actual hallucinations but you can do it with stuff like obsessive thoughts about how ugly you are and how everyone hates you and how ugly people have no value etc etc. that kind of stuff is observably false and integrating constant reality checking into your obsession loops will derail a lot of the delusional obsession. your brain will fight back with arguments like "it's fine for her to be ugly because of magical reason I made up but it's not fine for me because of another magical reason I made up" but these arguments can also be quickly reality checked into irrelevance even if you still *feel* they are true. you may FEEL that the obsessive delusions are true but you can, to a certain extent, make a decision to KNOW and more importantly to ACT as if they are not.

so the new thought loop could go something like: "I'm so fucking ugly. so what if I'm 'ugly'. it doesn't seem to matter when I look around and reality check my level of ugliness to the success and affection people uglier than I am seem to experience. there just be something else wrong with me. but that doesn't make sense because actually a lot of people do like me and care about me. i have proof of that in the form of messages and memories. I'm so fucking ugly. but I'm looking closely at this unfiltered Getty image in incredibly high resolution of a celebrity on the red carpet. and she has terrible skin. her skin looks just as bad as mine does in the brightly lit bathroom mirror because there are no filters on this brightly lit professional journalist's photograph. that's really interesting. i bet I can see the same level of ugliness in everyone else that I see in the mirror if I really look"

i don't think you can fix yourself to be not crazy. i don't think that's a thing that happens. i think most therapists are useless or MLM subscribers who want to try out their latest hype word MLM technique on your because they paid $3000 to be "certified" in Hidden Dream Cousin Interrogation Biodynamics, which will test 2% better than jingling keys in front of the control group in two papers on PubMed until crumbling to replication crisis in three years.

i think what you can actually do is add additional systems checks to deal with how fucking crazy you are and always will be until you stop being able to fuck up as much with it. like an airlock system basically. i think good therapists are able to show people how to do this and maybe get them meds that tamp down some of the nasty things the craziness constantly causes to happen. but they're so rare I've never actually met one lmao

#blog #sickposting

95 notes · View notes

versethetic · 8 months ago

Text

NOT PERFECT. JUST LOYAL.

i like to keep things real here so i tend to share my slight struggles with loa so that others who’ve gone through the same thing don’t beat themselves up over it.

but i’ve actually only fully understood what it means to live in imagination for a little while now;, and then put it to good use just a couple weeks ago.

despite knowing about the law for over a year…💀

OVER. A. YEAR…💀💀💀

even then, i got so caught up in making the images in my head perfect, or making sure i’m “saying the right affirmations" which obviously didn't help my case

i love reading loa posts because they make me feel nice and inspired and just remind me of my power but i somehow equated that as me overconsuming info and then i would spiral within my own head.

i would barely think of my desires as mine and when i did for only a day or two, i’d then turn around and believe that i wasn’t doing enough, that i need to affirm more or visualize for an hour and walk through every step of my day in my new perfect life or else it wouldn't manifest.

loyal according to merriam webster is "unswerving in allegiance"

all the way up until a couple weeks ago, i was not loyal to the idea that my imagination is all i need. i was not loyal to the idea that the 3d means absolutely nothing in terms of “getting” what you want, because there was nothing for me to get. now, i have become loyal to already having my perfect life.

i am that bitch. i am the prettiest princess. i am the smartest in school. i am the most famous. but i didn't need to have the perfect mindset with loa to realize it.

do you see where i’m going with this?

IMAGINATION IS ALL YOU NEED

granted, i had my days after this realization where i still struggled with techniques or accepting my new life as mine, but now i know that if i don’t identify with these things, it has not a single setback on my manifestations.

no matter what i was feeling, i told myself “i have it, my life is perfect, i am calm, i have it in imagination, the old senses are dead to me, i know what’s in my mind is the real truth”

when loa blogs say that you know you have it, it’s not some cheap trick they spew out because everyone else is saying it. if you imagine what you want, it’s officially set in stone. what you think comes to life.

the 3d is the afterimage, the product of a movie you directed, wrote, produced and starred in. you just need to stick with this fact through thick and thin, sleet or snow.

YOU are what the 3d answers to.

YOU are what the mirror reflects.

YOU decide how simple things are for you.

if you woke up and the old senses in front of your human eyes still show something you don’t like, are you gonna take that as a fact?

when you know and are loyal to the fact that your godly brain is showing you that devoted sp you have? that grand big mansion you live in? that whole new life you’re dwelling in?

NO. you’re not. think of you and you're 4d as BFFs who'll never separate, who tell each other everything and have those bff necklaces and go everywhere and do everything with each other. or imagine you're a ceo and your 4d is a loyal secretary who never asks questions and simply obeys whatever you tell it to do, because it trusts YOU. it works for YOU. however you wanna see it, you and your 4d are locked in 🔐🤞, okay? it is not separate from you, it does not seek guidance or information from anywhere other than YOU.

IT IS YOU.

and it took me a long time to see that.

it might be hard at first and the acceptance might not always be there. but i am making a conscious effort to at LEAST continuously tell myself that my imagination is all that matters. to at LEAST believe that what i want is already mine, and that’s the LEAST you can do as well.

your journey does not have to be perfect. your mindset does not have to be perfect. your feelings do not have to be perfect. mine definitely weren't. you just need to be loyal to your imagination.

#loa #law of assumption #loassumption #reality shifting #shifting #shifting realities #manifesting #manifestation #desired reality #verse diary

256 notes · View notes

updatingranboo · 1 year ago

Text

ranboo tweet... uh

["This was such a good joke and I am appalled by the fact that it has not gone absolutely bonkers viral. I mean is comedy dead? I just dont understand how a regular human being can read the word "Greans" (A combination of green and jeans) followed by an image of, well, green jeans, and not absolutely evacuate themselves in laughter.

I believe this has something to do with the fact that comedy as we know it is dying. It has become too mainstream in todays media and that is the main problem. Gone are the days where silly little guys in their silly little hop hats are able to go "knock knock" and absolutely change the world. Nowadays you have to have so many things that go into a joke for it to remotely even be funny, setup, punchline the whole ordeal. Whatever happened to just a simple Practicality joke? Whatever happened to just being able to slap someone and be the headlining act?

The world is so full of so called "comedians" these days it makes me sick. All these people do is spend hours writing and practicing their act in order to try and sway an audience to have a good time listening to their words. For SHAME! Comedy used to be just two people on a stage just slapping eachother and going "knock knock" for twenty hours. Whatever happened to the good ol days where people just laughed at whatever someone said because their brain hadnt fully developed?

This is why I believe that I am going to start performing my comedy acts to a bunch of babies. An absolute hoard of newborns. I will make my jokes to them and they will laugh for they truly understand what humor should be. I will go to a hospital in that little room they have where it is very easy to switch said babies and cause a bit of a ruckus, but instead of doing that (very funny joke) I will simply perform for them and relish in their cheers and guffaws.

It is sad that one has to turn to performing to just babies in order for the world to understand the complexity of ones said humor, but alas if its what I must do its what I must do. Maybe one day we will revert back to absolute comedy anarchy, where the chicken has not yet crossed the road, but until then I will continue to strive and push forward in this dark age of comedy.

Maybe a complete reset of what we find funny is in order, maybe we have lost what humor once was for us. We obviously have considering my VERY FUNNY TWEET does not have a bazillion likes and has not spun off at least 30 million movie deals. (Please note that this joke is satire, and Ranboo stands in solidarity with the SAG-AFTRA strikes. Support actors and writers. -A message from Ranboo)

I spent time and effort making this tweet, I saw the green jeans in front of my eyes (which are very squishy) and my neurons fired and made this absolute gem of a joke. I was excited to share it with the world, I tweeted it nearly right after I saw it, excited to see what new adventures this tweet could bring me. I went to bed all cozy smiling like a child on christmas eve night, excited for the morning. When I woke I turned to check my phone instantly, my eyes racing to see the like total. What would it be? 500k? A million? I was surprised that my dms hadnt blown up with a personal message from every billionaire going "let me give you all of my money I can never make anything as good as your "Greans" tweet" but It must have been a glitch.

I was appalled to see that my tweet had only 30K??? 30K for the pinnacle of all of human achievement? A slap in the face of innovation is what it felt like. Like when that thomas edison guy ate a stolen lightbulb or something idk what he did really but I remember the person who made that lightbulb which he ate probably felt really sad and I felt really sad so I felt a deep connection with that person.

I quickly fell into a great depression, this is what all of my life had lead up to: one sad tweet. I didnt see the outside for years because of this tweet. I thought to myself "why would they do this?", "Isnt humanity supposed to be kind, supportive, and have a sense of humor when it comes to differently colored jean jokes?" (dcjj as I call them), and "Man I should probably have a burger" (I did) (very yummy) but as I ate my burger all I could taste were my TEARS as I chomped into it from the top down. It felt like I couldnt do anything right. Until thats when it hit me.

Im not the problem, EVERYONE ELSE IS! My humor isnt "bad" or "unfunny" or "makes me want to find a microwave and cause it to malfunction so I either become the hulk or die" (Please do not try this. -Another Ranboo message) It has to be that simply I am so far ahead in the world when it comes to comedy that my time has simply just not yet come! My jokes will be funny to a different generation, which will be frowned upon at first but I will quickly be welcomed with open arms, and told that I am an innovator, a true scholar of all that is funny.

And so I wait for that day. I wait for the day that people look back on my Greans tweet and realize, that without a doubt that it is the funniest thing that they have ever seen. The problem is not with my joke, the problem is with the world, and thats what makes humanity beautiful, is that it evolves, it changes, it doesnt stick to its mindset that a tweet that has the word "Greans" followed by a pair of green jeans doesnt get a BAZILLION LIKES! I wait for that day, and for those of you who are with me, I hope you wait patiently as well. Stay strong."]

#this is how i found out tumblr has a character limit per block #well. have fun reading #i sure did #ranboo #ranboo update #twitter update #ranboosaysstuff tweet

460 notes · View notes

toomuchracket · 11 months ago

Text

home for christmas (d word matty x reader fluff)

another christmas75 fic! pre-dating, but only just. it'll make sense when you read it lmfao. also i love this pic of matty literally god bless jack antonoff. enjoy <3

practically jamming his knuckle into his eye in an effort to wake himself up, matty slowly drags his suitcase out of the lift. he brightens up a bit when he sees you in the lobby - well, sees your tiny face, looking as sleepy as his own, poking out between the fabric of your beanie and hoodie and floor-length puffer jacket. as he gets closer to you, his heart skips when you smile sweetly at him, and it's all he can do to stop his legs copying it.

he manages to keep his cool, though, plopping down on the sofa next to you and matching your smile. “morning. you feeling a bit chilly, darling?”

“ha ha,” you roll your eyes, deadpan, and matty giggles. “you haven't been anywhere without central heating yet. s'fucking freezing outside.”

“why were you out?”

you lean forward to lift a takeout drinks holder matty hadn't noticed on the coffee table. “to get these.”

“oh. thanks,” matty takes his cup from you, slightly crestfallen. “i thought we were going to go on the coffee run together, though?”

shrugging, your face contorts into a bashful smile that wipes every other thought out of matty's head. “didn't want you to get cold. and i figured you'd be tired after the show last night, so not making you wait for coffee was a good idea. oh, also,” you rifle through your jacket pocket and procure two sugar packets. “there you go.”

“thank you, darling,” matty squeezes your hand as he takes the sugar. “god, you really are freezing. i almost feel bad that you went out in the cold to get this.”

“almost?!” you roll your eyes again, but the smile - that fucking smile, the one that's had matty wrapped around your finger since the day you met - doesn't leave your cold face. “i'm waking you up to come with me next time, for that. you almost feel bad. christ.”

“do it,” matty smirks. “i think i'd be much more agreeable if i woke up to your face, actually.”

he isn’t lying. ever since he had that dream about falling asleep spooning you last month, waking up to a bed without you in it has been dreadful. mornings like these where you're the first person he sees are lovely, of course, but matty thinks he won't truly be happy in the morning unless he wakes up to your face burrowed into his chest and his lips on your head.

judging by the way your eyes and smile both widen almost imperceptibly - he notices, though, of course he does - matty thinks you might actually want that too. and, frankly, he's glad he's sitting down: that realisation would've swiped the legs from under him, otherwise.

your snark back at him is also suggestive of your mutual (!!!) crush. “well, in that case… i might have to request two keys for your hotel rooms on the uk leg. are you agreeable to that?”

fuck me, matty thinks; whether that's an exclamation or a request, he isn't sure. both, probably. he takes a sip of his coffee, then clears his throat and prays his voice doesn't wobble and give him away. “quite.”

“well, we'll see how long that lasts,” you giggle, and matty wishes he could bottle the sound. “given that i've been thinking about taking up running in the new year, and i'll force you to come with me.”

matty snorts. “you won't.”

“too fucking right i will, matty. if i'm doing it, you - as my designated coffee run companion - are too.”

“no, i mean you won't take up running, darling.”

you frown. adorably. “why not?”

“it's just so not you,” matty giggles. “why'd you even want to do it?”

your upper lip snags as you shrug. “just feel like i'm not doing enough cardio at the minute.”

“right,” matty does his best to keep his voice and face neutral despite his stupid fucking horny brain firing off images of you and him doing a different sort of cardio. get it together, healy, you arsehole. “i don't think running's the way to go for you, though, babe.”

“probably,” you ponder. “maybe swimming, instead, then.”

great. now he's thinking about you in a swimsuit, hair soaked and slicked back, water dripping down your body as you exit the pool like a fucking bond girl and make your way over to him and-

christ, what is going on with him today? he needs a distraction. something. anything. aha. “wait a minute. are you drinking an iced coffee?”

“mhmm,” you take a long drink of said coffee, as nonchalantly as matty’s ever seen you.

“but… darling, it's december,” matty splutters. “you can't just have a normal latte?”

“nah. s'too hot.”

“eh?”

you shuffle round to face him, leaning on your arm. “you know how you aren't meant to put freezing hands under hot water to warm them up? it's too shocking to the skin or whatever?”

matty squints. “yeeeeees?”

“well, that. if your drink’s too hot and you're too cold, it's too shocking to your insides.”

“i've genuinely never heard anyone say that before.”

“s'pose i'm one of a kind, then,” you grin.

in a tone far too soft for the conversation, matty replies. “yeah, you are, darling.”

“you're too sweet,” you beam, putting down your coffee and holding a hand out to him.

matty takes it eagerly, eyes widening when his skin makes contact with yours. “and you're like actual ice! jesus, babe,” he reaches for the other hand, holding them both tightly in his own to warm them up. “thank god i'm here.”

you laugh loudly, collapsing into a full fit of the giggles when matty overexaggeratedly blows on your hands to make them even warmer; when the giggles fade into soft hums, you look at him with such tenderness that he almost has to look away. “m'gonna miss hanging out with you every day, you know.”

the words are like a flaming arrow to matty’s heart - the reminder you're going separate ways (albeit temporarily) is piercing, but the revelation of your affection towards him sets every nerve ending in his body alight with joy. “me too, darling. and i can't believe we're not getting on the same flight home today, either. m'gutted. you're the only person who doesn't stress me out on planes.”

you turn your intertwined hands over so you can gently rub the back of matty's with your thumb. “i know. but it just made sense for me not to fly into london - saves me getting an extra train back to my mum's, or driving. speaking of, when are you going up north?”

“christmas eve. driving back down to mine on the 27th.”

“i'm heading back to my flat that day, too,” you nod thoughtfully, then your face brightens. “d'you want to do a coffee run on the 28th, then? i'll get the train up to you. and i'll bring your christmas present.”

the relief that washes over matty's body upon confirming when he'll next see you is so strong it's almost embarrassing. he nods enthusiastically. “as long as you don't mean an actual run, then yeah.”

“thought we'd decided running wasn't for me?”

“oh, that's right. well, in that case,” matty grins. “see you on the 28th, then.”

“fab. and then… you're going to g's at new year, yeah?”

matty nods. “and you're NOT! traitor.”

“oh, shut up. i can't let the girls down, i haven't seen them in months,” you roll your eyes. “but i'll pop down for a bit after i've been out, definitely,” your face turns serious, and you look down at the tiled floor. “um, matty, can i ask you a question? you don't have to tell me, but… i want to ask. just to, like, make sure we're sort of on the same page.”

matty shuffles in his seat to look at you properly, a cocktail of curiosity and apprehension mixing itself in his stomach. “of course, darling. you ok?”

“yeah! i'm fine, i just,” you sigh, and tentatively meet his gaze. “i was wondering if you're taking anyone to the new year's party.”

oh.

you're asking him if he likes you. like, like likes you.

this is good. no, actually - this is great. possibly even… perfect. because, obviously, he does. he really, really does.

fuck.

matty opens his mouth to talk, but you continue babbling nervously. “i'm sorry if that was out of line, and you don't have to answer at all, like i said, i just wanted to make sure i wasn't misreading the situation but if i am then i'm so sorry and we can just forg-”

“no, no, it's alright, darling, really,” matty says, squeezing your hand. “no lines crossed, no pages jumped, no misreading. i'm not taking anyone to the party, no. just me and a bottle - well, three - of wine.”

you exhale, cheeks lifting into a relieved smile. “ok. good. thank you.”

“s'no problem, darling. and, just to clarify,” matty smiles in return. “are you bringing anybody with you?”

you shake your head. “just me. won't even have any wine. i'll have cigs, though.”

matty giggles, fighting the urge to kick his legs back and forth when you join in too. “well, looks like we'll just have to hang about with each other, then, yeah? can't have a drink and not smoke, no chance.”

you wink. his body feels like it's taking a screenshot. “see you there, then, healy.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #christmas75 #d word matty #matty healy fanfic #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty x reader

180 notes · View notes

oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse · 2 years ago

Text

Emotions sequel to Lust

Sebastian Sallow x f!Reader

Summary - Anon request for "I will give you my soul and both kidneys for more Sebastian smut 🥲🙏🏻 The day he calls me a “good girl”, I can die peacefully 😂"

Word Count - 1,736

Warnings - 18 + smut, characters aged up, dark!Sebastian, angst, slightly non-consenual consent scenario

A/N - I can die peacefully 😂" okay i messed myself up writing this one 🔥🔥

Sebastian felt the guilt and anger building up now that he felt sober, there were battling it out in his gut. He felt guilty about his intentions behind the potion, but at the same time he still felt angry that that was what it took. Angry at himself for not being more forward and angry at you for the same.

Your legs were relaxed around him as he layed on top of you, you forced him to look at you, "What is it Sebastian?" Your voice was soft and tired.

He sucked in his bottom lip and had a hard time making eye contact, "The potion. I - I crafted it for you and got too wasted and drank it myself."

In your post-sex brain it took you a few moments to process what it was he had just said. You felt the wind get knocked out of you and you felt completely betrayed. You let him make you vulnerable and it was all basically a lie.

You sat up quickly, shoving him off of you and clutching the bed sheets to your chest, not caring that his cum was getting all over it.

"No, Y/N, wait," he grabbed your first as you attempted to get away, but he tugged you to keep you in place.

"I still - I still wanted this. I know you did too. Merlin, you come here every day and it's all I can do not to ravish you. You walk across town like that every morning for me." You could see the arousal returning to his face. He was all pupils and flushed cheeks.

You tore your arm from his grip and stood up with tears dampening your eyes, "Then why didn't you ever? Why use some stupid position, trying to take advantage like that? I am a person Sebastian. In case you haven't noticed I'm the only one you've had for a long time."

Your voice was bitter as you left the room to scavenge for a new set of clothing and clean up the mess that you were. You couldn't decide if you were mad, hurt, scared, or all of the above. The saddest part was it's not like you couldn't have guesses the whole thing was a setup on his part. And you just stupidly fell right for it.

You collected yourself in a hurry and rushed out back to where you lodged with Sirona. You didn't want to think about Sebastian or be near him or talk about any of it.

You woke up the next morning after having spent a long day battling with yourself over what had happened. At this point you honestly hoped things would shift back to the normal they had been, where he's just busy drinking and leaving you alone. If you were being honest, that probably started the second that you left and he wouldn't even remember what happened.

So, you decided to approach the day like normal. You did take a second look at the reflection of yourself in your mirror before stepping out though. He is still a man, not an animal, he had seen other women in his life in sleeping clothes and not acted like it was anything to blush at.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on who asked, Sebastian had layed in his bed for the rest of the day without a drop of alcohol. He felt like he was losing his mind because he couldn't stop thinking about you. He felt like a 13 year old boy again, rubbing one out every hour as images of you flashed through his mind. But the images were certainly not as innocent as they used to be.

You seemed so upset with him, but you weren't complaining at all as he dragged you around the house, tearing through your clothes and ravaging your body. You weren't the innocent player you thought yourself to be and he refused to accept it.

You said to him that he should have made a move and just been up front from the start, so that's what he was going to do. He was going to unleash his deepest, darkest desires on you.

He slept restlessly that night with his new plan in mind unable to focus on anything else. He had never craved someone in the way he craved you and after having had a taste with you, he was ruined without you.

He knew Sirona always let you stay at her home she kept here and it wasn't hard to find. It was always possible to find out someone's business here if you wanted to.

He rose early in the morning, probably way earlier than he'd been awake in months if not years. He knew you always came to him just before the sun started coming up so that it would be light by the time you did make it.

Everything in Feldcroft was spread out and people liked their space. Sebastian's home was located on a reasonable little plot of land that offered privacy with the wild shrubbery and trees taking root wherever they pleased.

He decided that he would wait for you in a private spot at the front of the property. He had taken to cleaning himself up and putting on simple thin night clothes just so nobody found him wandering around indecent if they were snooping.

An old oak with a thick base was where he waited for you, it was just private enough for his dirty thoughts.

You were sleepy walking up to the familiar scene before you and that's how you got taken off guard. A hand came down over your mouth and you had no time to react before being carried off with someone pressed against your backside.

You felt the rough bark of the tree as Sebstian pressed you up against it, rubbing himself against your backside and talking low into your ear, "I told you you were begging for it coming over like that. This is what you wanted from me right?"

He bunched up the skirt of your gown and wasted no time dipping his hand between your thighs causing you to cry out in surprise.

"I see you didn't change anything. There's still nothing beneath here but a needy cunt," he used his fingers to spread your lips and your vagina open, betraying you with wetness, "see? You're much too empty, there's a leak we have to do something about."

He pulled his hand back to spit on it before not-so-delicately applying pressure to your clit. His other hand had remained clamped to your mouth so you hadn't had the chance to say a word, but he whispered to you as he removed it, "You're going to be a good girl for me and be quiet right? You don't need everyone to know you're letting the town disgrace fuck you."

Your breathing was heavy as he removed his hand you drew blood from your lip biting it and trying to stay quiet. He let you rest for just a moment while he used both hands to pull the dress over your head discarded it on the ground.

You whimpered when he continued his assault on your sensitive spot, being unable to deny how good it felt and how turned on you were. He placed kisses on the soft skin of your neck before he took a good look at your full exposed figure.

He inhaled sharply, "Fuck, everything about you is perfect. And you're all mine out here, so exposed and engulfed in the pleasure of it."

You felt a bit ashamed at how close you were to the brink of an orgasm, but couldn't stop yourself from begging quietly, "Sebsatian, please don't stop. Please - "

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder and everything felt like it was too much; the rough bark on the tree, the pleasurable pain of his bite, the white hot feeling bubbling over form his rough finger tips.

Sebastian pulled you into his body, away from the tree as he clamped a hand over your mouth to cover your cries of ecstasy. You fell apart on him whether you wanted to or not, eyes squeezed shut tightly while he holds you close enough to force you to feel his solid cock.

"That's right, just like that. So quick for me today, you understand the urgency since the sun's about to come up right? You can't let anyone see you like this."

He let go of you and you stumbled forward, catching yourself on the tree to find steady ground. Sebastian wasted no time pulling his pants down to start stroking his swollen cock, wrapping a hand around his balls and squeezing them.

"Would you prefer to my balls slapping against your ass with every thrust or do you want to look at me while I ruin you."

You sheepishly turned around to meet the wet sounds of him jerking off. His cock was red and swollen and you couldn't keep your eyes off of it every time he pulled towards himself and the head peaked out of his foreskin.

He approached you and squeeze your backside, indicating for you to jump so he could pick you up and fit impale you between himself and the tree.

You wrapped your legs around him and he kept his eyes glued to your face the whole time he rubbed himself across your entrance. He entered you slowly at first, shuddering at the sensation of how good you felt.

"I love you, Y/N," his words were low and husky before he crashed his lips into yours with desperation and started fucking you at a much more aggressive pace.

You could feel him stretching you out and his pelvis was bumping against your still sensitive clit with every buck of his hips. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and you met his lips, tongue, and teeth mirroring his intense desire.

"F-fuck, Y/N,"

"Cum for me Sebastian, please," you whined, "finish making me yours,"

"I - I'm close - just for you. You're such a good girl, such a good little hole," with that he finished inside of you, fucking you until he couldn't catch his breath.

He rested his cheek against your shoulder as he continued to hold you up against him.

"That's what you wanted right? I told you I couldn't stand it anymore. So I took you."

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x oc

1K notes · View notes

andreafmn · 2 months ago

Text

Collision | Chapter 29

Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: bodily harm, self inflicted wounds, mentions of blood

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: um, I am so sorry for the trauma this chapter may cause 🫣 strap in, girlies. share it with everyone, if there is a chapter of this story you should read, it's this one

<- Previous | Next ->

Confusion overtook (Y/N) when she woke the next morning, the sun still hanging low in the horizon. The walls around her were foreign, the smells were overwhelming, the temperature was uncomfortable. She wasn’t home, and her body knew it.

She stretched the knots from her body, shaking off the sleep that had wound itself in her joints. Yet, as much as she wanted to remain in the soft and warm bed, she knew the task at hand had to be done as soon as possible. She wanted it to be done as soon as possible.

The longer (Y/N) spent away from LaPush and Forks, the more her mind ruminated on her past. Images of her time with the Cullens bombarded her brain, reminding her of a life lived and lost. It made her heart ache and yearn—something she thought she had moved on from. It made her think of forgiveness, of reconciliation, of regression. She felt her judgment was held hostage and everything she had strived for was going down the drain.

Without giving it much thought, she got up from the bed and got ready, packing everything she brought back up. She wasn’t going to spend a second more in New York than she had to. Her goal was to get Carlisle back to Washington and then go home. That was her plan, and she would do nothing to stray from it.

Esme and Theo were already waiting when she came downstairs, talking in hushed tones until she was in their presence. Their conversation halted as she joined them, and they gifted her warm smiles.

“How’d you sleep?” Theo asked. “Haven’t slept in centuries, but those mattresses are great, huh.”

“Yeah, no, they’re amazing. Definitely not a mattress I could afford,” the girl commented, unsure as to why she had. “But, uh, we should get going. Got a long ride ahead of us.”

“Of course,” Esme smiled as she grabbed their bags. “You can eat your breakfast in the car, and just let us know if we need to make a stop.”

“Sure thing.”

“Let’s do this, then.”

The car ride went by faster than (Y/N) thought it would. Mostly because somewhere along the three-hour ride and the mindless conversation, she had drifted off to sleep. She couldn’t recall when her eyes had closed, but she awoke with a startle when the car rolled to a stop a couple of miles away from the parking lot of the Panama Rocks Scenic Park, deep enough in the forest. Her neck was tight, and her mouth felt dry, but once she saw the green and the grey mingling in an almost endless void, she knew her trip back home was closer than when the day had started.

The park was still closed to the public, and they needed to keep their presence hidden from any onlookers. There wasn’t a way to explain to people why three women were sneaking into the place, much less why Teo of them were glittering under the sun. Though they could have hidden better during the darkness of the night, (Y/N) didn’t have the supernatural ability to see well in the night, and flashlights would definitely give them away.

“Okay, I have a vague idea where Carlisle might be,” Theo said as she pulled a map of the area out. “If he wanted to be ironically poetic, he’d be in the caves in Devil’s Den, but that’s part of the more trafficked area, so I don’t think he would. To be as far away from civilization as he could here, I think he’d settle somewhere along the center—up sixty-foot rock formations.”

“Well, I don’t think my boots are good for a hike like that,” (Y/N) blurted. “It’s going to take me days to check everywhere, and I’m not good at climbing.”

“There is a way we could scavenge the area in maybe an hour or a bit more,” Esme added. “Theo and I can run through, pinpoint his location by his scent, and then carry you there. That way, you won’t have to overexert yourself, and we can get you home as soon as possible.”

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“You’d stay with the car,” Theo said. “Be on the lookout for anyone that might come around. And if you have to, move the car away. We won’t take that long, I hope.”

“Great,” the girl muttered as she slumped onto the driver’s seat. “Guess I’ll just wait here, then.”

“You’ll be safer this way, (Y/N),” her friend offered. “The last thing you want is to be clinging onto me for dear life as we run and jump unnatural lengths. You need to save your strength for whatever is to come, okay?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she smiled softly. “I’m being prissy for no reason.”

“It’s okay to be nervous, you know. You’re literally going through a one-in-a-billion situation here, (Y/N). I honestly don’t know how you’re here, but you're still standing. You’re the best of us all.”

“I just can’t stand by while so many people keep hurting,” (Y/N) muttered. “Not anymore. There can’t be any more hate in my heart. I don’t like what it did to me.”

“There could never be anything that could ever dampen your light, (Y/N),” Theo said. “You are one of a kind, and everyone you meet knows it. Those who say they don’t are just lying.”

“Thank you, Theo,” she smiled as warmth spread through her cheeks. “Now, go. I’m not getting any younger here.”

“Lock the doors. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

The vampires disappeared from her sight in the blink of an eye, leaving her alone in the middle of the woods with nothing but the bags and the car to keep her company. She scrolled through the texts on her phone for a while, skipping through message after message of both Sam and Paul. They were begging her to come back home, apologizing for their outburst and their actions, pleading she at least give them a call back.

But she was angry. Not just at them, but at the entire situation. (Y/N) could understand their reason for what they did—her logical mind would not allow her not to see their side of things. They had been tasked with the extraordinary job of protecting the people of LaPush from vampires, stopping anything they deemed a threat to the reservation. They didn’t have a rulebook or many directions on how to fulfill their duties, and they were doing what they thought was best with what little knowledge they had.

Yet, she couldn’t understand why they would think they had any right to meddle in her life and sever ties with people she loved. It was one thing to think that she could be in danger because of the scent of a vampire, but it was another for them to destroy letters from her friend even when she didn’t know the supernatural existed. In their minds, they were protecting her, but the truth was they were cutting her off from the world—from the one person that had made her feel seen in a sea of blue and grey. They had decided (Y/N) would become a nobody in Theo’s life, leaving her wondering for the rest of her life what she had done wrong.

There weren’t many people she had ever connected with in her life—not in a deep and meaningful way. Of course, she had grown up surrounded by people who had loved and cared for her, but she always felt like there was a role she had to fulfill. She had to be strong, she had to be calm, she had to be the smartest in the room, and she was each and every thing people expected because everyone did.

Well, Sam had always seen her as more than intelligent. He’d seen her as his little sister, the girl he had sworn silently to always protect. Even if somewhere along the way, his lines had blurred, and his protections had turned into rules and demands, he had always tried to keep her safe. He could have cared less about the accolades and the academics. Sam simply wanted her happy. At least, for some time, that was all he had cared about.

There had also been Paul, of course. He didn’t care how smart she was or what had happened in her past. He had just wanted a friend. When he had felt the loneliest after the move to LaPush, she had appeared like an answer to a prayer, tripping in front of him with a stack of books from the library that she was taking home. After that fateful day, he had become her shadow while he found his footing in the reservation. And when he gained popularity amongst their peers, he took her under his wing and protected her from anyone that attempted to harm her. Paul had cared enough to see past the surface that everyone admired and had been interested to learn about the girl past the books and the absent dad.

Once (Y/N) had left for Greenfield and was alone again, she didn’t think she’d find someone like him. Someone who wouldn’t care about what she could do but who she was. And then she had found Theo—or Theo had found her. She had changed the trajectory of the girl’s life, helping her down the path of academic excellence and confident living. After Theo, she believed there was nothing she couldn’t do. As long as she invested her time wisely and stopped listening to what others thought, she would be capable of anything.

And, of course, there had been Carlisle. The man who had been able to transform the very fibers of her essence. The man who had not only seen her soul but also her heart. He had shown her all the things she hadn’t known she desired; he made her believe in a life she thought she deserved. What happened at the end… well, the jury was still out on that.

Finally, after a long bout of darkness and pain, Eden had come along. He’d been distant at first, being short and cold with her. But the second the gears had changed, and he saw her truly, he had been a breath of fresh air she didn’t know she needed. Eden was kind and patient, wise beyond his years and understanding. Somehow, he had begun to make her excited to meet someone new. She saw potential in him. She saw possible l…

As she debated getting on the phone and calling him, Theo’s sudden apparition startled the phone out of her hands. “We’ve found him,” she exclaimed. “We’ve finally found him.”

(Y/N) hadn’t noticed that she had let her mind wander for close to two hours. She had fallen down a thought spiral she would not have come out of had it not been for Theodora. The girl jumped out of the car, shaking away the shivers that started running through her veins. This was it. After almost eight months without him, she was about to face Carlisle once more—to save him and bring him home. “How do we do this?” she asked her friend, her voice trembling slightly under her nerves. “Do I just…?”

“Get on my back, (Y/N),” Theo chuckled. “And grab on really tight.”

Running wasn’t an activity (Y/N) partook in very often. As much as she wanted to incorporate the training into her daily life, it was too time-consuming for her already packed schedule. Now, speeding through trees and rock formations while clinging to the back of a vampire at a hundred miles an hour was not what she envisioned for a light run. The cold air of the morning bit at her skin alongside the branches that tried to snag her. Theo did avoid getting her hurt, but just the feeling of leaves smacking against her face was enough to have the girl thinking she’d been wounded.

What had felt like hours to her, where she prayed silently that her strength was enough to keep herself on Theo, had only been a few minutes. The vampire came to a stop at a particularly odd boulder that stood at a little over sixty feet of height and over twenty feet of width from what she could tell. The rocks seemed to mold into each other, creating the illusion of various black holes forming into its sediment. Even in the light of day, it looked tenebrous. The last thing anyone would say of the area was inviting.

“He is not well,” Esme said as she joined them, jumping out from one of the caves. “Wouldn’t even respond to me. No matter what I said, he just stared at the wall. (Y/N)…”

“I know,” the girl sighed defeatedly. “I’m the only one that he will answer to. I can… I can do it.”

“I was going to say you should be careful,” she replied. “We will be just a few feet away, but he’s still stronger and faster than us. Keep your distance.”

“Oh,” (Y/N) muttered in surprise. “I will. Thank you, Esme.”

“Of course,” the woman smiled. “Just give a shout if you need us.”

“Will do.”

“Alright, then,” Theo said. “Back on.”

Theodora went a couple of yards back for a running start, kicking off the ground with a force (Y/N) had never witnessed. As they raised through the air, the girl’s fingers dug into her friend’s shirt, hiding her face in the crook of her neck to avoid looking down. They landed with a soft thud at the entrance of the cave, the heel of her boots echoing through the hollow space.

“Don’t get too close, okay?” Theo worried as she handed (Y/N) a flashlight. “Yell if you need us. And if you can’t, snap your fingers three times.”

“I thought Carlisle had unnatural resistance,” (Y/N) muttered, concern sinking into her veins. “Do you think he would really attack me?”

“He hasn’t fed correctly in far too long,” Esme sighed. “He has always been the strongest out of anyone I know, but paired with heartbreak… well, I just couldn’t tell you what he’s capable of.”

(Y/N) trembled at the thought of what awaited her. A voice in her head told her to turn around and say she wouldn’t help any longer. A voice warned her of the strength and unpredictability she could face. Yet, she couldn’t listen—not when her heart told her to keep moving her feet, one in front of the other. With shaky hands, she pointed the flashlight ahead of her, ignoring the smell of humidity and the cold eeriness that threatened to overtake her.

The girl knew Carlisle had not fed in some time. She also knew what vampires could look like after a prolonged time without blood. But nothing could prepare her from coming face to face with the shell of who her first love used to be.

Sitting against the cave’s walls, Carlisle stared into nothingness. His eyes were as black as coal, his cheekbones had sunken, and the bags under his eyes battled to take over the rest of his face. Long gone was the beautiful marble white of his skin, replaced instead with a putrid gray color. His hair had lost all life, flopping against his dampened skin in matted clumps. The man didn’t even care a drip had settled just above him, falling tauntingly on his head, over and over and over again.

Had (Y/N) not known if he was standing before her that he was alive, she would have been certain she was staring at a terrifying replica of Carlisle. He simply sat, unmoving, unblinking, unresponsive.

(Y/N) tried to speak, but the words seemed to get stuck in her mouth, tasting of bile and rancidness. They scratched the walls of her throat as though he had willed her not to mutter a single sound. Carlisle didn’t want to hear it. Carlisle couldn’t hear it.

But if one thing was clear to the girl, it was that he had to leave the cave. He needed to.

“C-Carlisle?” she managed to croak. His head snapped toward the sound of her voice, and she could have sworn that his neck had cracked like a dry hinge. His dark eyes bore into hers, analyzing the image in front of him. “It’s me, Carlisle. It’s (Y/N). I’ve come to take you home. ”

She wasn’t expecting a triumphant reunion. With all their unresolved feelings, she had prepared herself for a stern talk and flight back home. Instead, Carlisle had jumped from the place he seemed permanently planted in and sped toward her. His hand circled her throat as he pressed her against the cavern’s wall. The rock scratched at her skin through her shirt, and she had to stand on her tiptoes to keep him from being her only support.

“Is this where my delusions have driven me? You’re not real!” he laughed manically. “(Y/N) would never come to take me home. ME! After what I did to her, she would be more than happy to let me rot! I will say, brain, you were far more creative the last time.”

This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. The crazed look in his eyes told her just how much he’d been suffering on his own, punishing himself for a situation he had not known how to handle. “Carlisle, it’s really me,” she muttered, straining against his hand. “Feel my heartbeat. I’m right here. I want to get you home.”

“I’ve felt and heard your heartbeat a million times. Do you really think you could fool me? ME?! AGAIN?! No. YOU CAN’T FOOL ME!” he continued. His eyes stared at her but could have been looking through her. Yet, something told her as strong as he wanted to appear, had he been human, tears would be streaming down his face. He wasn’t well. He wasn’t Carlisle. “Months and months of the same apparition. This is my way of the cross. I am cursed to live with the memory of the one person I regret ever breaking—the only person who will ever have my heart. You come, and you go; you hurt, and you save; you laugh, and you cry. And I can take it. I can take it all. But not this. Don’t talk about home. There is no home for me. For my home is only where I burnt my own heart to the ground. I torched the thread that held me together to my one reason for being. If God has ever forsaken me, it has been at this moment. If God had ever wanted to punish the abomination that I am, it is now. Don’t talk to me about home.”

Carlisle’s ramblings were nonsensical, but the threat around (Y/N)’s throat was very real. Without meaning to, the man cemented his every word by closing his hand just a little bit closer and closer. She tried to scratch at his arm, meeting the same hard skin she knew—unbreakable. “Car-li-sle,” she croaked. “Stop. It’s me.”

“STOP! SHE’S NOT HERE!” His anger rained upon her as he slammed a fist next to her, making shards of the cave scatter around them. “You’re not real. YOU’RE NOT REAL!”

He muttered the phrase over and over like a mantra as though he was trying to keep himself sane. But he had lost his sanity months before. He’d grown restless and delusional quickly, berating himself for everything he had and had not done. Carlisle blamed himself for the brokenness of his family, but most of all, he promised himself eternal damnation for letting go of (Y/N) in the most horrid way he could muster. He had not physically killed her, but he had done the second worst thing.

A jagged piece of quartz grabbed (Y/N)’s attention then. It had landed perfectly at arm’s reach. She could feel her vision growing spotty from the lack of oxygen, but she couldn’t call the girls just yet—not until Carlisle had snapped back into reality.

She struggled against his grip slightly, reaching for the crystal, feeling its edge cut slightly into her palm. “If you don’t think I’m real, then you won’t care if I’m hurt,” she whispered. Carlisle watched with a look of concern as she raised the quartz to her wrist. “Come back, Carlisle. Come home.”

Without thinking twice, (Y/N) ran the sharpest point of the quartz down her arm, flinching as blood pooled on her skin. Putting all trust in the vampires, the girl let the crystal fall to the ground and snapped her fingers three times. She mustered all the love and care she could in a simple gaze and stared into Carlisle’s black eyes as she raised her bloody hand onto his cheek and smiled.

Then, it all went black.

Next ->

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writingIf you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click hereMake sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

Taglist: @winter-soldier-101@zheezs14 @a-sifu-hotman @sunflowerleii@dyslexiccatterpillar @blackbluerose666 @slutforsainz @kortniec696 @xcastawayherosx@minhaimaginacao @bluebirbnamedjay @sirenheadenby @andreiaafaria @bluetreecloud20@sunshine2894 @valejewel @mushroomelephant @swidkid @skyesthebomb@esposadomd @nocturnalherb16

@nogitsune-the @user0ur0mom @cometstail @sugajar @lovel-blog @616wilsons @lunaOoO @senjuhotaru @princesshearts18 @byelannie

@avis15@wonieeee@baebeepeach@krazyk99@catgirlpwr@klf1999@sl-ut@adaydreamaway08@cinffy23@toomanythoughts33 @laylaskywalker @fandomonetwo @fruitylilfuck @a-slut-for-loki-bucky @honeywxter @haroldpotterson@kaita11 @gangstalicious06 @uwunuggetchan@elijahssuit @multifandomreader73 @ellabellabus07@blackloveangel13@euphoria1992@saltedcoffeescotch@lowkeysaurus@zealouscookierebeltrash@sleepilysworld@laylasbunbunny @american-sataness @cevans-winchester@avada-kedavra-bitch-187@jstarr86 @coquita @ilikepunsbeth @itsmytimetodream @laury-blackbeak @unstablekay@midnightmisses@magical-spit @ratsys @hopexargent @druigsluver29 @fresita1218

@chaoticthingpizza @cecehensonn @thatgirljayy @f4irylure @thedeadpo3t @monbrss @revnamjinn @bibella8swan @integalacticspacemonkey @marshmallowgem

@catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @daniallh @lis-likes-fics @agent-anna @blightwulf @mauvette268 @marvelatthetwilight @beefwhobarksandisalilmadalot @juniper-a @jules-bea2308 @comic-book-overload

@unicornicopia1 @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @mysingularitybts @wonnou @greyeyedmockingbird

@nessaasstuff @simon-e-mallory @urmomsfav-stuff @evattude @the-irish-princess @heartfilia01 @jinxxangel13 @rinalouu @haikyuuswhore @arcaurix @cheshirecat484 @bloobewy @pinkrockstar19

@lainlovelain @tsunchani @purplehrts7 @jjpogueprincess @yeehawgiddyup13 @capswife @divergentalwaysandforever-blog @renarouge0415 @luxurvitae

36 notes · View notes

beesmygod · 7 months ago

Text

today is webcomics day. i am bea and i make "A Ghost Story" - part 1: pre-gaming

webcomic day is a yearly celebration of the art form concocted by the screentones podcast team as a way for people to see how the sausage gets made. my webcomic "a ghost story" has been running for over 10 years, and yet i still don't think i can say i am good at making a webcomic. regardless, the comic is getting made because otherwise i become very, very sick in the head. today i would like to share with you the process of making a page of "A Ghost Story" from start to finish. either this demystifies the process or will make you think im so cool and strong for doing this 2x a week. instead of reblogging this one post until it gets very long, i will be posting individual updates that i will then compile and post on my personal website. block the tags now if you HATE comics and want them to EXPLODE.

if you have any questions, even things like "what the fuck are you even talking about" feel free to ask. i want to feel confident in what i make again and i think sometimes interrogation from an outside source is really

---

that said, let's get started. wait just kidding i want a cup of coffee first, hold on.

ok now im ready. i have a big glass of water. i have coffee. i have a headset for the parts of work that don't involve typing words. i can't type words and listen to some streamer babble in my ear at the same time, so it has to be instrumental music or nothing. i just took my meds so they should kick in after about 30 mins. i woke up late today, which is weird and annoying. but maybe i can work late instead.

first off, i need to know where i'm going beyond this one page. if i dont know where im going with something, then i usually create something that sucks that i have to deal with later. hold on my internet died, i have to reset the router. ok, anyway.

what's rattling around in my brain is that not only do i have to deal with maxine's current predicament, i am also dealing with multiple plot elements i need to wrap back around to from the previous chapter. luckily, im about to put maxine down for a nap, which means i can get back to those other elements:

i need to finish the exposition from the three ankou characters for this story arc establishing their motivations as the oppositional force in the story. the "villain" is not these three specifically, but their boss. they need to have a loose understanding of what's going on in order to communicate this to the audience. god this started turning into a huge ass paragraph so i'll just keep it short there.

we've jumped back to before jack's horrible day from the first chapter of this storyline so we have to make our way back toward that and then lapping it, which means wrapping up his various open threads like:

feeding victoria and learning something new about her

finding out alice is a very exceptional employee who is getting many awards

watching valdo call lily while interrupting her during something personal to ask her for help with maxine's situation.

jack meeting with valdo and lily the day after they first met so jack can just tell them straight up that lily has 4 sisters she doesnt know about.

help that girl with her poltergeist problem. remember that. i've had jokes for this rattling in my head for like 4 years. im going insane.

and also the fucking tilberi!!! that has a point its going somewhere!!! there's a larger menace here!!!

other things to set up the climax of this storyline. sexual tensions, hints at larger emotional problems not immediately evident to the reader

lots of moving parts. and i feel like im moving in slow motion to get to them. i can see them all weaving together in my head, its the process of putting that onto paper that's proving difficult.

ok that took an hour starting and stopping. -_- let me write the next part as i keep brainstorming on how to approach this page. taking a "rubber duck" approach to this might help. heres an image from the last page i worked on (i have a 5 page buffer rn so the site does not match the finished pages) to get us semi-situated.

also because images will help people understand what skill level we're working with here. i need to be able to communicate an idea to the audience; if the art also looks good on top of that, then that's just an added bonus. but the ability to communicate my ideas is sometimes hampered by my lack of artistic skill or comics language ineptitude. like those speech bubbles kind of fucking suck but at a certain point you have to just hit print on what you're working on in order to keep your already glacial pace.

webcomics is a tightrope act where you're also spinning 4 plates at once. the trick is to keep the audience from realizing how many actually fall or how wobbly they all are. the act sucks but technically its not a failure.

#a ghost story #webcomics #webcomic #webcomic day

40 notes · View notes

ghostfaceaddams · 9 months ago

Text

ibold | chapter one

summary: The five survivors of the 2022 Woodsboro massacre are now in New York City moving on with their lives or trying to at least.

warnings: cussing and a moment of violence in a flashback, that's all, I think.

word count: 3,060.

a/n: This is my baby so I hope everyone likes it! Feel free to pick an actress as Cairo or just have your own image of her in your mind or pretend you're Cairo; whatever makes the reading experience better for you guys.

series masterlist | next part

She was the most beautiful human being Cairo had ever seen in all of her eighteen-and-a-half years of being alive on earth. Living in New York City, you see a shit ton of people every day and that is literal. Hypothetically, you see a million people in a year; at stores, on walks, as extras in a tv show or movie, etc.

Out of all of those people, no one even compared to the raven-haired girl across the room. She was short, but Cairo could always spot her no matter the crowd. Most people teased her for her height, but Cairo genuinely found it endearing. Her smile was brighter than quasars, constantly leaving Cairo on her knees and rendering her useless. She had dimples accenting her marble, smooth cheeks. It was such a funny thing to Cairo, that dimples were biologically considered imperfections, but non-scientists find them alluring. All of the freckles kissing across her face were the stars in Cairo’s galaxy, the girl being Cairo’s revolving world. She had a unique voice that wasn’t like anyone else’s. There was a rasp to the edge of her words; sometimes the rasp was thickly coated, like when she woke up in the morning or was running out of breath or got excited. It could be deep, but not Sophia Bush deep. No matter what, it was always soft and pleasant sounding. A lot of people agreed with Cairo that listening to the other girl’s voice was calming, a remedy for anxiety even. Her eyes were big but not the repugnant kind. They were a deep brown that could light up and yet still remain mysterious. Her eyes were her most innocent feature and the ones that got her everything she wanted. She wasn’t just hot though. No. Her brain could remember the entire dialogue to The Babadook and graduated at the top of her class. She was very perceptive in a mostly subtle way. Snark was a fabulous hobby of hers and her heart was the most golden heart that ever shone. Selflessness and loyalty were the foundations of her persona, of who she was; what made her her. Everyone tripped over themselves at her natural, graceful beauty. Half of them were privy enough to see what she was about on the inside and fall head over heels for her. Cairo was definitely the latter. So was Chad. Cairo couldn’t blame him for falling for her childhood best friend. It’d be concerning if he didn’t. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less to watch him give heart eyes to the girl she was in love with. ‘She could never be yours anyways. You know that.’ Falling in love with your best friend was the worst form of emotional pain imaginable.

Cairo despised the media and pop culture that romanticized the trope, especially the ones with a happy ending. Happy endings were overrated and unrealistic, especially when it came to “unrequited love.” It either ends up being requited, or they find someone else. That wasn’t always the case though. For eighteen years, Tara had only ever looked at Cairo with platonic respect and adoration.

Ever since she was a teen, Cairo tried to find someone else to crush on and hoped for someone to want her. The last part never happened until this year. She was still out of luck in the crushing department. At the end of the day though, as much as Cairo felt like she was suffocating, she was happy for Chad and Tara. They were both her friends that she cared about and loved deeply. She’d never risk their happiness for her own, especially when it wasn’t likely to lead to happiness for her. Cairo winced as she sipped the awful beer in the red solo cup. It didn’t matter how hard she tried with alcohol; it just didn’t fancy her like it did the others. “Hey, Roe.” Cairo didn’t need to look up to know that it was Quinn who was standing beside her. Quinn was the only one who ever called her that, her own personal nickname for Cairo.

Everyone else called the brunette girl by her full name - or Cai - and teachers called her by her last name - Miss Reed - or Cairo. She really hated her name sometimes. Well, most of the time if she was being honest. “Hey, Quinn.” The ginger got to work with grabbing two red solo cups and picking up one of the glass bottles of alcohol. Cairo bit her lip and scanned the packed room for any sign of her roommate or their other two friends. Cairo turned back to Quinn to shout over the music, “Where’s Anika?” Quinn was grinning when she spoke, her eyes glittering intoxicatingly. “She’s trying to help Ethan score a date.” “Key word trying.” Cairo teased earning a chuckle from the other girl. “Mindy is having fun watching, and I am getting drinks for myself and that cute boy waiting for me.” Cairo turned to follow the direction Quinn had pointed to with her eyes. The boy looked to be the same height as Quinn with curly hair & a stubble that made him seem like a fuckboy, but his boyish smile and awkward wave was contradicting. The brunette nodded her head. She took a step closer to the ginger and leaned in close so she could be heard. “I think I’m going to leave, maybe check on Sam on the way back.” Before the friend group had rallied together and ventured off to this party, the Carpenter sisters had gotten into it...again.

The arguing between the two sisters was becoming more and more frequent as time was going on. Everyone was on edge, wanting to say something to ease the tension but not knowing what to do or knowing if it was their place to even do or say anything. The twins and Cairo worried more than anyone, having grown up with the two sisters. Tara used to listen to Cairo and the others when they had something to say. Especially Cairo. Nowadays, Tara only ever listened to herself and only did what sounded pleasing to her. Guess Chad sounded especially pleasing to the girl. Cairo was really trying not to think about that though. About any of it really. “What? Come on, you said you were going to try!” Quinn lightly smacked the back of her hand against Cairo’s bicep. The brunette chuckled halfheartedly and raised her eyebrows. “And I did, now I’m leaving.” Cairo knew that if she didn’t move her ass at that very second, Quinn was going to showcase a frown and beg Cairo to stay “for herself and not me.”

(It was true, Quinn was doing this all to help Cairo take her mind off of the girl she couldn’t have. But it was becoming too much for Cairo.) Quinn was already in the midst of tilting her head to the side and parting those talented lips. But Cairo was quicker. She was quicker than anyone at everything, except for telling Tara her feelings. Which was precisely why she was in this predicament. “I’ll see you later, Quinn.” Quinn sighed but let Cairo give her a hug and turn to head out the door. It wasn’t until she was down the sidewalk and turning into the quad on campus that Cairo finally felt like she could breathe. She dunked her head down and placed her hands on her hips. She couldn’t stop seeing Tara with Chad.

Or with Amber. She had thought that watching Tara kiss or hold hands with Amber was painful, to watch Tara’s eyes light up whenever she saw or talked about Amber, having to encourage Tara to make a move and smile for her, she thought all of that hurt.

But this…this was so much worse. Cairo almost wished she was back in high school, watching the two girls parade around. Walking in on Chad and Tara, that had been worst of all.

It was her own fault, she should’ve knocked a second time and waited for an okay. But she could tell something was wrong with Tara and she had to get to the bottom of it before she permanently lost her mind. There were too many days spent canceled and nights spent on read. It wasn’t like Tara, not even when she was with Amber. She had left the apartment, bolting down the stairs and struggling to hold the bile in before making it outside. There wasn’t any shame in her body as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve and stood up. They lived in New York City, some girl puking on the sidewalk was the least weird thing citizens saw. Cairo went back to the dorm that night crying. Anika was staying at Mindy’s dorm, which was only down the hallway, so she didn’t have to worry about being bombarded with questions.

She spent the rest of the evening into later afternoon, hibernating under her covers with her earbuds in and curtains drawn. She was in the shower, changing out of her clothes from the night before finally, when Anika made it back. They spoke briefly through the curtain and then Anika was gone, off to hang out more with her girlfriend and their friends.

So, Cairo just dressed in whatever she found and got back into bed with a trashcan nearby. Having to pretend for another month like she didn’t know they were together was utter torture for Cairo.

Every time she was around Chad she felt nauseated, and she couldn’t look at Tara without her throat starting to hurt from suppressing sobs. At parties, she got blackout drunk so that she didn’t have to remember them being touchy with one another. She stopped texting Tara as much and didn’t ask to hang out anymore. For two months, Cairo had been smiling in the presence of the couple and drinking herself to sleep. She was getting tired of the drinking if she was honest. Being hungover and heartbroken was the most horrific combo.

The past few days she had been lying in bed with her hood blocking her from the rest of the world and earbuds drilled in. She hated how much of a baby she was about this whole thing. Hell, this felt worse than all of the stabs she received last year.

(Or the single one she received at eight years old.) Or worse than the betrayal of her older sister who she had idolized. “Tara will never be yours, Cairo.” “She doesn’t have to be, as long as she isn’t yours.” Then she headbutted Amber, sending the girl staggering backwards. There were three gunshots that sang Cairo to sleep.

When she woke up, Sidney was there. She didn’t see Tara until the next day. Since then, she hadn’t seen Tara a whole lot. She figured that the young Carpenter girl blamed her for the Ghostface attacks or wished that she hadn’t made it out alive.

Or maybe she cared more about Chad than Cairo. She wasn’t really sure. All Cairo was ever sure of anymore was that she missed her cousin Sidney. Sidney had wanted to adopt Cairo after being orphaned, but authorities thought it was best for her to stay with a closer relative, her father. He had no problem signing his rights over to Kirby three years later when she finally turned 21 years old.

For reasons that didn’t make sense, he didn’t want to give Cairo over to Sidney. Cairo thinks he just reached his limit and saw Kirby as the closest scapegoat. “You still want me?” “Of course I do. I might have adopted you, but you’ll always be my little sister, and I’ll always take care of you. Okay?” Cairo blew out a raspberry and started walking in the direction of the Carpenter-Quinn household.

It took two knocks in two intervals for Sam to open the door.

Cairo stood on the other side, twirling her earbuds around; to the left and to the right, raveling the cord around her finger and unraveling it. She immediately dropped her hand, holding her earbuds with both hands, when the door opened. Cairo grinned mischievously and cocked her head to the side. “Hello, Cute Boy.” Said man chuckled softly and smiled charmingly at the shorter girl. Cairo kept on smiling as the man turned back to Sam, who looked rather uncomfortable at the whole situation. “I’ll call you later.” The stranger said. Sam nodded her head and lifted her tense lips up. “Okay.” “Okay.” The man said, still smiling dreamily at Sam. Cairo had to duck her head down and scratch her cheek as the man walked by so he wouldn’t see her cheesing. She watched him walk down the stairs, turning back to look at Sam at the top step before continuing.

She raised her dusty brown eyebrows at Sam with the same antagonizing grin in place. “Cute Boy from across the hall, huh?” Sam scoffed and rolled her eyes. Her reluctant smile contradicted her previous actions.

All Cairo could do was laugh. “Get in.” Sam nudged her head behind her. Cairo did as she was told, plopping herself down on the couch. Sam gave the brunette a reprimanding look, but it didn’t succeed its message.

The younger girl had her hands clasped behind her head and was smiling gorgeously. It was the smile that made her gray-brown eyes sparkle and had Sam wishing for a different life for the girl. Sam smiled and crossed her arms in that sisterly manner of hers. “What are you doing here, Cairo?” The brunette shrugged nonchalantly. But her downcast eyes and moving feet said she was uncomfortable. “Just came to check on you.” When she flicked her gaze up, she saw Sam looking to the side and nodding her head. She released her bottom lip and ran a hand through her inky black hair as she descended on the couch.

The older girl smacked Cairo’s shoes prompting her to raise her feet. She promptly set them back down on Sam’s lap afterwards. Sam cupped the top of the girl’s bottom legs and turned to look at her.

Cairo no longer had her hands behind her head but clasped carefully on her stomach. She was looking at Sam like she was the older sister or the mom, patiently waiting for the girl to speak and waiting to catch Sam if need be. “She’s not dealing with this, Cairo.” The gray-brown eyed girl sighed empathetically, her head nodding along. “Does she talk to you about it?” Sam asked. Cairo glanced down at her lap and shifted. “She doesn’t talk much to me anymore.” It wasn’t like Tara had just dropped Cairo.

They stilled texted a lot and there were frequent phone calls. But ever since the attacks in Woodsboro last year, Tara had been keeping her distance from Cairo. When they did talk or see each other, it was as if everything was the same as it had been before. Ever since Chad and Tara had finally come forward with their relationship (even though it was painfully obvious to everyone), Tara had been more talkative and social with Cairo. The brunette couldn’t help but feel like maybe Chad had said something to prompt the change. He was a nice guy, very protective and loyal to those closest to him, goofy and definitely attractive. Cairo loved Chad. It just made everything hurt so much more. Cairo lifted her gaze from her twitchy fingers to gauge the older girl.

She was looking off into the distance, watching memories and worst-case scenarios on the blank tv screen. Sam looked miserable. That tended to happen when you worried about your little sister’s trauma. “What about you?” Sam stitched her eyebrows together and frowned at the younger girl. Cairo took that as a prompt to elaborate further. “How are you doing with…dealing about this? How’s therapy going?” Sam heaved a heavy sigh that left Cairo’s heart twisting uncomfortably. “I think I need to find a new therapist. This guy pushed me to open up the other night then wanted to assign me to someone else. Pretty sure he has a foot fetish too.” Sam added the last part thoughtfully. “Sounds like a douche. I say dump his ass before he dumps you. But don’t dump Cute Boy.” Cairo grinned like a cheshire cat. Sam rolled her eyes fondly, pushing the brunette’s legs off of her.

Cairo squeaked as she tilted to the side, almost falling off the couch and onto the floor. She watched as Sam got up, heading into the dining room to clean up. That’s when Cairo noticed the two wine glasses and two empty plates. (Cairo tried not to worry about the wine glasses. It was just wine…right? It was drugs and beer that were Sam’s vices, not wine. Christina was the one whose vice was alcohol in general. That woman would drink anything she could get her hands on. Anything that fuzzed her thoughts and shattered her inhibitions was welcomed to her digestive system.) There weren’t any candles or dimly lit lights on in the apartment, so it didn’t seem like they were going for an intimate night. Which made sense, because Sam didn’t know if Tara would be coming back or not.

It didn’t take a genius to piece together that no one knew about Cute Boy because Sam didn’t want to set Tara off in any way. Still, Cairo felt bad for interrupting their date night. “His name is Danny, and we aren’t dating.” Sam said lightly from the kitchen. Cairo shrugged as she picked up a weird looking piece of chicken to sniff. “Could’ve fooled me.” There wasn’t any noise except for the clinking of cutlery and spray of water. Cairo hoisted herself up onto the counter in the kitchen and cupped the edge. “I’m not going to tell anyone that I saw him here, I won’t even mention him at all. Now, tell me about how long this has been going on and who initiated it.” Sam couldn’t help but blush as Cairo smiled and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Cairo laughed softly at the flustered woman and playfully kicked her calf. When a minute passed by with no answer, Cairo raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Sam playfully scoffed and shook her head before begrudgingly starting.

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter #ghostfaceaddams #sam carpenter #scream fanfic #scream franchise #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x oc #tara carpenter fic #gfaddamswritingcorner

51 notes · View notes

generalidiocy · 2 months ago

Text

WARNING - LONG POST: Case #0191704

Statement of William Smith, regarding his family business

My family runs the Caravan Hutch, over in Barnet, Northwest London. I doubt you’ll have heard of us, we’re not a chain, and even then we’re specialist. We deal, unsurprisingly, with caravans. We buy them off people, clean them up and refurbish them, then sell them, good as new! Almost�� People love it in the shop. I think it’s Father’s warm personality. He’s always been charismatic. Whenever I ask him his secrets, he praises the ancestors who began the shop. “We have them to thank”, he would reply.

The shop has been the same since it was started. We have a desk, and three chairs, and diagrams of the various models and prices. The front of the shop has no windows, Father says that’s to allow the customers to be surprised as they step through the door. However there is a sign declaring:

"CARAVAN HUTCH – WHERE WE BUY YOUR CARAVANS

COME ON IN, SELL ALL THE CARAVANS YOU HAVE"

The caravans themselves are stored in a warehouse a mile to the west. We visit them every other day, after work, to make sure everything’s ticking over, and to repair any caravans that need it. John was always good at that. The mechanics work, that is.

Anyway, like I said, it’s a family business, my Father inherited it from his Father, who inherited it from his Father, and so on. It goes back for “as long as there have been caravans to sell”, which isn’t actually that far. Caravans only came to England at the end of the 19th century, but according to my Father we’ve been here hundreds of years. Then again Father does love to tell tall tales. He once remarked that his Father had “the most remarkable teeth I’ve ever worn!” I still don’t know what that means. I never knew my Grandad. He died not long after we were born, which I presume was why Father was sad when me and John were small. We couldn’t fill the hole grandad left when we were that small.

We are twins, both born at the same time. Father was so cross with Mother. He said she had “shamed the family name”. But he never stays cross for long. He told her she could repay him soon enough. I doubt she ever got round to it, though.

A week later, I woke up from a nightmare. I don’t remember most of it, but the image of Father’s face from that dream is forever burned into mine. I was him, but he was… angry. And in pain. His features were contorted almost beyond recognition, but I knew it was my Father. His eyes were completely scrunched, and he looked like he was screaming. I couldn’t hear him though. He was silent. I wasn’t though. I was screaming.

I woke up to see my brother, lying still on his bed at the other end of the room. Looking back, I’m surprised I didn’t wake him up with my crying. Perhaps he was ignoring me. He’d been weird for a while. Quiet, withdrawn. Perhaps that was why he made no move to comfort me as I left my bed to look for our parents.

With the elegance of a small child I crept along the hallway, cursing the old floorboards as I went. I had made it to the top of the stairs when I heard my Father’s voice. He was downstairs, speaking to someone. He sounded angry. Like he was in my dream. But at least his voice was still his own. Once I got to the bottom of the stairs, I waited outside the closed door. Father’s voice was clearer now: “There’s not enough of me left. I haven’t got enough to give them”, he told our… Mother? It must’ve been…

Yes, sorry, it was our Mother. Remarkable, she was. That’s what family friends told us. She disappeared not long after that night. Father told us not to worry, that we’d see her again one day. Though they never did find the body…

I decided not to bother them. Slowly but surely, I snuck back upstairs. If the floorboards weren’t so old and creaky, I could’ve sworn I heard my brother crying. But there was no sound by the time I returned to our room and slid back into bed, trying to push the image of my Father’s pained face from my brain.

Father was a good man, and brought us up well. We had enough to eat, even if it meant he had to go without. He looked so worn sometimes, he had worked for so long to keep John and I healthy. That’s why we were so keen to help him in the shop once we turned 16. We had always known that we would leave school after our GCSEs, and that was fine by me. I never much cared for school, preferring to stay at home and learn the family trade, or just play with my brother. We didn’t really have friends, but we had always had each other, and we always will.

My brother was not the sociable one. He never had been, but it became far more apparent when Father let us begin working in the shop. John never wanted to speak to the customers. He would lurk at the back of the shop, pretending to dust the caravans that I had seen him clean not 2 hours ago. Sometimes this worked, and I would greet the clients, negotiate with them and discuss a fee, as Father had modelled to us both. Other times, he would be made to endure the customers, answering their questions while simultaneously planning an escape route. Poor John. I told Father I was happy to speak to the clients, and John could stay at the back, but Father insisted that John “learn the family ways”.

Eventually John had enough of these demands, and told our Father “no”, that he would not work at the Hutch. While I was aware of his qualms with the job, this took me by surprise, I will have to admit. It was one thing to prefer mechanics work to speaking to people, but to not help the family business at all? I had never known John like this.

We were eating dinner in the kitchen when he announced this. Father ordered John to go to the living room, then told me to go to my room. I wanted to protest that I hadn’t finished my dinner, but the look he gave me as I opened my mouth to say so scared me more than my nightmare had. I left my plate where it was and ran upstairs.

After an hour spent on my phone, curiosity got the better of me. Like I had all those years ago, I snuck downstairs and listened outside the door. Father was speaking. He told my brother that he hadn’t wanted it to happen so soon. But that he had been forced to take measures for the good of the business. Before I could wonder what he meant, I heard someone walk towards the door, someone whose footsteps I did not recognise. I ran back to the stairs as fast as I could, but luckily the footsteps had stopped before the door was open. I raced back to my bed, and my brother came into our bedroom a few minutes later.

I asked him what Father had been saying, what had kept him in there for so long. I left out the part I had overheard, feigning ignorance of the whole conversation. It wasn’t a complete lie. My brother just laughed, and told me not to worry. “The time is not so far away”. He grinned at me, and for the first time I noticed how similar his eyes were to our Mother’s.

The thought scared me. I didn’t ask him about that night again.

After that, John had no trouble dealing with customers at the Hutch. He still worked on the caravans themselves, but no longer complained when it was his turn to man the desk. I almost didn’t recognise him.

Father was thrilled when we told him he could retire. He’d nearly worked himself to death over the years, and I thought it time we let him rest. He could leave, find somewhere to settle down, and let someone else take control. John wasn’t as keen on the idea, but I talked him round. For the good of the business. Father had been worn down. It is time for fresh blood.

We’re making it official on Thursday. There’s a ceremony, I’m told. We will hand over the business, as has been done for generations. I just hope my boys will be up to the task. It is such a tiring job, but little William is oh so eager.

________________________________________________

SFTH/TMA crossover anyone? I miss writing, it took two special interests to get me back into it. Definitely not my best work but I did it in a day and I wanted to share it quickly

Might make this a series, where different SFTH play characters give statements to the Magnus Institute

In my mind it's a Stranger statement

#sfth #tma #SFTH Statements

15 notes · View notes

catindabag · 11 months ago

Text

TBOSAS CRACK! TAKE: ✨AMNESIAC!CORYO SNOW✨

It’s that time of the year where my favorite buddies from the other side of the ocean text me nonstop about their weirdest TBOSAS/THG prompts. Lol. One of them even gave me a call yesterday to make a short crack!AU about our poor cabbage boy (Coryo Snow) accidentally getting ✨amnesia✨ after the Arena Explosion Incident (which is honestly an interesting idea to write and read).

However, because of that, my crack!fueled brain is currently stuck on the mental image of seeing an amnesiac Coryo Snow trying to navigate his old/new life in the Capitol without remembering anything, even the Dark Days and the Hunger Games. He might even become Himbo!Coryo or Soft!Coryo for all we know. Well, let’s just say that his original personality was deliberately thrown out and erased forever when he finally woke up in the Hospital.

But seriously, think about it. If Coryo had amnesia after the explosion, he wouldn’t be able to get Sejanus out of the Arena or save Lucy Gray from the snakey snakes because of his memory loss. He wouldn’t even be of use to Dr. Gaul, which will affect the future of the Hunger Games.

And honestly, I believe that the games would eventually die out in this AU because amnesiac Coryo is not fit to do anything “that” complex. So say goodbye to Snow’s political dreams and ambitions.

Lol. Coryo’s new hobbies will be cooking, gardening, and sewing whether he likes it or not because Tigris is now the head of the family.

Moreover, even if Lucy Gray won and Sejanus was still alive by this point, Highbottom can’t just send an amnesiac Coryo to District 12 because our cabbage boy technically didn’t cheat in this AU.

So hypothetically speaking, let’s say that Coryo won the Plinth Prize. He still wouldn’t be accepted in the University because of his current condition. So what’s his next step?

Option 1: Work in the fashion industry with Tigris in order to pay rent.

Option 2: Marry Sejanus Plinth and his money.

Option 3: Become the best gardener in all of Panem.

Option 4: Sue Highbottom and Dr. Gaul for the Arena Explosion and end the Hunger Games.

Option 5: Marry Plinth, end the Hunger Games, and live a vapid wealthy lifestyle while sipping tea with Festus, Felix, Clemmie, and Lizzie.

Either way, Sejanus is happy that amnesiac Coryo genuinely likes him now.😂

They be like:

Sejanus: Coryo, I’m so glad that you’re alive!

Coryo: Um- who are you again?

Sejanus: I’m your friend!

Coryo: My friend?

Sejanus: Since childhood.

Coryo: You’re my childhood friend?

Sejanus: And more~.😘

Coryo: What do you mean-

Sejanus: We’re together~.😍

Coryo: Together?!

Sejanus: That’s right, my love!

Coryo: My love?!

Sejanus: Yup! I’m your husband-

Tigris: Sejanus Plinth, what are you doing?

Sejanus: Tigris, hi-

Tigris: Are you bothering my poor baby cousin again?!

Sejanus: It’s not what it looks like! I swear-

Tigris: Get away from my poor baby cousin, Plinth!

Sejanus: Coryo’s mine now!

Tigris: He’s mine first!

Sejanus: He said yes!

Tigris: I never gave you my blessing!

Sejanus: Take my money!

Tigris: I’m calling the Peacekeepers!

Coryo: Ugh. My head hurts.😞

38 notes · View notes

lyrenminth · 2 years ago

Text

When we were together

Summary: You and Joe split and meet years after, he realized he fucked up and is mad/sad to see how happy you are without him and starting to regret he left you walk away.

Warning: I mean Joe is a selfish prick is we look it objetively haha Grammar mistakes.

"I can't do this anymore, I'm sorry" you said, your fists tight, your stomach clenched in a tight knot. Many sleepless nights brought you here. You didn't know if you would regret one day, but today it was a decision taken consciously. "Are you serious?" Joe's inexpressive face hurt a little bit. He always has this pretty face and pinky lips you dreamed your children would have one day. "I'm breaking up with you, Joe" you stated, not making eye contact. After eight years together it was so uncommon for a WAG to leave this late, but since there was no ring and no signed papers leaving was easier.

“Why?" He raised his voice "Why are you leaving me?" You closed your eyes, trying not to cry. "Because it is better that way. We don't spend many time together anyway, you are busy and I'm busy. That's it"

"That's it? It's what you have to say?" he frowned "And we spend time together"

"No, we don't and I don't want to discuss it" you contradict him. You had discussions about this topic all the time.

"Well, I want to. You can't leave me, we have been together eight years"

"And that's enough for me" you said harshly, Joe expression was a hurt one, like you just slapped him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude" you sighed, tired and wanting to be as far away from him as possible. You told you closest friends and your family in advance about your decision. You friends weren't so convinced since you had stability with Joe, but your parents were more understanding about the matter. You didn't know why love vanished from you. Maybe it was the routine or how lonely you felt during the season, but one day you woke up and saw Joe as a roommate rather than a boyfriend. And his house started to feel foreign, and his presence wasn't wonderful anymore. And you thought the feeling would be temporary because everyone loved Joe, and you should too. He gave you many things other men could never, but it wasn't enough. You tried to loved him again, going to dates, dressing cute but in general the experience felt so bad. And the blame drown you. How could you think even for a moment to leave a man like him? Handsome, athletic, rich, popular and down-to-earth. "If you leave him, you are going to regret it deeply" a friend told you "You are not gonna find someone like him elsewhere" Maybe you don't, maybe you would regret it for life. But crying every night wasn't your long term option. You couldn’t live like this forever. You weren't attracted to him anymore, a sour and true feeling. And if you brain were smarter, you would have stayed and enjoy the expensive lifestyle, but since your heart was slowly dying you decide to leave."If it is what you truly want, then what can I do?" He said sadly. He wasn’t even fighting for this "But let not make a mess about it, it wouldn’t be good for my image"

You don't. People didn't realize Joe was single after a couple of months later during a interview when he denied to have girlfriend.

***

You built a new life far away from anything football related. You stayed in contact with some of the girls, but always went out during the off-season and never talked about Joe or football in your presence. Sometimes you felt like an outcast but they truly enjoyed your company. You noticed Joe's popularity rise and you watched his commercials in public spaces. When you moved for a job opportunity in another country you got the news that he won his first Super Bowl ring and you were happy for him. You reminded him fondly. You bet he hated all the attention he was receiving, but it was the way it was. After his win, you didn't hear about him at all, until you went back to America, now as a married woman. You saw each other at a wedding from a friend in common. You genuinely thought Matt would never get married, so when you received the invitation you had to see it first hand. You saw Joe in the ceremony, he was dating a beautiful woman that you knew later was a model. You made eye contact across the crowd, it was just a second but you could tell he was surprised. Then his eyes focused on the person next to you, your husband. You felt a little guilty not knowing why. You made a life after him, not avoidable.

You enjoyed the wedding, chatting with old friends and catching up, meeting their partners and babies. A few of them didn't know you were married and you introduce them to your husband. When the party started, you dance together. Your hubby was a good dancer, and both enjoyed the party between laughs and alcohol.

***

Joe hated it. He felt fucking sick.

You were gorgeous as you always were, your blue dress flying around, your naked back he touched many times before. Your childish smile...How could you do so well without him? He was hurt, his ego was hurt. His pride didn't let him to approach you, but when he saw you leave to the gardens, his feet started moving. He wanted to see you again, touch you. See how much you have changed. Why do you married someone else and not him. Why do you moved on when he still had a little silly hope that got crushed when he saw that ring in your finger. Why he wasn't enough? Why, why, why. He loved you so much, and he failed in many ways. You were a simple woman, you never cared about money or luxury things, but the things you care for he couldn't give it to you. Against his pride, he had to admitted to himself that letting you go and letting your relationship sour and die was the only regret of his life. So when he saw you in that bench, staring at the night sky he felt sad. Hurting from memories. You always saw him as Joe Burrow, the guy from Athens, fan of Starts Wars and geeky stuff, the perfectionist and grumpy man. The insecure boy about his teeth and appearance. The anxious man who people has never seen on screen. You knew those sides of him. He loved you since college and those feelings punched him in the gut watching you there.

He walked towards you in silence, when you looked up to him, you got startled. "Joe" your voice sounded strained, surprised. You looked older, your hair had its natural color. When he entered to the NFL you decided to dye it blonde, but always loved your brown hair.

"Hello" he said, a little nervous.

"What are you doing here?" you stand up, looking around. You were alone.

"I want to talk to you"

"Oh, about...what" you asked, flat.

"I wanted to see how are you doing" he shrugged, his hands in his pockets. "Oh, I'm doing well" you said, looking at his blue eyes. The black suit made wonders on him. "I'm married know, I live in London, have you been? It's a nice city" you babble. He felt a sharp pain across his chest. "No, no, you know..." he started.

"You don't like long flights" you finished for him. A short silence between you. The tension rising.

"Can I sit? " He got closer and took a seat, you sat down a few inches apart rigid. "You are dating someone I suppose?" Joe nodded without hesitation. "Nothing serious she wanted help with her model career, I'm helping her until she gets a contract" he shrugged.

"Oh, that's...well, good for her" he smiled a little bit, he was still staring, studying your face. He noticed a few white hairs too, but your eyes were kind as always. Your lips were red and plump as he remembers.

"I can't believe Matt got married" you said, looking the flowers in front of you. "Yeah, I have been wishing many things tonight" he replied as a joke.

"Like what?" He shrugged with nothing to say apparently. The true was he didn’t want to say it out loud.

"Winning another Super Bowl?" You added. "Did you watch the game?" he asked, hopeful. It was a great moment in his career.

"No, I couldn't" you answer disappointed him. You were beating him without knowing. Damn you were completely over him. And why you shouldn't? You were resilient, strong on your own. What a selfish piece of crap he was. When you broke up with him, he thought you were going to comeback to him after a couple of months, when that didn't happen he thought you needed time, and when that time become years he realized he fucked up. Of course, you were dating Joe Burrow the guy from Athens, not Joe Burrow the Superstar Quarterback. Because yes, you break up with him because he didn't pay attention to the relationship. Because he thought you were staying no matter what. He took you from granted and he lost you.

"Are you ok? You look tired" He hear you voice and went back to his senses. "Yeah, it has been a long day"

"Well, I'm happy you are doing well, Joe" he looked you, your answer was genuine he could tell. You were smiling at him. “I hope you continue your career as healthy as you could be. I wish you the best, truly”

He stared at you long and hard. He felt a sting in his eyes and looked down. How could you be so kind after so many years? and why it seemed like another goodbye from you?

"Yeah, thank you" he coughed “I wish you well too. Can I asked you something?”

“Yes, go ahead”

“Are you happy with him?” he asked.

You blushed. "Yes, I am" He sighed feeling suddenly more older and tired than ever. "Glad to hear, you deserved it”

“You are going to find someone too, Joe” if you were trying to comfort him, it didn’t work. It was pretty much the opposite.

“I need to come back. Take care" He stood up. He walked a couple of steps when he turned around and said:

"Just for the record, I also wish I had done things differently when we were together"

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fic #nfl

119 notes · View notes

clickityclackity · 2 months ago

Text

Bloody Hyacinths (A Greek Mythology Retelling)

COPY PASTING FROM MY MAIN ACCOUNT AS THIS IS MY NEW WRITING BLOGGGG

just a little something i wrote after reading the Trials of Apollo.Apollo and Hyacinthus own my heart 🥺🥺

i really hope uncle rick brings hyacinthus into the story at some point in a future book cos he’s been mentioned so many times(/ω＼)

The meadow stretched out in front of us_, _adorned by purple flowers. I had created the flowers so lovingly, as I desired them to be a reflection of his beautiful eyes. Such a deed should have been child’s play for the great Apollo, but when I looked into those purple orbs, the turbulence of colored sea that pulled me in, it seemed to me that nothing could compare to the accentuated color of his irises. It had been a while since we got off my sun chariot, and my horses were on their way down the sky without me. In literal terms, the sun was beginning to set, wrapping the meadow in its dim colors. I didn’t stand there as the sun god that day, I was fulfilling my duties as a lover. Of cherishing the most wonderful mortal I’d ever met.

I glanced at him with expectant eyes. I hadn’t felt such need for validation in a couple centuries to say the least. His skin wore a dark, honey color and his sturdy figure turned to face me as I said, “My dear Hyacinthus, accept this gift as an expression of my great love and admiration for you. This island is now yours. When you lie down and let these flowers engulf you, you’ll know what a simple gaze of yours does to me.’’

_ _

I woke up with a start, for the fifth time the past hour. I’d seen the visions at least a thousand times before, my heart getting heavier each time the scene flashed before my eyes. Ever since my father, Zeus, turned me into a mortal, my sorrows aggrandized. My tears streamed down my cheek in patterns down my blistered skin like water moving down a crevasse. The pain had been agonizing enough when I was a god, but my puny mortal self had a pathetic response to heartbreak—heartbreak a several thousand years old.

The mortal world is cruel. Fear and danger roamed around every corner like wind spirits on Calypso’s island. With my immortality snatched away, the fear of death was so dreadful; it sent shivers down my fragile body. I could feel the dark, caustic mist approaching me insidiously, behind which is the face of the infamous Thanatos, Death himself, prepared to pull me into the ‘void’. Millennias lived in glory, all shattered within seconds. Surely no one could have imagined the great Apollo crumbling under the weight of mortality like this, not even Thanatos, or Zeus, or Apollo himself.

Not even my lovely Hyacinthus, whose life had so cruelly been taken away by my carelessness. I winced as the image appeared in my brain once again, my discus flying like Zeus’ lightning, Zephyros’ wind bending its course towards Hyacinths’s mass of blonde hair, him turning his head just in time for the discus to leave an ugly gash across his forehead. At least that’s what it looked like to me, until he started pouring out of the wound. I remember letting out a scream as he fell, his weight cushioned by the bed of flowers. You’d think my priority would be saving him. It should’ve. But I was too absorbed by my anger towards Zephyros, while his life slipped away- in the arms of the god of healing, who did nothing to save him.

I spent centuries blaming Zephyros. But deep down I knew it was my arrogance that was at fault. At some point I faced the truth and the blow was strong enough to break an Olympian. Its definitely strong enough to kill a mortal…

_ _

His head was cradled in my arms, his luscious hair a gold and red mélange. The red was all over my hands, how a murderer’s hand should look. ‘tha thymámai,’ I whispered persistently into his ears until his fair lashes veiled his purple orbs, and his body went limp against mine. ‘I’ll remember. I’ll remember what it was like to love you.’ I would have done anything to save him, and you bet I could have, being a mighty Olympian. However, it was too late. Divinity meant so little at that moment. I wondered if he thought he was just another mortal in my life, who would wither anyway. That was the bitter truth. He was always destined to die anyway. But I, I was Apollo of the twelve Olympians. I had to carry on, without him. I had to carry on knowing the fact that I was the one responsible for his fall. It occurred to me, perhaps death isn’t as bad as it seems.

_ _

When I watched his face through teary eyes, death was the last thing I worried about. Such a punishment would give him justice, anyway. Or it could allow me to be with him, to love him once again. My vision was blurry but somehow his face was crystal clear. My tears only seemed to make his wonderful skin sparkle. And his eyes…their purple irises so intense, they seemed to radiate a fiery light. The light I had so longed to see. The light I yearned for thousands of years after. I would do anything to save the purple fire that light up my life although I was the one to shut it down completely.

His face began to dissolve as these thoughts clouded my head. I reached out a quivery hand, and just like that, he was gone completely.

The meadow stretched out in front of me. i stood alone, my heart aware of his absence and aching. I stared at the island smothered in purple bulbous flowers, at least ten shades lighter with their heads low. Conceivably mourning. And right there in the middle was a cluster of dark colored....hyacinths. Yes, that’s what i’ll call them. He lay there on the purple hyacinths as they soaked his blood and grew into red and magenta flowers. Gradually more of the bloody hyacinths would grow and acclimatize among the shades of purple, forever reminding me of that day.

‘tha thymámai.’

I woke up with a jolt again but it had stopped having an effect on me after the sixth time. I was drained of energy although i lay asleep the whole time. But i couldn’t sit up either.

The visions were gone and i was miserable. I noticed that i was holding onto something tightly- _very _tightly as my hand was numb and my nails bloody. As my vision focused, I realized it was a hyacinth- insidiously soaking the blood from my palm. I let out a sob. All my despair came rushing out through endless streams of tears. I felt like I could go on forever- but my abject body would be unable to comply. So i cried until I had no tears left. And my mind just thought of the one thought that hadn’t occurred to me in years. it was possible to die from heartbreak and perhaps-

Perhaps death isn’t as bad as it seems.

#writing blog #writerscommunity #creative writing #greek mythology #pjo #rick riordan #trials of apollo #apollo #greek gods #greek tumblr #short story #percy jackson #heroes of olympus

14 notes · View notes