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forget-me-not-s · 4 years ago

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Day 4 of Elriel Month

Word count: 2401

Content Warning: Slightly NSFW, spoilers for ACOSF and Azriel exclusive POV.

These past few weeks had been a new kind of hell for Azriel. Since Rhysand ordered him to stay away from Elain, his days have been immersed in darkness and his nights restless. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, her smile had lightened up every room, her laugh his favourite sound and her smell his favorite aphrodisiac.

Part of him understood the reasoning behind Rhys command, but Rhysand had risked everything for Feyre. What he didn’t comprehend is why his own brother wouldn’t want to see him happy. Elain should be able to choose who she wants to be with, even if she never ends up choosing him. He knew he would always put Elain’s choice first even if it meant destroying himself.

In the past months he had realized the true depth of his feelings for the seer. Azriel had thought he would never stop loving Mor, but since Elain came into his life, he realized that he was deceiving himself. He was in love with the idea of love, not with Mor, at least where the last centuries were concerned. Deep down he knew he had loved her once, but Elain’s kindness had opened him to another kind of love, more pure and real, one that he never thought he would have or deserve.

The Cauldron had to be punishing him for all the sins he had committed, Azriel knew he wasn’t deserving of love. He had finally found the female he wanted to share his immortal life with, just so the Cauldron would choose another male for her.

Today was going to be especially hard for him as he wouldn’t be able to escape seeing her. He had tried to avoid her after the incident on the stairs, but today would be impossible not to be near her. Part of him needed to see her one more time, as he was a starving man and her sight would be the only thing that would satiate him. Feyre had asked his council on a matter regarding the human courts, and Nuala had confirmed Elain would be present during the meeting.

Surprisingly, when he arrived at the River House Elain was the only one there, no sign of their High Lord and Lady to be seen. She looked beautiful, her hair down, ruffled by the early spring breeze, face sun kissed probably after spending the morning tending her gardens under the sun. Azriel knew the moment she saw him, as her scent changed, he had to contain the groan that wanted to be released.

Elain felt more than saw the shadowsinger appear in the kitchen, her breath catching and her cheeks blushing. She couldn’t help it, she had been preparing herself for this encounter for days. It had been almost three months since the ill fated night, and he had been avoiding her. She still couldn’t believe how close she had been to kissing him, part of her was still furious at the interruption. The moment she had believed what Azriel had told her, that it had been a mistake. That’s why she returned the necklace, because the last time a male had gifted jewelry, he had called her a monster and rejected her love and she didn’t want to feel like that ever again, even if it broke her heart parting with that thoughtful gift. But now she knew it hadn’t been a mistake. Azriel had been forced to flee her side and to never approach her again. What made her furious was that it wasn’t caused by an enemy force; the cause of this had been her own brother-in-law. When she saw what had happened in one of her visions, she confronted Rhys.

She had had enough, she wasn’t a child to be coddled. Her life had been taken away from her since the moment she was forced into the Cauldron, her future forever changed. None of it with her consent, none hadn’t been her choice.

So she was mad at Rhysand as he was taking away her choice once again, by forcing Azriel to never follow that path with her. Even if it meant hurting them both. It seems like she would never be able to choose for herself, the Cauldron forming a bond with a male who didn’t understand her, that played a small part in her trauma and that he wasn’t HER choice. For the first time ever she made her voice heard, she wouldn’t be stifled again, not with this and not with anything else moving forward. She had had enough, she was the only one who would decide her own destiny. And she had chosen Azriel. She wouldn’t hide her feelings for the shadowsinger, she wouldn’t let Rhysand or anyone dictate her life, she wanted to love freely, her love wouldn’t be a forbidden union. She realized that in her new world people would tell her who she needed to be but she would have none of that, she would fight back and say no, this is who I am.

Her first step had been speaking with Rhys and telling him she would talk with Lucien, that’s when she found out she could actually break the bond. Knowing this felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She clarified that she wanted to break the bond. Not because of what had happened during the Solstice but because she needed to make her own destiny and the bond was a prison for both herself and Lucien. Feyre had been present for the last part of the conversation as her powers had gone out of control with all her emotions running wild. That’s how she managed to trick Azriel into coming to the River House, he thought he was meeting her sister. She had tricked him, but they needed to talk.

Her conversation with Lucien had gone better than she expected, it hadn’t been an easier one, but necessary nonetheless. After hours of talking, they had agreed that it was better if they broke the bond. She wasn’t surprised when Lucien had been a bit reluctant at first, as the mating is more instinctive for the male, but what had shocked her was that Lucien told her how he believed he was starting to develop feelings for Vassa. She teased him endlessly. They spent the rest of the afternoon talking, morning came and they had still been deep into conversation, funny how the day they had finally broken the bond was the day they talked as friends, free at least from those invisible chains.

Azriel saw Elain’s shy smile appear and he couldn't help returning it. There was something different about her, her eyes were clear, she looked rested, and somehow free. Her distinctive smell had also been altered.

“Elain, I thought I was supposed to meet Feyre” he said while walking closer to her.

“I know, I asked her to fake the meeting so we could talk” he stopped walking, surprise appearing on his expression.

“Are you ok? Has something happened?” His facial expression turned murderous, if someone had hurted her, he was dead.

“No, I just wanted to talk to you about what happened that night” Elain's heart melted at his concern.

“Elain I…” Azriel started to say, part of him just wanted to tell her how he never thought she was a mistake, he wanted to make things right, but he was scared that it would hurt her more, as they couldn’t be together, he wasn’t deserving of love.

“Azriel I know what happened, I know it was Rhysand that stopped it” she interrupted him.

“What do you mean?” he knew he sounded stupid, but she took him by surprise.

“I know it wasn’t a mistake, '' Elain said while she closed their gap, her hands softly grabbing his “a few nights later I had a retrocognition. I saw everything that happened after Rhysand saw us. He had no right to stop what would have happened” she said while her hands brought his scarred ones to her lips. Azriel's voice cracked as he talked “I shouldn’t have said it was a mistake, Rhys or no Rhys you could never be a mistake Elain, you are everything that’s good” his hands moved to grasp her face, bringing his forehead to lay on hers. “I know that now, but I would be lying if I told you, you didn’t hurt me, it felt like Greysen all over again” Azriel heart broke, that was never his intention, he would kill himself before hurting her “I am so sorry, what can I do to fix it?” he needed to get things right, he would beg on his knees for her forgiveness. “Just kiss me and make me forget it ever happened” she murmured.

Azriel didn’t hesitate, he closed the gap and finally ley his lips on hers. The kiss was soft, innocent even, an apology and a promise all wrapped into one perfect gift. Elain’s arms wrapped around his neck, bringing them closer, her tongue graced his lower lip asking for permission, turning the soft kiss into an explosion of passion.

Azriel hands were everywhere, he needed to touch her, to prove this was real, that it was actually happening and he wasn’t in one of his dreams. Elain let out a moan when his hands graced her sides, getting closer to her aching breasts. “Elain as much as I love this we need to talk” he said trying to distance himself from her even though it pained him, but they needed to discuss what happened next, he still had orders and she was still mated.

“Fine” she said, not without giving him a quick kiss. She would be his death.

“What happened after you had your vision” he asked, his fingers running small circles on her arms.

“I told Rhysand that that would be the last time he would take away my choice for political reasons. All my life I’ve been an afterthought, I never had much choice, and when Hybern took me and I was forced into the Cauldron I was stripped of everything. Now that I was finally getting my voice back, Rhysand took it away from me once again, and I had enough. No one will tell me who I should love, not a High Lord and definitely not an ancient bond”

He now realized what the change in her smell meant, under the small hint of arousal, he smelled her and only her, no trace of the bond couldn’t be found. He almost fell to his knees begging for a chance to love her as she deserved to be loved. His kiss was bruising, the passion soaring, he wanted to convey everything that he was feeling on that kiss. Elain was giving him everything he thought he would never have, she was choosing him. For the first time in his life someone was willing to risk everything to be with him.

“Azriel” Elain said in between kisses, her melodic laugh appearing when he couldn't stop giving her small kisses around her neck, making her shiver. “All those moments we shared in our gardens, the small touches we were brave enough to have, made me realize that you are my choice, that even if the Cauldron didn’t tie us together, you are my mate, the one I choose. The one I love” she said while tears running down her beautiful face “don’t cry my rose, you have made me the happiest male, I love you more than words can convey, you are my everything Elain” he responded while lowering her on the soft grass, his hands tenderly caressing her face, collecting those happy tears.

Elain’s hands grabbed his hips, making him fall on top of her, straddling her hips. Azriel let out a groan at the friction this position bringed to his aching cock, her hands started untying his fighting leathers“ Are you sure Elain?, We have the rest of our lives for this” he said while giving small kisses where her neck met shoulder. “Yes I need to feel you, to feel our love in the most carnal of expressions ”

They made quick work of their clothes, Azriel started a trail of kisses, lowering himself between her legs. Elain’s hands wreaked havoc on his hair as he finally got his first taste of her, sweet, she was so sweet and wet. Her whimpers the only sound beside the birds chirping, his tongue creating an increasing crescendo of pleasure as he licked her soft folds, putting pressure on her clit making her even more wet. He was a starving male and Elain his only salvation. When she felt she was close to her climax, she pulled him off her “I want to fall with you inside me” she said, her eyes dark with lust. He kissed her, her mouth warm and soft, he bit back a groan as she took his cock and brought it to her entrance, the sensation overwhelming. They both moaned as he started moving. Slow at first, making her go crazy with desire, she needed to feel more “harder Azriel, I want to feel all of you, you won’t hurt me” she said while coaxing him with her hands on his back, his body went still, his entire world stopped at her soft cares on his wings. The groan he let out was feral, deepening his thrusts making them both moan louder. The sound of sink on sink and their encouraging sounds the sole symphony as they chased their climax. Azriel kissed her to stifle her moans, his hand touching her at the apex of her tights making her go over the cliff, Azriel joining her thrusts later when Elain found a sensitive place on his wings. Making him roar with pleasure.

Afterwards when they were both satiated Elain kissed him softly, her hands drawing small circles on his back. A sweet smile on both of their faces. Happiness, utter happiness ran through them as they rejoiced in their love making. They both knew this was a new beginning, their relationship barely starting, they had so much to learn and discover. War was starting once again and they would have to fight for it, this time would be different, the stakes higher as they would fight to get back to each other. But together they would overcome everything. Together they would fight as one.

#elriel #elriel month #elrielmonth #elrielmonth21 #pro elriel #elriel ff #elain archeron #Azriel

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gabywantsafriend · 4 years ago

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Anything For You: Ferris Bueller x Reader

(Kinda my gif??? Idk I found it online but I originally posted it on here)

Requested by anonymous: ferris bueller realizing he loves the reader maybe?

I’m so sorry it took such a long time to post another imagine! I hope you guys enjoy it :’)

Warning: Swearing

“Adams?” “Here.”

“Adamley?” “Here!”

“Adamowski?” A rather lazy hand was raised, indicating the student’s presence.

“Adamson?” “Here.”

“Adler?” The response was delayed by a couple of seconds. “Here.”

“Anderson?” Another delayed response. “Anderson?” “Here!”

“Bueller?”

Nothing. You quickly scanned the room, he wasn’t there. You hadn’t even noticed that he didn’t walk in that morning. You looked at Cameron and he shrugged. Apparently he didn’t know what Ferris was up to or where he was. “Bueller?” Crickets. “Bueller?” Dead silence. “Bueller?” The teacher’s monotonous voice began to sound like a broken record player.

You cleared your throat as you tried impersonating the missing troublemaker, letting out a low “Here.” The class snickered, causing your teacher to silence everyone. Turning to you, he huffed.

“L/n, I know you and Bueller are best friends but you really don’t have to cover for him in his absence. You’ll get your turn in the roll call later, don’t get too excited,” He went on with checking the attendance. You stubbornly sank into your seat, eyeing the vacant one next to you where Ferris was usually sat. What kind of trouble do you have in mind this time?

--------

Recess rolled in and you were standing at the phone booth just outside of your school. You dialed Ferris’ home number and waited for him to pick up. He was probably out on another one of his spontaneous adventures.

“Hello?” His voice was nasally, he was always good at playing sick.

“Oh, cut the crap. Where the hell are you, idiot? This is your tenth absence this semester, you said you didn’t wanna miss school after last time! No wonder your grades are shit! What are you up to now?” You scolded. Skipping class to hang out and be teenagers was fun the first few times. However as it became a habit of Ferris, you wished he could take school more seriously.

“Y/n, calm down. First of all, I could easily hack into the school’s computer system and change my grades,” He coughed. “Second, I’m not kidding this time. I’m actually sick.” You scoffed, muttering a small “yeah right.”

Of course, you found it hard to believe. You’ve known Ferris Bueller since you were ten. And you knew that it took a lot for him to be ill.

“Why would I ever lie to you? I’m serious,” he deadpanned. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Alright, I’ll bring today’s assignments for you and I’ll visit you as soon as class ends.” You could practically hear him smile through the phone as he spoke. “Thanks, Y/n. You’re the best.” You bid goodbye as he did the same, both of you putting down the phone.

Well, what do you know. For the first time in a long time, Ferris Bueller was sick.

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You dropped your bike right in front of the Buellers residence and sprinted to the back door. You lifted the rug and took the spare key that Katie Bueller left in case of emergencies or whenever you wanted to visit. You were always welcome. Unlocking the door, you bolted up the steps and stopped in front of the door to your best friend’s room..

“Ferris, you better not be naked. I’m coming in.”

“Hi, Y/n.” The sight was beyond pitiful: The floor was littered with used tissues. Bottles of medicine decorated his dresser. And on the bed was a very pale boy, sniffling and shivering still even under the many layers of blankets he was covered in. Oh, Ferris.

“You look like shit.” He let out a weak chuckle. “It’s nice seeing you too,” he quipped. You rolled your eyes at his untimely use of sarcasm and pressed the back of your hand to his forehead.

“Jesus, you’re practically steaming,” You commented, getting up to fetch him an ice pack to hopefully lower his temperature. “I’m flattered, Y/n. I really am. But can you keep it in your pants until after I get well?” You were used to his foul-mouthed jokes by now. “Very funny, loser. Now put this on your forehead,” You handed him the cold material and he obeyed, hissing as it touched his skin.

“Oh, right! I got the homework for you,” you told him, getting your bag and pulling out his books and assessment sheets and laying them on his desk. “I also wrote an extra copy of the notes you missed,” You handed him the pages that you’ve ripped from your notebook where the duplicates were. His eyes, teary from his cold, widened.

“Wha-? But I just asked for you to get today’s assignments! You didn’t have to go an extra mile with taking my notes for me!” He took the papers gratefully, flipping through them. “I’m convinced you’re my guardian angel or some shit! Thank you so much!”

“Anything for you.”

It was true. You’d gladly and endlessly do anything for him.

You’ve liked Ferris since you first covered for him in fifth grade.

Young Ferris thought it’d be a good idea to chuck a bouncy ball at Mrs. Ritland, the math teacher you had all despised. Believe it or not, he was an even bigger idiot back when you were ten. She was writing on the chalkboard, back turned to you; the perfect time to strike. The small toy hit the poor lady’s nape. The classroom was suddenly filled with gasps and the sound of laughter. She exclaimed in pain, rage-filled eyes darting from student to student. Before she could even question which delinquent threw the damned thing, you stood up and raised your hand.

“I did it, Mrs. Ritland!”

Ferris was quick to defend you, chucking another bouncy ball at the woman. “If you even think of punishing her, you’ll have to go through me!”

You were both given a month’s detention and have been inseparable ever since.

“I’m dying,” He croaked, snapping you out of your daydream.

“Oh, please. You’re not dying. You just can’t think of anything good to do!” You quoted him. “Didn’t you say that yourself?”

He groaned, “Yes, I did say that myself. But now isn’t the time. I’m really not feeling well, Y/n.”

“Nonsense! It helped Cameron last time, he felt great afterwards.” You got off the bed, trying to pull him up with you. Instead, he snuggled deeper into the covers. “Aww, come on! Get up on your feet, mister! What do you feel like doing today? The weather’s lovely! Maybe we can go swimming? Or perhaps you’d like to go to the arcade? Ooh, street food sounds good! Just tell me where you wanna go, and I’ll take you there!” You coaxed excitedly.

“As much as I love our adventures, I was thinking maybe we could just stay here? You know, we could talk for a while and we can take a nap together just like when we were kids. And when I’m feeling better, we could watch a movie,” Ferris spoke softly, sniffling right after. You hummed, considering his offer.

“You can stay here and rest. I can get us some corn dogs from the stand nearby, I’ll be quick I promi-”

“No, no, you missed my point,” he shook his head, grinning at your stubbornness. “I meant can you stay? We don’t have to go anywhere. I enjoy your company, it’s more than enough,” He pulled the blankets to his nose, hiding his bashful smile as well as his growing blush. You were sure you would have melted then and there.

“Sure thing. Ferris.” You adored this boy.

It had been an hour since you’d agreed to stay in with Ferris and you were seated at his desk, tutoring him about trigonometric functions, a lesson he missed that day. He was reading the notes on the topic, following along with what you were saying. “Okay, I found this to be quite easy. So, we start off with the basics: sine, cosine, and tangent-”

At least, that’s what it looked like.

At first glance, it seemed as though he was actually studying. But what you didn’t know was that he had been admiring your handwriting and your little doodles on the blank spaces of the paper.

See, Ferris liked you. He’s liked you since forever ago. He remembered the moment so vividly, as if it only happened yesterday.

“I did it, Mrs. Ritland!”

He looked at you and thought, “Wow, that is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Obviously, he couldn’t let a pretty girl such as you take the blame for what a stupid boy such as him had done. It just wasn’t fair to you. So he immediately admitted that it was his fault, as he should.

He felt guilty that you had to get wrapped up in this mess and had to suffer the consequences. To make up for it, every time you had detention, he would take you to secret hideouts around the school. That two months of running around school trying not to get caught marked your first of soon-to-be-many adventures.

And now here you were, almost eight years later, helping him solve for x. His eyes softened at how into it you were while teaching him. You were even more beautiful than when you were a kid, just when his younger self thought you couldn’t get any more stunning.

He thought about how you were kind enough to fill him in on everything he’d missed; how as soon as class was dismissed, you biked as quickly as you could just to take care of him. You could have easily ditched him to go out and get those corn dogs you’ve been craving; or you could have easily gone out for a walk since, according to you, “the weather’s lovely.”

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

The mere thought of that, along with everything about you, caused his heart to pound out of his chest.

I think I’m in love with her. Fuck that. I am in love with her.

“...And that explains why sine 90° is equivalent to 1. What the-? Ferris Bueller, are you even listening?” You waved a hand in front of his face, still not responding. He looked as if his mind was somewhere completely different. “Hello? Earth to Ferris?” He blinked a few times, shaking his head. He whispered something you didn’t quite catch. “What?” He whispered again. “I can’t hear you, pal. Speak up.”

“I love you. There, I said it.” You were at a loss for words as your eyes met. Both of you progressively got redder by the second.

“What in the right mind made you say that?” Confusion was evident in your voice, as well as nervousness.

“I’ve loved you for a while now and when you dropped everything to visit me today, I realized how deep I’ve fallen,” Ferris bashfully stated. He could be cheesy at times but you thought it was cute.

“Woah, you are such a fucking sap,” You both burst into laughter, him scoffing and clutching his chest in mock offense. “I love you too, you dingus.”

His heart fluttered as you said it. The mix of his sickness and your confession made him lightheaded. You plopped down on his bed, hugging him tightly. “Wait, what are you doing? You’re too close, I’m gonna get you sick!” He asked as you kissed his nose.

You got under the covers with him, rolling your eyes, “You think I still care? I fucking love you for Christ’s sake!” You made him laugh at that. “How about that nap you suggested earlier, hmm?”

He closed his eyes, the biggest grin still plastered on his face. “She loves me,” being the last thought in his head before contently falling asleep.

#80s #80s movies #ferris bueller's day off #ferris bueller x reader #ferris bueller imagine #imagine #ferris bueller #ferris beuller

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celosiaa · 4 years ago

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Short sickfic/whump prompt: based on the brief instances when I've heard him sing, I know for a fact that Alex J Newall has quite a good singing voice (+ a really pretty vibrato 😍), and lately I've been thinking a lot about Martin singing to Jon as a way of calming and comforting him when he's ill or upset. So, a hurt/comfort scene involving singing, perhaps? ♥️

I loved this prompt!!! Thank you so much! Here is a short-ish fic about the transition between the Corruption and the Stranger, and the domains having an impact on Jon’s wellbeing.

The song in this fic is “Your Song” by Elton John, which you should definitely give a listen while you read! Please enjoy <3

Just a little longer.

Just hold on a bit, and he’ll be fine.

We’ll be fine.

Sniffling into his sleeve, Martin watches Jon sleep from where he’s curled up with his back against the tree, trying his best not to shiver in the cold he knows is not really there. After they’d left the sick village, Jon had grown weaker and weaker as they approached the next domain—his steps stumbling, his breathing ragged and worn—until Martin had at last forced them to stop. Jon had begun rambling, the words so badly slurred together he couldn’t make any of them out, and the ashen tone of his complexion was enough to convince Martin he was on the verge of blacking out. The way Jon was shaking…he couldn’t help but settle him beneath their blanket, head pillowed on a small pile of their hopelessly wrinkled clothes, though he knows for a fact a steadily climbing fever is wracking his body.

He swipes at his own brow, nose wrinkling against the sweat he finds there, before tipping his head back against the tree in an effort to stem the flow of this sudden congestion. Best he can figure, Jon had been overwhelmed with…well, whatever goes on inside his head these days, and with him weakened, it left both of them vulnerable to the effects of the Corruption. What else could possibly explain this illness out of nowhere, and the heat rolling off the man next to him in billows?

Jon shifts a little beneath the blanket, muttering feverishly with furrowed brows—the sight bringing hot, stinging tears into Martin’s eyes at once.

Damned fever, always making me weepy.

He swipes at his eyes in frustration, the buzzing in his sinuses building to a peak as he does—forcing him to turn away to stifle a few miserable sneezes into his sleeve. It seems his efforts to be quiet were unsuccessful, however—as Jon begins to move about in earnest, letting out a low moan that turns quickly into exhausted coughing.

“Sorry, Jon, I’m sorry,” Martin mutters, letting his knees fall toward him as he reaches for his forehead.

God, that’s horrendous.

He can’t help but wince at the heat he finds there—burning even against his own feverish palm. The coughing hasn’t stopped either, growing deeper by the moment, enough that it’s starting to sound a bit concerning.

“You alright?” Martin asks against the scratching of his own throat, lightly resting a hand on Jon’s chest.

It seems as though Jon did not hear him, merely continuing to cough wetly until his lungs at last settle down. When he finishes, he leans back against the makeshift pillow, breathing as deeply as he can, the dampness crackling through his lungs even as he does.

“You okay?” Martin repeats, running a hand up and down Jon’s clammy forearm.

Still, Jon does not reply, merely closing his eyes and muttering—statements, Martin’s sinking heart tells him, all jumbled together in miles and miles of words of pain, of suffering, of sorrow. It kills him to see Jon carry it all, and know he can do nothing.

Please please wake up

“Jon, can you hear me?” he asks, turning away for a moment to cough into his elbow. “I’m right here, sweetheart—come back to me if you can.”

Grasping his hand tightly, Martin bends down to press a kiss on Jon’s forehead, willing him to return, to say something, anything—

When he pulls back, the muttering has stopped—though only in voice, for Jon’s lips still move erratically around whatever words the Eye is pouring into his mind.

And now tears have begun to slip down his face.

“Oh, darling,” Martin sighs worriedly, cupping Jon’s face in his hands and brushing the tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

To his dismay, Jon takes a gasping inhale beneath his hands, eyes blown wide and wild, before wrenching forward into devastating, guttural sobs.

“Oh god, oh Jon, come here—”

Martin pulls Jon up into his arms, keeping a gentle hold around his trembling frame, hands wrapping around his torso and resting at the nape of his neck. In desperation, Jon clutches at Martin’s back, hands fisting into the folds of his jacket as his breaths pick up both shallowness and speed.

“Shh, shh—I’ve got you, darling, just hush now,” Martin soothes shakily, rocking him ever so softly back and forth, one hand reaching up to massage his scalp in a way he knows Jon usually finds relaxing.

But it’s all for naught, as he only continues to sob harder into his shoulder, hands clenching and unclenching in distress. It dismal, it’s horrid, it’s gut-wrenching—and Martin has no idea how to make it stop.

I’ve got to calm him.

There’s got to be something.

All at once, he is flooded with a memory of the two of them back at the safehouse—Martin in his boxers, Jon in his flannel pyjamas—in the kitchen, laughing and dancing to—

Martin clears his throat, and begins to sing.

It's a little bit funny, this feelin' inside

I'm not one of those who can easily hide

The hands clutching at his jacket begin to loosen, and Martin cannot help but smile.

I don't have much money, but boy, if I did

I'd buy a big house where we both could live

And it’s so clear in his mind’s eye now, that for a moment, he’s sure that Jon is letting him See—the two of them in a proper house, with a dog and a garden and grey in their hair. It’s the loveliest thing Martin has ever longed for.

So excuse me forgettin', but these things I do

You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue

Jon has fully relaxed in his arms now, his breathing slowing down with every line of the song that Martin knows he’s mixed up the words for. Taking a pause for just a moment, he plants a kiss on the top of Jon’s head, swaying him side to side with the rhythm.

Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

At first, he thought he’d imagined it—but Jon’s chest moves in a small shudder of a laugh, face still pressed into Martin’s shoulder.

“They really are, you know,” Martin whispers with a grin, and Jon shakes his head—before his shoulders follow, and Martin can feel the tears dampening his shirt beneath him.

“Oh, darling.” Martin sighs, heart breaking at the little gasps coming from beneath the mess of hair. “Shh, hush now, I’m right here.”

They spend a few moments like this before Martin continues, rocking him back and forth and praying to whatever gods there are that his voice will hold out for just a bit longer.

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind

That I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

At last, at long last, Jon picks up his head from Martin’s shoulder—just barely long enough to peck him on the cheek—before he flops back down again. The joy and relief that washes over Martin now is like nothing he’s ever felt—just grateful that maybe, for now, the worst has passed, and maybe Jon will be able to get some proper rest.

“Here, love—why don’t you lie down, okay? Just lie down on my lap here, you’ll be alright,” he encourages, gently guiding Jon to do just that.

For a moment, they remain silent—Martin stroking a hand through Jon’s fever-soaked curls, before he opens his eyes at last. Though green and glowing and so very strange now—they’re still endlessly deep, and so searching, and so very, very Jon.

God, I love you.

Even as he thinks this, Jon grabs his hand, bring it down to rest against his chest without looking away.

“One more time,” he says, voice whittled away into nothing. “Need you to see.”

“See…?”

“Please.”

And Martin cannot help but comply, as Jon’s eyes fall closed once more.

And you can tell everybody this is your song

All at once, he’s caught up in a vision—and he knows for certain Jon is feeding it to him, letting him in for just a moment—all for the purpose of showing him memories. Memories of them together.

Jon’s arm looped through his as they walk through a blustering Scottish afternoon—

It may be quite simple but now that it's done

Endless cups of tea set on Jon’s desk, before they melt into shared cups, shared tea, Jon making it in their kitchen, Martin teasing him about it not being right—

I hope you don't mind

Lying in bed together—

I hope you don't mind

Their lips joined together in an affront to the dark—

That I put down in words

The vision fades, and Martin is left with what’s in front of him—his love, his love, and nothing else.

I love you I love you I love you

Leaning over him with a blushing grin, Martin sings the last words, certain that he’s never sung them with such force of meaning as in this moment.

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Jon opens his eyes again at last, and—though ill and drained and exhausted beyond all measure—allows his face to melt into a smile, which Martin finds it impossible not to kiss.

“I love you too,” he whispers, before pressing another into his hair. “Now go to sleep.”

At once, Jon does his best to comply, and Martin is soon to follow—a moment of peace in the growing dark.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonmartin #tma sickfic #sickfic #hurt/comfort #my writing

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mikasocks · 5 years ago

Text

All at Once

A/n: shitty angst ha

Pairing(s): Shoto Todoroki x reader

Type/warning(s): one shot, angst

Word count: 834

Bold text signify flashbacks :)

Synopsis: When Shoto finds someone else you were left to express your sorrow through a letter in which he’d never receive.

You remembered it all too well, his lips that tasted of vanilla and mint. His calloused palms that exuded a subtle warmth when graced upon your cheek. The “little” dates where you always had to argue that wherever you went, you’d always be happy as long as it was with him. lastly, you remembered the feeling of falling in love and the feeling of losing him.

There was one part of your guys relationship that you didn’t need to remember though, this was because throughout your time spent together you has compiled a plethora of letter written by Shoto and addressed to yourself. You kept them in a small tan shoe box tucked away under your bed, bundled together in a red ribbon that once was attached to a present Shoto gifted you. They all contained his adoration for you, in which he couldn’t find the words to express in person. He’d leave them in various places without your knowledge, knowing you’d find them unexpectedly when the time came.

“you’re so sweet Shoto, I’ll make sure to write you one of these days huh?.” You held the folded piece of paper between your fingers as your hands wrapped behind his neck. “You don’t have to, all I need is right in front of me.”

You leaned down bracing yourself as tears threaten to prick your eyes. Tugging the familiar box, you placed it on your lap brushing the layer of accumulated dust. This had represented the best days of your life, The days in which feeling lonely had never been an issue and sleepless nights of doubt were little to non.

you hovered over the hundreds of letters, Sorrow washed over your body, the weight on your chest was a horrid feeling. Picking up the bundle you carefully tugged at one end, unraveling the letters that contained your past.

Each was written on a different style of paper, yet had the same neat handwriting signed off with “love, Shoto”. You shuffled through the bunch reading each one. A dry feeling in your mouth and tightening of your lungs begged you to stop, though you couldn't bring yourself to let go. finally you landed on a letter different from the rest.

a simple white sheet, written in black ink and signed off with “love, Y/n.”

Dear Shoto,

You always told me that you wrote letters because finding the right words to say was hard. I guess In my case I have all the right words yet, I can’t bare to speak them to you. Shoto, you broke my heart and the funny thing is I can’t bring myself to love you any less. Maybe it was ignorant of me to think that young love could last more than a lifetime. I can’t tell you what was worse, me holding on to you knowing that you were bond to go or actually letting you go. Months on end on I was made fool for believing in us, maybe I should have let go sooner. I just couldn’t, I didn’t want you us end, albeit we had already came to our end in an unspoken truth. A couples months before everything I wondered, what she had that I didn’t until I realized she had you. I was yours but you were no longer mine. I’m sorry for holding you back, sho. I should’ve let go, we should’ve let go. Though, I wanna know why? Why did you wait so long to end things? You knew you loved her the moment I was second priority. So what took so long? You didn’t want to hurt me, but you knew you were. You looked at me with pity in your eyes. You looked at me like I was your burden. Shoto, if you were planning on leaving why couldn’t you just leave me all at once? Why couldn’t you have saved me the heartache?.. I could’ve saved myself as well and I understand that I was so selfishly in love with you. I know you never wanted to hurt me, the hearts wants what it wants and in end if that wasn’t me I’m still endlessly happy for you Todo. Though I’m sad ill support you always, I wish you the best.

Love, Y/n

You stared at the sheet of paper in front of you, old tear stains and new ones littered the surface making the a paper a mess. You sighed in fustration, scoffing at yourself. You wanted nothing more than to forget your love for him. Adjusting your posture and closing your eyes you began to quickly crumple all the letters. Throwing them away would allow you to start over, you were no longer going to reminisce on the broken. Shakily you stood up from the floor moving towards the desk placed in the corner of your room, grabbing one last letter that was new and neatly placed in a torn envelope. The item that had finally prompted you to fully let go.

“You are cordially invited to share in a celebration of life and love at the wedding of Shoto Todoroki and Momo Yaoyorozu.”

#myheroacedemia #todoroki shouto #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #my hero imagines #oneshot #Headcanon #bnha imagines

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jenoptimist · 5 years ago

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rest assured, you would never trust a telepath again

The way the cold air wrapped itself around you had you shivering, hunching your shoulders into youself in a feeble attempt to trap in any traces of heat. What you were wearing was no help as it differed from your usual cozy attire. The outfit you wore was extra special since it was the night of the grand award ceremony that Chenle was nominated in. Your boyfriend had been raving about it for weeks on end and you knew he deserved it because you witnessed first-hand how hard he worked.

In the distance, you could see the tall building that it would be hosted in and you thanked the gods above. In any other circumstance, Chenle would have picked you up and the two of you would go to the venue together. This time, however, you were arriving on your own because of a hiccup that happened at your store. It was as if events kept piling on today and what made it worse was that your taxi dropped you off at least four blocks away from the venue because of the traffic. You should have just apparated there like you had originally planned.

A shot of irritation ran through you when someone pushed into you as they made their way down the opposite direction. The sidewalk wasn’t even crowded! They just had to bump into you, didn’t they? If you were a worse person, you would have hexed them but seeing as you weren’t taught to use your magick for such petty purposes, you bit your tongue and trudged forward. You really couldn’t wait to be in the comrforting presence of your boyfriend.

“Hey!” A man yelled from behind you and you chose to ignore him since he may have been calling out to someone else but walked a tad bit faster, just in case–you never know what could happen, especially if he was magically inclined. “Hey! Excuse me!” A large hand grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. Without a moment of hesitation, you mumbled a spell that had the stranger be shoved backwards, falling on his back. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?” He said loudly.

Old friend? You had a strong connection with most of your friends, even the ones that were overseas, and this guy? This guy with his half-up half-down hairdo was someone that you definitely didn’t have a connection with because you most certainly did not know him.

‘Please trust me. Someone’s following you,’ his voice rang in your head and it took all your power not to jump. Telepaths weren’t people you came across by regularly since those possessing the ability was thought to have died out, allegedly due to madness. Although you weren’t entirely sure. ‘If you don’t believe me, check the other side of the road. There’s someone lurking at the end of the block.’

Tru to his word when you followed his instruction, hastily sneaking a glance at the direction he told you, you did find someone there. It felt like your blood ran cold. How long had that person been following you? How did you not notice? The more questions that popped up, the more ill you were starting to feel.

“Not going to help me up?” The stranger chided, a chuckle following his words as he stood up. ‘I’m going to hug you now, alright? It’s all for appearances’ sake.’ You followed his chuckle, which sounded robotic to your own ears, and gave a terse nod.

After letting he let you go, you made a big show of greeting him. “Wow, it’s been so long! I haven’t seen you since, what, you left to go study abroad? How have you been?” He played along, smoothly wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he whisked you away from the area. “Are you headed to the award ceremony, too?” You asked, noting how his attire was similar to yours.

“Yeah, I’m actually one of the nominees. Figured you were as well ‘cause of what you’re wearing.” Hyunjin admitted as he dropped his arm from you shoulder and offered his elbow to you instead, which you declined. You had just arrived at the entrance and you didn’t want Chenle to get the wrong idea if he saw the two of you arriving together, arm in arm. Especially since he didn’t know who Hyunjin even was.

“Oh,” you arched a brow, “bragging are we?” You teased as you handed your jacket to the staff. The two of you were directed to the reception area that was buzzing with chatter. Scanning the crowd, you were quick to find your boyfriend, his bright orange hair highlighting him among the natural colors and random spots of blues, purples and greens. Just as you were to say goodbye to that man that had helped you, he steered you away and directed you to a group of people with an arm around your waist.

“These are my friends,” Hyunjin said before he began introducing them to you one by one. You tried to remain pleasant, shooting them friendly smiles, but all you wanted to do was shove his arm away from your face and run over to your boyfriend. Chenle’s eyes were definitely the ones you were feeling at the back of your head. “This is y/n. They’re–”

“Sweetheart.” A voice cut in. You almost sagged in relief when the arm around your waist was replaced with a more familiar one. There was a level of wrongness that you were feeling but without your familiar, a cute black cat that you doted on, you couldn’t be too sure. Hyunjin seemed like a nice enough guy, though, so maybe it was the effect of knowing that someone was following you. After a quick kiss to your forehead, Chenle added, “You’re finally here.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you replied as you leaned into him, “there was a bit of a situation.”

Concern etched itself on you boyfriend’s features immediately. “What! What happened? Are you okay?” He was looking for any indicators that you were harmed, eyes wildly scanning you from head to toe.

Before you could even begin to explain what had happened, including how your day started off terrible, Hyunjin beat you to it and began relaying the situation that played out.

Chenle’s smile seemed pleasant when Hyunjin finished speaking but there was a tick in his jaw that you recognized immediately. “Thanks for helping. We appreciate.” And with that he spun the two of you around and lead you to the rest of your coven.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered to Chenle as Donghyuck began a dramatic re-telling of how Minhyung messed up the potion they were working on for weeks.

“There’s something off about him.”

“Who? Hyunjin?” Your boyfriend nodded. “He seems harmless to me.” On your walk on the way over, he was full of bright smiles and loud laughter. Yes, it could be said that he was suspicious because he just happened to be going to the same destination as you were, but you could rule it as coincidence. Or fate.

Chenle’s brows furrowed, his mouth twisting. “I don’t know. I don’t trust him.”

“Well, you have nothing to worry about because I probably won’t see him again after tonight,” you kissed his neck, just below his ear. “Now forget about him and let’s enjoy tonight.”

You were wrong, of course, because the gods loved playing games with you. Two weeks after Chenle won the award for the category that he was nominated in, the telepath walked into your small store. You were in the middle of re-arranging a few bits and pieces when you heard the bell ring and when you looked over to acknowledge them, you were surprised to find him by the counter. Hyunjin held his face in the palm of his hands, looking at you with a goofy smile.

“Hey,” he sang, watching as you took the crystals that were misplaced by a customer and walked over to the counter. “Busy?”

Remembering that your boyfriend was weary of them man, you told yourself that you would act cordial but with caution. “Not today.”

Hyunjin hummed. “Let’s have lunch! I’ll treat you!”

You almost dropped the crystal you were holding in shock. Hyunjin was very straightforward and if you were the witch you were a handful of years ago, single and desparate for love, you would have swooned at such an attractive guy being as bold as he was. A telepath, too. Other witches were a dime a dozen and being one yourself meant that you weren’t particularly curious about them. Younger you would have probably tripped over your feet in hasty agreement. But, again, that was you in the past. The you in the present was no longer looking for love because you found it in Chenle, who loved you endlessly and never failed to remind you that he did.

“I don’t know,” you replied, “there’s other stuff that I have to do.” You weren’t good at making up excuses on the spot and you were sure that it was very obvious. Judging by the way he chuckled, he caught it.

“Aw come on! Please?” At this point your familiar, Beans, had stopped prowling the area and hopped onto the counter. There was an odd atmosphere in the air when he did, staring at Hyunjin intensely. The man looked at Beans and when they met eyes, the air disappeared and your familiar settled, curling in on herself. “It’ll be fun!”

Eventually, you gave in. There wasn’t much to do, anyway, and, well, you were your own boss so nobody would be on your tail for closing up shop early. Hyunjin really was harmless; he was sweet, funny and had a boyish charm to him. In fact, he becomes a regularly presence in your shop. He embedded himself into your life easily, meeting up for coffee or lunch frequently, watching a new movie in the cinema every now and again, and a lot of the time he helped you around the shop. Whatever wariness you were holding quickly evaporated the more the two of you spent time together.

The reason why you were with Hyunjin more often was because Chenle was busy. He was off working on more potions and the like so that he can get more recognition. As much as you supported him and wanted him to thrive, you missed the days where he would surprise you with lunch that he made, or when the two of you would go on spontaneous dates. He never had time for that anymore, any time for you, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him how you were feeling because it was selfish. His work was something he took pride in and you didn’t want to distract him from it just because you were feeling lonely.

It wasn’t just Chenle, however. All of your other friends had very demanding jobs too, so nobody really had time for each other anymore.

When you and Chenle finally had time for each other, it didn’t go like you though it would. It was the first time you saw him in almost three weeks and the first thing you did was argue. At first, it was over something small that you were willing to overlook because you knew how snarky he got when he was tired. But then it escalated and escalated and escalated and soon you found yourselves trying to shout above one another. It was brutal. The two of you had never had an argument like this and the night that you planned including lots of cuddles and movies was long forgotten.

“Lele, please,” you sighed once silence took over. Your throat felt raw and you were tired. A cute night in with your boyfriend was all you wanted but apparently that was too much to ask. “I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

That elicited a scoff from him. “Spend time with me? What, have you gotten sick of that telepath?” At the surprised look that you gave him, he laughed. It was bitter and ugly and it was something that you never wanted to hear again. “Yeah, I know that you’ve been spending all your time with him,” he looked at his fingers. “He’s dangerous, y/n, I–”

“Dangerous? Chenle, he is not dangerous!” Your boyfriend scoffed again and you couldn’t believe that you were arguing over your new friend. You were so over it. At that point you just wanted to curl up in bed and try to sleep, maybe your dreams could offer some happiness. In the heat of the moment you said, “Hyunjin makes time for me. Which is more than I can say about you.”

“I make time for you, y/n.” Chenle answered, eyes hard.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” you retorted, “I haven’t seen you in weeks! And now that we can actually be together, we’re arguing! Gods, Chenle!” You sighed heavily. “I think you should go. We can talk when we’ve both cooled down.”

Your boyfriend stared at you intensely, a tick in his jaw, before nodding curtly at you. The moment he left, you fell back on your couch. The night was a disaster and you would definitely need to talk to clear the air, but for now you would eat some of the cupcakes you bought earlier and watch some romcom movies.

Beans curled up by your feet and you bent down to scratch behind her ear, holding back the tears that were welling in your eyes. She has been weirdly silent recently. While she was no means a chatterbox, she did enjoy adding comments every now and again. It often had you stifling a giggle so that your customers wouldn’t know that your familiar feeding you her opinion of them in your mind. She was a fiery one and you loved her for it.

Two hours into your romcom movie marathon, you vaguely heard the door open. Strangely, the wards you placed hadn’t alerted you that someone was at the door like it normally did. Maybe the boys were pranking you again, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Honey, is that you?” You called out, pausing the movie. Secretly, you hoped that it was. You wanted so badly to make up with him, the guilt had began eating you up minutes after he left your apartment. “Chenle?”

‘Guess again.’

You had time to let out a scream before you became unconscious.

When you woke up, your eyes had trouble adjusting in the darkness. Your mind raced. Chenle was right. Hyunjin was dangerous. Why hadn’t you listened to him? What did the telepath even want from you? You had nothing to your name apart from your small store. Unless he was actually targeting your boyfriend. You felt faint at the thought.

The shackles on your wrists were cool against your skin as was the metal chair you were confined in. You mumbled an incantation in hopes that you could escape which resulted in nothing. The shackles were most likely created with something that disabled your magick. A curse escaped your lips.

When the door opened, the lights turned on and you saw Hyunjin step inside with the a group of people that you vaguely recognized as the men he introduced you to before. You regarded them coldly but gave the telepath a look of betrayal.

The man himself smirked at you as he began to ramble, something that was reminiscent of a villain’s monologue that was shown in children’s movies. The other boys were in agreement with him as he told you about his plan of getting close to you and then, once he had gained your trust, would swipe you away from Chenle. This plan that he created was made for petty reasons, mostly to do with the fact that he wanted to see your boyfriend, his long-time opponent, crumble to pieces.

By the time he finished, you were left speechless. Did he really want Chenle to fail so bad? Why couldn’t he just take it as healthy competition? Before you could even open your mouth to say something, anything, there was a cloud of smoke by the door and there was Chenle in all his glory. His eyes were glowing like they always did when he used his magick. From behind him, you could see the rest of the boys, their colorful hair a comforting sight.

They made quick work of defeating the small crowd that Hyunjin was with, Chenle was especially lethal and in all the years that you knew him, all the years that you were together, you never once saw him like that–scarily cold and ruthless. By the time he reached you, he wasted no time breaking the shackles and hoisting you in his arms even though you were perfectly capable with walking. With a nod to your friends, he apparated the two of you out of there.

Neither of you made a sound as Chenle made another round of checking you for any injuries. You sustained none except for the slight discoloration on your wrists which was fine because you were able to accelerate your healing by making some tea with a lot of the herbs that you owned.

“I’m alright honey,” you assure for the nth time. “No injuries.”

“Still,” he muttered, “I could’ve lost you.”

You grabbed his balled fists in your hands and pressed a kiss into his knuckles. “But you didn’t,” another kiss and then, “now, we need to talk about our argument and how you knew Hyunjin was dangerous.”

Chenle frowned. “You were right about me not spending time with you anymore. And I’m sorry I started the argument. I found that you were hanging out him with all the time and I got jealous. I also just knew that when the two of you came in together during the award ceremony that something was wrong. Especially when you said that your day was horrible. Hyunjin has been experimenting with dark magick recently but I wasn’t sure until I caught him working on his upcoming project.”

“Oh,” that was a bit of a shock and your mind was getting dizzy at the sudden turn of events. “Well, I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty awful stuff that I didn’t mean. I don’t mind that we don’t see each other as much because I know that your work is important but it gets lonely, you know?”–he nodded–“And I should have listened to you when you said something was off about him.” Beans walking around Chenle’s legs, like she was begging for attention and the sight of her made you frown. “Do you think he did something to Beans? She hasn’t been speaking to me recently. Or, well, since Hyunjin entered the shop.”

“Yeah, possibly. I can ask Jeno to check on her tomorrow?”

“Please.”

“I’m going to take this weekend off,” Chenle announced, peering at you through his lashes, “we should go on a date.”

A smile blossomed on your face and you jumped at him to capture him in a hug. “Of course!” When you began babbling about the different things you wanted to do, he let out a small laugh. It was the one he did whenever he was amused and it sounded like music to your ears.

As the two of you curled up on the couch, Beans hiding somewhere, Chenle repeatedly pressed kisses to your cheek as he wrapped his arms tightly around you which made you feel warm.

#THE CHENLE REQUEST IS FINALLY HERE #sorry if u dont like it #not @ me using hyunjin as the villain im sorry but go stream stray kidz wkdkdkek #honestly yall can never tear away supernatural/fantasy genre away from me #i live and breathe for it amdjekekdkkd #am i happy with this? idk ://#for now i guess i am but i think it could use some improvement 🤔#anyway here come the tags:#nct scenarios #nct #nct au #nct dream #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct chenle #zhong chenle #chenle imagines #chenle scenarios #chenle au

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tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors · 5 years ago

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Snowmelt

a/n: hi! this is my take on the what if Eirween had kept logan au! i am hoping i can make at least one more chapter of this because i do have a plot thought out, but i am not amazing at sticking to projects fdjhal. either way i hope this is enjoyable

warnings: child abuse/neglect, hypothermia, death threats, just eirweens A+ parenting in general.

———————————————————

Leith Snowmelt’s life so far had been fine, really.

Well, OK maybe not.

Maybe that’s just what he wanted to believe.

Maybe it was more along the lines of horrible.

He spent most of his time at the edges of the forest; hidden, in the warm months between the bushes. He had learned to be quiet, still and unseen.

He only saw other faeries when his mother decided she wanted to bring him out, like a shiny piece of jewelry for special events. He had learned to be quiet when that happened too, to behave and play tricks when asked.

There always is an anger building in his chest, a tiny part that knows. He knows he was born on the equinox and only if they let him, if someone only taught him, he would be able to bend the forrest to his will.

Instead he grows silly little flowers and catches sunbeams to amuse bullies who mock him to his face.

Unseelie thought of him, at worst, as a mistake who shouldn’t have been granted with the gift of seeing the light of day, at best they thought of him as The Banshee’s pet, funny silly little thing.

Most Seelie thought of him as a lost cause.

The only time he ever did anything for himself was nicking books off school children. It wasn’t even stealing really since he usually gave something in return. Children were easy to bargain with, if you were persuasive enough and you looked childish, they often wanted stupid little things in return for their books: a charm, good luck on a test, health.

It would be so easy to trick them.

Lieth didn’t.

How pathetically Spring of him.

His mother always cast him a half amused look when she found out he was “tricking” humans.

It was the fondest look she ever gave him.

But all in all Summer and Spring were bearable, but Autumn and Winter were a whole other story.

It’s so cold and miserable, and it’s pitiful how much he missed the sun.

Some Seelie hibernate, or at least stay inside, cover themselves. Snowmelt’s mother will not let him, as if he could learn to be Winter purely by her stubbornness.

So it was his 12th year of life and he has his worst month yet.

His mother seemed to become more unhappy with him by the day. The other Unseelie seemed to lose interest in her little pet, he was not sure what they would do to him if they got bored. Worst of all he had, although only fleetingly, caught the attention of the Serpent King. Only brief amused glances at revels, but Snowmelt knew very well that could bring him nothing but trouble.

Then a blizzard hit’s Wickhills, covering everything in a thick layer of snow.

Snowmelt is downright miserable, and very aware of the bitter irony of his name.

His mother fought with him, well it wasn’t really a fight, mostly she was angry at him.

Somewhere deep down there is a growl in him, “I could take you”, that part of him says.

But right now he is paralized, right now there is a blizzard outside and the sky is dark.

“I gave you life, Lieth,” she said.

He was sure that is the first time she has called him that, the first time anyone has called him that.

“I can take it too, Snowmelt.”

She had never been quite so direct, she bares her teeth in a mockery of a laugh, and suddenly he feels so very small.

So Snowmelt runs, runs through the cold forrest, through the snow. He runs until he can’t feel his legs anymore.

He runs until he is not sure what precisely he is running from anymore, but he can’t stop, he can’t even think about going back.

He runs all the way to the edge of the forest, where he usually reads books, hoping no one will find him.

He stops, his body giving out from underneath him.

He is immortal, he knows this, he does not remember whether or not the cold can kill him. He is, pitifully, Seelie after all.

It doesn’t really matter, he can not go either way.

How stupidly weak of him.

——————–

Thomas Sanders had a relatively average life, or well, as average as it can be growing up in Wickhills.

His mom was maybe a little more protective than was strictly necessary, but really with fae all around, who could blame her.

Anyway, on this particular day she had let him go out in the snow, she had said she was coming outside to join him in a second and for now he should stay in the street.

Thomas was absolutely delighted with all the snow, it was the most he had seen in his life, it was just too pretty.

Then he made a turn at the end of the street, suddenly he was at the edge of the forest.

Which was definitely not were the edge of the forest should be.

To his credit Thomas only panicked a little bit, mostly he was annoyed he had been pixie-led from his own street, and quickly started turning his coat inside out.

And then he saw him.

A Faery, or well a child.

He looked only a little older than thomas, 14 maybe? But he was also small, and a frankly alarming shade of shade of pale blue.

And Thomas just could not shake the feeling that he was frozen and surely hurt.

Thomas could say that what he did next was because leaving the fae there certainly would have left him with some terrible curse.

But something had brought Thomas there. And seeing his face his heart broke.

So he ignored all common sense and logic, finished taking his coat off and wrapped the boy in it.

He lifted him- he was so light it could absolutely not be healthy- and he sprinted home.

Only later he will be concerned about whether or not the rest of the town saw him.

In the moment he could only think that the boy in his arms might be seriously hurt or dying.

He, somehow, clumsily rang his doorbell.

Only when he sees his mother’s baffled face logic rushed back to him and realised that this was so terribly foolish.

He looked down at the boys placid face.

With the best puppy dog eyes he looked back at his mom.

“He is hurt, moma.” he said pleading.

She sighed and shook her head.

“Get inside Tommybug it’s cold,” she looked at the fae boy in his arms and looked back at her sons pleading eyes, “get them inside too, quickly.”

Thomas smiled and they gently carried him inside.

———

Dot Sanders was considering she might have made the worst decision in her life.

She should have been panicking, or be furious at her son or something.

She certainly shouldn’t be gently tucking the fae in the makeshift bed they had made for them on the couch.

She had called Larry immediately, he had been somehow slightly more rational about the whole situation, but ultimately decided they could not kick out an ill child.

She was in no way a medical professional, or prolific in anything magic. She wanted to call Abby, but she had picked this weekend to go on a short vacation with Roman. The idea of calling May Gage made her stomach churn.

So she did her best and wrapped the boy in slightly oversized warm clothes and turned on the heater.

She knew, although she did not know much about fae, the boy was hurt. He was quite literally frozen a dull blue gray pattern of frost implanted on his skin and he was dangerously motionless. Aside from that there were bruises, scratches, scars and something that looked suspiciously like a burn. She couldn’t help the profound ache in her chest as she added a blanket, she was a mother after all.

He made a soft slightly inhuman noise of pain.

“It’ll be alright,” she cooed, because she had gone just absolutely insane.

He groans again, and he looks so much like Thomas.

Just like her son when he gets the flu, or he scrapes his knee, or when he stayed up too late.

He looks like her students at school too.

Somehow, even if she knows he could be hundreds of years old, she knows he is just a child.

She runs her fingers through his hair gently and sighs.

“It will all be alright.”

——–

Snowmelt woke up in a place he did not recognize.

The room has a strange hum to it, he also had no idea what everything inside it is, except for the books. He is in clothes that are not his and give him a strange itch like feeling.

Somehow the room was hot, but he was not, he felt frozen from the inside.

He only has a few seconds of utter confusion before his thoughts were interrupted by a cheery voice.

“Oh gosh you’re awake!”

He turned to look at the human child, who smiled relieved and bright at him.

Snowmelt wanted to yell, or run, or something. He could not. Why?

The child frowned a bit.

“It’s alright if you don’t wanna talk, you must still be hurt, mom says you got some form of hypothermia.”

Fantastic, hypothermia.

“Well anyway, I am-”

“No” he manages, his voice rough.

The human shaked his head.

“Right, faery, sorry.”

Snowmelt wondered what his mother would think of him, refusing a mortals name like that.

Pathetic probably.

“You can call me Bug, my mom calls me that sometimes,” he said somehow still upbeat. “Is there anything I can call you?”

He stayed silent, baffled at this child’s lack of manners and common sense and just the entire situation really.

The child nods anyway.

“Ok,” he said, “do tell me if you need anything, mom and dad will be home in a second, they just went to get stuff for dinner.”

He wondered what kind of parents left their child with a fae, but then he tried to stand up and his body felt like he was being stabbed by needles. He went lightheaded and he noticed his body was littered with something that looked like frost.

He was completely harmless.

Great, perfect really.

————

The parents did come home soon, and they were…kind?

He did understood less about the whole situation by the second.

They explained that they had found him, and saved him, for reasons Snowmelt really did not understand.

The mother, who told him she could call her Dory, something Bug seemed to find endlessly amusing, well she was fussing over him, she even brought him flower tea he was petulantly refusing to drink, she seemed to not be aware of food rules in fairy courts, and generally seemed to be trying to care for him.

The dad, who the child insisted he called Merlin, was just a little bit weary, but still offered no protest to there being an actual fae in his house.

There must be something, Snowmelt thought, something they want. A blessing? A gift? Simply to keep him imprisoned?

Whatever it was, they had not asked, yet.

After a while they left him to rest, and with much pain he reluctantly drank the tea, which was very good and seemily did not curse him or imprison him further.

From his place on the couch he saw the snow still falling outside and wondered in just how much trouble he was.

---

V: oh! my!! goodness!!! GRACIOUS!!!!! this is so SWEET and the Dory-and Marlin joke was an adorbale little cherry on top of this wonderful sundae that i absolutely love

#longpost #laoft fic #not mine #laoft logan #laoft thomas #submission

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bazzybelle · 5 years ago

Text

Carry On Countdown - Day 20

Notes: While looking at some Greek Myths/Ovid, I read the stories of Perseus and Medusa. I decided to change it up a little. Bear in mind, I’ve taken A LOT of liberties with this story. I also want to turn this into a long-form fic, but we’ll see (I have many ideas… it’s a problem). Title and lyrics are adapted (had to add words because Greek is funny like that) /translated from the song “Den Eho Matia Gi’Alli” by Thanos Petrelis.

Final note, happy birthday to my husband, who’s been encouraging me to write again and who helped me with the song’s translation.

I gotta go now and do my annual Christmas cookie baking (10 different kinds of cookies, Morgana help me).

Thank you to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for the continued writing support and beta-reads and for listening to my wild plots and ideas. I value your input and friendship immensely.

TW: Involuntary movement, depictions of pain.

Day 20 Prompt: FairyTale/Myth Retelling

Title: Den Eho Matia Gi’Allo - I have Eyes for No Other Boy

________________________________________________________________

I have eyes for no other [boy], I’ve told you. The beginning, the middle, the end: You are [my] all. [My] ocean; [My] earth and [my] heaven to.

BASIL

It is a long walk to get to the Holy Temple of Athena. It is on the outskirts of the city. I do not mind the walk, for it is an honour to serve the goddess, as my mother had, and as many of my ancestors had before her.

It is said that the Pitch family had been blessed by Athena generations ago. One of my ancestors once offered the goddess shelter during a great storm, while the goddess was disguised. The story was that she had been turned away at every corner, except at the home of Vasilios Pitch (whom I was named for). Because of his wisdom and generosity, Athena decreed that every first born from his line would be blessed with wisdom. A sure sign of this gift lay in our famous grey eyes; Athena’s grey eyes of wisdom. Vasilios had been given these eyes as a token of the goddess’ favor, and all of his descendants possessed them as well, including my mother, and myself.

I slowly make my way down the paved road, satchel in hand. The satchel is full of offerings, as well as texts that I wish to read while in the temple. I had been chosen, almost a year ago, to resume the duties of caring for the Temple as well as maintaining the cultural festivities associated with the goddess of wisdom. Today’s duties include sweeping the floors, cleaning the altar of any offerings, and lighting the lanterns that grace the corridors of the Temple.

I adjust my heavy chiton (I am always freezing, despite the warm climate of my island) and hurry closer to the Temple. I am eager to begin my duties. I am ashamed to admit that I had not been inside the Temple for a few days. This was on an account of my drive to pursue philosophical knowledge. My family is blessed with wisdom, so why shouldn’t I try to obtain as much as I can? I do feel guilty about neglecting my duties, but I will make it up to the goddess. I shall remain within the Temple for the following week. My dear friend, Simon, is planning on visiting me in order to bring me some light nourishment to last the week. He is always concerned for me, and whether I ate enough. I had convinced him to spend some time with me during his visits. I always cherish the time we spend together. Almost as much as I cherish Simon, himself.

I know something terrible has happened as I arrive at the Temple’s entrance. The lanterns are shattered on the ground, the offerings to Athena are strewn all over the floor. Mud has been thrown upon her sacred altar. Worse of all, the sacred statue of Athena is completely desecrated. It is imperative that the Holy goddess remain clothed at all times, but this statue is completely naked.

I drop my satchel in shock and fall to my knees. Who could have done such a thing!? Why would anyone risk the goddess’ wrath?

I run my fingers through my hair in despair. I should have been here! I should have prevented this from happening! I had one duty that stood above all others. Protect the Temple. Protect the goddess’ dignity. I had failed. I failed and I know exactly what is about to happen. The stormy-eyed goddess does not take personal insults lightly.

As if on cue, I hear the distinct “hoot-hoot” of an owl behind me. I take a deep breath and stand up gracefully. With a bowed head, I turn to face the owl; to face my punishment. The owl screeches at me and dives towards me, talons outstretched. I throw myself to the floor, to avoid being hurt, as the owl lands on the goddess’ statue. I watch in wonder and horror as the owl begins to glow and melt onto the marble. A white-hot blaze envelopes the statue, so hot that I have to shield my eyes. From the flames steps Athena herself, fully clothed, with the owl perched on her shoulder. She has a sword in her hand, and a shield on her back. I stare at her in admiration and awe. Athena shoots out a hand towards me, her voice, while calm, sends a boom throughout the Temple.

“You will stand and show respect to Pallas Athena!”

Compelled by the supernatural force of the furious deity, my body shoots straight up. My head involuntarily strains to match my grey eyes with those of the goddess. I can feel the force tugging at my heart, coercing me towards Athena. She grips my face in her celestial hand. I can feel the heat radiating off of her. I feel tears beginning to well in my eyes.

“You betrayed me.” She speaks in such a calm voice. I feel my stomach freezing over. Athena keeps an iron-hard grip on my face. Even if I could move away from her, I do not want to for I am at fault for this.

Instead, I whisper, “I am sorry.”

“You have destroyed my Temple.” Her eyes start to peer down at me. They bear into my own eyes, and I can swear she is staring right into my soul.

“No… no I-”

“SILENCE! By giving into your hubris, Basil, you’ve neglected your duties! My Temple is destroyed! My image defiled!” Athena gives me a look of disgust. It is enough for me to fall further into remorse. I can no longer prevent the soft tears from falling down my face.

“Forgive me, goddess.” I beg her. Athena simply shakes her head. She releases me from her grip and I crumple onto the floor. Athena kneels down in front of me and places her hand on top of my head.

“You will have to be punished. I have given your family the great gift of my wisdom and you have spat on it.” A bright light erupts from the palm of her hand. It completely engulfs me. As the light surrounds me, I begin to feel an icy-cold sensation spreading over my body. I begin to convulse, pain shooting across all my limbs. I start gasping for air, squeezing my hands shut.

Athena holds still and proceeds.

“You are hereby banished from this island. Your new form will live amongst others like your kind.” I start to scream as I feel my body beginning its metamorphosis. My hair, once long, soft, and raven-black becomes a tangled mess of hissing, slithering snakes. They begin to bite and nab at each other, tugging painfully at my skull. My skin, normally a beautiful, shimmering reddish-copper tone, loses all its colour and lustre. I become pallid and grey, patches of tiny charcoal-coloured scales spread over my body. My teeth begin to sharpen and elongate, filling my mouth. The pain is agonizing, and I pray for it to stop, but the ill-tempered goddess is not yet finished.

“You will no longer be able to cast your eyes upon another human. To gaze at you will be their undoing.” Athena places her hand over my eyes and my vision began to cloud. All colours escape me, replaced by greys and blacks. My eyes, once a mesmerizing sea-grey colour, now turn a sickly yellow, mimicking those of a basilisk. With the energy of my transformation still vibrating over my body, I start to heave, clutching at my chest. Athena moves her hand to my chin and holds it tight, forcing me to look at her. She finishes off the remainder of her curse.

”Many will try to kill you, they shall not succeed, until the very last one. The one you love the most. He shall kill you or he shall save you. This is my punishment for you, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.” A searing white-hot pain consumes me and I feel myself slipping into darkness. Athena’s livid grey eyes are the last thing I see before I let go.

______

FIVE YEARS LATER

SIMON

“I have accomplished every task you have asked of me. You owe me your sacred sword!” I point an accusing finger at the aging king before me. I feel my curly hair shake with every movement.

I have been endlessly travelling across practically every Hellenic island. My travels have brought me to the island of Seriphos and to the court of King Polydectes. I’ve come here in order to obtain a sacred sword crafted by father Zeus himself. It is unlike any other sword in existence. It is crafted out of unbreakable material, adamantine. If I have the sword, it will be the final piece to my armour. I need that sword if I want to find my friend, the friend I’ve dreamt about every night.

I’ve been on this quest for almost five years. Ever since I arrived to the Temple of Athena on the outskirts of my village to find the Temple destroyed and Basil missing. The only clue that indicated that Basil had even been to the Temple was his disturbed satchel on the ground. It’s the very same satchel that I now carry with me wherever I go. It’s my only connection to Basil, until I find him and bring him home.

The king rubs his long snowy-white beard and furrows his eyebrows. He snaps his fingers at one of his attendants. “Bring me my sacred harpe sword”. He then looks directly at me.

“You may be a mighty fine warrior and hero Mister Snow, but your arrogance will be the death of you. You may have my sword, but after completing one final task.”

I growl. I’m tired of being constantly tested! Have I not proven myself time and time again that I am a worthy warrior? I’m tired of wasting time. I may know that Basil is still alive, but the more time I waste completing these ridiculous tasks, the more time Basil is left on his own. I take a deep breath and pull my shoulders back.

“Fine. what task would you have me complete this time?” I demand. The old king gives me a sly smile. It sends a shiver down my spine. Whatever task Polydectes has for me, it won’t be an easy one. The king places his hands together and explains his problem.

“As you know, Mister Snow, my city has been engaged in a small war with the neighbouring island for quite some time. My people are tired of the blood and the loss of life. They want this war over, and they want it over quickly.”

“What does this have to do with me?” I ask, arms crossed over my chest.

“Legend has it, that a creature exists in one of the caves at the far end of the island. The sailors who frequent the island call it the Cave of the Gorgons.”

My mouth gapes open. The old man was finally starting to go batty. The Gorgons were legendary monsters. They were nearly impossible to kill, being that they were demi-gods. The king was about to send me on a suicide mission.

“Gorgons? You want me to kill a Gorgon? That’s impossible!”

I decide, at that moment, that I am through with Polydectes and his nonsense. I would find some other way to find Basil. I turn on my heels and am about to walk out of the throne room when I hear the calm, arrogant voice of the king behind me.

“Not if one is mortal.”

I stop dead in my tracks. I slowly turn back to the king. I stare at him in confusion. I have never heard of a mortal Gorgon before. I wonder what unfortunate turn of events caused that anomaly to occur. Now, this is interesting.

“Mortal?”

The king raises an eyebrow at me, and I hate it. It reminds me too much of Basil. Polydectes rises from his throne and steps towards me.

“Legends say that one of the Gorgons is mortal. This one in particular supposedly has the power to turn whole armies into stone with a glance. I have sent warrior after warrior to fetch me the head of the beast, but none have returned.”

And there it is. So it is a suicide mission after all.

“And you expect me to be able to accomplish what others more skilled than myself have been unable to do?”

Polydectes shakes his head and laughs. I shudder as the king speaks. “You do have an edge over the others before you, Mister Snow.”

A long crooked finger points at the items on my person. Aside from Basil’s satchel, I have also obtained other divine items. Items that have aided me throughout my many trials and tribulations.

The first is the shield I carry on my back. It’s the only other item I found within the Temple. I don’t know where it came from, nor who it belonged to, but it was made of a perfectly polished steel. To look upon it was akin to looking at your reflection in a mirror.

When I began my quest, I first needed to know if Basil was still alive, or if he had crossed over into the Underworld. In order to do this, I needed to find the Underworld’s entrance. To do that, I required the help of Hermes, messenger to the gods of Olympus. He was the only one who could travel freely between Mount Olympus, Earth, and the Underworld.

It was not easy to get the lively god to pay attention to me. I had spent two years chasing the trickster god. Hermes would not help me at first, stating that to help me would be go against one much more powerful and vengeful. As Hermes took flight, I had grabbed onto one of his winged shoes. As much as Hermes tried to shake me off, I was relentless. Eventually, the winged-god surrendered. He told me that he’d admired my tenacity. So he offered me his Winged Sandals, as well as directions on how to enter the land of the dead. I would have to ask Hades himself if Basil was there.

It took me almost another full year to reach the River Styx, even with the aid of the Winged Sandals. From there, I made my way to the court of Lord Hades and Lady Persephone. It had not been easy, and I still have the scars I obtained from my fight with Cerberus. But I made it. Frustratingly, Hades had no time for me and refused to even listen to my story. Persephone, on the other hand, had been more gentle. She told me that she would help me find my lost love.

I had tried to argue with the Queen of the Underworld. Basil was my best friend. He was like a brother to me. We had grown up together, we protected each other, and we would always be there for one another, through anything and everything. But I didn’t love him. And besides, even if I did, Basil was far above in status to me. He would never be interested in me.

Persephone was not convinced, but she still offered her help. She had confirmed that Basil was indeed still alive, but that he was balancing on a dangerous thread between his humanity and the demons that plagued him. When I asked her what she meant, Persephone refused to clarify, saying that I needed to figure that out for myself. Before I left, Persephone offered her husband’s Helm of Invisibility, as well as the recommendation that I seek out King Polydectes on the island of Seriphos. There, I could find a blade that would help me rescue Basil. She also left me a warning: “Everything is not what it seems Simon. Remember to look before you strike.”

I didn’t think much of it as I left the Realm of the Dead. While I am typically the type of warrior to dive into a fight without a second thought, I always make sure my swings are powerful and sure. Besides, I had to focus on my next destination; The island of Seriphos.

It was on this island where I remained for the next two years, fulfilling task after task in order to obtain this blasted sword. It was the final piece I was missing. If all it took was to kill one mortal Gorgon, I would do it. Deep down I know that even if I have to kill a million Gorgons, I would do it for Basil. No questions or reservations about it.

I look back to the wrinkled king before me. I stick out my chin, determination apparent over my face. I hold out my hand to the king, ready to shake on the deal. Polydectes smiles at me and grabs my hand.

“Excellent.” The servant arrives right on time. They are carrying what looks like a sword, but it has a small hook-like protrusion at around the midpoint of the blade. The material was unlike any other that I have seen. Polydectes takes the sword from the servant and offers it to me.

The sword feels so light in my hands. It’s perfectly balanced and fits perfectly in my grasp. It’s as if the hilt of the sword shifts to match its yielder. The blade gleams in the light of the palace. It’s mesmerizing to say the least.

“This sword, as you know, was crafted by Hephaestus himself for Zeus. Father Zeus bequeathed this sword to my grandfather, and it has remained in my family since then. Bring me the head of the Gorgon, and the sword shall be yours.”

I remove my own sword from its sheath. It has served me well over the last five years, but I need to offer it up as some sort of collateral. I offer it to Polydectes. He nods as the servant takes the sword. I sheath my brand new weapon and back away from the king.

The Gorgons’ cave lay on the Southwestern part of the island. I do not feel the need to pack many provisions, considering the short distance to the caves. I pack enough food for a few days and set off on yet another journey.

The entrance to the cave is wide and intimidating. I peer inside, but there isn’t much to behold, save for a rows of torches on either side. Before stepping inside, I remember to take off my shield. If the Gorgon’s eyes could turn a man into stone, I would have to be extra prudent while exploring. I strap the shield to my forearm, and proceed forward, eyes glued to the reflection.

As I wander deeper, I find myself completely surrounded by perfect stone statues. Each statue created with a look or horror and agony. My heart nearly stops as I think about the final moments of these unfortunate men. I think about the fear and possible agony these heroes must have felt. That is enough to convince that I may be in way over my head.

I carry on. Grey eyes, and a sparkling smile fill my thoughts. For Basil. I have to do this for Basil.

Before proceeding further, I extract the Helm of Invisibility from the satchel. A cold shiver travels down my spine as I place it on my head and disappear. I don’t want this monster sneaking up on me.

Closer and closer, I know the beast is near-at-hand. I can feel it. There is a light thrum in the air, as if I was meant to be here. I write it off as the work of whatever supernatural deity was responsible for creating the Gorgon.

Finally, I see it. In the corner of the reflection of my shield, I notice a pair of long sickly grey legs. They are covered in dark scaly patches.

Finally, this was it.

I creep closer and closer. The legs lead up to a torso, slowly rising and falling. He’s asleep. Good. This should be easy.

Closer and closer. The torso transitions to a long graceful neck.

The creature’s face is more grotesque than I could ever imagine. While his mouth was closed, I can see a few sharp, long teeth sticking out. The grey scales nearly cover his face in patches, but it was the Gorgon’s hair that causes me to tightly grip the hilt of my sword. Dozens of sleeping snakes cover the beast’s head.

I pull out my sword and raise it high above my head. One strike and I’ll be that much closer to Basil. Before bringing the blade down, I hear a loud voice in my head:

Look before you strike, Simon! Everything is not what it seems!

I stop just as the blade is about to behead the sleeping monster. I pull my sword back and take another closer look at the peaceful figure.

This isn’t a monster.

It certainly looks like a monster, but something about the way he sleeps, soft eyelashes cascading past his gentle lids, tells me that this beast is more than what he seems. The shape of his face; the sharp edges that I never thought I’d see again. This was the same face that I could not stop dreaming about, and wishing I could feel again. I think back to those beautiful grey eyes, and the wide sparkling smile.

Can it… can it be? It… it can’t be... No...

The realization hits me with a force of thousand bricks. Finally, I’ve found him! I drop the sword and gasp out.

“Basil?!”

_____

BASIL

I hear something clattering that rouses me from my sleep. My eyes burst open and I leap to my feet. Another warrior sent to kill me? Honestly, I cannot find it in myself to care anymore. At this point I am about to offer up my head willingly.

I am tired. Five years of colourless, hopeless existence, is enough to drive me to near madness. I have begun to wish that someone would take me out of my misery. I have even stopped trying to fight the warriors that came to defeat me. But bloody hell, were they ever so useless and thick! I have been able to petrify them without even trying or meaning to. The more innocent men I killed, the more I felt like a monster.

I started to sleep more. If I was sleeping, and my eyes were closed, I couldn’t kill anyone. But not even that worked! These warriors were so brutish and clumsy, that I often woke just before they killed me. So I’ve hidden myself deeper and deeper in my cave, hoping that someone would relieve me of my miserable life.

The goddess’ curse has been a cruel one, but one that I felt I deserved. I have had five years to think about the mistakes I made in my short life, and the regrets that I still carried with me. Only one thought gave me a tiny morsel of hope. A tiny morsel of hope that I clung onto when the days grew darker and colder.

The one you love the most. He shall kill you or he shall save you.

Amidst my world of grey and black, I held onto the image of blue eyes and bronze curls. The blue eyes and bronze curls of my childhood friend. My companion during my life. The person that I am convinced I love dearly. The one I love the most.

Simon.

Simon will be the one to kill me and I will love him from beyond this mortal coil, from wherever my soul should end up; Whether it be Tartarus or The Underworld. All I hoped for, was to be able to see him one more time before I meet my doom. Hopefully from a distance, so that I could not harm him. Then, after seeing Simon one last time, I will shut my eyes and approach him, with a bowed head.

For now, I have to deal with yet another idiot who could not even kill a sleeping monster. I look around, but see no man in my midst. I sigh heavily and slowly carry myself towards my hall of fallen heroes (it’s what I call the petrified statues inside my cave). I call out in a bored, lethargic voice.

“If I were you, I would leave while you are still alive. As you can see, no one has managed to kill me yet. Save yourself. Whatever prize is being offered to you is simply not worth it.”

I hear the sound of someone clearing their throat to my right. I close my eyes and turn my head. The person who had cleared their throat begins to talk.

“I have blindfolded myself. My sword is on the ground. I wish to talk to you. I’m stepping out.”

I cautiously open my eyes to see a young man stepping out from behind one of the frozen soldiers. As promised, he was blindfolded and unarmed. I furrow my brows and cross my arms. “I do not wish to talk. I wish for you to leave me be.”

“Just answer me one question. One question and I’ll leave you alone.” I choke out a half-laugh and a half sigh. But, I relent. I have nothing else better to do today.

“One question.”

“Do you remember me, Basil?” I feel the blood in my veins stop cold. No one has referred to me by my real name in years. The sudden change in my emotions causes the snakes to become unsettled. A few already have begun to pull at my skull.

“What?” I ask, I am unsure if I truly want the answer.

“Do you remember how we played as children? How you would relentlessly insult me?” The young man starts to step closer to me. The snakes in my hair continue to hiss and thrash wildly. I try to calm them down, but they sometimes have a mind of their own, and my feelings are linked to theirs. I want to back away, but I am frozen in place. The young man reaches blindly for my hand, I tentatively move my hand out and gently touch his. It’s warm. So very warm. And rough, he’s done a lot of fighting it seems. He asks another question.

“Do you remember how I would bring you food whenever you spent too much time in the library?” I start to lose my breath as the man gently cups my cheek in his hand. A shiver runs down my spine and I feel goosebumps on my scaled arms. It’s been too long since I felt another gentle touch. Too long since I have felt him.

Is it really him?

The snakes have started to calm down. They know he is supposed to be here. I lean into his touch, tears brimming my eyes. I nod slightly. He continues. He speaks softly, almost whispering.

“Do you remember how I promised I would never abandon you? How you promised you would never abandon me either, even when you were chosen to serve Athena? Do you remember me, Basil?” His voice cracks a little at the end. But I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s here. After so long. I nod at him. He reaches with his other hand and gently holds my face in his hands. He presses his forehead to my own. I place my hands over his.

“Simon…” I breathe out.

I want to say more, but I feel soft lips on my own. I close my eyes and lean into his kiss. It feels so good, so right. I feel his warmth spreading all over my body and I sigh into him. I pray to the gods above that my teeth do not hurt him. I can feel the tears spilling down my face. I have missed him. His face, his hands, his smile, his eyes. Gods, have I missed him.

Simon keeps kissing me and caressing my face. My heart breaks for I know he has to kill me soon. For a few seconds more, I want to enjoy this. I want to remain here with Simon forever. I never want to let him go.

I love him. I’ve always loved him.

Simon breaks the kiss and gently rubs his thumbs over my eyelids. I am so scared to open my eyes. I don’t want to risk his blindfold falling, or for Simon to tempt fate and look at me. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. It’s gotten so much longer, but it still feels so soft and bounces softly through my fingers. He takes my hands in his and plants a soft kiss on my knuckles. He rests his forehead on mine.

“I have you, Basil. I am never letting you go again.” He is holding so tightly to me, I almost believe him.

I am so entranced, that I do not notice that my snakes have stopped tugging wildly at my head. I do not notice that the teeth in my mouth have started to change. I still refuse to open my eyes. It can’t be real. It isn’t real. Simon reaches up and tempts fate. I feel the fabric of his blindfold fall away. I keep my eyes shut. I hear him gasp.

“I know… I know… Look away from me.” I violently bow my head down and try to turn away from him. I am so ashamed, I cannot bear to have him look at me like this. Like a monster. But Simon, bless the idiot, pulls me back and lifts my chin towards him.

“No… no Basil! Your skin. It’s not grey or scaly anymore! The snakes are gone! You look like yourself again. Basil, love, open your eyes. You’re alright.” I shake my head wildly. Simon is running his hand down my face, wiping the tears that will not stop falling.

“I’ll kill you. Simon, I’ll kill you if I open them. I’d rather die.” I croak out. I can handle years of solitude and loneliness. I can handle being responsible for the ruination of my city’s temple. I can even handle the shame I’ve brought upon my family. I can handle all of it, because I know that Simon is alive. Simon is alive. If he were to die... If he were to die, I would soon follow him.

Simon pulls my head closer to him. I feel kisses on both of my eyelids. His fingers are softly combing my hair back. His other hand has travelled to my hand and has gripped it. His thumb is running across my knuckles. He whispers to me.

“Basil… open your eyes. I’ve dreamt of seeing your stormy greys again for five years. Please, let me see them.”

“And if I kill you?”

“You won’t. I promise, you won’t”

I bow my head down and slowly open my eyes. I can see the dark ground. I think I see specks of browns and greens, but I must be imagining it. Simon is still holding my hand, still running his fingers through my hair.

“Keep going, love.” He murmurs. I take a deep breath and start to raise my head, I let out a small whimper, because I can see the browns and golds of Simon’s sandals. They also have tiny silver wings at the back. I refuse to believe that this is happening. It was not supposed to happen like this. He was supposed to kill me, not save me.

I take the risk and raise my head a little further. His tawny skin is shining among the many lit torches. Tiny brown freckles crowd his arms, and a constellation of moles dot his body. I place my hand on his chest.

My hand! It’s back to the copper colour it used to be! Simon starts to laugh with joy. He places his hand beneath my chin.

“Basil, may I?” I nod.

He lifts my face to meet his. After five long years, I see his blue eyes. Blue eyes that, to anyone else, would seem absolutely normal. But to me, to me, they’re the most beautiful shade of blue I have ever seen. I see them beginning to become cloudy. I start to panic, but see that they’re cloudy because tears started to fall. He starts to laugh. He looks at me adoringly.

“You’re beautiful”. He says as he kisses me again.

Aphrodite in heaven, I’m living a charmed life.

[You brought] Sound and picture, music and colour, in my black and white silence. It was my good luck that I found you [love]. That I met you in this life.

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crazyrandomfucker · 5 years ago

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Marichat May Day 11: Chat Blanc

Summary:

What do two cats covered in flour do accidentally? An ill-timed joke that will trigger the hell out of two designers

----------------------

It was meant to be a funny joke, nothing too serious or that would offend anyone. The cats didn't expected such a reaction from Marin and Marinette, they had no ill intent towards the adorable designers and their joke wasn't anything that strange or offensive. Everything begun a week earlier, when Chat Noir and Kitty Noire were invited by a TV program and were officially dared to test their cooking abilities by filming a video while cooking something. Of course, as the secretly sheltered twins they were, their cooking skills where almost non-existant, so they went to ask for some help to their favourite civilians whose parents were the best bakers in all Paris. They asked Tom and Sabine if they could manage to teach them something easy enough to prove themselves, but the bakers couldn't because they had quite a busy week, so Marin and Marinette offered to help them.

They established a day to practice and then film the video and on that they both cats came punctually. Marin brought the to their kitchen and explain what recipe they would be making while Marinette brought the ingredients for them. The recipe they were making was certainly easy since it was a simple chocolate cake with nuts, which was almost like a big brownie. Marinette explained them how to use the different items of the kitchen, from the oven to the whisk rod, emphazising on the importance of having a good rythm when mixing the ingredients on the bowl. After that, Marin gave them a quick review of the recipe and explained some of the points they should pay special attention to, like not messing the order of the ingredients or at what temperature should they set the oven to.

"Wow, I'm no chef but with this explanations I'm feeling confident on baking this cake" says Chat Noir.

"I would even say that thanks to you two thi will be a piece of cake" puns Kitty and the designers roll their eyes amused.

"You shouldn't get too confident, aything can happen in a kitchen when you less expect it" warns them Marin.

"Could it happen that Marinette kisses me while I'm mixing the ingridients with my raw cooking charms?" asks Kitty winking to Marinette.

"Maybe it could, maybe my brother will suddenly Chat, being absorbed by his cooking ailities" replies Marinette.

"Oh yes please" says Kitty. "Nothing better than some yaoi in the kitchen".

"Please stop it you two with your delusions of gayness" says Marin deadpanning.

"Yeah, you make it sound as if Marin would be the top when I'm clearly a top and he's a bottom" says Chat.

"Chat, stop it as well with your delusions" says Marin rolling his eyes.

"Because Marin would clearly be the dominant between you two" says Kitty joking.

"Definitely. But as Marin says, we should focus a bit or you won't leave until the next month" says Marinette.

"So, what was the first step?" asks Marin.

"Preheat the oven to 180ºC and grease and line two sandwich tins" says Chat Noir.

"Exactly. Now you have to do it" says Marinette. "And after this?"

"I'll put all the cake ingredients except for the boiling water on a bowl and mix them together until smooth with this wooden spoon" says Kitty while Chat sets the oven. "Marinett, can you fetch me the flour?"

"Sure, no problem" says Marinette picking up the sack of flour as if it weight nothing. Unfortunately, she slips with a handky and throws the flour all over Chat Noir and Kitty Noire.

"Pht pht" says Chat spitting some flour. "Why thank you Princess, I guess you made me a Chat Blanc now".

"Would that make me Kitty Blanche then?" asks Kitty shaking her head to expel some of the flour.

Then, they hear a loud thump and see that Marin had let fall the bowl. But when they look at him to ask why had he let the bowl fall, they see a face of horror on him. They turn to ask Marinette what was going on with Marin, but she's cowering from them. The cats try to approach Marin and Marinette, but the designers back away from them, clearly triggered by something. Marin begins to sweat a lot while Marinette litteraly trembles on the floor, still not standing up. The cats, who are very worried about their friends, look at each other concerned and unsure of what is going on or how should they act. Marin picks up a random bag that was lying over a chair and begins to breath ith the bag on his mouth, managing to calm himself to some extent.

"Don't come close to us! Wash out the flour" says Marin and the cats quickly comply going to the bathroom and using the shower. When they return, Marin is sitting and holding his head while Marinette is curled in a ball on the floor.

"What happened? Are you okay? Is it something that we did?" asks Kitty very worried.

"It's... It's complicated" says Marin. "I'm not even sure if I should tell this to you two".

"Is it related to us?" asks Chat Noir.

"It- Is not li- I..." tries to say Marin, seemingly worried. "Yes. It is".

"Did we do anything wrong?" asks Kittyclearly cocerned. "We're sorry if we offended you in any way".

"It's not like that Kitty. You didn't do anything intentionally" says Marin troubled. "It's just that... Do you remember Bugx and Bunnix?"

"How do you know about them?" asks Chat Noir alarmed.

"Marinette and I... accompanied Ladybug and Lordbug to the future forcefully just last week, the bunny heroes closed our eyes and throwed us into the future to fix something" says Marin.

"You went to the future? Why didn't we knew this?" asks Kitty worried and alarmed.

"Because we were facing akumas..." says Marin.

"Don't tell me..." says Chat horrorized.

"It was you two. You where pure white with icy blue eyes and your names..." says Marin not looking at them. "Well, you guessed them".

"But it can't be! What happened?!" asks Kitty not believing what she's hearing.

"You... You dated Ladybug and Lordbug and knew their identities and because of something you were akumatized. It was so grim, so... Wrong to see you in that state, alone, in the verge of the last building that wasn't destroyed and under the water" explains Marin, beginning to breath harder. "We helped the bugs fighting you but it was so... bizarre. Marinette was almost killed a lot of times... I barely managed to not get cataclysmed and in the end it were the bugs who stopped you two. You were brutally fighting, but you also were pacific. You loved the bugs too much, but you also said that it was your love which destroyed Paris and the moon".

"Marin, calm down" says Chat as the boy begins to hyperventilate. "Breath in and out. We're here. We're not... going to kill you".

"It can't be... Why?" says Kitty lost in her own dreadful trance.

Everyone tried to calm down for quite a long time, each of them with their own problems. Marinette was remembering the fight once and once again in an endless loop, suffering from Chat's words and scared of how many times he tried to killed her. On the other hand, Marin was trying to forget Kitty's sadness that had emotionally scarred him permanently, as he couldn't bear to remember endlessly her pained face. Meanwhile Chat was very concerned about how could have thing developed in such a way, afraid that he had scarred forever Marinette and that he was the cause of her nightmares. And Kitty Noire... She was torn, scared of what could she had done in the future, but also pained that Marin reacted in such a way, as if he was terrified of her.

They all felt some pangs on their hearts that didn't go away no matter how hard they tried. They spent some time in silence, slowly calming themselves. Now being calmer, Marin cleaned up the mess with the flour while the cats began to make the cake once again, finding quite hard to make a joke to lighten the mood. Marinette was still a ball of nerves and her hands wouldn't stop trembling, but she managed to stand up and help a bit, but in the end she wasn't much of help and went to her bedroom. It's not necessary to say that, even if the resultant cake was quite good, the day didn't left quite a good taste on anyone's mouth, but Chat Noir and Kitty Noire still thanked their friends for helping them and worrying about them.

#marichatmay2020 #miraculous au #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #Twins!Au

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a-butterfly-on-his-tummy · 6 years ago

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Themed Weekends Presents...

A reflection from @trulymadlysydney

What does HS1 mean to me?

It took me far too long to come up with the answer to this question, and honestly I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that I don’t think I’ll ever have the words to express just how much this album, and more importantly this era, means to me. But, as most writers do, I will try my best to find the words, type and retype it, (and still overthink it), and share it in hopes that it will mean something to someone else out there, too.

To accurately express my emotions towards this album, I think I have to start from the very beginning: The announcement of SOTT. I remember exactly where I was standing-- in the tiny, cramped back room at work. (At a job that I didn’t exactly like.) I could hardly focus the rest of my shift, and my poor coworkers had to listen to me gush about how excited I was and how “You guys should really give it a chance! Like, I know he was in One Direction but like, if you actually listen to their music they have some really great stuff!” As excited as I was for the single, I don’t think I ever could have guessed exactly how much it would change my life.

This song came at a very horrible, very dark time in my life. I’ll spare you all the details, the sob story, etc etc. But the thing was, I didn’t realize just how dark a time it was. That’s the funny thing about depression (or mental illness of any kind really). It lies to you. It makes you feel so comfortably numb in your own misery until you don’t even realize how miserable you are. Your coping mechanisms can become your everyday life, to the point where you don’t even realize that you’re hardly living at all. Of course, that’s not what this post is about, but it’s worth mentioning because Sign of the Times became my biggest joy at that time.

I stayed up almost the entire night it dropped. I went on post limit TWICE in one night, (is that even possible? Apparently so!) and I felt so genuinely happy and excited for the first time in a long time. It was always playing on my phone-- in the bathroom while I showered, tucked under my pillow while I slept, on repeat in the car (despite my poor mother kindly asking if maybe I was ready to play something else now). It was all I listened to for a solid few weeks… including when something very bad happened. I had a wake up call that essentially told me that -- oh yeah, you really need to learn to take care of yourself because things aren’t so good right now. When I messed up, when I felt alone and scared, when I felt like there was no possible way I could move on or up, or ever be happy again, one thing remained-- that song was still constantly playing. Still bringing me as much joy as the first time I listened to it.

Things did get better, as things often do. Harry was on Saturday Night Live and I hid out in my room (despite my entire family visiting from out of state and spending time together-- sorry guys) and I watched his performances with a smile on my face the entire time. I think at one point (most likely during the Mick Jagger impression) I even screamed into my pillow because I had so much emotion buzzing around inside of me that I didn’t know what the heck to do with it all. I was so proud. I watched the musical performances over and over and over. And then I called my family into my room to watch them with me. I couldn’t stop smiling. I knew that this was only the start of something so huge.

And then the album came. I was at work when it dropped-- scheduled to close the shop. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, especially because I had friends blowing up my texts and anons blowing up my inbox, gushing endlessly about the album and how beyond good it was. I wasn’t driving at the time, so I begged my mom to speed home. “But mom, you don’t get it, it’s his whole ALBUM. It’s finally out!” I didn’t even change out of my work clothes when I got home, I just jumped onto my bed-- shoes, name tag, and all, and hit play.

I don’t know how many times I cried listening to it that first time through. (There’s a video somewhere, floating around the tumblr-verse, depicting in embarrassing detail my reactions to each of the songs.) But it became the album of my year. And I spent that year trying to recruit as many Harry fans as I could. To this day, there’s still no feeling quite like the absolute delight I feel when someone (friend, family, or stranger) tells me that they like his album or even just a song from it.

Sign of the Times became an anthem, a bittersweet reminder that sometimes life sucks, and it’s hard, but we’ve all been there, and we get up again and we keep trying to find our way. Kiwi became a hype song. Sweet Creature became a lullaby. Each song took on a meaning for me, each song became personal. To this day there are still some songs that I can’t listen to because I have to be in the right frame of mind.

In January 2018, I got a tattoo-- a heart drawn by Harry. A constant reminder of the love he exudes and the joy he brings to me and to so many other people. “Be a lover. Chose love. Give love. Love everyone, always.” (My tattoo artist, upon seeing the heart, gave me a funny look. “Are you sure you want it all… wonky like that?” I was almost offended.)

Because of Harry, I’ve made some of the best friends I could ever ask for. When my life was horrible and I felt alone, I had him, and I had the friends I made through tumblr. And when my life turned around, and I felt over the moon happy and excited to live every day, I still had him. And I still had my internet friends. Internet friendships can be a hard thing to explain to real-life friends, but it’s a connection that’s so beautiful and fulfilling for those lucky enough to experience it. I’ve even been blessed to meet quite a few of the online friends I’ve made in person, and it’s all thanks to Harry.

I still consider the weekend of July 13th, 2018, to be one of the best of my life. I got to see the man I’d loved for so so long, the person who--unknowingly-- got me through some of the hardest times, but also brought me so many friends. I got to hear the music that shaped the past year of my life. And I got to meet so many of the incredible people who I’d only spoken to through screens. And it was the most magical weekend of my life.

I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: There is absolutely no feeling on earth like the feeling you get from the energy inside a Harry Styles concert. When he tells you its okay to be whoever you want to be in that room, you believe him. When he tells you he loves you, you believe him. You feed off of one another’s energy, and even though you’re one of thousands of people in a sold out room, it feels personal and intimate in a way that even the most talented writer could never find the words for. Though I sat alone both nights, I felt like I was lifelong friends with every single person around me. It wasn’t scary, or intimidating, it was familiar and comforting.

I know that I may never get the chance to thank Harry in person for everything he’s done for me and for so many other people, but I think deep down he knows. He knows what he means to us, because we mean just as much to him-- and it’s apparent in the way he performs and speaks and acts. And although his meticulously planned and sometimes cryptic posts and behaviors get on our nerves sometimes, and although we may want to fight him for being such a little shit, he’s still our Harry. He’s our best friend, and we’re his.

So to answer the original question, HS1 means friendship. It means new beginnings, it means moving forward, it’s hope in times where hope seems impossible. It’s love and kindness and vulnerability and knowing you are not alone. And most importantly, it means something different to every person who listens to it. It takes a true artist to be able to do that, and I absolutely cannot wait to experience it all over again with his next album and with all of you.

#Happy2ndAnniversaryHS1 #Themed Weekends

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mask-of-prime · 6 years ago

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TLK: With a Grain of Salt

Fanfic below

Each year became increasingly dangerous for Chumvi as he progressively aged. Noticing how big and strong the adolescent had grown, Scar grew more and more paranoid. In fear of being overthrown by unrelated males, he issued a new order for the hyenas to kill any that resided in the Pridelands. He, of course, would not do it himself. In order to not raise any suspicion from the lionesses and possibly be impeached, he let the hyenas take care of it, making the deaths of the males look like an unpredictable tragedy.

Chumvi ran through the Pridelands endlessly until his sister Kula brought over her friends, Tama and Nala, to detour the hyenas and scuffle with them until he made his escape.

Meanwhile, just on the border, a lioness who had been ill from dehydration sighed in relief as she stopped by the waterhole. She hesitated at first, knowing someone may be out to protect this precious water source. Would anyone notice? No, relax, just a quick, discreet sip and she’d be on her way. She bent down to drink, unaware of the male who had picked that exact direction to run.

Chumvi’s mind repeated to itself; ‘Run. Run as fast as you can and don’t stop or even look back.’ It was precisely that constant thought clouding his senses that caused him to not realize where he was going. His body smacked right into the lioness’ own. Due to being much smaller in size than the male, the lioness flew off her feet. Shaking away the dust, the lioness sprang up and growled.

“What on earth is your problem?!” suddenly, she stopped growling.

Her ears pinned down as she laid her eyes on the large, bulky lion. Oh boy, time to get whooped by another territorial male. She kneeled in a submissive position.

“Please! I just needed a little water, I promise I won’t come back to your land agai–”

“Well you don’t need to worry about me, it’s certainly not my land anymore.” Chumvi glanced back and noticed the hyenas were off his tail. He could finally relax now.

The lioness eased her arched position. So that bump wasn’t his first attack to chase her out? She needed a clearer answer now, “Why are you here, then?” she asked.

Chumvi lowered his head, “Chased out, don’t wanna die.”

The lioness knew that feeling all too well, being unwanted, being chased away and threatened with death–

Uh-oh, another itching fit. Chumvi glanced up and observed the lioness as she scratched behind her ear and nibbled at another itchy spot. He scoffed.

“Are all you non-Pridelanders so unsanitary?”

She stopped her session, “Excuse me?”

Chumvi smirked. Lionesses were so sensitive, especially these uncivilized rogues. “Sorry, too many syllables? I’d figured it’d be too much for you since the concept of being clean is.”

The lioness simply gawped, this lion had some nerve. “Funny you call me a ‘non-Pridelander’ when you’re currently being chased out.” she stepped closer into his face, “I think we got something in common, buddy.”

Chumvi finally shut his mouth. He didn’t want to admit it, but she made a pretty good point. At least, a pretty good one for a rogue. He wondered if there was anything else she was at least knowledgeable of–

The lion noticed the lioness making her escape, walking the other direction. Like she promised herself; she was just gonna get a quick sip and scram like she usually did around territories.

“H-Hey! Where are you going?!” Chumvi frowned.

“Why do you care?”

Chumvi had nowhere else to turn at this point. Either give this woman a chance or lose your opportunity on your start to your life as a rogue. He gathered up the courage to admit he needed help from this rogue lioness.

“Wait, since you’re not from here, where were you just now?”

The lioness glanced back and forth, “Who needs to know?”

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax. I just wanna know how you got by. You know… as a rogue.”

“Promise you’re not gonna give me a hard time if I help you?”

“Y-Yeah, whatever.”

The lioness noticed this lion was beginning to accept what was becoming his new life. She smirked, satisfied that he was no longer being so stubborn. “C’mon.”

The lioness led the way. Knowing this would be a long trip, Chumvi smirked. He might as break the ice with this chick, “Name’s Chumvi, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Huzuni.”

“Pretty. A bit sad, but pretty.”

Huzuni rolled her eyes, seeing where this was going. “Aw, don’t start this mushy-gushy stuff with me. I’m just going to help you with this one thing and that’ll be it.”

Chumvi pretended to be offended, “Oh, I’d never! I wouldn’t flirt with you even if you weren’t plagued with mites!”

Huzuni rolled her eyes, “You want me to help you get out of here or not? I’ll leave you any second, now.”

Chumvi simply chuckled.

___________

The sun hung low on the horizon. The hyenas backed off from fighting the young lionesses. They no longer cared about chasing off the rogue as much as they cared for their own lives at this point, no matter how constantly hungry they were.

Kula looked back at the direction Chumvi ran, noticing he was gone from when she last looked. No battle wounds from the hyenas that she’d just received would ever hurt as much as the fact that she may not be able to see her brother again.

Just another day under the tyranny of Scar…

#TLK #The Lion King #Huzuni #Chumvi #My Art #My Stories

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jovialyouthmusic · 6 years ago

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Uneasy Lies the Head

A Royal Romance AU fanfic followup to Charlotte’s Choice

1 Mourning and Doubt

Queen Charlotte of Cordonia deals with the death of her Father King Constantine, and an old enemy strikes.

@ao719 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @sleepwalkingelite@boneandfur @blackcatkita @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicescommunity@darley1101 @drakewalkerrosenberg @debramcg1106 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @goirishsunshine @gardeningourmet @livingthroughchoices@likethetailofacomet @mrs-nazario @mind-reader1 @ooo-barff-ooo@silviasutton1989 @speedyoperarascalparty @zaffrenotes @missevabean@mrsdrakewalkerblog @cora-nova @missameliep @tanelle83 @endlessly-searching-for-you @jlouise88 @drakenazario @tabithacarlisle@furiousherringoperatortoad @notoriouscs @classylady1234@wickedgypsymoon @carabeth @choices-fangirl @indiana-jr @indiacater@noey718-blog @katedrakeohd @bobasheebaby @annekebbphotography @kennaxval @sirbeepsalot @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @aworldoffandoms@iplaydrake @drakesensworld @drakewalkerisreal @samcpossum

1 Mourning and Doubt

Drake had arrived at the King’s room just too late. Charlotte sat by his bedside, the machines switched off, the room silent, her head bowed, holding his cooling hand. He walked rapidly over to her and knelt by her side.

‘My Queen’ he said simply, but she tugged at him to get up, tears in her eyes.

‘Never kneel to me, my love’ she said softly ‘You’re my equal, you’ll be by my side. I’ll announce it after the funeral’ She sent for Hana and told her to remain with the King until she had finished with the Press.

She had washed her face and gone out to the Press, taking him with her to stand by her side, unannounced as her Consort. She told the nation of their King’s death and declared three days of mourning to be followed by a State funeral. She stated that Anton was guilty of treason and stripped of his title and lands, and anyone who helped him would also be accused of the same. She returned to the silent room where her Father lay lifeless, Hana sitting dutifully by his side, her own eyes red. She looked down at his body.

‘It’s funny, it felt like he was still here before. He’s gone now.’ She turned to the doctor ‘I want his body treated with respect. No more examinations, no post mortem. He’s to be laid in State at the Palace for all to see.’ The doctor protested.

‘Your Majesty, there are things we must do…’ She held up her hand to quiet him.

‘He can be prepared for viewing, nothing more. I am your Queen, and I command it’ The doctor bowed.

‘Yes your Majesty’ he answered.

She turned to Hana.

‘Hana, I appoint you my personal aide. I hope you will accept – we can discuss terms in due time.’ Hana dropped a curtsey ‘I know laying Father in state at the Palace will create security problems, but I am sure you can liaise with Bastien and Lewis to ensure my safety.’ She put her hand to her face, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. ‘I need to rest. Will it be safe to return to the Palace?’

‘Yes your Majesty’ replied Hana ‘The Royal Guard has combed it from top to bottom. I’ll send for a car to take you back’

At the Palace an armed guard stood at the gate. It had been night time when the King passed away, and now the clear light of dawn now broke over the capital and a new Monarch reigned. The staff welcomed her with both sorrow and joy and she made her way straight to her suite, Drake following a few steps behind. Lewis was the one to stand guard in the corridor, as Bastein and Hana co-ordinated security details, he from his hospital bed, she from wherever she was needed.

Once in her room, she sat heavily on the bed and turned to Drake. Her whole world had changed in just a few hours, and it all weighed heavily on her shoulders.

‘Don’t leave me Drake, stay with me’ She pleaded wearily. He smiled ruefully

‘I can’t do that right now, not until I’m declared Consort’ She tried to protest, tears starting to her eyes ‘You’re Queen now, nothing must tarnish your image. The country needs you, needs to respect you. Don’t worry, I’ll be seen leaving your room – I’ll sing and dance all the way back to mine if I have to, to make it plain I left. But I’ll come back in secret along the passages, I promise. I won’t be long’ He knelt and turned his face up to kiss her softly. ‘Soon’ he said simply, and she knew he didn’t just mean in the moment.

When he returned she was asleep where he’d left her, laying back on the bed, lower legs hanging over the edge of the high four poster bed. Gently he lifted her feet to take off her shoes and shake her awake.

‘Drake’ she said sleepily ‘You came back. I - I fell asleep’ He chuckled, touched by her trust and her vulnerability.

‘I noticed, Princess – my Queen. You can’t sleep like this, let me help you out of these clothes’ He sat her up and she shrugged out of the clothes she had put on at the lodge Anton had taken her to. It brought it all back – the fear, the sorrow, the realisation that Anton would stop at nothing to get the Crown. But Drake’s token hung round her neck, and he was there – her rock, her refuge, her lover.

‘Father, what happened to grandma? Why isn’t she here any more?’ the young Charlotte asked after the funeral of his mother. He knelt down to her, and scooped her into his arms, holding her against his chest. His cheeks were wet.

‘She’s not with us any more my sweet girl. Nobody knows for sure what happens when someone dies’ he set her down and carried on, half crouching on the marble floor of the ballroom ‘She loved you very much, and I’m sure she didn’t want to go, but she was very ill’

‘Will she come back Father, I miss her’ He sighed.

‘I’m sorry my dear, perhaps you will see her in your dreams, but she won’t come back to our waking world. I like to think that wherever she is, she’s watching over us. She’s with all her loved ones – your Gramps who you never met, with her Mummy and Daddy. She’ll still be there in your heart whenever you remember her. I’ll remember her too, and she’ll always be a part of us.’ Charlotte smiled.

‘That sounds nice Papa. Can I go and play with Drake and Olivia?’ He smiled.

‘Yes darling. I’m proud of my little girl for understanding something that a lot of grown ups find difficult. Go and play, your mother will call you when it’s time to come in.’

Charlotte slipped under the heavy covers of the bed. Drake slid in beside her for the first time, and she curled into his side and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

The three days of mourning passed in a blur of meetings and office sessions. Drake assisted when he could, even if it was only to bring her fresh coffee or make sure she ate. The funeral had been planned in advance and there were only small details to arrange. She poured her energy into drafting reform, swiftly abolishing the Chastity clause, smoothly and without incident before drawing up other plans to present to the Council after the Coronation. She planned to abolish the obligation of Dukes and Duchesses to serve on the Council, setting in motion the facility for ordinary citizens to be elected in their place – a Council of Citizens that would hold power in tandem with the nobles, eventually merging into one Council. She had Drake draft out a plan to leave a wing of Applewood for her use but turn the rest of the property over to an organisation that would set up a scheme of training for young people. Olivia planned to turn part of her own property over to the orphanage. Brad departed for England to see to his own estate, promising to return for the Funeral.

As Anton had been made landless, she put in motion a plan to hand Valtoria over to Drake as soon as he had been declared Consort and with it a place on the Council of Nobles. She prepared a communication for all the Duchies urging them to stop holding overly ostentatious balls and dinners and spend more on charitable causes. The Royal events would continue, but in a scaled down version, some events being dropped altogether, such as the annual hunt.

At night Drake came to her room unseen, and left before her staff woke her and brought her breakfast, returning in public to eat with her. When they were alone at night they made love tenderly and slowly, Charlotte taking comfort in their complete union, wondering how she had lived for so long without knowing such bliss. It balanced out her busy days and she mourned the loss of the carefee days of the social season. She understood why Constantine had thrown her into the world of diplomacy and economics and governance; if she had not had that experience she would be floundering now.

The day of the funeral came, and defiantly she walked behind the hearse with Drake, as she had some months ago behind her stepmother’s cortege. Bastien had urged her to travel in an armoured car, but she wanted to appear free of fear in front of the people. Security was tight, the Guard running ragged after working long hours policing the Palace where Constantine had laid in state, citizens and nobles queuing to pay their respects. Charlotte had promised Bastien that she would hole up in the Palace for three days afterwards to lessen the load on her loyal forces.

Thankfully the funeral passed without incident despite Anton still being at large, no trace of him to be found. The following day she welcomed a television recording crew into the Palace to film an official statement to be broadcast later that day. She recorded it in Her Fathers’ wood panelled study that was now put aside for her exclusive use

‘Citizens of Cordonia, I thank you for the heartfelt sentiments on the death of King Constantine. As you know, there has been no official Coronation, although I am legally the King’s heir. There are many reforms under way that will change the way our beautiful country is run, of which you will be informed very shortly. I would like to announce that in five days’ time there will be a formal Coronation ceremony at the cathedral, but in advance of that, I wish to announce the identity of the man who will serve as my consort.’ She paused, knowing that although she was not being broadcast live, she would need to leave a little time for people to process what she said.

‘You will be pleased to hear that I have chosen Duke Drake Walker, whose support over the years has been so valuable to my Father and myself. You will also know that his status as Duke is unique, his title having been handed to him in honour of his father’s service to the Crown, and coming with no land or property. I hereby announce that he is to be appointed Duke of Valtoria and awarded a place on the Council, in the absence of the traitor Anton Severus, who has forfeited his own title and lands.’ She paused again, to allow her words to sink in.

‘I have already informed the former Lord Severus’s staff at his properties, and offered them a place under Duke Walker if they so wish, providing that they swear their loyalty and fealty to him and to myself. They are free to find employment elsewhere if they wish, but as you know, anyone who retains loyalty to Anton Severus is by implication, guilty of treason, or of aiding and abetting a traitor to the Crown. It saddens me that any of my citizens hold me in contempt and I offer immunity to any who truly wish to give me their loyalty. Again I urge any of you with knowledge of the whereabouts of Anton Severus to step forward and give up that information or hand him over to my Royal Guard. I will be lenient with anyone who does so.’ She paused again.

‘I wish prosperity and happiness to all the citizens of Cordonia, no matter what their status. I look forward to serving my country and helping to achieve that prosperity for all. God Bless Cordonia’ Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief, and the camera crew turned off the lights and started to pack away. The director turned to her.

‘Thankyou your Majesty, we’ll look the footage over for any flaws and get back to you as soon as we can with the film ready for broadcast.’

‘There’s to be no editing of my words, nothing left out or changed around’ Charlotte asserted ‘If anything material is changed, I will bring down the full force of the law on you, is that clear?’ The director swallowed.

‘Of course your Majesty, I just meant that we have to check the quality of the film. There will be no editing, nothing will be changed, you have my word.’ Charlotte smiled warmly

‘I’m sure you will carry out my instructions, I just had to make things absolutely clear. It is vital that everyone understand my intentions. I only want the best for my country.’

Later that evening, Charlotte sat with Drake, Hana and Bastien, who had been discharged from hospital and was on light duties as he healed. She wished she could allow him time off, but the handover of power was her priority, and she was not formally crowned as yet. They waited for the broadcast. The film crew had not been allowed to leave the Palace following the recording and a member of security remained with them until the broadcast was due.

All went as planned, the film crew had not changed anything – but just as Charlotte had come to the part where she reminded her citizens that Anton was a traitor, the picture faded and static appeared on the screen. She frowned, and Drake got up to check the connection at the back of the set, only to hear Charlotte gasp as he lost sight of the screen.

‘Oh my God’ whispered Hana ‘Anton Severus – he’s hacked the broadcast, he’s about to speak’

#charlotte's choice #uneasy lies the head #the royal romance #drake walker #choices the royal romance #trr #trr drake #choices trr #trr fanfic #trr choices #trr au

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eideticreid · 7 years ago

Text

Bonding » Spencer Reid

Pairing: Reader x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1,924

Warnings: None

Summary: You’ve been working at the BAU for a week now, and the small decision to stay behind for lunch one day, gives you some alone time with Spencer Reid.

It had been a week since you became the newest member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. A week of you settling into your new job and getting to know your team mates, building and earning the trust you needed to be an efficient team.

Your first week had mostly consisted of filling out piles and piles of paperwork that seemed to endlessly appear on your desk. Your once clean and organised area now a chaotic mess of papers, folders and idle stationary.

Paperwork aside, you’d managed to become well acquainted with your team mates, becoming particularly close to Penelope Garcia. During your lunch breaks you’d find comfort perched in a chair beside the blonde in her office, watching cute and funny video’s on her many computers.

You’d also spent a decent amount of time with Derek too, mainly because his desk was literally across from yours. You enjoyed the flirtatious banter he gifted to all the women he encountered — earning scoffs from a certain genius — and you melted at the relationship he had with Penelope.

Elle and J.J were still relatively new to you, since you hadn’t interacted with them as much. The brunette would occasionally join in on conversations, but was more focused on her work than the others, whilst the blonde was always locked away in her separate office resulting in you hardly ever seeing her.

And you couldn’t forget about Spencer.

You hadn’t really gotten to know him that well over the past week, but he had thrown out some random facts at you and found himself in many of his passionate speeches more than once.

But that was more than enough for you. You could listen to Spencer Reid’s voice all day long.

However, you were now beginning your second week at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You still hadn’t been called out on a case, your body now itching for action and drama, and you wondered if you were ever going to make it out onto the field.

As you walked into the bullpen at the start of a brand new week, you noticed that the usual early bird wasn’t sat at his desk with a book in his hands. It was weird to not see and have the long haired boy greet you.

Maybe Spencer was sick today?

“Good morning, pretty girl.” Derek greeted, as he turned on his computer opposite you.

“Morning, D.” You had both adapted to the nicknames you’d given each other.

“How was your weekend? Do anything nice?”

You shook your head, “Not really. Just caught up on some shows and did some cooking. What about you?”

“I went out with Elle on Saturday night,” He looked over his shoulder at the brunette, “Hooked up with a few girls. It was a great time.”

“Yeah, until you left me for that Latina girl.” Elle looked accusingly at Derek, who chuckled.

You smiled to yourself as the two co-workers began some banterous bickering between themselves about their weekend, whilst you started up your computer for the day. You were so focused on Derek and Elle’s words you almost missed Spencer Reid coming into the bullpen.

He stopped at your desk before settling in himself, and when you looked up at his tall frame to see a coffee cup being handed to you, you couldn’t help but smile.

“This is for you.” You took the warm cup from him gratefully, “Coffee, two sugars. It’s from my favourite place a couple of blocks away.”

“Thank you, Spencer. You didn’t have to.”

“I know. I uh, I wanted to.” He smiled before settling into his desk.

You examined the logo sprawled across the cup — Mini Joe’s — a place you’d never heard of before. Strange. You brought the warm beverage to your lips, took a small sip and felt the warm liquid travel down your throat, leaving the right amount of sweetness in your mouth.

“Wow, Spence. This place sells some good coffee.” You hadn’t realised you’d just called Spencer by a nickname, allowing the name to flow mindlessly from your lips.

But the genius had noticed.

J.J was the only person who ever called him Spence, others just opting to call him Reid or his actual name. He liked it though. And because you made him feel an unfamiliar way, he blushed at the slip of the nickname.

“I’m glad you like it,” He smiled, “Did you know the earliest credible evidence of drinking coffee was in Yemen in southern Arabia, back in the middle of the fifteenth century? It was there in Arabia that coffee seeds were first roasted and brewed similar to how it’s prepared today.”

“I did not know that.” You giggled, “I thought it all started in Brazil, honestly.”

“Easy mistake,” He shrugged, “Brazil is now the leading grower of coffee, producing one-third of the world total.”

“Interesting.” You pondered, taking another sip of the delicious drink.

The morning had passed slowly, everyone wasting another day on their computers and completing paperwork. All you could think about the whole morning was how Spencer had bought you coffee.

He took time to think about you early in the morning, and your love for coffee. And even though he has an eidetic memory, you were touched that he remembered you had two sugars too.

With the morning been and gone, and every member of the team wishing for a case, it was now lunch time. A time that everyone, including yourself, embraced with huge relief.

The bullpen had now become empty with few agents dotted around finishing up loose ends. You and Spencer were two of the few agents, both politely declining to join the others for lunch in the cafe down the street.

“Didn’t fancy going to lunch with the others today?” Spencer asked.

“No, I brought lunch with me this time.”

He smiled, “Mind if I join you then?”

Your heart started to race at the simple fact Spencer wanted to join you for lunch, you were yet to spend one-on-one time with him. You politely nodded though and scrambled to move the paperwork out the way to make some room for him.

“Did you have a nice weekend?” He asked, as he wheeled his seat at the edge of your desk.

“Yeah, I did thanks. How about you?”

“My weekend was good too, thanks.”

Spencer grabbed for his apple he had packed, as both of you tried to find a conversation starter to make this situation a little less awkward. You didn’t really know much about him and he didn’t really know much about you.

However, the genius managed to find a topic much quicker than you did. “Are they your parents?”

You instinctively looked over at your picture frame containing their picture, “Yeah. That was taken a few days after their wedding.”

“You look exactly like your mother there. Just as beautiful.” It took a second for him to realise what he said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I uh, I didn’t mean for that to sound inappropriate.”

You blushed, “It’s okay, really.” Your genuine smile was enough to reassure him, “Thank you for the compliment.”

He too, was now blushing, “You’re welcome.” He paused, “So um, do you have any siblings?”

You nodded, “An older brother. His name is (Y/B/N).” You took a bite out of your salad, “Are there any other Reid geniuses?”

He chuckled, “No, I’m the only child.”

You watched as his features changed ever so slightly, his forehead crinkling in thought as he contemplated something. His focus was fixed on the apple in his hand, his hazel eyes avoiding yours, and for a moment you thought you might have said something wrong.

“Did I say something wrong?” You almost whispered, “I apologise if I did.”

Spencer instantly looked at you, “No. No, you didn’t say anything wrong.” He paused, “I was just wondering what it would’ve been like to have a sibling.”

“It’s not all its cracked up to be. The amount of times (Y/B/N) and I would fight,” You giggled, “It drove my parents insane.”

Spencer smiled weakly, “I think I would have preferred that.” There was a beat of silence, “My um, my parents split when I was ten. My mum, she uh, she has schizophrenia. That resulted in their split.”

Your heart broke at the thought of ten year old Spencer dealing with his parents break up and his mother’s horrible diagnosis. That kind of situation would be hard on any child, let alone a child with the kind of mind he has.

“Wow, Spencer, I’m so sorry.” You breathed, “How is your mum doing now?”

He smiled genuinely, “Yeah she’s okay. Getting the help she needs back home in Las Vegas. Thanks for asking.”

In Spencer’s eyes you were a gift from God. Maybe even a gift to the genius himself.

Whenever he told someone about his mother’s illness — which was hardly ever — the look of fear and sorrow always crossed their features, before they’d make an excuse to leave the conversation.

There was usually three reasons why they’d leave, either because they didn’t care; didn’t know how to talk about the subject, or because they classed his mother as some crazy woman which therefore meant he was crazy too.

But you were different. A good different.

Spencer changed the subject, “Is that you in your other picture?”

Again, you instinctively looked over at the picture frame beside your computer, “Yeah, that’s me and my best friend.”

“You look so young. How old were you there?”

“Fifteen.” You giggled, “Please don’t ask why we were pulling those faces, because I don’t know the answer to that.”

He chuckled, “I bet she’s proud of you becoming an FBI agent.”

“I’d like to believe she would be.”

Spencer frowned at your comment as he watched you stab your salad, with a sad smile on your face. You looked over at him as his hazel eyes searched your face for answers, and you knew it would be best to just explain.

“She was uh, she was killed when we were sixteen. That was actually one of the last pictures taken of us.”

Spencer processed your words, “I’m so sorry.”

“She was actually the reason I became an FBI agent.” You explained, “Still to this very day her murder hasn’t been solved. Maybe it never will. But the experience inspired me to become an agent so I can bring justice to the families who lose someone like that.”

“I know I didn’t know her, but I have a feeling she would’ve been proud of you.” He smiled.

Spencer wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was glad you were there. Obviously what you went through was traumatic and he wouldn’t wish that upon anyone, but he was glad that you ended up here at the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

“Thanks, Spencer.” You smiled and took another bite of your salad, “So, I’m curious about your education. Derek has briefly mentioned before that you have like, doctorates and bachelor degrees?”

Spencer shifted in his seat uncomfortably as he nodded, “I uh, went to Cal Tech and earned myself three doctorates in Engineering, Chemistry and Mathematics. I uh, also earned two bachelor degrees in Psychology and Sociology.”

“Wow. I think that’s so cool.”

He blushed, “Not many people find that cool.”

“Well, I’m not many people.”

He smiled widely, “No, you are not.”

As you both fell into a comfortable silence, the beautiful blonde Jennifer Jareau had rushed calmly into the bullpen with Hotch closely behind her. At the sight of folders clasped in her hands, you could only hope this meant one thing.

“(Y/L/N), Reid. Finish up with lunch.” Hotch called from across the bullpen, “We’ve got a case. Meet in the conference room in ten.”

Your eyes widened at the thought of finally getting to go out onto the field. You turned to Spencer who could sense the excitement and eagerness that bubbled inside you, and all he did was chuckle.

“Welcome to your first case, (Y/N).”

#Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid imagine #Criminal Minds #Reader x Spencer Reid #Aaron Hotchner #Derek Morgan #Elle Greenaway #Jennifer Jareau #Criminal Minds fic #Criminal Minds imagine

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hoseokisme-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Carpe Diem

Chapter 1 :

Opening my eyes was the hardest thing to do for me. I could feel rays of light upon my face telling me that it was time to wake up.

Accepting to open my eyes would means that I have to face again an unproductive day. That was everyday struggle.

I'm not good when it comes to confrontations. All I do is run off situations that I know I'm not capable of handle.

I love being in control. Not fighting for life is my way to control it. If nothing is happening, if I'm not doing anything, if I don't stand up and live, I chose it. I decided it and accepted it because I'm the commander of my life.

I'm never going back to that time where circumstances of life controlled me and influenced my incoming days. Deception was all I gain.

I made it. I was finally awake but i felt like shit. Yesterday night I ate tons of food and quenched my thirst with some or should I say too much beer. I was still feeling guilty of my life style but I chose it. Stop blaming yourself girl.

I slowly dragged myself out of the bed and made my way to the bathroom. I didn't even take more than 15min to clean myself. Combing my hair was just a waste of time. Make-up? Who puts on cosmetics when you stay most of the time at home? Funny how before i used to spend 30 minutes on my daily make-up routine. What could I even do outside in this fake ass world though? Besides buying some groceries. I needed to feed myself after all and lord knows how much I eat.

After making my coffee and lit a cigarette, I was finally sitting in my living room eager to inhale nicotine.

«Bless be this coffee that helps me staying awake and those cigarettes that slowly are killing my lungs. Amen»

I said with a hoarse voice echoing in my not so furnished apartment. I always had the habit of talking to myself. That's not a mental illness right?

I felt my phone vibrating.

ASSHOLE is calling

I took a deep breath and said, "The fuck you calling me?" I was already regretting that i picked up my phone. How stupid I was.

The man behind the phone spoke to me, "This is how you treat the only friend you have?"

"Get dismissed. Who said I need your friendship or whatsoever?" I retorted.

"Ya ! Move your big ass from that shitty place you live in. Where did you go? I -" He angrily responded to me but I didn't let him the time to even finish his sentence.

"Cut it YoonGi. I'm not making a damn move. You can kiss my ass" I threw my phone somewhere in the distance and took another cigarette to burn my frustration.

Your call ended

He looked at his phone with a sulky face,

"She's probably on her periods. I need to do something with her bad attitude." He whined to his friend Jungkook who was sitting next to him.

"Man, just give up. Every day is the same useless arguments. And let me inform you that she can't be every single day on her periods." Jungkook answered with annoyance.

The youngest took a pause and continued, "Who knows she still might be. I would be not surprised that midget has some one of a kind dysfunctional sickness. Oh wait, is she even human?"

Yoongi knitted one's brow at his disproportionate reaction. She sure isn't the kindest girl right now but Jungkook's words were too harsh.

Yoongi grinned and proudly told back, "Don't be so salty with her 'cause she rejected you boy. And Jungkook, call me once again 'man' and I will punch you right in your pretty face of yours that makes girls drooling over you. You both are the same. Can't fucking put some respect on my name. Damn I'm older than you ! I'm your Hyung after all."

Jungkook didn't even care and left his sit "Get lost!"

That kid really needed some education.

"I don't understand why I'm still answering his calls. I should block his number." I told myself while reaching for my phone that i threw somewhere in the mess that is my desk.

I feel so pissed off right now. The few things that could possibly enlighten my day are scrolling endlessly on tumblr while eating some snacks and lay on my bed. Pissed off or not, i would have done that all day long until I fall asleep though.

"Who is that pretty boy? Oh sweet lord he got those moves though. I said with mesmerized eyes, I'm sure his mom delivered him while dancing!" Tumblr is really an eye candy place for a girl like me. I read the tag at the end of the post, "J-Hope" What an interesting name. Seemingly he's a choreographer.

I look at my belly and sigh deeply. If only i had fifteen kilos less i could dance again. But i guess food is the only thing that can cheer me up. When I'm sad? I eat. When I'm happy? I eat. When I'm angry at the whole wide world ? You guess it, i eat.

It is said that in order to live we must eat but for me it's more like i live to eat. I have one life to eat everything i want then when I'll rest down in my grave, I'll be reduce to caloric food for worms.

I was a party animal before i turn my back on what people consider as life. I was all over the place dancing around. Wherever I heard a beat or something catchy here I was moving my ass. Moreover when all eyes set on me I felt alive, noticed and sometimes desired. Since I'm a human wreck I don't think I would still give the same effect on people. Dance was dead when I put underground my old me.

"Meow"

"You're also hungry my baby. Aww mommy is gonna give you some meat. It's time to eat right? It's 9pm you must be starving"

As I'm getting up from bed to feed my cat, i heard a loud knock on my door. I don't get any visit since a year and i want it to stay the same way. Furthermore i didn't give my address to a single person when i moved out. Since i don't have a peephole i kind of freaked out of who could possibly come this late. I took the first thing that I could grab in the kitchen and went to open the door.

"Good eve- What the heck MinRae put that knife down. For god sake are you out of your mind? »

He found me. How did he manage to? I turn my back on him and walk to the kitchen to put back the knife and make some coffee.

He didn't change for a bit, still that same pale face and outstanding colorful hair. This time he dyed it green.

"Here you are. Drink quickly this up and never come back again" I say sternly, and put a cup of coffee on the table of the living room.

"I'm not here to create a big fuss MinRae. I'm tired of all this shit. It's been a year that you hiding yourself from us. You didn't even care to tell us where you were moving out nor explain us why. I called you every day ! The only answer that I have when the sloth that you are had the courage to pick up the phone is ' fuck you'. What the hell is wrong with you? You're such a selfish girl"

I can feel all his anger while YoonGi spit out all these words at me. He didn't even blink his sharp eyes once or stopped to take back his breath.

"Are you done?" I say with a big grin as if what he just told me hasn't even moved me a bit.

"Look at you. You don't even look like yourself. Are you training to become the fattest midget in the world? Is this why you fled from us?"

He comes at me and pulls my arm to force me to face him. Cocky as I am, I look straight in his eyes. I don't want him to feel like he impresses me.

"What's up with this belly? Are you pregnant?" He sarcastically says while gazing at my stomach.

Why his words hurt me so badly? I can sense sadness and anger fill up my throat. I'm about to explode. But I need to contain myself.

Now he's going near what used to be my piano.

"I can't believe you didn't even touch your piano for it seems months. Look at all that dust. Is it a garbage dump? How can you leave food and grime on one of the thing you used to cherish the most in this world?"

He's coming back at me and I can't face him anymore. He was right and I'm so mad that he is. I feel shattered. I can't even think straight. I don't know what to do or explain. My mind is blank. I don't know where to start. No words are coming. However I can feel tears running down my cheeks.

I hate showing myself vulnerable or weak. He doesn't deserve to witness that his words still have an impact on me. Friendship was over when I told myself that I don't deserve it anymore.

He pulls me in a embrace. I try to push him back but it was worthless.

"I'm sorry Minie. But I knew that I had to be rough on you to let your guard down." He pats my head. "I miss you and the others also do. Stop fighting with the people that cares about you."

Slowly a lot of old feelings are filling me up. Minie, that's what my friends used to call me. I can't deny that I missed the presence of YoonGi and being called by my nickname.

#jhope #hoseok #bts #reader x bts #hoseok x reader #female oc #rm #namjoon #seokjin #bangtan #suga #yoongi icons #jimin #jungkook #v #taehyung #angst #smut #fanfic

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anxietydiaries · 4 years ago

Text

ugh

If only people knew where i came from. They would listen, awaken, broken and beaten.

You'd think that I’d be sitting here thinking about everything, but my head is filled with holes, life with no meaning.

All that people have ever said to me, but their words don't even matter, you can only learn so much from an idiot, when you think that you know the world as much as the world did.

When you sit there thinking about all of the things that you believe, knowing that life is futile, alone and at ease.

And thinking about whether you're right or wrong, thinking that you have it all. for me, it's more about morality, it's not perfect, but it works, because its raw..

Morality is a non-arguable stance, you can't make’em shift, you can't make em dance. you can't change their mind unless they themselves choose to do so, and experience something that makes the colors change.

Your mind is only something that you choose to change, no one else can do that unless faced with the brave, the active decision to have a discussion is there in one single place. Yet you all argue over the same tired talking points. racism, sexisim, gender, and choice.

when you wake up in the morning, is the first thing you do is think about what you might argue today? Do you think about who you are going to piss off, or hurt, harass, embarrass, or shame?

Do you even consider for one second how your actions can affect someone?

I really doubt it, because you only think of yourself and what you want, and then some.

What's really funny to me is that there are people who exist that try to do the right thing, saying wise things, yet have all the wrong knowledge. What an anomaly, special, but pointless.

Can you really live with yourself knowing that you believed in lies, and tried to use the past to justify your retarded guise? the past is a poor argument. yet People sit there and say, the past is in the past, and we need to focus on change. the world isn't so black and white and blue and gray.

I know when people say that, they worry more of leaving things behind, but that justifies nothing, than learning from lies, it's the past and they should use that for their future. It’s super annoying. but it's important, its for our overture.

With today's social climate, i hate that people use the past to attack others, yet they never grasp, using insults to tear someone down mentally and emotionally, how do you live, knowing that damage is overkill?

while sitting on their computer and phones complaining about the word “retard” and crying on about how its a slur when the term is allocated to the damage of technology.

You’d really think that people can be more intelligent, but really they're stupid as fuck. It leaves me worried with everything that's going on, and yet people think that the world sucks.

Lack of empathy is a mental illness on earth, yet no one notices at all. We live in a world where people treasure their material possessions to the point of tearing others down. their looks and numbers and “wins” when they're really losses. funny how that that shit never matters.

Making me sick to my stomach, celebrating someone's death like that, what is wrong with people? well you can fuck off, because the same goes to you, now die with the masses.

You know it doesn't matter who you support, at the end of the day the decision will be made and yet you sit here thinking you’re on the throne, when you're really sitting on a pile of graves.

Fuck these people and everything they're about, why do we have to live with so much misinformation and doubt. YOU HAVE BEEN LIED TO, DON'T YOU SEE THAT? i'm a very moral person, so it doesn't add up.

You think you're invincible, yet get your ass beat, if you have anything to say, you get whipped on the streets. Life ain't so precious when it's that easy, to find death, outside in the beautiful world.

Hiding behind your phones and keyboards, you think you're really brave, when really you're a weakling, smashing windows and vets graves. You're just a fly, easy to kill, but think you move fast when you're caught in your lies, but once your found, people smash you down, and you delete your tweet like you never made a sound.

HELLO!? the wayback machine is a thing! once it's on the internet, its there for eternity, you cant hide your shit personality, so hold your breath, with your senseless atrocity.

So i suggest one thing, use that brain of yours, the thing in your head! You're not even real, you're dead. because remember, many people have died. but that doesnt matter, because you're selfish inside.

You all cry on about abortion yet you sit there sad and disappointed, your life has no value, as much as the chain around your neck, you're worthless, and pathetic at best. Your useless, you think fucking for fun is worth it, and then once you get pregnant you throw it away like you never even heard it, and then you turn gay.

Stop opening your legs and get a brain you pathetic insect, my life started off on an off beat, and here i am, im finally breathing. Yeah my chest is tight, and i panic every night, but i'm alive and that's all that matters, because my life really does matter.

At 17, i could have killed myself, i could have died but i choose to think about it, and i'm really glad that i did, because it would have been a waste of my time and my energy to die without clearing my sins.

You think you had it worse? yeah sure thing, everyone's different, but you'll never know somebody's pain, until you learn to SHUT THE FUCK UP AND START LISTENING! its bears repeating, our whole world is glistening.

You're an ant, you're a flea, you're a parasite, living off government money, while you sit and flex on his cumming, you can't take it back and cry in your clean sheets.

Waiting for love, and you still cry, but love never comes, yet you wonder why, you're really alone, and you are the problem. Thinking you're great, when you're really nothing.

You're fat and alone and youre sad, you sit in the dark staring at your hand, wondering why you're alive. “KILL YOURSELF!! DO IT!!! I DARE YOU!!!” all of you peons, so pathetic, YOU'RE SCARED TOO!!! Sitting there fighting over nothing, but fame, and numbers and money.

When will you wake up and realize that world doesn't revolve around you? oh that's right, you're to busy only voting blue.

the KKK, the liars and cheaters, the only people that you won't even breed with. Don't have kids, don't ever spawn, because its a waste of your time. Go ahead and sit open and bare, you're a wasteland of lies that you always wear. Ears glued shut, mouth wide open, swallowing every bit of jizz he pours in your mouth.

Do you feel like a queen, a king, or a princess? Oh yeah thats right, that doesn't exist.

So say my name, you don't know it, because you're a prostitute living off men. They don't actually care about you, they care for your body, you're a walking talking hypocrite.

How you say? Now let me be clear, you're a pathetic whore living off jeers. It's embarrassing, and pathetic, i hope this make you cry, mostly out of the realization that you have nothing to supply.

The hearts of men are being used, and that's manipulation my guy. You're the worst kind of women if you don't really care, so sit there and take it all in. Because what i'm saying should make it all clear.

My body my choice but you choose to open your legs.

My body my choice but you choose to say yes.

My body my choice but you choose no protection, i hope you get a huge staph infection.

My body my choice, you chose cum inside, and here you are a week later, on your knees, vomit, crying.

WHAT HAVE I DONE? you cry to yourself, you whored yourself out for just ANYONE.

OH dear little ant, sit back and hear what i say. My body my choice is a pathetic disgrace.

Hello, im adopted, nice to meet you! im free, my mother did cocaine, yet that's why i am here. If it went any further i could have died, and that'd be it, the end, good night.

But i'm happy to be here, i cherish every moment, knowing that my mother loved me enough to put me up for adoption.

I sit before you, grinning with teeth, knowing that i have a mother and father who love me endlessly.

I can sing, i can dance, i can read really well, but what can you do? But sit there with your fancy nails.

I've heard everything, the same tired arguments. Its too hard, i have no meny, i CAN'T TAKE RESPONSIBILITY.

What's it like to learn nothing and be mentally ill? knowing that i am yet one child who sits here eternally bare. bearing my own, taking it in stride, and life bests me from the inside, i keep fighting and breathing and winning, yet here you are, on your knees still whimpering.

oh little ant, you're so sad, i'm sorry that you lost your dad. lets make things better, now give it a think...

you're more responsible for yourself than the universe might think.

But you don't want that, you sit and you pray, wishing and hoping your baby is dead.

How sad, how lucid, how empty you might be, to be a baby killer, sitting on her knees.

you know i had a thought, so please hear me out. this wouldn't have happened if you never got out. if you stayed in your mom and lived your whole live, that abortion would have been perfect for snuffing you out, from the inside.

we are human beings, parasites of the land, so take it upon yourself to realize this. MY life could have perished, yet here i sit typing this. What are the words that you think you speak, nothing but blahs, and sighs, and eeps.

“WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO? CRY ABOUT IT?” shut the fuck up bitch, and lie about it.

you got so much dick in your mouth you can barely speak. thank you cum for brains for letting me speak.

good night.

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